On Step Eleven

This is the eleventh in a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, I explore one of the 12 Steps through my own experience as a Yoga practitioner. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) it is a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.

“Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God’s will for us and the power to carry that out.”

There are times I can’t see you

can’t feel you

don’t know you exist

I forget so easily

slip too far down the path all alone

turning back, the wood has closed in

in a moment of panic, I struggle

reach for whatever is there, for comfort

stopping short, I remember you

and that moment years ago, when I asked:

please take this from me.

and you answered

by taking it away

and opening everything to me

slowly, in ways I can only really understand

by looking back.

now I need only ask:

please take this from me.

take this solitude, this imperviousness, this rugged individualism

that leaves me stranded in the woods

trying to figure it all out

I can’t figure it all out

shine the light

show the way

and I’ll follow.

On Step Ten

This is the tenth in a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, I explore one of the 12 Steps through my own experience as a Yoga practitioner. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) it is a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.

“Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.”

grant me

awareness

consciousness of my biases

mindfulness of the limitations of perspective

grant me

willingness

to open the door and look inside

to see what’s really there

grant me

humility

knowledge there is more to learn, always

skillfulness to reflect, accept, and respond

grant me

grace

space to exist, clumsily

to no longer walk on a tightrope of perfectionism

to no longer fear every misstep a catastrophe

grant me

courage to admit fault

time to sit in the bog of being wrong

and energy to do better, next time

grant me

a next time

Today I Was Grateful

This is the second writing with the prompt, Today I Was Grateful. The first can be found here. I invite you to set a timer for five or ten minutes, take a breath, and write with this prompt. What if it were true?

I once heard a man who seemed to know what he was talking about

say the opposite of addiction is connection.

I had to think about it, for a moment.

Still so clear in my memory

What surely were sublime moments slipping downward into a gooey sticky glass of rosé

Thinking, ahhhhh. this must be the place

On warm days like these, slumping into my sofa

The rest of the day, wasted in numbness and dreamy imaginings

Everything at once, and in my own little world.

I think that man was right.

The dissolution of everything that was really me

The feeling that I didn’t really know me, not really

And this new day, somehow, in letting go of knowing, knowing arises

The head nods from other sober souls, feeling along

Finding one anothers’ clasped hands

Knowing glances and “thank you for sharing”s

Those moments built a house for me, solid walls replacing hazy pink absence

And soon, I found I had my own body, my own mind,

And connection: my own inner resource

Its vibrance welling up inside me daily

Flowing through once-nearly-dead tissues, limbs, and bones

Bringing the Source itself right to the surface of me.

No longer needing to drown, I now float, held, lifted, buoyed by the love that brings peace,

Inseparable.

Today I Was Grateful

This morning

Tiptoeing barefoot outside into the warmth

Plucking sweet figs from the bush

Today, only two, when

Just weeks ago there would have been

twelve, or twenty.

Swollen, sweet, an offering from the Mother herself

the child of earth and sun and rain.

Things are like that, aren’t they?

That which brings sweet joy ever shifting, ever changing.

Nothing lasts.

The annoyance of what do do with all these figs

becomes, how precious these two, today.

But that fig became my body

Sweet warmth absorbed into my body

Bringing brightness, energy, satisfaction,

And with it, a feeling that things must be okay, after all, in this small way.

The eight year old bush

was stingy, those first years yielding only a few dissatisfying hard green buds

Now reliably birthing her fruits every August and September

When the time is right

When sun and rain come steady and sure

And now, even now, when all is coming and going

There are still figs to pick, sweetness to be had

And soon, there will be pine cones to start fires

And holly branches for the table,

snatched quickly from the cold with bundled fingers.

There is much to be grateful for, even now.

On Step Nine

This is the ninth in a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, I explore one of the 12 Steps through my own experience as a Yoga practitioner. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) it is a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.

“Made direct amends to those people we have harmed, except when to do so would injure them or others.”

The word “amend” means “change”- in this context, changed behavior and perhaps more important, changed qualities of Being. Pride to humility; resentment to loving kindness; judgement to compassion; attachment and avoidance to equanimity and acceptance; greed to generosity. The intent of the ninth step is to clear our own consciousness from the pain of the past and set forth on a path of new life. It is not about making others forgive us for our behavior!

Having become fully willing to change the trajectory of my life and recovery by changing my behavior, I commence to look at those relationships that still sit in a state of disrepair or incomplete repair. I consider what type of change would be necessary on my part to make things right. Even though my voice may shake and my courage may waver, I make contact with those my words and actions have harmed. Before doing so, I consider:

Harm is a word very specifically chosen. Have I stolen or diminished someone’s livelihood, dignity, or health? Have my words and actions made someone’s life harder, or caused suffering or pain?

If the answer is “yes,” with help from my trusted confidante (usually a sponsor), I consider ways to make change through verbal or written contact, if that person can be located. This may include an apology, and acknowledgement of harm, and a desire to initiate repair, if the person is open to repair. In cases where someone cannot be located, or is deceased, written amends in the form of letters of intent, or meditative symbolic amends may be made to humbly seal the commitment to change. Alternately, gestures of service may be made in situations where communities of people have been harmed. This service should be offered without public mention or expectation of credit or reward.

“We need to trust timing, intuition, and guidance in this process of making amends. Once we become willing, we can let go and tackle our amends in a peaceful, consistent, harmonious way. It nothing feels right or appropriate, if it feels as if what we are about to do will cause a crisis or havoc, we need to trust that feeling.” -Melody Beattie, The Language of Letting Go

Is there a possibility that my amends would make this person’s life worse- or could prolong or exacerbate the harm already inflicted? If so, letters, meditative amends, and acts of service may also be more appropriate until and if circumstances change.

The point is the effort in making the change. We will not change overnight. It’s “progress, not perfection.” This is where patience and all of the practices we’ve adopted up to this point will help carry us through. We had faith enough to believe in restoration from the devastation of addictive behavior. We had faith enough in another person and our higher power to help us see our work more clearly and we have had the courage up until now to do what was suggested. We have our prayers, our practice, and our recovery community. We must trust that in time, we will feel different, and things will improve.

This is not easy work. It is a necessary step, though- and in my experience personally and working with others, having made every type of amends mentioned above, the change in my outlook is usually remarkable, and happens very quickly. The simple fact is that harm inflicted on others harms me, too- and the reverse is true. “Hurt people hurt people.” I know it on the inside, it feels as if it eats me alive and could lead to emotional or actual relapse if not fully addressed. So repair on the outside is healing on the inside. And even in cases where repair is not possible, the move to make change and to take responsibility is immediately empowering and often leads to a shift in other relationships- both inwardly and outwardly.

In my case, I was encouraged to deeply consider putting myself on the list of those I had harmed- and in the ninth step, to make tangible steps to take better care of myself. This meant considering my relationships in terms of harms I had allowed to be done to me. In those instances, I could decide what relationships I wanted to either ease off from, or nurture toward clarity and integrity. Knowing I could decide this was a critical step toward understanding that often, relationships are a choice. Eventually, this shift would impact my work in the community, and the vision I had for future relationships.

I’ve been on the receiving end of amends- someone was trying to do better by me, trying to live into new behavior and repaired relationship. I had to ask myself if I was willing to lay down my pride and acknowledge the effort, accept the gesture and let myself lean into the clearing that was happening. In some cases this was not possible- still, I could appreciate the effort and decide without malice to walk away from that relationship. In others, it was freeing in a different way, and led to healing, growth, and intimacy. It felt good to see and feel that I could forgive the behavior and honor the relationship. And in the last three steps, loving, healthy, sustainable relationships with ourselves, others, and our higher power are the focus.

On The Bodies

This is a sort of “mission statement” that I often encourage writers to compose from time to time. A teaching I heard once is that there is a time to flap our wings and a time to soar. The mission statement gives us a moment to pause, see where we are, and where we are going, and enjoy reflecting on our reasons for being here. A moment to soar. This was my recent moment to soar, written early in the day, the first day of our Yoga, Writing, and Recovery series, Writing on the Bodies: The Koshas In Recovery.

I am not my body, and yet here it is, growing, changing, becoming stronger in some ways, weaker in others; the skin and bones and structure shifting day by day, moment by moment, sometimes spacious, other times constricted.

I am not my energy, and yet here it is: the flow of life in me, resilient- fluid, or stuck; bright and clear, or stagnant and heavy, or somewhere in between.

I am not my mind, and yet here it is: full of memories, happy and sad thoughts, resentments and opinions and bad attitudes; and warm, tender, kind thoughts, too.

I am not my character, these things I’ve done, or not done, ways I’ve reached out, or avoided, and yet, here it is: as I’ve stepped beyond the limits of comfort toward understanding and acceptance; or closed off completely, though I’d wished better of myself.

I am not this great heart within, or these identities I hold, and yet, there they are, that great spirit, that source; and me; I am a part of it and it is a part of me that these years of recovery have shown me is ever-present, undeniable, unconditional, and joyous, even in hard times.

Years ago I made the decision to include these parts of me, to get real with myself, to find the route inward to spirit, to drop anchor, to trust the waves of knowing and unknowing, to find the safe harbors which hold my people. To listen, withholding judgment. To neither exalt nor diminish joy or sorrow. To understand that everything has a purpose. Nothing is wasted.

I made the decision to see things differently. To see how the tide changes, and the view, and the way the waves strike the boat, violently; or lap quietly against my awareness. To expand my vision, to let my mind be changed when new information comes. To see my story in a new way, to revisit the past with fresh perspective- and when that was not possible, to take care of myself until the confusion passes and things become clearer.

I made the decision to understand the inner workings of the mind, to understand how things happen, how we suffer, and why; to discern wise action from unwise, to listen to the teachers, the elders who walked this path long before me; made the decision to let the wheel be the wheel, and not to re-invent it but to find my own clunky language to communicate what I was learning- what I’m still learning.

I made the decision to move and speak in a way that centers the heart- though I will forget, say things that are abrupt, or unkind, resist my own heart and become self-righteous, I try to remember to be gracious, to forgive, to extend my heart through compassion that says: I know that feeling. I’ve felt it before. I know what it was like to suffer long nights, or gritty mornings, with interminable grief or anguish or embarrassment or regret and, not knowing any other way, to say, I surrender. Show me a different way. Please, take this from me.

I made the decision to be in this body, but not of it; to be in this mind, but not of it; to be in this world, but not of it. To be a part of things without becoming the things themselves. To trust the process and the flow of life to lead me where I am meant to be.

Each day I make this decision: To be here. To be a part of life, to make the space, to find the joy, the delight, through the waves of being.

On Step Eight (Keeping It Simple)

This is the eighth in a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, I explore one of the 12 Steps through my own experience as a Yoga practitioner. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) it is a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.

“Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.”

In my experience, here is the essence of Step 8:

In my human-ness, and especially in the depths of my active addiction, I know I’ve caused harm. I’ve been selfish, or reckless, or cynical, or controlling, or I’ve withheld my love and kindness when I knew better. Operating from my craving mind, my relationships have suffered. My attachment to control and comfort have led to harmful outcomes. I hold those people I’ve harmed with my behavior in my mind and heart, and I imagine making things better.

My intent is to become ready to make amends wherever my actions have caused harm- through conflict, ill will, or negligence.

My intent today is to change my relationships.

My intent is to further clarify what is- and is not- mine to carry.

My intent is to become open, kind, and loving.

My intent is to find and practice generosity of spirit, appreciation, and kinship toward those even with whom there is pain.

May I move from selfish grasping to clarity and a lightness of heart.

May I find the courage inside my lightened heart to make things right.

May I open my voice, laying down the names of those my actions have affected, to an offering of kindness.

May I find the willingness to change as the fire of courage begins to burn inside me.

May I be the one with the strength and fortitude to do the right thing.

May I be open to receiving guidance toward whatever actions will heal, resolve, and repair the wounds of the past and present.

May my commitment to this path remain strong and steady, despite whatever uncertainty, fear and shame may arise in me as I reflect on my past mistakes and imagine the future.

May I emerge from this challenging time freer, clearer, and with greater self knowledge and self trust than ever before.

On Step Six and Step Seven (Keeping It Simple)

This is the sixth and seventh in a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, I explore one of the 12 Steps through my own experience as a Yoga practitioner. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) it is a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.

On Step Six:

“Became willing to have God remove all these defects of character.”

Because I am human, I am bound to make mistakes, experience fear, and cause suffering.

Do I want to feel differently?

Do I want to relate differently?

Am I willing to see my fears, my resentments, my conflicts and my conditioning as information, as fuel for growth?

Am I willing to let life unfold in a way that shows me opportunities for change and reveals chances to move in integrity with who I am becoming- who I really am, beneath it all?

Am I willing to take steady, meaningful action to become clearer and clearer about the way forward that is being revealed to me every day?

On Step Seven:

“Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.”

Because I am human, I am bound to find myself stuck in patterns of suffering from which I deeply desire release.

In every subsequent interaction, may I become humble, and remember I don’t have all the answers- unless I am willing to seek them.

May I be willing to see where I can pause, reflect, see the situation and my part in it clearly, and take effortless action that supports the cleanest of relations possible.

May I pause with the self pity, dishonesty, self-will, self-seeking and fear that arises in response to life situations.

May I become willing to take a different path, to see myself, things and people differently.

May I be present with the suffering that arises without attachment or aversion.

May the obstacles in my path reveal new opportunities for me to act in integrity with my truest, deepest self.

May I act without contempt, resentment, or malice.

May I reaffirm this commitment each and every day, with clear eyes and an open heart.

On Devotion

This is a piece I wrote for a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, on the second Tuesday, we explore one of the concepts in Yoga through our own experiences in recovery. On this day, our focus was isvara-pranidhana, or devotion to God or Spirit. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) the 12 Steps and Yoga offer a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.

I cannot say that isvara-pranidhana, or devotion to Spirit, comes naturally to me. Quite the contrary- as an addict, my default seems to be inner resistance to anything resembling an authority figure or guide. But it is in those moments of total surrender- letting go of outcomes, resting in what is, trusting that understanding and learning will unfold, taking the wisdom and skill I’ve learned from my teachers over the years and committing to being more patient, more kind, more loving, more accepting, and more grateful- those moments give me more peace and contentment than anything else I practice. In those moments I’m less in my head and more in my heart. And in those moments I am practicing something approaching total devotion.

In my best moments, I can step back from serving my own immediate needs for comfort, certainty, right-ness, and control, and serve the goodness that is possible, that which is just, that which is balanced, that which allows, that which guides and directs and protects. Serving a power greater than myself provides boundless serenity and I begin to experience for myself what “happy, joyous and free” truly feel like.

When I started to re-orient my life toward serving something other than myself and my needs, things started to get better. I noticed less gripping, less contraction and resistance inside. It’s not to say I never felt anything hard again- quite the opposite- but I began to want to see things differently. Working the steps helped me get there, as did lots and lots of meditation. I realized that there are so many things I just do not know. Worrying less about the things I don’t know (and can’t change) frees up my energy to focus my efforts on what feels right, useful, and purposeful each day. I’ve learned that being present with myself keeps me from becoming impatient- from wanting things to happen quicker or in a different way than they are. So, being in a state of surrender about life makes it possible for me to do a little each day.

As a person active in the world (I don’t think I can claim the title “activist”- and I try to stay away from identity labels these days) and committed to individual and collective change, there’s a tension for me. How can I find peace in letting things be as they are, when they are so terrible for so many?

The answer is: I don’t have a choice.

For me, the ability to do meaningful work comes with the capacity to let go. To not let go, for me, means to grip to the point of unsustainability, exhaustion, and total resignation. In my 12 Step community we’re called to become people to whom others would look to for guidance, from our humility and our experience. If my aim is to serve the goodness that is possible, how am I to set that example if I make my efforts contingent upon expectations? I know that as humans, our tendency is to create and experience suffering— equally though, is our capacity to grow and change. I hold both as I do this work and choose to uplift the examples of change happening in my community. No-one among us is perfect. Many of us are, however, willing to grow. And we need more people to become willing to grow.

One of the things that was modeled for me, early on, was the teaching that just as important as what we do is how we do it. If I’m moving from a place of fear and control I’m only going to re-energize that pathway in myself. I won’t have the courage and ease to keep going. Being courageous and easeful were qualities I wanted and would go to any length to get, in the early days. My teachers Nikki and Rolf embodied them, and I learned to try to embody them, too.

Most of the ways I learned to practice devotion came in my ethical commitments to my community. I learned to try to be honorable and consistent. These qualities were not familiar to me as a young person— so I’m incredibly grateful for the example of my teachers before me who showed me what honoring commitments looks like. I’m forever grateful for their example of quiet and steadfast devotion through service.

I’ve struggled over the past several years to know how to lead in this moment, a time when the world is emotionally and physically on fire and so many of our so-called leaders are breaking their stated ethical commitments in order to regain or retain power. But I learned to keep it simple and to teach what I know and practice. In the early days of the pandemic I made a commitment to be there for my community in whatever small way I could, as consistently as I could, even as imperfectly as I knew I surely would— and it has served my own recovery well. I knew I needed to keep up my practices in order to do that. And I knew that if I did all of that from a place of devotion— to serve Spirit by serving one another— I might have a chance to find a way, and to make it through. As it turns out, in this case, I was right.

On Step Five

This is the fifth in a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, I explore one of the 12 Steps through my own experience as a Yoga practitioner. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) it is a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.

“Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

Carrying painful memories and secrets, it is said, keeps us sick. The amount of mental energy needed to repress, compensate for, or hide difficult truths depleted my vitality. Yet in recovery I realized early on that it wasn’t possible to be completely open and honest all the time, so the instruction that I only admit to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs was a big relief. It turns out this was a protective mechanism for my spiritual life too. Living all my truths completely open can start to feel performative. I’ve witnessed various forms of what I sometimes hear called “Traumalympics” and anytime I’ve fallen prey to that, I can feel it. There’s a sharing hangover that can happen. The body always lets me know. I’ve learned to speak my truth, as it says in the 12 step literature, “in a general way.”

What I’ve come to know, though, is that for any meaningful recovery to take root I need a release valve through which I can share all the parts of myself- if not, irritability, anxiety, remorse and depression can take root. Over the years I’ve heard many recovering people share social awkwardness, a lack of belonging, and painful feelings of isolation from others. As humans we’re social animals, and while some of us are more oriented to a few close relationships, others thrive in larger groups. Whatever our nature, introvert or extrovert, it’s important to have supportive spiritual friendships. In 12 Step recovery it’s a sponsor who usually fulfills this primary role; but anyone we trust can listen to us share our story.

In sharing the details of my life before getting sober, I began to see that what I thought was so terrible was really not that unusual, and that what I felt was shameful was really quite understandable given the circumstances. Many things that I was sure were wrong could become possibilities for insight and, often, amended behavior. The overwhelming truth I arrived at is that I didn’t really know myself, and this process of unveiling the past was absolutely necessary to move toward building a hopeful future. How would I have been available to help others if I didn’t have a model for how to do that?

The first sponsor I had was so incredibly compassionate and kind. For a time I was uncomfortable with that depth of acceptance. It was foreign to me, and for a time, I rejected it and all loving suggestions that came with it. But over time I became comfortable with the idea that I needed that listening ear, that offering of perspective, and especially, that space of non-judgement. That was one of my first examples how to offer that space to others, too.

I know I could have done some version of recovery on my own, but today, I know it wouldn’t have worked very well. And today, I’m grateful that I didn’t have to and I would not want to try going it alone.

As I found my voice in recovery, I found that the shame of carrying secrets of a painful history began to lift. I found the right balance between openness and oversharing. I found support in my new friendships in recovery. And I found that just talking and listening to others was healing in and of itself. Talking things through allowed Spirit to emerge in the space. I began to feel the presence of a power much greater than my own taking over. I often was struck with the sensation that whatever was coming up was exactly what needed to be heard or said. And most times, I could not have planned or directed what unfolded. That’s how I began to see that Spirit works. I didn’t even need to formally address “God” - just holding the intention, while sharing, to serve a higher purpose became a catalyst for more openness, freedom and possibility.

I could begin to see that when the time was right, whatever was needed would arrive and I could trust that I’d know what to say, or not say; to do, or not do. This took time and lots of mistakes, but I began to feel more at ease and less constricted. I breathed easier, and felt more and more grounded- which made me want to grow even more in my recovery. It’s true that repetition can breed familiarity (and in my case, ease of heart).

I found myself writing more because the insights would come faster than I could remember to share them. I filled notebooks with stories, narrative streams of consciousness, and poems. Most of what I’ve written would be unreadable to the outside person, but it didn’t matter. There was an opening of the voice that made it possible for me to go forward and trust that the way would become clearer and clearer. Working Step 5 was an important piece of that. I’ll never be able to properly express my gratitude for that time- as uncomfortable as it was, it changed everything and made it possible for me to change, too.

Every second Wednesday from April through July, we practice and write together in community. If you are interested in joining us for Yoga, Writing, and Recovery, sign up here for more information.