Monday, November 16, 2009

One Day at a Time

One Day at a Time is one of the 'slogans' of AA. The minister from Hazeldon said that people come into recovery with their minds only 20 % in the present with 80% of the thoughts about the past, mostly resentments, and the future, mostly worries. Sometime in recovery the movement is towards a person being 80% in the day and only 10% in the past, memories, and 10% in the future, plans. One Day at a Time is the reminder that God gives us enough of whatever we need to get through one day. We can stay sober for a day. Thinking about a lifetime or even months or weeks or days can be overwhelming. And yet those are 'constructs'. What is real is now. It's called the present because it's a gift. It's also where God is. St. Augustine wrote considerably about time. God is omniscient. Time is indeed a construct of our bimodal brain. Eternity and now are dual sides of the same concept. Yet we don't understand the stellate reality of multidimensional possibility but instead think in limitted linear processing denying the possibility of God's grace or God's direct intervention. What we believe is what we see. The brain begins life growing in multitudes of branches till it begins to loses branches as possibilities are used up and the choices in life are reduced by previous choices.

Al said, "a guy told me I was pushing his buttons so I asked him why he was wearing the buttons."

Now alot of what one learns in AA is at first applicable to the problem of stopping drinking. Yet after that the lessons are applicable to many day to day realities.

I didn't drive my truck to work today. After the cold shower I was really running late. I'd not factored in the time for dipping one's numbing head with the retracting skin and the aching neck in and out of the freezing water, the dance one does to get wet all over but not be touched by the freezing water and the rubbing and massaging that followed to get blood back into limbs. Hypothermia slows you down as well. So running late I opted to take the motorcycle. It was miserable. Curtains of rain obscuring the streets with puddles where hippos were bathing and trucks dissappeared in. I was wearing half boots and rain gear. There's a reason for full boots on a motorcycle. My left dayton became merely a bucket after the first puddle. The leather gloves sucked up the rain and thereafter refused to keep the warmth in and cold out. Other than hand and foot frostbite I was fine. Work was a joy in comparison.

It made for a long day. I 'm not fond of Mondays some days, usually on Mondays. Tuesdays I usually look back on Monday and have less negative feelings for it. If it didn't come after the weekend and came on Friday I'd probably feel towards Mondays the way I feel towards Fridays.

One day at a time.

The ride home was gruelling. Dark colder and wetter with more rain on the road and in the air. Traffic altered by the various drugs that are ubiquitous among Vancouver drivers. The chaos and road rage and early sleepers suddenly disrupting traffic. Alot of excitement on a motorcycle in VAncouver in the winter rain. A lot of excitement.

But I'd called the plumber. I talked to Julia at Stevens Plumbing on the North Shore and learned that lots of others were having plumbing problems. The rains bringing glory to the name of plumbers. Heat being desirous by others than myself.

I imagined that sailing to the islands for a few days was still going to be possible. I even contacted a friend in the north about a weekend of hunting before the season ends. A friend hasn't got a deer yet and wants some company. I imagine a motel with hot showers. Hunting looks more attractive than home. Maybe people used to like to go to work because the work world had indoor heating and functional plumbing. The ethnocentricity of historians might well have projected all manner of modern day viruses on our forefathers who may well have considered the workplace superior to home. I know men used to say they liked going to work to get away from the women and children. Women tell me they like work as a way of getting away from the kids at times. I like the hot water in the bathroom sink and the flush toilet.

One day at a time.ell

Eventually soaking and cold I got home and watched Whoopi Goldberg on rabbbit ear tv telling why horror movies don't have many black people getting eatten.

There were moments when I looked sideways at self pity. I was thankful for the work and sense of purpose I had from doing my bit. I got out of bed and made it through even more than the usual resistance to positive action, dressing, brushing teeth and such. I actually made it through the day.

Won ton soup was really fine. Peanut butter sandwiches and coca cola at home. The cat. Hope for the future. Visions of a tele transporting star trek plumber.

So I thought of "one day at a time" and realized that often in this move I've thought about that as I thought about crossing an ocean one day at a time and got through so many stresses just doing the 'next right thing' and paying attention to what I had to do right in front of me.

In the end it's a good day. God is great. The cat is well. It's warm and cozy. There's less chaos and more stuff is stowed. I had no laptop this morning because of a trojan virus getting through my Norton as it had failed to upgrade on Friday. Yet by the end of the day the incredible tech had come and solved the computer problem so that tomorrow I can look forward to one less glych.

There's always something But when God closes the door he opens a window and if I'm paying attention I can see the crack in the wall that lets the love in. Besides I only have to get through today. Tomorrow is only a dream until it comes.

One day at a Time.

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