Experience has taught me this, that we undo ourselves by impatience. Misfortunes have their
life and their limits, their sickness and their health.

--Montaigne


Our program isn't working. We are misunderstood. Nothing's going well at work. We just can't see it through. Why
doesn't someone help us? 

Impatience! We become fretful and blame others for our shortcomings. 

Impatience! We lose touch with the tempo of life and our own particular rhythm. 

Impatience! We are convinced our addiction will never cease tormenting us. 

Let's slow down and get back in touch with life's movement. We know that all things have their season and their motion and their end. It may feel like winter now, but spring will come and then summer. Nothing remains static; everything changes and grows. There is a pattern to all life including ours -- if we are patient enough to discern it. 

I need to slow down to get in touch with the rhythms of my life and life outside me. 


You are reading from the book:


 Answers in the Heart by Anonymous

We fear to trust our wings. We plume and feather them, but dare not throw our
weight upon them. We cling too often to the perch.
--Charles B. Newcomb

Even before it has learned to fly; a baby bird is pushed from its nest. It will
totter upon the ground, stubby wings outstretched from its body, following the
guiding cries of its parents to flap its wings and take flight.

When we were young, our wings hadn't even developed before we began tottering through
life. We may have received little direction about how to fly. As we grew, we may
have built a nest and retreated within it, still not knowing how to fly.

Although our wings have not been used, we can still learn to fly.
There are those who can teach us at meetings. They, too, have had to learn to
fly after years of nest sitting. It isn't easy at first. In fact, it may be
quite painful and tiring. But by trying out our wings every day, they will grow
stronger and more familiar to us. Our nest will always be there, but we won't
have to visit it as often. We'll be too busy flying and testing our wings.


I can begin to learn the freedom of flight and trust my wings.
 
You are reading from the book:


 Night Light by Amy E. Dean

Isn't it great life is open-ended!
--Brigitte Frase


Elizabeth Lawton, known as "Grandma Layton," is an American artist who never drew a picture until she was 68 years old. She spent all the years before that time trying to cope with depression. She had gone through therapy, medications, and shock treatment and continued to be severely depressed. But then she signed up for an art class and the act of drawing cured her depression.

 What does she think about the critical acclaim her artwork has received? She says she wants others to know about her art so it may give hope to those who have also "suffered from feelings."

 Many of us have suffered from feelings. We must remember that we can each turn to our creativity--at any age--as a source for our well-being. All we need to do is have faith in the potential goodness within ourselves and those we love.


What creative activity can I look to for comfort today?


You are reading from the book:


 Today's Gift by
Anonymous

Hunger serves us well. Physical hunger prompts us to eat the food we need to promote and maintain health. Emotional hunger sends us in search of companionship, intimacy, and love. Our hunger for achievement fuels our contribution to the work of the world. And our spiritual hunger leads us to a Power greater than ourselves. Peace, unity, goodwill all of these and more, we hunger for.

If we find ourselves trying to satisfy our hunger in ways that don't work, it's time to reassess and make changes. That's what we do when we come to the Twelve Step program, admitting that our false satisfactions have gotten out of hand and are threatening destruction.

The satisfaction of our various hungers is within reach. Much of what we crave we will find within ourselves as we develop a relationship with a Higher Power.


I will explore my hunger today, so that it may lead me to what satisfies.

You are reading from the book:

Inner Harvest by Elisabeth L.

Good Grief

"The strangest thing happened," said my friend, a lovably neurotic, very obsessive businessman in his mid-forties.

"I was watching one of those afternoon TV talk shows. This one was about problem kids. A parent comes on. She talks about how out of control her child is. Then a parenting expert comes on. He does tough love with the kids, like a drill sergeant, screaming and getting in their faces. Then he takes the troubled kids for a week and straightens them out.

"So this nine-year-old boy comes on. He's been a monster. Killing animals in the neighborhood. Driving his mother nuts. The drill sergeant guy gets right up in this kid's face. He's screaming. 'You think you're tough? You're a tough guy?'

"The expert's screaming at the kid. The kid is just standing there. And I'm watching this thinking, 'Maybe this kid is just a bad seed.'

"'How'd you like me to come home with you for a week? Be in your face like this all the time,' the expert hollered. 'Would you like that?'

"'Yes,' the boy said.

"'What did you say? Yes? You'd like that? Why would you like that?'

"'Because I don't have a dad,'" the kid said. The boy's lip quivered. The expert got silent. The audience went nuts. But that's not the strange thing," my friend said. "Melody, I started crying. Sobbing like a baby. I haven't cried for ten years."

"What do you think that was about?" I asked.

"I realized how much I missed having a dad," he said. "When people asked me, I always said it wasn't important. I didn't know until I saw that show and started crying that you could miss something you never had."

Sometimes we don't know what or whom we're missing.

"How can I stop feeling so blue about being separated from my children?" another friend asked when business had taken him away from home for a month.

"You're asking the wrong person," I said. "It has been eleven years since my son died, and I still miss him every day."

Grief. It may strike suddenly, catching our heart by surprise. Or it may pound relentlessly and persistently for years, like ocean waves beating on the shore.

Whether we're conscious of what or whom we're missing, our heart knows. We may never be happy about our loss, but it is possible to be happy again.

Grief isn't an abnormal condition. It's nature's way of healing our heart.


You are reading from the book:



52 Weeks of Conscious Contact by Melody Beattie

Always think of what you have to do as easy and it will become so.
--Emile Corie

How we think about the activities before us is very important. If we think cleaning the garage is hard, dirty, and no chance for fun, that's just how it will feel. We'll be tired before we even begin. However, if we approach it like a treasure hunt, expecting to rediscover some long-forgotten treasures, we'll enjoy the task. In fact, it will feel like a game.

The thoughts we carry in our minds determine whether our tasks are fun or not. What good fortune it is that we can control those thoughts. If we approach an assignment for school or a job believing that we're able to do it, that it's not too hard for us, we'll finish with ease. Our thoughts determine our successes. In this way, our lives are in our own hands.

How much better can I make my life today?

You are reading from the book:


Today's Gift by Anonymous