Resolute Willpower

December 31st, the time for resolutions.
At least until January 10 or before
when most of them have fallen by the wayside.
The problem is not the intentions,
the resolve. The problem for me
is reliance on willpower, which for the big one,
the problem that wrecked my life,
was not mine to have. I am powerless over food,
my whole life unmanageable because of it.
And willpower helps not one iota. 
But there is help dished out in twelve steps,
and with those steps I have no need for willpower
for I'm not in charge. I have another power,
greater than I, who can when my willpower
fizzles out.

Pain Pushes

Pain pushes until vision pulls. ~ Michael Beckwith

How do we keep on keeping on
when we feel as though we've held on
until the end of the rope -
the frayed ends of the end of the rope -
are all we can grasp, all we can hold,
all we have between us and despair, disaster,
doom? We can do it because we've been
to the edge, the medieval edge of the earth,
where "Here there be dragons."
We've known the pain. We've held on to pain
because that's all we can grasp, the tattered ends.
And then we found these rooms, these people,
who were once as we, who know those raggedy ropes
but who held them long enough, well enough,
to find the beyond, to learn not to fear dragons
but to hold onto hope, to find the vision
and the rope that pulls us away from the dragons
and to the vision, to the peace, to the joy, to life.

The Dog Wants Out

You could set a clock by him,

he climbs down from his chair

and nuzzles me. Okay, I say,

and grab my robe as I lurch 

toward the back door. Five o'clock.

The alarm will ring in half an hour.

I've things to do, a big day ahead.

A tough day. And I can't go back to sleep...

well, I could, but I'd suffer for it.

It's quiet, the house asleep.

I said I'd start meditation.

I've said so every day this week

and more before, but I don't have time.

It's five o'clock. The alarm won't ring

for half an hour. I get up, move to my chair.

Okay, God. I did my part. Now talk to me.

Please?

A Great Hunger

Prince Feisal: The English have a great hunger for desolate places. ~ Lawrence of Arabia

A great hunger. That's compulsion,
whether eating (having nothing to do
with nutritional needs) or drinking,
gambling or drugging, shopping
or controlling...compulsion,
the great hunger. But hunger
can be positive, a goal, a desire,
a dream. It just depends
whether it be a millstone
around your neck
or a leash, a lead,
a tie to that which attracts,
that which beckons.
A great hunger for desolate places?
How much better one for locales
and points we long to attain.

Self-Flagellation

I declare myself hopeless,
a failure, unable to function.
I don't want to rise from this chair,
to move into society, to do chores,
to see people, to fit into society.
I look back to the past, to the good,
to the glance I had into promise,
into fitting, into finding my place.
I remember then, recall the peace,
the hope. But I've fallen from grace,
have strayed, am back as hopeless,
as wretched as before – but more so,
for I can remember the peace, the hope.
I despair. I bewail, I lament, I give up.
I call on you for aid and on your advice
when I find it different from the consoling,
from the assurance I'm doing better
than I believe, then it feels, then the evidence...
when I hear that I declare your abandonment,
your leaving me, your letting me sink.
I refuse to do as you say. Instead I remain
bogged in, defeated, stuck to this chair
and refusing to consider your advice,
trust myself further into the mire.
No thinks. I'll stay here and mourn
my lack of support from you and your ilk.

After

After the tree, the gathering, the love.
After the rekindling of memories,
reignition of rivalries, arousing of animosity,
remembrance of wrongs.
After the gluttony, the overindulgence,
the use of alcohol or substances to make tolerable,
after the attempts to bury the feelings,
to survive, to live through.
After the day when all was right
and tomorrow could only be a disappointment
or a day when the worst came to mind,
the day seemed intolerable, the hours endless.
After. There is after. There is the next day.
There is the only day you have, today.
There is opportunity. There is love.
There is life. There is hope.
There is life.
After.

The Innkeeper's Christmas Eve

Twas the night before Christmas, and all up and down
there were bone-weary travelers in Bethlehem town.
The stern edict had gone out from Caesar himself,
each man should return now to pay from his wealth.

To their ancestors' hometown they each must now go
to pay taxes and tribute – all men, high and low.
The descendants of David were gathering here
in the village of Bethlehem; rooms were quite dear.

It was late in the evening by light of the moon
when a man known as Joseph asked me for a room.
“I'm so sorry," I told him, "My inn is so crammed
’tween the mats and the bedding you can't lay a lamb."

Then he mentioned his wife, said the room was for her,
and he asked me to help him, “I beg of you, sir.”
I told him I'd let all the rooms – even mine –
Then abruptly I started - the barn would do fine!

You'd have thought I had offered a fine, regal house.
He fashioned a place for her bed near the cows,
then led her to lie in the haphazard bed
and bundled his cloak to place under her head.

I walked down the path to my own crowded dwelling
but paused when I fancied a melody swelling.
"Not so," I decided, and quickened my step.
"It's that glow on their faces I cannot forget."

While I stood at the doorway to gather my thoughts
and go into the inn filled with people and cots
something flashed in the sky then grew bright 'til it shone -
There! A brilliant new star lit the animals' home.

Right there in the doorway, my soul filled with peace,
And I felt such a wonderful rush of relief.
I turned toward the hill and the manger aglow.
Such a radiance filled the whole valley below

where a small band of shepherds stood huddled in fear
as they stared toward the sky and the Being up there.
Now I never had seen here on earth or up high
any angels, but there was one up in the sky.

The glory of God filled the sky with bright light.
It seemed as I looked to be day and not night.
Then he said to the shepherds who quaked with their fear,
"Don't be scared. I have great news that you'll want to hear.

For not only to you but to all of the earth
I bring news of great joy in the form of a birth.
For the Christ child you wait for is born here tonight
and he lies in that barn where the star's shining bright.

There his mother has wrapped him in pieces of cloth
and she's laid him to sleep in a cow's eating trough."
In a flash appeared hundreds of angels with him
And the heavens were filled with the strains of a hymn:

"Now to God be the glory, on earth be my peace,
and may feelings of malice throughout the world cease."
Just as quick as they'd come all those angels were gone
and the shepherds stood wondering 'til one said, "Come on.

Let's go see what the angels have told us about –
come along, time's a'wasting." And he started out.
All the others soon followed to where the star shone,
after leaving the sheep in the valley alone.

They all came to my manger and stooped to go in
to the once humble place and the glory within.
There Joseph was standing by Mary, his wife,
who was stroking the child that first night of his life.

And the song of the angels again softly rang
as we knelt to the King, he whose birth they proclaimed.
Then I heard the dear mother in voice, oh, so slight,
"A glad CHRISTmas to all on this most holy night."

The Newcomer

I heard her sobbing through an open window,
blowing her nose. She must have stayed there
close to ten minutes, her sobs dying as she began
the steady chant sotto voce, I have to go, I have to go,
I promised, he'll ask what happened, I have to go.
Then she pushed open the old door the smallest crack,

so narrow the squeak we laugh at every week

hushed its welcome. I smelled her as she sat

beside me. Well, I smelled the apple fritters
she'd eaten recently. You don't think you could tell?

Maybe not. But you'll have to remember,

I earned a Ph.D. in all things apple fritter.

She'd dried her eyes but the redness, the puffs,

her splotched neck all told of the turmoil,
the embarrassment, the fear. She sat down

and as she did passed gas. I remember that...

not being able to move without the sound,

the smell. She sat and broke wind again

and none of us stopped our conversations,

we ignored it and welcomed her. She never spoke,

just shook her head when asked her name.

She would have bolted at the end but I grabbed

her icy hand and held it for the prayer.

I pulled out my picture, showing me bulldozer big

and told her, Welcome Home.

The Power to Destroy Me

In this way, I admit to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of what’s wrong with me today. When I stop denying the truth, it loses its power to destroy me. ~ Voices of Recovery (Kindle Locations 4035-4036)

How can the truth destroy me?
Oh, wow, let me count the ways.
The truth can destroy me
when I lie to myself, to others,
to the whole wide world
to make myself look good...
or at least presentable,
for all my life I've known to the bones
I cannot look good if you really see me.
But if I act like a success I can seem to be.
But I know in my bones the truth.
Then, when I quit the lies to you,
the ones I don't tell but let you believe,
the lies to myself, the fears that cause lies...
Then, when I quit, the truth changes, 
becomes empowered...
But truth already had power. 
The power to show who I really was.
Does truth lose its power 
when I stop denying it?
No. Then the power shifts 
as I go with the flow of the truth
and ride the current to recovery.

No Reason to Worry

There's no reason to worry about something you're already going to do. ~ a friend's therapist

Make up your mind. Then what?
Are you going to dwell on it,
reassess the decision? Mull over options?
Are you experiencing guilt knowing
the decision is not your best choice,
your wisest action, who you want to be?
What are your real options?
You can prepare to do it as well as you can,
accept it as inevitable, think what you might learn,
look for efficiency and purposefulness
to achieve it, reassess the decision
and choose more wisely.
Just don't worry. Don't give way to anxiety,
dwell on expected difficulties or troubles.
Like Yoda would tell you, Do. Or do not.
There is no try.

Meaningless Activities

Tonight I am withdrawing into senseless activity. Why? What are my feelings? ANGER—I fear anger because I have used it to hurt others and myself. It is safer to hide it in some activity. ~ Voices of Recovery (Kindle Locations 3949-3951).

Do I do meaningless activities
because of anger? This woman says yes.
For her, at least, that's the answer.
What say I? Is it anger? Not really.
That doesn't feel right. Boredom,
evasion of chores that take prep,
time, concentration. I call it diversion,
doing something meaningless
while the poem, the project,
the activity du jour simmers 
on the back burner. Sometimes
it's anger, sometimes it's fear.
Sometimes I'm just so tired
nothing else is worth doing
because I can't make a mess
with the meaningless games. 
And as long and I do the rest,
while I get the real work done,
the meaningless activity
holds real meaning.

It's a Habit

What is a habit?  A settled, regular tendency...
a practice, especially one hard to give up...
A habit is the me I don't like...
well, except for the good ones,
the repetition that gets easier,
more natural, more comfortable,
more admirable...even by me!
I can like what I do day after day,
time after time, the comfortable habits
the ones that feel good. My reminder pops up
today, tomorrow, the next day, the next,
telling me to take my pills, to write gratitudes.
An alarm comes on reminding me to meditate,
The reminders help but don't always manage
to motivate me as they should. But one day,
some time, those desirable actions, too,
will become a path to wander past the border,
to jump the fence? transition...
they'll move from the want-to-be habits
to full-fledged ones, to the good kind
of habits, a settled, regular tendency,
a practice.

High School with Antlers

Emotions make up Christmas,
some wonderful, some lousy,
some cherished, some the stuff
nightmares are made of.
It's a time of vulnerability,
of triggers, of being around
behavior that made you who you are,
of people who can take you instantly
from a rational adult to a scared toddler.
Emotions make up Christmas. 
But when we are more than emotions,
when we see what's happening
and rise above it, when we choose
and that choice is the best we could make
we can experience the great, the loving,
the wondrous and love that toddler we were
and the adult we've become.

2,922

Twenty-nine hundred

twenty-two days...
Eight years since that day.
A sweet-roll, a cappuccino, 
A muttered comment to God, 
"This is stupid," and I had finished.
Given up. Surrendered.
Abandoned the idea
I might have willpower sufficient
to overcome my compulsion
to cram food into my mouth
adequate to block the fear, the anger, 
the self hatred, the despair.
Two-thousand nine hundred
twenty-two days of recovery, 
of surrender, of keeping coming back.
Eight years of one day at a time
learning how to live, to love, to let go, 
to let God.

Getting Rid of the Problem

When I stopped living in the problem and began living in the answer, the problem went away. ~ "Acceptance Was the Answer" story in Alcoholics Anonymous

The problem. For some, alcohol.
For others drugs, shopping, sex,
gambling, pills, tobacco. Food for me.
The problem became a problem
because at some point we learned
to garner contentment, "love,"
respect, comfort...something good
from that behavior. Yes, it's long since
lost the appeal, ceased to deliver,
become the problem, not the answer.
But we continue, trudging on,
with behavior long since turned
from beneficial to problematic.
But it's how we've learned 
to right the wrongs, even broken,
no longer working. But there's a way out
like a puzzle working when seeming
without solution. It's turning from that
to this, from death to live,
from addiction to usefulness,
from agony to ecstasy. And it's simple.
It's to begin to live the life we choose
and that we once chose fades away
leaving us living the answer.

The Soul Grows by Subtraction

Take away fear,

resentment, guilt.

Remove self-control

willfulness, pride.
Slough off hate,

gossip, prejudice,

jealousy, sloth,

hubris. Become ready

to have them all removed
and find life, soul,

hope and love
expanded exponentially

in the taking.

 

Include All Things

Because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Gratitude. The quality of being thankful. 
So what does quality mean?
The standard of something 
as measured against other things 
of a similar kind;
the degree of excellence.Are we comparing kinds of thankfulness
gauged by other sorts of appreciation?
So, gratitude compared to
run-of-the-mill acknowledged blessing?
But that's the nub, isn't it?
Are we grateful for only blessings?
Can we acknowledge good in miscues?
Glad the airline lost the luggage
because with the delay she could not
have gotten the bags to the hotel?
Seeing good in illness that brings to light
the things in life worth acknowledging?
Is the quality of being thankful
not the pausing to acknowledge events
but the celebration of all of them,
desired and feared?
All things move us to who we are
and deserve to be recognized,
approved, and left to a higher power 
to put them in their place
as we let our heart surge
for that power's presence in our lives.

Labor

Birthing is a process
inevitable for a new life,
necessary, though sometimes
surgery is involved,
sometimes just hard work.
But the difficulty, the tough time,
is obligatory to reach the result.
And no matter how many women
swear there will be no more
when experiencing the event
most later recant, return.
But it is a process, an event,
a momentous transition
and birthing is necessary.

A new life through recovery
is a birthing process.
There's work involved,
pain to sustain, but
it's necessary
and the result
is well worth the pain!

David Rollins meets Grandmother.

Warp and Weft

Holding life together
once we've discovered
we can't, we lack power,
our lives unmanageable —
we grab hold of strings,
hang on to the rope's end,
try to rescue ourselves.
Sometimes we get the food,
try the weigh-and-pay
with public weighing,
with praise, with tokens,
with manipulation.
Or we accept we'll never
ever lose the weight,
we'll be big and beautiful,
proud, defiant...pretend.
Or starve ourselves,
regurgitate all nutrients,
exercise for hours on end.
But it won't hold together,
not for long.

We need a whole plan,
to address it all,
needs spiritual, emotional
physical. We find a way,
set out twelve principles,
weave in folks who know us,
tighten the pattern with tools,
act as if when we don't understand —
then look back
and the strings aren't single,
the strength exceeds all strands
and the fabric of our lives
can stand all tests.

If...

If I realize my life
is beyond management
and I'm powerless
over food, over everything...
If I come to believe
a greater power can make me sane...
If I decide to turn over my life
and my will over to that power...
If I honestly examine my life,
my resentments, my fears…
If I admit to myself, to my god
and to someone else the nature,
the patterns of my life…
If I am ready for defects
to be abandoned, if I can ask
honestly, humbly for them to be…
If I sort out amends then make them…
If I continue to do these steps daily,
asking for guidance, surrendering,
obeying…
If I work these steps and tell others of them
then my life will become so awesome
it's one I enjoy the privilege of living.

Generating Symptoms

I eat for very good reasons
and I can clearly justify each bite.
I am a rational person, cognizant,
aware, perceptive. Should I need
a Blizzard or an apple fritter
my adroit mind can fabricate
sagacious premises to expound
that need, to vindicate the craving,
to argue my case. Buy even with
such sagacity the treat still violates
the premises of my food plan
and the preposterous exposition
changes not one darned thing.

Read the chapter!

The Question

The question is, who do you want to be? ~ Glenn Beck

Temptation. A desire 
to do something, 
especially something wrong
something unwise.
An urge, an impulse,
an itch, an inclination.
Desire is such a weak word.
Longing, craving, hankering,
hunger! We've spent our lives
rationalizing, excusing, 
justifying, defending behavior
knowing it's the wrong move,
that we're acting against 
our own best thoughts,
our plans, our promises,
our vows. And asked why not
we know answers but they flee,
when urged to act as we would not
we want so badly to yield.
But sometimes the only hope
to act as we know we should
is to back up, look at the issue,
ask "Who do I want to be?"
and choose the path 
we wish we would.

Sabotage

I don't have to sabotage myself and then say f-it and throw in the towel. ~ Julie 

Masters of manipulation,
that's my crowd. 
No hard and fast rules,
just good sense, right choices.
But with no rules,
who says what's right?
When I get over my head
I can declare I've found the exception,
the reason I no longer have to try,
and I can fail. I won't say
I'm going to fail, just do it,
and when I have, 
then what's the use?
It's obvious I can't stay the course.
So I'll fall into the food
and make a fool of myself
and maybe
someday
I'll come to my senses
and come back,
contrite.

Resentment

Not an ounce of pain where there was once devastation! I was just moved with compassion. I could not believe what I was feeling/experiencing! Not only was this woman not able to hurt me, I found that my heart is full of love for her. I never saw that coming! ~ Leah Isanangel

When you make a Fourth Step list
there are resentments,
then there are RESENTMENTS!
Some people can never be forgiven,
but we go through the process,
write what they did trying not to use
a whole notebook for that one
then in what way it hurt us
then...our part. For these giant ones
it feels like our part is tiny to their huge
but we write it out, tell someone else
(and God, but for these we've ranted 
to God lots and lots of times before)
and let the process work. 
Amends may come into it,
but for me not much.
For one of mine I stated in public
my indebtedness to her.
For another I figured out my motives,
knew I'd tried to use her
but not as wickedly as she used me.
No amends to her felt necessary.
For a third we talked —
twenty years later —
about her abysmal conduct.
She didn't remember
and by then I didn't care...
had actually sought her out
to pay her to do a service for me.
The miracle of the process
is not that the people change.
No, the miracle is we change
as we work the process.
I still may never trust them,
may never feel close, 
but they can't hurt me
and I can live next to them
saturated in peace.

We Never Recover from Being Human

Would that I never failed
to do the right thing,
to make the wisest choice.

Would that I had resources —
emotional, financial, physical —
to do for others what needs doing.

Would that I understood
all the repercussions of each act
I consider, that I had courage to decline.

Would that I were the person I wish to be
each day, every day, in every situation,
with people I know well and strangers...

But I don't. And I cannot expect to.
For I am human, and as much as I improve
by working recovery, I never recover
from being human.

The source of the title quote is OA Speaker Janice S. from Houma, Louisiana. Get her tapes at xa-speakers.org.

Struck Pure

Waiting to be struck pure from above ~ Miranda O'D

All it takes is surrender, yes?
I've done that, implored
not my will but yours,prayed the seventh step,
said I was ready, go ahead,
take my defects.
Admitted I was powerless.
I can do nothing else,
right? No. 
That's not how it works.
We're not spectators
in the bleachers
but players on the field
or waiting on the bench
ready to go in and do
what we're told to do,
the next right thing.
We're not the general
but the privates,
counting on the promises
contingent on our compliance.
We won't be struck pure
though purity is the result.

When, Then

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be. ~ Lao Tzu

It's hard to hold open a door
as you move to the next,
to keep the old options open
when seeking the new.

It's hard to remain constant
as you become someone else,
to have the traits you replace
while substituting others.

When I release the crutches
that have served me so long
only then can I find the strength
to set aside false hope, be renewed.

Two Eyes, Two Ears

I'm trying to look in the mirror each day and tell myself twenty-five good things about myself, and the first day I could only do five and most of those were like "two eyes, two ears" and such. ~ Alyson

Your eyes are such a vibrant color.
I love your hair, so soft, so luscious.
That's a beautiful dress, and you wear it well.
Your voice! You could get a contract in Nashville!
It's easy to see what's good, what's beautiful,
what delights...as long as we're talking to others.
But the words don't flow so easily as we consider
our own face, even if we see traits as desirable
in our kin, our own just like it. But we look at us.
What do you have to say to the face in the mirror?
Can you love that person as much
as you care for a stranger on the street?

The Wine Glass

There's a wine glass on the table
to the right of my plate, presumed mine,
a part of the place setting, a formal table.
There's a wine glass on the table,
my wine glass. It's assigned to me, but more...
it calls my name. The servers don't care.
I can take it as they serve or wave them off.
It's not that I can't drink just a little,
that I'm addicted to it or anything.
It's not on my food plan just because

It's not on my food plan because
when I drink a little I get started eating
and I eat and eat and take all the desserts,
falling way back into the food.

There's a wine glass on my table.

It's not that I deserve to have the wine,
that I have earned it by following my plan.
It's that I'm looking at the "deserving"
in taking things I don't need
and not in turning down those items
that pull me into obsession.
There's a wine glass on the table.
But I don't need to use it.

God-Approved Food

Church suppers, a competition
to bring the most scrumptious food,
the stickiest candied anything,
the salads most loaded in dressings
and fats. And at the church,
blessed by the priest or pastor,
certainly God-approved. Who could decline?
You can. Who approved the food?
Certainly God loves the folks who did,
but God didn't choose that food for me.God tells me what I should eat,
what's good for me, what makes me healthy.
He tells me through what it does to me,
to my body, to my emotions, to my life.
I heard a friend tell recently of a meal
for his ministry, when he was doing right,
but the food planned and prepared
was nowhere near his food plan,
and an angel in street clothes prepared
for him a meal so he could continue to serve.
God tells me what to eat. Through others
at times, through professionals, through reasoning
when based on surrender. God approves all food
but I need to eat only what he approves for me.

Who I Want to Be

She is who I want to be
an adventurer, a nomad,
opening each day of life
like a blank page to be filled. ~ June Dowis

Each day is the first day of the rest of life.
Of course, it's true. A truism. A trite truth.
But how many days do we act as though
we believe it's true? Are we stuck
in yesterday? Can we really be a nomad today?
Can we live the life of an adventurer?
If we really wanted to, could we? Would we?

I claimed for years I didn't go out at night
because of another's wishes, that I didn't 
attend events, that I went to no movies.
Then that person was not around
and I still didn't. I had lied to myself
and others for years, the blame elsewhere.

Responsibilities hold us in a pattern,
but only so tightly as imagination
lies dormant. Dreams can be reached
stretching past function. But only if we dream.
Only if we accept the consequences.
Only if we overcome fear. Then
I can really be who I want to be.

Do to Others

The Angel of St. Marye's Heights,
a youth wearing grey surveyed
a field of blue injured after the battle,
after a day lying injured, December,
thousands of men. Armed armies
faced each other, listening to misery,
fearful, avoiding adding theirs
to the bodies. Except one man.
Richard Kirkland, nineteen, scared,
stood facing the Northern Army
who faced the Confederates,
guns at the ready on both sides.
With them he listened to the cries
for a night and a day and wanted to help.
Unlike others, he did not yield to fear
but ventured into the carnage
bearing canteens of water, warm clothing,
blankets. The Yanks didn't fire;
the South had no need to return fire.
They watched as he ministered,
colorblind to uniforms,
helping each wounded soldier.
He had the fear, knew the danger.
He differed only in actions, in taking the step.
We can do that, not usually so obviously,
but we can confront our fear
and offer service. And doing so
we have our reward, knowing we did
the best, the most, we could do.

On the Day

On the day I called, you answered me,
you increased my strength of soul. ~ Psalms 138:3 (NRSV)

She was your mother, of course,

but did that make a difference?

I mean, of course it did, but still

you love us all, called us your family,

claim me these centuries later.

She asked you to fix the problem,

to do a favor for someone else,

not even for her but surely she knew

it was the first. Wine for a wedding.

Frivolous? Just a social nicety?

Why did she ask? But she did ask.

And I can ask, too. I'm shy,

nervous, feel undeserving.

But that's just me, not you.

You answer me, too.

On the day I get the nerve to ask.