Letter to a Recovery friend

I read a sermon in the NyTimes today, one of those full-page, warning:weird font, warning: Korean writer possibly Moonie, "Why do the heathen rage?" style, paid features you may remember from your small town paper.

I've been feeling very powerless lately, losing to this rebellion of emotions --- and holy crap that diabolical fiend/nemisis Dr. Hashimoto, who is always pulling my leg--- so I suppose I needed to slake some spritual thirst , the way I absorbed every word.

It was a helpful article because about a month ago I read the third step of AA and suddenly it made no sense to me. A year ago, yes. Eight years ago, it made sense. But suddenly not. I made no sense, and when I read the chapter on the third step in the 12X12, the advice seemed to be to just move along through the 12 and come back and you'll understand.

I came away with news, of a sort. News to myself. And that is that I once had a "higher power", I could turn my will and my life over to, nearly, and this was my older brother, whom I idolized. (Idolized, as in Idol, as in The Realm where our God is a Jealous God.) God-like but false, but never mind that. I had in my childhood a capacity to subdue my own thoughts and feelings to another.

I wanted to be near him all the time so I could learn. So I could see how he reacted to people, places, and situations.

It was easy to mimic his "cool" but I also had to try and mimic his good grades, his better manners and friendlier ways, his willingness to work. And do you know, I did have this capacity to surrender, in that sense, long ago. My grades were better than they would have been, for instance, if I didn't care what he thought of me.

I hadn't really thought of that , in relation to what it's like to have a higher power you surrender your will to.

Then this funny thought: if only God were as cool as my brother. (Did you sense that coming?)
____
Last night I had to get out of myself and I started to imagine what was going on in the world , anywhere in this world of 4 billion , at that very moment. I meditated by picturing all types of situations that individuals must be going through. I went back and forth between the hellish and , say, picturing a homecoming, a child delighted to see his/her father and running to jump in his arms. I pictured a murder, from the point of view of the terrified victim, and the point of view of someone who'd just realized they'd lost their soul by doing such a thing.

I re-imagined this , where the murderer did not murder but showed mercy.

Then I thought of all the prayers going up, all the time, and I thought how people worry themselves sick and how usually things turn out well!! And if not, so often in retrospect "for the best". The bump in the night is almost always nothing. All we hear are the bad things, news is when things go wrong and ...here is my point, ...the vast majority of the time, everything turns out to be fine, so can that be because of all these prayers going up? Maybe civilization really is dependent upon grateful prayer and faith.

I put myself to sleep this way finally thinking of a little girl dutifully saying her prayers, after some joyous day, in front of her smiling and understanding elders, before jumping in bed, and being teased a little perhaps, as we are toward children; and her falling asleep smiling in her comfortable bed (a pallete on the floor with blankets would be like royalty to some). Happy 7 and 8 year old children are blessed.

I fell asleep feeling blessed. (then as always I awoke with a start this morning , making emergency prayers, establishing that contact immediatly, like I'm in mortal danger for some reason).