Where the Impossible Becomes Possible

I had an odd, interesting, eye-opening experience tonight. To preface, in case you're not aware or if you're reading this in the future, this is April 2020 and we are in the middle of a pandemic. Because of this, certain restrictions are in place, and people are quarantining themselves, and group gatherings, like recovery meetings, have been cancelled or are done online with programs like zoom.com and gotomeeting.com. This was the case tonight - I was virtually attending a recovery meeting from Wisconsin that I used to physically attend regularly. People's faces were flashing on the screen, people I've known for years, and who've known me for years, and I began to feel very uncomfortable, very anxious, and I didn't want these people to see me or know that I was there. I pressed the 'leave meeting' button and noped right out of there.

I was really surprised by my reaction, as I've physically returned to meetings where I've been absent for a while, and it's been ok. Tonight, I felt fear, anxiety, guilt,  shame. I didn't want my old friends to see me, and I virtually turned around and walked away.

About two weeks ago I had a crisis. I was seriously depressed, had no hope, and no longer wanted to live. I was hospitalized for a few days. One of the things that came out of that experience was I was put on different medication. The doctor asked me if I wanted to try it, and I said, "yes," thinking what the f*&k difference does it make anyway? I also had a similar experience to the one I described in my last post - I had come into the hospital with a plastic water bottle filled with vodka. My property was taken and stored during my hospitalization, and returned upon discharge. I did not know whether staff had discovered my vodka or not, but, as in the last post, that bottle was on my mind. I discovered that staff did not discover my bottle, and I left that hospital on the fence - do I continue to do whatever I can to get well, or do I start drinking again, hoping I'll permanently self-destruct? I chose to pour the vodka on the ground and throw the bottle away.

What I have discovered after leaving the hospital and the vodka behind is that I feel better, more clear, brighter, than I have in probably two years. I feel almost functional. I have hope. I have willingness to do whatever it takes to stay in recovery. I can't attribute it all to the medication change, as I haven't been taking it that long; however, I think the medication might have a lot to do with it. The interesting thing is that the medication I accepted is medication that I would not in my 'right' mind take - I took it with a screw it attitude, and found out it isn't like I thought it would be. Imagine that!

I've also discovered that spontaneous feelings are beginning to return. What I have been guilty of most of my adult life is learning what feelings I should have in which situation and acting. The only real feelings I had for a long time were anger and fear. I don't recommend this way of living. And the miracle is that I am no longer afraid to experience my feelings. I am willing to have them, learn from them, and let them go.

As I mentioned earlier, the feelings I felt going into that virtual recovery meeting were fear, guilt, and shame. Why? Because these people were my friends. Even though I kept them at arm's length, they always showed they cared for me and wanted me around. They probably would have done the same tonight if I'd stuck around, but I chose to run. And when I moved from Wisconsin to Arizona, I consulted nobody. I picked up and moved without saying a word. I abandoned my friends, and they had no idea what happened to me. That's a shitty, shameful way to behave, and I realized tonight that I owe them amends.

And that brings us to the title of this post - 'Where the Impossible Becomes Possible.' I had another virtual meeting to go to which started an hour after the first one that I bugged out of. Between the first meeting and the second, I sat with what happened and what I was feeling. Tonight my feelings were visceral. The remarkable thing is that I didn't have a desire to cover up or stuff the way I was feeling; I was able to sit with it and learn from it. That is when I realized I need to offer amends to my friends, but I have no idea when or how this is going to happen. It seems impossible.

So I went virtually to the second meeting, which featured a speaker sharing his experience, strength, and hope with addiction and recovery. I related a lot to his story - he also had created situations in his life that seemed impossible to overcome. But by putting down the alcohol, and doing the things other alcoholics before him had done to recover, he began to get well - he began to overcome those impossible situations that he had created in his life. Because we work a spiritual program of recovery, God is able to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves - if we let Him.

I do not know how to have a real relationship with another human being. I learned how to push people away and bring alcohol closer, and my level of distrust and disconnectedness of others grew. It seemed easier to distrust from the get-go than it would be to grow close and eventually experience the disappointment of a person abandoning me.

How do I begin to recognize, acknowledge, and embrace my connection with others? I don't know exactly how it is going to happen, but I do know this - that when I embrace an attitude of willingness to get well, the Universe opens all sorts of doors that I didn't know were there. I have seen it happen in others, and I have seen it happen in myself, and I see it happening now. Nothing is impossible with God. I don't have to know how things will get better; all I have to do is apply as much honesty and willingness that I can, and be open-minded and accepting of what shows up in my life. So many times I have closed the doors that Source has opened for me, but I must remember this: there is not a problem I can create that is bigger than my Higher Power. 

I have been cursed and blessed to have the desire to live a bigger life than I'm living. I can't sit with new information about who I really am an continue to live the way I've always lived - I must allow change for the better and healing into my life. I must let go of fear and old beliefs, and open my mind, my emotions, an my arms to what God has in store for me. I must continue to develop faith and courage as I become the man I would be. It's a tall order, but I don't have to do it alone. I have God, and I have a ton of good people around me who love and support me in proportion to my willingness to accept their love and support.

Namasté,

Ken

Greetings from Prescott Valley, Arizona

On or about December 18th, 2019, I moved from Wisconsin and landed in Flagstaff, Arizona. From there, I spent some time in Holbrook, AZ, and from there moved to Prescott (prounounced presskit) Valley, AZ. The reasons for the move are still unclear, but I've wanted to live in Arizona for some time now. So here I am.

I haven't written here lately. It's difficult for me to write when times are tough, and times have been tough. I decided to move rather abruptly, so I landed here without a plan. Additionally, I found it necessary to drink alcohol on the way down here. So, I'm basically a homeless drunk in Arizona. Actually, I was only drinking for about a week, so the consequences weren't too severe. However, the drinking caused me to be suicidal, so I landed in the psychiatric hospital and then off for a 30-day treatment. After treatment, I came to a sober living house in Prescott Valley.

It's also difficult for me to write when I feel unsure of what I'm writing about. If I only wrote about that which I knew for sure, I would write, "Moved to Arizona - sober again." I know there's much more to the story, I just don't know what it is yet.

And that's going to have to be ok. I am grateful for a friend who wrote to me, "It will all work out." My ego wants to defend, rationalize, justify, but I can't - I can only say, "It just is," and go from there. And going from here means learning to trust in and rely upon Source that it will lead me to the next right step; building my recovery support network here in Prescott Valley and Prescott, working vigilantly on learning how to manage depression and keep it from informing my choices, and being of service wherever and whenever I can. Same schtick, different state.

So I think that's about it for now. Pretty sketchy, but I needed to break the ice on the latest leg of my journey. I hope you'll continue to travel with me!

Namasté,

Ken

A Firm Footing

Living in a community (halfway house) with 10 or 11 other men in early recovery is an excellent opportunity - it's an opportunity to learn how to get along with other men without the use of mind-altering chemicals, how to develop healthy friendships, and how to express oneself in a healthy way. It's also an opportunity to experiment with different recovery strategies and find out what works and what doesn't work.

Although relapse isn't mandatory, it often takes more than one treatment for a person living with addiction and/or a mental health condition to attain and maintain a recovery that lasts. My observation and my experience is that a real surrender and a real desire to change from the inside out is necessary to begin building a recovery that works and a recovery that lasts. 

As you might have guessed from previous posts, I know a bit about what a good recovery looks like. Knowing this has not been sufficient to keep me in recovery. Even working in the field of recovery has not kept me in recovery.  So the question for me is, "What's it going to take?"

Good question. I'm not going to speak to anyone else's experience, as I've yet to meet anybody whose specific program of recovery works for me in the long run.  I've tried to mimic and be like others, and it just doesn't work. I can say that the basics that work for most people work for me - honesty, openmindedness, willingness, spirituality, connection, and being of service. But it seems I've had to experience what doesn't work before I get to experience what does.

Some years ago I theorized that if a person had a healthy self-esteem and a good outlook on life, then that person probably wouldn't want to poison themselves with alcohol or other substances, or to put his/her life in danger. Now, that's not to say that a person with those attributes would not acquire the disease of addiction or a mental health condition; there are plenty of cases of sound-minded people who have experienced these things. What I am saying is that a person with those attributes who found themselves in the throes of addiction or mental illness could, with proper support and education, find their way to a healthy recovery.

Quite recently I've come to discover that there are things going on in my subconscious mind that inform how I feel sometimes and, ultimately, how I behave. We all have that; it's part of being human. However, I seem to have issues that I am unable to identify at this time, and these issues affect the way I feel about myself. Additionally, these issues cause me to sabotage myself and make me a danger to myself. I am unable as of this writing to deal with them on a conscious level, so I will be seeking more professional help in delving deeper so that I can bring this stuff up and get it taken care of.

Because of large blank spots in my memory, I've always known that I must have some stuff to work on. I've tried to work on it myself through prayer and meditation, and reading different self-help type materials. I know it's there, yet I haven't wanted to ask anyone to help me dig it up. These issues, whatever they are, are keeping me from being the person I know I can be.

Surrender in the sense of mental health conditions and addiction means that I acknowledge and accept that I have done everything that I can do on my own to control or get rid of the problem, and I am ready to accept, without reservation, someone else's ideas and suggestions. 

This is where I'm at - I surrender. I'm tired of the struggle, and I admit defeat. 

Those in recovery from addiction know that this is the point at which a person can begin recovery. I know I must give everything over, even that of which I am unaware, to a Power greater than myself in order to begin full recovery. Fortunately, I know my Higher Power works through capable and talented caregivers, as well as experienced peers in recovery, and I am now ready to take my life to the next level with the help of those around me.

As mentioned in a previous post, my recovery is a journey of self discovery, and I am committed to sharing what I discover along the way. I will continue to utilize this blog to share what I learn about myself in my recovery.

Namasté,

Ken 

The Challenge of Medication

I'm currently in an outpatient treatment program, and have a new psychiatrist. He's a good psychiatrist; he possesses one of the most important yet rare traits a good physician can possess - he knows how to listen. At any rate, after many questions regarding my life and my condition, he has prescribed 4 medications for me. This is the greatest amount of medications I've ever been on at one time in my life, and it presents a challenge for me.

If you've read the white space in my blog, you might know that deep down, I want to be dependent only upon the Christ Presence within - that is, the unique individuation of the Universe that I Am. I'm not there yet. 

During this current outpatient treatment, I'm not only releasing my dependency upon alcohol, I'm releasing my dependency upon nicotine and pseudoephedrine, an over-the-counter (but controlled) nasal decongestant and antihistamine. It's mood-altering because of its stimulant properties and it seems to be habit forming, at least for me. Pseudoephedrine is also one of the ingredients used to make methamphetamine. I suppose caffeine and sugar are next on the chopping block - they're both mood-altering for me.

So I may be sober, but not really, because I still rely upon substances to get through life, to get through the way I feel. And my good doctor is telling me, "Get off of that stuff (the stuff that in the long run no longer works and will make me sick or kill me) and get on this stuff (the stuff that is sold by pharmaceutical companies and works today and doesn't make me sick yet)." 

And this is the challenge: I know deep down that the chemical and culinary methods I've been using to stay sane don't work to well anymore (if at all) and I don't have a lot of faith that the medication regimen that I'm on now will work forever and ever, and I don't want to get hooked into the pharmaceutical merry-go-round, which really isn't all that merry. Added to this challenge is the fact that on my current regimen of medications, I'm feeling better than I have in a long, long, time, if ever. I was walking today in the frigid weather, and I was making up a song, out loud, as I walked! It's been years and years since I've done that! And there's a lot of other stuff happening in my life that indicates the cloud is lifting.

The clouds might lift, but they always seem to be waiting in the wings to return (that's depressing, isn't it?). So what's the answer to the challenge that I'm feeling great now, but because of the temporary nature of solutions that originate from outside of me, I'm bound to fall again? I believe the answer is in proper self care along with putting first my recovery and learning to live, not just know, my connection with the Universe. All the answers are hidden within; my task, while I'm feeling weller, is to go within and earnestly seek. In this way, I will know what to do when the medications' effects begin to wane. 

In the next post, The Challenge of Self-Care (which will be linked just as soon as it's written), I'll discuss how I might go about developing habits which reduce the need for chemical relief from life.

Namasté,

Ken

Lessons from Relapse - Acquiring the Willingness to Change My Story

If I remain stuck in who I think I am, recovery will be difficult, if not impossible. For years and years and years, I did not want to be depressed; yet I identified with the symptoms of my depression every day. I wasn't good enough, I was hopeless, I'm different than everybody, my life has no meaning, I can't make it in this world, I'm a disappointment to everybody around me, and I'm undeserving of anything because I'm such a loser. That is who I believed I was. I felt like an inept mountain climber - I watched everybody I knew climbing their mountain while I struggled at the base of mine, slipping and sliding, and never making it more than a few feet up.

I did not know or understand that the identity that I walked around with was not really me, that it was symptomatic of a brain disorder (commonly known as Major Depressive Disorder). I did not know that I was never hopeless loser, even when I was unable to successfully complete endeavors  (like marriages, jobs, and post-secondary education). I wasn't hopeless 2 weeks ago, and I'm not hopeless today. The symptoms I experience, although they feel like me, are not me.

I'll mention here that to say, "I am an alcoholic," or "I am (mental health condition)," is self-stigmatizing. Few people walk around saying, "I am diabetes," or "I am prostate cancer." Today, if I want to introduce myself and tag the disorders I've experienced, I say, "My name is Ken and I am in recovery from alcoholism and depression." This puts a degree of separation between me and my disorders, and it is more accurate - today I am sober and I am not experiencing symptoms of depression. It seems complicated, but the things I tell myself are very important.

Human tendency is to define ourselves by our past, by what we've done or experienced. We are all we've thought and experienced; however, we're also much, much more. We are also all we can be, being children of the infinite Universe. As spiritual beings having this human experience, we have the opportunity to surpass our perceived human limitations. One can see this in human development, technology, and even in sports - there is a drive within us to be more today than we were yesterday.

Addiction and other mental health conditions have the tendency to dim our creative spirits and drive. I've experienced it myself, and I see it in a lot of individuals with whom I work. 

In order to thrive, as opposed to simply existing, I must be willing to expand my borders. I must be willing to do the work required to break free from the limitations I've imposed upon myself. How did I become willing? By being surrounded by people who let me know that I was so much more than I thought I was. I began to believe these people, and I began to seek ways to expand my consciousness - to use tools others had used to begin to look past the fence I had constructed around myself, and to begin to believe that I had the power and ability to knock the fence down.

When I was treating only alcoholism, I did everything I could to stay sober. One of the things that bothered me is that I would see some others in recovery doing less than I was doing, yet having seemingly better lives and an easier time of it. Part of this perception was the veil of depression that often surrounded me. The other part of it was that I really was doing more than some others and not achieving the same results. This only served to fortify my belief that I was useless and a loser. My belief was that I would always be less than those around me, no matter what I did or how hard I worked.

When I acknowledged and accepted that I am also dealing with a mental health condition, I began to treat that as well. In order to stay in recovery, I have to treat both of my conditions. There's a fair amount of overlap, but there are also things I do that are specific to each condition. I feel that there are a lot of things, physically, mentally, and spiritually, that I must attend to in order to stay in recovery. I am in truth grateful for this, because what I do has opened my life and given me things and people I never would have experienced otherwise.

So back to changing my story - if you'll notice by reading some of the other posts in my blog, I do not write very much about 'what it was like'. I don't tell expansive stories about my time in prison, or how many hospitals I've visited, or all the wreckage I created in the past. On a private level, I deal with all of that. My story is about recovery, not addiction and mental illness, and recovery is now. I understand today that the most important moment in my life is right here, right now, and I don't want to waste this moment re-hashing the past. 

I was at a job interview last week, and at interviews I submit not only my resume, but also my criminal record. The interviewer looked at me and said, "You don't look like you've stolen cars." I've heard similar comments when I tell people about my past, and the reason I don't look like I've committed crimes and been to prison is because I don't live there anymore. I'm just not the felon I once was! But seriously, I don't consider myself a criminal today (because I'm not), and I don't go back there very often. I don't carry that story anymore. 

The reason I want to thrive, rather than just survive, is that one, simply surviving kind of sucks, to me, and two, I believe that the more I'm loving myself and loving life, the less likely it is that I will go back to the life I used to live. Now, obviously, I did take a brief trip back in time to get another taste of misery; however, I can use that jaunt to discover what more I can do to stay in recovery as well as to help others in their recoveries.

So my story is not that I'm a depressed drunk, because today I'm not. Today I am a person who, with help from a Higher Power and a lot of friends, is discovering who he really is and sharing that person with others.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Namasté,

Ken

Discovering What Works for Me

Sometimes I think my story is one of growing up and trying to live without a pair. I have a little (or maybe big) rebel inside who wanted to run away by the time 6th grade rolled around. I didn't physically begin running away until I was 26 or 27, but I certainly figured out how to escape using chemicals. 

I didn't balk at my first residential alcoholism treatment at age 21. I feel like that was a mistake. My drinking was certainly a problem for a lot of folks around me, but for me, drinking was still the solution. I tried to stay sober for those whom I thought wanted me sober. On the plus side, I did learn a whole lot about alcoholism, and how to recover, during those early stabs at recovery. On the down side, I didn't find out why I wanted recovery for 3 decades.

So it's no great shock that I never learned to open up and trust others to guide me. It's no great shock that I never learned to trust myself. My motto was, "Lay low, and avoid doing anything to make anyone notice you're alive." I wanted the least amount of trouble out of this lifetime as possible.

I've recently acquired a new spiritual adviser. The funny thing is, a little part of me wonders whom I could ask for approval for my choice. Not too long ago, I would have cried that I still have vestiges of that person who couldn't make a move without someone else's approval. Today, for the most part, I'm a man who owns his own life - meaning I look inside for what I need and want, and take responsibility for my choices. Living like this is still relatively new to me, but it's a lot more satisfying than the way I used to live - afraid of my own shadow, and afraid that someone would disapprove of me and my choices. That's an awful way to live.

What brings all of this up right now is that I work with others who seek support in their recoveries from addiction and/or mental illness. I am trained to do this, and I have a wealth of experience. What I love about my job is that we follow SAMHSA's recovery guidelines, and one of the tenets is that recovery is person-driven - in other words, each individual gets to define what they want recovery to look like for them. In the long run, that's the only way it really works. But for many years, I tried to make a certain recovery program that wasn't a real good fit for me work for me. This program is great for those who are classic alcoholics, because it was created by two men who were classic alcoholics. There is nothing written in this particular program that says, "This is the only way to recover from alcoholism." The writer of the basic text was a recovery explorer himself; he also lived with depression, and, from reading his biography, I got the impression that he was never fully satisfied with his recovery, although he did stay sober through the rest of his life. However, the message I received from others working this program in my area was, "This is the only way to recover." And, because I hadn't yet accepted that I also live with a mental health condition, I tried to make this recovery program work - time and time again. It made me both angry and ashamed - I seemed to do more than a lot of folks to stay sober and to get a decent life, and it just didn't happen for me. I was only able to reinforce my belief that I was a loser at life. 

I don't call people out, but nowadays when I hear someone say, "This is the only thing that works," I cringe inside. I've been to funerals of sober alcoholics who died by suicide. Can you imagine being so low, wondering why you're feeling this way sober, and knowing that you've failed at the 'only thing that works'? I can. I lived that. 

Today, I let folks know that it's ok to live the way they want to live. Many of the people with whom I work live with shame of not living up to made-up standards - in other words, the rest of their family has degrees, and they don't, or they should have been married at 26 (I was married once at 26, and it was probably about 50 years too soon), or they're not making enough money, or their disability is such that they can't work full-time (which is another construct), or even at all. It's a shame, I think, that we've made boxes for people to fit in, and more of a shame that those of us who don't fit in these boxes are looked down upon. Even in recovery there are boxes. I believe today that we've been created to experience all the infinite possibilities of life, not to fit into a narrow definition of what a 'proper' life 'should' look like. Today I'm discovering who I am and learning to live who I am unashamedly.

So I share with the people I work with good evidence-based recovery tools; but I also encourage them to find out what works for them. Recovery is not meant to be, I believe, a one- size-fits-all orange jumpsuit; I believe it can be a finely tailored expression of all we are inside - beautiful, strong, courageous creations with a lot to offer to life.

I've been holding that in for a long time. It feels good to express it. 

Namasté,

Ken

The Longest Journey

“The longest journey you will ever take is the 18 inches from your head to your heart.” —Andrew Bennett

Yesterday I wrote a little about the spiritual principles supporting recovery. In that little essay, I also wrote that none of them can be practiced perfectly.

Entry into recovery is a traumatic event. Often, to the people outside of us, the traumatic event is what precipitates the necessity for recovery - the overdose, or the suicide attempt, the drunk driving arrest. However, those events are simply the culmination of the way we've been living for the past however long it's been. Entry into recovery is often an awakening, and the awakening is the traumatic event. Waking up in the morning for me has been traumatic much of my life - in sleep, I am usually somewhere else. I'm often warm and comfy, not experiencing physical pain, and usually experiencing a nice dream that I do not wish to leave. Then BAM! I rudely awaken to the new day, with all of it's physical and emotional discomfort. (The way I'm transitioning from sleep to wakefulness is changing, but that's a different post). Entry into recovery is a lot like that - like someone throwing cold water into my face, zapping me back to the grim reality of my life. 

In recovery, be it from addiction or from mental health conditions, we are asked to do things which at first we don't necessarily believe in. "Take this medicine - it will help you." "Go to this support group - it will help you." My thoughts tell me, "This won't do any good," but I try it anyway, because I'm at the point of desperation. I will grab onto anything offered in hopes that I'll begin to feel better. 

And this is where the journey from the head to the heart begins - it is the point where I leave the known world of my own thinking into the unknown world in the search for a better life experience. If my mind is open, I notice things. Little differences. For instance, around 3 years ago I went to my very first mental health peer support group meeting. My thinking was that it would be a bunch of depressed people sitting around talking about their depressing lives. That's the image I carried of mental health support groups for years and years. So, against my better judgment, I attended that first meeting, and a few things happened there - I noticed that there were people there that were happy and friendly and welcoming (those three things are not signs of depressive behavior). As the meeting got going, I felt a glimmer of connection with others as they shared their stories. I didn't feel so alone in my condition. And when I left, I had a little more hope than when I came in.

Doubt! Maybe doubt can be considered a spiritual principle. In that first peer support group meeting, I shed a little bit of doubt on my own thinking, my own preconceived notions. My own assumptions were incorrect, or, at the very least, not 100% correct. As I continued to go to these support group meetings, I began to get better. I began to hear ideas about recovery that I hadn't heard before. I began to share my experience, strength, and hope, and it was well received. My analytical brain was confounded - it could not figure out what was going on. It couldn't see what was happening. Yet, bit by bit, I continued to get better. There must be something here that I can't see that's very, very healing - and I became ok with that. I became ok with not having to have all the answers. So there were a couple more steps on the journey from the head to the heart.

I think the challenge in this journey from head to heart is that each step I take takes me further away from something I love - my own thinking, and my own interpretation of life. It's really all that I have. I've lost everything in life, except life itself, a few times. I've had my freedom taken from me. But nobody can pry from me my own thoughts, perceptions, and beliefs. If I guard them well enough, nobody can touch them. I have to willingly give up my way of thinking in order to lose it, and that's a scary thought, because, I think (and there's the rub) that my own thinking is what makes me me! "I think, therefore I am." (René Descartes) Who am I without my thinking? What am I? 

I'm going to interject here because I just thought of something again that I remind myself of from time to time. All of the 'problems' I have today are a result of recovery. I would not have them if I were not in recovery. So, they're really not problems at all, they are challenges, or opportunities. But I never forget this: Right now, all of my challenges and opportunities are things to look forward to - an exciting adventure; if I pour alcohol onto them, they are transformed into insurmountable problems, 'permanent' failures. That is the nature of my relationship with alcohol - it turns anything positive into something very, very negative. It pays to always keep this in mind on my journey of discovery, because sometimes the brain (not me, but the brain) thinks, "I'm a lot better now. Maybe I can drink or use again successfully." A good thing for me to remember is that the overwhelming evidence in my life (and the lives of others I know) is that alcohol and living well do not mix. My brain still latches on to the very brief time in my life when alcohol seemed to be my solution; it forgets all the times it almost killed me. This is a good reminder for me that my brain is not always looking out for my best interests. It also points to another very important fact to be aware of on my journey from the head to the heart: I am not my brain.

And therein lies one of the mysteries, if not the mystery, of life for me. If I am not my brain, if I am not my thinking, then who or what am I? And this is not a question that logical brain can wrap itself around.

For now, this question is satisfied best by the statement, "We are spiritual beings having a human experience." And this is what this blog is all about, isn't it? Isn't the whole journey about reconciling that dichotomy? 

So, for today, this is the deal, I think: This whole journey is about remembering who I really am while having this human experience, and I remember who I really am by endeavoring to put into practice the aforementioned spiritual principles into my daily human existence. And the really fun thing is that each day is a new beginning! Meaning if I think I have it down pat today, tomorrow is going to show me something different! On this journey I get glimpses of who I really am. It's like those blurry shots of Bigfoot in the Pacific Northwest. So I'm chasing that vision, while at the same time knowing that in this lifetime I will never catch it. I will not completely know who I really am until I leave this human experience, but every experience I have in this existence can bring me closer to knowing. And trying to leave this existence early is cheating and will not be tolerated! My vision hopefully gets clear enough to want to stay engaged in this journey. It was touch and go for a while, but it feels like today that I'm really beginning to enjoy the experience. For that, I am supremely grateful.

I wish all of you (my two readers) all the best on your journey.

Namasté,

Ken

The Strengths of Recovery

I'm a grateful person, and the more grateful I am, the more I find for which to be grateful.

It's important for me to recognize the blessings I have today, and it's important to me to share them with others. I get to share at support groups, Stories of Hope, working one on one with others, and through this blog. Here are some of the things for which I am grateful:

• Challenges (formerly problems) - I wouldn't have any of the 'problems' I have today if I weren't in recovery. I'd be dead.
• A growing self-respect and self-esteem
• A career and 2 great jobs
• An increased appreciation for life
• Real peace of mind
• Faith
• Hope
• An increased sense of security and safety
• Great people in my life
• The ability to recognize my gifts and share them
• Courage
• An increasing awareness of who I am
• A feeling of belonging
• I'm comfortable in my own skin
• Courage to be me
• Honesty
• Decreased shame
• Zero guilt
• Self-confidence
• Purpose
• Good health
• Confidence and courage to face life without fear
• Resilience
• I'm useful
• I have an appreciation for others and an ability to know people at more than a superficial level

If I were asked to write down my gifts and strengths and the good things in my life 3 years ago, I would not have been able to come up with one thing. I wasn't even grateful to be alive. Even during the times when I was sober it was hard to come up with things that I truly felt good about.

To be very honest, recovery hasn't given me these things - I've had them all along. Alcoholism and depression covered them up. What recovery has given me is the ability to recognize my strengths and to develop them and use them to serve others while at the same time create a great life. This is why I don't walk around with a lot of shame (I'd love to say that I have zero shame, but I'm not there yet) - I am becoming the person I was born to be. There is great joy in that.

My spiritual beliefs support the idea that each and every one of us is a great person. The people with whom I identify best are others who have walked the path of addiction or mental illness, so those are the people who I direct my energies to the most. I support others in becoming the people they were meant to be. I assist others in discovering and developing their strengths. Some people come into recovery thinking their lives are over; I get to be there when they discover that their lives have just begun.

I'm really glad I didn't miss out on this.

Namasté,

Ken

The Calling from Within

Have I written yet of my intense dissatisfaction with life, as I knew it? I think I have. Genetics aside, my experience is that alcoholism and depression stem from an inability to connect with life as it appears. It's an inability to derive pleasure or satisfaction from the activities people around me are enjoying. So the search begins, and the search has taken me to different states and countries, through prison, definitely to different substances, and behaviors. 

The journey has been worthwhile. To the average, standard person, however, my life has been a waste. I've got no credit, no property to speak of, no education, no family - I got nothin'. To me, however, I have an immense encyclopedia about what doesn't work, and I have the experience to back it up. There are those of us on Earth who hear, "Don't do that," or "Just say no," and they say, "No" and then don't do it. I'm not one of those people. I know from my own personal experience that jail and prison is dehumanizing and a terrible waste of life. I know from experience the pain, shame, remorse, and sometimes terror that comes from alcoholism. I know from experience the deep depression that comes from having a fully functional brain and body yet being unable to live life successfully (as we know success). I know from experience what it's like to have hope dashed time and time again by abysmal failure in every area of life. I know from experience the intense loneliness and emotional (and often physical) isolation that those of us who live with addiction and mental illness suffer. I know what it's like to be looked down upon by my own family. What makes all of this worthwhile is that today I'm on the other side of that. What makes it worthwhile is that I can share my experience, and now my strength and hope, with others who have found the same dissatisfaction with how life looks. What really makes it worthwhile is the journey to something deeper and more meaningful.

In the United States, we live in a medicated society. For everything that makes us feel bad, there is something available to numb the bad feeling. And I'm not only talking about alcohol and illegal drugs and pharmaceuticals. There are myriad ways to numb our feelings and quiet our cognitive dissonance - entertainment, sports, sex, patriotism, nationalism, the internet, social media, consumerism, religion, and many many more. Distractions. Distractions from the pain that tugs the soul of humanity. Distractions so we don't have to focus on the fact that we are killing ourselves. If we feel the pain of knowing that we're a nation that can disregard the very lives of our children, there's something to take to numb that pain, or something to do that can distract us. And, for a lot of people, that works.

[Let me mention here that a lot of the things that we use to distract ourselves aren't bad things in and of themselves. In fact, if you follow the creation stories in Genesis, God didn't make anything bad. What is harmful is when we use things in order to avoid looking at ourselves or the Truth]. 

And, for a growing number of people, it doesn't work anymore. There's not a substance or an activity that can blind us to the mass destruction we are wreaking on ourselves. I'm one of those people.

And, the personal deal for me is that I don't necessarily always want to be one of those people. It's a challenge and it's scary. I know what is 'expected' of me by society, and I can live up to those expectations when I'm sane and sober. But those expectations don't do it for me. If I do only what is expected of me by others, my depression gets so deep that I want to self-destruct. 

So my journey is two-fold: One, to become quiet enough to listen to the still small voice within, and two, to overcome the fear and discomfort of being unconventional - of being myself. Neither are easy. Another obstacle is that my first thought always seems to be to look outside of myself for the answers, even though a lifetime of doing that has gotten me to the point of some understanding that the only answers are within.

It's a challenge. I'm not one of those people who seek enlightenment from the mountaintop - I'm one of those souls who seeks to find it in the trenches. And in the trenches, I have to do icky things, like connect with people and live and speak in ways that might be unpopular. However, when I look at life as an adventure, knowing that somewhere along the line I did chose this path, and understand that I'm fully equipped to live it, it is fun and enriching (not depressing). So I lurch along in staggered forward movements, with gratitude for the path that is mine.

Namaste,


Ken

What I Get When I Open My Mind

I used to not believe what I could not understand. This is kind of the way humans are, I think. But I took it one step further - because my thinking was so right, if I couldn't understand it, it wasn't understandable. I did not seek to understand; I didn't even seek to accept.

For instance, if anybody ever saw any good in me, either they were lying or I had them fooled. This kind of attitude makes for very short relationships, and by relationships, I mean all kinds - friendships, romantic relationships, jobs, etc. If you thought I was a decent person, you were either lying or delusional, because deep down, I knew I wasn't a decent person. I wasn't the kind of person that had anything that was likable or any sort of skill that was useful to anyone. 

This belief in my innate badness is very much a shame-based belief. It was so strong that it persisted despite much evidence to the contrary. Most people (I think) think they are pretty good people who occasionally make mistakes or do bad things. My perception of me was that I was basically a bad person who occasionally did good things. 

In my opinion, it is impossible to stay in recovery and keep this attitude. Or, it is impossible to keep this belief and stay in recovery. It is also impossible, in my experience, to keep this shame based attitude and have a healthy relationship with God. 

I will not say that I presently have the best attitude or belief about myself that I could have, but it's better than it used to be. I'm finally beginning to see that there are steps in between the alpha of desperately sick and the omega of perfectly healthy, much like there are steps to acceptance. 

I saw a bumper sticker a few years back that said, "Don't believe everything you think." Good advice! As I've mentioned in previous posts, the human brain is set up to jump to conclusions. It takes effort (plus a little insight) for most folks to move past their first thought. But lazy thinking isn't my only problem. It is the tip of the iceberg. My problem is the thoughts and perceptions generated from a lifetime of thinking that I'm a piece of breathing, walking shit. The change in my thinking must come from my depths - surface change isn't lasting change.

So here's how this whole scenario used to show up for me: I would get some opportunity that would give me hope that I had some kind of chance at having an enjoyable life. Because I had this great opportunity and some hope, I could avoid doing the things that were majorly self-destructive, like drinking. But the change was only on the surface. Because I knew so much, or maybe because I was too afraid to let anybody in on who I thought I really was, I did not go after the deeper stuff - the beliefs. When I was young, I didn't even know that I had no self-esteem, or shame-based beliefs, or any of that shit. The way I felt about myself was as natural as my hair color or my eye color. It was me. 

When I began to recognize that maybe, perhaps I don't process life like everybody else, I did not seek to understand what was different - I simply tried to suppress that difference. Because I'm smarter than everybody else, you see.

So I would cycle. About every two years (sometimes longer, if I had a prison sentence - that seemed to help in a strange way) I would crash. I would start drinking again, quit my job, abandon my domicile, quit my marriage or my relationship, and jump head-first into self-destruction. Until somebody stopped me and gave me some hope. It got to the point where I hated getting hopeful again, because I knew I was in for another disappointment down the road.  This used to be my life. Crash and burn, get some hope, do well for a couple of years, crash and burn.

What's different? A little over four years ago, after a crash and burn, I resolved to become authentic. I knew I was a big fake, and I knew I couldn't recover unless I became authentic. So I started down that path. Started. I was in a relatively safe place to be me, whoever the heck that was. But after I left that place, I reverted to Mr. Sobriety and went about making my millions, rather than allowing more healing to take place. So, after nearly two years, I crashed and burned again - the last crash and burn.

I still needed to practice authenticity, but I also needed to keep recovery first. And that I have been doing. But what was the change? I think I've mentioned it before, in different ways - I've basically run out of f^&#$ to give. I no longer care about if someone finds out who I really am. I no longer care if I make a million or if I don't. I don't even really give a good goddamn if anybody likes me or not. And when I dropped those prereqs to recovery, lo and behold, I began to get better. Bit by bit, I began to heal.

So what happened to the belief that I'm basically a pile of shit who occasionally manages not to stink? In addition to letting go of what I thought others might think of me, I began to let go of what I thought of myself. I began to put less stock in my own thinking. I began to see if maybe others weren't right when they said I was a decent human being with a something to offer. And the results of this inquiry - perhaps call it "Maybe Ken doesn't know everything" - have led to some amazing discoveries. 

The biggest discovery is I'm not the person I believe I am. I sure don't know who I am, but I'm not the waste of oxygen I once thought I was. Being relieved of that underlying belief has made sobriety a lot easier, and it has made recovery from depression possible.

I saw myself on videotape last night. Twice in the past couple of weeks I've had occasion to speak at some meetings at city hall. I was fishing around the city website, and came across recordings of those meetings. I was surprised at what I saw when I was on tape. Here was a gentleman who wasn't ugly - looked pretty normal to me - and said what he had to say in a nice and interesting manner. I knew that was me, but part of me didn't recognize me. I'm used to public speaking, and I like doing it, probably because I'm often talking about myself, and I seem to be received well. During these two meetings I did not know I was being videotaped, so it wasn't like I was doing anything for the camera - I was just doing what I do. It's like writing for me - it just comes out. Yet I thought it was funny that I really didn't recognize myself. And I'm grateful, because it shows me that my perception is still not on target. I need to know that, because every once in a while I dip back into shitville.

I'll mention one other amazing thing before I close - and this is very important: Because other people took the time to acknowledge and support the good they saw in me, I can now see the good in others who perhaps find it difficult to see themselves. This is one of the greatest gifts I've ever, ever received - to not only see myself differently, but to see others in a different light as well (Cyndi Lauper's 'True Colors' is bouncing through my head now). 

I've heard this for the past 25 years - my perception creates my reality, not the other way around. And I'm just beginning to manifest this truth. When I toss away my first thought about anything and allow something better to take its place, I start to get better and my world gets better.

Namaste,

Ken

Are We There Yet?

I recently surpassed 30 months of recovery. It wasn't a milestone that I was looking for; I happened to be in a recovery meeting and simply counted how many months I've been in recovery, and I was surprised - 30 months seems like a long time to me! And, in truth, it is the longest that I've ever been in this kind of recovery. 30 months is a long time, if taken a month at a time. Taken day by day, or even moment by moment, it goes by relatively quickly.

I've heard that recovery/sobriety is a journey, not a destination. It's a neat concept to think about, and perhaps a comforting thought if I'm not where I want to be after 30 days, or 6 months, or 2 years. But what does it really mean? What does it feel like to be on this journey with no visible or even conceptual end? If there isn't a pinnacle, or a finish line, then what is there?

I was chatting with my supervisor the other day (the same one who called me an overachiever for oversleeping), and I happened to mention that what my aim is in recovery is to die from something besides alcoholism or suicide. That's not really the aim of recovery, but a 'successful' recovery from alcoholism/depression ends with a heart attack, or a car accident, or maybe a jealous ex-boyfriend - who knows? So we pretty much know what the destination of this plane of existence is - the transition from this physical plane to the next, whatever that looks like.

But I've lived a destination-oriented life before, and it's not enjoyable. It's filled with disappointment. For me, the disappointment usually came in the form of missing my destination, but sometimes it came in the form of making my destination, and finding out it wasn't the heaven I'd imagined it to be. 

I couldn't wait to get to high school - I'd be a big kid then, and life would be fun. I got to high school. I wasn't a big kid, parts of high school were fun, but for the most part, it sucked. So I couldn't wait to graduate from high school - I had it set up that I was going out of state for college, and I was really looking forward to that! I'd be free, and be rid of my crappy high school and the crappy town in which I grew up, and I could go have fun as a young adult and be on the road to success - life would be great! Well, I had a lot more fun after high school than I did in high school, but after a while, it began to suck as well. I spent the next 20 years looking for just the right physical situation/location where I could be successful and happy. I didn't find it, but, as I began to get tired of searching, I ended up back in Wisconsin, and very, very slowly began to learn that what I was seeking was inside of me, not outside of me. 

I began to learn that God was inside of me, rather than outside, and life was what I chose it to be, not what happened to me. I had a lot of difficulty with the concept that everything I needed was already here, inside, ready and waiting - not because I couldn't grasp it intellectually, but because I felt so rotten on the inside, I didn't believe it applied to me. There was no way I could be goodness and light, because I was such a useless piece of crap.

But the good news is that, by some miracle, I stuck around on this vile, barren, piece of shit rock floating in an empty, barren universe (now if that's not a depressing thought, I don't know what is!) long enough to begin to see some light. The patient and gentle people in my life led me to believe that I might have it all wrong - that my concept of me and my life was light years away from the Truth of my being.

Somewhere along the line, I learned how to 'be in the moment' - to be right here, right now, rather than in the past (depressing) or in the future (fearful and anxious). And do you know what I found in this moment? Nothing. Absolutely nothing! But I found out that nothing was what I've been looking for, and nothing is better than what I had. There was no past and no future, there was only the here and now, and because there is nothing in this moment, there is room for me to make this moment whatever I want it to be.

And that's what the journey is becoming for me - finding out what I can put into each moment to make life a blessed, peaceful, joyous experience. The destination is the next moment. There are 24 hours in this day, 1,440 minutes, 86,400 seconds. And in those 86,400 seconds, there are an infinite number of moments. So I have, each day, at least 86,400 opportunities to find out what I can give or what I can do or how I can show up to create more heaven on Earth. And that is the Truth. My only limit is the present state of my imagination. That's pretty awesome, and it makes the journey something to look forward to rather than something to be endured.

So, fellow traveler, I wish you well on your journey today, and look forward to the moment when our paths collide again.

Namaste,

Ken 

Some Helpful Tools for Time Management

About 10 years ago I was diagnosed with ADD (attention deficit disorder). I've had it since elementary school, and probably my whole life. I sometimes wish I had the 'H' (hyperactivity) that often goes with it. I've tried to treat it a couple of times with Ritalin, and that hasn't been a satisfactory solution - I didn't like how controlled the drug is, and I always seemed to build up a tolerance.

I have found that mindfulness helps me greatly. There are certain things that people with ADD or ADHD can do to lessen the negative effects of the disorder. Two books by Edward M. Hallowell, MD, Driven to Distraction and Delivered from Distraction give a very good explanation of ADD and helpful pointers in living well with it. By the way, there is a positive side to it - people with ADD are generally imaginative and creative, and can be quite productive when we learn to work with the disorder rather than against it. One thing that really helps is finding a job that has a variety of things to do - I have a tendency to lose interest in what I'm doing rather quickly, so if I have a few things to bounce around, it's helpful. I imagine that if I was operating a huge press in a factory pounding out the same fender every day, I'd eventually lose a body part due to inattention. Fortunately I currently have jobs that allow me to do different things throughout the day. Even when I was answering phones at the call center all day, we had lots of accounts, so the calls were all different. I could stay focused.

So my challenges at my current jobs are I now have jobs in which I'm not told exactly what to do and when to do it. It's up to me. Another challenge with ADD is that we are poor estimators on how long a task will take. With having multiple things to do and no clear outline on the order in which they should go, I found myself getting behind and feeling a little overwhelmed. My jobs involve helping people and talking with people, but I also do administrative stuff, and, in that department, I was lagging.

At my main job we use Trello, which allows us to communicate better about different projects going on, and also allows us to set reminders and deadlines for ourselves. It's like a central file cabinet with all the to-do lists, only it's digital. Perfect for me, because paper clutter has always been a bugaboo. And then, this week, my supervisor told me about Timecamp. Timecamp allows me to track what I'm doing, either at home or at work. For Timecamp, I simply start the clock and put in the task I'm doing. When I'm done, I stop the clock and start it again on another task. When I'm at the front desk, I type in front desk, and in the comments I can put down the things that I've done while at the front desk - support calls, entering records, whatever. What this does for me is it helps me stay on task, because I'm mindful that I'm keeping track of myself. Additionally, it helps me realize how much I do in a day. Some days I do so much yet have felt unproductive, because I didn't remember half of the things I did. If you do Timecamp, I would recommend two accounts if you're going to do it for your job and for your other life. Additionally, in Timecamp you can run reports to actually see how long it takes to do certain things. 

Both of these software applications have free versions, and I am not getting paid to endorse them. I imagine in today's world that plenty of these types of programs abound. And that's another thing: I'm very grateful for the things I can do with modern technology - it has really enhanced my creativity and, when used skillfully, it enriches my life. 

So there's a few really practical things that have helped me a great deal.

Namaste,

Ken

Holding on Loosely

I don't claim to know what's best for anybody, myself included. I do, however, often think I know what's best - I just try not to claim it because I know that I really don't know. That's my lame disclaimer.

As many of my 3 readers know, I've been taking stabs at recovery for over three decades. Perhaps the biggest obstacle to my long-term success has been my denial that in addition to alcoholism, I also live with what is called Major Depressive Disorder. However, my spiritual teachings and experience have led me to always look for the deeper meaning. What is beneath the alcoholism? What is beneath the depression? What is beneath the denial? For instance, many of us in recovery believe that alcoholism has very little to do with drinking alcohol, and very much to do with what was beneath our drinking - what causes us to value the use and effects of alcohol more than we value our family, our jobs, our possessions, our freedom, and, ultimately, our lives? Until we come to some understanding of causes and conditions, we can't really hope for long-term or contented sobriety. Yes, we have a physical allergy to alcohol; but if that were all we had, our problem would be solved by abstaining from alcohol. But it's not - we also have the mental obsession that, if left untreated, guarantees we will drink again.

I did not find the recovery I enjoy today until I was able to 'let go absolutely.' What that looked like at the time was really simply that I just stopped giving a rat's ass about how my life was going to turn out. I gave up. So I took what came my way as far as resources and help and I gave it my best shot. And I did not have any expectations that anything would work. This isn't to say that I believed it wouldn't work; I had simply released any expectations as to the outcome of my efforts.

And the result of this Method of Operation, if you will, is that I have a great life that I know I couldn't have planned.

I've written this before, but it bears repeating. I still have an ego; my decisions aren't as much informed by it as they used to be, but it's still there. And one of the traits of the ego, since egos are fear-based, is that it likes to know what's going on. It likes to plan, to insure its survival. Basically, my ego takes this particular lifetime way, way too seriously, because it doesn't believe in eternal life. My ego believes life is limited.

I, on the other hand, have begun to believe in unlimited, infinite life, and so I have a different view of this experience called 'My Life' than my ego has. And with my new view, I don't have to make sure everything will be ok and I'll be safe and protected. I already know that it is. Everything is already ok, no matter what the appearances are. And so my daily endeavor has gone from making sure Ken is ok (and all the things it takes to make that happen) to making sure that my consciousness stays in alignment with the Infinite. In some recovery programs, this is called knowing what God's will for me is today, and knowing that that is all I need to be concerned about.

I am very fortunate that I work with people in early recovery. What happens when I talk with these men is that simple stuff comes out of my mouth that they can use. This is what I heard come out of my mouth today, and it's a phrase that I believe encompasses the concept of holding on loosely: "I don't need to know today exactly where I'm going; I just need to make sure that I'm pointed in the right direction."

Here is a very concrete example of this concept: Say I want to go to California from here. I have a car, but I don't have GPS, I only have a compass. I know that California is generally WSW from here, and so I head out, in my car, going in a generally WSW destination. Because roads are the way they are, I know I won't be able to take a straight shot to California; however, if I head in that general direction overall, I'll arrive. And the bonus is that along the way I can enjoy the journey, because I haven't plotted out a specific path that I must take. Along the way I run into towns and rivers and mountains and prairies that I hadn't planned on visiting, but there they are! And my trip to California becomes an adventure, because I took it, I didn't plan it.

That's what I've been doing the past couple of years, and it seems to be working. Thanks for reading!

Namaste,

Ken

Listening to Pain - Part I

I have the great good fortune of being a tiny bit wiser than I used to be. I say this in all modesty, because much, if not all, of the success I enjoy today is not my fault. It's simply a matter of being in the right place at the right time, and the only thing I can really take credit for is keeping my eyes and ears open and being willing to learn.

One of the things I've learned is that pain is important in life. Pain has a purpose - it's purpose is to say quite loudly to us, "Hey, something's wrong!" It's like those strips on the sides of the freeway that make a lot of noise and shake our car when we're not paying attention and start driving off the road -  "Hey, wake up and straighten your wheel!"

We I don't know about you, but I seem to live in a society in which pain is to be avoided and gotten rid of as quickly as possible when it appears. I don't like pain, and most of my life energy has been spent either trying to alleviate pain or avoid pain. If you've been following this blog at all, you know that this tactic has not worked very well for me. To put it very succinctly, my practice of avoiding feeling pain has fueled my addiction and my mental illness. In all fairness to me, I must say that much of the time I didn't know any better. I thought I had found some pretty neat ways to get rid of the pain that appeared in my life. What was really happening, however, when I tried to 'get rid of' the pain in my life was that I was pushing it forward. I keep thinking of a snow plow pushing snow out of the way and creating a huge mountain of snow. That's what happened to me - I came to a point in my life where I couldn't push the mountain of pain I had been creating any more, and I had to deal with it. The tools and tactics I used to use for pain removal no longer worked. My plow was dead, and I had to start using new tools to deal with my pain.

The very first thing I learned about dealing with pain skillfully is I don't have to can't do it alone. You might have read me writing once or twice before that we live in a connected universe. None of us, me included, really live alone or live in a vacuum. We might suffer the illusion that we do, but we really don't. My air is your air; my sunlight is your sunlight; my pain is your pain, and, your pain is my pain. You may not feel my pain as much as I feel it, and I may not feel your pain like you feel it; however, it is shared. So, if I want to deal skillfully with my pain, somewhere along the line I will have to share with someone else that I am in pain. I need to expose it, to admit it. I need to let the light in on my pain. I have to admit that it is there. 

The second thing that I need to do in order to skillfully deal with pain is to begin to understand that pain is my friend. (It might as well be - it seems to have accompanied me my whole life!) Pain lets me know that something I'm doing or something I'm experiencing is not good for me and needs to change.

     I'm going to take a moment here to mention an 

     exception that I learned in yoga - the pain that I 

     feel when I stretch and grow is ok - the dull pain 

     I feel when I'm stretching and strengthening my 

     muscles is good - the pain I need to listen to in 

     exercising is any sharp pain - that's the pain that 

     says, "Don't do that!"

As I accept that pain is my friend, I stop attacking it or avoiding it. I begin to listen to it and learn from it. "What are you trying to tell me?" I can learn a lot from pain if I can sit with it and listen to it rather than trying, through various methods, to ignore it or get rid of it.

And then comes dealing with it. I don't deal with the pain! I try to find out what caused it, and then change or heal the cause. Sometimes pain is caused by a specific fear. Sometimes pain can be caused by a habit that no longer serves me. Sometimes pain is caused by something that I need to face within myself that I've been avoiding. And again, I don't have to do it alone. By now in my recovery I have people in my life whom I trust, and who are willing to support me in my recovery. And I support others. Again, this whole life thing is not just about me, it's about knowing my connectedness  with the whole. That means I have to give as well as receive. 

Thus endeth Part I. Part II will deal with a recent experience with my friend Pain.

Namaste,

Ken