Meditation on Being

Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?

The very act of asking the questions implies an uncertainty. The baby discovers its fingers, its toes, the mother’s breast, her eyes, a rattle. Feels wet, cold, warm, safe. One baby grows to accept these strange things, these variations in physical comfort, and another baby questions. When does the baby begin to question?

I am still the baby, still fascinated by each new discovery in the world around me, still full of questions about their origin, my origin. The Indigo Girls sing, “The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine.” I sing along, though the picture I have in my mind when I come to that line is that of a woman (is it sometimes me?) who responds to the question, “How are you doing?” through clenched teeth: “I’m FINE.”

That simple three-degree shift.

***

G.K. came up a bit ago with the binoculars and told me to look out at Cassady in the yard. She had a baby robin, alive and unhurt (must have fallen out of the nest) between her paws, dancing around it, trying to entice it to play. Two adult robins were trying to distract her without success. I didn't know what to do. Finally, I put my shoes on and opened the door—only to have her grab the bird and take off towards the willow tree. She probably thought I came to take the bird from her (and she'd be right). I let her go. I don't feel good about it, but I just let her go. George comforted me, told me, "It's nature. You couldn't have gotten it back to the nest, anyway." And he's right. To rescue the baby bird may have eased my conscience for the moment, but in another way, it's a sort of denial of the cycle of nature. Turn, turn, turn.

***

My prayers are often wordless. My concept of a Higher Power shifts as my consciousness shifts. There are times when I need an anthropomorphic god, a parent figure, though I do shy away from using pronouns. Occasionally, I’ll slip into the masculine pronoun, primarily out of habit. The masculine is all that’s used in my Big Book and I grew up in the Christian church, so the idea of a Heavenly Father is easy, though not always comfortable. The feminine pronoun makes sense—a Mother that’s given birth to All. But mostly, I think in dualities, and with the exception of some microscopic organisms and, I think, some worms, that which has a heartbeat needs both mother and father to join together in its creation. I don’t like It, as “It” is not specific, though…how can I be specific about something beyond the reaches of my human comprehension? I can’t be specific on the process of getting gas from the pump into the tank of my car, but I still swipe my card and manage to get the needle to read “full” again.

My prayers are often wordless because, most of the time, I’m trying merely to align myself with something. I really don’t see accidents in the world, so I assume that I’m not one, that I have a Purpose, and also that I have a will that can stomp its feet and refuse to fulfill that Purpose. Aligning myself is Harmony, vibrating at just the right frequency meant for me, and when I come upon others vibrating at their proper frequency, cool stuff happens. I follow signs. I find the right human words. I sense peace that may or may not be reflected in the world around me.



So, wordless prayer can be as simple as taking a full cup of coffee to the porch, sitting down in my rocking chair, and allowing myself to breathe for a while. Meditation follows. I open myself to that which is before me, inside me, and around me. At times, I’m inspired to get up and move, and at other times, company comes to call, and I’m encouraged to sit, to be still.
***

A couple of summers ago, my cats caught and killed a cardinal in my front yard. I was devastated. I put out seed for the birds, luring them in so that I could enjoy them, and my cats, my pets, killed one of them. Only months before, I’d given up meat in protest that everything lives to eat or be eaten, and here I was, providing the bait and the instrument of death. I wrote an essay about wanting to put bells around my cats’ necks. In the end, I didn’t do it. The reasons were several. First of all, my cats aren’t that great when it comes to hunting birds. I feed them too well and their predatory nature is dulled, I think, because of it. Secondly, just because I have altered my place in the food chain doesn’t mean that I should dictate the place of others under my influence. There’s also the fact that I live surrounded by both farmlands and woodlands, and if my cats want to wander and hunt, they don’t need me to lure in their prey. Maybe bells would make them less efficient, but as I said, they don’t do so hot without the bells anyway. That sounds like a cop-out, but…

There were more reasons, but I don’t remember them anymore. The point is, I only ever saw my domesticated cats as having the potential to harm those other creatures in the wild. My dog? This harmless Border collie? I really don’t think Cassady meant to harm the bird. She tries herding them all the time, which is hilarious to watch. She will watch a bird and follow, jumping all the way, when it takes flight. She’ll follow it from the evergreens in the front yard to the fruit trees in the back yard. Until a couple of days ago, she’d never caught one. And once she had it, just like her plastic Folgers can that she chases around the yard, catching it on the tip of her nose and flipping it up in the air, she wouldn’t let anyone take her toy.

I can watch a news report about lives lost in a hurricane or a tornado and accept that some things just happen. I feel badly, and I say a prayer for the families and friends left behind to grieve. I pray that if energy continues to exist once a living thing dies that the energy gets a better break next time around. I don’t blame it on God. I believe somehow it will become part of the Plan, that there is a Purpose in the action and in the consequences.

I’ll think about that baby robin again, and again, I’m sure, just as I thought about the cardinal of several summers ago. Maybe I’ll even come to some sort of understanding, or I’ll write a poem in its honor. To everything, there is a season.

***

Through step eleven, I get the privilege of remaining in a childlike state of wonder and, some would say, childlike faith. I don’t have to be jaded and cynical anymore because I don’t have to insist that I know the truth—though I’ve discovered many truths. One of those truths is that there isn’t—or needn’t be—any waste in the human experience. I pray only for God’s will for me and the power to carry it out, and sometimes, I’m totally clueless when I take a look at what’s before me. I can spend a whole lot of energy fighting against it, throwing tantrums, or I can use that power—that god-given power—to put one foot in front of the other. It’s much easier to accept God’s will when the result of the action is “success,” and not always so easy to accept when the result is not so easily categorized. Harder still when I slap a “failure” label on it. Wasted? No. If, down the road, the reason doesn’t become clear, then I have a lesson, something more for the experience bag.

Up next: “Bad isn’t always bad.”

Peace & Love,
Jody K.

Following the Signs

“…praying only for God’s will for me and the power to carry it out.”

I’ve accomplished a lot of things in the short time (six and a half years) that I’ve been sober. I learned to walk again, I learned to be a good mom again, I met a man, fell in love and got married again. I’ve participated in the family garden and slowly and steadily preserved more and more of the yield each year. I went back to school and earned a baccalaureate degree. I’ve been accepted to graduate studies, earned a “full ride,” found a part-time home in a city two hours from home, have become a college instructor, have seen a number of my essays published. Each year, I’ve looked back in amazement at the changes, the forward progress I can see and wonder – how’d that happen?

In recent conversation with a lovely woman named Maryanne, we discussed the concept of following the signs. The twelve steps provide the path to recovery, and the text of Alcoholics Anonymous provides clear-cut directions to following that path. We came to the conclusion that in following those directions, our primary job is being conscious of the signs along the way. I can plan to visit a town a few hours from here and have an address in front of me, but without directions, I’m likely to have some difficulty getting there – even if, say, I know the town is to the southwest. I can head in that general direction, though I’m likely to find myself frustrated, taking wrong turns, backtracking, and not making near the forward progress that I would if I had directions in hand.

But even with directions, I’m going to have to stay alert to road signs. I once heard Father Joe Martin talk about putting God in the driver’s seat. He said, “Don’t do that! You’ll crash!” Instead, he suggested, let God provide the map!

During my active addiction, everything seemed so hard. I was the quintessential quitter. I’d get so far along in something, find myself at what appeared to be a dead end, and I’d quit. I wouldn’t ask for help. I definitely wouldn’t pray for help. If I couldn’t bulldoze my way through something, I just quit. Working the twelve steps with a sponsor is truly the first action that I’ve begun and saw through to the end. Each time I would complete “formal” step work, my sponsor would say to me, “Now, put that step into your life.”

Somewhere along the line, I began praying a very simple prayer in the mornings. “God, guide my thoughts and actions. Please make me useful today.” And up pop the signs. All I really have to do is to follow along. Like what happened this past week when I took my car in for service.

I took a book along because I was told when I made the appointment that it would take an hour for the repairs. When I got there, I was told it would be more likely a two-hour wait. The service manager gave me directions to a nearby trendy coffee shop – plush sofas, classical music piped in, and over-priced but very good fare. While I sat curled on one of the sofas, reading my book, nibbling my berry-mango coffee cake and sipping my caramel latte, a young man and woman came in and set up a chess board on a table nearby. The young woman was very soft spoken. Her voice didn’t carry to where I was sitting, but the young man’s did. He took out a cell phone, and over the course of the next few minutes, I couldn’t help but hear him talking to someone at the Salvation Army. It quickly became clear that he was calling asking to be admitted to their drug and alcohol rehabilitation program. I started to pray. Was I to stop and talk with him? I wasn’t sure. I did overhear him say, “Yes, I tried AA, but it didn’t work out.” What did that mean? Would my presence be intrusive? Again, I prayed, and when I got up to leave, he and his companion were in deep conversation. It seemed intrusive to interrupt, so I said another prayer for him and I left…

…just in time to see an AA friend, Sam, sitting at the café tables outside the coffee shop. I caught him just as he was getting up to leave, and when he saw me, he sat back down and we visited for a bit – mostly small talk. We discussed fancy coffee drinks, and I told him that my husband really liked the Dairy Queen Mocha Moolatte, though he hated ordering it because he felt it was such a frivolous, juvenile sort of name. He felt undignified asking for it. Sam told me about his new scooter that gets upwards of ninety miles per gallon. I looked at my watch, realized my car was probably finished, and we said goodbye.

I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten out of a doctor’s office or a car dealership in what I’d consider a reasonable amount of time (patience is a virtue I have only sporadically), though this day, I was pleasantly surprised to find my car finished just a few minutes after I walked in. I kept thinking about the young man in the coffee shop and meeting my friend, Sam, outside. I don’t believe in coincidences anymore, so for the first ten minutes of my hour drive, I was meditating on the significance. I recalled the last time I’d seen Sam, a little over a week before. I traveled to a meeting that was along my route home to see a young woman I’d recently begun sponsoring. She’s been through some struggles. After the meeting, I followed her part-way home and remembered where she’d turned. When she came to visit me at my house so we could do some step work, she mentioned the name of the road she lived on—five miles, did she say, off the main road? I hadn’t heard from her in a few days, and there wasn’t much cell phone reception along that country road (and, besides, I don’t like to make calls when I’m driving). Could I stop in? Supposing, of course, that I could find her?

That little voice was whispering in my ear, telling me she was a country girl like me and wouldn’t stand on ceremony when it came to a drop-in visit, so I decided to give it a shot. I passed a lot of side roads, all marked, and none with the name of her road. Finally, nearly five miles out, I thought I saw her truck along the road next to a field with some horses. She has horses. I slowed. A blonde came around the back of the truck. She’s blonde! But…the woman was much too young to be her. I drove several more miles, looking for a place to turn around, and there it was – her road. Go left or go right? I chose right. I passed one house, then another, then another, and then – there she was. Standing beside a ’69 Chevelle (she told me she was looking to buy one) was my sponsee and another fellow from the rooms, a guy tattooed up both arms and known for his mechanical skills. She turned her head when she saw me pull off the road, and her eyes were big as saucers.

Now, she didn’t know I was coming. Turns out she’d called our mutual mechanic friend a few days ago, and he, too, stopped on a whim to look over her new purchase. When I got out of the car, she said, “Okay, okay. I slipped!” She assumed that I’d conspired with the mechanic to show up and 12th step her—and of course, that’s what we did once she fessed up.

There’s more to the story, but it’s that sequence of events that’s important to this little essay. I wake up most mornings having no idea what God has in store for me, though I’ve come to the conclusion that if I listen and follow signs, I’ll fall in step with God’s will for me. And I’ll be given the power to carry it out – in time, resources, inspiration, or whatever else I might need. I’ve come to count on that.

Oh – there is one teensy little thing I have to add. When I got home, my husband’s vehicle was missing, as was the “kid car” that my middle son uses for work. I found no note, which was unusual. I put on a pot of coffee and sat down to wait, and within a few minutes, my husband pulled in with our son in the passenger’s seat. The young one had somehow broken the key to the car, and the spares had mysteriously disappeared. But, my husband was in a jovial mood—which was also a little strange, as we’d been having responsibility issues with all of the kids (not just this one). After telling me what had happened, he turned to our son and said, “This is what saved you from my wrath today,” and he played a saved message on the answering machine. It was our friend, Sam, calling just to let my husband know he was sitting at Dairy Queen drinking a MOO latte. “I was in such a good mood after I heard that, I couldn’t be angry with you.”

I don’t ask, “Is it odd, or is it God?” anymore. I know :-D

Peace & Love,
Jody K.

Beginnings of Prayer in Recovery

My sobriety began the morning of October 28^th, 2002, when the nurse tore the fentanyl patch from my arm. I had spent twenty-three of the previous forty-eight hours under suicide watch in a wing of a local hospital which refused my requests to help me detox. They were not equipped, nor did they have the staff, to detoxify a broken body like mine. I had been wheelchair bound for almost two years. Although the patch was not keeping me from being sick, it continued to tease my addiction by delivering a slow and steady dose of poison to my system. I am an alcoholic and a drug addict, both one and the same in cause, though some still make a distinction because of the presenting symptoms. Whatever the symptoms of alcoholism, whatever the symptoms of drug addiction, I had them all and I was dying.

When my moment of clarity arrived, I wanted so desperately for release, and at every turn, I encountered resistance. I was told that there was not a handicapped-accessible detox facility in my entire state. I finally threatened to kill myself if someone wouldn’t help me. I could no longer live with the symptoms of my addiction, and I could find no one who was willing to help me try to live without them. The nurse who removed the patch from my arm was a psychiatric nurse. I was involuntarily committed to a behavioral health ward. My journey had begun.

Seven days later, I was transferred to a twenty-eight day facility where I was immersed in Twelve Step philosophy. At my very first meeting, I was given the directive to pray. A woman knelt down to my level and told me, “All you need to begin prayer are five words: please help me and thank you.”

By my third week of rehab, my fourth clean and sober, my emotions were as raw as my injured nervous system. I was in pain, emotionally, mentally and physically. I prayed the words but felt nothing. Finally, on Thanksgiving Day, after sharing a meal with my rehab cohort, the nurses and aides on the floor, and the remainder of the bare-bones staff who had drawn the short straw for the holiday, I returned to my room to feel sorry for myself. I had asked that my family not come to see me, in part because it was winter and so far away from my home, but more so because I wanted them to see a dramatic difference between my departure and my return, not dribs and drabs of progress from week to week. I beat myself up for not begging them to come to see me, and I beat myself up more for wanting to inconvenience them for my actions. Just for good measure, I also beat myself for not making more rapid progress.

I sat in my room, facing the institutional gray wall, talking to a God I wasn’t sure existed and if he/she/it did, would be interested in anything I had to say. I had no conception of God and I needed one. I recalled someone saying, almost in jest, that a HP can be a tree if that’s what worked. Slumped, I began to think about it. I thought of the giant sequoias that had entire ecosystems growing high up in their branches, far from sight, but there nonetheless. I wheeled around to my lone window searching the skyline, but all I could see were the brick walls of the wing across from me. In desperation, I pulled myself closer to the window, to the far right side and craned my neck. There above the concrete buildings was the very tip of an evergreen swaying slightly in the breeze. My eyes were wet for the first time since the morning that fentanyl patch was removed. My heart, hardened by the pain, softened just enough to let the miracle of nature in, and I felt something. The tree was not my Higher Power, but the Creator of the tree was. The Creator of the tree created me as well, and if that tree had a Purpose for being there, then I, too, must have a reason for Being. That’s all I needed.

That night, the topic at the meeting was Gratitude. I raised my hand to share, wheeled my way in front of the podium, and said, for the first time, I’m grateful to be alive. I meant it.

Jody K.'s Introduction to the June Essays

When the IOCC went from a question a month answered by all contributors to a monthly featured contributor, I committed to the month of June for various reasons. The academic year ends for me at the end of April, and between settling back in at home full-time and the kick-off of the outdoor gardening season here in the Northeast, I figured I’d find some time to write. Porch-sitting season usually starts in late April/early May, too, and that’s where my writing seems to take a more spiritual turn. Perhaps it’s the act of watching Mother Earth come back to life, or seeing all my feathered friends return to dine at the feeders. Maybe it’s just the feeling of freedom after having been corralled inside so much in the colder months. While the Great Spirit is always on my mind and in my heart, I feel Its presence much more acutely when I can be out of doors, communing with the heart of nature.

***

I also didn’t offer a topic or focus for “my” month because I can’t know six months ahead of time where I’ll be spiritually. Although some writers like to get emotional distance from a subject, I find my most honest spiritual writing comes from the place I happen to be occupying when I write it. My plan this month is to write a short essay every few days to a week addressing my 11th step process. They’ll likely be in narrative form, as I’ve found that I can most closely relate to the experience of another when he or she tells me a story than distilling the moral and presenting a lesson in that way. So, no lofty lectures from me. I write more about the way I live than what I think.

***

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a short essay on how I struggled to pray in early recovery. In searching the archives of the IOCC, I found a very similar essay, and at first, I felt that this “Beginnings of Prayer in Recovery” was redundant. I’m going to post it anyway. In recovery, some of the most valuable things I’ve learned from others have come from hearing them repeat the same story with a different emphasis. It’s one of the reasons I won’t skip a lead meeting because “I’ve heard that story before.” So, tomorrow on the first official day of June (Rabbit, Rabbit) after I bring my car home from the shop, I’ll come back to post that little essay. This brief introduction is enough jumping of the gun. Until tomorrow, I’ll try to practice patience!

Peace & Love,
Jody K.

Carol Ann Preston ~ Pause

Pause,
when agitated or doubtful….

Discipline is something, or my perceived understanding of this word was formerly something I avoided with great effort. Especially as it related to my spiritual life. I believed discipline was about control, rigidity that could only lead to guilt or an over the top perception of one’s self. Why then does Alcoholics Anonymous tell us that alcoholics are undisciplined, and that the first 11 steps is to create and support an effort to develop and grow into a disciplined spiritual life? And what does discipline have to do with the topic of this month, ‘Pause, when agitated or doubtful” from step 11? A simple answer to the latter is to ‘pause’ is one aspect of practicing spiritual discipline in our newfound spiritual lives. This is not an easy task, and I thought is might be a bit helpful if I looked briefly at the one thing that has always ignited the shadow of my soul with rebellion. And that one thing that I found is my misunderstanding of the word and the practice of discipline. Once I was able to move past these old ideas, I found my effort to practice this one spiritual principle within my daily affairs much easier.

Discipline is no longer a word or thought that brings about agitation and rebellion, as my understanding today is that discipline, in its loving expression, is first and foremost not control, as many addicts believe. Discipline is action that creates a sense of safety, boundaries that allow me to grow and to remain safe at the same time. Imagine the discipline of a small child. As the child grows and learns to walk, new gifts are discovered and loving and safe boundaries, or as some prefer - limits for this growth to take place is the responsibility of the parent(s). This is not to control the child, but to keep the child safe as he/she discovers the new world this wonderful gift has allowed him to discover. Walking out the front door and into the street is not safe, and requires the parents to keep the door closed or locked. Once the child is older and is riding a bike, new sets of discipline or boundaries are put in place. Again, this is to keep the child safe as he grows with his new set of gifts and skills. It is the same with us, as adults. God is our Creator and as we grow spiritually we have our part in creating discipline for ourselves, honoring the boundaries put in place by society; such as arriving at meetings or appointments at the agreed upon time. I hope that you can accept discipline as a practice that supports safe growth, and if you once held the notion that this was about punishment and control, hopefully you will consider another perception, at least as it relates to our spiritual life.

My relationship with God is a relationship. As I grow and experience new gifts, and challenges, my spiritual world gets bigger and new boundaries and practices of discipline are needed to keep me spiritually safe and to support my journey of spiritual growth. How many of us have been deceived in our spiritual journey, into practices that were not in accord with our soul-faith? Many of us are spiritually like children, wanting to manage the spiritual gifts and powers we are given, but not wanting accountability or discipline, although they are what will help keep us from being led off into a path we do not want to venture into. I have longed for spiritual gifts and an intimate connection with God since my earliest recollection, but had no idea how, until I fell into the abyss that led me to my first 12-step meeting and sponsor. As spiritual adults we are disciplined by practicing the principles of the twelve steps and honoring social discipline and boundaries, letting go of the notion that we are exempt from social or spiritual consequences when we decide to do things our own way. I know that the one consequence of not growing spiritually is that one day I will return to my addiction and this will create a block in my conscious contact with God, and I am not willing to pay this high of a price but it gives me the willingness to continue to ’enlargen my spiritual condition.’

To pause, when one is agitated or doubtful required my memorization of this simple statement and reading step 11, ‘upon awakening…’ each morning in Alcoholics Anonymous, as the beginning of practicing daily spiritual discipline. I am not sure who stated the idea that the more blessings or gifts we are given, the more responsibility we are also given. To pause is a powerful and helpful tool and disciplined spiritual principal put into action. Although this may not be something we do often I find it is more what I do not do when practicing pause.

Learning this simple solution as though it were branded into my consciousness so that when the occasion would arise, I could pause. Also, learning that this pause is not defined by time. It may be 5 seconds, enough time to take a deep breathe, or it may be 5 days or weeks, even years. Whatever the timeframe is, I found it helpful to ’see’ the pause as a place, somewhere peaceful with harmony and love, someplace I have experienced in my practice of meditation. In addition, pause is a place of personal consciousness, and in the beginning of incorporating this principle into my daily life, I found the suggestions from AA literature helpful, such as, ‘restraint of pen and tongue.’

I am not sure which comes first, pause, discipline, prayer or meditation, but I know that when I meditate more often, I find more ease in practicing pause, when I am agitated or doubtful, as I have easy access to the peaceful place within to go and be still with God.

I pray that you may find the place of ‘pause’ in your life, within your being and within the power that comes in your relationship with God, and that pausing becomes a principle of many blessings, as discipline has become a principle of safety and growth for continued spiritual growth.

Many Blessings,
Carol Ann Preston

Remembering Who We Are: a workbook by Carol Ann Preston
www.roomforhealing.com
www.take12radio.com and the ‘Relationship’ show

A.A. History Fragment Number Ten

Alcoholics Anonymous and
Dr. Silkworth’s Affirmation of Their “Cure” for Alcoholism
A.A. History Fragment Number Ten
By Dick B.
© 2009 Dick B. All rights reserved

The Remarks and Conclusions of the Rockefeller Group, the Founders, and Dr. Silkworth that led to the formation of The Alcoholic Foundation on August 11, 1938, when Big Book preparation was moving forward with Bill Wilson. In a report on the activities of the Akron Christian Fellowship, John D. Rockefeller, Jr.’s representative Frank Amos said the following:

During December, 1937, Mr. William G. Wilson arranged an appointment with W. B. Richardson at Rockefeller Plaza. Mr. Wilson told briefly the story of how, after many vain attempts to discontinue the use of alcohol, he had achieved what he believed was a permanent cure, through what he termed a religious or spiritual process.

A dinner conference was arranged. And those present were Messrs Scott, Richardson, Chipman, and Amos (the Rockefeller group); two other non-alcoholics, Dr. W.D. Silkworth (Bill Wilson’s physician and chief psychiatrist at Towns Hospital) and Dr. Leonard Strong (Wilson’s brother-in-law), and “the following ex-alcoholics, William G. Wilson, Henry G. Parkhurst, William J. Ruddell, Ned Poynter and Joe Taylor, all of New York and vicinity; Mr. John Henry Fitzhugh Mayo of near Baltimore, Maryland; Dr. Robert H. Smith and J. Paul Stanley of Akron, Ohio.” The conference lasted five hours.

Dr. Silkworth, Psychiatrist at Charles B. Towns Hospital, New York, which is rated as a leading hospital in this country for the treatment of alcoholics, made the statement that he had treated a number of these ex-alcoholics present, some of them several times, and that not one of them, in his opinion, could have been permanently cured by any means known to medical science or to Psychiatry.

He went on to state without reservation that while he could not tell just what it was that these men had which had effected their “cure,” yet he was convinced they were cured and that whatever it was, it had his complete endorsement. He stated that alcoholism is, medically, an incurable disease. These statements from an outstanding Psychiatrist and a leading authority on the treatment of alcoholism, made a very profound impression upon the non-alcoholics present.

A meeting was arranged for Mr. Wilson to talk to a friend of Mr. Amos and within two weeks this friend accepted without reservation the principles of the “cure” by a religious or spiritual approach. Over eight months have elapsed since that time, and there is every evidence that this party is permanently cured, although it is the policy of these ex-alcoholics through their own experience in working with other alcoholics, not to accept any alcoholic as permanently cured until a considerable period of time has elapsed. That period usually ranges from two to three years. The present leaders of the movement, all of them ex-alcoholics, have been teetotalers for periods ranging from two to four years.

Author Dick B. obtained the Frank Amos report quoted above, with the permission of archivist Paul L., during Dick’s two visits to the Stepping Stones Archives at Bedford Hills, New York. For documentation of Dr. Silkworth’s further affirmations that alcoholism was curable by the power of the “Great Physician,” Jesus Christ, see Dale Mitchel, Silkworth: The Little Doctor Who Loved Drunks: The Biography of William Duncan Silkworth, M.D. (Center City, MN: Hazelden, 2002), pages 44, 47-52, 67-68, 106; Norman Vincent Peale, The Positive Power of Jesus Christ: Life-Changing Adventures in Faith (Pauling, NY: Foundation for Christian Living, 1980), pages 59-63; Dick B., Cured: Proven Help for Alcoholics and Addicts, 2d ed. (Kihei, HI: Paradise Research Publications, Inc., 2006), pages 9-12, 15-18.

Contact Dick B. via email at: dickb@dickb.com. Visit his main website at: www.DickB.com.
Gloria Deo

Fragment No. Nine

Alcoholics Anonymous and “A New Way Out”
A.A. History Fragment No. Nine
Dick B.
© 2009 Dick B. All rights reserved

“A New Way Out” shows emphatically that the same power and love of God that enabled the recovery and cure of early A.A. members in Akron is available today to those who suffer.

Early A.A. first favored the name “The James Club” for its society. See DR. BOB and the Good Oldtimers, 71. 213. The older members strongly believed that the Book of James, the Sermon on the Mount, and 1 Corinthians 13 were the parts of the Bible that were absolutely essential to their program. DR. BOB, 96. In fact the Book of James was a favorite with early AAs DR. BOB, 71.

As the A.A. Big Book was being readied for publication, the “James Club” title was discarded. DR. BOB, 213. At first, the title “The Way Out” was favored by a considerable majority of the pioneers. Alcoholics Anonymous Comes of Age, 165. Most were Akron AAs. Pass It On, 203, while Bill Wilson favored the name “Alcoholics Anonymous.” Pass It On, 203. Bill W. asked AA John Henry Fitzhugh Mayo to research the Library of Congress, where Fitz found that there were already 25 books entitled “The Way Out” and another 12 entitled “The Way.” Pass It On, 203; Alcoholics Anonymous Comes of Age, 166. None was called “Alcoholics Anonymous,” And the name “Alcoholics Anonymous” was then adopted for the basic text. Alcoholics Anonymous Comes of Age, 166.

However the favored concept of a “way out” and a “pathway to a cure” did not immediately die out—a fact underlined by the title and cover proposed in an early draft of the Big Book cover. That draft cover contained the name “Alcoholics Anonymous” and then added “Their Pathway to a Cure.” See the excellent reproduction on the cover of Alcoholics Anonymous: Their Pathway to a Cure. A “First – First” Double Anniversary Limited Edition of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous (Nashville, TN: Broad Highway Publishing Company, LLC, n.d.).

Nonetheless, neither “The James Club,” nor “The Way Out,” nor “Their Pathway to a Cure” survived the special excision that took place among four people in the office of Henry Parkhurst in Newark, New Jersey just prior to the time the Big Book went to print. Alcoholics Anonymous Comes of Age, 166-69. A manuscript of some 800 pages was cut by at least a third, and some 400 pages were thrown out. Pass It On, 400. Hazelden History Director and author Bill Pittman personally told me that Bill’s secretary Ruth Hock (who was one of the four present and involved) said that the discarded pages consisted primarily of Biblical and Christian content..

Bill Wilson himself described many of the changes where a select group of folks in New York threw out the Christian and Bible materials prior to publication: (1) “Fitz thought that the book ought to be Christian in the doctrinal sense of the word and that it should say so. He was in favor of using Biblical terms and expressions to make this clear.”Alcoholics Anonymous Comes of Age, 162. (2) “A few, led by our wonderful southern friend, Fitz M., wanted a fairly religious book infused with some of the dogma we had picked up from the churches and missions which had tried to help us. The louder these arguments, the more I felt in the middle.The Language of the Heart: Bill W.’s Grapevine Writings, 202. Secretary Ruth Hock (who was present) added:

“Jimmy B. opposed the strong references to God, in both the steps and the rest of the early chapters; Hank [Parkhurst] wanted to soft-pedal them; but Fitz insisted that the book should express Christian doctrines and use Biblical terms and expressions.” Ruth remembered: “Fitz was for going all the way with ‘God’; you [Bill] were in the middle; Hank was for very little.” Pass It On, 109. However, the resulting Big Book contained conflicting references to “God,” “Creator,” “Maker,” and “Heavenly Father,” coupled with bizarre phrases such as “higher power,” “Creative Intelligence,” “Great Reality,” “Spirit of the Universe,“ and “Power,” Bill Wilson then chose to reject all the other Big Book and AA statements about the cure of alcoholism and wrote, “We are not cured of alcoholism.” Such a claim negated the very pleas that alcoholics “find God,” “establish their relationship with God,” and rely on “God,” the “One with all power.” These emphases on the power of God had been made the cornerstone of Bill’s 1939 suggested program of recovery and cure .

“A New Way Out” is not a way to evacuate, take flight from, or flee church, religion, Alcoholics Anonymous, the Big Book, the Twelve Steps, or a recovery program. It is “a” Way that seems vitally needed today when so many are dwelling on nonsense gods, nebulous “higher powers,” and the necessity for “meetings.” This “Way” was the way of the followers of Jesus Christ as they were called in the First Century. This “Way” is “new” only because it is a new, needed, renewed return approach countering the growing language of universalism, secularism, and even atheism in recovery talk. It is a way “out” of the misery, the sickness, the confusion, the intimidation, and the fear encountered by those children of God who want God’s help in getting well, the same help that produced a documented 75% success rate among the early Akron A.A. people in their Christian Fellowship.

The Way of the 1935 A.A. group and its Christian Fellowship is an assured way of deliverance by the power of God after coming to Him through Jesus Christ, whether one is suffering in prison, in a homeless shelter, in a rehab, in treatment, in therapy, in a Twelve Step fellowship, or in some church or religious recovery group. Still suffering and relapsing in a group, meeting, or society which is not emphasizing abstinence, the love and power of God, obedience, growth in fellowship with God, and intensely working with and helping others to recover in the same manner by means of love for and service to them. The message for them is the one that Dr. Bob set forth in the last page of his personal story (181): “Your Heavenly Father will never let you down!”

dickb@dickb.com; http//www.dickb.com
Gloria Deo

Fragment Number No. Eight

Alcoholics Anonymous and
Bill Wilson’s Bible Witnessing
By Dick B.
© 2009 Dick B. All rights reserved

The Bill Wilson that many do not know became an “evangelist” almost immediately after he was discharged from Towns Hospital, having had a spiritual experience. For example, Lois Wilson’s biographer wrote:

The doctor [Dr. Silkworth] always allowed Bill to share his God-experience with some patients, hoping somehow it might help. . . . Dr. Shoemaker [the Episcopal rector at Calvary Church] encouraged Bill to spread the message of change and spiritual recovery to others like himself. Bill took the preacher at his word. With Lois’s full support, he was soon walking through the gutters of the Bowery, into the nut ward at Bellevue Hospital, down the slimy corridors of fleabag hotels, and into the detox unit at Towns with a Bible under his arm. He was promising sobriety to every drunk he could corner, if they, like he, would only turn their lives over to God. [See William G. Borchert, The Lois Wilson Story: When Love Is Not Enough: A Biography of the Cofounder of Al-Anon (Center City, MN: Hazelden, 2005), 170.]

In fact, Rev. Sam Shoemaker wrote to Bill on January 22, 1935, commending Bill for his witnessing to Frederick E. Breithut who became known as the “chemistry professor.” Shoemaker wrote:

I hope you realize the guided-ness of your having known Jim Williams previously, as I understood you did, in business. His wife, Margaret, is fulltime in the Group and he has held out for a long while. You may be just the person that cracks the shell and brings him over. He drinks a lot and is desperately unhappy and inferior and needs what you have got for him. I am grateful for what you did for Breithut. [See Dick B., New Light on Alcoholism: God, Sam Shoemaker, and A.A., new rev. ed. (Kihei, HI: Paradise Research Publications, Inc., 1999), 531.]

And in a 1935 issue of Shoemaker’s parish newsletter, The Calvary Evangel, there was the announcement “that Frederick E. Breithut was confirmed on March 24, 1935, as a member of Calvary Episcopal Church, having previously been sponsored at a baptism on March 14, 1935, by William G. Wilson as his godfather, with Reverend Samuel Shoemaker performing the baptism.” [See Dick B., New Light on Alcoholism, 558]

The October 1929 issue of The Calvary Evangel contains a photograph of Sam Shoemaker and his staff in full vestment preceded by a member of the church who is carrying a cross. The photograph caption states, “On our way to rejoicing to Madison Square.” One church member in the 1928 photo was carrying a sign which stated, “Jesus Christ changes lives.” Other sign urged onlookers to “Come with us to Calvary Church.” L. Parks Shipley, Sr., a long-time Oxford Group activist, specifically recalled to me marching to such events in the 1930’s where the march would be followed by public witnessing at a park from a “soapbox.” Shipley said he believed Bill Wilson was among the “rejoicers” at one or more of these events during Wilson’s involvement with the Oxford Group. [See Dick B., New Light on Alcoholism, 556.]

Bill Wilson’s enthusiastic witnessing with the Bible and to the power of Jesus Christ bears a distinct relationship to what Dr. William D. Silkworth told Bill Wilson during his third visit as a patient to Towns Hospital prior to Bill’s getting sober. Dr. Silkworth’s biographer states that Bill had a discussion with Dr. Silkworth on the subject of the “Great Physician.” And then Bill reached the conclusion, “Yes, if there was any Great Physician that could cure the alcohol sickness, I’d better find him now, at once.” [See Dale Mitchel, Silkworth: The Little Doctor Who Loved Drunks: The Biography of William Duncan Silkworth, M.D. (Center City, MN: Hazelden, 2002), 44.] Silkworth’s biographer stated, “that it was Dr. Silkworth who used the term ‘The Great Physician’ to explain the need in recovery for a relationship with Jesus Christ.” Author Mitchel states further:

In the formation of AA, Wilson initially insisted on references to God and Jesus, as well as the Great Physician. [See Mitchel, Silkworth, 50.]

Wilson’s fervor as to the power of Jesus Christ is evidenced by his statement on page 191 of Alcoholics Anonymous (4th ed., 2001): “The Lord has cured me of this terrible disease and I just want to keep talking about it and telling people.”

dickb@dickb.com; http://dickb.com
Gloria Deo

Alcoholics Anonymous and the Lord Jesus Christ

A.A. History Fragment No. Four
Dick B.
© 2009 Dick B. All rights reserved

In 1934, just before he entered Towns Hospital for the last time as a patient, Alcoholics Anonymous Founder Bill Wilson went to the altar at Calvary Rescue Mission in New York. And, in the words of his wife Lois Wilson, “And he went up, and really, in very great sincerity, did hand over his life to Christ.” (“Lois Remembers: Searcy, Ebby, Bill & Early Days.” Recorded in Dallas, Texas, June 29 1973, Moore, OK: Sooner Cassette, Side One). In the earliest Akron A.A. days, Bill Wilson stated: “Henrietta [Dotson, wife of A.A. Number Three], the Lord has been so wonderful to me, curing me of this terrible disease that I just want to keep talking about it and telling people.” Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th ed., 191. On pages 216-217 of Alcoholics Anonymous, 3rd ed., a Cleveland A.A. newcomer asked Bill Wilson what it was “that worked so many wonders” and said, “hanging over the mantel was a picture of Gethsemane and Bill pointed to it and said, ‘There it is’.” The picture was a painting of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36-39). In the pioneer A.A. Akron Fellowship, every member was required to accept Jesus Christ as his personal lord and saviour. This has been personally verified to me by the wife and writings of Clarence H. Snyder; the recorded remarks of oldtimer J. D. Holmes, and my telephone conversations with oldtimers Ed Andy and Larry Bauer. For many of the specific details about early Alcoholics Anonymous and the Lord Jesus Christ, see Dick B., The Conversion of Bill W.: More on the Creator’s Role in Early A.A. http://dickb.com/conversion.shtml, and Dr. Bob of Alcoholics Anonymous: His Excellent Training in the Good Book as a Youngster in Vermont

http://dickb.com/drbobofaa.shtml

Alcoholics Anonymous and the Creator Yahweh

A.A. History Fragment No. Three
Dick B.
© 2009 Dick B. All rights reserved

In A.A.’s basic text, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alcoholics Anonymous Cofounder referred to Yahweh’s title as “Creator” twelve times. 4th ed., 13, 25, 28, 56, 68, 72, 75, 76, 80, 83, 158, 161. Bill spoke frequently about establishing a relationship with the Creator and even addressed his suggested Seventh Step prayer to “My Creator.” King James Version biblical references to Yahweh, the Creator can be found in Genesis 1:1; Ecclesiastes 12:1; Isaiah 43:15; Romans 1:24; and 1 Peter 4:19. For further study of the subject, see Dick B., Turning Point: A History of Early A.A.’s Spiritual Roots and Successes, 157-159.

http://dickb.com/Turning.shml