Recovery is a cultural phenomenon

On July 4, I was having one of those days. Not a bad day, just one of those days with too many options, and too many people to try to accommodate, and an inflexible schedule of my own to boot. By the time I had finished with my obligations, I had only a couple of hours to get ready and make it to several barbeques before darkness fell. I drove by the first party twice, all the way up into the canyons, back through and down another ,and back up again. The valet was full and the parking was terrible, and I was already spun- like most alcoholics, I don't do well under pressure. I was inclined to just go home and read a book.

I got a call from a friend who was at the party that asked me to just park and come up. Okay. That helped give me some direction. So I found a parking spot, except it said No Parking, but it was the only place to put a car in a half mile vicinity. And so, I was gripped by indecision again. Ug! I think we all know what this is like. TO top it off, I had just had a big chocolate-y coffee drink with whipped cream. So I sat, thinking.

Suddenly a little hummingbird came whipping up the road and landed. It sat right in the middle of the road. And sat. Until I got out of my car, and began walking towards it, at which point it flew off. But it got me out of my car, out of my indecision, and walking towards the party.

And what a party! Over 300 sober people, all having a blast. Its amazing to see, all these people having the time of their lives without alcohol. And not just 300 people in one space; most of us know each other. That is the beauty of recovery in LA; its a close knit tribe. When I was using, I would know a few people at any gathering, but not like this. Not to the point that it takes two hours to say hello to everybody. Honestly, in my using days, this is what I wanted. I often drank and popped pills to quell the anxiety of walking into a party. Why anxiety? Fear of rejection. 

In recovery, there isn't rejection by the tribe. Its complete inclusion into the life I always wanted. Its a large group of people who are there to help and love each other, and who have helped and loved me. The LA tribe not only know me; they know my two daughters as well. We gather for holidays; tree trimming, Thanksgiving, New Year's Eve. My kids call several of my recovery friends when they need to talk. They have dozens of uncles and aunts. This is the village that is helping raise my children. What a beautiful thing for them to get to experience!

Bottom line of this blog is this- because I am sober, I am able to walk through indecisiveness that used to cripple me into total inebriation. I didn't drive by the party once and go home; I drove back again. I picked up the phone, which I didn't do in my using. I sat and paused while sitting at the only parking spot. I was aware enough to see a sign when it was given to me. I recognized the hummingbird to be a more important sign than the one that said 'no parking.' And I got to have, as a result, a beautiful night surrounded by my tribe. I got to see two friends who have been struggling for almost 20 years celebrate their first 2 year mark of recovery in all that time. 

I love my life in recovery. The whole point of the upcoming channel is to be able to show others what we have; we know it isn't like this all over the country, and that we have a really special set of circumstances here in LA. But the main thing is that people who are considering getting sober see what is possible in sobriety, which is EVERYTHING. Anything you want can happen. It is anything you want it to be. We also want to show the cultural movement it is becoming; it is no longer a thing of shame, but a thing to be proud of. Surviving the addiction and thriving in sobriety is like coming home from war. Its a thing to celebrate, every day. And its the celebration that is the energy behind the recovery movement. Its exciting to think of how world views are changing as a result. Its beautiful to think of all the families healed, the kids who get their parents back, the parents who get their kids back, the relationships rescued, the hurts amended....as I stood at that party, with all those 300 people, I thought about all the lives that have improved as a result of their sobriety. Lets just say for argument's sake, 50 people, and that is a low number. That's 15,000 people who's lives have been positively impacted by recovery. 

That is the most exciting thing I can think about. Now I think about the number of people on our facebook fanpage, 4800 fans. If we again say that for each one of those people, 50 peoples lives have been improved- that is 240,000 people. Really think about this for a minute. Seriously, what could be more miraculous? We, who were destined to wrap around a tree, land in jail, we who couldn't leave our house without a handful of pills, who lost our jobs, woke up not knowing where we were- WE ARE CHANGING THE WORLD NOW! This is miraculous. MIRACULOUS. Amazing. Beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. Poignant. I challenge anyone not to agree that this is one of the most significant movements in history, and I am honored to be a part of it.

Heaven and Hell/ sober at the soul level

I am reading a book right now that, while much of it seems far fetched, has parts that resonate with some ideas that have been forming with me since getting sober. It was talking about 'the other side', where souls go when they die, and how certain souls enter into a sort of never ending hell because they take their intricate control dramas over with them- even in death they are not able to let them go, and they recreate them on the other side, and thus are in hell. But what struck me is that if that is hell, then they were in it before they died, too. Depicted in this were very much addicted people- drugs, sex, rage and manipulation of others...and it is like that, when we are in our using. We are in hell. We are trapped in the narrow hallways of our own twisted control dramas.


I read also (another book- I like to read) that one description of hell, called Sheol, is "the realm of diminishing awareness". That being said, the opposite would be heaven, 'the realm of expanding awareness."  When I got sober, I made a choice to start walking towards heaven. (Crawling would probably be more apt.) My ever shrinking world was going to end, as they say, in jail, institutions, or death. My using (pills, coke, alcohol, that few years) had me in several ERs for tremors through my shoulders and arms, heart palpitations, profuse sweating, panic attacks. I had doctors sending me to neurologists for the tremors, and cardiologists for the racing heart-not to mention 7 ODs under my belt previously- meanwhile i was losing everything around me, my condo, my career, my relationships,  my self. Eventually I didn't want to leave the house unless I could help it. I needed to be able to control my environment, and my ability to cope was so compromised the the environment had to shrink, to fit my ability to manage it. I had to take a certain number of pills just to get from one hour to the next, the exact cocktail of pharmaceuticals, and vodka, (but never in a glass, always in a bottle in the freezer, a million trips to the kitchen, as if no one would notice) This is most definitely hell. I got to where I couldn't actually chew and swallow food. My children were frightened for me. I didn't smile for a full year. 


I say this not only because doing so liberates me (the truth sets you free!) but also to illustrate how using is so very much about control. Controlling how we feel, what we feel, what we do. The rituals. The habits. Its all based on Fear. And fear makes us puppets to the ego. Fear of feeling, fear of dying, fear of living, fear of not being loved, fear of being loved, fear of failure, fear of success...this is the opposite of living.  And sometimes we never wake up to this, that we are in a hell that we have created. Instead of waking up we take the red pill and stay in the Matrix, living the lie, numbing ourselves to death. I can't think of anything more tragic. 


When I came to Recovery, I had spent a month detoxing in a room by myself. I crawled in, shaking and pale and emaciated. Hollow. And immediately my awareness began to expand, I became aware of HOPE, and that was my first step in the direction of heaven.  And heaven opened up for me, because I sought it. It was always there, waiting for me to realize that I was in hell. And I acquired faith, through doing the work.  The ego lost steam as I put principles into my life and lived by them. And miracles started kicking in, at first shocking, and then they became something I could rely on, as long as I was doing the work. Heaven became, and is, exactly where I am standing. Wherever I put my feet is holy ground. I have come to know heaven and hell to be states that exist right here and now. Every moment we get to choose one, every choice opens up one reality or the other. The power of that, and living organically from that point of reference, is awe inspiring. Heaven is waiting for us to choose it. Grace is ours if we only see it always has been and always will be, infinitely, ours. This isn't only true of people in recovery or trying to or need it, but it seems more critical, pertinent and relevant,than not, for us. 


That is the crux of Contrary Action. It goes waaaaay beyond mere abstinence. We are hell bent (pun intended!) on creating chaos and destruction, despair and suffering, when we are in self will. No matter what manner of sheep 's clothing that crafty ego wolf is wearing, it means to do harm to us, ultimately.  It is our first impulse, as alcoholics and addicts. But to pause, breathe, and then do the thing that is contrary to our comfort zone is where true liberation from the bondage of self happens. And to live by principles, actively being of service to others, is the key to a miraculous, adventurous, epic, and extraordinary life. Or, as Tom Robbins says-


"...More immediately, by waxing soulful you will have granted yourself the possibility of ecstatic participation in what the ancients considered a divinely animated universe. And on a day to day basis, folks, it doesn't get any better than that."

What 8 months sober felt like

I found this in my journals today- I wrote it when I was 8 months sober. I have 3 years and four months now, but I feel largely the same way. Perhaps even more so.

How odd that in my sobriety, these elastic 8 months of crushing bliss I have lost the language to articulate the depth of my regard. My regard (period.) To regard means to have a point a view, to have a point of view means to have a place where one stands from which to view. And to commit to standing in a place long enough to regard (with appreciation and focus) a person, place or thing requires a tenacious serenity that has rendered me speechless. I have discovered that all my years of reading dictionaries left me with none but a vocabulary for chaos, angst. I find I have no such arsenal for intimacy and sincerity. And to have a point of view from a solid place means to see with eyes that are not looking for a certain outcome. Eyes which simply take in what is, which do not constantly scan for what is not. Eyes which are not distorted by renderings of superficial nourishment that the soul does not ultimately require. These things are things of the ego, that cagey old wolf that forever lurks on the edge of serenity. That shapeshifting old bastard, so handy with the smoke and mirrors wants all good things of the spirit to meet a fatal end. I would be foolish to think I have defeated him. I will step to this creature every day for the rest of my life; I will wake up with the hot stink of his grinning mouth close to my face- on a good day. On a bad day, it will smell like the most fragrant and attainable thing, and I may weaken with desire. I know my cunning enemy because it is what provokes me into any thoughtless action. I will know my enemy after the fact, when I have not thought my actions through and reacted reacted reacted like a godless puppet, an impulsive animal, a spineless anemone shrinking in the wrong direction. I will know my enemy when I taste regret for my thoughtless actions and even still when I react to that regret- react, distract, regret, etc. I know that life. I had that life. It is the life without god. And now the armor with which I suit up every day is not to protect the weak, philandering ego, the commitment phobe, the hater, the fiend, the monger, the opportunist, the narcissist.It is for the silent, constant vigil for which I have been preparing my entire life, my first true act of rebellion, my first REAL attempt at living gracefully. I had a plethora of words for disappointment, heartache, and all rest of it because words justified it all, or so I thought. Words made it all worth while. Words made an entire life material for the greater good of art; it could all be shaped into an arc of trancsendence, even as I was plummeting to a certain end.

I was once told, when I was young, that a writer at 20 is 20, but a writer at 40 is a writer. I didn't understand it at the time; I was 20. But the proof is always embedded firmly in the pudding. LIfe gives birth to itself as it goes. You either show up for it, or you don't.