In 1942, Reinhold Niebuhr, a professor at Union Seminary wrote a prayer long taking the recovery world by storm. Its short version states simply, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
For those who have descended into the depths of alcoholism and drug addiction, powerlessness over one’s self destruction becomes an overwhelming despairing reality. Paradoxically, embracing one’s powerlessness is the first step up and out of the abyss of alcoholism and addiction. The beloved Catholic priest, Henri Nouwen, often wrote on the subject of powerlessness. In his elegant words, he showed us how we could embrace the lemons of powerlessness and turn them into lemonade. Niebuhr suggests there is divine help for our overwhelming problems; if we seek wisdom foremost.
Bill Wilson and Bob Smith connected the dots in 1935, soon discovering a community of mutual accountability grounded in powerlessness could be transformative. By owning their powerlessness over alcohol and coming to a conscious contact with a Power greater than themselves, they found what has proven to be the most effective pathway to the Source of liberation from alcoholism and addictions of a hundred kinds. By giving testimony of their own spiritual liberation from alcoholism to other still-suffering alcoholics, a community of accountability and service arose among less than half a dozen men shuttling between New York and Ohio. The transformation in these men was so complete and sustainable as to give rise to a larger community of recovered alcoholics now numbering in the millions, spanning eight decades and nearly two hundred nations.
Being on board ship in 75 MPH hurricane strength winds for two days reminds me of just how insignificant I really am. Bobbing as a cork on steel-gray mounds of undulating foam under dull leaden skies might be a bit demoralizing if one has expectations of life unfolding perfectly. One doesn’t usually spend thousands of dollars to ride eight hundred miles out into the stormy North Atlantic and be tossed about in a maelstrom. Sometimes the Caribbean’s cerulean skies and fair temperatures just don’t happen. It’s always winter somewhere on earth and I happened into it early.
Serenity is a precious state of mind and soul deriving from accepting those things I cannot change. I can’t change the climate or calm the seas but I can be thankful I have a warm bed to sleep in and all the grand dining I could ever wish for. I can accept that winter sometimes shows up early in the North Atlantic, reminding me of the Greater Cycles maintaining order in our world.
As a photographer wanting to photograph a distant destination new to me, dense cloud and steady rain has me stopped in my tracks. It is what it is. Being powerless over weather allows me to release my expectations. No one’s expecting me to get off the ship and ruin my cameras in cold rain. I’m only expected to accept life on life’s terms. Today I’m granted a warm dry place inside to write, read, and do my work.
Niebuhr suggests there are things we can change. Perhaps the most compelling candidate for change is my attitude. Do I whine because it’s raining and I want to be on shore filling up flash cards with images of paradise or do I give thanks for being able to have a rich experience despite what’s happening outside the glass? There could be many worse things than living on a beautiful ship with its fine dining, new friends, expansive music and entertainment options, even a first rate fitness facility.
It took but miniscule courage to change one small thing within my grasp – the hour at which I was willing to get out of my warm bed. I was well rewarded. As it turns out, each morning for about an hour at first light there’s been a break in the dense cloud, allowing me to photograph the front edge of day in its magenta, crimson, and cobalt glory. While thousands of others were inside sleeping, I was on deck by myself, collecting the unfolding panorama before me. For three days I’ve seen the heavens parted at first light, granting me a holographic view of paradise. Being willing to face into cold blustery winds created an indelible imprint of Heaven on my life.
Niebuhr suggests in his prayer we fare much better by asking for serenity to accept those things proving immutable and for courage to give our energies to changing those things malleable in our lives. Wisdom proves to be a lubricant for good living. Wisdom enables us to invest our limited power to change the small things we can and trust a Power greater than ourselves to change the big things beyond our capacity. Solomon, long considered the richest and wisest man in history asked God for only one thing, wisdom. We could do so well.
For those in recovery from alcoholism and addiction, tiny decisions can have huge consequences. Getting out of bed early to take photos won’t materially alter the future of my life but for those struggling to gain freedom from the prisons of alcoholism and addiction the tiny decision to take a drink or drug when faced with life’s moments of winter can set off a cascade of life-destroying consequences.
Serenity, the ability to accept things as they are, even if they be dense cold cloud and rain on a stormy sea, frees us from those emotional maelstroms so often sending us to seek refuge in altered chemical states of mind.
Blessings,
Craig C. Johnson
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Looking on the Bright Side Manhattan, New York 9-19-12
The flight to New York proved very short and surprisingly smooth. The pilot had warned us before takeoff of some rough air which never materialized. I was able to get some rather expansive sunrise cloud shots out a surprisingly clean window while having rather pleasing conversation with a third year medical student from Manhattan. We enjoyed the only empty seat in the plane between us. My seatmate had a boy friend picking her up and we ended up with a ride into Manhattan which instantly made the trip far less complicated and pleasing at the front end. Conversation with Janine, encouraging her to not lose her gentleness and compassion in her medical training was profoundly satisfying. The twelve-step program of recovery does well in informing one’s life in such a way as to enable giving experience strength, and hope. It really does make for a good social skill I was lacking in for too long.
I find New York surprisingly calm and ordered. After being exposed to the organic nature of places like London during the Queen’s Jubilee and Olympics, Manhattan feels almost sedate. David, my travel mate, found it overwhelming and wanted nothing to do with it. It’s interesting how the same environment creates such difference reactions in people. I can’t but wonder if I would do as poorly in a remote rural locale as David would in an intense urban one. It’s impossible to get lost in Manhattan, as it’s laid out on a perfect grid. I find vast cities rather interesting places. I wonder why I so often dream of getting lost in them, something I have not done in my waking hours.
We found ourselves at the Charlotte airport early, no one was waiting in security, our plane arrived early at JFK, and we were at the Port Authority dock two hours early by virtue of Janine’s generosity. There’s been no frantic sensibility whatever to our journey. One of the dock stewards took to us and we were admitted onto the ship earlier than many of the others. We were settled and eating at poolside by 1:30 PM. The passenger contingent seems older, almost blue collar, no kids. My preliminary brief encounters with passengers suggest this will be a pleasant group without a lot of pretense – basic wholesome good people having their one-time journey of a lifetime.
The weather and water are another story altogether. Fierce gale-strength winds blowing under angry spitting skies have stirred up a maelstrom. While still moored at the dock I estimated the winds at 50 knots steady and gusting higher, perhaps 70. I could not even hold a camera up most of the time. Manhattan was shrouded in cloud, no aureate sunset views of the skyline were in the offing tonight. I did get a few images, some of which will be useful for travelogues but nothing more; no contest winners here. For today, I will have to be content with transcendent cloud images I got from the plane. I’m still wondering how we had such a smooth descent into JFK with such intense wind prevailing at ground level.
The water proceeded to get much rougher in the evening as we moved out onto open sea; many people are hunkered down, too bad for those on their first day of their dream holiday. The ocean is rougher than what I experienced during the rare November category four hurricane of 1999. I ate a grand meal of coconut Thai chicken with several fine courses and then wobbled off to bed. Somewhere in my distant past I acquired the idea a very full stomach would provide relief to motion sickness. Apparently, this is true.
I fell asleep instantly for about eight hours, never even getting into bed. This was a good thing as I heard the water was hellatious from 11-2 during the night. I’m amazed I slept through it. Ignorance is sweet bliss in this case. Perhaps the work of recovery has allowed me to trust Someone else is really in charge, and it’s not me. Passengers reported having a long miserable night. The captain says we’ve had 60 mph winds directly off the beam the whole run thus far; gusting to 75. He reminded us this is the worst aspect from which to take wind.
I think of the story of Jesus sleeping in a boat while on a journey across the Sea of Galilee, a body of water notorious for getting stirred up in no time. His disciples became frantic with fear, convinced capsizing was imminent. Waking Jesus, they demanded he do something about their impending doom. He told the winds to be still; they obeyed. The disciples settled down, allowing their nascent faith to dissipate their overwhelming fear.
For those having learned to trust God with the affairs of their lives, fear is kept at bay, even when the winds do not calm down. Equanimity is the ability to be at peace, even when caught in the maelstroms of life. Serenity is the ground from which acceptance of life on life’s terms comes to us.
I have no assurance what the waters of life will look like tomorrow. They may again be steel-gray mounds of undulating foam with wind shrieking in the superstructures. They may be serene aquamarine mirrors with balmy breezes. No matter. In either case there is One who is in charge despite appearance to the contrary.
Before the foundations of time the days of my life were ordered, the hairs of my head numbered. It matters not what is before me. As Jesus trusted His father, may I do likewise. Perhaps I can then, as Jesus did, sleep through the storm at peace. For one once tortured for years by unceasing panic, anxiety, and fears of a hundred kinds, for one once unable to get on airplanes, unable to go in parts of my own house, this is a big deal of the highest order for me, especially out here on stormy seas.
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, of things yet unseen.
Blessings,
Craig C. Johnson
The Mid Night Blues Charlotte, North Carolina 9-18-12
The day started out as one of those typical of days starting too early; a bit gray and with some risk of stinking thinking. I’m free associating here in the middle of the night. I’m sitting here in the airport at Charlotte with about an hour and a half yet to wait for boarding so am using the time to write. Laptop computers certainly do make it easier to redeem time otherwise spent doing nothing useful in the middle of the night in airports. My head always goes through a strange discontinuity right before long journeys, especially while sitting in airports.
There’s a strange ambivalence in my mind. With my present recovery work I’ve gotten so attached to people on a daily basis that it’s hard to leave them. Yesterday I had a rather pleasant sense of farewell with one of my mid-day groups. In the past year or two I’ve enjoyed a sense of farewell from these groups I never got from a church, service club, or other organization. I only wish the larger culture could enjoy the sense of community those working programs of recovery bask in. People in recovery understand their need for community context to stay clean and sober. There would be a lot less loneliness, depression, and abject isolation so widespread in Western cultures if people found the joy and liberation coming from community rather than the self-sufficient “I-can-do-this-by-myself mentality” we have here in the US. I recall while in Norway in May the pleasant sense of anticipation of being with these dear people once again. Throughout much of my life I’ve never been in any hurry to return to the US after a long overseas journey. The past two years I’ve found myself happily returning home to a lot of welcome.
I’m barely leaving and I am already anticipating what I will be doing upon my return. I have a single mother who destroyed her life with methamphetamine. She’s starting to get a small bit of traction in her recovery and will get custody of her two children in late October. I have some furniture for her to re-constitute a household when I get back. I recall how bleak it was in my own childhood to be rootless and hauled around so much by an alcoholic addicted single mother. Having my own chest of drawers was a big deal. Others of us are putting together the rest of this young mother’s furnishings. Community does make a great difference to the fragile and marginalized.
More happily, I will begin teaching a foreign policy class at the local university when I return. I think I start on October 5. Curiously, having the context of meaningful responsibilities upon my return gives my present journey more meaning. The temporary disconnect from phones, e-mail, and daily deadlines is most splendid.
A splendid aspect of this journey is the torrid heat of southern summer will have passed by the time I return. We will then be entering into the best climate of the year. The magic of fall colors will be upon us, and there will be those pleasant anticipations of happy holiday events coming at this time of the year.
For the whole of my life I’ve had these strange dreams in which I’m in new cities and unable to find my way back to my lodgings. Sometimes this is a hotel, a dormitory on a campus, or a house. These dreams can often be profoundly unsettling. Upcoming travel makes these much more common. About a month ago I had about six of these in a row right after I booked two months in Australia. They were so intense as to actually be nightmares, waking me with pounding heart and anxiety. Last night I dreamed I had returned to a city I lived in for twelve years. I returned to find the city destroyed and decayed into a horrendous ghetto with all the buildings destroyed and the streets impassable because of the ruins of consumer life – old cars, appliances, furniture. These dreams may represent some sort of re-processing of those times in childhood when I was so fearful of never getting home again.
Hopefully sunset tonight will be from the deck of a ship and afford some fine skyline photos of New York’s Manhattan. I should be offshore from Portland Maine sometime tomorrow; then on to Halifax, Sydney, Cornerbrook, Quebec City, and Montreal. Hopefully fall colors will be well underway in a couple of weeks. I do find my head always gets into a much better place when I am taking images of the wonders of the world and giving them away. There’s just this discontinuity I always get at the beginning of a journey. I should be absolutely fine once arrived, awake, and not paranoid about missing connections. Some days these ‘cities’ dreams I’ve often had will make sense to me. I think in about an hour and half when I am on top of dense gray cloud at sunrise, life will instantly look much better. Happily, the gray zone at night in airports is short lived.
Sometimes the best way to appreciate home is to leave it, but not for too long. And don’t spend too much idle time in airports in the middle of the night!
I’m off!
Blessings,
Craig C. Johnson
There’s a strange ambivalence in my mind. With my present recovery work I’ve gotten so attached to people on a daily basis that it’s hard to leave them. Yesterday I had a rather pleasant sense of farewell with one of my mid-day groups. In the past year or two I’ve enjoyed a sense of farewell from these groups I never got from a church, service club, or other organization. I only wish the larger culture could enjoy the sense of community those working programs of recovery bask in. People in recovery understand their need for community context to stay clean and sober. There would be a lot less loneliness, depression, and abject isolation so widespread in Western cultures if people found the joy and liberation coming from community rather than the self-sufficient “I-can-do-this-by-myself mentality” we have here in the US. I recall while in Norway in May the pleasant sense of anticipation of being with these dear people once again. Throughout much of my life I’ve never been in any hurry to return to the US after a long overseas journey. The past two years I’ve found myself happily returning home to a lot of welcome.
I’m barely leaving and I am already anticipating what I will be doing upon my return. I have a single mother who destroyed her life with methamphetamine. She’s starting to get a small bit of traction in her recovery and will get custody of her two children in late October. I have some furniture for her to re-constitute a household when I get back. I recall how bleak it was in my own childhood to be rootless and hauled around so much by an alcoholic addicted single mother. Having my own chest of drawers was a big deal. Others of us are putting together the rest of this young mother’s furnishings. Community does make a great difference to the fragile and marginalized.
More happily, I will begin teaching a foreign policy class at the local university when I return. I think I start on October 5. Curiously, having the context of meaningful responsibilities upon my return gives my present journey more meaning. The temporary disconnect from phones, e-mail, and daily deadlines is most splendid.
A splendid aspect of this journey is the torrid heat of southern summer will have passed by the time I return. We will then be entering into the best climate of the year. The magic of fall colors will be upon us, and there will be those pleasant anticipations of happy holiday events coming at this time of the year.
For the whole of my life I’ve had these strange dreams in which I’m in new cities and unable to find my way back to my lodgings. Sometimes this is a hotel, a dormitory on a campus, or a house. These dreams can often be profoundly unsettling. Upcoming travel makes these much more common. About a month ago I had about six of these in a row right after I booked two months in Australia. They were so intense as to actually be nightmares, waking me with pounding heart and anxiety. Last night I dreamed I had returned to a city I lived in for twelve years. I returned to find the city destroyed and decayed into a horrendous ghetto with all the buildings destroyed and the streets impassable because of the ruins of consumer life – old cars, appliances, furniture. These dreams may represent some sort of re-processing of those times in childhood when I was so fearful of never getting home again.
Hopefully sunset tonight will be from the deck of a ship and afford some fine skyline photos of New York’s Manhattan. I should be offshore from Portland Maine sometime tomorrow; then on to Halifax, Sydney, Cornerbrook, Quebec City, and Montreal. Hopefully fall colors will be well underway in a couple of weeks. I do find my head always gets into a much better place when I am taking images of the wonders of the world and giving them away. There’s just this discontinuity I always get at the beginning of a journey. I should be absolutely fine once arrived, awake, and not paranoid about missing connections. Some days these ‘cities’ dreams I’ve often had will make sense to me. I think in about an hour and half when I am on top of dense gray cloud at sunrise, life will instantly look much better. Happily, the gray zone at night in airports is short lived.
Sometimes the best way to appreciate home is to leave it, but not for too long. And don’t spend too much idle time in airports in the middle of the night!
I’m off!
Blessings,
Craig C. Johnson
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