Could Be Good, Could Be Bad
I'm grateful for recording my highest elevation gains in the past week. I'm grateful I got to run early enough so that I mostly missed the scorching heat. I'm grateful for my morning routines setting me up well for the rest of the day as long as I do them with care and conviction. I'm grateful for a rare afternoon coffee to pick me up as I started dragging. I'm grateful reading a physical book takes me away from logging unhealthy screen time. I'm grateful for staying up late to finish my book, which ended in an exciting, bittersweet way. I'm grateful for my intimate NYC Zoom meeting that still congregates on a weekly basis. I'm grateful for talking in-depth about how this a Program of attraction, not promotion. I'm grateful for learning from all the sober people in my life - those who've gone through AA and those who've found solutions through other means. I'm grateful for the reminder that I can't control other people's actions, only my own reactions. I'm grateful for an extra long evening walk with Harper where I didn't have anything blasting in my ears and simply listened to the world around me while also quietly reflecting on various matters impacting my life. I'm grateful I can be in my own head nowadays and, for the most part, find it a hospitable and informative space. I'm grateful Harper's prance brings such joy to so many passersby.
A few days back I was reminded of a beautiful Taoist parable that resonates even more deeply now that I'm in recovery. The plot is the following:
A poor farmer who lived in a poor village was considered rich and fortunate because he owned a horse. However one day the horse ran away. His neighbors came to his doorstep to share their condolences for what had occurred, but the farmer simply replied, "I don't know. It could be good, it could be bad".
A little while later the horse returned with a bunch of other horse friends. The neighbors were amazed and this time enthusiastically congratulated the farmer, who replied, "I don't know. It could be good, it could be bad".
One day the farmer's son was riding their horse and he broke his leg. Once again the neighbors gathered to express their sympathies, with the farmer replying, "I don't know. It could be good, it could be bad".
Not long after a war broke out in the Province and many young men were recruited into the Army. The farmer's son was spared because of his injurious state. The neighbors proclaimed what great luck for the son, but the farmer simply replied, "I don't know. It could be good, it could be bad".
I love the story's message of not dealing in absolutes. Rarely is a person, place, or thing entirely good or bad. It can be shades of both and everything in between that I, as a mere human, can never pretend to know about entirely. What the farmer helps me realize is that humbly accepting every outcome is the only path if I want to experience sustained peace. Sure, I'll always have opinions, prejudices, preferences - yet when I let my will run riot at every single turn, my need for control dictate my behaviors, then I'll inevitably be let down a great deal, which in turn will jeopardize my serenity.
The farmer's tale actually ties neatly into the ending of one of my favorite personal stories in the back of the Big Book. Titled "Acceptance Was The Answer" the fellow concludes his story on page 420 by saying:
"Perhaps the best thing of all for me is to remember that my serenity is inversely proportional to my expectations. The higher my expectations of Max and other people are, the lower is my serenity. I can watch my serenity level rise when I discard my expectations. But then my “rights” try to move in, and they too can force my serenity level down. I have to discard my “rights,” as well as my expectations, by asking myself, How important is it, really? How important is it compared to my serenity, my emotional sobriety? And when I place more value on my serenity and sobriety than on anything else, I can maintain them at a higher level—at least for the time being.
Acceptance is the key to my relationship with God today. I never just sit and do nothing while waiting for Him to tell me what to do. Rather, I do whatever is in front of me to be done, and I leave the results up to Him; however it turns out, that’s God’s will for me.
I must keep my magic magnifying mind on my acceptance and off my expectations, for my serenity is directly proportional to my level of acceptance. When I remember this, I can see I’ve never had it so good. Thank God for A.A.!"
I like these paragraphs for multiple reasons. One, it tells me to stay clear of the outcomes business, focus on doing the next tiny right action, and leave the rest to my Higher Power. Two, the strong correlation between serenity and acceptance is so clear to me in sobriety. The same also goes for the their inverse relationship with expectations. Three, the fellow learns to let go by asking themselves, "How important is it, really?". I regularly ask myself the very same thing and more often than not the honest answer is it's never that important. Like the farmer, the fellow is underscoring for me the freedom I can feel when staying even-keeled. Life will always be life-y, but I now have a choice, thanks to sobriety, around meeting external events with equanimity. Vodka no longer diminishes my brain functions. Instead a head full of AA allows me to actively protect my serenity for longer periods. Whatever happens I’ll attempt to refrain from being the ultimate arbiter of whether it is wholly good or bad. It simply is.
