“Behold, Service Was Joy: Discovering Life’s True Reward”

 Dear Reader, 

  I once believed that joy was something to be found—waiting in dreams or granted through good fortune. But life has taught me, through both experience and reflection, that true joy is not something we receive; it’s something we uncover through service, duty, and action. 

  

Rabindranath Tagore’s words echo this truth: 

  

“I slept and dreamt that life was joy. 

I awoke and saw that life was service. 

I acted and behold, service was joy.” 

  

This insight, whether expressed through the word “service” or “duty,” reminds us that joy is not the opposite of responsibility—it is the fruit of meaningful responsibility. 

  

The scriptures support this truth. In the Book of Mormon, King Benjamin teaches: 

  

“When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” 

(Mosiah 2:17) 

  

And Jesus himself taught: 

  

“He that is greatest among you shall be your servant.” 

(Matthew 23:11) 

  

These verses do not glorify exhaustion or self-neglect. Rather, they invite us to discover a deeper strength: the joy that comes when our hands, hearts, and intentions are united in lifting others. 

  

The Bhagavad Gita offers this parallel wisdom: 

  

“By working without attachment, one attains the Supreme.” 

(3:19) 

  

And in the world of recovery, we are reminded again and again: 

  

“Nothing will so much insure immunity from drinking as intensive work with other alcoholics. It works when other activities fail.” 

(Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 89) 

  

Serving others becomes more than just helpful—it becomes healing. 

  

Leo Tolstoy expressed it plainly: 

  

“The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity.” 

  

And Albert Schweitzer added: 

  

“The only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.” 

  

Whether from scripture, literature, or the voices of recovery, the message is the same: Joy is not found in watching life from the sidelines. It emerges when we give, lift, love, and serve. 

  

So let us rise each day not just to dream of joy, but to live it—through service, through duty, through love in action. 

  

By God's Grace. Amen 

From Triggers to Glimmers: Reframing Emotional Cues for Health and Recovery

 

Dear Reader,   

Yesterday I experienced an extensive range of emotions all triggered by starting a new service commitment.  Throughout much of my life I refrained from doing new things out of fear of failure or being laughed at or ridiculed.  

As a child, I would be full of tears as my mother dropped me off at summer camp.  Psychologically there may be many reasons for the fear; my point here is the "trigger" of doing something new with little previous training or exposure to the task at hand.    

In such moments, there always seemed no glimmer of hope that summer camp would be happy, joyous and rewarding. Over the years by stepping into new situations and learning new skills to cope with my fears, I have been able to reap the benefits of new jobs, new experiences, and new levels of happiness.  Yet the anticipation of something new continues to trigger the 'catastrophical tape'.  

It is precisely in such situations that I begin to look for glimmers.  Glimmers such as recalling all the times that I have gotten out of my comfort zone and found great fun and joy in a trip or an event.  Learning something new can carry the excitement of self-growth and discovery.  The overall result is to build "confidence in confidence and confidence in me!" as the song rhymes.  

While triggers can activate stress responses and hinder recovery, cultivating glimmers can support nervous system regulation, emotional healing, and long-term well-being. In recovery, we often learn to identify our triggers—the people, places, and memories that stir pain, anxiety, or the urge to escape. Triggers pull us into survival mode. They hijack the nervous system, shrink our sense of safety, and make healing feel just out of reach.  

But what if we gave just as much attention to their opposite?  

Glimmers are those small, almost fleeting moments that help the body feel safe again. The term comes from the work of Deb Dana, building on Stephen Porges’ Polyvagal Theory, which explains how our nervous system responds to danger—and to safety.  

Where triggers activate our sympathetic system (fight or flight), glimmers awaken the ventral vagal state, the part of the nervous system that lets us rest, connect, and feel at ease in the world. It’s where we can breathe deeply. Speak calmly. Laugh. Pray. Trust. Love.  

Glimmers might look like this:  The warmth of the sun on your face.  A favorite piece of music.  The quiet presence of a friend.  A meaningful prayer or a verse that stirs your spirit.  The smile of a child.  The feeling of being heard.  

These moments are small, but they’re not insignificant. In fact, they are micro-moments of healing—invitations for the nervous system to remember what it feels like to be safe, to be at home in the body and the world. In recovery, we're taught to take things one day at a time. Glimmers invite us to take things one moment at a time—to notice the good, the safe, the sacred as it quietly enters our day. While trauma addiction may have trained our bodies to stay on high alert, glimmers gently retrain us to trust. They don't erase the past, but they offer us glimpses of the future: a future where we can live from a place of peace, rather than protection.  

Scripture teaches us, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Stillness—true stillness—can only come when we feel safe enough to let our guard down. Glimmers are the gentle moments that lead us there.  

So, today, look for the glimmers. Don’t just avoid the triggers. Let healing find you in the light, in the laughter, in the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.  

Because recovery is not just about avoiding danger. It’s about learning to live again.