I have said many times in many workshops and many books too that we have two voices in our minds.  One voice is loud.  Speaks first.  And is always wrong.  Unfortunately it too often gets our attention.  It’s the ego.  The other voice is far softer.  Far kinder.  Far more considerate of others, but because it’s harder to hear, we don’t always listen for it.  It’s at those times that fear can grab ahold of us.  The good news is that knowing about the two voices makes seeking to hear “the right one” far more desirous.

How can we be sure we are listening to the right voice?  The questions are obvious.  How do we feel inside?  Are we calm?  Are we easily brought to a smile?  Are we eager for the day and our interactions with others?  If we can’t respond affirmatively to these questions, the ego has claimed us for the moment.  The good news is that we can only live one moment at a time and we can move our minds in to the next moment each time we feel less than eager to greet the folks on our path.  That next moment can be whatever we want it to be.

After so many years on this journey I really hate to admit to my moodiness.  But it can sneak up on any one of us and I was reminded at a meeting last night that the easiest way out of a bad attitude is a gratitude list.  That was one of the first things a sponsor told me when I got sober.  ”Make a gratitude list,” she said, “and life will soon look up.”  That was 1976.  She was right then and that suggestion continues to be right.  In fact, I’d venture to say it doesn’t make any difference why we feel moody.  Make a gratitude list and watch the “movie” we are living change.  It’s going to happen.  I know.  I’ve lived it.

Pausing before formulating a decision regarding how to act in any circumstance rewards us with a quieting mind.  For some of us a quiet mind is scarce.  I have discovered, however, that the more I pause before even thinking, the softer my response will be.  Experiencing a soft thought preceding a soft response feels delicious.  It’s seductive in a good way.  It’s worth practicing often.

Pausing, in and of itself, is a gift, but breathing takes us to a deeper level of peace, a level that will continue to call to us once we have made our intention to breathe.  I have written about the importance of “intention” before.  It’s the quiet action that precedes changing who we are, how we think, and how we interact with loved ones as well as strangers.  Our interactions with everyone are what determines the rest of the day.  Accepting full responsibility for every action and every thought empowers us to choose kindness more often.  Is there a reason for this?  I think so.  I think it feels good to be kind.  It allows us to breathe more easily.  It makes us a blessing to the well being of the individuals who have chosen to be part of our journey.  And I do mean have chosen.  There are no accidental encounters.

Surrendering to the truth of what pausing and breathing nurture in the entire human community, makes the decision to do both, to do all three, in fact, an easy one.  Don’t we all want to contribute to making this a better world?  I have yet to meet any one who wouldn’t want to.  The steps are easy.  Slow down so that we can appreciate what pausing feels like.  Intentionally take a deep breath and then another one.  And quietly tell God, “this one is for you.”  Instantly, how we see and feel will change.  Our experience of the moment will feel fresh and light.  Where there had been confusion, there will be peace and certainty.  I promise.

Pause.  Breathe.  Surrender.   The perfect mantra for the perfect day.

No step is unnecessary to our journey.  Not one of them should be pushed aside for lack of value.  The founders of our fellowship were so wise.  Their own struggles had resulted in “this blueprint” that has offered direction to the millions of us who have followed.  How grateful I am for Bill W. and Dr. Bob.  How grateful I am for the disease that led me astray a few decades ago.  How grateful I am that I find a room full of committed 12 steppers every time I walk through the doors of a meeting.  How grateful I am to be alive.

As our group pondered the topic at that recent meeting, I saw the question as a way to stay very close to my process of recovery on a daily basis.  And I realized upon further reflection that working one step or another every day promised me a far better recovery.  Do I need to do them in order at this stage of my recovery?  I don’t think so.  But I do need to keep them close to my heart and I do need to remember that if my day feels bumpy, there is a step that will help to smooth it out.  And if one doesn’t seem to get to “the itch” that’s bugging me, go to a slogan.  Perhaps This Too Shall Pass will offer the relief we want.

Just maybe the reason I have been a bit blue of late is because I wasn’t asking the question, “What step might I work today?”   Posing it puts a very present-minded focus in my life.  Am I facing a situation that I don’t want to be powerless over?  Most of us can say “Yes” to that. Am I holding on to a resentment that is old and keeping me from the peace of mind I deserve?  Have I resisted making an amend that would offer peace to my troubled heart?

The directions we receive for a smoother life are clear, manageable, and worth adopting.  Let’s begin with “What step are you working today,” and go from there.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I don’t want my life to be so minutely planned that I will never “veer off course.”  Stepping “off the path” on occasion is no doubt good for us.  It can sharpen our skills of observation.  Being too tightly wound, as some might describe us, defeats the purpose of living intentionally moment by moment.  Unexpected opportunities should be acknowledged and at least occasionally taken advantage of.  In those instances, we most likely will be off course for a time.  But returning to our mission, with new insights, benefits not only our life but the lives of those people we share the path with.

What my nearly 74 years of living has shown me is that simply, and intentionally, accepting the unchangeable is the least painful way of moving forward in life.  There are always aspects that can be changed but those fall into one category only: they are the attitudes, behaviors, and opinions that I hold that can be changed.  I hated this notion initially.  I was sure that others’ behavior, if changed, would promise me the peace I sought.  Perhaps that might happen, in fact.  However, I can’t make someone else change.  No part of someone else can I change.  Once we completely understand this, we will celebrate it.  It removes the burden of someone else’s life off our shoulders.  Being in charge of the behaviors or the opinions of any one else feels like living in more than one body at a time.  It’s exhausting.  It’s unfulfilling.  It breeds chaos.  Never the peace we so dearly deserve.

What’s your intention for the rest of your life?  Today is as good a day as any to write your mission statement.  Wouldn’t you agree?

I have been talking about change in books and workshops for decades.  And I have said, probably ten thousand times, that no door closes without another door opening.  I have also said we have been fully prepared for every change that occurs.  And no change, absolutely no change happens in a vacuum.  God is present always and no change is accidental. But when the change knocks at my door, I find myself shuddering.  Regardless of the folly of my wishes, I don’t want things to change.  Even when I know and actually understand that life’s meaning is wrapped in change, I want to keep all “my ducks” in the same pond they have been in for years.

The changes that have happened throughout this past year involve friends and my fears, (I’m sure that’s the root of my resistance), that our relationships are changing in ways that won’t benefit me.   I have had to double up on my reliance on prayer that everything that happens in this world is part of a bigger plan that will comfort us all.  It hasn’t always felt that way.  I have had to “act as if’ much of the time.  I’m grateful to be able to say that my resistance has lessened.  Even more,  my willingness to be happy for those others who have “changed” in ways that affected me has felt freeing.  And hopeful.  And mature.

It’s a bit embarrassing to admit at 73 (nearly 74 in fact),  that I want to be in charge of all the changing that may happen in my life or the life of any of my friends.  In other words, I want to play God.  That’s not an enviable trait.  It’s how I have felt, however, and admitting it is humbling.  Admitting it is also the first step in letting it go.  What this means is that I have to, once again, remind myself that God is in charge of change.  God is also the comforter when change is occurring.  I need not experience any one’s changes alone.  And I can rest in the knowledge that what ever change is happening, it’s always been “on the radar screen.”  I have simply not been privy to it until the change actually happened.  God is present, however.  Now.  Within the change.  And as I adjust to it.

But we seldom grasp, until after many failures, sometimes years of failures, that we have to practice and rehearse, again and again, the “art” of not reacting, of “detaching,” from the actions of those around us.  How often we hear or worse yet, say, “ he made me do it!”  WRONG.  No one can make us do any thing.  We have the power to do or not do what ever we do.  That’s the good news, in fact.  We are in charge of ourselves.  No one else.  And no one else is in charge of us, either.  The freedom that accompanies that realization will lift our spirits throughout the day.

Sadly, I spent years being focused on the behavior of others.  I had two things in mind.  One, I wanted to make sure they were not about to do something that would leave me out and second, I wanted to make sure that what they were planning to do wouldn’t embarrass me.  I remember all too well the dozen years of my first marriage.  I was caught up with his every act to the point that my own life barely got attention.  It’s amazing that during that time I did manage to teach school and function almost sanely.  The inner turmoil was the locus of my pain.  And it festered 24/ seven.  When that relationship ended, I still stayed too focused on others.  I had many miles to go before I grasped a different way to step through life.

I live differently now.  I celebrate the journey of others.  I watch and smile, but don’t choose “to coach” the process.  The relief is palpable.  My joy is too.  And the others on my path seem to appreciate my presence much more.  Funny how that works.

Attaching ourselves to others seems like a natural response.  The feeling of aloneness, of separation from others is palpable and haunting.  And then we cling to whomever wanders too close like the moth to the flame.  This isn’t something to be ashamed of.  Wanting connection with others is good.  It’s normal.  It’s also very healing for both parties.  But nurturing a connection for the purpose of healing our wounded inner spirit and forming an attachment that stifles the growth of either party is not the reason we have found each other on this journey.  We have found each other solely to act as listeners, healers, prayerful companions.  Not to be hostages to one another.

We are free to grow and help each other grow.  Consider every expression of consideration like the rain drops that are so necessary to the seedlings the farmer plants each spring.  We are doing our part every time we offer an attentive heart.  Nothing more is asked of us.  Nothing more need be offered.

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received on this recovery path is the gift of observation.  Simply watching how the wise in my circle behaved toward the others we traveled among taught me more than words could have conveyed.  I have heard it said that we all want someone to witness our journey.  But witnessing, or observing, are far different from involving ourselves.

Even when others request our help doesn’t necessarily mean we should get involved.  Our journeys are unique.  Be wary of the invitations to go where we don’t belong.  Being free to love and honor each of us is the purpose of the journey.  For sure.  However, we can do this only when we allow our companions the freedom they need, the same freedom we too must value.

Allowing others to be glad or sad, successful or unsuccessful, angry or dour, sober or drunk; and knowing how ever they are need not be central to our journey, is real freedom.   But coming to understand how to live “peacefully detached” takes time, willingness to believe in this as a possibility, and then perseverance.  Lots of perseverance.  Few develop this awareness over night.  Some never develop it.  But being able to detach from the lives of others as a path for truly living becomes the first day of real freedom, the kind of freedom we have never known.  This I can guarantee.

Tying our happiness to any one else no doubt means we also tie our anger or confusion or depression to them too.  Sadly, many of us do live this way.  Or did.  I have to admit this was my path for many years.  Whatever any one else said or did, how any one else felt, was what determined my emotions too.  It’s a bit embarrassing to say that I lived this way into my late thirties.  And if I had not been introduced to a twelve step program, I might still be tying “my star” to some one else’s dream.  Or nightmare.  My path was not unusual.  I know many others who struggled, some still do, with the same issue.  Our culture encourages it.  But we can live differently.  I know.  I do now.

But as I have already said, it takes willingness.  And not just a little willingness.  Constant is more like it.  The payoff is remarkable, however.  Our load is lightened, immediately.  The sense of freedom we feel is without measure.  The joy we experience at not dancing around the lives of others is a gift like no other.  Every day feels a little bit like a longed-for-vacation when we let everyone fly free.

Some will say, “This sounds great but I need to watch over others.  They are depending on me.” On the contrary, others will never find or fulfill their own journey if we make a practice of peeking over their shoulders, or worse, doing for them what they need to do for themselves.  God is their guiding presence.  Let Him do His job.  And then, let’s do our own.

Being consumed with the actions of others, which can so easily happen to any of us, is an excellent opportunity to take charge of our thinking.  Letting some one else be the center of our mind, thus our life, means we don’t have a moment’s peace.  It also means our own life is passing us by.  It’s up to us what we say to ourselves.  It’s up to us how we relate to every moment.  It’s up to us to change our minds so that our lives can be different.  It’s a simple equation: what we think is what we experience.  If we want some thing different, only we can make that happen.

I had spent years letting others be in charge of my thoughts, thus my life.  And I didn’t even know that I was doing it.  Many of us live like that.  Some of us never change.  But being introduced to a new reality, being introduced to the “miracle” of shifting one’s mind to a thought that would please God, for instance, is such a powerful tool that you won’t want to go back to how you were before.  I’m sure of it.  My life is living proof that taking charge of who I really want to be, taking charge of what I really want to do and think about, has turned my life into a pleasantly peaceful journey.  And what I do isn’t even a big deal.  It’s simply getting proactive and making choices that benefit me.  In the process, they are choices that benefit others too.

It’s never too late to become who we really want to be.  Today can be the day to begin.

I look back on this earlier time as confusing, to say the least.  And very grateful that I didn’t slip off the path.  Actually, I’m often stymied by why I stayed in the fellowship.  I wasn’t sure I needed it, but I was certain that I liked the joy others seemed to have and I wanted that to rub off on me.  I had not grown up joyful. My family was not joyful.  I seemed to always be looking to others for the indication that they cared enough about me that I could dare to be joyful.  Codependent?  I’d say so.  Incessantly insecure?  For sure.

I still didn’t relate to the idea that others were “my teachers” until I began the study of ACIM.  Like so much in one’s life, I had to first make the decision to accept the idea that the men and women I traveled with were my “chosen” teachers.  I had to suspend my disbelief in this concept.  That took willingness.  It took a strong adherence.  And it took constant vigilance.  But this idea finally became ingrained and I feel so blessed that this has happened.  My life has improved ten-fold since giving up the old way of thinking.

I now love the idea that everyone is my teacher.  I love the reminder from friends that there are no accidents.  I love looking around at my companions and trying to discern exactly what the lesson might be that “they are in charge of.”  Most of all I love knowing I am serving as “their teacher too.”  Life is like a good meal.  There are really no left-overs.  Every aspect has its purpose.  Grabbing each one as it approaches, allows me to grow in the ways I have been born to experience.  To remember this is the challenge, of course.  Some days, some experiences are more appealing than others.  None are superfluous, however.  None.