Bill W
06-16-2004, 10:34 AM
But as time passed we found that with the help of A.A.'s Twelve Steps
we could lose those fears, no matter what our material prospects were.
We could cheerfully perform humble labor without worrying about
tomorrow. If our circumstances happened to be good, we no longer
dreaded a change for the worse, for we had learned that these troubles
could be turned into great values. It did not matter too much what our
material condition was, but it did matter what our spiritual condition
was. Money gradually became our servant and not our master. It became
a means of exchanging love and service with those about us. When, with
God's help, we calmly accepted our lot, then we found we could live at
peace with ourselves and show others who still suffered the same fears
that they could get over them, too. We found that freedom from fear
was more important than freedom from want.
Let's here take note of our improved outlook upon the problems of
personal importance, power, ambition, and leadership. These were reefs
upon which many of us came to shipwreck during our drinking careers.
Practically every boy in the United States dreams of becoming our
President. He wants to be his country's number one man. As he gets
older and sees the impossibility of this, he can smile good-naturedly
at his childhood dream. In later life he finds that real happiness is
not to be found in just trying to be a number one man, or even a
first-rater in the heartbreaking struggle for money, romance, or
self-importance. He learns that he can be content as long as he plays
well whatever cards life deals him. He's still ambitious, but not
absurdly so, because he can now see and accept actual reality. He's
willing to stay right size.
But not so with alcoholics. When A.A. was quite young, a number of
eminent psychologists and doctors made an exhaustive study of a
good-sized group of so-called problem drinkers. The doctors weren't
trying to find how different we were from one another; they sought to
find whatever personality traits, if any, this group of alcoholics had
in common. They finally came up with a conclusion that shocked the
A.A. members of that time. These distinguished men had the nerve to
say that most of the alcoholics under investigation were still
childish, emotionally sensitive, and grandiose.
How we alcoholics did resent that verdict! We would not believe that
our adult dreams were often truly childish. And considering the rough
deal life had given us, we felt it perfectly natural that we were
sensitive. As to our grandiose behavior, we insisted that we had been
possessed of nothing but a high and legitimate ambition to win the
battle of life.
In the years since, however, most of us have come to agree with those
doctors. We have had a much keener look at ourselves and those about
us. We have seen that we were prodded by unreasonable fears or
anxieties into making a life business of winning fame, money, and what
we thought was leadership. So false pride became the reverse side of
that ruinous coin marked "Fear." We simply had to be number one people
to cover up our deep-lying inferiorities. In fitful successes we
boasted of greater feats to be done; in defeat we were bitter. If we
didn't have much of any worldly success we became depressed and cowed.
Then people said we were of the "inferior" type. But now we see
ourselves as chips off the same old block. At heart we had all been
abnormally fearful. It mattered little whether we had sat on the shore
of life drinking ourselves into forgetfulness or had plunged in
recklessly and willfully beyond our depth and ability. The result was
the same--all of us had nearly perished in a sea of alcohol.
But today, in well-matured A.A.'s, these distorted drives have been
restored to something like their true purpose and direction. We no
longer strive to dominate or rule those about us in order to gain
self-importance. We no longer seek fame and honor in order to be
praised. When by devoted service to family, friends, business, or
community we attract widespread affection and are sometimes singled
out for posts of greater responsibility and trust, we try to be humbly
grateful and exert ourselves the more in a spirit of love and service.
True leadership, we find, depends upon able example and not upon vain
displays of power or glory.
Still more wonderful is the feeling that we do not have to be
specially distinguished among our fellows in order to be useful and
profoundly happy. Not many of us can be leaders of prominence, nor do
we wish to be. Service, gladly rendered, obligations squarely met,
troubles well accepted or solved with God's help, the knowledge that
at home or in the world outside we are partners in a common effort,
the well-understood fact that in God's sight all human beings are
important, the proof that love freely given surely brings a full
return, the certainty that we are no longer isolated and alone in
self-constructed prisons, the surety that we need no longer be square
pegs in round holes but can fit and belong in God's scheme of
things--these are the permanent and legitimate satisfactions of right
living for which no amount of pomp and circumstance, no heap of
material possessions, could possibly be substitutes. True ambition is
not what we thought it was. True ambition is the deep desire to live
usefully and walk humbly under the grace of God.
we could lose those fears, no matter what our material prospects were.
We could cheerfully perform humble labor without worrying about
tomorrow. If our circumstances happened to be good, we no longer
dreaded a change for the worse, for we had learned that these troubles
could be turned into great values. It did not matter too much what our
material condition was, but it did matter what our spiritual condition
was. Money gradually became our servant and not our master. It became
a means of exchanging love and service with those about us. When, with
God's help, we calmly accepted our lot, then we found we could live at
peace with ourselves and show others who still suffered the same fears
that they could get over them, too. We found that freedom from fear
was more important than freedom from want.
Let's here take note of our improved outlook upon the problems of
personal importance, power, ambition, and leadership. These were reefs
upon which many of us came to shipwreck during our drinking careers.
Practically every boy in the United States dreams of becoming our
President. He wants to be his country's number one man. As he gets
older and sees the impossibility of this, he can smile good-naturedly
at his childhood dream. In later life he finds that real happiness is
not to be found in just trying to be a number one man, or even a
first-rater in the heartbreaking struggle for money, romance, or
self-importance. He learns that he can be content as long as he plays
well whatever cards life deals him. He's still ambitious, but not
absurdly so, because he can now see and accept actual reality. He's
willing to stay right size.
But not so with alcoholics. When A.A. was quite young, a number of
eminent psychologists and doctors made an exhaustive study of a
good-sized group of so-called problem drinkers. The doctors weren't
trying to find how different we were from one another; they sought to
find whatever personality traits, if any, this group of alcoholics had
in common. They finally came up with a conclusion that shocked the
A.A. members of that time. These distinguished men had the nerve to
say that most of the alcoholics under investigation were still
childish, emotionally sensitive, and grandiose.
How we alcoholics did resent that verdict! We would not believe that
our adult dreams were often truly childish. And considering the rough
deal life had given us, we felt it perfectly natural that we were
sensitive. As to our grandiose behavior, we insisted that we had been
possessed of nothing but a high and legitimate ambition to win the
battle of life.
In the years since, however, most of us have come to agree with those
doctors. We have had a much keener look at ourselves and those about
us. We have seen that we were prodded by unreasonable fears or
anxieties into making a life business of winning fame, money, and what
we thought was leadership. So false pride became the reverse side of
that ruinous coin marked "Fear." We simply had to be number one people
to cover up our deep-lying inferiorities. In fitful successes we
boasted of greater feats to be done; in defeat we were bitter. If we
didn't have much of any worldly success we became depressed and cowed.
Then people said we were of the "inferior" type. But now we see
ourselves as chips off the same old block. At heart we had all been
abnormally fearful. It mattered little whether we had sat on the shore
of life drinking ourselves into forgetfulness or had plunged in
recklessly and willfully beyond our depth and ability. The result was
the same--all of us had nearly perished in a sea of alcohol.
But today, in well-matured A.A.'s, these distorted drives have been
restored to something like their true purpose and direction. We no
longer strive to dominate or rule those about us in order to gain
self-importance. We no longer seek fame and honor in order to be
praised. When by devoted service to family, friends, business, or
community we attract widespread affection and are sometimes singled
out for posts of greater responsibility and trust, we try to be humbly
grateful and exert ourselves the more in a spirit of love and service.
True leadership, we find, depends upon able example and not upon vain
displays of power or glory.
Still more wonderful is the feeling that we do not have to be
specially distinguished among our fellows in order to be useful and
profoundly happy. Not many of us can be leaders of prominence, nor do
we wish to be. Service, gladly rendered, obligations squarely met,
troubles well accepted or solved with God's help, the knowledge that
at home or in the world outside we are partners in a common effort,
the well-understood fact that in God's sight all human beings are
important, the proof that love freely given surely brings a full
return, the certainty that we are no longer isolated and alone in
self-constructed prisons, the surety that we need no longer be square
pegs in round holes but can fit and belong in God's scheme of
things--these are the permanent and legitimate satisfactions of right
living for which no amount of pomp and circumstance, no heap of
material possessions, could possibly be substitutes. True ambition is
not what we thought it was. True ambition is the deep desire to live
usefully and walk humbly under the grace of God.