Perils, Pitfalls & Promise of the "Twelve & Twelve"

A.A. Co-Founder, Bill W.

In a letter dated October 5, 1953, A.A. co-founder and author, Bill W., wrote of the expectations he had for the newly-penned 'Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions'. "At first," he observed, "I was dubious whether anyone would care for it, save oldtimers who had begun to run into life's lumps in areas other than alcohol. But apparently, the book is being used to good effect even upon newcomers." ('Pass It On', at page 356.)

Of course, many in A.A. nowadays hold fast to the notion that the Twelve and Twelve is ruinous to A.A., and/or that its use, particularly its exclusive use, with newcomers is perilous to their prospects of attaining and maintaining sobriety. To my mind, and in my experience, such A.A. "fundamentalists" or "Big Book Thumpers" are right . . . but only partially right. Along with the perils and pitfalls that the Twelve and Twelve can present to overly-reliant newcomers, the book holds great promise and practical spiritual wisdom for the more seasoned alcoholic addict in recovery when he or she is presented with life's inevitable challenges.

In words that have quite literally saved the lives of millions of alcoholic addicts, and in a manner that the reader can use to see if he or she is alcoholic, the 'Big Book' ('Alcoholics Anonymous') clearly sets out the physical and mental aspects of the disease, a spiritual solution to this primarily mental illness, and a process of steps that can (and are) used to effect a spiritual solution to the malady. I know of few, if any, members with long-term sobriety that would start a newcomer off without going through the 'Big Book.' The methodology for working through the 12 Steps is invaluable, particularly the concise directions for getting through Steps 4 through Step Nine (a.s.a.p.) and, thereby, initiating a process of spiritual awakening that promises to arrest and alleviate the effects of the disease. Likewise, I know few (if any) old-timers who do not, or have not, benefited from what is laid out in the Twelve and Twelve.

My experiences with the 'Big Book' and the 'Twelve and Twelve' over several decades have been decidedly mixed, as I suspect the experience of many others probably have been.

In my case, by happenstance and misleading advertising, the first group I joined was a Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions group. (It was announced that February was "membership month" and that the group still had several "openings" which were available. Knowing nothing of A.A. - or recovery, for that matter - and being but a few weeks sober, I thought I had better grab one of those openings before I was shut out.) I stayed with that group, maintaining my sobriety without relapse, for over five years, until I left to help start up another group and, shortly thereafter, to move to another city. In that time, week after week, we would go through the Steps, one after another in relentless fashion.  I remember nothing of what I shared, and now shudderingly marvel that there was anything of value I could have shared!

I learned but little about the true nature of my disease, but much about how to stay sober in that time. Additionally, I read the 'Big Book' cover to cover, as suggested, but little sank in, due not to the message in the book but to the prejudice and contempt I had for all things spiritual or, somehow, 'Godly.' (Not that I wouldn't participate in the Serenity Prayer, Lord's Prayer etc., and not that I didn't read my daily meditations from the 'Twenty Four Hours a Day' book, or 'Daily Reflections' when it came out. I would grudgingly do the little I was told to do, but only that much!)

During that time I was, however, taken through the Steps both by my sponsor and then by a relative "oldtimer" within my group utilizing the 'Big Book.' I listed my resentments and fears, inventoried my sex conduct, made the list, made amends etc., and it was beneficial - to me, my family, and my employer, etc. - yet I failed to grasp the key understanding that my life in sobriety had become and continued to be "unmanageable." (See page 61.) Thus, I was handicapped from the start in my ability to "enlarge" my spiritual being.

Sobering up at age 28 in the late-Eighties, I was one of the younger members of A.A. in my area. I therefore took much false solace in the Twelve and Twelve's description of the younger "alcoholics who still had their health, their families, (and) their jobs," etc. I was mightily relieved to read that I had been "spared that last ten or fifteen years of literal hell (other A.A.s) had gone through." (Little did I know, or suspect, that years of "figurative hell" were to come.) Reading through the rest of that paragraph in the Twelve and Twelve's first chapter, I utterly failed to grasp the meaning or importance of the following question:

"Since Step One requires an admission that our lives have become unmanageable, how could such people as these take this Step?

That is a great question, indeed. For my part, and to myself alone, I saw Step One as: "Admitting that I was powerless over alcohol (and other drugs) and that my life had (potentially) become unmanageable (if I ever drank or drugged again)." Keeping all the parts in brackets to myself, I marched on in sobriety, determined to get "Good Orderly Direction" in my life. For the next five years, I relied on my Twelve and Twelve meeting, my sponsor, and thereafter on the fellowship of AA to stay sober. (This worked for me to the limited extent that I stayed straight, but I adamantly warn off others who would try it this way. I've seen too many fatalities via this route.)

Just shy of 10 years sobriety, having completed a university education and graduate school, with a wife now sober, and with two small girls - one of them named for my first sponsor - I started a job as a newly-minted professional in a new city. The days and weeks were very long, life seemed manageable, and I made a conscious decision to stop attending A.A. in order to spend what little time was left over with my wife and kids.

Little did I know that the five years after that fateful decision would be an at-first slow descent into madness, a madness in which I finally lost marriage, family, career, house and my mind. Just as the oldtimers had warned me, all those things that I had put in front of my sobriety I had lost. Beaten by life and this disease, obsessing over escape from a painful and seemingly hopeless life via the bottle, I was brought back to A.A. and to a wise and loving sponsor who took me back through the Steps. The 'Big Book' was read and explained to me. Re-doing the Steps with a new understanding, I experienced the spiritual release that is available through our program of action. My mind was opened, and with the help of several spiritual mentors, day-by-day I began - with several epiphanies along the way - to grow spiritually.

Interestingly, not only had the import and significance of the 'Big Book' - its application to my life and circumstances - soared, but the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions had also become inextricably important to my growth in spirit and consciousness. With fifteen years clean and sober - most of it being "stark, raving sobriety" - I had become one of those whom Bill so mildly puts it "had begun to run into life's lumps in areas other than alcohol."

There are, indeed, perils and pitfalls along the way if one ignores the 'Big Book' in favour, grudgingly, of the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, as I did. Some seem to avoid the mistakes that are so often made. I did not. But having survived these perils and pitfalls, I know that the Twelve and Twelve, holds much promise for further growth, written as it is for those who have already completed the 12 Steps as outlined in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous.

My closest spiritual mentor, a profoundly dedicated man with 35 years of sobriety at the time, often stressed that having taken the Steps and having recovered from the hopeless state of alcoholism - wet or dry - it is imperative that one incorporates Step Three, Step Seven and Step Eleven into one's daily life; relying on Step Ten where we screw up, and utilizing Step Twelve in carrying the message where we can. It is here, and in this process, that the experience of Bill's years of sobriety, as set out in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, becomes so important. Indeed, I find it is needlessly hard, if not impossible, to practice these Steps without the various spiritual nuggets of wisdom he shares there.

Consider, as examples, the following passages from the essays on Steps Three, Seven and Eleven:

• "Our whole problem had been the misuse of willpower. We had tried to bombard our problems with it instead of attempting to bring it into agreement with God's intention for us. To make this increasingly possible is the purpose of A.A.'s Twelve Steps, and Step Three opens the door."
  
  "Once we have come into agreement with these ideas, it is really easy to begin the practice of Step Three. In all times of emotional disturbance or indecision, we can pause, ask for quiet, and in the stillness simply say: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Thy will, not mine, be done."" (Step Three, pp. 40-41. Emphasis added.)

• "For us, the 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 grovelling despair. . . . The admission of powerlessness over alcohol . . . is but the barest beginning. To get completely away from our aversion to the idea of being humble, to gain a vision of humility as the avenue to true freedom of the human spirit, to be willing to work for humility as some thing to be desired for itself, takes most of us a long, long time."
  
  "We saw that 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. 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 see the full implication of Step Seven: "Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings."" (Step Seven, pp. 72-73, 75.)

• "There is a direct linkage among self-examination, meditation and prayer. Taken separately, these practices bring much relief and benefit. But when they are logically related and interwoven, the result is an unshakeable foundation for life. Now and then we may be granted a glimpse of that ultimate reality which is God's Kingdom." (Step Eleven, p. 98.)

 As it says in 'Pass It On' (at page 352):

"If (the) 'Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions' is a small volume in terms of length, it is large in its depth and content. Whereas the Big Book, written in 1938, radiates Bill's joy and gratitude at having finally found a way to stay sober, the 'Twelve and Twelve' reflects an entirely different mood. In 1951 and 1952, when Bill wrote the second book, he was suffering almost constant depression and was forced to confront the emotional and spiritual demons that remain "stranded" in the alcoholic psyche when the high tide of active alcoholism recedes. The 'Twelve and Twelve' provides a highly practical and profoundly spiritual prescription to exercise those demons."

Thus, in my experience there are indeed grave perils and deep pitfalls that can be (as they were for me) life-threatening if one overly (or solely) relies on the Twelve and Twelve without reference and reliance on the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. That being said, there is great promise to alleviate the residual suffering of "the alcoholic psyche" after, but not before, "the high tide of active alcoholism recedes."

The spiritual path that is so meticulously laid out and explained in the two volumes, if walked day-by-day, promises us a new perspective on life and what it means to be sober, indeed it offers us "a gift that amounts to a new state of consciousness and being." (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 107.)

It is exceedingly difficult and painful, in my experience, to sober up and remain sober without a firm foundation in the 'Big Book.' It is equally difficult and even more painful, I have found, to remain mentally and emotionally sober without a firm foundation in the Twelve and Twelve.

Needing To Know & Needing To Be Right

"Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely."

Alcoholics Anonymous, "How It Works," p. 58.

I've often heard it said that two of the hardest things to do in life are: (a) to admit we were wrong, and (b) to admit we do not know. Doing either, it seems at first, threatens our instinctive drives for security, sex and society. If we don't know, or if (gasp!) we're wrong, what will become of us?

The first of these challenges, admitting that we were wrong, is explicitly dealt with in Step Ten. When we are wrong, we "promptly admit it." In time, and with practice, admitting we've made a mistake and/or acted wrongly becomes much easier. It is a valuable discipline which leads directly to ego-deflation and self-abnegation (i.e., the "forgetting" of "self").

Dr. Wayne Dyer

'Letting Go and Letting God', as spiritual teacher, Dr. Wayne Dyer, observes, "involves relinquishing ego’s attachment to, or fear of, something. The single most pronounced attachment for most of us during the morning of our lives," he points out, "is the attachment to being right!"

"There’s nothing (the) ego loves more than to be right," Dyer notes, "which makes it an important and satisfying attachment to practice letting go of."

The second proposition - admitting that "we do not know" - is not as explicitly addressed in the Twelve Steps, however. But it is an integral part of the Step One admission that our lives were, are and will remain unmanageable. After all, if we rather than God were omniscient, omnipotent and all-knowing our lives would not be unmanageable, and we would be just fine, thank you. But that is decidedly not how it is.

In his many talks, A.A. pioneer, and author, Chuck C. ("A New Pair of Glasses"), would point out that he was brought up to believe he must "out-think, out-smart and out-perform" all comers in order to get what is needed out of life. He, like all of us, had fallen victim to the "delusion" that all would be well and we could "wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if (we) only manage well." ('Big Book,' page 61.) It is this delusion, our pride, and the fear of the unknown that grips us when we encounter the unfamiliar that makes it so difficult to admit, even to ourselves, that we are not all-knowing. 

If we admit that "we do not know" what to do in a situation, "we do not know" the answer to a question, or, perhaps, "we do not know" some key information we think we really should know, how does that make us feel? How does it affect how others will think of us? Are we not somehow diminished in our own eyes and the eyes of others? Isn't such an admission shattering to one's self-confidence? Do we not need to know in order to manage life?

Andrew Cohen, Editor-in-chief,
EnlightenNext magazine.

Paradoxically, as ever, and as counter-intuitive as it seems at first, the admission that "we do not know" is a sign of inner strength and an honest admission of our powerlessness. No one person is omniscient and knows everything he or she might wish, and this despite what he or she wishes to convey to the world. After all, as spiritual teacher, Andrew Cohen, points out, the reality is that "beyond a certain point we do not know, we cannot know, and we do not need to know."

Our readiness and ability to let go of this "need to know" is, thus, like our ability to admit it when we are wrong, a good indicator of our spiritual growth. The ego has a fierce desire to know everything and be right all of the time. In facing, accepting and admitting to others the truths that "we do not know" and/or that "we were wrong" we take giant strides towards curbing our self-righteousness and moving beyond the "small self" of the ego towards the "Authentic Self" which is the core and essence of our Being.

Life Is Inherently Unmanageable

Do not be fooled by the delusion that somehow life has suddenly become "manageable" now that you have stopped drinking and/or drugging. This is the last of the "three delusions" that are identified in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. Admission that one does not have the requisite power to "manage" one's  life is the completion of Step One. In reality, life becomes wholly "acceptable" to us, rather than "manageable" by us. In seeing this, the description of the individual as an "actor" at pages 60-62 of the 'Big Book' is most helpful.

"Most people try to live by self-propulsion," we read. That is, we try to manage life and all its details in order to satisfy the desires and quell the fears that arise through our constant discursive thinking - i.e., the fears and desires of the false, egoic self. In doing so we may have the best intentions. That is, if life's circumstances turn out the way we try to shape them, the results will be good for everyone, even ourselves. (But remember the old adage: "The road to hell is paved with good intentions.")

In trying to give effect to our plans and schemes we must, of necessity, try to influence and direct the thoughts, words and actions of others, for "no man is an island." In doing so, we read, we "may sometimes be quite virtuous . . . kind, considerate, patient, generous . . . even modest and self-sacrificing." Driven by what we think is necessary or desirable, we will do almost anything to have life proceed as we wish it to. And, if being the good guy doesn't work, we "may be mean, egotistical, selfish and dishonest." In short, we will do almost anything that is required to have life come off as we want it too; and, if it doesn't, we are likely to become "angry, indignant, (and) self-pitying."

"What," we are asked, is the actor's "basic problem"?

"Is he not really a self-seeker even when trying to be kind? Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction out of life if only he manages well?" (Emphasis added.)

 In his Meditations, the Roman Emperor and Stoic philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, made the apt observation that: "Life is inherently unmanageable." (Emphasis added.)

It is most helpful, I find, to remember two things: (a) that "(t)he problem of the alcoholic centers in his mind" ('Big Book,' page 23); and, (b) that "lack of power (is) our dilemma" ('Big Book,' page 45). We lack the inherent power to manage life and all its many aspects; yet, when identified with the ego, and attached to its stream of incessant thoughts, we continually fall into the trap of thinking that we can - and must - shape the circumstances and outcomes of our lives. Doing so, we react to life instead of responding to it. And, typically, we react rather poorly.

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

Acceptance of life's inherent unmanageability allows us to give effect to the "three pertinent ideas" set out at the end of the "How It Works" reading. Both "before and after" we give up alcohol (and/or other drugs), it must be clear:

(a) "That we (are) alcoholic and (cannot) manage our own lives."
(b) "That probably no human power (can relieve) our alcoholism."
(c) "That God (can) and (will) if He (is) sought."

Admission and acceptance of these three principles allows us to move forward to Steps Four through Step Nine which will effectively deflate our ego (and its sense of separateness), relieve of us of our old ideas and way of thinking, and thereby enable us to experience a "spiritual awakening" within our Being that truly allows us to "accept life on life's terms."

* * * * *

(Note also: The description of "the actor" applies not only to the alcoholic, but to "most people" - i.e. to so-called "normal people" - as well. When we understand that virtually everyone we encounter is self-identified and ego-centric, it helps us to understand and be unaffected by their often-times odd attitudes, their seeming eccentricities, and their selfish or self-centered behaviours. In seeing this, we are enabled to truly forgive them their "trespasses," knowing that they too are merely victims of the ego's "delusion" that they too can "wrest satisfaction and happiness out of life by managing well," and that therefore they must manage life at all costs.)

Expectations, Acceptance and Serenity

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

 The paragraph, above, on "acceptance" (from Acceptance is the Answer, p. 417) is likely the most familiar quote from the personal stories in the back of the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. I have read it discussed it, and have heard it discussed in countless meetings. And, yet, as important a message as it is, in recent weeks I have been reflecting on the following simple spiritual calculus that the author includes on the last page of his story (page 420):

• ". . . (M)y serenity is inversely proportional to my expectations."

• ". . . (M)y serenity is directly proportional to my level of acceptance."

 The more expectations I have for how people, circumstances and the world should behave, the less serenity I will have, as only God is omniscient. On the other hand, the more acceptive I am of how the people, circumstances and the world change around me, the more serenity I have.

To me, this is the personal manifestation of the second part of Step One, the admission that life has become (and remains) unmanageable by me. In fact, it always was unmanageable by my efforts, but wholly managed in its totality. Thus, I was continually disturbed precisely because all my efforts to shape people, things and circumstances to the way I thought they should be almost always backfired. People, circumstances and the world continued to evolve in the most unexpected (to me) ways. Only grudgingly and belatedly would I reconcile myself to those changes, but with the caveat that I would then have new set of expectations as to how people and the world should behave in these new found  circumstances. On and on this non-virtuous circle drove me through life.

The gist of the spiritual calculus laid out by the author illustrates how expectations and acceptance are really opposite sides of a coin. The greater my expectations, the less accepting I am, and the less serenity I have. The more accepting I am, the fewer expectations I have, and the more serene I am.

"Mastery of life," Eckhart Tolle once observed, "is the opposite of control." Such mastery, I might add, lies in the acceptance of life without expectations.

Three Delusions and a Few Conclusions

"(T)he main problem of the alcoholic," we read in the 'Big Book,' "centers in the mind." Why is this apparently so? Firstly, the alcoholic addict may harbor the delusion that, against all evidence, one day he or she may be able to control and enjoy his or her drinking once again. Secondly, there is the delusion that he or she is like other people, or one day will be. And thirdly, there is the delusion that he or she may be able "to wrest satisfaction and happiness out of life" if only he manages well.

The first of these delusions, that the alcoholic addict is one day going to be able to control and enjoy his drinking is belied by the evidence, both personal and anecdotal. No one but the alcoholic addict him or herself can effectually make the diagnosis that he or she is indeed alcoholic. Yet we read in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous that if when drinking you have little or no control over how much you imbibe, or you find that you cannot quit entirely on your own, you are probably alcoholic. Only the alcoholic addict can honestly answer those questions for him or her self. Anecdotally, medical doctors have established that the the phenomenon of craving for more and more booze when a person drinks is limited to one class of drinkers only - alcoholics.

Personally, I know that when I drank (or, in my case, used drugs) I always craved more and more, and that when I wasn't drinking or drugging, my mind was obsessed with just how and when I was going to be able to do so again.  I couldn't control how much I took, nor could I quit entirely on my own, and I thus remain convinced, even after twenty-odd years clean and sober, that I am both physically and mentally alcoholic. The delusion that one day I might be able to drink (or drug) like normal people who do not do so addictively has been smashed.

The delusion that I am like other people, or one day may be, is a delusion that is more subtle and persistent, however. I am not like other people, nor will I be, so far as booze or drugs is concerned, but am I not so in all other respects? Yes, but not exactly.

"Most people," we read at page 60 in the 'Big Book,' "try to live by self-propulsion. Each person is like the actor who wants to run the show, is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet the scenery and the rest of the players in his own way." In this respect, we alcoholic addicts, I have come to see are like other people, only more so. Happily, but cautiously, I can say that I am no different from other people in this respect: but most importantly, I know that I am.

An attitude of selfishness, self-centeredness and self-consciousness - the underlying ego identification with whatever we are thinking at the time - we read over and over in the 'Big Book' is the underlying problem of the alcoholic addict. We pray to be relieved of "the bondage of self," we make an accurate moral self-survey and share it, we make amends where possible for the harm we have done when acting on self, and we acknowledge that we are self-centered as we endeavor to be freed from the character defects which make us this way.

This is both a curse and a blessing. Acknowledging that we are "self-centered to the extreme," we can look around and see that most other people are merely 'extremely self-centered.' For most 'normal' people, their self-centeredness works to a greater or lesser degree - and it is usually the latter. But for the alcoholic addict whose two solutions to the innate irritability, restlessness and discontent of egoic self-consciousness is either to drink (and/or drug) or to seek a spiritual solution that will provide us with ease and comfort, such self-centerdeness is, we read, "infinitely grave." Shattering the delusion that we are like other people, or some day will be, is thus imperative if we are to make changes in our lives so that down the road (and, many times, years down the road) we do not run into a seemingly intractable situation in which our only alternative looks like a drink.

On the other hand, knowing that so-called 'normal people' are also predominantly self-centered (or egocentric) confers advantages upon the alcoholic addict in recovery. It allows us to understand the oftentimes peculiar motivations that drives others, it allows us to truly forgive others for their actions that may have hurt us, it allows us to make amends for harm done where we can, and when we are wrong it allows us to promptly admit it. We all, it turns out, have feet of clay.

Lastly, the delusion that we will be able to "wrest satisfaction and happiness out of life" if only we manage well also has to go by the boards. Each of us (and all our loved ones) will struggle, age, get sick and eventually die. Self-centered 'normal' folks will continue to step on our toes. The unexpected will continue to happen. The best laid plans will continue to go awry, and life will continue to be inherently unmanageable. Neither sobriety nor spirituality will make life "manageable." But working the Twelve Steps, if practiced diligently, will make life "acceptable" to us if we allow ourselves to "Let Go and Let God." "Mastery of life," noted an enlightened man, "is the opposite of control."

"Here is the how and the why of it," we read at page 62 of the 'Big Book.' "First of all, we had to quit playing God. It didn't work. Next we decided that hereafter in this drama of life, God was going to be our Director. He is the Principal; we are His agents. He is the Father, and we are His children. Most good ideas," we read, "are simple, and this concept was the keystone of the new and triumphant arch through which we pass to freedom."

We will not be able to control and enjoy our drinking one day, we are not like other people, and our lives do not become manageable by us. The acceptance of these facts of our lives, together with accurate self-survey, prayer, meditation and selfless service to others, however, allows us to live full, God-conscious, productive and loving lives.

Step One Misperceptions and Confusion

There are many sayings - some trite but true, others not - that one hears around the tables in Alcoholics Anonymous (and many of its sister organizations). One of these sayings is that: "Step One is the only Step we do 100%." But is this what our literature says? Is this truly our collective experience? My reading of our literature, and my own experience, says it is not.

This particular saying seems to originate in the essay on Step Six in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, where (at page 68) we read: "Only Step One, where we made the 100 percent admission we were powerless over alcohol, can be practiced with absolute perfection. The remaining eleven Steps state perfect ideals. They are goals toward which we look, and the measuring sticks by which we estimate our progress."

Note that in this passage it is only "the 100 percent admission we were powerless over alcohol" which can be "practiced with absolute perfection." The alcoholic addict practices this first part of the First Step with perfection each day when he or she does not drink and/or drug. This says nothing about the second (and more difficult) half of the First Step, where we admit that our lives have become unmanageable. The two halves of the First Step are separate, but intricately interrelated concepts. They are not interchangeable.

Yet, in his essay on Step One in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, even Bill seems to treat the two parts as being the same, or at least he muddies the distinction between them. At page 23 of the Twelve and Twelve, discussing those "who were scarcely more than potential alcoholics," Bill asks: "Since Step One requires an admission that our lives have become unmanageable, how could such as these take this Step?"

His answer is that we "raise the bottom the rest of us hit to the point where it would hit them." And, if this does not work, he suggests that to these "doubters" we might say: "Perhaps you are not an alcoholic after all. Why don't you try some more controlled drinking, bearing in mind meanwhile what we have told you about alcoholism."

WTF???? He suggests that a person who is struggling with the idea that his life has become unmanagaeable should go out and try more drinking? This does not make sense. In my experience it has been beneficial to suggest such a tactic to a person who is unclear whether or not he or she is powerless over alcohol, after all that is the crux of the matter and a proposition that we must accept 100 percent. By contrast, I both struggle myself (and see many many others struggle) with the idea that life is, in fact, unmanageable . . . and will remain so. After all, if life became manageable, we would just manage it by ourselves, and what need would we have for the remaining eleven Steps?

Remember, in the How It Works reading, we hear the following, over and over: "Our description of the alcoholic, the chapter to the agnostic, and our personal adventures before and after [stopping drinking], make clear three pertinent ideas: (a) That we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives. (b) That probably no human power could have relieved our alcoholism.  (c) That God could and would if He were sought."

I have practiced the first half of Step One with 100 percent effectiveness for the past 21 years, but day upon day I struggle with the second half of Step One - i.e., ceding control and management of my life to a Power greater than myself. Thus, whenever I have a problem toaday, I can recognize that it is, in effect, a problem with the second half of Step One. I can still be driven blindly by my small, egoic self, although thankfully (a) this does not happen as frequently as it once did, and (b) I have the tools to correct - and clean up after - such self-centered thinking and behaviour.

Not picking up a drink (and in my case a mind-altering drug) is the only part of the program that I have so-far managed to practice with 100 percent success, and it is likely to remain that way. Remember, on this spiritual path we strive for perfection, all the while knowing that we will inevitably fall short. Meanwhile, with the Grace of God, one day at a time we stay sober.

"In Denial" or Victims of Our "Delusions"?

There is a fundamental difference between the meaning of "denial" and "delusion." Often used interchangeably in discussions, they are not used interchangably in A.A. literature. In fact, "denial," which appears to be oft-discussed in treatment centers (for example, in the sense of denying the effect that one's alcoholic addiction has on others), is not even discussed in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. On the other hand, three particular delusions are discussed at some length in A.A.'s basic text.

Denial, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, is merely "a statement that something is not true," although in its psychological sense, it can mean the usually subconscious "suppression of an unacceptable truth or emotion." Thus, being unable to accept the truth of the harm one has done to others over the course of active addiction, for example, one may deny (consciously or subconsiously) the truth that any harm has been done. In this instance, one is either lying to others (if the denial is conscious), or lying to one's self (if it is subconscious).

Delusion, on the other hand, is defined as "a false belief or impression," while, in its psychological sense it is viewed as "a symptom or form of mental disorder." Irrespective of whether something is true, such as the reality of one's addiction, there is a delusionary but honestly-held belief that it is not true. One is not, in such instance, lying to oneself. Rather in this instance, the alcoholic addict is mentally delusional.

Recalling that the 'Big Book' is explicit in pointing out that "the problem of the alcoholic centers in his mind," and that both alcoholism and addiction are classified as mental illnesses by the medical profession, what is likely to be the reality of the crap floating around in our psyche? Are we simply "in denial," as some like to think; or, are we, in fact, "delusional"?

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

There are three specific delusions - each dealing with aspects of the First Step - that are discussed in the 'Big Book.' Two of these instances are discussed on page 30, while the remaining is discussed on page 61.

In the first paragraph of page 30, we read: "The ideas that somehow, someday he will be able to control and enjoy his drinking again 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." Although he or she may honestly believe that it is not true at the time, in recovery we come to see that, in fact - despite our knowing or believing it at the time - we were obsessed with controlling and enjoying our drinking, just as much as we physically craved alcohol itself once we started drinking.

In the following paragraph - new idea, new paragraph, new meaning - we read that "(t)he delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed." This, of course, can have two meanings. First, it can mean that because of our physical "allergy" to alcohol we will never be able to drink normally. But, second, and more importantly, it also means that as a result of years of addiction, we are quite literally "not like other people." Other people, we will read later, are also like actors who want to run the show (see pages 60-62), but whereas other people may also be selfish and self-centered, the alcoholic addict (thanks to years of practice honing these traits and way of thinking) "is an extreme example of self-will run riot." Others are self-centered, we are extremely so. That is our natural propensity, and it is not going to be overcome without a struggle.

Yet, while the selfishness and self-centeredness of the alcoholic addict may differ in degree from the so-called "normal" person, we share a common delusion: "What is (the actor's) basic trouble?" we are asked. "Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if he only manages well?"

Life is inherently unmanageable. We admit this in the second-half of Step One. Problems arise because we get sucked into the delusion that we both have to, and have the ability to, manage life - all of it - even with other self-managing "normal" people pushing back against our arrogant and desperate efforts to manage the whole affair with all their might.

"The description of the alcoholic, the chapter to the agnostic, and our stories before and after," we read at page 60 of the 'Big Book', "make clear three pertinent ideas:

(a) That we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives.
(b) That probably no human power could have relieved our alcoholism.
(c) That God could and would if He were sought." (Emphasis added.)

Just to the extent that we entertain the illusion that we will "control and enjoy our drinking," we will continue to drink. Just to the extent that we entertain the delusion that "we are like other people, or one day will be," we will continue to suffer. Just to the extent that we entertain the delusion that we can "wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world" if we manage well, we will become insufferable - both to others, and to ourselves.

With true recovery we overcome all these delusions. We realize that we could not and cannot control and enjoy drinking; that we were not and are not like other people; and, we did not and do not need to control and manage life. On these terms, life becomes acceptable to us on its terms - no matter the circumstances - and we find that we can respond to life's circumstances and people instead of blindly reacting to them.

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.]

Expectations, Anger and Resentments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Power, Coercion and Acceptance

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Perils of 'White-Knuckling' Sobriety

The danger with "white-knuckling it" in recovery - whether this consists of perpetually putting off working the 12 Steps (typically resulting from 4th Step fear), or in becoming complacent, slacking off meetings and ceasing to do the daily work that is necessary to maintain healthy sobriety - is that very, very quickly and subtly one is back running the show, managing one's life, and stepping all over the toes of people who insist on running theirs. Within days, one may be drunk, or worse. At best, one may find oneself all alone and facing the dreaded "Four Horsemen" of "Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration and Despair" without the luxury of being able to take a drink, or to lighten the load by sharing one's fears and frustrations with someone who can understand you in the depth of your being. Remember, "the problem of the alcoholic centers in his mind, rather than in his body." [Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 23.]

"Now and then," we read in the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous, "a serious drinker, being dry at the moment says, "I don't miss it at all. Feel better. Work better. Having a better time." As ex-problem drinkers, we smile at such a sally. We know our friend is like a boy whistling in the dark to keep up his spirits. He fools himself. Inwardly he would give anything to take half a dozen drinks and get away with them. He will presently try the old game again, for he isn't happy about his sobriety. He cannot picture life without alcohol. Some day he will be unable to manage life either with alcohol or without it. He will be at the jumping-off place. He will wish for the end."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, pp. 152-153.]

The usual result of "white-knuckling" sobriety is thus, usually, relapse with all the suffering that causes. Hopefully, but far from certainly, that may mean a lesson learned and the "white- knuckling" alcoholic addict will return to the fellowship of A.A. (or a sister organization) and begin working the 12 Steps anew, this time being "fearless and thorough from the very start." Unfortunately, that is the best scenario.

There are a certain number of "white-knucklers" who find themselves "at the jumping-off place" and do, in fact, jump. They may do so either after drinking some more or, shockingly, even in sobriety. Of the "Four Horsemen" Bill describes, "Despair" can be the most deadly. Ask any old-timer whether they have known anyone with long-term sobriety who, having failed to take the 12 Steps or haing drifted away from the fellowship and work of A.A., has taken their life, and chances are he or she will probably be able to tell you the story of some deceased friend.

There is, of course, a whole further class of "white-knucklers" who learn to stoically absorb the suffering of recovery without relief. Opinionated, angry, disputatious, gruff and unhappy, it is not hard to pick them out, if they still go to meetings at all. Twenty or thirty years later they are still going on about their drinking days and their character defects seem to be getting worse not better. Taking a mental rather than moral inventory, they have decided that they are not all that bad after all, particularly since they no longer drink. Thus, year after year they do not change as, after all, their life has become quite manageable - thank you very much - since they quit drinking.

Let's face it. None of us is, or will be perfect. But if we do not do the work that is suggested, or if having gone once through the Steps we fail to do the daily work that is required for the maintenance of our spiritual condition, we will inevitably fall into one of these groups. None is safe, all are deadly. Only the amount of suffering and pain absorbed and inflicted varies from case to case.

How to avoid these perils? "Abandon yourself to God as you understand God. Admit your faults to him and to your fellows. Clear away the wreckage of the past. Give freely of what you find and join us. We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit. . . May God bless you and keep you - until then."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 164.]

Recovery Despite "Grave Emotional or Mental Disorders"

As an individual who has experienced a lifetime of bouts with recurrent depression - one of the "grave mental and emotional disorders" referenced in the "How It Works" chapter of the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous - but who has nevertheless attained and sustained long-term sobriety and freedom from alcoholic addiction, it is helpful (indeed necessary) for me to remember the nature of that illness. For this, the "Doctor's Opinion" in the 'Big Book' is the best place to start.

In Doctor Silkworth's statement enlarging upon his views about alcoholism, we are confirmed in "what we who have suffered alcoholic torture must believe - that the body of the alcoholic is quite as abnormal as the mind." Thus, while "the problem of the alcoholic centers in the mind" - as do other, primarily mental illnesses - it is important for me to recognize and remind myself of the strong physical component to alcoholic addiciton.

"It did not satisfy us," we read, "to be told that we could not control our drinking just because we were maladjusted to life, that we were in full flight from reality, or were outright mental defectives. These things were true to some extent, in fact, to a considerable extent with some of us. But we are sure that our bodies were sickened as well. In our belief, any picture of the alcoholic which leaves out this physical factor is incomplete."

If I had never drank alcohol, I wouldn't have become alcoholic, although that latent physical potentiality would still have been there. This does not mean, however, that I would never have suffered from depression. Looking back, with the help of friends, sponsors and therapists, it is clear that at times I treated my depression with the booze and drugs. However, looking at my family tree, it is equally clear that I, along with other family members, suffered from depression - some with additional battles against alcoholism, some without such struggles - irrespective of my alcoholism. Both diseases, I have found, have their biological bases, and their mental expressions are well known.

Thus, just as I seek treatment to guard against, and/ or ameliorate, chronic depression (which is a matter that is strictly between my doctors and myself), I must also remember that my alcoholic addiction requires treatment as well. That is why I continue to work the 12 Steps, attend meetings and try to help others work through the Steps.

Dr. Silkworth (and many doctors since) suggests "that the effect of alcohol on . . . chronic alcoholics is a manifestation of an allergy; that the phenomenon of craving is limited to this class and never occurs in the average temperate drinker. These allergic types can never safely use alcohol in any form at all; and once having formed the habit and found they cannot break it, once having lost their self-confidence, their reliance upon things human, their problems pile up on them and become astonishingly difficult to solve."

Looking back at my sixteen years of alcoholic addiction, three things happened the first time I got drunk, and the same three things happened the last time I got drunk: I lost my natural inhibitions and felt like an integral part of what was happening around me, I wanted more (and still more) of the booze and drugs that were making me feel that way, and I drank way more than I could stomach and eventually passed out. But in the midst of this, sometimes for just the briefest period, I felt elation. These effects were more or less present each time I drank, and accept for the puking out, passing out or, worse, blacking out, I drank for these effects. I craved more and more alcohol, and progressively drank more and more alcohol to attain the desired affect. And when sober, I could not wait to get high and drunk again. Such is the nature of my addiction.

I had one moment of clarity, which looking back I attribute to the grace of God, and that was sufficient to make the tentative first call for help which would lead me out of this alcoholic addiction. I work the 12 Steps to the best of my ability on a daily basis, so that I do not return to active addiction - ever.  I really do not know if I would have a "second chance" at recovery. And, I suspect not.

The added bonus is that working the Steps - living the spiritual way of life I have been taught in A.A. -  also helps me with the continuing threat that depression always poses, although, as mentioned, I do seek outside medical help for that supposedly "outside issue." For a while I attended meetings of Emotions Anonymous (one of A.A.'s many sister groups), where they used the Twelve Steps to deal with emotional and mental issues such as depression. I met people there who were getting great relief through working the Steps in that fellowship.

But, for me, an alcoholic addict in recovery, A.A. will always be home. All around me I see people just like me dealing with the same fears, overwrought desires and their struggles with everyday and once-in-a-lifetime occurrences, and I draw strength from their success, and knowledge from their experience which helps me in my life.

Over the years, I have boiled down the necessity of treating what are, in fact, two separate but related, and primarily mental illnesses (alcoholic addiction and depression) to the following: It is difficult and at times impossible for an unhealthy brain to entertain consistently healthy thought; therefore, I work with my doctor in assuring that my tendency to depression is kept in check. At the same time, it is still all too easy for a healthy brain to have some very unhealthy thoughts; therefore I work the 12 Steps, have a sponsor, and hang with individuals who are both working a program of recovery and have deep aspirations to increase and improve their conscious contact with a Power greater than themselves.

As a result, I have been the beneficiary of some great teachers and garnered invaluable insights into who I am as a person. And irrespective of what life brings to me, I have found (although it may not have seemed so at the time) that I can accept it all good and bad, whether it is the love my children have for me, or the loss of a woman I loved dearly, or any of the ups and downs that have happened in-between. I may not like what life brings, but that is not my call.

My imperative is to stay awake spiritually, to accept life as it is served to me, and to learn to accept it as it is, rather than plucking up false courage and unwisely battling things that are far beyond my ability to influence or control. My life remains unmanageable, and I accept that. Thank God, it is under better management than I could ever provide!

Chasing Our Desires

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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