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.

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.""

Examining the "Harms" Caused to Others

"We might next ask ourselves what we mean when we say that we have "harmed" other people. What kinds of "harm" do people do to one another, anyway? To define the word "harm" in a practical way, we might call it the result of instincts in collision, which cause physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual damage to people. If our tempers are consistently bad, we arouse anger in others. If we lie or cheat, we deprive others not only of their worldly goods, but of their emotional security and peace of mind. We really issue them an invitation to become contemptuous and vengeful. If our sex conduct is selfish, we may excite jealousy, misery, and a strong desire to retaliate in kind."

"Such gross misbehavior is not by any means a full catalogue of the harms we do. Let us think of some of the subtler ones which can sometimes be quite as damaging. Suppose that in our family we happen to be miserly, irresponsible, callous, or cold. Suppose that we are irritable, critical, impatient and humorless. Suppose we lavish attention upon one member of the family and neglect the others. What happens when we try to dominate the whole family by a rule of iron or by a constant outpouring of minute directions for just how their lives should be lived from hour to hour? Such a roster of harms done others - the kind that make daily living with us as practicing alcoholics difficult and often unbearable - could be extended almost indefinitely. When we take such personality traits as these into the shop, office, and the society of our fellows, they can do damage almost as extensive as that we have caused at home."

-- The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pages 80-81 --

 In Step Four (in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions) Bill W. notes that our "desires" or "instincts" - for sex, for material and emotional security, and for companionship - may "far exceed their proper functions." Again, in Step Six he observes that, "(n)o matter how far we have progressed, desires will always be found which oppose the grace of God." Then, in Step Eight, he observes that the "harms" we have caused others are the product of "instincts in collision." For recovery and true emotional sobriety, it is thus necessary for us to examine such instincts - irrespective of how gross or subtle they may be - and make our amends for the instances and circumstances in which our instincts have driven us blindly, resulting in the "harms" we have caused to others.

It is relatively easy to examine our grosser instinctual missteps, the remembrance of which gives us the moral shudders. "How could I have done that?" we wonder, as we recall such instances with a mixture of regret, embarrassment and remorse. It is these instances that, perhaps, formed the bulk of our initial Fourth Step inventory. Examination of the subtler harms we have caused - at least for this alcoholic addict - prove the harder to recognize, face and amend. The fine line between the legitimate protection of those we love and care for and the selfish instinct to control and manage our lives by controlling the actions of those closest to us is indeed subtle. ("Mastery of life," one spiritual teacher observed, "is the opposite of control.")

For example, controlling others through an outburst of anger is both memorable for its intensity and eminently regrettable, while controlling others through our over-weaning anxieties is much more easily overlooked. Yet both these instinctual drives must be overcome if we are to effectively turn our will and our lives over to the care of our Higher Power and, more particularly, if we are to leave it there! And just as it seems that our coarser defects of character are easier to spot and overcome, so our subtler defects seem to be all the more difficult to weed out.

Thus, even when we have made our initial amends, we must take a daily look at our character defects, paying careful attention to subtler manifestations of our self-centered instincts. These subtle shortcomings may seem to be dangerously innocuous when compared, to say, an ugly outburst of anger or a brooding resentment over the actions of others.

"Our basic troubles are the same as everyone else's," Bill points out, "but when an honest effort is made "to practice these principles in all our affairs," well-grounded A.A.'s seem to have the ability by God's grace, to take these troubles in stride and turn them into demonstrations of faith."

"Like most people," he observes, "we have found that we can take our big lumps as they come. But also like others, we often discover a greater challenge in the lesser and more continuous problems of life. Our answer," he notes, "is still more spiritual development."

"Only by this means," he points out, "can we improve our chances for really happy and useful living. And as we grow spiritually, we find that our old attitudes toward our instincts need to undergo drastic revisions."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 114.]

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.

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.

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."

Character Defects: "The Seven Deadly Sins"

As at best an agnostic by natural temperament, I was taken aback (as I suppose many others were) when I first read the characterization of my defects of character as "sins" in Step Four of The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. Not surprisingly, of course, my objection was one that had been anticipated by Bill W.

With foresight in writing the Step Four essay, Bill presciently observed that "(s)ome will become quite annoyed if there is talk about immorality, let alone sin. But," he reasoned, "all who are in the least reasonable will agree upon one point: that there is plenty wrong with us alcoholics about which plenty will have to be done if we are to expect sobriety, progress and any real ability to cope with life."

Thus, in writing the Step Four essay he settled on the "the Seven Deadly Sins of pride, greed, lust, anger, gluttony, envy and sloth" as "a universally recognized list of major human failings" that could be used as a yardstick by which we could measure our "shortcomings." (Bill observed elsewhere that there was no distinction in meaning between "character defects" and "shortcomings," stating simply that he did not like to have adjoining sentences ending with the same words.)

Meanwhile, I remained quietly and silently opposed to this characterization of my "shortcomings" as "sins" until it was explained to me by an old-timer, who unbeknownst to me was a retired nun with a Ph.D., that the word "sin" had its origin as a term of art in archery, denoting when an archer missed his target. Thus, when I was beset with one or more of these "deadly sins," it was explained to me, it was a most definite indication that my thoughts rather more than my morals were askew.

Later, in reading "The Gnostic Gospels," by acclaimed biblical historian, Elaine Pagels, I came across the following explanation:

"The New Testament term for sin, hamartia," she notes, "comes from the sport of archery; literally, it means "missing the mark." New Testament sources teach that we suffer distress, mental and physical, because we fail to achieve the moral goal toward which we aim: "all have sinned, and fall short of the Glory of God." (Romans 3:23).

 Thus, when prideful, greedy, angry, etc., it is a clear indication that once again I have lapsed into and identified with my egoic, "self-consciousness." My thinking, centered in "self" or ego, has once again "missed the mark," so to speak.

Note, however, that these "Seven Deadly Sins" are all associated with feelings, emotions and sentiments, rather than with thinking per se. One doesn't think angry, one has thoughts that arouse feelings of anger, which is a subtle but important point.

When entertaining a resentment (which is just the manifestation of a lasting anger), for example, one thinks again of the person or situation that angered him or her in the first place and then re-experiences the same feelings, emotions or sentiments that were aroused before. (Thus, resentment is a re-experiencing or 're-sentiment' of old feelings sparked by entertaining one's old ideas or thoughts.) Similarly, when thinking about how much better or less one is compared to others, one feels pride; when thinking how much one wants something he or she lacks, one feels greedy, etc.

An even more subtle tool for examining our character defects, and one that goes further in helping us understand the root cause of why our thinking "misses the mark," is the list of "the Nine Capital Sins" (sometimes referred to as "the Enneagram") that are compiled in Fr. Richard Rohr's book, "The Naked Now." These consist of:

(1)  The need to be right.
(2)  The need to be needed.
(3)  The need to be successful.
(4)  The need to be special.
(5)  The need to perceive.
(6)  The need to protect self.
(7)  The need to avoid pain.
(8)  The need to be against.
(9)  The need to avoid.

Each of these can breed a fear that the particular "need" will not be fulfilled, thus threatening the ego; and such self-centered fears - "primarily fear that we would lose something we already possessed or would fail to get something we demanded" - are, we know, "the chief activators of our defects."

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

Three Delsuions: Control, Normalcy and Manageability

"'Denial,'" I've heard it said, "is a treatment center word, while 'delusion' is what we talk about in Alcoholics Anonymous." The reason for this is quite clear: denial is saying, to one's self or someone else, what one knows not to be true; while 'delusion' means saying that something that is not true is true - and believing, in fact, that it is. In most instances, therefore, the still practicing alcoholic addict is not 'in denial', but is 'delusional.' He or she really believes that he or she is not an alcoholic addict.

I remember that I used to say do the guys I partied with, "For me its recreational, for you it's therapeutic." How wrong I was, and I had no idea! I was clearly delusional when it came to my addiction. And it was only after being in recovery for a number of years, that I began to realize that this was not the only area of my life where I was completely delusional. My whole life, I came to realize, was nothing but an illusion.

There are three delusions (or illusions) that the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous specifically addresses. The first two 'delusions' are discussed at the beginning of the "More About Alcoholism," while the third (and all important) 'delusion' is discussed following the description of the alcoholic addict as an "actor," in the "How It Works" chapter of the 'Big Book.'

At the beginning of the "More About Alcoholism" chapter, the first of these 'delusions' is set out in the following way:

"The idea that somehow, someday he will control and enjoy his drinking is the great obsession of every abnormal drinker. The persistence of this illusion is astonishing. Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death."

In the next paragraph, we read that, "(t)he delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed." This is the second of the three 'delusions.'

Finally, after the description of the alcoholic as "actor," on pages 60-61 of the 'Big Book,' we are asked:

"What is (the alcoholic's) 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 world if he only manages well?"

[Emphasis added.]

All of the 'three delusions' speak to Step One of AA's program of recovery. The first 'delusion' speaks to the first part of Step One, where we admit we are "powerless over alcohol," while the second and third 'delusions' speak to life's unmanageability.

Because, both physically and mentally, we are "powerless over alcohol" - because we simply metabolize it differently than does the non-alcoholic -  it is a delusion that one day we will somehow be able to control and enjoy drinking once again (if we ever had any control in the first place), even though we may well believe it to be true. It is a delusion.

Carl Jung
(1875-1961)

While the second 'delusion - "that we are like other people, or presently may be" - seems on its face to be related to both alcoholism and the first delusion, in essence, it is not. It is much more related to the self-centered, ego-centric, nature of the alcoholic addict's personality.

It is because we are not like other people (or perhaps that we are just like other people, only "way more so') that Carl Jung observed that wholesale psychic changes "in the nature of huge emotional displacements and rearrangements" are necessary for alcoholics to attain and maintain their sobriety.

Commenting on the nature of these "phenomena" that supplied the required psychic change necessary to arrest alcoholism, Jung observed that: "Ideas, emotions and attitudes that were once the guiding forces of the lives of these men are suddenly cast to one side, and a completely new set of conceptions and motives begin to dominate them."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 27.]

"Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking and self-pity," we are not, nor will we one day be just like other people. It is necessary for the alcoholic addict to concede this and set the fears and delusions of the alcoholic mind to one side before he or she can truly recover.

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 62.]

Which brings us to the third delusion. The basic problem of the problem being egoic, self-centeredness, we claim a right and a necessary imperative to manage life - and manage life all by ourselves. And that is the great delusion, really. Life is inherently unmanageable by the individual, precisely because he or she is an individual - a part of a greater whole.

Life manages itself quite well, irrespective of our input and desires, all of which are driven by what it is we think we (or others) need to be happy and content. And, until we can fully concede that no matter how hard we try we will never be able to "wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world" simply by managing well, we are not really in a position to believe that "a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity" - and, moreover, we are in no position to "turn our will and our lives over to the care" of such a Power.

And here's the kicker, until we concede that is delusional, in fact, to think we can somehow learn to 'manage life,' we will never be in a position to understand who we are, what we are, and what life is all about. Until we do so, we remain ever vulnerable to drink and drug; and, if long experience is valid, it seems very likely that the person who retains management rights over life will almost invariably do so.

Surrender Part I: Surrendering Old Ideas

"Some of us have tried to hold onto our 
  old ideas and the result was nil until
  we let go absolutely." ('Big Book' p. 58)

Recovery from alcoholic addiction begins with surrender - letting go of the bottle and our old ideas of how we should live our lives, admitting that we are powerless over our addiction, and that life on the grand scale (and in the minutest detail) is, in fact, inherently unmanageable. Thus, it is no coincidence that the very first concept that Bill W. discusses in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions is that of surrender. "Who," he asks, "cares to admit complete defeat?."

We are told in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous (at page 84) that we have "ceased fighting everyone and everything - even alcohol." But is that true for us? The "fight or flight" response is perhaps a human's deepest instinctive drive, and is far more basic than even his or her sexual instincts. It represents survival or 'being' itself.

In the "How it Works" passage that is used to open so many meetings, we hear time and again that "some of us . . . tried to hold onto our old ideas," in fact, "and the result was nil until we let go (of those old ideas) absolutely." Nil, nada, nothing! Nothing changes until we become willing to try and let go of old ideas - all of them - without reservation, and that is a tall order.

But nobody said that complete surrender would be easy, nor did anyone say that we would ever be rid of our old thoughts and thought patterns completely. Rather, we try and rid ourselves of the old ideas and thought patterns instead of holding on to them.

Our "ambition," which is discussed in the closing paragraphs of Step 12 in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, is to attain and maintain a conscious contact with the God of our own understanding in order that the "(i)deas, emotions and attitudes" which were once the "guiding forces" of our lives can be "cast aside" in favour of "new motivations and conceptions." ('Big Book,' page 27.) To establish such a 'conscious' contact we must clear our mind of that which already fills our 'consciousness,' i.e., our "old ideas."

But just how do we surrender our old ideas? In order to "practice" Step Three, as it is set out in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, we are told that in all times of emotional disturbance and indecision, we can simply "pause, ask for quiet, and in the stillness" recite and contemplate the words of the Serenity Prayer. Yet, while this is critical for times of great turmoil and challenges, how do we practice letting go of old ideas in the mundane moment-to-moment affairs of our daily lives? This is a more subtle question, yet the answer may, in fact, be more crucial for our attaining true peace of mind and the sanity necessary to establish and maintain permanent sobriety and a contented, purposeful life.

In their subtler aspects, Steps One through Step Three are all about responding to life on a different plane of thought than we are used to rather than reacting to life as it is thrown at us. To do this, we need to develop the capacity (through AA's process of interwoven "self-examination, meditation and prayer") to refrain from all actions, at least for a moment, in order to realize that the thoughts coursing through our minds are not 'who' we really are, and that they are definitely not our allies in trying to bend life to how we think we want it to go.

We need to surrender to the facts (i) that  life is inherently unmanageable by any one individual, (ii) that it evolves quite well enough without our grasping for control over it,  and (iii) that we are not our thoughts themselves, but rather the quiet, simple observer of those thoughts. If one is able to surrender one's thoughts and his or her identification with them, one then becomes capable of making peace with both the world,  and with one's true 'Self' which lies beyond the false duality which is mentally manufactured by the small 'self' of the human ego.

REMEMBER: We are not here to bend the world to our own narrow will. Rather we must demonstrate a deep and abiding faith in the infallible rightness of the course of events.

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.