Howdy all -
It's kind of cool today, so soap bubbles are out. Sidewalk chalk is too pastel for what I see, so today I'll scrape another canvas (sorry, Elvis) and use some more vibrant colors. An interesting montage I see today, what appears to be a family around the christmas tree, pile high wil open packages and discarded wrappings. But I sense a problem with the picture. All the faces wear smiles, but they seen stiff, off kilter. Like they are there more out of politness then real happiness at the plethora of gifts the have piled in front of them or joy over being able to share with each other.
Thats what I used to be like. A fake smile pasted over the contempt or boredom I really felt at these occasions. What I really wanted to be was anywhere else. With MY stuff. Not watching them enjoy theirs.
This was a familiar problem for me. This idea of not being happy with what I have was more a rule than the exception. Whether it be not right kind. Too big, too small, neighbor has something better. D*mn lawnmower wars. Enough attention or too much attention. Not enough love or too much. Lots of stuff, but never enough or the wrong kind.
Not enough? Too much? Happy medium? Yeah, right. Ungrateful brat!
Along comes sobriety, 12 steps and a real cold splash of reality ice water in the face. This picture sends two messages to me.
The first is that the "stuff" I have does not define me - that comes from within. Detaching myself from the desire to have the best, most or biggest sure does simplify my life.
The second is that when I form expectations about people, places, things and events - I can really be setting myself up for a fall. So it's very important for me to remember that my own assumptions and expectations can sabotage my serenity and peace of mind just as well as an audit notice from the Infernal Revenue Service can make me feel apprehensive for a second or two.
Does this mean that I lower my standards or expectations? No, I don't think so. What I must do is temper them with the realization that this is life on life's terms, not mine. His will, not mine. That people will be people, with all the myriad variations involved. And that no man is an island. All good things for this drunk to remember...
Enjoy the gifts, my friends,
Dennis
