Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Higher Power part deux

So, my sponsor thought my writing was nice, but lacked any real description or connection to me. True that. I guess I was just setting the scene for the more difficult work.

It's a bit more difficult, too. I haven't really thought of a higher power in a long time. Sure, when I can't find my keys, I scramble around muttering, "God, please please please help me find my keys. Please?" But I don't really picture a God or the blonde bearded guy in a toga.

"Some people," she said "believe their higher power is a judging one. Or, a scolding one like a parent." I was picturing the poor souls that have been tortured by Catholic school. I shook my head. No. No.

So, what do I imagine when I think about it? What's the puppet master look like behind the tree? What kind of sentiments do I attach to this energy?

It's difficult to pinpoint, although, if I'm truly honest with myself, I do think of a man in form. Sometimes, I think of my uncle who died of a brain tumor. Or, sometimes my grandfather. But they aren't really higher powers, I guess, since they're just spirits that watch over me.

So, to stick to the traits then. My higher power isn't condemning or shaming. It's more of a comforting lap with eyes of slight heart break. The world isn't pretty and what I do isn't always either. It's not disappointment, but it's heart break. That this higher power can see through my facade and see my pain, and his eyes are sad for that.

He's got a bosom filled with warmth and light for me.
Light. I was walking down the stairwell at work and the sunlight hit me. Light. Warmth.

Forgiving. Encouraging. Challenging, but not disciplinarian. Disciplined but not strict. Powerful - moving the great winds and stirring the oceans.

Holding hands in the circle at the end of a meeting saying the serenity prayer. My higher power is in the strength of unified voices. In humanity.

For the longest time, and still today, I hold a contempt for the stereotype of organized religion. So much of it is "let God take control." And, while I admitted that I try to control too much in my life (and I recall over and over how someone once said that bdsm submissives are often huge control freaks), I am also one to take charge of my life. Too many times I have heard or seen people who sit back and say, "let God handle it", and then don't act on what they need or desire. There is still free will and one of the things I think that the higher power gives us humans is the power to help ourselves.

That said, I do need to turn some of it over. Clearly, I can't control other people, the weather, cancer, the pop charts, conspiracies, wars, sunshine, my drinking. My drinking. I've been thinking a lot about this, too. Why I drank. When I drank. How I drank. When it escalated. How it got to be routine and not enough. There are no definitive points, but there are stages.

I started when I was fifteen. Sure, my parents were folks who allowed us sips here and there so as not to raise deprived, overly-curious kids who binged just to rebel. But I still did that. High school: I remember vomiting a fair amount in bars in Argentina. Back in the US, I was best friends with Mormons for 6 months in Oklahoma and didn't drink at all - that I recall. In Wisconsin, it's all we did for fun - and other exploratory activities. At that point, it gave me courage - to talk to boys, to make out with men, to be adventurous. College: I tried to be vegan and straight-edge but that didn't work. Dropped out of college and drank with the punk rockers in our house - and drank a lot. 40 ounces on the porch, jack and coke in the basement shows. When I moved in with the old man, it was to lube up my mind, release, be underage and drink in bars with him and his 30-year-old friends. Back in college, again it was to party, to get crazy, to spite my parents. Study abroad in Spain and it was heavy drinking. Shots and shots. My dad made a scrapbook of all my postcards and emails. I'm terrified to really look back on those days. Then, I moved in to my own apartment back stateside. And it became bar partying and drinking at home. And it progressed. And progressed.

More recently, I think about being at my parents' house when I got back from Paris. I drank moderately with them: 2 glasses of wine at dinner. But that was fine because I'd brought a delicious bottle of Irish whiskey back from my stop-over in Dublin. It was stashed under my bed and I ran through it at night. And on the weekends, I made sure to go visit friends in other cities. Back at my parents' and it was 2 glasses at dinner, then a glass from my mom's box wine hidden under the sink (yes, she's an alcoholic, a fact that the whole family is aware of - when I told my sister I'm an alcoholic and I've been going to AA she said, "But... you're nothing like mom."), and then another glass for good measure, and more days with friends. When I went to visit them over 4 July weekend, we were playing bananagrams and my mom had bought some cheap margarita mix thing - something I would have turned my nose up to before, but now it seemed fun and yummy. And I kept pouring. And pouring. We were having fun and I wanted to be chill. I wasn't smoking and I wanted to relax. I wanted to not care that my sister and I are competitive. I wanted to lose control over the tenseness around my dad's health.

Control. I can't hang on to it. I don't have it. So, I've got to give it to someone. And I wasn't always such a control freak. Younger me was more spontaneous, flowing freely with whatever happened, accepting the changes in life.

So, my higher power. I need my higher power to take control and have the control to help me when I can't. Stronger than me.

Blessing. Amazing. Goes without saying this super higher power superhero is omniscient, omnipotent, etc... Proud of me when I succeed at recognizing what my path is and act on it. Creator of destiny, but allows me to find my way to it - and hopes I recognize it when I realize it. Gift and wish granter. Caring. Teacher - helping me to learn from my suffering and challenges, that those are great growth periods. Has an understanding greater than I do: of the reasons why, of the how, of the why nows, of the interaction of molecules and electrons, of life and death. Oh, and likes really good music, great food, and has the coolest, most super intelligent friends.

At least, that's it for now.

1 comment:

Albert Melfo said...

Sounds like our HP's know each other!

May I recommend a book to you? Based on this post, I really think it would be a good companion for you right now -- "Women Who Run with the Wolves" by Clarissa Pinkola-Estes.

Goodspeed, Lo!