Suffering and Spiritual Awakening

"As long as we placed self-reliance first, a genuine reliance upon a Higher Power was out of the question. That basic ingredient of all humility, a desire to seek and do God's will, was missing."

"For us, the process of gaining a new perspective was unbelievably painful."

". . . In every case (however), pain (has) been the price of admission into a new life. But this admission price has purchased more than we expected. It brought a measure of humility, which we soon discovered to be a healer of pain. We began to fear pain less, and desire humility more than ever."

". . . We saw we needn't always be bludgeoned and beaten into humility. It  could come quite as much from our voluntary reaching for it as it could from unremitting suffering." (Emphasis added.)

Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pages 72 & 76

Arctic explorer, Knud Rasmussen, (1879-1933), returned to Europe with stories of the suffering endured by Inuit shamans, the "medicine men" of the High Arctic, in their ritual initiations. One such shaman, Igjugarjuk, told Rasmussen how as a young adolescent he had been taken out on the ice-floes by an elder shaman. There, in the constant dark and cold of a polar winter, he had been left by himself in a snow shelter for forty days with minimal contact in order that he might meditate upon "the Great Spirit," and thereby attain a spiritual awakening.

"Sometimes I died a little," Igjugarjuk said. But, then, he told Rasmussen, "a helping spirit" arrived "in the form of a woman who seemed to hover in the air above (me)." After this, he was taken home by the elder shaman, there to diet and fast for an additional five months under the elder shaman's guidance. Such ordeals, he told Rasmussen, are "the best means of attaining a knowledge of hidden things."

"The only true wisdom," lgjugarjuk said, "lives far from mankind, out in the great loneliness, and can be reached only through suffering. Privation and suffering alone open the mind of a man to all that is hidden to others."

Najagneq, circa 1922

Another shaman, Najagneq, told Rasmussen of his "venture into the silence," an ordeal in which he met the spirit he called Sila - a spirit, according to Najabneq, that "cannot be explained in so many words." "Sila," he told Rasmussen, is "a very strong spirit, the upholder of the universe, of the weather, in fact of all life on earth. (A spirit) so mighty that his speech to man comes not through ordinary words, but through storms, snowfall, rain showers, the tempests of the sea, all the forces that man fears, or through sunshine, calm seas, or small, innocent, playing children who understand nothing."

"When times are good," Najagneq told Rasmussen, "Sila has nothing to say to mankind. He has disappeared into his infinite nothingness and remains away as long as people do not abuse life but have respect for their daily food. No one has ever seen Sila," he said. "His place of sojourn is so mysterious that he is with us and infinitely far away at the same time."

"The inhabitant or soul of the universe," Najagneq said, "is never seen; its voice alone is heard. All we know is that it has a gentle voice, like a woman, a voice so fine and gentle that even children cannot become afraid. And what it says is: 'Sila ersinarsinivdluge,'" i.e., "There is nothing to be afraid of in the universe."

(From Schizophrenia: The Inward Journey, by Joseph Campbell)

The alcoholic addict, in recovery, knows much about suffering - both the untreated suffering of addiction, and the suffering that is frequently endured in sobriety as he or she awakens to to the spiritual power that resides "deep down in every man woman and child." (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 55.)

"Faith is a dark night for man," St. John of the Cross wrote in The Dark Night of the Soul, "but in this very way it gives him light. . . . Like a blind man he must lean on dark faith, accept it for his guide and light, and rest on nothing of what he understands, tastes, feels, or imagines. . . . To reach the supernatural bounds a person must depart from his natural bounds and leave self far off in respect to his interior and exterior limits in order to mount from a low state to the highest."

"When we became alcoholics, crushed by a self-imposed crisis we could not postpone or avoid," writes Bill W. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 53), "we had to fearlessly face the proposition that either God is everything or else he is nothing. God either is, or He isn't. What was our choice to be?"

Painful as it may be, for every alcoholic addict has a lower or higher pride - be it pride of intellect, pride of independence, pride of person, pride of strength, or even pride of faith - each such person, on attaining true humility, will have passed his or her 'Dark Night of the Soul' and will have attained to a quiet consciousness of the Spirit, or God, that pervades their being and the world around them.

Seeking Humility

"Out of suffering may come the transmutation of values, even the transfiguration of character. But these developments are possible only if the man co-operates. If he does not, then the suffering is in vain, fruitless."

-- Paul Brunton --
("Perspectives," page 157.)

In reading through the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous we come to see that selfishness and self-centeredness - i.e., egoism - are the root causes of our addiction, and that "self" or "ego" must be gotten rid of, or at least reduced at depth, if we are to live happy, sane, and productive lives. The shift from living an egocentric life to one that is God-centered is, however, a transition that requires an act of great humility. It is to wholly admit that life is, in fact, unmanageable and to humbly admit that we cannot be rid of our character defects by any action of our own unaided will. It is to admit that that which we had relied upon - our self-will - has failed us. Thus, we read in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (at page 72),  that "the process of gaining this new perspective is unbelievably painful."

"It was only by repeated humiliations that we were forced to learn something about humility," we read. "It was only at the end of a long road, marked by successive defeats and humiliations, and the final crushing of our self-sufficiency, that we began to feel humility as something more than a condition of grovelling despair."

Fortunately, as philosopher Paul Brunton notes (above), we can co-operate in our own transformation. Indeed, at page 75 of The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions we read that "we needn't always be bludgeoned and beaten into humility;" but, rather, that "(i)t could come quite as much from our voluntary reaching for it as it could from unremitting suffering."

 "A great turning point in our lives came," we read, "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 implication of Step Seven: "Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.""

Just as honesty means that we don't have to remember our story, so humility means that we do not have to remember our persona, our actor's role. Is humility something I truly want in life? If so, am I willing to let go of my own story?  If I don't, as Brunton notes, all the suffering of my alcoholic addiction will have been in vain.

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.""

The 'Actor' and the New 'Director'

"If his arrangements would only 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, he may be mean, egotistical, selfish and dishonest. But, as with most humans, he is more likely to have varied traits."

-- Alcoholics Anonymous, pages 60-61 --

The description of the individual as an actor is apt. Each of us has an array of characters that we play, all designed to get us what we want or think we need in a given situation, be it security, companionship, mental or emotional gratification, etc. Each of us is readily able to adopt the persona we think we need to project in order to get what we want in any given instance. And the more intense the situation, the more readily a person will adopt the seemingly required persona.

Indeed, the words "person"  and "persona" themselves are derived from the Greek word used for the masks worn by actors in the ancient ampitheatres. In this sense, as the author of the 'Big Book' notes, we are each like actors in a play - alcoholic, addict, and so-called 'normal' person alike. And each of us, as an "actor" is also a "hypocrite," as that is what the Greek word for an actor was.

Having made the admission of our "personal" powerlessness, the question then becomes: How do we get out of this all-too-human dilemma of being an ill-prepared actor who is compelled to try running the entire show?

The answer is once again humility. Just as being honest and telling the truth means that we do not have to remember what we say; so, too, being humble means we do not have to think about what persona we need to adopt in a given situation. Humility, thus gives us the ability to be who we are in our essence; not our smaller "self" or "ego," but our true Self, just one of the infinitely individualized aspects of God.

"This is the how and the why of it," we read at page 62 in Alcoholics Anonymous. "First of all we had to quit playing God. It didn't work. Next we decided that 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 such a 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, or the hereafter. We were reborn."

Powerful words. Yet, the idea of giving up the roles we have played to get what we want in order, in humility, to get what we need is a novel yet powerful idea. It is in surrendering - our personas, our directorship, and our lives as mere actors - that we win. And this is yet another of the great paradoxes of recovery that fly in the face of our old ideas and attitudes.

Ego, Humility and Grace

"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. . . .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."

"This improved perception of humility starts another revolutionary change in our outlook. Our eyes begin to open to the immense values which have come straight out of painful ego-puncturing."

-- The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 74 --

In a very real sense, Step Seven is the completion of the second half of Step One: Having admitted we could not manage our own lives - let alone life itself - and having determined to turn our will and our lives "over to the care of God as we understood him," we now confirm our decision to leave the management of life at that level, rather than vainly resuming the practice of managing life ourselves. This is ego-deflation at depth, and "painful ego-puncturing" at that, as we have been trained all of our lives that we must manage everything - or else!

At first the practice of humility is frightening. "What will become of me if such-and-such happens?" we ask ourselves, only to see in time that things never happen in precisely the way we imagine them and that, in most instances, our fears never materialize. We experience great pain, however, because we - or rather our egoic inner dialogue - assume that they will.

This, process of fear, desire and suffering continues just so long as we identify with the ego and believe whatever it thinks. The moment we realize that we are not the ego - that we are not whatever thought pops into our heads - the suffering stops. Yet it resumes immediately once we lose that awareness. Thus, the practice of Step Seven is repeatedly turning our will and lives over to the care of our Higher Power, and not just in making a decision to do so. In time we will become evermore humble in the truest sense of the word, in that we will be increasingly free of our egoic "self," and each time we experience suffering it will become a sign that we once more need to center ourselves in order to "Let Go, and Let God."

"For us," we read in Step Seven, "this process of gaining a new perspective was unbelievably painful. . . . It was only at the end of a long road, marked by successive defeats and humiliations, and the final crushing of our self-sufficiency, that we began to feel humility as something more than a condition of groveling despair." (Emphasis added.) Fortunately, however, we eventually learn that the requisite degree of humility needed to overcome the ego may "come quite as much from our voluntary reaching for it as it could from unremitting suffering."

"A great turning point in our lives," we read, "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 implication of Step Seven: "Humbly asked Him to remove our our shortcomings."" For, in the end, we can only find grace within God, and it is in practicing Step Seven that we are freed from the egoic self and obtain to that level of grace with its ensuing peace of mind.

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pages 72 and 74]

Spiritual Pride and the Quality, Rather than Quantity, of Faith

"Now let's take the guy full of faith, but still reeking of alcohol. He believes he is devout. His spiritual observance is scrupulous. He's sure that he still believes in God, but suspects that God doesn't believe in him. He takes pledges and more pledges. Following each he not only drinks again, but acts worse than the last time. Valiantly he tries to fight alcohol, imploring God's help, but help doesn't come. What, then, can be the matter?"

"To clergymen, doctors, friends, and families, the alcoholic who means well and tries hard is a heartbreaking riddle. To most A.A.'s he is not. There are too many of us who have been just like him, and have found the answer. This answer has to do with the quality of faith rather than its quantity."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pp. 31-32.]

There are, in fact, many different levels of faith. For simplicity's sake let's look at three different levels or qualities of faith: intellectual faith, emotional faith, and experiential faith. The first, intellectual faith, comes with mere belief. We are raised into a faith and accept it's beliefs as reasonable and perhaps necessary. Or, perhaps, we adopt a faith, unquestioningly and as is. This is a form of blind faith, founded on nothing more than mere intellectual belief and compliance, and it is too easily shaken.

The second, higher level or quality of faith, is that based in the emotions. A devout and deep faith is inspired, and a great emotional impulse is felt as a result. Still, this higher level of faith is also partially blind, albeit blinded by the emotions rather than a merely intellectual belief system.

One can easily have either of these levels of faith and still not have the suffering of alcoholic addiction removed. One can too easily, as noted in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, be "full of faith but still reeking of alcohol." A.A.'s program of recovery, on the other hand, is intended not to invoke merely intellectual faith, inspiration and/or great emotional devotion. Rather, the Twelve Steps are intended to trigger the third, highest level of faith, a faith based on spiritual experience - a faith that is described as "a new state of consciousness and being."

Consider, if you will, the following passage taken from Appendix II of the 'Big Book' (i.e., the Spiritual Experience appendix):

"With few exceptions our members find that they have tapped an unsuspected inner resource which they presently identify with their own conception of a Power greater than themselves. Most of us think this awareness of a Power greater than ourselves is the essence of spiritual experience. Our more religious members call it "God-consciousness."" (Emphasis added.)

From the above, it should be clear that the curative we seek is not an internal or external belief system, or an elevated emotional state, but rather a broad yet heretofore hidden aspect of our very being, an experience in consciousness that takes us beyond the limited and limiting egoic self to "a new state of consciousness and being" that is co-extensive with God.*

It is far too easy to be fooled by the quantity of our faith rather than its quality, and the danger is that we can too easily be fooled by an egoic sense of spiritual pride, particularly if we come to A.A. (or any of its sister 12 Step organizations) with preformed religious or spiritual beliefs. And just as easily, we can adopt certain religious or spiritual beliefs which are good, in and of themselves, but which fall short of the requisite spiritual experience. The ego is a crafty and challenging foe. Religious prejudice and spiritual pride are often the last, yet highly effective, weapon that the ego wields against us.

Writing about the perils of the spiritual pride which can act as a block to the spiritual aspirant, philosopher Paul Brunton observed that:

"If the ego cannot trap him through his vices it will try to do so through his virtues. When he has made enough progress to warrant it, he will be led cunningly and insensibly into spiritual pride. Too quickly and too mistakenly he will believe himself to be set apart from other men by his attainments. When this belief is strong and sustained, that is, when his malady of conceit calls for a necessary cure, a pit will be dug for him by other men and his own ego will lead him straight into it."

[Psul Brunton, "The Notebooks of Paul Brunton," Vol. I, p. 138.]

All need not be for naught, however. For, as Brunton notes: "Out of the suffering which will follow this downfall, he will have a chance to grow humbler." And, with humility, comes the opportunity for true spiritual experience.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pages 106-107:

"When a man or woman has a spiritual awakening, the most important meaning of it is that he has now become able to do, feel, and believe that which he could not do before on his unaided strength and resources alone He has been granted a gift which amounts to a new state of consciousness and being."

Going Broke on Spiritual Pride

Bill W. was the recipient of a sudden and tremendous spiritual awakening. It is attested to by his work with Dr. Bob and the millions of individuals who are clean, sober and addiction-free today because of Alcoholics Anonymous (and its sister programs). But he was a man who wrestled with spiritual pride and the sudden and complete disappearance of all humility - and he knew it.

Writing in the June, 1961 Grapevine, he observed:

"There can be no absolute humility for us humans. At best, we can only glimpse the meaning and splendor of such an ideal. As the book Alcoholics Anonymous says: "We are not saints . . . we claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection. Only God himself can manifest in the absolute; we human beings must needs live and grow in the domain of the relative. We seek humility for today."

"Therefore our practical question is this: "Just what do we mean by 'humility for today' and how do we know when we have found it?""

"We scarcely need to be reminded that excessive guilt or rebellion leads to spiritual poverty. but it was a very long time before we knew we could go even more broke on spiritual pride."

Bill was, after all, by profession a stock promoter. Immediately after his spiritual awakening the thought came to him that his experience might serve as an illustration of how to get over alcoholism, and that one drunk working with another could spread like a "chain reaction" sobering up everybody who needed help. And he immediately set out to start such a chain reaction, but with absolutely no success until, in desperation to hold on to his own tenuous sobriety, he told his story to Doctor Bob.

Doctor Bob seems by all accounts to have been temperamentally a far more commonsensical man than Bill, who admittedly suffered the tendency to power drive in his quest to be "a number one man." It was Doctor Bob who coined and epitomized the A.A. slogan "Keep It Simple." And, though a fellow Vermonter, he seemed to have epitomized a mid-Western simplicity and humility. (Perhaps, as a physician, he was more acutely aware of our universal mortality, including his own.)

On his desk, he kept a plaque bearing the following inscription about humility:

HUMILITY

Perpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble, It is never to be fretted or vexed, irritable or sore; to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me.

It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised, it is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and pray to my Father in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is seeming trouble.

The ego is a sneaky, subtle force and foe. Having a spiritual awakening, it is far too easy for the ego to to take the position: "O.K. You want to be spiritual? Look how spiritual I can be!" And off goes our egoic self-consciousness, obsessed now with spirituality and our riff on what spirituality is, how it can be attained etc., instead of its usual wants, desires and fears.

It may be that the only time we are wholly free from the wiles of the ego is in meditation and contemplation. And this takes hard work and practice. "Perpetual quietness of heart" is a very high ideal, a rarefied consciousness that we are progressively alienated from as we age. That downward shift into pure self-consciousness is only accelerated by our years of addiction, alcoholic or otherwise.

Today, for me, I have to be just as aware of the inner dialogue going on about spirituality as I do of the "painful inner dialogue" of the usual ego-stuff. Though it is much more interesting to think about, it equally robs me of the experience of the here-and-now going on all around me. The time that I spend in quiet meditation and contemplation is inversely proportional, I find, to the amount of time I spend uselessly chattering away in my own head.

It is helpful to know that I have a "blessed home in myself" where I can go in and "be at peace." Particularly with my family and friends, I need to spend more time there than I spend trying to tell them about a "spiritual solution" to each of their "problems." It is, as Bill notes, far too easy to go "broke on spiritual pride." And I usually do so without noticing that I've already spent all the spiritual currency that I've set aside in the hours of quiet.

Step Six: Aiming at Perfection

"We aim at perfection," my sponsor often says, "knowing that we are going to fall short." This, of course, is the gist of the message in the Step Six essay in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, which helps us examine if we are "entirely ready" to have all of our character defects removed by the God of our understanding.

Step Six, in essence, asks whether we are ready to lead a wholly spiritual life - a decision that is difficult for all of us.

"(I)t seems plain," we read, "that few of us can quickly or easily become ready to aim at spiritual and moral perfection; we want to settle for only as much perfection as will get us by in life, according, of course, to our various and sundry ideas of what will get us by."

 Accordingly, "the difference between striving for a self-determined objective and for the perfect objective which is of God," is a mark of whether we are "entirely ready" to have our character defects removed through our efforts and with the grace of God. "The key words "entirely ready" underline the fact that we want to aim at the very best we know or can learn," Bill notes.

The difficulty with Step Six, it seems, is that when we honestly look at ourselves, we see that we are almost wholly reliant upon our habitual attitudes to get by, and to "manage" our lives and our interactions with others. Is there much difference between the man who projects a surly and -ill-tempered persona to keep other people walking on eggshells, and the beautiful woman who is alternatively flirtatious and coy in order to get her way with others? And what about the person who projects the image of being meek, mild and deferential? All these, and so many other roles we play, are the stuff of the tragedies and comedies of all ages.

Taking Step Six means that we become ready to drop these false personae and, with faith, allow our true "selves" to emerge from the shadows cast by the false egos we have habitually presented to the world. It is when we becoming willing to take what seems to be a huge risk in presenting our real character, that we embrace the aid and assistance of a Power greater than our small, self-cenetered egos. "This," we read, "is the exact point at which we abandon limited objectives, and move toward God's will for us." But we do not do so alone.

"Draw near to God," we read in the Scriptures, "and God will draw near to you." (James 1:8) As the great American Transcendentalist, Ralph Waldo Emerson observed:

"This intuition of the moral sentiment is an insight of the perfection of the laws of the soul. These laws execute themselves. They are out of time, out of space and not subject to circumstance. Thus in the soul of man there is a justice whose retributions are instant and entire. He who does a good deed is instantly ennobled. He who does a mean deed is by the action itself contradicted."

"If a man is at heart just, then in so far is he God; the safety of God, the immortality of God, the majesty of God do enter into that man with justice. If a man dissemble, deceive, he deceives himself, and goes out of acquaintance with his own being. A man in the view of absolute goodness, adores, with total humility. Every step so downward, is a step upward. The man who renounces himself, comes to himself.

"All things," Emerson observes, "proceed out of the same spirit, and all things conspire with it. Whilst a man seeks good ends, he is strong by the whole strength of nature. In so far as he roves from these ends, he bereaves himself of power, or auxiliaries; his being shrinks out of all remote channels, he becomes less and less, a mote, a point, until absolute badness is absolute death."

"The perception of this law of laws," Emerson suggests, "awakens in the mind a sentiment which we call the religious sentiment, and which makes our highest happiness. Wonderful is its power to charm and to command. It is mountain air."

["The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson," Modern Library Classics, pp. 64-65.]

"(A) blufffing of oneself will have to go the way of many another pleasant rationalization," we read in the Step Six essay. "At the very least, we shall have to come to grips with some of our worst character defects and take action toward their removal as quickly as we can." And it is Step Six which "is the exact point at which we abandon (such) limited objectives, and move toward God's will for us."

On Humility and Ego

"The average man is not humble; he may appear to be so, but inwardly he sets up mental resistance and barriers, and builds walls of prejudice against the truth. Humility consists in having a perfectly open mind, as though you were a new-born, and being able to receive with complete faith not only the words of those who know, but that which is still more important, that which is behind words, which is Spirit."

[Paul Brunton, "Discover Yourself," p. 68.]

The most leveling, the most humbling experience when we undertake the work of recovery - once we have admitted that life was is and will remain unmanageable -  is most typically taking and sharing a moral inventory.

Yet it is only through this process of self-scrutiny, and sharing its result with another person, that we can begin to deconstruct the root of our difficulty - egoism. We face who we are in front of the God of our own understanding and another person so that we no longer have to keep up the false pretenses we have been living our lives under

"More than most people," we read, "the alcoholic leads a double life. He is very much the actor. To the outer world he presents his stage character. This is the one he likes his fellows to see. He wants to enjoy a certain reputation, but knows in his heart he doesn't deserve it."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 73.]

In the "Co-Founders" pamphlet, Dr. Bob relates how at the very beginning of A.A., when it was just Bill, Bob and Bob's wife, Anne, sitting around their kitchen table in Akron, they found inspiration from the Bible, with the "Beatitudes," I Corinthians 13, and the Book of James being "absolutely essential" as they tried to carve out a life of sobriety and spiritual growth.

"A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways," we read in the Book of James, (James 1:8). Yet, further on, we also find an answer to the double life that we have been leading. "Draw near to God, and God will draw near to you," we read. "Wash clean your hands ye sinners; purify your hearts, ye double minded." (James 4:8).

These passages speak to the process of self-examination that we must go through before we can rid ourselves of the memories, fears and old ideas that are the raw fuel of the ego, the mental clutter which keep us separated and apart from both God and our fellow man.

How can I establish and then improve my conscious contact with a Power greater than my "self," if I am wholly caught up in the self-centeredness of egoic thinking? At that point, when haunted by what lurks in the dark crevasses of my lonely and separated ego, I have conscious contact only with my self and my old ideas and distorted memories.

Being honest, many of us were told, means we no longer have to remember the story. Being truly humbled, I would add, means we never have to remember who to be in any given situation. In this way, and this way only,  can we truly develop and foster a truly "open mind" cleansed from all the "calamity, pomp and worship of other things" that have separated us from our fellow beings and from the perhaps unsuspected Spirit we all have deep down within us.

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 55.]

Two Approaches to Anonymity

A controversial article in The New York Times and a thoughtful response on the Huffington Post highlight perhaps the most controversial issue in Alcoholics Anonymous since its founding - anonymity.

The Times article ("Challenging the Second 'A' in A.A.") is at once a  compendium and recital of the famous and would-be famous who have broken their anonymity at a very public level, as well as a calling-into-question of whether maintaining our "personal anonymity at the level of press, radio and film," as A.A.'s 11th Tradition suggests, is an anachronism in the "Information Age." While questioning the need for anonymity at a time when "Celebrity Rehab" is a prime-time reality show and the famous and merely notorious break their and others' anonymity routinely on venues like TMZ, the article wholly ignores the effect and potential effect that a public relapse might have on the alcoholic addict who is still in the throes of his or her addiction. And it is not as if this 'controversy' is new.

Going back in A.A. history, Bill W. recounts how, "(a)t one point, about a hundred of our Society were breaking anonymity at the public level. With perfectly good intent," he recalls, "these folks declared that the principle of anonymity was horse-and-buggy stuff, something appropriate to A.A. pioneering days." (The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 182). The article in the Times, despite its innately controversial subject matter, in all reality breaks very little new ground. Rather, it just reframes an old debate that has dogged us since our early days.

The Huffington Post response, on the other hand, takes a much deeper (and helpful) look at the issue of anonymity, focusing more on the 12th Tradition ("Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities."), than on maintaining or breaking one's anonymity "at the level of press, radio and film."

"You're not so much trying to establish your individuality as to let go of your sense of uniqueness," observes the Huffington Post contributor. "When we stop trying to stand out in this way, we are working from the premise that, as the 12-Step literature says, "Selfishness -- self-centeredness! That we think is the root of our troubles.""

"Dropping our last name and our sense of uniqueness," he notes, "is a way to counter this tendency of trying to be the most special person; of trying to control everything and everyone around us; of putting satisfaction of our own desires before the needs of those around us."

"Like many 12-Step ideas," he observes, "there is a brilliance in this one. Without exactly telling us why we are doing it, the tradition . . . guides us to an experience of letting go and an insight into our own suffering -- the suffering of self-centeredness."

"Make a list of all the roles you play," he suggests, "all your identities, whether it's work, family, friends, your talents, your personality traits, your emotional patterns, your addictive habits. Look at all the things that you call "I," like name, body, memories, plans, accomplishments, etc."

"Once you've got the list, go through it one-by-one and ask, "Is this permanent? Could it change? Does it belong to me? Do I control it?" Then ask yourself, "Does this ever cause me pain or discomfort? What would happen if I didn't believe this was 'me'? How can I stop clinging to this identity?""

This, it seems to me, is a far better approach, and one that is far more likely to result in our ideal of "attraction rather than promotion," than is idealistically breaking one's anonymity by seeking the spotlight to tout the miracle of A.A. when one is really only clean and sober today, just like the rest of us. . . . And it sure reduces the risk of a spectacular Sheen-ian meltdown and tirade against A.A. (or any of its sister organizations) if one does not try or succeed in adopting A.A.'s program and principles as a way of daily living.

From Self-Centered Resentment to a Quiet Humility

The basic problem of the alcoholic addict is "selfishness," or "self-centeredness" - our basic egocentric, self-consciousness - which is the very fabric of the inner narrative, or "painful inner dialogue," which seems to continuously run through our minds.

"Being convinced that self, manifested in various ways, was what had defeated us," we read in the 'Big Book,' "we considered its common manifestations." First of which, we read, is our pent-up anger or "resentments."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 64.]

"I must cease trying to forgive those who fretted and wronged me," we read in our meditation for the day. "It is a mistake for me even to think about these injuries. I must aim at overcoming myself in my daily life and then I will find there is nothing in me that remembers injury, because the only thing injured, my selfishness, is gone."

["Twenty-Four Hours a Day," May 3rd.]

 To let go of this inner narrative, to cease even thinking about such powerful old ideas as our long-held resentments, is the key to spiritual awakening and the essence of humility - being who we are in the deeper and higher portion of our consciousness and nature.

"Humility," reads a plaque on Dr. Bob's desk, is "(p)erpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble, It is never to be fretted or vexed, irritable or sore; to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me. . . . (I)t  is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and pray to my Father in secret and be at peace."

True humility, true peace and selflessness - the freedom from "the bondage of self" at the heart of our Third Step prayer - is the essence of a spiritual way of living. It is to be free of the self and egoless. In the most literal sense it is to have true peace of mind, the inner quiet that mystics, saints and contemplatives from  all the world's great religious or wisdom traditions have spoken of.

To seek such peace of mind, to practice "self examination, meditation and prayer" in order to realize one's true inner being is a luxury for ordinary men and women; yet, for the alcoholic addict it is vital necessity. Ultimately, the alcoholic addict must find such peace of mind in order to save his or her life. To do so, he or she must give up even thinking of old resentments. Thankfully, the 12 Steps are specifically set out so that such old, ego-centric thoughts and ways of thinking can be alleviated.

From "Grave Mental and Emotional Disorders" to "Emotional Sobriety"

One of Bill W.'s most self-revelatory writings, a letter he wrote to a close friend who also suffered from bouts of depression, was published in the January 1958 issue of the Grapevine under the title "Emotional Sobriety: The Next Frontier." It's also published at page 236 in "The Language of the Heart," and is essential reading if you or anyone you know suffers, as I have done, from what Winston Churchill called "the black dog" of periodic depression.

In it, Bill notes that "many oldsters who have put our 'booze cure' to severe but successful tests still find that they often lack emotional sobriety. Perhaps," he suggests, "they will be the spearhead for the next major development in AA - the development of much more real maturity and balance (which is to say humility) in our relations with ourselves, with our fellows, and with God."

He continues:

"Those adolescent urges that so many of us have for top approval, perfect security, and perfect romance - urges quite appropriate to age seventeen - prove to be an impossible way of life when we are at age forty-seven or fifty-seven."

"Since AA began, I've taken immense wallops in all these areas because of my failure to grow up, emotionally and spiritually. God, how painful it is to keep demanding the impossible, and how very painful to discover, finally, that all along we have had the cart before the horse! Then comes the final agony of seeing how awfully wrong we have been, but still finding ourselves unable to get off the emotional merry-go-round."

"How to translate a right mental conviction into a right emotional result, and so into easy, happy, and good living - well, that's not only the neurotic's problem, it's the problem of life itself for all of us who have got to the point of real willingness to hew to the right principles in all our affairs."

"My basic flaw," Bill confesses, "had always been dependence - almost absoulute dependence - on people or circumstances to supply me with prestige, security and the like. Failing to get these things according to my perfectionist dreams and specifications, I had fought for them. And when defeat came, so did my depression."

Our stories, "before and after," we repeatedly hear in the "How It Works" reading, makes clear the idea that "we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives." I have found that my dependence on being able to manage my life so that I received what I thought I needed as far as security, love and social standing with my fellows turned out, as it did for Bill, to end in crushing disappointments and the very real, grave and life-threatening onset of depression. However, when I have truly surrendered the management of life to the source that already controls it - surrendered life to life itself - I have found that my dependencies and my depression recede, and that I have those precious commodities I need to sustain me, the experience of a loving God-consciousness and the serenity of emotional sobriety.

This is not to say that the alcoholic addict who suffers or suspects he or she may suffer from depression should not see a medical professional. Quite the contrary. AA has "no opinion" on that issue, as is noted in "The A.A, Member and Other Medications," pamphlet. However, it must also be noted that our experience (as set out in the pamphlet) is that if a person requires medication and is not taking that medication, this may prevent him or her from having the spiritual awakening that is necessary to arrest his or her active addiction.

That being said, Bill notes that he found the beginning of a solution to his grave emotional problem with depression in realizing he could not be both dependent on others and reliant upon God to meet his true needs:

"Plainly," he observes, "I could not avail myself of God's love until I was able to offer it back to him by loving others as he would have me. And I couldn't possibly do that so long as I was victimized by false dependencies."

"For my dependency meant demand - a demand for the possession and control of the people and the conditions surrounding me."

In my instance, the problem and the results were the same. With the aid of appropriate medication (carefully prescribed and monitored by my doctor), and the admixture of the "self-examination, meditation and prayer," that was similarly recommended to me, I can truly let go of my dependency for people to conform with my ideas of how life should be 'managed,' and accede to the way that God manages life - all of life - and always has.

Of course, as it is recognized, I first had to be honest and willing to face the reality of how I had I subtly tried to manage life myself. This was the honesty and humility I needed to cope with depresssion - a "grave mental and emotional disorder" which can be overcome if I manifest my God-given capacity to be honest with myself.

The "Still Suffering" Alcoholic

I did not attend meetings or belong to A.A. for nearly five years during my "recovery." Hence I picked up a five-year medallion and a fifteen-year medallion, but no ten-year medallion. The results were enormous suffering for my wife, my children, my extended family, employer and friends, and me.

An influential man from my early sobriety ended this "spiritual drought" by reaching out to me and taking me to my first meeting in nearly five years. Synchronisticly, the meeting was in my old home town and I knew the speaker. However, she was not from that town, nor had I known her when I had been attending meetings regularly. She was the sponsor of one of my then wife's remaining AA friends, and I had met her twice during my prolonged dry spell through this mutual friend.

"Sandy" got up to the podium to speak, but could not. I never did find out what the trouble was that she was going through that evening, but she could not begin her talk. She could only cry. After about five minutes, and after being given the opportunity to pass on giving the evening talk, she finally got it together enough to begin. I will never forget what she said.

Sparingly, and through muffled pain, she said, "When the newcomer comes through these doors, I am responsible and I want the hand of AA to be there. For that I'm responsible. But you can be three months, or three years . . . or thirty years sober and still suffer. And when that happens I want, I need the hand of A.A. to be there."

An electric jolt literally went up my spine. It was a phenomenon I cannot explain, but her words touched me in a way that was unique. Like her, like the newcomer, I was in the grips of very deep and very grave suffering. But, I have learned since then that at any point in time I am either recovering or relapsing, I am either growing spiritually or suffering. And today, I know the choice is mine. Carlos Castenada's spiritual teacher, the nagual Don Juan, told him, "We either make ourselves strong, or we  make ourselves miserable. The amount of effort is the same."

Over the next three-and-a-half years, I worked with an old-timer who took me back through the Big Book and the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, and together we walked a long way along our spiritual paths. The old-timer was slowly dieing, however, and I watched as his one leg was amputated, and then amputated a second time above the knee. And I was at his bedside all through his final battle with lung cancer. And all through our spiritual journey, he would tell me over and over, "For us, the process of gaining a new perspective (is) unbelievably painful."

The words are from Step Seven of the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (at page 72), but my friend was not talking about the physical pain. He was talking to the unbelievable pain that comes from first facing and then facing down our egos, and the fears, shame, regret and remorse that our egoic self-consciousness brings up time after time.

I can still hear the deep Scottish brogue coming from the withered little, one-legged Scotsman. "Unbelievably painful," he would say, "not mildly painful, not irritating . . . unbelievably painful!"

Step Seven in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions has a lot to say about the "still suffering" alcoholic in sobriety.

"For us," it reads, "the process of gaining a new perspective was unbelievably painful. It was only by repeated humiliations that we were forced to learn something about humility. It was only at the end of a long road, marked by successive defeats and humiliations, and the final crushing of self-sufficiency, that we began to feel humility as something more than a condition of grovelling despair."

Humility is, in fact as well as in word, the most natural state of simply being "human." The words are closely related and have the same Greek root, humus, meaning 'ground.' We are, it turns out, just small parts of the Ground of Being. And, "(w)here humility formerly stood for a forced feeding on humble pie, it now (begins) to mean" we read, "the nourishing ingredient which can give us serenity."

The definition of "humility" that Doctor Bob kept on a plaque on his desk reads:

Dr. Bob (1879 -1950)

HUMILITY

Perpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble, It is never to be fretted or vexed, irritable or sore; to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me.

It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised, it is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and pray to my Father in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is seeming trouble.

"This improved perception of humility starts another revolutionary change in our outlook," the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions tells us, at page 74. "Our eyes begin to open to the immense values which have come straight out of painful ego-puncturing."

Again, with the "painful" experience of facing and facing down our smaller "self," the human ego!

It wasn't until many months after we buried my friend, however, that the full import of his warning that dying to 'self' is "unbelievably painful" struck home. There, at the back of Bill's essay on Step Seven, he writes:

"We saw we needn't always be bludgeoned into humility. It could come quite as much from our voluntary reaching for it as it could from unremitting suffering. A great turning point in our lives 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 implication of Step Seven: Humbly asked him to remove our shortcomings."

[Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 75. Emphasis added.]

Thus, we have a choice. We can either make our true "inner selves" strong by humbly facing down the  fears, worries and desires of the small 'self,' or we can hold onto our old, egoic attitude and it's old ideas and "make ourselves miserable." The amount of effort is the same.

When my acquaintance could not begin her talk, it was because she was going through the "unbelievably painful" process of letting go of the ego's story about whatever was "wrong" at that time. I wouldn't come to know for several years thereafter the true meaning and desirability of humility. Just as being honest means that I never have to remember "the story;" so the availability of true humility means I have the choice to pay attention to, or remember the ego, and its unbelievably painful "old ideas," or I can let "it" and "them" go. And, it is in this "letting go" of the ego and its stories, that God removes my defects of character and the "unremitting suffering" that accompany them. This. I believe, is the essence of the AA slogan, "Let Go and Let God."

"Humility Consists in Having a Perfectly Open Mind"

"Honesty" = We don't have to remember the "stories" we've told.
"Humility" = We don't have to remember the "roles" we've played.

Greek "Tragedy" and "Comedy" Masks
(Note the grapevines on "Comedy.")

The analogy of the alcoholic addict as an 'actor' is an effective one. Like all good metaphors and analogies, it works because there is so much truth in it. With a continually humble attitude - true 'humility' - we move from being "the actor" always trying to hit a "mark" we've imagined, and to "deliver the lines" we imagine we need to, so that life will turn out good for everyone - even ourselves.

We can, however, if we stay humble, move from being stage-frightened actors to comedians joyfully ad-libbing our way through life one day at a time, confident that the whole life process - the whole "show" - is in the hands of a manager/director infinitely more capable than we are of running things on our own resources.  No more "scripts" to remember; no more "roles" to rehearse; no more "characters" to play. (It is no coincidence that the ancient Greek word for an "actor" was "hypokrite.")

Paul Brunton (1898-1981 )

Yet, true humility is difficult for all of us - alcoholic addict and so-called 'normal person,' alike. As the philosopher, Paul Brunton, observed:

"The average man is not humble; he may appear to be so, but inwardly he sets up mental resistance and barriers, and builds walls of prejudice against truth. Humility consists in having a perfectly open mind, as though you were new-born, and being able to receive with complete faith not only the words of those who know, but what is still more important, that which is behind the words which is Spirit."

It is, of course, a great challenge - some might call it, life's greatest challenge - to keep a perfectly open mind. As with so many other challenges in our program, we aim at perfection while knowing that we will consistently fall short. But recovery is found in our attempt to reach perfection.

But how many newcomers (or old-timers, for that matter) would interpret humility as "keeping an open mind"? Few, I would suspect. That would not only have never  occurred to me. I suspect that I would have argued vociferously against such an interpretation, just as I argued (if silently) against all spiritual axioms and principles. Yet, this is indeed, what humility means; an open mind, free of the wholly "self" conscious "stream of thought."

On Dr. Bob's desk in his Akron, Ohio home, I am told there is a plaque bearing the words which to him best described what true "humility" is. It reads:

Dr. Bob (1878-1950)

HUMILITY

Perpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble, It is never to be fretted or vexed, irritable or sore; to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me.

It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised, it is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and pray to my Father in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is seeming trouble.

But how to keep this "open mind;" how to find this "blessed home" in oneself? This is exactly what the 12 Steps are designed to open up and maintain. But first we must get rid of our "old ideas" and "old attitudes," or the habitual way we have learned to think and perceive the world.

Remember, in "How It Works," we read that "some of us tried to hold onto our old ideas, but the result was nil until we let go absolutely." That, it was pointed out to me, is the only "absolute" in the first 164 pages of the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. Old ideas, can quickly and easily cloud one's "open mind," and thus, irrespective of length of sobriety, rob the then-suffering alcoholic addict of all humility and "quietness of heart."

Steps One and Three: Honesty and Humility

We often do not talk about humility until we get to Step 7 - "Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.) Yet,  I have learned through hard fought experience that humility, just as much as honesty, is an essential element to practice Step 1 to the best of my ability.

We often hear that, "The First Step is the only step you can do 100 percent." Well, yes and no. In his essay on Step 6 in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, Bill writes that the only step we can practice one hundred percent is Step One, and we do that by "not taking that first drink." Note, however, that here he makes no reference to the second part of the First Step, the admission that our lives have become unmanageable. The continuous realization of this unmanageability is an exercise in humility that few, if any, can manifest one hundred percent of the time.

One of the first lessons I grasped coming into the AA fellowship was that, "Being honest means you don't have to remember your stories." I was rife with stories and explanations of just who I was, what I had done, and what I could do, all in a vain attempt to fit myself comfortably in with my fellow beings. I quickly learned that I was accepted and welcomed for who I am, and that the stories I spun were unnecessary fo fit in with my sponsor and my newfound friends. I quickly integrated that honesty into the other relationships in my life, those at work, at home and in the community.

It was quite a few years, however, before I realized for myself that, "Humility means I do not have to remember who to be." The analogy of the alcoholic addict as an "actor" is, at least for me, a metaphor that strikes home. I used to present one persona to my friends, another persona to my family, a third persona to my wife and kids, a fourth persona at work etc., always pretending to be some version of the "me" that would fit in with others, and so soothe what Bill identified as those horrible feelings of "anxious apartness." Replacing anxiety with frivolity and a sense of well being, and replacing that sense of apartness with a sense of unity and comeradery with my fellow partiers was, of course, one of the principal drivers of my addiction. The problem of the alcoholic truly centers in the mind.

In the first section of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA's primary text, a.k.a., the "Big Book"), there is discussion of three illusions and/or delusions (things which we really think are or may be true, but which aren't; i.e., lies which we tell ourselves and which we then believe) . Dispelling these delusions is essential for long-term recovery and and contentment in life. The first two of these illusions/delusions are found in the first two paragraphs of the chapter, "More About Alcoholism," while the last delusion is found at the end of the "alcoholic as actor" discussion in the "How It Works" chapter.


Bill Wilson was an old-school writer. When asked what the difference was between a "defect of character" and a "shortcoming," he said there was no difference at all, he just didn't like to end two sentences in a row with the same word. Another "old-school" composition guideline you will notice he sticks too in his writing is the basic rule of, "one thought, one paragraph."


Thus, when he writes in the first paragraph of "More About Alcoholism" that the suffer must get over "the great illusion" of every alcoholic addict, that one day he will again "be able to control and enjoy his drinking," that is exactly one idea. There is no other path to sobriety but through abstinence, for when one crosses the line into alcoholic addiction, there is no going back to the "controlled" drinking of prior years. Getting rid of this "great illusion" requires an honest admission (and acceptance) of a truth: You might think you can 'control' your drinking, but you surely won't enjoy it. Or, you might 'enjoy' some more 'uncontrollable' drinking, but not for long. Either way, such attempts lead almost invariably to one of three places - jails, mental institutions or death. This is, in essence, the sum of the first illusion/delusion Bill sets out in the Big Book. It requires inner honesty of the fact you are an alcoholic addict to shatter this first illusion

Bill Wilson, A.A. Co-Founder

New paragraph; new idea. In the second paragraph of "More About Alcoholism," Bill writes that alcoholics must "smash the delusion that we are like other people, or one day will be." The reason? Not because of alcohol, which has been renounced, but due the overly obsessive nature of a "self-centered" mind honed by years of addictive behaviour.


More so than other so-called "normal" individuals, the overly obsessive nature of the alcoholic's ordinary 'stream of thought,' self-conscious narrative, or 'ego' - what Bill describes elsewhere as a "painful inner dialogue" - causes profound emotional disturbance. Such mental and emotional unrest, left unchecked,  can compel the alcoholic to act in any number of seemingly bizarre ways, the most bizarre (yet common) reaction being to pick up a drink of the alcohol that is slowly killing him or her.

"Other people" relieve the emotional turmoil caused by their ordinary egoic thinking in an endless variety of ways - overworking, vegetating in front of a television, losing themselves in exercise or their hobbies, perhaps in passing fits of anger and aggressive behaviour, perhaps in coaching kids' sports, or a perhaps in a mania for shopping - alcoholic addicts relieve such emotional excess by drinking and using drugs to shut down their thinking and the emotional turmoil it causes.

 Ordinary non-alcoholics, thus, have a variety of means, more or less healthy, to cope with their inability to manage their lives and the circumstances life presents while getting along in society. The alcoholic addict, on the other hand, deprived of his or her chemical sustenance, has no clear means of gaining comfort and fitting in with others. "Self-centered to the extreme," the alcoholic tries any number of behaviours, and adopts any number of personae, as a means of getting a seemingly existential pressure off him or herself; a pressure that is brought on by trying to manage the world and its inhabitants so that life brings him peace, comfort and what he or she thinks they need.

But life itself is inherently "unmanageable." Billions of years of evolution have brought humanity to the point where we think we should be able to manage life, and yet life still remains inherently unmanageable despite all our efforts. While non-alcoholic, "normal" people can (perhaps) afford to bang away at life, trying to bend it to their will with results that are more or less painful when such efforts inevitably fail,  the alcoholic addict cannot. Alcoholic addicts will almost invariably return to chemical addiction if they continue to bluff their way through life, adopting various tactics and roles in a vain effort to manage their world and, by extension, all of the people and things which constitute the world. "The delusion that we are like other people, or one day will be, must be smashed." Humility, and an admission that (a) that we are alcoholics and (b) that our lives are unmanageable - both before and after our active addiction, and despite all of our great exertions to do so - are thus essential to overcoming the first two of these delusionary barriers to sobriety.

Unlike "other people," an honest and humble admission and acceptance of personal powerlessness to manage life itself is necessary for continuous and contented sobriety. In that way, we will always differ from the ordinary human sufferer; therefore, we must seek a power greater than our ordinary "selves" - greater than our individual egoic thinking - to rely on in order to assist us through an unpredictable and unmanageable world. This is a humbling process that cannot be avoided, and resistance to it is very painful and potentially lethal.

This brings us to the third and last delusion that the alcoholic must give up: the delusion that he can (or needs to) manage life. Bill describes the alcoholic addict to "an actor" tearing through life, forever rearranging the lighting and forever rewriting the script, vacillating from kindness and pleasantrty to anger and brutality in order to get his way - certain that the results will be good for everone, even himself. Bill's actor metaphor quite clearly captures the alcoholic addict's greatest delusion: that he and he alone - through sheer determination, relentlessness and willpower - can sustain and keep his life both manageable and successfully integrated with the world around him.

"Is our actor," Bill writes, "not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this life if he only manages well?" One of the first lessons I was taught in AA, is that, "If you are honest you don't have to remember the story." A lesson it took me a long time to learn, typically taking a tough slog through suffering to do so, is that, "If you are humble, you don't have to remember who you are supposed to be, or what needs to be done next."

Life unfolds at its own pace and it is always on time. There is no emergency that requires me to try and wrest control of life from the forces, energy and cultural ideas that have evolved over billions of years. Humility keeps me from grabbing life's steering wheel, desperate that life's course run this way or that, and so that it will be good for everyone - even me. I have learned that it is far better to be myself and accept life on life's terms, than it is to try and be someone or thing I am not in a useless and painful attempt to bend life to my terms. Humility, as well as honesty, is required to do so.