A Bigger Understanding (Wisdom of the 12-Steps)

Bottom line: the “12-Steps of Recovery” encompass the change/growth process.

I'm a "lumper."

Way back when, during my undergraduate studies, an anthropology professor told my class, "Some are lumpers and some are splitters," referring to anthropologists in general. I knew immediately I was a "lumper." I see parallels and look for similarities, overlap and common threads.

Over time I’ve come to appreciate the simplicity, integrity and non-judgemental nature of the 12-Steps of Recovery. I'm struck by their universality of application and scope in daily human struggle. In a sense, they are a western how-to version of Buddha’s tenet regarding suffering. That is, in short: 1) all suffering is derived from desire; and 2) let go of desire to attain inner peace (by utilizing appropriate tools). Both encompass spirituality, an underlying human need for connection to the “bigger picture.”

I’ve never practiced the 12-Steps officially as a recovering individual. I learned them as a licensed therapist working in the drug/alcohol recovery field over twenty-five years. I attended numerous 12-Step meetings working with those in recovery and observed the steps in action. I exchanged ideas and shared with colleagues in various drug treatment settings. And I lectured about the 12-Steps as applied to co-dependency.

I don’t claim to be an expert in recovery, but am an expert in my life, which includes what I’ve learned about myself in relationship to the 12-Steps. I've personally practiced the 12-Steps over time. I participated in staff self-assessment groups in two residential drug/alcohol treatment settings. I sought personal counseling, overcame suicidal thoughts and low self-esteem. I participated in Est, “human potentials” training seminars created by Werner Erhard, which reinforced my self-acceptance.

Thus, I’ve experienced the 12-Steps from “both sides,” and having participated in therapy sessions as a practitioner and client, I can say in hindsight that my healing has followed the 12-Step path.

Aristotle said, “Man is by nature a social animal. . . .” Beyond that, and I’m positive that I’m not alone, I define humans as “spiritual” animals. We have a need to understand our existence, including our place in the scheme of life and the world/universe.

Though the “identified problem” varies among individuals, the 12-Steps (utilized by 12-Step programs) foster a deeper understanding, increased emotional balance and enhances “spirituality,” which to me looks no different than the goals and outcome of therapy/counseling.

Photo Credit: Hubble Space Telescope

Start From Where You Are (Wisdom of the 12-Steps)

Bottom line: you always start, or take your next step, from where you are at any given moment.

Having had experiences, both as a professional working with drug addicts and alcoholics in recovery, and healing from my own childhood and military experiences of PTSD, I plan to post blogs on the theme of "Wisdom of the 12-Steps." Moreover, I'll include how I think those steps are universal to human change, need and applicability to many every day problems.

I'd pondered what to write in restarting my blog (during a six-month design of my website), particularly whether to write about the theme of “Wisdom of the 12-Steps.” Inevitably, I asked myself a litany of questions, such as, how would I start this, where should I . . . and where need I?

In spite of my trepidation, I circled back to phrases such as Dragnet’s Joe Friday’s by-line, “Just the facts, Ma'am,” “Cut to the chase” (which I understand originated in the silent movie era), and the more recent Nike logo, “Just do it,”and accepted that my “pondering process” could continue ad infinitum and ad nauseam.

Lao Tzu, a Chinese philosopher, is attributed with saying, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Any journey, simple or complex, long or short, out of necessity or a whim, whether mental, emotional, physical, and/or spiritual began, or begins, with the first step . . . then proceeds from there. Corrections and adjustments can be made made along the way, and are, as necessary.

Don’t get me wrong. Planning is helpful, important and essential in some cases. But, thinking, especially when stuck in fear, isn’t the same as action, and all too often thinking and planning can be used as excuses, thus an avoidance of committing to the journey.

So, in the vein of the 12-Steps of Recovery, I needed to “Suit up and show up,” (a common encouragement in 12-Step meetings), take the next step, in spite of the risks, and thus arrived at this post, which I remind myself may not be “perfect,” though doesn’t need to be . . . because without this "first step" (or next step), I wasn't going anywhere, except in my head.

Photo Credit: drbigtoe - imgur.com

Another Dose of Torture (PCT)

Bottom Line: Even a pandemic can't keep a hiker "down."

11.3.20 -

COVID still raging in the US, Mark Reinhardt and I nevertheless had ants in our shorts, and since we both agreed to abide by the recommended precautions, our strong respective needs overcame any reservations to rendezvous at Whitewater Preserve, near Palm Springs.

On my COVID (corona vacation in-doors) breakout hike, I left my car at the graveled parking area at mile 211.6, mid-morning, under clear sky, headed north and “up canyon” on the PCT. I had hours to cover the six-to-seven-mile stretch before Mark would arrive at Whitewater Preserve. Besides, fingers crossed, I needed to test my bionic knee, implanted July 2019.

With mild elevation gain, slow and steady progress over the next few hours took me to the trail junction to Canyon View Loop.

Canyon Loop View Trail junction with PCT.

When I came to the proverbial fork in the road . . . I took it, veered right onto Canyon Loop View Trail and descended to the Whitewater Preserve entrance road.

By 4 PM, or so, I reached the road and stretched out where a tree shaded the road’s gentle-sloped gravel shoulder. There, I snoozed off and on while I waited for Mark to arrive on his way from work.

In preparation for our next day’s hike, we performed a vehicle shuffle, retrieved my car and left Mark's near the Preserve Headquarters, then proceeded to the Hacienda Mexican Restaurant in Big Bear for dinner . . . and draft beers.

11.4.20 -

Mark slept comfortably in a hotel room, I presumed, while I spent a miserable night in the back of my Toyota Camry.

By early morning, my ordeal had provided me sufficient motivation to get onto the trail, anything an improvement over remaining in my half-trunk-half-rear-seat bed.

Breakfast consumed at the Lumberjack Cafe in Big Bear, we traversed the “OHV,” Off Highway Vehicle, road to Mission Creek Trail Camp, PCT mile 239.9.

The morning air still chilly in the shade, we headed south and down-slope towards Whitewater Preserve. Tree cover soon disappeared, as charred remains of trees blanketed the surrounding area, and with no cloud cover, the air rapidly warmed.

Connard, with evidence of fire damage in the background .

Sparse green shrubs dotted the landscape as a sign of early regeneration.

Prim8 made himself known, Downhill good.

Agreed, Prim8, I responded.

When we stopped for a half-hour lunch break, Prim8 and I shared a cheese-chunk along with a slice of bread and salami, then dried fruit.

As the day wore on, and Mark hiked ahead of Prim8 and I, my questions and doubts arose, then increased as foot blisters made themselves known. My joints and muscles ached, as well.

I’d guessed we neared our destination, as the terrain flattened somewhat and the valley widened.

Though not that far ahead, I saw Mark stopped at a trail junction.

Referring to his map as I pulled alongside, he said, “We have another four-and-a-half-miles to go.”

“What?” I said. “How could that be?”

Ain’t so, Prim8 said.

“Yeah,” Mark said. “We head west from here. We’ll have hiked twenty-four-and-a-half miles today.”

We’d expected to be finished at this distance, about twenty miles. Though clearly, nowhere near running water, something was amiss and the map indicated the Whitewater lay two ridges to our west.

Crap. I’m knackered.

Prim8 whined, Quit.

Can’t do that, fella. Dusk is coming and we want to get out here without a major problem, though I wanted to sit for a long rest.

We’d never traversed this trail and getting lost in the dark wouldn’t help our situation!

“How ‘bout, I just wait here for you?” I said to Mark, understanding that absurdity.

Mark chuckled.

Without reasonable alternative, Prim8 and I followed Mark westward, while we fessed up to not studying the trail maps before our hike. I’d assumed the trail distance would be a simple matter of arithmetic, subtract point A from point B. So, much for that assumption.

Wearing a headlamp, I plodded forward on leaden feet, while blisters complained and calve muscles griped, and my progress slowed as the darkness overtook us.

“We probably should stay together at this point, Mark,” I yelled, utmost caution in mind.

He slowed his pace and I caught up.

We lost the PCT trial where it crossed the Whitewater River, instead, worked our way down the river bed. At least, the white noise of running water soothed me—at least, I wouldn’t die of thirst—and I didn’t need to fight off mosquitoes.

Prim8 and I stumbled over and around boulders, as I kept an eye on Mark’s head light, looking for signs of any problems he may encounter.

Just a little farther, I reminded Prim8. Just a little farther.

When Mark finally veered to the far bank of the river, we reached a well-trod path.

“Must be the PCT,” Mark said.

“Yeah,” I said, relieved that we on smoother, easier footing.

“I’ve been looking for the reflection off the signs,” he explained.

My distance countdown grew more earnest, ticking off the miles, then reduced to the quarter-miles, until we reached a trail junction sign, where I sat down.

Connard rests at the PCT-Whitewater Headquarters Trail junction.

“About a half-mile to go,” Mark said.

“Ugh,” I said, though relieved we knew what distance remained. Not knowing had gnawed at me. Usually does.

After my brief rest, I resumed my internal pep-talk countdown, as if I could teleport to Mark's car. Another hundred yards, Prim8. Crossing the river on a foot bridge, Prim8. Close now, Prim8. Mark's car in sight. One-hundred feet . . . twenty, ten, nine. . . .

Mark drove us back to my car at Mission Creek Trail Camp . . . while I recuperated.

“Spending the night in Big Bear?” I asked him.

“No, I’m heading straight back,” Mark said. “I need to work tomorrow.”

I took an unplanned circuitous route back to the hotel where Mark had spent the previous night and booked a room. I didn’t trust remaining awake on my drive home.

(Prim8's accumulated PCT progress: mile marker 239.9.)