Observations on Change

Have you ever said to yourself, "Just when I thought I knew the game, the game changed, and I have to start all over again?" In truth, the game may not have changed—what changed was the referee, now interpreting the rules differently.

That’s the problem with change: it’s rarely consistent or predictable. As Lillian Hellman wisely observed, “People change and forget to tell each other.”

So when I read the April 30 entry in Each Day a New Beginning, I was struck by its quiet truth:

“Experience can’t prepare us for the ramifications of a new change. But our trust in friends, and our faith in the spiritual process of life, can and will see us through whatever comes.”

That’s a solution that works—especially in recovery.

First, "trust in friends" is exactly what happens in AA, especially in working with a sponsor. We no longer have to struggle alone in the face of change. We have the fellowship of the program—people who walk beside us and hold us up when the ground shifts beneath us.

Second, "faith in the spiritual process of life" reminds us that a loving Higher Power is present. This creates an atmosphere of love and acceptance—something strong enough to carry us through any storm.

As John Donne wrote: “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” 

That interdependence is vital to human survival—especially in times of transition.

In recovery, I’ve discovered the deep truth of these words from Alcoholics Anonymous (p. 17):

“We are people who normally would not mix. But there exists among us a fellowship, a friendliness, and an understanding which is indescribably wonderful.”

It’s in that “indescribable” understanding that we find the courage to grow and the safety to heal.

Spiritually, I rely on the promises of scripture. Isaiah 41:10 tells us:

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee… I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”

And in Matthew 11:28, Jesus invites us directly: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

For me, Alma 38:5 sets the bar when it comes to trusting God in the midst of uncertainty: 

“And now my son, Shiblon, I would that ye should remember, that as much as ye shall put your trust in God even so much ye shall be delivered out of your trials, and your troubles, and your afflictions, and ye shall be lifted up at the last day.”

Conclusion:  Even when change feels impossible and ominously frightening, we can find beauty in knowing we are not alone. We have friends to walk with us, and a loving God who offers clarity, strength, and rest. Trust in that, and you’ll find the courage to face whatever comes next.

"In the Midst of Abundance: Letting Go to Live Free"

 

In searching for a topic today, I came across five quotes from Buddha, one of which stood out more than the others:  

“To live a pure unselfish life, one must count nothing as one’s own in the midst of abundance.” — Buddha

This quote lingered with me, especially as I thought about something I’ve noticed many times in cemeteries—large monuments, family tombs, or elaborate headstones. Much like the pyramids of Egypt, they stand as grand, lasting evidence of someone’s status, wealth, or legacy.

I’m not trying to judge the individuals or families behind these structures—each story is unique—but I do sometimes wonder: Do these monuments guarantee anything on the other side of the veil?

This question brings to mind the story of the Rich Young Ruler in Mark 10:17–22. He sincerely wanted to follow Jesus Christ but was troubled when the Lord told him:

“Go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor… and come, take up the cross, and follow me.”
—Mark 10:21 (KJV)

The young man walked away sorrowful—because he had great wealth.

In recovery, we learn that clinging to selfish desires is the real chain. As the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous puts it:

“Selfishness—self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles.” — AA, p. 62

And yet we are reminded that recovery is not a bleak life of loss, but one of abundance in a different sense:

“We are sure God wants us to be happy, joyous, and free… we try to live life on God’s terms, not ours.” — AA, p. 133

I’ve learned in recovery—and in faith—that surrendering ownership and attachment to the things of this world is well worth the price for the freedom, peace, and clarity it brings.

Chuck Palahniuk, in modern terms, says: “The things you own end up owning you.” 

And Socrates wisely adds: “He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have.”

Scripture reinforces this in unmistakable terms:

“Sell that ye have, and give alms… a treasure in the heavens that faileth not.” — Luke 12:33

“For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.” — 1 Timothy 6:7

From my own Latter-day Saint faith, the Doctrine and Covenants reminds us:

“It must needs be done in mine own way… that the poor shall be exalted, in that the rich are made low.” — D&C 104:16

And Elder Neal A. Maxwell put it plainly:

“What do we own? Nothing, really. What stewardship has the Lord given us? Everything.”

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Conclusion:

So what is the legacy that matters?

I believe it’s not what we build out of stone, but what we give away in love. Not what we hold in vaults, but what we pour out in service. The pure, unselfish life Buddha describes—and Christ commands—is one where our treasure is not in what we keep, but in what we release.

In the end, the legacy that speaks most loudly is the one that needs no monument—just good deeds, sincere kindness, and a life lived for others.

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Attached Buddha Quotes:

• "There is no fear for one whose mind is not filled with desires."

• "To live a pure unselfish life, one must count nothing as one’s own in the midst of abundance."

• "If anything is worth doing, do it with all your heart."

• "All that we are is the result of what we have thought."

• "Do not look for a sanctuary in anyone except your self."

The Door That Opened My Future

There are moments in life when a door opens — not just physically, but spiritually — and lets the future in. Graham Greene said it best: 

  

“There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.” 

  

For me, that moment came at the age of eight. 

  

I found myself frustrated with a Sunday School lesson centered on cutting out paper figures. My heart longed for something deeper — a true knowledge of God and Jesus Christ. Trusting that yearning, I left that class and began attending my grandmother’s church, where the Bible was studied earnestly and spiritually interpreted. 

  

Little did I know, this simple decision would shape my life for decades to come. 

  

The faith I cultivated there became the Higher Power I would lean on during my journey through Alcoholics Anonymous. Later, it provided the spiritual foundation for my conversion to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and my ongoing missionary service. 

  

Looking back, I see clearly how the principles of growth and change are at the center of it all. As the Daily Reflections of AA reminds us: 

  

“The essence of all growth is a willingness to change for the better and then an unremitting willingness to shoulder whatever responsibility this entails.” 

  

Jesus taught: 

  

“Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” 

— Matthew 18:3 (KJV) 

  

And the Book of Mormon echoes: 

  

“For the natural man is an enemy to God… unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord.” 

— Mosiah 3:19 

  

In recovery and in faith, becoming “as a little child” — willing to be taught, willing to trust, willing to change — has been the key to my life’s direction. 

  

Carl Jung observed: 

  

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” 

  

Today, I understand: 

  

At eight years old, I walked through a different church door — but in doing so, I stepped into the beginning of my spiritual future. That small act of agency shaped my Higher Power, my sobriety, and my service. 

Determinism and Agency in Recovery

Today, I came across a quote by Daniel Webster that struck a chord deep within me:

“The most important thought that ever occupied my mind is that of my individual responsibility to God.” — Daniel Webster

At first glance, this statement might seem simple, even old-fashioned. But sit with it for a moment, and you begin to see its weight. It’s not just about faith. It’s about agency—and how we reconcile that with the idea of a universe where some believe everything is already written.

In the world of recovery, this idea feels especially relevant. Every day, we’re called to make decisions—often small, sometimes monumental—that can move us either toward healing or back into destruction. In those moments, our choices seem to define us. And yet, we also acknowledge a spiritual dimension—one where surrender, not control, is the key to progress.

Webster’s words highlight a deep tension: if we are truly responsible to a higher power, then we must also have the freedom to act—or not act—in alignment with that responsibility. This brings us straight into the philosophical crossroads between predeterminism and free will.

On one hand, determinism suggests that everything—our thoughts, our behaviors, even our relapses—might be outcomes of prior causes: our upbringing, our trauma, our brain chemistry. It tells us our path might already be shaped by forces beyond our control.

But then there’s agency—the belief that within that framework, we still choose. And maybe that’s the key: the dance between predestination and free will isn’t about proving one true and the other false. It’s about understanding that both exist in tandem —and that responsibility lives right in the middle.

In recovery, this duality plays out every day. We accept the past as it is. We acknowledge that some things may have shaped us. But we also claim our power—the ability to take action, to make amends, to stay sober today, no matter what yesterday held.

Webster’s quote doesn’t just belong in a history book—it’s a spiritual call to action. It reminds us that our choices carry weight not just in our lives, but in a broader, even sacred, context. Our responsibility isn’t isolated. It’s part of something bigger.

And maybe that’s the beauty of recovery. It doesn’t ask us to choose between freedom and fate. It asks us to accept both—and live responsibly anyway.

So, whether you believe in destiny or divine will, your actions still matter. Your willingness to show up, to be honest, to do the next right thing—that’s where your agency lives. That’s where growth happens. And that’s how we bring healing not just to ourselves, but to the world around us.

What does “responsibility to God” mean to you in your journey? Do you find peace in the balance between surrender and choice?

 

Dogmatism and the Path to True Recovery

 

There are times in my AA life when I think I cannot listen to one more share about personal struggles and evils. I almost want to shout, "Get over yourself!"
But it’s exactly in these moments that I have to remind myself: recovery has many stages.
There are layers upon layers that must be removed by working the Twelve Steps.

Love and tolerance don’t happen all at once — they grow, systematically, as we wash the rocks of our lives one at a time.

So, what does all this have to do with dogmatism and recovery?

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The Trap of Dogmatism

Dogmatism, according to Merriam-Webster, is "the expression of an opinion or belief as if it were a fact: positiveness in assertion of opinion especially when unwarranted or arrogant. A viewpoint or system of ideas based on insufficiently examined premises."

When I dogmatically believe that someone else's share has no value to me, I am shutting off the very channel that might carry the message I need — whether it’s a warning about my Natural Man or an invitation to a higher spiritual path.
I risk losing a message that might one day save my sobriety, my recovery, or even my life.

By closing my heart through judgment, I lose the chance to personalize the truth.

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In recovery, when we apply the lessons from another’s experience, we aren't becoming them — we are growing from their wisdom.

We are shaping our own path by making informed decisions rooted in understanding.  Listening does not mean losing ourselves. It means choosing, learning, and changing.

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The Dangers of Intolerance in Recovery

Dogmatism — when we become stubborn, intolerant, and judgmental — we pull away from the spirit of recovery.
It ignores AA’s Twelfth Tradition:

"Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our Traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities."

Parochialism, intolerance, illiberalism, small-mindedness, and reactionary provincialism have no place in an AA meeting — or in a healthy, growing life.

We are not here to divide or dismiss. We are here to heal, to connect, and to become better.  In recovery, dogmatism and intolerance can close us off from healing and growth. True recovery comes from listening, learning, and letting go of judgment.

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Fundamental Thoughts to Anchor Us

• "Judge not, that ye be not judged." — Matthew 7:1

• "The unexamined life is not worth living." — Socrates

• "It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." — Aristotle

• "Men are free according to the flesh; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man." — 2 Nephi 2:27

• "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just... think on these things." — Philippians 4:8

• "The restoration is a process, not an event." — Russell M. Nelson

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Today’s Reflection:
Let's listen.
Let's think.
Let's grow.
Let's never let the narrowness of dogmatism rob us of the breadth and beauty of recovery.

Leave God’s Work to God

Dear Reader, I’ve been struggling with the desire to repair a relationship with my son. Despite efforts, nothing seems to be changing. My words and texts are not acknowledged.  My gestures aren’t met with gestures. I feel like I’m reaching into silence.

And so I’m brought back to a humbling truth—one echoed in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous:

"Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show... What usually happens? The show doesn't come off very well... We had to quit playing God. It didn’t work. Next, we decided that hereafter in this drama of life, God was going to be our Director."
—Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 60–61

This is not just good advice. It’s a spiritual call to surrender—to let go of my illusion of control and trust in a divine solution greater than my own.

I’m also reminded of Lao Tzu’s quiet wisdom:

"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished."

And Oscar Wilde’s sharp truth:

"When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers."

Sometimes the things we want most urgently are not the things that will bring healing. Sometimes our timing is not God’s timing.

The recovery reading from Walk in Dry Places speaks deeply to this:

"We can’t fix anybody, nor can we fix any problem with a destructive, mood-altering drug. What we’re really seeking… what every compulsive person really seeks… is to fix the conflicting needs that tear us apart at the seams."
—April 25

When I try to fix things—especially people—I often only deepen the tension. But when I step back, breathe, and leave the spiritual work to the Spirit, the real good begins to happen.

The words of scripture offer anchors of truth:

"Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things... believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend."
—Mosiah 4:9, Book of Mormon

Letting go of the need to control or even fully understand what’s happening around me is the essence of leaving God’s work to God.

"Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing... If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not..."
—James 1:4–7, KJV

"The more we become willing to depend upon a Higher Power, the more independent we actually are."
—Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, Step Three

It may seem like surrender is weakness. But it’s not. It’s strength. It’s trust. It’s freedom. Because real peace comes when I let God be God.

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Conclusion: Letting Go Is Trusting Forward

There are things I cannot do, hearts I cannot change, and outcomes I cannot predict. But I can pray. I can show up in love. And I can trust that the same God who parted seas and calmed storms still works miracles in hearts—including mine and my son’s.

So today, I choose to leave God’s work to God—and walk respectfully in the part that is mine.

🕊️

Be Still and Know

 

“Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.”
— Psalm 46:10 (KJV)

Today I was reminded of this scripture when a friend shared a quote from Melody Beattie that struck a deep chord:

“From that place of stillness, the right action will emerge, and you will find your next step. From that place of stillness, you can move into the present moment. There you will find your power, and there you will find God.”

Both of these quotes—one from the Psalms and one from recovery literature—speak to the same truth: stillness is a gateway to connection, clarity, and healing.

In Psalm 46, the words "Be still" come in the middle of chaos: mountains quake, waters roar, and nations are in turmoil. And in the eye of that storm, God speaks—not with thunder, but with calm:
"Be still..."
It’s not just a gentle suggestion. It’s a spiritual reminder: "You don’t need to fix this. Just stop. I’ve got this."

In the context of recovery, the same principle appears in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous:

“We pause, when agitated or doubtful, and ask for the right thought or action.”
— Big Book, p. 87

That sacred pause becomes a spiritual act. Instead of reacting from fear or control, we learn to sit quietly and listen. The same passage goes on to promise that in this space, we avoid foolish decisions, stay calm, and stop burning energy trying to force outcomes. That pause—that stillness—saves us.

I’ve also heard wisdom from an old-timer in AA that goes:

“You don’t always have to move forward. Sometimes standing still, staying sober, and breathing is the most powerful act of growth.”

Other voices echo this truth:

“Only in still waters can we see our true reflection.” — Taoist Proverb

“Stillness is not about focusing on nothingness; it’s about creating an emotional clearing to allow ourselves to feel, think, dream, and question.” — Brené Brown

Even the world of horse racing knows the value of stillness. Horses must be still at the gate before the race can begin. That pause allows for the most efficient and successful start.

So it is with us.

From the Book of Mormon comes a deeply reassuring promise of what can happen when we surrender control and place our trust in God:

“But if ye will turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart, and put your trust in him, and serve him with all diligence of mind... he will, according to his own will and pleasure, deliver you out of bondage.”
— Mosiah 7:33

Stillness is where that trust begins.

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🕊 Closing Reflection:

In both scripture and recovery, stillness is more than silence—it's a sacred pause, a doorway to clarity, healing, and connection. Whether in the chaos of the world or the turbulence within, we are invited to be still and trust that God is present, guiding, and powerful. In that stillness, we don't find weakness—we find wisdom, our next right step, and the strength to move forward with grace.

Conquest Not, Yet Win the War

 

I’ve heard it said: “Conquest not, yet win the war.” At first glance, it sounds like a military metaphor — but its wisdom goes far deeper. Many of us have fought to be the best, to achieve success, to earn recognition, status, and power. Some have reached those heights — kings, queens, presidents, even popes. Yet without humility and love, history often remembers such figures not for their triumphs, but for the emptiness behind their thrones.

That’s why I was struck by a quote attributed to Alexander the Great, a man whose name is nearly synonymous with conquest:

“Whatever possession we gain by our sword cannot be sure or lasting, but the love gained by kindness and moderation is certain and durable.”

For a man of war to express such clarity about the limits of power — and the enduring strength of love — is both surprising and profound.

This echoes a truth found not just in ancient philosophy, but in the principles of recovery and spiritual living. In Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, Bill Wilson writes in Step Seven:

“True ambition is not what we thought it was. True ambition is the deep desire to live usefully and walk humbly under the grace of God.”

Here, “winning the war” doesn’t mean dominating others or climbing to the top — it means surrendering pride and ego, and choosing to serve. Our greatest victories are internal.

This is the great paradox: that strength and security do not come from control, but from surrender and trust. As Dr. Bob Smith said:

“Seek humility and an open mind. Look for the good in others and try to do what’s right, not what’s easy.”

To those who would seek power — take counsel from the scholars and the scriptures. The greatest leaders in history were not those who conquered by force, but those who led with love, restraint, and service.

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Wisdom from Scripture and Scholars

“The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
— Matthew 23:11–12 (NIV)

“One who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and one whose temper is controlled than one who captures a city.”
— Proverbs 16:32 (NRSV)

“The more one forgets himself — by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love — the more human he is.”
— Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

“The soft overcomes the hard; the gentle overcomes the rigid. Everyone knows this is true, but few can put it into practice.”
— Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

“I have not commanded you to come up hither that ye should fear me... I have been suffered to spend my days in your service... and yet, I do not boast in my own strength.”
— Mosiah 2:10–11, Book of Mormon

“No power or influence can or ought to be maintained... only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned.”
— Doctrine and Covenants 121:39–42

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In the End

Lasting influence does not come through domination. It is love, service, and gentleness that accomplish what no authoritarian ever could. Those who win the true war are not those who take power, but those who give themselves in love and humility.

So when you’re tempted to push harder, strive more, or win at any cost — pause. Ask yourself: Am I seeking conquest? Or am I learning to win the war that matters most — the one within?