IDAA Spokane 2025 - Harley Motorcycle Ride Vancouver to Princeton

I through the Cascades.  Departure was easy.  Loading the Harley Nighster Special Motorcycle was a non event since I was planning on staying in motels versus camping.  Just a bag of clothing, flash lights , can of oil, and the electronic, computer lap top and such I needed to maintain work for the week.  I’m going to the Spokane 2025 annual IDAA conference, I took my 28 year cake last week at Burnaby Fellowship. As George was recovering from cataract surgery Marty graciously gave me my cake. It’s definitely a milestone.  Then the International Conference of AA followed with the meetings in the Vancouver Convention Centre and the big meetings at the BC Place.  I’d last seen Paul McCartney there. The Delta Police Band had played the bagpipes for the Mull of Kintyne song when he was here, They opened for the ICAA.  Laura and I attended the Al Anon meeting and there with some 50,000 others at what the speakers called the ‘greatest 12 step call to Vancouver’.

Now I’n in ACE Hotel Princeton where I’ve stayed offten for Deer and Grouse Hunting on Copper Mountain.  It’s been a while since I’ve had the camper for a few years. Last years I was camped on Copper Mountain.  I didn’t get any deer but shot a few grouse to the delight of Madigan my grouse fetching cockapoo.

I left Madigan with Laura in the new Thor Hurricane Motorhome.  I missed the little guy but confess I’m glad for the break and thankful for Laura house and dog sitting.

The ride was a rush.  Not too much delay in Langley.  Wind Therapy all the way to Chilliwack. That’s when the traffic thinned out.  Chilliwack I stopped for gas and had a Red Bull.  I’d hoped to stop at Mountainview Harley for a brief visit but it was closed on Monday. I stopped next in Hope for a little container for fluids. I was going through the mountains and realized I’d forgotten my thermos.  Reading westerns this last week and thinking about horses and canteens in the desert.  The ride from Hope to Princeton is a hundred a fifty km but the Manning Park Resort is half way. It really was a great ride. Hot sunny, blue sky.  Winding rising road through evergreens along side the shallow river.  I fueled up at East Gate.  Then I was riding into Princeton coming on 6 pm having left Burnaby Vancouver at 1 30 pm.  I thought of continuing on to Osoyoos but was tired.  Weary indeed.  I’m not used to long rides yet.  

Great to check in. Nice room.  I walked down the Main Street but the town was closed.  The great outdoor store, the great Harware store, my favourite places, closed,  I did get some chicken deli and fruits at Save On Foods .  Back in my room at ACE I ate and watched the Calgary Stampede on tv.  Fond memories of going as a child with Dad and Mom and Ron when I was a kid.  Now I’m riding my iron horse across the country wearing a helmet rather than a white cowboy hate.

Thank you God. Thank you Jesus. Time to get showered , dressed and check the oil before heading south.  Thank you Creator. Thank you Harley. 

ICAA 2025 Vancouver BC

I am grateful to be alive.  I’ve been attending the International Conference of AA 2025 at the Vancouver Convention Centre and BC Place.  

I rode my Harley down Thursday to register.  It was great seeing Andrew and Barb.  Beautiful setting.  Vancouver Harbour near Stanley Park where I’d moored my liveaboard sailboat off and on over the years.  The Harbor Air float planes were taking off and landing.  A whole lot of joyful sober people.  I’d parked in the Convention Centre West underground and joined the throngs.  Sunshine and gratitude.  I was able to get registered and claim my badge at BC Place. Mission accomplished.  I was a part of.  

Madeleine had texted me the time and place of the cyber docs meetings.  She’d climbed the Grouse Grind.  Something we did 25 years ago. Amazing person.   I’m feeling all the traumatized arthritis of acquired injuries of multiple crashes, planes, motorcycle, cars and trucks.  I’m thankful to be mobile and still slowly recovering from the fall and resentment in Edinburgh.  

It was so good to be among Cyberdocs in the flesh,  Dave of Akron and others,  Dave of Brandon. Herb and his wife.  I knew the faces and the hearts.  Met Wendy.  Language of the hearts,  People sharing experience, strength and hope.  I’m amazed that the time has passed. I’m still practicing spiritual principle.  There’s 40,000 to 50,000 here.  

I enjoyed the meetings in the morning.  Enjoyed sharing but mostly listening.  Storytelling.  The oldest communications of hope.  Design for living,  What worked for me.  Suggestions.  Kindness.  Singleness of purpose.  Helping the alcoholic who still suffers.  Service is filling a chair as I’ve done.,

Laura joined me at night for the BC Place opening ceremony with the Delta Police Band playing Paul McCartney’s song on bagpipes,  Shawn sang Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah,  The natives drummed and danced.  There were announcements and three speakers shared their journey into and out of alcoholism.  A black Muslim lesbian, a Finish banker and a Canadian Métis hair stylist.  I teared up listening to the horror and resilience.  Then the gratitude.  The serenity prarer and cheers.  The flag ceremony with presentations from so many countries.  Canada and USA sharing the stage.  A marvellous time.  

It was good to be sober driving home and wondering about what could have been and what a glorious path this journey has taken thanks to joining the ‘last club on the block’.  We cleaned up nicely tonight.  

Thank you God.  Thank you Higher Poweer.

28 years

I took my cake at the Burnaby Men’s Group last night..  George had cataracts surgery so couldn’t make it. Marty graciously agreed to give me my cake and medallion instead. It’s all a huge honor to me.  I really admire George and Marty.  Marty kindly referred to my being a respected doctor and spoke to that moment when I sought help as we all must do. I was reminded of the sign at the Toronto IDAA , ‘we are not alone’.  It was only months before I’d thought myself outside the love of God which is arrogance of a special kind.

Now thanks to this program I’ve known Hank, Art, Archie, Bernie, Terry, Dave, Graham, Don, George and a whole group of intelligent beautiful women and friends. It was fun, then fun and trouble and finally just trouble. Only looking back could I see how the disease permeated my life contributing to the choices of work and wives and friends.  There was such disorder and chaos back then ,  Yes I sought to know God and serve but in my recreational binges like a soldier on leave I was the ultimate narcissistic hedonist.  This progressed to dominate my life till one day I stopped.  

We joke and say you can get off the elevator anywhere. You don’t have to go to the sub basement.  Graham said, some people run with the cheetahs and some people rune with the turkeys. I’d certainly run with the turkeys. I had low friends in low and high places..  And then I was out 

I’m glad I survived the treatment. I’m glad I remained in medicine.  I’m very grateful for the journey that took off and contained after I cleaned up the wreckage of my past.  How hard to realize the ‘promises’ came true when I had thought they were beyond mine,  Luke 15.  And that great song I was lost and now I’m found.  

ODAAT

Now another year is past.

I’m very thankful.  Dean said I was inspiring and Neil was a delight. Mario and Jack and Tom and so many others were there sharing and smiling.  It was so good to be apart of.  I really liked Manny.  We’d shared this journey together taking our cakes at different years listening to each others stories. I liked especially that he said he was working on doing nothing. Turning our will and our lives over to God. Walking upright and hoping to soar on eagles angel wings rather than crawling on our bellies.  The caterpillar butterfly transformation, 

The realization that we are together Where two or more are gathered together there too am I.  

Thank you God.  Thank you for my sobriety.  Now this next week I’ll be at the WDIR meeting on line and the International AA meeting and then the Spokane IDAA meeting.  Such good to look forward too.

I succeeded this morning in getting Madigan to have his worm medicine by giving him half a bin of Hagen Daz Vanilla Ice Cream to entice him to stop spitting them out.  Thank you Jesus  Agreat start to the day!

25

It’s a gratitude day. 25 years clean and sober.  I take my cake this coming week at my home group Burnaby Men’s with George insisting he’ll bring the cake.  I joke and say we celebrate the sacraments of cake and coffee of Bill and Bob.  It’s a long fast.  Thankfully the hang over goes in weeks to months though we clean up the ‘wreckage of the past’ for sometimes years’, making amends and just living sober.  

I was a binge drinker . Much of my life was intensely dedicated but I was attracted to the ‘chaos’.  I married women who shared my pleasures.  My family was orderly by comparison.  So much alcohol and mental illness with those I was attracted to or what I attracted.  I wasn’t called ‘Wild Bill’ because I was tame.  Always the first to dance on tables and do anything on a dare.  

I remember at Homewood Treatment Centre, Graeme Cunningham saying to me ‘some people run with the cheetah’s and some people run with the turkeys, you’ve been running with the turkeys’.  My dad called them ‘fair weather friends’.  He was what men called a ‘straight shooter’.  I regret that I didn’t listen more to him.  He transformed from the stupidest man I knew as a genius to the greatest man I knew as an adult.

When I stopped drinking, smoking tobacco and cannabis, so much of that life paled. We joke and say an alcoholic 10 is a  4 with a 6 pack.  Just so much of what people do when they’re drinking has no appeal sober. Like staying up late. I love the dawn now.  I love waking refreshed and alert. I can’t imagine why I would suffer a hangover and then go back and do it again.  

I can’t imagine today ‘not living life on life’s terms’.  I don’t want to be ‘dope dumb’ on marijuana joking about how stupid we talk even if it is like taking valium and relaxing. I don’t want to knee jerk emotions of alcohol and I never want the lack of peace of mind or the ability to appreciate a natural high.  Jesus said we must be like children again to enter heaven.  I remember thinking pot was coming out of my fat cells when I regained the natural love of life and joy de vivre. 

 Do you now remember the joyful times of childhood? a celebrity friend in recovery said to me.  

Suddenly I remembered myself playing baseball in a radiant green park with happy people and a glorious sun.  When we are depressed we remember depression because we are in the valley of our minds. Only on the peaks can we see all the joy of the truly high places as well as the lows and valleys of life.  Drugs and alcohol are depressing.

Asked to remember all the things in life I was proud of and would like to be remembered for I realized that the vast majority of them occurred sober, family and church and childhood, hunting and fishing, the great romances, provincial gymnastic and volleyball competitions,  dance training and competitions, theatre performances,  cycling across Europe, study of history and literature, studying  chemistry and anatomy, medical school training, working as a country gp, delivering babies, flying doctor through the sub arctic, residency training in community medicine and psychiatry. Then psychiatry and another divorce and alcohol abuse. Then work continued but my recreation increasingly was associated cigarettes, reefers and wine.  I’d gone camping to tent and fish but now looked forward to drinking a bottle of wine and smoking a joint around the fire. There was a shift.

At first it’s fun , then it’s fun and trouble, then it’s trouble..  I remember it being trouble sailing down to Mexico and then in Mexico, Instead of sailing around the world my partner and I stayed in margaritaville.  There were good times.  Sailing was spectacular.  Playing blues in the band was fun. Spear fishing and snorkelling and sun was great but it was going nowhere . When we came home she wouldn’t get help.  I didn’t want to be around her friends or my friends that drank and drugged. I’d liked her because she had her own group of dealers and prayers . Her’s tended to have university degrees but were no less ‘friends in high places and low places’ while I had friends who were interesting the sober ones in high place and the ones who crank and did dope professionals and bikers and rural.  

She would get so impaired she couldn’t work. I’d party on the weekend but I’d go to work and I was seeking help seeing professionals and told that my problems wasn’t the joint or wine I drank but the impaired wife doing cocaine. The lying and destruction increased . My unforgettable line was , “I can go to work and help. a hundred people or stay home and help one person. I can’t do both.”  I’d been years of covering for her.  I was so tired of being told a man would handle his wife. She was not a pretty site drunk and stoned though we’d both been younger. We were passed the magic forty year old place where you’re expect to be able to get your act together.  She lied and lied and lied.  It was impossible.  I never liked cocaine but she sure did.  I didn’t like the people around cocaine either. I’d liked the hippy wine and reefer world but this cocaine crowd was mean. My former friends who had fallen to cocaine were the same.  We joke that an alcoholic will steal your wallet but an addict will not only steal your wallet they’re help you look for it.

I just couldn’t carry on. I was working harder than I’d ever trying to cover for her when she suddenly refused to get out of bed forever or see a doctor. I knew this couldn’t go on.  She’d had a grow operation and with friends of her. She’d moved all the money I made into her accounts except for what required my signature.  In the end it was apparent that she’d been financially scheming for a year.  I remember thinking I’m trying to make this work and she’s been stabbing me in the back.  Separation and divorce.  The times she almost killed me and the times drunk when she almost killed us both. I saved our lives so many times, the worst being when I went off the bow wave of a tanker coming out of San Francisco harbour in the fog having again messed up the radar and lied when I asked if she’d touched it.  

I don’t want to ever be back in a relationship with someone drunk and stoned. I don’t want to ever be drunk and stoned again. I can see her behaviour clearly but only know that I was a mirror. I loved in AA the ‘restore us to saniety’ clause. I never realized how insane I was but I certainly saw how insane she was, yet I was with her and our friends were too. It was a bad sit com, something out of a Kardasian bizarro world.

I remember thinking that my life had gone wrong when I was sexually abused by my professor, when I was a psychiatry resident, when I committed adultery when I saw so much learning to understand the insane.  I thought when was my life right and remembered church and prayer and meditation. I was going to return to Winnipeg to talk to the people there I knew and trusted.  I was going to leave psychiatry and maybe go back to being a country doctor or just get out of medicine all together.  The psychiatrists I knew were drunks and addicts and as I learned the depths of my wife’s deceit and even the deceit of my therapist and authorities in general I became paranoid.  My fair weather friends stole from me as did my ex wife. Manly I’d taken nothing of hers and we’d lived on my income as most of our times she’d been a student and took her own income.  I remember thinking that as a man I was powerless and that maybe I could become a woman because I was really tired of having all the responsibility and accountability, all the blame and none of the praise.  I was utterly confused too. I’d spent 20 years with women to have a family but after marriage I learned they didn’t want children.  They wanted a daddy.  Their fathers were alcoholic or absent.  But God were they beautiful, brilliant and fun. I forfeited joy and peace for fun and drama. Not a bad trade when young but time marches on.  

I had been in church as a boy with my brother and mother and father and that was the oasis I aimed for. A Christian friend asked if he could help and offered to rent me his trailer . He didn’t smoke dope and rarely drank.  I returned to church.  She’d refused to go. In psyhiatriy the psychoanalytic professors hearing I meditated as a disciple of Paramahansa Yogananda and a follower of Christian Dr. Carl Ridd I was summarily told that meditation was harmful and must stop and that if I wished to continue my training with these two psychiatrists I had to leave community medicine and stop taking Christian studies courses while in residency.  I had left surgery and family medicine and now was told if I wanted to be a psychiatrist I needed to be a devotee of the megalomaniac analyst I who I frankly admired.  Psychiatrists then were a weird mix, mensch’s and devils.  All were charming and highly skilled. We learned from the psychopaths , narcissists and borderlines. We walk miles in their moccasins and they get under our skin. We are as much artists of the mind as scientists. I was naive and vulnerble.  I was also obedient.  Thise who rise high in systems much have this trait of obedience as the rebels get pruned.  Systems are like military organizations.  They’re like religious organizations.  The abuse of power is ubiquitous.  

I was willing to stay a doctor sober and clean. I was encouraged to go to AA and asked my friend, Kirk, who I trusted if he trusted AA. Kirk and I and been spiritual disciples our whole live, he a follower of Prem and me a Christian doctor who’d taken a detour in better living with chemistry, the tantra yoga,Daost path.  

“I think AA is a good group. I know people who belong and they’ve done well.  I think it’s good that you’ve stopped drugs and alcohol.  I didn’t think that was making you happy. I’m sorry that you and your wife have separated but I never thought she and you were that compatible.  But yes I think AA is a good thing.”  

I’d stopped drinking and left the drug crowd and was detoxing on a hillside with my Bible and my shotgun. The bikers I’d been staying with who stole my money, possessions and vehicle were threatening to come by one night and kill me for the registration.  They never came by but I saw they’d sold my vehicle without registration. I learned that I obeyed laws but so many didn’t .I was so naive. I’d also have all these ‘god’ moments. Events were constantly synchronistic.  Good came to me. I was free of the baggage and suddenly out of the dark I was in the light and it was uncanny how my relationship with God restored. I’d actually thought I was beyond God’s love.  

Bernie showed up in his new truck, the ex wife had destroyed my truck, I was riding a bicycle American Express wanted to claim, my ex wife having with her lawyer and her millions used up all my money on lawyers who said ‘she and her lawyer are refusing to meet so they’re using seige techniques to destroy you and ruin you financially.’  I’d given the last of my money to the lawyer to free my accounts to pay the rent. I was getting charity and food from the church and Christian friends. I went to welfare and the woman screamed at me saying that a ‘doctor can’t get welfare…welfare is for the poor people…you rich men can’t expect poor people to pay you….get out of my office…you’ll get nothing here.”  Every day was humiliation. I’m still hoarding food as again I was hungry like when I left my father’s home.

So i went to church and I went to AA and I trusted Christians .  I trusted godly people. I was lied to by the College of Physicians and Surgeons. I was lied to by psychiatrists but I’d been a family physician , a member of the family physician of canada before becoming a specialist in medicine and psychiatry. I found myself trusting family physicians and Godly psychiatrists. I’d extend my trust to Sam Sussman , an Orthodox Jew. I had named the psychiatrist who raped me drunk and stoned out of the blue and left field this powerful connected man ‘made me his woman’ and ‘bred me’ as my engineer friend liked to put it.  He was a misogynist.  I am still confused.  I was the wife in my marriages to female doctors doing the cooking and cleaning as well as working each day. My colleagues most had wive ‘s and mothers of their children and they went home to the traditional division of labour but I was married to female doctors and never had any support. They did school , I did the wifely duties, and worked two jobs for their ‘desires’ and maintained us while they brought in stipends.  I realized that the guy who said marriage was institutionalize prostitution was talking to me. I was destitute after divorce and they were wealthy yet I’d spent the marriage helping them academically literally dragging them to the library to study and sitting beside them as a study coach, I was ahead of them. But women repeatedly put me down projecting their anger at their husbands and boyfriends who somehow got ‘served’. I never got served’.  I cooked and cleaned and worked.  As a psychiatrist I was most interested in the escorts and their pimps. I was fascinated having pimps as patients and learning how they trained ‘their bitches’.  Exact opposite to all I did.

I read Gottman of Love Lab fame and learned that I was a master at verbally winning battles but lost the war because my wives held onto resentments.  They had horrendous relationships with their alcoholic families and their horendously abusive mothers and I’d had this straight arrow ex military engineer who supervised hundreds of men and a religious Baptist loving mother who had wanted a daughter but had me and couldn’t have more children. I failed her because while I was apparently the prefect child I left home. I preferred running with the pack and had this spiritual path that took me away from the safety and love of home. I truly was the prodigal son.  I came home after I left and then left again. My parents were always there for me. I feel sorry for so many who haven’t had that. The trouble was always my pride.  

Pride is the original sin.  Alcohol and addiction create the mental state of ‘egomania wth inferiority comp;lexes’.

I’m thankful to day because of all the people who helped me to surrender to God and let go of self. The Swami song say ‘mother father have I none I am he, I am he, blessed spirit I am he’.  In my training in theology I learned that there is God and me and if I wanted to know God more fully I must let go of ‘me’.  I had to learn to trust God. The last 25 years have been good. Better and better.

Sober I went to AA with the former head of UBC psychiatry. I continued to see Christian Psyvhiatrists who helped me deal with the addicts and alcoholics in government who abused their power rather frequently. I was blessed to know the lawyer Jonathan Meadows and lived in this great psychodrama of my life.  I was often not the centre state. The play was called William Hay but there were all these bad actors trying to make it all about them. Meanwhile I was listening to the big black Milton who in AA said he pasted a message on his mirror ‘you’re looking at the problems’ to remind him it’s his perception that is the problem.  AA taught me that alcoholism was first a ‘thinking disease’. I had thought I had thought I was spiritual but I’d worshiped the demon drink and demon pot and demon tobacco.  Now I thank God for the early deep breaths I take in the morning. Now I’m writing gratitude lists each morning thanking the Lord for my dog Madigan, my long term friend and lover Laura and all the precious people in my life. I also thank God for the ‘enemies’. The College of Physicians and Surgeons resident pervert was a trial as is the PM today. I was so thankful for the fourth step in AA and Bernie, Hank and Father John who helped me work thought my resentments and fears. I was so hurt and angry and frightened and betrayed. I really wasn’t a good man or a good husband. I probably was a pretty good doctor. I joke and say I fear a class action suit from the 100 babies I delivered who get together and find they share a thumb printed on their forehead because I held too tight guiding them into life. I also think that any day the thousands of people I convinced not to suicide will sue me for false promise.  Yet I did my best and thanks to the amazing teachers and those who went before me and the College of Physiccians and Surgeons, and the Royal College of Physiians and Surgeons and the Canadian Medical Protective Associations and the Society of Addiction Medicien and Christianity and AA and frankly and friends and dogs and cats I’ve done okay.

I’m alive and 25 years ago I so suffered indescribable and utter ‘incomprehensible demoralization.  I had such anxiety and was told by an old internist in a late night meeting of International Doctors in AA, “anxiety is a measure of your distance from God and a measure of your humanity.’  I know God is an experience and not an idea. I used to say I knew Christ and Christ consciousness but today I know Jesus as a friend. God is good all of the time.  

I continued to hunt big game with my friend Bill Mewhort shooting moose and deer and bear with him. I continued to sail and sailed solo on the SV GIRI San Francisco to Hawaii in winter through a hurricane. Thanks to Dr. Willie Gutowski I worked a couple of years in Saipan in sobriety so enjoying meetings on the beach with Frank beneath palm trees watching the sunset.  I loved learning from Phillip another sailor doctor and wise man.  I still struggled with the inclusivity of Christian churches caught between the LGBT include church of Peter and the exclusive church of my evangelical friends. I loved studying theology with the purest deepest Catholic psychiatrist John whose paraplegia he may as well have called his ‘glad gethseame’ like the catholic priest friend of Bill Wilson.  All the Christians I knew and admired were living inspirations as they were persecuted in Canada like the disciples of Jesus were.  I was blessed to go to Israel and make so many trips to conferences all over the US and be with the finest of men like Nady and Art and Carroll and Dick and men and women who are now dying or dead. I loved my friend George in recovery , another physician who would go for dinner with me before an AA meeting as we’d talk about baseball and life and love.  I’ve been truly blessed despite being a kafetch and having the worst tendency to slip into rabbit holes and whine with self pity. My military friend who told me ‘you’ve got one foot in the future and one foot in the past and you’re pissing on your day, get your head in the same room as your ass’ also said ‘get down off the cross we can use the wood’.  

Recovery is ancient healing journey. Just for today was a profound awakening for me as I felt that God , omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent was here and now and for me to be with god I had to be present. The journey I ‘d begun as a child and later continued in church and school and temple and love came to this point of intersection in the cloud of unknowing at the point of Stellate reality and Interdimensional experience with each day a beginning. I pray to know God more and to know God’s will more. I have quiet time.  I meditate. I do right livelihood . I listen to the spiritual teaching of the Bible and the Big Book of AA and Kurtz book, Spirituality of Imperfection, the great teachings of the world. Paramahansa Yolanda taught “I bow to the saints of all religions’.  I never thought of a hell and didn’t believe in the tribalism religions that said ‘our little group wins and your group loses’ but I liked Pascal’s wager and Eben Alexander the neurosurgeons ‘proof of heaven’.  I’ve known sacred and supernatural.

I would love more. I would learn to be more loving not in that sentimental way but in the way of the God of Gods.  God is all. God made the devil and free will and fate are central We like to choose free will when we do something good and blame the other guy but refuse to accept fate when ‘shit happens’.  It’s all ego.  God is good all of the time. The people like the man who abused me or the ex wife who lied and stole or the college administrator whose perversion obscured her vision , all of these people were bicycle lessons like the soldier who held me hostage threatening to kill me, or the native who shot at me and all those antagonists in my play of life with me as the protagonist.  

I’m so thankful to be sober so that I have been able to live this good life with knowing people like I do,  I struggle now with gender, sexuality and aging. At the point when I’m Shakespearean with desire greater than performance no longer a consequence of alcohol but rather a product of physically hurting and slowing. I struggle to stay fit when I was always active and climbing mountains to experience the joy above the clouds with a sober friends revelling in the beauty of existence.  I loved seeing the great works of arts and museums in Edinburg Oxford and London and Paris this spring taking Laura as a companion but missing Madigan yet knowing Karen and Belinda people I could trust with my puppy while I was away.  I can trust today and people don’t lie and betray me. I know that expectations are preformed resentments and I don’t have the unrealistic expectations I had younger.  I’m more mature. Who would have guessed. But I do miss the theatre and dance world and find so many older people still pretentious and tedious.  

I’m becoming ornery with age.  I’m happy alone.  I’m less afraid.  I worry I might drink or smoke dope again and fall into the psychosis of believing the false is true.  

It’s 25 years. A quarter century, much longer than the entire time I smoked or drank. I still don’t know what I will do when I grow up.  Right now I have to go have my hair done and the biggest challenge is whether to wear a skirt or slacks.  I’m having a lot of first world problems and very few third world problems .  I’m full of gratitude and know grace.  I really am blessed but often don’t know what next. I miss the Sturges expedition.  I knew I wanted to ride my Harley there and back like I knew I wanted to visit the church’s of Ethiopian and see the black Jesus.  I knew I wanted to go to Athens and the Vatican and Mexico City pyramids ,  I’ve known what it is I have to do but now I’m able to plan the day but don’t have any real idea for much into the future. I felt last winter I was kedging my life off the sand bars of Covid and the WHO . I’m aware that Trudeau is the devil incarnate and that I’m at best a hobbit in the spiritual warfare of today but it’s hard to see.  I’m in the cloud of unknowing and just keep walking forward with Jesus.  

I need to be sober because the world is so crazy I need all my wits about me. I don’t want to be an ostrich that puts it’s head in the sand and doesn’t know who kicked it. The Donovan song, season of the witch and beatniks are out to make it rich makes me ware of my vulnerability.  I am learning to trust God more in old age. 

I’m thankful for sobriety and don’t believe I’d have achieved the long term sobriety that Vaillant of Harvard fame wrote so eloquently about without AA.  

I’ve a doctors in AA meeting tomorrow. So I know I’m looking forward to that. I’m continuing to work. I’m here. I’’m muddling along. I have a principle responsibility to Madigan who is dependent on me.  He’s a messy room mate.  

Thank you.  25 years. Thank you, Thank you God and as I learned in AA God works through people. Thank you.

I remember being tormented after I stopped drinking and smoking. I think the tobacco was as bad as the pot. I was in withdrawal for weeks to months, hiking all day and visiting a Christian psychiatrist, going to church, praying, meditating, writing, doing odd jobs to pay 

21 years

I remember looking forward to drinking legally. 21 years of age was being an adult. Celebrating being an adult was going into a pub and ordering a beer without fear.  Drinking legally was being a man.

Then the provinces of Canada between 1968 to 1970  dropped the legal age of drinking from 21 to 18 or 19.  I felt short changed. I had sneaked into bars mostly to hear bands and be with older friends in bands but somehow when the age changed it meant that the ‘rite of passage’ somehow changed with it.  I developed a resentment.  One day I was drinking illegally, next legally, but what I’d missed is that great 21 year old party bash.  Life wasn’t fair. 

Now I’m 21 again.  Old enough to drink in my own era of thought. Ironically 21 now is the number of years I’ve not drunk. I could drink today too but I choose not to. Today like most days I pray I won’t. 

It’s a long fast.  It’s a sacrifice of the first born most desired pleasure for greater joy here and in heaven. It’s not drinking really I feel this way about but smoking. I miss smoking.  I felt a man when I had a pipe or cigar in my mouth more than when I had a pint. Indeed I quit drinking as much to quit smoking as for any reason. I was addicted to smoking and had quit three times each time starting again while I was drinking.  In retrospect I saw that most of the really rotten things I had in my life were somehow related to the drinking and the way it effected my judgment at the time or for days after. 

The last time I quit both. Smoking was bad and even evil in my mind by then, drinking not so bad.  Man was never meant to inhale smoke of any kind. We were not born with chimneys. I kidded myself the menthol was good for me. I even thought pot was good, because it was a ‘herb’ but while I could have eaten cookies or made tea I instead smoked that too. I even hot knifed hash in the east.  Hash was an east coast thing. Marijuana was a west coast thing.  Crystal meth used to be a European thing while Cocaine and crack dominated the west. Now it’s all fentanyl. I consider myself lucky I got out before cocaine and crack and crystal meth and heroin and fentanyl became prevalent. 

I think with some humility and gratitude that if I’d not quit smoking I might well have smoked crack.  Today I’d smoke fentanyl.  So many dead There but for the grace of God go I. 

I don’t miss the feeling of swimming vision, spinning rooms, the ‘not caring’ how people perceived me as I was a happy fool drinking. I don’t miss brushing people off.  Smoking I was interested in the inhaling and exhaling like a pranayama guru would be with air. But I didn’t appreciate the air and I didn’t appreciate the water. I liked them corrupted then.  Today I’m thankful for breathing. I breathe some days like it’s the best thing in the world. I’ll catch myself not breathing or shallow breathing and take a great big breath smelling the scents and fragrances and thanking my lucky stars to be alive. I love clear spring water alone, love feeling the coolness in my throat, enlivened rather than depressed.  Alcohol is a depressant. 

We say luck is God acting anonymously. I really feel lucky or rather loved by God, just to be alive when I consider where it could have gone.  We’re to celebrate God with ‘praise and thanksgiving’.  We become closer to God with fasting.  Sacrifices were not of the throw away kind but of the best. Hence the story of the man who was going to give up his child and was told not to. By contrast to the Biblical tradition other religions of a more barbaric age were sacrificing their children for prosperity.  There’s a difference between giving old used socks or new socks as a gift to someone. I get that.  

A pastoral friend commented on my life and wondered if giving up alcohol would be good for him. I had to tell him that for him he’d have to give up money. I could tell he didn’t like smoking or drinking but he really got excited around money.  Getting sober didn’t mean I gained a whole lot of subtlety or sensitivity.  I felt for a moment after my reply my friend was going to hit me.  

There’s an idea of ‘attachment’.   What attaches us to the physical or lower plane versus the world of thought, love and soul. Fasting reminds me that I’m a ‘spiritual being living in a material body’ rather than a ‘material being in a spiritual body’.

It was also clear to me that while smoking was physically unhealthy alcohol and those I drank alcohol with were no longer  people who helped me be the best person I could be. That’s what true friends are. Increasingly my drinking buddies were just that.  It had begun as fun.  We were living a great life when we were teenagers and couldn’t drink.  I didn’t smoke as a teen either.  I loved the athletics and scholarship, the music, and fellowship. The coffeehouses really were a blast. I still love coffee. But alcohol creeped into the scene.  At first it was a little something that was added to the already great event, the champagne with the celebration. Then I remember not wanting to stay at a dance because there was no booze. I loved to dance but finally dancing without alcohol didn’t seem as much fun.  Then everything I was doing socially and recreationally was associated with alcohol.  I even stopped to get a pack of cigarettes for after sex.  

I wasn’t alone.  It was the society I lived in.  Teaching at the university I was just one of the gang. I didn’t drink more or less than the next guy yet I had this whole moral thing going on. I was meditating and praying. I’d been attending church since I was a kid. I really believed in this idea of choosing between walking upright or slithering on the ground.  Sometimes drinking I really was legless.  Smoking is simply a death cult thing. It’s not life giving or life enhancing but self destructive, slow suicide. 

It seemed to that so many of my friends who had children changed. I didn’t drink more than a couple of drinks on call. I was on call 24/7 for a decade in a row. So I was what was called the ‘binge drinker’.  I’d get drunk on holidays. Studying I’d hardly drink until after the exams when I’d get thoroughly gassed.  People would comment on my dancing on tables but I danced on tables more sober than I ever did drunk. I was a dancer.  I had drunken friends who never danced, academic Ichabod Cranes, who’d try to dance on tables when we were drinking, monkey see, monkey do but they’d fall and I wouldn’t. 

 Often I thought that I was giving other people a ‘handicap’ by being a little drunk and stoned.  Not blatto but definitely one kite to the wind.  I’d think then that you probably shouldn’t drink, being stupid, or whatever, but you should thank me for drinking and giving you a chance to appear intelligent or athletic.  Only when I was drinking would I perceive myself in ‘competition’ without others. Sober I saw myself in competition with myself and my last achievement but drinking I’d compare.  There’s a special kind of egotism with drinking. I identified. I really was an egomaniac with an inferiority complex when I drank.  Sober, no.  When I smoked dope I just sat in the corner and stared a lot.  I liked music more stoned.  I was a slow lover and even fell asleep and had a partner fall asleep. Not quite like the movies. 

I took up knotting to have something to do with my hands. Smoking a pipe had to be a whole lot about the rituals and stopped me from biting my fingernails. I bite my fingernails again now.  But smoking caused me to wheeze. I also lost some of my sense of smell and taste. It’s always amuses me to hear smokers and drinkers going on about palate and taste, like blind men talking about the movie. Drinking does a lot of tissue damage, of the liver for sure, but also the heart and eventually is a serious cause of dementia. 

Quitting smoking the first thing I noticed was all the smells. I coughed up a bunch of lung for weeks then I breathed like a child again. St. Francis called his body, Brother Ass or Brother Donkey. Well when you give up smoking your body is happy.  I remember the first time I booked a motel room and didn’t ask for not smoking and was literally assailed by the stink and reek of old tobacco.  I smelt like that.  I smell the old men and women who are homeless but have enough money to smoke. They smell like ash trays. But just like me, they don’t know it. And I was wearing a Brook Brothers suit and fine cotton shirt, reeking.

Drinking I was losing a lot of time.  One or two glasses of wine are fine but when I got to three or four I wasn’t really at the top of my game. It’s why we don’t want pilots to be drunk and why Frank Zappa didn’t want people drunk or stoned in the studio. It’s non productive time.  I found when I stopped drinking I suddenly had a whole bunch more creative and useful time on my hands. I also found that I really didn’t like hanging around the conversations that went on when people got to drinking. I hate to use the word boring but that pretty much sums up what I thought pretty soon after.  Suddenly I was taking courses at the university after work, working out and writing seriously again.  I was reading a whole level higher of books. I always read but once again I was reading scientific texts, ancient tombs and studying other languages to appreciate translations.  

It all could have gone the other way.  There but for the grace of God go I.  These years have been good, exciting, interesting, useful, good friendship, wonderful dogs and memorable. I don’t forget like I used to.  My memories have a crispness and colour where as I remember them diluted and blurry.  No wonder we joke if you remember the 60’s and 70’s you probably weren’t there.

I’m here today. 21 years later. I love the learning and the friends.  It’s been a journey. I don’t think I’ll drink or smoke today. It’s hard not to some days with the government pushers working overtime.  I liked when a guy asked what is the difference between the government and any other gang. The answer was they’re not into selling children for sex, yet. Small mercies. They’re head over heels into pushing cigarettes, alcohol, gambling and now drugs.  

I was vulnerable as a young man.  My family was good, really good. Hard working,  law abiding, church going. They didn’t drink or smoke. Nothing they taught me was anything but good when I look back. Wise and fun.  I just had this anti authority thing going.  I didn’t know it then but I was afraid.  Everyone said the world was going to end.  Nuclear war, Silent Spring, Ozone Layer, Millenial Computer Crash.  It was just constant and if the world was going to end then ‘shananananana live for today.’  Be happy.  Get drunk. Party.  Carpe Diem. That bar at the end of the universe. 

But the world didn’t end.  And all around people were making families and building lives and those that drank and did drugs weren’t. I was fortunate. I got off the downhill spiral real early.  I remember being called a ‘high bottom’ and thinking these guy inviting me to join them were gay.  But by then I’d figured out that the elevator only went up or down , live or die, and I had to get off the down elevator. My partner had got hooked on coke and wouldn’t get help.  I thought I just loved the wild ones and bad ones but later learned that I had come to prefer ‘lower companions’ because it was a cheap way of making myself look good.  I’d moved away from the stirling friends, those I admired most. I’d been blessed to have the finest associations but one day I looked up and was surrounded by people who might be academics but they were drinking academics, they might be sailors, but they were the drinking sailors.  Suddenly the commonality of association was no longer the ‘best’, a true ‘meritocracy’ but rather a ‘tribal’ association.  Today I like to think my associations are the best and some even smoke or drink but no more than moderately or occasionally.  

I stil have some friends from that era too.  I like the ones who got off the merry go round.  I regained friends from before and I’ve made such very good friends since.  I’ll forever miss George and his poetry and stories.  We often laughed going to churches, dinners and meetings together, how we’d never have met if we’d not gone to the ‘bad boys’ club.  

I really am blessed.  So much is perception.  I’ve been able to study the mind and help people whose lives were in knots and who were on the verge of killing themselves. I think of ‘straightening paths’.  I’ve been able to reduce suffering and comfort people and restore people to work and family with the help of my training, my teachers and God.  It’s been a wonderful journey. I’m situated where I’ve been able to to help hundreds of people get out of the hole they dug from themselves and go off to find a new direction.  I think a lot about my parents and family and feel that in their eyes and the eyes of friends and even my dog and the cat I’m okay today.  I didn’t feel good about myself back then even though to the external world I was riding high, outwardly a true success story. Inwardly it was a different story.  

I never imagined I’d be here this long. I didn’t think I’d live this long. I’m thankful I am.  Now I could have a drink especially at my age, but really I don’t think I will. It’s like the apple in the garden. I’ve tasted it.  But I don’t want any more.  I can have anything else in the garden, even the apple but not both.  I could have a smoke too but why.  It does no good.   Truthfully, now,  I just want to walk with my Father.    

20 years

Looking back it seems a long time ago though it really was just yesterday.  I remember it hard at first, like any great change. Like the first year of medical school. Like moving from a different city here. Like learning to sail a yacht or learning to hunt a moose. It was that kind of learning. Steep at first.  But worth it.
I remember feeling like I had walked across the floor of parliament changing sides from the opposition who blamed and explained to being responsible and holding myself responsible.  Taking the high road for a change rather than the low road.  Living freedom not license.  Understanding empowerment and higher power rather than taking credit but denying regret.  Living for the day and knowing that tomorrow wasn’t a product of yesterday but rather of today. What I did today made all the difference. I could isolate or participate.
I remember letting go of old ways, old friends, old ways of thinking. It was like medical school. The party crowd condemned me and laughed at me studying friday and saturday nights. Some days now I regret missing the pop culture but then i’ve head a crying baby whose life i saved by resuscitating them in the wee small hours when they were born dead. That’s no small thing and it was years to learn and wise men and women who taught me.  It didn’t take near as long to learn drunkeness and drugging and licentiousness and party skills.  I’d been a baby and an animal long before I became civilized and learned.
It was good to remember that first year I’d already learned to walk but had fallen down many times leaving that crawling phase.  I remember the discipline too of avoiding slippery people, places and things. It was too, for my friend who did a tour of duty overseas, like learning the booby trap signs, recognising  those early  signs, that save a life.  I got good at recognizing them and see them  sooner today, knowing better to avoid them.
Because I know I can fall. I’m humble that way. Humility is knowing one’s own limits rather than judging the limits of others.
Mostly it was understanding it wasn’t the behaviour but the thinking. I had such a monopoly on self pity and really was an egomaniac with an inferiority complex. I was thankful too for those who went before leaving me the clues, especially, just for today, and think, think, think.
I went to meetings and avoided my own company.  I loved when the guy told me that the condition was like having sex with a blow up doll and calling it love. I was so easily deceived. I’d been so deceived for so long. I learned especially to doubt the government and radio, and tv and internet.  I still want to drug test the insanity I hear and see because I know how insane one can be while sounding perfectly reasonable.  The emotional are just as bad.  There’s this sober place somewhere between the love and fear that’s really very serene. I like it there today.  I was a  drama junkie younger enjoying getting all worked up.  Now I really ask if I want my dog in the fight. So much is avoidance and awareness now.
I pray today. Almost unceasingly.  I meditate too. I exercise but not enough. I enjoy life in a different way. It’s like being on a different dimension.  I sometimes even feel rocketed but it’s more joyful than pleasurable.  I’m sad at times but it’s not that angry sad I knew so well. It’s less tragecomedy than tragedy or comedy. There’s details I never knew existed and shades and colours I might have known as a child but lost somewhere in my teens.  I’m an adult again in a different way.  But it wasn’t easy at first.
I’ve climbed mountains and sailed across oceans and know that the hardest part is the starting and the first days and weeks. Then it’s a new way, a new life and the old shores and valleys don’t drag you down so much. I just keep on trekking and the peaks and new shores keep appearing. Sometimes I want to go back but then I go to a meeting and hear from someone whose just been there that it has n’t changed.
Today is where I belong. It’s a new day. I’m grateful.  I have to hold onto gratitude.  I ‘m thankful for the teachers, those who had gone before me, a little further ahead.  They taught me I could exchange attitude with gratitude and it’s true. I’ve got a lot more gratitude today.  20 years later.
It’s a new day. Thank you God. Thank you Jesus. God of my understanding.

Waking Up Sober

There’s no hang over. The room isn’t twirling.I’m not asking myself what I did last night.  Not so much what I did, but what did I say that I might regret.  I’m not wanting to die. I’m not hating work and the human race and wanting to curl up in my bed and never come out.
Instead, the soft light of dawn comes through the window panes.  I step out of bed softly.  The way the light falls on the bed is beautiful. I’m happy.  I look forward to the day.
Crossing the living room I enter the bathroom where I have an old beat up tattered and torn copy of Around the Year with Emmett Fox. It’s pleasant to sit on the toilet and read today’s passage.  Metaphysics is science and art. We learn by doing. And there’s a quote from James, “be ye doers of the word."
I’m thankful to be sitting on the toilet and not on my knees beside it with my head down the hole, retching. Retching beyond retching, dry heaving, like soiled seizures, without the comfort of coma.
I sit down to meditate. I pray to my Higher Power.  At the advice of my spiritual friend, Willie, I’ve been praying to the Holy Spirit.  My sponsor, Bernie, called his Higher Power, Holy Spirit too.  I talk to Jesus sometimes still. Then there’s a pantheon of names of God that blindfolded men have used to describe the elephant.  God is infinite, finite, omnipotent, omniscient.   Holy of holies.  I go on in my head detailing all I think I know.
Recently I’ve been riding my Harley Electraglide motorcycle to work listening to Steven Bell. Two refrains from his music  play over  again in my echoing brain:”We’re not alone” and “It’s always been about love”.  We're not alone. It's always been about love.
As I’m sitting quietly considering my breathing, repeating Psalm 23,  I hear the little guy get up.
Gilbert, the cockapoo is my room mate.  I saw him laying stretched out on my bed when I woke up. Now he makes his way over to the couch where I’m sitting cross legged. He jumps up to sit beside me. I feel his paw on my knee.   “It’s always been about love”
I open my eyes. The little guys big brown eyes are looking at me expectantly. One paw on my knee. He's made his morning greeting. It's my move.  I hug him, roll him over and rub his tummy and chest.    He squirms with joy.
I go back to meditation.  A little while later he’s sitting beside me, again,  with his paw on my knee, big brown eyes boring through my closed eye lids.   I know I shouldn’t reward this ‘behaviour’.  I should focus on my meditation. I should listen carefully for God. I should be focusing on my ‘quiet time’.   "It's always been about love".
 I look the happy fellow in the eye turn him over on his back and rub his chest for a longer while.  Then I go back to meditating, thinking too that he came over when my mind was wandering, wondering about the external manifestation and synchronicity and flow.  I’d begun thinking ahead too, to my day, worrying about the myriad of details that could overwhelm me, the recent crisis of betrayals, mutiny, disruptions, equipment failures,  physical threats, world war, zombies, alien invasion.
He next appears with a ball.  I get up then. We're not alone.
Years ago I remember kicking my dog, Shinto, hung over, him greeting me with wagging tail and me pushing him away and then kicking him as I staggered to the washroom to be sick on a country morning.  I wish I could take back that shuffling kick.  After he came back and licked my foot worried he'd hurt me. Shinto was a saint sent to be with me through the end days and early days.
After him, still early days though I didn't think so, came Stuart, the white Scotty.  The drug dealers who threatened me ,wanting me to pass their marijuana dirty urines so they could get high paid government jobs. When I wouldn’t, they poisoned Stuart.  They sent me a “message”.   Cowards.  I didn't pass their urines dirty urines but years later you could hear my voice at the biker rally when Steppenwolf sang out, Goddam the Pusherman.  And we all sang along remembering friends and family the slime had killed.    
I put the coffee on.   I like that I’ve fine coffee, my own stove and coffee maker.  It’s mine. It’s not rented. I own this. I pay taxes.  I’m a contributing citizen.  I put on the kettle for the instant porridge. Once hunting with my friend Luke, he brought these little packets of delicious.  I don’t know if I had encountered them before, but they tasted so good on that trip in the woods with all that camaraderie and humour, I just love having them now for breakfast.
I started feeling irritation about this crisis at work that has been thrown at me.    Enough time in the day for that later.
I moved my mind instead to remembering the wonderful woman who stepped forward to assist. She makes me wonder about genetics and pedigree.  Her family overseas is royal blood.  She has that fundamental understanding of ethics and morality along with a joie de vivre, immense talent,  skill and training.  She's been a blessing.
Rather than thinking about the negatives I focus carefully on the positives.  It takes effort. It doesnt come naturally any more.
In passing, sipping my hot delicious coffee, of the the group I was with yesterday. I find myself dwelling more on  the one person who I think wrongly or rightly doesn’t like me.  Then thought I see the ridiculousness of my thinking.     I let this person go and conjure up the smiling wise faces of those compassionate understanding old souled people that I hung out with.
In my head  realize I'd began writing a poem for the negative one, about their emotional land mines, their judgementalness and insecurity but stopped myself. I thought about the soft spoken worker, that Brother Lawrence in our midst.  I could so easily be distracted by the drama queen desperate approval and miss Brother Lawrence.
I see myself about to campaign, to run  Napoleonic war, with the emotional maturity of  5 year old or at most a 13 year old girl. This person likes me, this person, that person doesn't. She loves me , she loves me not.   Here I'm Napoleon again and I’ve taken Germany and Italy, but I still have to assault Russia with my charm,  good grace and diplomacy.  I caught myself almost taking her bait. She's erected walls and moats and hurled down flickering eye lids of burning oil glances and I'd stood 'bewitched'.  Meanwhile Mother Mary, Magdalene and St. Theresa of Avilla are all glad to talk to me.  I just wasn't giving them my attention. Meanwhile Russia isn't all about me, either.  
I conjure up my personal Mother Mary. She’s always true and curious. I love her curiosity and good will.  I envy her too.  Still,I want to think her life was ‘easier’ than mine, ‘more privileged’, ‘richer’. I want to dismiss her radiance and goodness.  I want to make unfair comparisons. I want to chop off the heads of others to make myself taller. But I can’t. I think of her and it’s just ‘all about love’. “I like Steve Bell,” she told me once.  Agape is what C.S. Lewis called it.
After being sick I used to have coffee and run through my mind all my enemies.   I never even thought about ‘winning them over’. I just imagined hunting them down and doing abhorrent things with their exposed intestines.  Mostly I scowled.  I’d take a couple of cups of coffee and fifteen minutes or so to ‘compose myself’. Then I’d " force myself" to do what I had to do blaming everyone else for my ‘having’ to go to ‘work’ , "having to put up with idiots’, "having to be diplomatic’.  I wanted my personal army, my personal rocket launcher and I wanted to nuke all the silly little girls with their ‘wrecking balls’ and their insufferable prissy little begging boys.  I felt sore that I was born out of time, fully equipped for a western but deprived of a Mexican cantina, some easy wrench and an obvious bad guy.  I always wore the white hat in my own drama. I even wanted my own spaceship with lasers. I couldn't be satisfied with a sunny day in the summer when I wanted a spaceship with quantum generators and planet killers.
Today I tell myself I have to be nice to those not nice to me, if only to reduce the blow back. I think Karma isn’t some intellectual thing but rather a spiritual law. The golden rule, is just that. Be unto others as you would have them be unto you.  I’m still trying to be more forgiving.  We talked about my ex wives yesterday.  I can list my own faults ad infinitum today and even think about theirs. Mostly I remember their infinitely smooth skin, the sweet smell of their hot sweat and the warmth of their exquisite miraculous bodies. We were all so young, yesterday.
I hope I do better today.  Today is my new canvas.  It’s time to shower.  Dress.  It’s a new day.  The wreckage of the past is lying out there somewhere. I don't expect to encounter it today. Mostly it's all new.  Only I'm projecting the past onto the present. .  And I know, “We’re not alone’.
“It’s me against the world,” I used to think.  I was an angry Bruce Lee.  After a days war I could settle down for a drink.
Today I’m really happy with the peace.  Especially the peace of mind.  Nothing tastes better than a tall glass of sparkling spring water too.

Fellowship of AA

There is the fellowship of AA and there is the program of AA. The fellowship is meetings and association with others seeking sobriety. The only requirement for membership in AA, ie the fellowship of AA, is a desire not to drink. This means that you can go to AA while drinking despite relapsing and you can go to AA sober or after having had a drink. If you go to AA when you've been drinking you're welcome if you don't create a disturbance and generally people who have been drinking on the day they attend a meeting of AA pass if they're asked to share because really they're there to learn about not drinking. In meetings the membership 'share' their 'experience, strength and hope" regarding 'what it was like, what happened and what it is now'. What it was like was clearly not good or they would still be drinking. That's called the 'bottom'. What happened refers to their decision to give up drinking and how they sought help and what it is like now refers to the improvements that have occurred in their lives since not drinking. Now initially the third part of that equation is often difficult because it takes a while for one to 'feel' good when one has depended on alcohol for 'feeling'. Yet 'carrying the message of AA " refers to this third part which certainly comes easier with increasing sobriety. Some people just 'whine' and 'complain' and that's certainly not what AA is 'all' about. Yet whining and complaining is where alot of people begin their recovery and slowly with exposure to the AA fellowship and certainly following working the program of AA they recognise that recovery is about more about the 'positive solutions' and less about the 'problem'. As one person succinctly put it, drinking I was killing myself, not drinking I'm beginning to live. I like to tell people what living I've done today more than the dying I used to do. The fellowship of AA carries alot of laughter because in recovery we realize that no one was forcing us to drink but we persisted because that's what addiction is. Doing the same thing, expecting different results despite negative consequences. We laugh in the fellowship with each other because the solution, though frankly obvious, "don't pick up the first drink and you won 't get drunk' is often the hardest step any individual will ever make in their life. However it's the first step on a glorious road that begins one day at a time and progresses to a life of recovery 'beyond one's wildest dreams'. No one is ever laughing 'at' you but rather they're laughing with you in the fellowship because frankly, we've been there and 'we don't want to go back'. So being reminded of what it was like, given the nature of denial, is a powerfully strong way of avoiding the isolation and 'stinking thinking' that comes with not going to meetings and too commonly precedes relapse.