Fearlessness Required

"Notice that the word "fear" is bracketed alongside the difficulties (in our 4th Step inventory). . . . This short word somehow touches about every aspect of our lives. It was an evil corroding thread; the fabric of our existence was shot through it. It set in motion trains of circumstances which brought us misfortune we felt we didn't deserve. But did not we, ourselves, set the ball rolling? Sometimes we think fear ought to be classified with stealing. It seems to cause more trouble."

"We reviewed our fears thoroughly. We put them down on paper, even though we had no resentment in connection with them. We asked ourselves why we had them. Wasn't it because self-reliance failed us? Self-reliance was good so far as it went, but it didn't go far enough. Some of us once had great self-confidence but it didn't fully solve the fear problem, or any other. When it made us cocky, it was worse."

 "Perhaps there is a better way -- we think so. For we are now on a different basis; the basis of relying upon God. We trust infinite God rather than our finite selves." 

". . . The verdict of the ages is that faith means courage. All men of faith have courage." 

Alcoholics Anonymous, pages 67-68 (Emphasis added.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 

There is actually nothing "demanded" or "required" in A.A. (or its sister organizations), even the 12 Steps themselves are only "suggested" as a program of action that will relieve the sufferer of his or her addiction to alcohol, etc. However, we are "begged" by those who came before us to be "fearless and thorough from the very start." We are "begged" (I believe) because the author of the 'Big Book' knew that all fears are a manifestation of self, of the ego, of the seemingly ceaseless chatter in our mind. Indeed, he observes that on our old basis of living fear permeated the very "fabric of our existence."

He begged us to be fearless, I believe, because he knew that an unexpectedly new and "different basis" other than that of relying on the random, fearful thoughts of the ego/self, a new "basis of relying upon God," is essential to recovery. We are, therefore, not "asked" but "begged" to be fearless, for "fearlessness" is (as Mahatma Gandhi once observed) "the first prerequisite of spirituality." For those of us (i.e., all of us) whose very lives are dependent on an awakening of the Spirit within, we cannot allow egoically-based, self-centered fears - all of them imaginary - to cloud out and obscure the perspective of our new found inner reality.

It is often said that fear (and fear's inverse clone, desire) is generated by our thinking that we will fail to get something we think we need, or we think that we might lose something which we already have and believe that we need to hold on to. Yet, when faced fearlessly, it is abundantly clear that such thinking is fanciful: nothing nor anyone is permanently ours, nor will they soothe our existential fears or desires; the spiritual teachings of religious and wisdom traditions around the world, as well as the spiritual experiences witnessed in A.A. and its sister organizations, make this clear. After all, as an old-timer pointed out to me years ago when I first cleaned up, "You never see an armored car in a funeral procession." Nor, I would add, do you ever see the hearse pulling a U-Haul. Fear is, thus, merely an egoic and self-centered "need announced,"as Neale Donald Walsch (author of "What God Wants") observes in the video attached below.

"(P)ride, leading to self-justification, and always spurred by conscious or unconscious fears," Bill W. writes, "is the basic breeder of most human difficulties. . . . Pride lures us into making demands upon ourselves or upon others which cannot be met without perverting or misusing our God-given instincts. When the satisfaction of our instincts for sex, security, and society becomes the sole object of our lives, then pride steps in to justify our excesses."

"All these failings," he notes, "generate fear, a soul sickness in its own right. Then fear, in turn, generates more character defects. Unreasonable fear that our instincts will not be satisfied drives us to covet the possessions of others, to lust for sex and power, to become angry when our instinctive demands are threatened, to be envious when the ambitions of others seem to be realized while ours are not. We eat, drink, and grab for more of everything that we need, fearing we shall never have enough. And with general alarm at the prospect of work, we stay lazy. We loaf and procrastinate, or at best work grudgingly and under half steam. These fears," he points out, "are the termites that devour the foundations of whatever sort of life we try to build."

"So," Bill concludes, "when A.A. suggests a fearless moral inventory, it must seem to every newcomer that more is being asked of him than he can do. Both his pride and his fear beat him back every time he tries to look within himself. Pride says, "You need not pass this way," and Fear says, "You dare not look!" But the testimony of A.A.'s who have really tried a moral inventory is that pride and fear of this sort turn out to be bogeymen, nothing else."

(Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pages 48-49.)

As Gandhi points out: "Fearlessness is (thus, indeed) the first prerequisite of spirituality . . . (and) cowards can never be moral." Therefore, do not be cowed by the thoughts of the ego, a false self which is constructed and driven wholly by our misguided fears and our outsized, unfulfillable desires.

Overcoming Our Fears and Desires

"Since most of us are born with an abundance of natural desires, it isn't strange that we often let these far exceed their intended purposes. When they drive us blindly, or we willfully demand that they supply us with more satisfactions or pleasures than are possible or due us, that is the point at which we depart from the degree of perfection that God wishes for us here on earth. That is the measure of our character defects, or, if you wish, of our sins."

-- The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 65 --

Fear, we read at Step Seven in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, is the "chief activator" of our defects of character. But what, we should ask, is the root of this self-centered fear? In Step Six, above, Bill W. suggests that the root cause of fear is desire - in this instance, otherwise natural desires that far exceed their natural bounds. Such overblown desires, he notes, are "the measure" of our character defects. That is, our blind desires create the mental room for our character defects to manifest and operate.

This is unsurprising, for if we look at the resentments list in our Step Four inventory we will see again and again that the action of others had impinged on our desires - our desires for security, for sex relationships, for personal relationships etc. These are (as Bill notes) natural desires; however, to the extent that we demand more security, more personal relationships, and more sex "than is possible or due to us," we create a fear that we will never have enough - enough security, enough money, enough friends, enough sex etc., etc., etc.

And just to the extent that these overblown desires manifest in fear, will we act act self-centeredly in response to them, trying vainly to satisfy and fulfill desires that are in all reality unquenchable. Chasing these desires we are, thus, stuck in a rut of our own making. "Living upon a basis of unsatisfied demands," we read, "we are in a state of continual disturbance and frustration. Therefore no peace was to be had unless we could find a means of reducing those demands." (Twelve and Twelve, page 76.)

How then do we go about reducing these demands? The answer it seems is, not surprisingly, right in the Steps. If we continue to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, we will experience a freedom from these desires gone wild.

Not convinced? Consider for a moment the propositions and promises we read concerning Step Three in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous (at pp. 62-63):

"(W)e decided that hereafter in this drama of life, God was going to be our Director. He is the Principal, we are His agents. He is the Father, and we are His children. Most good ideas are simple, and this concept was the keystone of the new and triumphant arch through which we passed to freedom."

"When we sincerely took this position, all sorts of remarkable things followed. We had a new Employer. Being all powerful, He provided what we needed, if we kept close to Him and performed His work well. Established on such a footing we became less and less interested in ourselves, our little plans and designs. More and more we became interested in seeing what we could contribute to life. As we felt new power flow in, as we enjoyed peace of mind, as we discovered we could face life successfully, as we became conscious of His presence, we began to lose our fear of today, tomorrow, and the hereafter. We were reborn." (Emphasis added.)

To the degree that we seek and perform God's will for us, rather than relying on our own narrow selves, life itself will provide what we need, but not necessarily what we want. Our choice then, is whether we rely on self-will or God's will. If we rely on God's will, not only will we find that we have what we "need," we are also promised that we will "lose our fear of today, tomorrow and the hereafter."

Thus, conscious faith in the efficacy of "a Power greater than ourselves" to provide what we need is the solution that removes the desires that underlie our fears. Thus in relying on the God of our understanding rather than our self-centered thinking, we are released from the cycle of fear and desire that activates our character defects. We are then, in effect, "reborn."

Humility, Suffering and Peace of Mind

"(W)e are building an arch through which we can walk a free man at last. Is our work solid so far? Are the stones properly in place? Have we skimped on the cement put into the foundation? Have we tried to make mortar without sand?"

"If we can answer to our satisfaction, we then look at Step Six. We have emphasized willingness as being indispensable. Are we now ready to let God remove from us all the things which we have admitted are objectionable? Can He now take them all - every one? If we still cling to something we will not let go, we ask God to help us to be willing."

"When ready, we say something like this: "My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad. I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to you and my fellow. Grant me strength, as I go out from here, to do your bidding. Amen." We have now completed Step Seven."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, pages 75-76.]

In a mere three paragraphs, the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous thus takes the reader through Steps Six and Seven. In part the brevity of discussion on these steps may reflect the inexperience that the original nucleus of A.A. had in working these two steps on a protracted basis. In part the brevity may be due to the disability that the individual who has not completed Step Nine is still under. Until one goes through the amends process in Step Nine the resentments, regrets and remorse that fill the mind of the newly sober alcoholic addict until amends are made tend to obscure all else.

Conversely, in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions Steps Six and Seven are two of the most in-depth and nuanced essays that Bill W. wrote. In them, Bill squarely looks at the instincts, desires and fears which feed the ego-self and thus forestalls one's ability to effect a conscious contact with God.

"Since most of us are born with an abundance of natural desires," Bill observes (at page 65), "it isn't strange that we often let these far exceed their intended purpose. When they drive us blindly, or we wilfully demand that they supply us with more satisfactions or pleasures than are possible or due to us, that is the point at which we depart from the degree of perfection that God wishes for us here on earth. That is the measure of our character defects, or, if you wish, of our sins."

The question thus becomes: Are we ready to have God remove our blind desires and obsessive ambitions, be they for sex, security, social prestige or what have you? Just to the extent that we continue to feel we must "wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world by managing well" ('Big Book,' pg. 61), it is clear that we do not, with the result that we inevitably continue to suffer from these instincts run wild.

Indeed in the Step Seven essay Bill acknowledges that the ego-shredding process of freeing the mind from overblown fears and desires can generate an astounding level of suffering as we wean ourselves from the way that we were taught to deal with the world.  "For us," he observes, "this process of gaining a new perspective is unbelievably painful."

It need not be that way however. "(W)hen we have taken a square look at some of these defects, have discussed them with another, and have become willing to have them removed," he notes, "our thinking about humility commences to have a wider meaning. By this time in all probability we have gained some measure of release from our more devastating handicaps. We enjoy moments in which there is something like real peace of mind. . . (T)his newfound peace is a priceless gift. Something new indeed has been added. Where humility had formerly stood for a forced feeding on humble pie, it now begins to mean the nourishing ingredient which can give us serenity."

"We saw we needn't always be bludgeoned and beaten into humility," Bill points out. "It could come quite as much from our voluntary reaching for it as it could from unremitting suffering."

"A great turning point," he observes, "came when we sought for humility as something we really wanted, rather than as something we must have. It marked the time when we could commence to see the full implications of Step Seven: "Humbly asked him to remove our shortcomings.""

Expectations, Anger and Resentments

Anger and fear - in fact all my character defects - seem to be inversely proportional to the expectations I have for myself, for others, and for life in general. In this, I do not think I am alone.

My egoic thinking has constant expectations about how circumstances should and will unfold, despite a lifetime of experience to the contrary; and my self-centered, egoic thoughts about what I am convinced is happening, or is about to happen, give rise to the emotional upheavals characteristic of my defects of character. Thus it is the thoughts of the ego that lead to the feelings of restlessness, irritability and discontent that characterize the alcoholic addict in the throes of his or her disease.

It is precisely to the extent that I continue to identify with my ego, or smaller "self," and thereby continue to harbour such expectations, that I suffer. And if such thinking persists over time, fears grow into phobias, desires grow into entitlements, and anger turns into seething resentments. If I am to be free, I must be free of this selfish, self-centered egoic thinking that is the root of all my problems.

But how is such a shift in the focus of my thinking to come about? First, by truly admitting that life is unmanagable by any individual. Second, by truly turning my will and life over to the care of God, and leaving it there. And, third, by accepting that life is unfolding exactly the way in which it is. For, as the emperor-philosopher Marcus Aurelius observed: "To argue with what is is insanity; and yet, the thoughtless can seldom refrain from doing so."

It is precisely at this point that the well-known passage on "acceptance" is invaluable.

"(A)cceptance," we read, "is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation - some fact of my life - unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God's world by mistake. Until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober; unless I accept life completely on life's terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in me and in my attitudes."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th ed., p. 417.]

Acceptance of life on life's terms is thus directly proportional to my serenity and peace of mind, just as my expectations are inversely proportional to my egoic, self-centered malaise. Therefore, the old question arises: "Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy?" What will I strive for acceptance, or the fulfillment of my expectations?

The answer should be clear to anyone who has long suffered the unchecked turmoil of his or her character defects. Acceptance, brings the freedom, hope and love which is the grace of God; expectations breed the anger and despair which is "the bondage of self."

Power, Coercion and Acceptance

In yet another paradox, the first half of Step One - the admittance that we are alcoholic - is perhaps the easiest one to take, yet admitting (and acting like one has admitted) that our lives "have become unmanageable" - the second half of Step One - is perhaps the most difficult of all. After all, from our earliest years on, we have been taught by our society and culture that life needs to be managed, and managed well - or else!

The great analogy of the alcoholic as "the actor" who insists on running all of the show, including, lights, scenery, ballet etc., is startlingly apt when we consider it deeply and see that it addresses the second half of Step One explicitly and directly.

"Most people try to live by self-propulsion," we read on page 60 of the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. "Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show, is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of the players in his own way. If only his arrangements would stay put, if only people would do as he wished, the show would be great. Everybody, including himself, would be pleased. Life would be wonderful. In trying to make these arrangements our actor may sometimes be quite virtuous. He may be kind, considerate, patient, generous, even modest and self-sacrificing. On the other hand, be may be mean, egotistical, selfish and dishonest. But as with most humans, he is more likely to have varied traits.

"What," we are asked, "Usually happens? The show doesn't come off very well. He begins to think that life doesn't treat him will. He decides to exert himself more. He becomes on the next occasion, still more demanding or gracious, as the case may be. Still the play does not suit hum. Admitting he may be somewhat at fault, he is sure that other people are more to blame. He becomes angry, indignant, self-pitying. What is his basic trouble? Is he not a self-seeker even when trying to be kind. Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this life if he only manages well? Is it not evident to all the rest of the players that these are the things he wants? And do not his actions make each of them wish to retaliate, snatching all that they can get out of the show? Is he not, even in his best moments, a producer of confusion rather than harmony?

"Our actor is self-centered - ego-centric, as people like to call it today." (Emphasis added.)

Bluntly, or perhaps very, very, subtly, almost everyone of us - alcoholic addict and non-alcoholic addict alike -  try in our own ways to manipulate and shape life in order to satisfy our instinctive drives, staunch our fears, and/or quench our fundamentally unquenchable desires. We in A.A. (or any of its many sister organizations) are very fortunate, indeed, in that we learn that life is inherently unmanageable, it is already organized under a far Higher Power that we often cannot or do not see, and that our task is to accept and adapt ourselves to life, rather than trying to bend it to our own narrow self-interests.

That our futile grabs for power to control the fundamentally unmanageable is all-pervasive, and ultimately futile and frustrating is illustrated in the following passages written by the late, great Sufi teacher, Idries Shah:

"Almost all human organizations," Shah notes, "are power organizations."

"Since the receipt and and exercising of power is imagined to be connected with forceful behaviour," he observes, "people cannot any longer identify a power organization. Consequently they do not understand what they are doing and what is happening to them."

"As an example," he points out, "force and influence are contained in the 'emotional blackmail' situation to exactly the same extent as in one where anger or fothrightness are expressed."

"When people in authority have the reputation for being kind and soft-hearted, others assume (quite wrongly) that the pressure exerted by such people is not pressure at all. If someone says: 'You must do this because I would be disappointed if you did not,' he is saying exactly the same as 'Do this because I demand that you do it.'"

"To say that this fact has been observed already is of no importance whatever, because something which has been said or observed and not acted upon is as good as non-existent as a lesson."

"People try to exercise power upon those 'below' them," he notes. "But people upon whom power is supposed to being exercised are, in fact, by frustrating the effect of that power, themselves exercising power."

"Power situations can only exist," Shah observes, "where there is a contract arrived at violently or otherwise, in which people will do things or else things can be made uncomfortable for them. 'Do this or I will make you uncomfortable' is the formula for both types of power: the power exerted by people above on those below, and the power exerted from the people below upon those above."

"Where there is no such contract," he notes, "where one party can do without the other, NO POWER SITUATION CAN EXIST. Neither can it be deemed to exist. But, faced with a situation in which there is no power ingredient, people CONTINUE TO BEHAVE AS IF THEY CAN COERCE OR BE COERCED."

"In doing this," Shah points out, (people) give themselves away. To any observer who is aware of the power phenomenon, they clearly show that they belong to the power structure and want to operate it. They generally become furiously angry when this is pointed out to them.

[Idries Shah,"Knowing How to Know," pp. 79-80.]

At Step Three, we make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand Him. Yet, how often when we are in a situation where there is no effective power that we can personally exert ("a situation in which there is no power ingredient," to use Shah's terminology) do we act as if there is some personal power we can exert to change things? How many of us lean on the horn to let out our frustrations when stuck in slow traffic? How many seethe inwardly or act rudely when forced to wait at the checkout counter as a clerk checks the price of some item or another? How many of us are judgmental and inwardly self-righteous when they see people doing things that they assure themselves they would never do? Almost all of us, I am sure.

Having nominally accepted our personal powerlessness to manage life, and having done (we assure ourselves) our best to turn our will and our lives over to the care of a Power greater than ourselves, we continue to forget our personal inability to manage life and, in accordance with Khan's analysis, we continue to behave as is we can coerce others to bend to our will, or we ourselves continue to be coerced to bend to the will of others.

Accepting the inherent unmanageability of life, and turning our will and our lives over to the care of the God of our understanding - and leaving it there - are ideals that take both great insight and years of practice to even approach.

Fear, Desire, and Instincts Run Wild

"Creation gave us instincts for a purpose. Without them we wouldn't be complete human beings. If men and women didn't exert themselves to be secure in their persons, made no effort to harvest food or construct shelter, there would be no survival. If they didn't reproduce, the earth wouldn't be populated. If there were no social instinct, if men cared nothing for the society of one another, there would be no society. So these desires - for the sex relation, for material and emotional security, and for companionship - are perfectly necessary and right, and surely God-given."

"Yet these instincts, so necessary for our existence, often far exceed their proper functions. Powerfully, blindly, many times subtly, they drive us, dominate us, and insist upon ruling our lives. Our desires for sex, for material and emotional security, and for an important place in society often tyrannize us. When thus out of joint, man's natural desires cause him great trouble, practically all the trouble there is."

-- The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 42 --

 In taking our 4th Step inventory, Bill W. points out that "(w)e want to find out exactly how, when, and where our natural desires have warped us. We wish to look squarely at the unhappiness this has caused others and ourselves. . . . Without a willing and persistent effort to do this," he warns, "there can be little sobriety or contentment for us." (The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p. 43)

It is necessary for us to get to the root of our discontentment, if we wish to remain clean and sober. After all, we alcoholic addicts drank primarily for the effect that it had upon us. The discontents which we harbored and drank to overcome, we learn, are rooted in the overblown, unquenchable desires of instincts gone awry. Thus, by objectively examining (and sharing) our resentments, fears and sex conduct, we become able to find not only how our actions have affected and affect others, but how and why we too were so affected.

In elaborating upon how and why our overblown instinctual desires fuelled our drinking, Bill asserts that "(a)lcoholics, especially, should be able see that instinct run wild in themselves is the underlying cause of their destructive drinking,"

"We have," he observes, "drunk to drown feelings of fear, frustration, and depression We have drunk to escape the guilt of passions, and then have drunk again to make more passions possible. We have drunk for vainglory - that we might the more enjoy foolish dreams of pomp and power."

"This perverse soul-sickness is not pleasant to look upon," he warns. "Instincts on rampage balk at investigation. The minute we make a serious attempt to probe them, we are liable to suffer severe reactions." (The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pp. 44-45.) But, if we are to free ourselves from addiction, investigate them we must. Hence, the importance of sharing them with not just ourselves, and the God or our own understanding, but with another human being, preferably one who has taken the lonely road of self-examination him or herself.

"The unexamined life is not worth living," Socrates observed. To that we may add, for the alcoholic addict, an unexamined and unreconciled life cannot be lived soberly. Why? Simply because without a working knowledge of how our warped instinctive desires have driven us blindly, and the ability to make amends for how we have hurt others, we will find no relief from ourselves. And, sooner or later, we will need to seek relief - in whatever form it takes.

"Each of us would like to live at peace with himself and his fellows," Bill notes. "We would like to be assured that the grace of God can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. We have seen that character defects based upon shortsighted or unworthy desires are the obstacles that block our path towards these objectives."

"The chief activator of our defects has been self-centered fear," he points out, "primarily fear that we would lose something we already possessed or would fail to get something we demanded. Living upon a basis of unsatisfied demands, we were in a state of continual disturbance and frustration. Therefore, no peace was to be had unless we could find a means of reducing these demands."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p. 76.]

 Steps Four through Step Nine are the initial means we take to reduce our instinctive desires to the level where we can attain and maintain our sobriety and continue on the spiritual path. Steps Ten through Twelve is where we work to continue reducing our overblown desires - and the egoic self-consciousness that fuels them - at depth.

The Addiction to 'Self'

"(O)ur troubles, we think, are basically of our own making. They arise out of ourselves, and the alcoholic is an extreme example of self-will run riot, though he usually doesn't think so. Above everything, we alcoholics must be free of this selfishness. We must, or it kills us! God makes this possible."

-- Alcoholics Anonymous, page 62 --

The "nature of our wrongs," our "defects of character," and our "shortcomings," as set out in Steps Five through Step Seven are, in essence, the same thing - they are all manifestations of the self-consciousness, or ego-identification, that seemingly separates us from everyone and everything in this world. This purely psychological "self" is the underlying root of all addiction, and its desires and the fears it creates must be overcome in a daily struggle if we are to attain, maintain and improve a "conscious contact" with the God of our understanding.

If we look at "the seven deadly sins" which Bill discusses in Step Seven of The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions - pride, greed, anger, lust, gluttony, envy and sloth - we can see that all of these "sins" (or, better yet, thinking that has gone awry) are manifestations of an egocentric concern that the desires of the "small self" or "ego" will not be fulfilled. We are "proud" because we fear that we are better (or worse) than others, "jealous" because we fear the loss of someone or something we have, "envious" because we fear we will not get something we currently lack, etc.

The truth is, however, that it is impossible to stem the desires or quell the fears of the human ego. By its very nature - being nothing but a false mental perspective and identity driven by out-of-control desires and fears - our "small self" is divinely incapable of being satisfied. Thus, if we are to survive and flourish in recovery, we must find the means of moving beyond the ego's "false self." Self-examination, meditation and prayer makes this possible.

"Relieve me of the bondage of self," we pray in the Third Step Prayer. "I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad," we avow in the Seventh Step Prayer. And, in the Eleventh Step Prayer, we acknowledge that "it is by self-forgetting that we find."

Yet prayer, while in and of itself bringing great benefit, must be accompanied by continuing (and, ideally, continuous) self examination and the practice of meditation if we are to make the breakthrough that we so desperately need. It is through these interrelated disciplines that we become able to distinguish the voice of our small, egoic self from the higher awareness of God-consciousness, a consciousness which amounts to "a new state of consciousness and being."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 107.]

In sobriety, with the crisis of active addiction in our past, we must next confront our addiction to ego-identification, a confrontation that for most of us will result either from a tremendous act of grace or, perhaps more usually, from a profound crisis or intense suffering in sobriety. After all, we now no longer have the fleeting reprieve from such crises and suffering that we once found, however fleetingly, in drink and/or by drugs; and, if we are to truly find peace of mind and lasting sobriety we must need overcome the self-will that runs riot within us, tormenting us and hurting us (and those around us) by its corruptive action.

Our suffering, one noted author observes, triggers "an inner realization, a perception which pierces through the facile complacency of our usual encounter with the world to glimpse the insecurity perpetually gaping underfoot. . . . When this insight dawns, even if only momentarily, it can precipitate a profound personal crisis. It overturns accustomed goals and values, mocks our routine preoccupations, (and) leaves old enjoyments stubbornly unsatisfying."

[Bhikku Bodhi, "The Noble Eightfold Path: Way to the End of Suffering," p. 1.]

The antidote to the "small self" of the "ego" lies in the faith that "deep down within us" we can make a conscious connection with a Power greater than our egoic self-sense. "In the last analysis," we read, "it is only there" where such God-consciousness "can be found." (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 55.)

By refusing to react to the crises that try our spirit by further exertion of self-will, and by rather responding to such crises by application of the 12 Steps (particularly through a renewed emphasis on self-examination, meditation and prayer), we begin to overcome the addiction to self that lies at the center of all our difficulties, and we thus begin living a life of emotional sobriety devoid of the overbearing desires and fears of the ego.

Fear and Fearlessness

"Fearlessness is the first requirement of spirituality. Cowards can never be moral."

-- Mahatma Gandhi --

Over and over in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous the subject of fear crops up. Indeed, the original A.A. members represented in the 'Big Book' do not ask, suggest or demand that we be fearless in working the 12 Steps, they beg us "to be fearless and thorough from the very start."

Why this emphasis on fear and fearlessness? I suggest that it is because there are two visceral reactions to life that shape and sustain the ego - fear and its conjoined counterpart, desire. Indeed, we read that the alcoholic addict is "(d)riven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking and self-pity."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 62.]

In describing how to make a moral inventory, we read that: "We (review) our fears thoroughly. We put them on paper even though we had no resentment in connection with them. We asked ourselves why we had them. Wasn't it because self-reliance failed us?"

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 68.]

Looking at my own fears, it is clear that some - like fear of snakes, large barking dogs, and immense heights - are just instinctual. Recognizing that fear in such instances is just part of an instinctive "fight, flee or freeze" reaction, it is easy enough to overcome such fears, or at least to act in the face of them. Why do I have such fears? Because humans have always had such visceral reactions to imminent danger. They are hard-wired survival mechanisms.

But what about those other fears on my list - seemingly non-instinctive and secondarily-instinctive angsts such as a fear of the opposite sex, fear of speaking in public, fear of financial insecurity, fear about what others think of me, fear of the abstract concept of my own mortality? Such anxieties are not inherent, but rather are produced by the fear-based thought processes of the human ego.

Such self-centered (i.e., ego-centric) fears are symptomatic of the restless and egoic thinking of the addictive mind, and it is thus necessary to address such fears from a different mode of thought and consciousness than mere self-consciousness. Reliance on the "self" or "ego"  (i.e., "self-reliance") indeed fails me with respect to such fears. (It was Einstein who famously said: "We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.)

What is always required when dealing with these purely egoic fears is a recurrence to the God-consciousness wherein the voice of the ego disappears.

It is, I believe, in this sense that Gandhi says the first requirement of spirituality is fearlessness. So long as the ego is active the spirit is absent. And absent the courage - i.e., the purity of heart - that is inherent in the higher state of God-consciousness, it is impossible to act sanely in the face of such fears, and experience shows that instead I react to such anxieties.

Remember: "(T)he main problem of the alcoholic centers in his mind." And the only solution lies in the deeper recesses and higher consciousness of the soul. Therein is a Power greater than one's "self" that will, when found, restore one to sanity and allow one to do or say that which was unthinkable before.

The Tavern of Ecstatic Experience

"In the tavern," writes Rumi translator and poet Coleman Barks, "are many wines - the wine of delight in color and form and taste, the wine of the intellect's agility, the fine port of stories, and the cabernet of soul singing. Being human means entering this place where entrancing varieties of desire are served. The grapeskin of ego breaks and a pouring begins. Fermentation is one of the oldest symbols for human transformation. When grapes combine their juice and are closed up together for a time in a dark place, the results are spectacular. This is what lets two drunks meet so that they don't know who is who. Pronouns no longer apply in the tavern's mud-world of excited confusion and half-articulated wantings."

"But after some time in the tavern," Barks observes, "a point comes, a memory of elsewhere, a longing for the source, and the drunks must set off from the tavern and begin the return. The Qur'an says, "We are all returning." The tavern is a kind of glorious hell that human beings enjoy and suffer and then push off from in their search for truth. The tavern is a dangerous region where sometimes disguises are necessary, but never hide your heart, Rumi urges. Keep open there. A breaking apart, a crying out into the street, begins in the tavern, and the human soul turns to find its way home."

"Alcohol in Latin," Carl Jung pointed out to to Bill W., "is 'spiritus" and you use the same word for the highest religious experience as well as for the most depraving poison. The helpful formula therefore is: spiritus contra spiritum."

In the attached video this recognition of alcohol as a surrogate (or in Barks' case, a symbol) for spiritual awakening is continued. In it Dr. Robert Johnson, a Jungian analyst and author, notes that "if we do not get our ecstasy, which is an archetypal quality, in a legitimate way we will get it in an illegitimate way, which accounts for much of the chaos in our culture now. We have to have an ecstatic dimension of our lives."

The following poem by the great Sufi poet, Rumi, who is often called "the Shakespeare of mysticism," is from the first chapter in Coleman Barks' "The Essential Rumi."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

THE MANY WINES

God has given us a dark wine so potent that,

drinking it, we leave the two worlds.

God has put into the form of hashish a power

to deliver the taster from self-consciousness.

God has made sleep so
that it erases every thought.

God made Majnun love Layla so much that

just her dog would cause confusion in him.

There are thousands of wines
that can take over our minds.

Don't think all ecstasies
are the same!

Jesus was lost in his love for God.
His donkey was drunk with barley.

Drink from the presence of saints,
not from those other jars.

Every object, every being,
is a jar full of delight.

Be a connoisseur,
and taste with caution.

Any wine will get you high.
Judge like a king, and choose the purest

the ones unadulterated with fear,
or some urgency of "what's needed."

Drink the wine that moves you
as a camel moves when its untied
and is just ambling about.

Fear, Desire and Defects of Character

In doing our Fourth Step, we are instructed to review our fears "thoroughly," to write them down on paper, even where there is no resentment connected with them. Then we are asked "why" we had such fears, and questioned as to whether or not it is because our "self-reliance" had totally failed us. This realization is helpful in seeing the root cause of the fears (that are elsewhere discussed as being the "chief activator" of our defects of character), but it says very little about the process by which these fears themselves arise.

To understand how and why fear arises within us, one needs to turn to The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, where the "flip-side" of fear - instinctive desire - is discussed. "Every normal person," we read at Step Six, "wants . . . to eat, to reproduce, to be somebody in the society of his fellows. And he wishes to be reasonably safe and secure as he tries to attain these thing." We all have, and will continue to have instinctive desires, it is how we deal with them that determines how and to what extenet fear will continue to rule our lives and dictate our behaviours.

"Since most of us are born with an abundance of natural desires," the reading continues, "it isn't strange that we often let these far exceed their intended purpose. When they drive us blindly, or we willfully demand that they supply us more satisfactions or pleasures than are possible or due to us, that is the point at which we depart from the degree of perfection that God wishes for us here on earth. That is the measure of our character defects, or, if you wish, our sins."

Our instinctive drives are very basic. We have a need for air, water, food, clothing and warmth. On top of these we have an instinctive drive for sex, and as social creatures, a place in the human community. For most of us, barring natural or man-made disaster, securing these basic human needs and aspirations is straight forward and far from an impossible feat. Yet, are we satisfied once these needs are met? For most people, it would seem on the face of it, we would have to say "no," based on the behaviour that we see surrounding us. And perhaps, as a class, alcoholic addicts (once clean and sober) are amongst those least satisfied with the lot that falls to them.

Remember, as it says in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous, that we are "driven people." Are we satisfied with three square meals a day, a roof to sleep under, and a companion and friends with which to share our lives? What about the promotion we now so richly deserve? What about that new car? What about new clothes? What about what other people might think of us? What about the people we want or "need" to impress?

Clearly, as is pointed out, "it is nowhere on the record that God has completely removed from any human being all his natural drives. Why and to what extent, then, do we continue to let our instinctive desires drive us blindly? Why do we allow our desires to create within us the room in which we allow our character defects to operate? Why with our needs for the day met do we obsessively work to ensure that tomorrow's desires - for food, clothes, sex, companionship etc. - will be met in surplus?

One answer may be, as many noted spiritual authorities attest, that there is within us a typically unrecognized desire for transcendence, for something much greater than the here and now. The alcoholic addict's "craving for alcohol (is) on a low level." Carl Jung observed, "the thirst of our being for wholeness, in medieval terms: union with God." And, similarly, I would suggest that our thirst for money, for prestige, power and sex, etc. is a similar misplaced thirst for the transcendent. Out of this thirst, or desire, arises the fear (rightly founded) that this thirst will not be quenched, as, in reality it cannot be. Then, because of this irrational fear, we act out, seeking to grasp more than we could possibly consume, all in a quest for a happiness which ever eludes us.

The solution to this dilemma is, as always, that the God of our understanding can restore us to sanity, if we seek our satisfaction there. This is not common sense. We are not taught this by society. Rather, it is uncommon sense. We need to seek a higher, acceptive consciousness that will allow us to fully accept and enjoy the here and now, instead of remaining mired in the egoic consciousness of "self" which is forever unsatisfied. To access this higher consciousness, and to attain, maintain and improve our conscious contact with a God which relieves our suffering (not only from alcohol or drugs, but also from fear, desire and our character defects) is the purpose of the Twelve Steps.

A Thirst of Our Being for Wholeness

The word "addiction" has the same Latin root as the words "diction" and "dictator" - 'ad' + 'dicere' - which means, essentially, that the addict really has "no say" in his or her behavior.

At heart, a spiritual malady, the "false spirits" of alcohol, drugs, sex, or what have you, gives the addict a taste of the divine, but he or she is never allowed to remain. And, over time, it takes more and more of that which he or she is addicted to, just to get a glimpse of the state of peace and good feeling that was once achieved. Eventually, even a glimpse will be out of reach of the then hopeless addict. And then the individual, once fully addicted, really has no say in how this process inevitably works out.

The thirst of the alcoholic, Carl Jung explained to Bill Wilson, is "the equivalent on a low level of the spiritual thirst of our being for wholeness, expressed in medieval terms: union with God."

Addiction is thus a "separation" of our consciousness and being from Wholeness, and unless we can overcome the duality of the false ego of the seeming "self" and our true state of consciousness and being, we will once again try to approach the divine with whatever our drink or drug of choice may be.

Ram Dass - a spiritual teacher who knows a thing or two about addiction - puts it this way: "What you find out with most addictive things (is) that they give you a short rush but they don't allow you to remain at home. They just allow you the taste of it. And then the minute you get thrown out, you go to heaven but you can't stay because you didn't come in through the right way."

However, Dass notes, "(w)hen you start to stand back and see your predicament and see what you are doing, there is a way from a spiritual perspective in which you begin with that slight bit of awareness to extricate yourself from the chain of reactivity" that keeps you in addiction.

"When people come to me with addictions," Dass says, "I'm inclined to say, start doing spiritual practices. Start doing the studies that will allow you to see yourself in a new way, that will allow you to understand what that hunger is you are feeding in a new way, to just get a little different perspective on it."

"The line I always use," he says, "is, "How poignant I am! How poignant the human condition!"

Chasing Our Desires

Chasing our desires is like blindly chasing dragons. Unexpectedly, they turn on us and we get burnt. Moreover, spiritually it is an impossibility to fulfill our desires, as for every desire or demand that we satisfy, new desires will always arise to take their place. Thus, the alcoholic addict in recovery is threatened as much by his or her success in seemingly conquering life, as he or she ever was by active addiction. The stories of countless A.A.'s contained within the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous and within the confines of our meeting rooms makes clear that, both before and after our active addiction, life remains unmanageable.

The basic problem with our seeking to fulfill what seem to be natural desires by our own means is that, as it so ably expressed in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions: "Instead of regarding our material desires as the means by which we could live and function as human beings, we (take) these satisfactions to be the final end and aim of life."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p. 71.]

Mistaking the drives created by our desires in such a manner makes for an obsessive compulsion in the ego to see that all our desires are met, with the fear that they will not be met triggering our acting out in accordance with our character defects in a vain effort to satisfy the unsatisfiable. "The chief activator of our defects has been self-centered fear," we are reminded, "primarily fear that we would lose something we already possessed or would fail to get something we demanded."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p. 76.]

"Living upon a basis of unsatisfied demands," The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions continues, "we were in a state of continual disturbance and frustration. Therefore, no peace was to be had unless we could find a means of reducing these demands."

Since we cannot long stand being in a disturbed and frustrated state - particularly if there seems to be nothing more we should want - finding an inner peace devoid of further desires and their emotionally crippling demands is an imperative if we are to survive our own defects of character.

"Since most of us are born with an abundance of natural desires," Bill writes in his Step Six Essay, "it isn't strange that we often let these exceed their intended purpose. When they drive us blindly, or we willfully demand that they supply us with more satisfactions or pleasures than are possible or due us, that is the point at which we depart from the degree of perfection that God wishes for us here on earth. That is the measure of our character defects, or, if you wish, of our sins."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p. 65.]

Instinctive desires run wild thus create the mental and emotional space for the ego (or our "self-centered thinking") to operate in. And it is these desires that we must let go of, as they invoke within us the old "ideas emotions and attitudes" that will lead us back into addiction. Therefore the question is, having once "turned our will and our life over to the care of God as we understand him," are we willing to do so continually, leaving our will and our lives (along with our insatiable desires) to be managed by a Power greater than our narrow, egoic "selves"? Steps Six, Seven and Eleven are critical for this continual process of self-forgetting.

Putting aside our desires, and seeking to free ourselves of "the bondage of self," we begin to replace the self-seeking of the ego with a conscious contact with God. Completing the Steps, making amends  where possible, continuing to take a daily inventory, and beginning the sincere practice of prayer and meditation makes this possible.

"There is a direct linkage among self-examination, meditation and prayer," we read on page 98 of the The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. "Taken separately, these practices can bring much relief and benefit. But when they are logically related and interwoven, the result is an unshakeable foundation."

By seeking to forego our desires in favor of meditation, prayer and a continuing self-inventory, in this manner, we may be granted what amounts to "a new state of consciousness and being" that is truly desireless and therefore fulfilled in its basic nature.

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p. 107.]

On Desire, Fear and the Activation of Our Character Defects

In Step Four, we see how the word "fear" occurs again and again in the third column of our resentments list. Then, again, on the last page of the Step Seven essay in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, we read: "The chief activator of our defects of character has been self-centered fear - primarily fear that we would lose something we already possessed or would fail to get something we demanded."

But why are our lives shot through with fear? If we re-examine the fourth column of our Step Four inventory - what our part was in the situations we are still resentful about - we can ask why we have these fears, and the answer will almost inevitably come back that our basic interests or desires are threatened.

In the examples given in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. fear is bracketed three times beside 'self-esteem' and once beside 'security.' This prompts the question: Do we not have overbearing desires to be seen and treated in a certain fashion? Do we not willfully demand that other people see us and treat us in the manner we demand?

Step Six in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions suggests that we do.

"Since most of us are born with an abundance of natural desires," we read, "it isn't strange that we often let these far exceed their intended purpose. When they drive us blindly, or we willfully demand that they supply us with more satisfactions or pleasures that are possible or due to us, that is the point at which we depart from the degree of perfection that God wishes for us here on earth. That is the measure of our character defects, or, if you wish, our sins."*

Thus, while fear is "the chief activator" of our character defects, it is our desire-fuelled demands upon life and other people that is "the measure of our character defects," that create the mental space for our fear-activated character defects to become operative.

If we do not have a desire about how we wish to be seen by others and stake our self-esteem on it, for example, then we can have no fear that we will not be perceived in that specific light. The same is true for the myriad of other desires about the amount of money we want, the personal and intimate relationships we crave, and the social positions we want to hold. This, of course, is the reason why all of the world's great wisdom and religious traditions identify our desires as the root of our human suffering.

Thus, in the Gospel of Luke, we read:

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!"

"And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest?"

"Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!"

"And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you."

[Luke 12:22-31]

Similarly, according to the Buddha, the cause of our suffereing is our identification with the mind, and just so long as we live in the mind, then the desires of the mind will coninue, and with each desire further suffering. Desire, according to the Buddha, is the root cause suffering, and so he taught the path of witnessing the desires and, thus, going beyond the mind.

To this effect, the Buddha taught:

If you are not awakened, desire grows in you like a vine in the forest. Like a monkey in the forest, you jump from tree to tree, never finding the fruit - from life to life, never finding peace. If you are filled with desire, your sorrows swell like the grass after the rain. But if you subdue desire, your sorrows shall fall from you like drops of water from a lotus flower.

And, on fear, the Buddha notes: "The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed."

If we fearlessly face the proposition that God is either everything or nothing (see page 53 of the 'Big Book'), and we answer in the affirmative, then we can begin to realize that there is no other desire that need be filled. And if there are no desires, there is no fear that our desires will not be fulfilled, and therefore no activation of our defects of character through the action of our egoic self-consciousness.

While fear is, thus, the "chief activator" of our defects of character, without our self-centered desires, there can be no fear.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

* Many people shy away from the words "sin" or "sins." The term originates from a Greek archery term for when an archer misses his target, presumably to the left (as the Greeks called the right hand 'dexterous' and the left hand 'sinister'). Thus, the word "sin" is originally a metaphor for when our thoughts miss their mark. Understanding this, helped me to stay open-minded about the concept of "sin" (particularly regarding the 'seven deadly sins' of pride, greed, anger, lust, gluttony envy and sloth, as discussed in Step Seven in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions), as - like alcoholic addiction - "sin" implies a physical and mental shortfall, rather than a moral failing per se.

The Cause of "Self-Centered Fear" - A Buddhist Perspective

"What now is the Noble Truth of the Extinction of Suffering? It is the complete fading away and extinction of this craving, its forsaking and giving up, the liberation and detachment from it."

"But where may this craving vanish, where may it be extinguished? Wherever in the world there are delightful and pleasurable things, there this craving may vanish, there it may be extinguished."

"Be it in the past, present or future: whosoever of the monks or priests regards the delightful and pleasurable things of the world as impermanent (annica), miserable (dukkha) and without an Ego (an-atta), as a disease and sorrow, it is he who overcomes the craving."

["A Buddhist Bible," Dwight Goddard, ed., page 31.]

 * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The chief activators of our defects has been our self-centered fear," we read in Step Seven of the "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, "primarily fear that we would lose something we already possessed or would fail to get something we demanded. Living upon a basis of unsatisfied demands, we were in a state of continual disturbance and frustration."

What then is the source of our "self-centered fear?" Quite obviously it is our attachments to and desires (or cravings) for some person, thing, idea, circumstance or situation that we are essentially powerless to hold onto or grasp, as everything in life it turns out is fleeting at best.

This is an essential truth of all wisdom or religious teachings, and is the Second Noble Truth, the truth of the cause of suffering, in the great Buddhist tradition. The Third Noble Truth, the truth of the end of suffering, is that if we end this perpetual clinging and craving (we give up our "usnsatisfied" and, ultimately, unsatisfiable "demands") we end our suffering. "No peace was to be had unless we could find a means of reducing these demands," Bill observes. A true statement, indeed, in my experience.

In the first of a series of articles on The Huffington Post, author Kevin Griffin ("One Breath At a Time: Buddhism and the Twelve Steps"), writes:

"The function of the first Step . . . is more than just telling us we have a problem with addiction. It is the realization that the whole premise of our pleasure-seeking lives is flawed. Another classic template for spiritual transformation makes this same statement: the Buddha's Four Noble Truths.

The Buddha starts his teaching with the recognition of all the ways that life is challenging, physically and mentally: that we're often stuck with what we don't want or wishing we had something else; that we inevitably get old and sick and die. Just like Step One, he's trying to get us to see past the surface to what's really going on. The starting point of both paths, then, is to see the truth: in 12 Step terms, to come out of denial; in Buddhist terms, to shed delusion. To begin on any spiritual path, and to deal with the destructive power of addiction, we have to be honest with ourselves."

Once we have made this honest start, and have "come to believe" that there is a "Power" or "Great Reality" that we can tap into which remains, for now, "obscured" but that is "deep down within us" ("Alcoholics Anonymous," page 55), we can set about clearing away the "calamity, pomp and worship of other things" that obscure this "inner resource" (the "Spiritual Experience" appendix). And, we do this by working on the craving for, or clinging to, our "old ideas" that there is a person, thing situation or circumstance that will bring us ultimate happiness and satisfaction. Like the "Power" that manifests these feelings, in reality, true happiness and satisfaction are only found within.

We therefore need to disattach from our outer "self" - or "ego" - along with its clinging to the idea that something we have or might get will ultimately fulfill us. It is an illusion, and these desires give rise to the fear (the unthought recognition, perhaps) that we will not attain our misdirected goals, and so activate our character defects. And, it is when our actions are motivated by these character defects that we step on other people's toes, in our vain efforts to "manage life."

Thus, as Bill (and the Buddha) recognized, while the "chief activator of our defects has been our self-centered fear," it is our unexamined desires that activate this ego-centric, or self-centered fear. Or, as Griffin notes:

"As long as we believe that pleasure-seeking and acquisition are the way to happiness, and that all we have to do is get better at acquiring and holding on to things, we will never resolve the real problem. That's because, as the Buddha tells us, what's actually causing suffering is the very attempts to control and acquire, our craving and clinging. He points out that, since everything is constantly changing, there's nothing that we can actually control or hold on to. His strategy, then, is to let go, to surrender -- exactly the solution offered by the 12 Steps." (Emphasis added.)

* * * * * * *

What is your reaction to this unorthodox look at the 12 Steps process? Do you have any comments that you would like to share. If you do, please do so, below.

The Hole In the Doughnut . . . Or, Becoming Whole

Bill Wilson was a very good writer with a gift for to-the-point wording and suggestive imagery. The "juggernaut of self-will" (at page 38 of the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions) springs to mind. Like actions based on self-will, juggernauts - the massive battle ships built for the First World War - once underway take a great deal of power to stop and are enormously difficult to turn around.

My favorite of Bill's images, however, is that of the "doughnut hole." In his discussion of Step Three in the Twelve and Twelve (at page 36) Bill puts words in the mouth of a newcomer who is willing to turn his will and life over to the care of A.A. ("a Power greater than himself") insofar as it relates to alcohol. But that's it! In all other areas he clings to the notion that he must retain control.

"What will become of me? I'll look
like the hole in the doughnut"

 "Yes," the imaginary newcomer says, "respecting alcohol, I guess I have to be dependent upon A.A., but in all other matters I must still maintain my independence. Nothing is going to turn me into a non-entity. If I keep on turning my will and life over to the care of Something or Somebody else, what will become of me? I'll look like the hole in the doughnut."

The "hole in the doughnut" is my favorite image  because it shows not only the fear and insecurity of, in fact, turning one's will and life over to a still-mysterious "Higher Power" - even on an experimental basis - but it also shows how backwards our thinking can be. To the newcomer, the "hole in the doughnut" is just how it is described, a "non-entity." But, from a different perspective, the "hole" is the essence of the doughnut. A doughnut is hardly a doughnut without its hole.

At a deeper level, too, the struggle of the self-conscious, self-focused, self-centered alcoholic addict is to leave his or her egoic "self" behind in order to become part of the Whole. The nagging question - "What will become of me?" - can be either a compelling obsession to base all one's actions on the self-conscious thoughts coursing through the mind, or it can become the death rattle of the ego. Bill notes that the existential ("What will become of me?") question "is the process by which instinct and logic always seek to bolster egotism, and so frustrate spiritual development."

We hear much talk of fear at meetings and in the fellowship, but we hear far less talk about the flip-side of fear: desire. In Steps Four through Seven in the Twelve and Twelve, there is much discussion of desire, although Bill alternatively talks about it in terms of instincts, drives or desires. We all have "instincts" or "desires" for personal security, financial security, emotional security, sex and the society of our fellows etc., but a nagging sense of lack (or at least an often unrecognized sense that fulfillment of all of these desires is temporary at best) can drive us, as Bill notes, to blindly strive for more and more gratification of these demands of the ego without ever fully satisfying them. (As A.A. pioneer, Chuck C., so often noted, "It is divinely impossible to satisfy the human ego.")

Indeed, we are overtly and covertly taught or accultured to the sense that the fulfillment of these "instincts" is the primary purpose of life. Isn't "the American Dream" of marrriage, the house with the white picket fence, the 2.4 children and a comfortable retirement, not merely securing to oneself the fruits of these "universal" desires? But, as many (although perhaps not enough) people know, even when obtained these "rewards" for hard-work well done, diligence and good fortune are not sufficient in themselves to overcome the ego's insecurity and sense of wanting "something more."

". . . instinct and logic always
seek to bolster egotism . . ."

Indeed, it is in letting go of the ego's constant seeking and planning to get the "something more" or the "something else" that it always seems to need, that we find true purpose and happiness. Letting go of the relentless grinding of "instinct and logic" we are able to grow spiritually, and thus overcome "egotism." In doing so we reconnect with others, with life, and with "a Power greater than ourselves."

In letting go of "ego" and its "self-consciousness," we reconnect with a deeper God-consciousness and the "Essence" at the center of our being. In truth, we become that Essence - an essential part of the Whole - just as the doughnut hole is always the essence of the doughnut.