​“I think I’m doing pretty darn good in this OA program.  I don’t think about food very much anymore.  I go to meetings and try to be of service.  My clothes are fitting quite nicely, thank you very much.  I think I’m going to take a break from all this OA busyness.  Thank you OA, but I’ve got it from here.”
 
Oh, aren’t those words I’ve thought about saying more than once?  When can I stop doing this?  It takes so much time and effort and don’t you know that I really am starting to like myself now?  I’ve got all the information I need to set me on the right path.  Off I go….
 
Wow! For me, that type of thinking is indicative of the lies I tell myself.
 
What I know to be true is that the night I believed the lies that “I’m ok now, I’m at a normal body weight so it won’t matter and I just want it!” was the night my food addiction came waltzing right back in.  Waltzing like a gorilla, that is.  It picked me up and threw me down, and you know what they say, “When you’re dancing with a gorilla, you’re not done until the gorilla says you’re done.”
 
Yes this program takes time, but the results give me a life of peace. Peace with myself, peace with my Higher Power and peace with those around me.  It is true what they say that we never graduate from this Twelve Step program.  It is a design for living that works and as long as I’m living, I want to follow this design!
 
The Big Book of AA says:  “We are not cured of alcoholism.  What we really have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th edition, page 85)
 
Today, I know, that I know, that I know, I am an addict.  I will always need this Twelve Step program to guide me.  There is no leaving it behind because I’m tired of doing it. Well, there is, but the gorilla is waiting and I truly don’t want to dance anymore!
 
Gratefully done dancing,
 
Nadine D. – Region One

Last weekend I had the chance to attend a virtual retreat sponsored by North Cascade Intergroup.  Although the retreat took place over the entire weekend, my schedule allowed me to pop in only for Saturday afternoon.  
 
Finding she had a bit more time following a review of Steps 8 and 9, the speaker turned to one of my favorite stories in the back of the Big Book (Alcoholics Anonymous), “Acceptance was the Answer.”  Some of you long-timers might know this story by its previous title, "Doctor, Alcoholic, Addict."  Page 449 was frequently quoted by many in our program for the place to go on "acceptance"; now it is on page 417 in the Fourth Edition.  
 
Our speaker shared frank personal examples of her own beliefs and behaviors that matched those of the writer of this story.  Here are a few excerpts that resonated with me:
 
"When I complain about me or about you, I am complaining about God's handiwork.  I am saying I know better than God." (page 417)
 
Yep - I've had a tendency recently to truly believe I know how to run others' lives (Whose lives?  My husband's, daughter's, mother's, for starters).  What an ego!  And what an energy drain to have to think about and point out what others should be doing!  It also seems like I've done a bit too much complaining about what or who isn't ok in my life, when it's exactly the way it should be according to my HP's plan.
 
"When I focus on what's good today, I have a good day, and when I focus on what's bad, I have a bad day.  If I focus on a problem, the problem increases; if I focus on the answer, the answer increases." (page 419) 
 
Just last night after dinner I found myself slipping into the depths of despair. Nothing horrible had happened; evenings can often be times of day when I fall into negativity.  Fortunately, I realized I could adjust my attitude, that things would be ok, and I did the next indicated thing, which happened to be cleaning up the kitchen.  And after a few minutes, I felt better.  
 
And my favorite: 
 
At the bottom of page 413 this physician describes an old idea, and then later, a new idea:
 
"In the hospital I hung on to the idea I'd had most of my life:  that if I could just control the external environment, the internal environment would then become comfortable.  Much of my time was spent writing letters, notes, orders and lists of things for Max, who was also my office nurse, to do to keep the world running while I was locked up."
 
At the top of page 414:  
 
"Each with the other as a witness, we took the Third Step out loud--just as it says in the Big Book.  And life keeps getting simpler and easier as we try to reverse my old idea, by taking care of the internal environment via the Twelve Steps, and letting the external environment take care of itself." 
 
I love that I can become willing to set aside an idea that doesn't work, and pick up one that does.  It's that daily surrender of big or small things, and being open to a different result.    
 
We all love a good story of experience, strength and hope, and I am grateful to our retreat speaker for bringing this one back into my view.
 

Cindy C. – Region One

Lately it has been hard for me to get to meetings.  I love being able to go to a meeting without leaving my house, but sometimes sitting at my computer paying attention for an hour feels like more than I can do, and there often seems to be something else that needs done instead.  But, I know from past experience that not wanting to go to meetings is a “red flag” for me.

One of the advantages of having been in these rooms for years is that people notice when you aren’t showing up as often.  I’m grateful for OA friends who have called to say they’ve missed seeing me, and who have sent text messages saying "I hope to see you at the noon meeting today!"  They’ve helped me get back to where I hear the things I need to hear.

At one such meeting, we read a wonderful story titled “Power of Meetings” (Taste of Lifeline, pages 70-73).   The author shared about her first meeting, which changed her life, and said that meetings continue to be a foundation of her recovery.  This got me thinking about my own first meeting and what meetings have meant to me.  I realized that although “meetings” is technically just ONE of our Tools, they incorporate most of the other Tools as well. 

I attended my first meeting in 1993.  There was only one other person there, but this man put out the sign, led the meeting, shared his phone number, gave me a Big Book (Alcoholics Anonymous), and reviewed the meeting directory with me.  That meeting got me started in OA and introduced me to literature and phone calls.  I also got to be honest about my crazy food and unmanageable life for the first time.  In 2021, I get to give back by helping ensure there is someone there to welcome others to their first meeting—on Zoom.

As I attended more meetings, I met my first sponsor.  That’s really the best place to meet sponsors, right?  When I started sponsoring others (my Step 12 foundation), I connected with those people because we were at the same meeting. Zoom meetings are where they keep the newcomers these days, and I’m grateful to be sponsoring two new people in the past year.

In my early days of program, when the “We Care” list went around the meeting, I wrote names and phone numbers inside the covers of my OA books.  Now my cell phone is chock-full of OA numbers…members I’ve met at both face-to-face and Zoom meetings.

I own just about every OA book published, but I certainly don’t read them all on my own.  On non-meeting days, I might not get around to reading at all.  We fumbled around a bit at first on Zoom, but meetings soon hit their stride and most have chosen one of our amazing, hope-filled books as their focus. 

My first service was setting out chairs at a face-to-face meeting.  Zoom meetings also need people to give service, and it is important for me to step up.  When I say yes to service in a Zoom meeting, it’s easier for me to stay present, and it’s good for me to know I am contributing to the well-being of the meeting.

Meetings are where I learned to listen and give other people my undivided attention, three minutes at a time, without giving advice.  It is a little harder in Zoom meetings, but I’ve found that leaving my video on helps me be accountable for being attentive, and taking notes helps if I'm having trouble staying focused.  When I do these things, I am much more likely to come away thinking “Wow! What a great meeting!”

These days, there are new voices sharing their stories of hope in our meetings—our “world-wide Fellowship” has become an everyday reality.  We’re connected in a way we were not before, and what a boon this must be for meetings in small towns everywhere!

Meetings have provided structure for me—an opportunity to “show up” on an ongoing basis.  I wasn’t happy to have the bottom fall out of that structure a year ago, but I am grateful we as a Fellowship made quick use of the tools at hand to make meetings available again.

I see my OA family at OA meetings.  As a person who (still!) has a tendency to drift toward isolation, the Fellowship is very important for me.  I need to show up and claim my seat (or at least my little square!) at meetings.  I am grateful to be able to do so.

See you on Zoom!  :)
 
​
Beverly M. – Region One 

Our Eleventh Step talks about prayer and meditation. Meditation continues to be a struggle for me. In many practices, one of the first instructions is to close your eyes. Because of my childhood trauma, the idea of closing my eyes doesn’t feel safe for me right now. I feel too exposed. Too vulnerable. I used to use this truth as a weapon against myself. “You think you’re recovered? You can’t even sit with your eyes closed. What kind of an example is that?!” the vicious voice of my disease chimes in at every opportunity.
 
It’s important to note that through working the Twelve Steps with a sponsor, and some outside help, I have experienced recovery beyond my wildest dreams. For the most part, I do not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. I believe in my heart that my experiences can benefit others. I know a new freedom and happiness. I feel useful and I am confident in my abilities. I have talents to share.   So where is my freedom from fear of other people?
 
Program has taught me to accept myself unconditionally. I love and accept my body – a miracle for someone who has tried to starve herself to maintain someone else’s unattainable ideal. I love who I am as a person, another miracle for someone who did not believe she was worth the space she took up in the world. And, I have a self-preservation skill that, so far, I am unable to, and may never be able to, let go of. I have a strong connection to my Higher Power. I know with all of my being that HP is with me 24/7, showing me grace and direction. And still, my instinct, when I try to close my eyes to meditate, is to recoil as if from a hot flame. The miracle here is that I am not a lesser person because of it. I accept it, refuse to let the voice of my disease define me, and remain open to other ways to quiet my mind so I can hear HP’s will for me. Because that is what meditation is all about – strengthening our connection with a power greater than ourselves. How we get there doesn’t matter.
 
So, how do I meditate? I go for a walk. Because of my past, it took a lot of work to be able to walk by myself. I stay vigilant, and present, paying attention to everything that is happening around me. As I do, something amazing happens: my mind begins to clear and I hear and feel an amazing inner silence. An overwhelming sense of peace. I feel safe. And in that safety, a thought materializes that leads me to my next action. A plan forms and I can visualize the path ahead. Random thoughts start to connect and form a coherent picture in my head. As I embrace whatever was just revealed to me, I feel a deep sense of joy.
 
Does this happen every time I walk? Not hardly. As anyone with a meditation practice will tell you, reaching the stillness is not always possible every time you sit. But when it does happen, it is profound and I feel an unbreakable bond with my Higher Power.
 
When I am not able to walk and I am feeling restless, irritable and discontent, I have learned to doodle. I sit at my desk or dining room table with a blank piece of paper. In the middle of the paper I write a word. One that calls to me in the moment. Examples include Peace, Beauty, Loneliness or Heartbreak. I draw a circle or box around the word, and I start to create patterns. The patterns flow easily out of me and onto the paper as I concentrate on the word in the center. The goal again is to quiet the stories I am telling myself and find a calmness to replace the restlessness. I open my heart to HP’s message for me. If I can’t seem to find the flow, I surrender to the process and release each self-judgment as it appears. Like any new skill, it took some practice to let go of my expectations and be present during the doodle meditation.
 
The point is that however we choose to quiet our minds and open our heart to a power greater than ourselves, the only way we can do it wrong is to not do it at all.
 
Alice W. – Region One

My OA friend said, “I have an assignment from my sponsor.  Can you tell me about your Second Step experience?”  I didn’t have an immediate answer.
 
Later that week I was reading a wonderful story in the Big Book (Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th edition) titled “A Drunk, Like You.” On page 405 a spiritual awakening was discussed.  Aah!  My friend had been asking about my spiritual awakening!  In the story, the writer was disappointed that he hadn’t had a “more dramatic” spiritual awakening.
 
I was transported back to 1976, when I first entered the rooms of the 12 Steps at the tender age of 26. I had accompanied a friend who didn’t want to go alone.  I had been very depressed, but didn’t know that I was about to find the answer I needed. Walking into that room is something I’ll never forget.  It felt like walking into sunshine (and it was winter in Fairbanks, Alaska). I felt loved and accepted. And I kept coming back. That was my first spiritual awakening!
 
Jumping ahead to 1987. I was no longer a member of that first fellowship.  I was desperate to lose weight. I saw an ad for Overeaters Anonymous in the paper and wondered if it could be a Big Book fellowship. Their meeting was held fifteen minutes after I got off work and only three doors away, so I brought my Big Book and found that they were starting a Big Book study that night!  It was a renewal of my spiritual awakening.  Here was where I belonged!
 
Fast forward to 2009. We had moved and moved again. I had wandered away again. I had tried other methods of weight control.  Nothing worked. I got the bright idea of going to an Oregon OA retreat to get back on the wagon, but thought that afterward I wouldn’t have to attend meetings afterward—that I’d be able to do it by myself. But I discovered at the retreat that I love meetings!

Later that year we had to move again, back to my home town of Ketchikan to care for my mother.  I found an ad for OA in the paper, but when I went to the meeting no one else showed up.  I called the paper and was told the meeting wasn’t happening and they didn’t know how the ad had gotten back in the paper.  The time and place for a meeting were provided for me, and there were many weeks of just myself attending, but slowly a fellowship has grown around me.

I pray I have learned the lesson for good that this is where I belong and where I can stay spiritually awake, growing in recovery!
 
Lesley – Region One
 

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In the back of the Big Book (Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th edition) on page 563 is “The Long Form” of the Twelve Traditions.  This is how the Traditions first appeared in 1946.

The long form of the Twelfth Tradition starts on page 565:

“12.—And finally, we of Alcoholics Anonymous believe that the principle of anonymity has an immense spiritual significance.  It reminds us that we are to place principles before personalities; that we are actually to practice a genuine humility.  This to the end that our great blessings may never spoil us; that we shall forever live in thankful contemplation of Him who presides over us all.”

I really love this reading; it helps me remember that there is something bigger than me. Bigger than the conflict between me and that other person who wants us to do it her way instead of my way—the right way.  It makes me want to act like a saner and more giving person. 

Often in OA we get stuck on the idea that anonymity is about not using our names with public media.  That is one of the meanings of anonymity, but it is not the only meaning.

One of the synonyms of anonymity is “namelessness.”  That is why we do not put the names of speakers on OA event flyers or schedules.  The emphasis is on the topic rather than the person.  We do not put names of authors on OA literature either.  We say, “my sponsor told me….” rather than “Jean told me…”  When I say my sponsor says to read xxx; I might as well say the OA program says to read xxx.  That way I honor the process and the program, not one specific person.

I love doing service at a “high” level, but I try to stay humble about it because I have seen people get very wrapped up in being the person in charge or who is at the top.  In OA we only hold positions a short time and then we rotate on to other positions and allow someone else to fill the “top spot.”  Sometimes I have seen people gain weight after being in a top-level position.  I know that I have certain strengths, but I also have weaknesses and so do other people. I do not want to lose my abstinence after being in a high position.  I know that my recovery is worth far more to me than any OA service position. This “Long Form of the Twelfth Tradition” helps me stay right-sized.

Margie G. – Region One
  
 
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