Six Notebooks

If we were to live, we had to be free of anger. The grouch and the brainstorm were not for us. They may be the dubious luxury of normal men, but for alcoholics these things are poison.” Big Book, p83.

Woke with the grouch and the anger. Wanted to write a thousand words on it. A rant. Wanted to rant. Just rant. Wanted to tell it like it is. So I had a can of lime Spindrift. Made some coffee. Turned on some Swedish Metal and drove to my meeting with my sponsee. Then opened th big book and searched for the word “dubious” because I knew there was something about it being not so good for me to be consumed by anger.

Hell, I can basically recite this passage by heart. It speaks to me, to, as Jason Isbell sings,it speaks to that man who walks alongside me. That angry angry Paul. That Paul who lived in alcoholic madness for decades. But I needed to see it in the black and the white.

“The dubious luxury”, so well put. And poison to people like me who spent years looking for the answer in the bottom of a bottle. Just pure poison. And, I hear in my head, “Did anyone ask for your opinion, Paul?” No, no they didn’t.

So I drove through the morning dark with a fresh cup of gorgeous coffee, with the full moon hanging in the sky, listening to Swedish metal and let it all go. The brainstorm and the grouch are not for me. Maybe you but not me.

Looking at the moon, I flashed on Dogen, the moon in a dewdrop. The reflection of all things. The height of the moon is the depth of the dewdrop. Just sat with some zen words as I switched lanes aiming for the exit.

Maybe that’s a metaphor. Hell if I know. What I know is I set aside some dubious luxuries and I am pretty darn happy. With my coffee, the Swedish Metal, my iPad and a new way of living.

Peace

Be Well.