Jason Reitz:  

I sobered up, I survived, and good things came to me... Reflection on ¿The Quiet Before the Storm¿ September 20, 2003 The Big Book states something to the effect that right now the causes of alcoholism are as yet unknown. Genetics, yes of course, but what is unknown is the why it happens. It says that one day science may find a way for alcoholics to drink as normal folks do (I must find that page). Along these lines, in Chapter 4, besides literally ramming the GOD concept down the reader¿s throat, allusions are made that men in the past were equally intelligent as they are today. What has advanced man¿s intellectual progress is the scientific method. What bothers me is that it suggests that while such notions as the earth being round were once considered heretical, one must assume that spirituality will one day be the norm, much as plane flight is now taken for granted. Yes, these people do believe in GOD and that such a belief has taken their sufferings away from them, but I cannot concede that GOD exists on pure faith alone, as this chapter suggests of me. The AA¿s who have written this almost imply that if this tenet is not adopted from the start, then the alcoholic will relapse. I cannot agree with this either. It seems obvious to me that there is an inherent danger in comparing the spiritual realm with that of the scientific; one simply cannot suggest that one exists simply because so much progress has been made in the other. ¿Physicians who are familiar with alcoholism agree there is no such thing as making a normal drinker out of an alcoholic. Science may one day accomplish this, but it hasn¿t done so yet.¿ (Page 31, Alcoholics Anonymous.) While I have no problem with the admission of my alcoholism, should I blindly accept faith in GOD because science hasn¿t yet made a normal drinker out of an alcoholic? The AA¿s who authored The Big Book had no other choice at their disposal other than to accept GOD into their lives in order to remain sober. Furthermore, it is quite a stretch to conclude that as more time goes by, GOD will be the natural conclusion to the alcoholics¿ sobriety. Science has proven so much for man, and will undoubtedly continue to do so, but be careful not to state that man must accept GOD in order to be saved. Man, in many ways, is proving himself the end all of things. Man must not forgot to do for himself; he cannot turn his will over to something just for the sake of doing so. Spirituality is much more delicate than science. The other day on one of the Christian radio shows, I caught a segment about a woman who had written a guidebook for women "suffering" from same sex relationships. She had apparently been sexually assaulted when she was young and because of this, began to show signs of extreme tom-boyishness as she grew up. She experimented with women sexually in high school and realized that it was not Jesus¿ will for her to be a lesbian, so she became heterosexual. Her point was that homosexuals cannot say they are born that way. Something in life (almost always early on) occurs that makes them retaliate in such a way as to choose this life-style. Sexually assaulted children, she says, are more predisposed to a sensitivity that causes them to seek the comfort and love in partners that they never allowed themselves to experience. She evidently started some centers for the "rehabilitation" of homosexuals and the results were not that impressive. As it turned out, only 30% of those who entered were ever successful in becoming heterosexual. The radio program reminded me of what I had heard on the same station about alcoholism. Christians will not concede that a person is born with a ¿disease¿ called alcoholism [or homosexuality for that matter]. These behaviors, they assert, are learned at some point, and are the effect of Satan working in these people¿s lives. These people are, therefore, morally corrupted and suffer from a loss of will. Viktor Frankl mentioned something akin to this by stating that existential frustration can lead to the bottle. But is it really that simple? As alcoholics, we are told that we are born with a disease that separates us from social drinkers; that our brains are configured differently. How, then, can it be maintained that our dealings with alcohol are due to boredom or moral depravity? What I have learned about alcoholism is a bit more intricate than such general and sweeping statements. Alcoholism, wherever it comes from, is dealt with only by staying away from the bottle. One cannot learn to drink socially. ///////////////////////////// Sinclair began it like this- To hell with all those things, even with me, and the one I hold the slightest bit of esteem for. She has long since left me alone at barside. If anyone were to read even just a few of my lines, they¿d realize their mistake, they¿d repent, and undoubtedly love anything that came into their hearts with all their might. I took prose and a few extra sheets of loose-leaf with me. There is only one chance, one chance within a million chances to get it right. I had it, I saw it plainly enough, but could I remember to put it to word? ¿Cryogenics? Why? Why would ever a poor mortal wish to make himself mortal? One cannot gain immortality through such means, at least not through one which I will live to be privy to. This wondrous science, this text-book worshipping cult of the newest age. Do not consult or revolt. There is a spirit that has already continued in another body when its predecessor has been brought back to life. But what, then, when it cannot be with its familiar old mate? Zombees. I think once again we¿ll make a few myths, immortalizing not ourselves but time-less romance novels that were time-less before they were even written. I sat alone, drugged, thinking about my own novelty that could be written; a poem, yet no words came. My muse, it seemed, was fond of the young, like Hitler, and withdrew when she saw the impending doom. As for myself, I scribbled trying hard not to make the word-of-mind the word-of-writ just dribble. I lit a cigarette, cold, along with my dog, alone in the garage. Fluorescent lighting, one light long and humming. I paced a bit troubled, well, a lot troubled because I knew that I must make a change. And so I pressed my head to the garage door fogged with frost and ice cold to my skull cap. I felt like someone was watching me as I tried to decide tonight¿s fate. This is why I had such a fear of the day-light. It wasn¿t a rehabilitation sort of thing, but spiritual. A life where alcohol pictured only as a small part within, holding hands among a vast array termed a ¿personality.¿ And when I turned around, I saw my dog, and though I loved him, I knew that his only two loves were me and the outside. Opening the door, I knew he would leave me, alone as I was shivering in an uncommonly frosty autumn night. I flicked my cigarette into the grass and was amazed that it continued to burn even after I had managed to get him in without a leash, while I spat and cursed and called to him with threats to his life. And from there I can only say that it came down to spirit- a man¿s and his dog¿s. I think once I heard an old wise man say that he could never understand me, for I had been born a human and few of us are ever born as wise or as revolutionaries though I knew I was neither of these myself. And if there was ever a child who wished to come within this fuelled but un-attended presence- please tell me¿ It¿s all a mere game of displays and he who instructs me is well aware of this. Can we never let the raptor escape as Hesse attests? Can we never cease in those beliefs that we are individualities? Do we learn our whole lives through or do we ever peel the skin of this and past lives and be as GOD that we see ourselves to be? Drunken, powerful, degenerative, can¿t we, brother, find some applause in the Tantric trade? Haven¿t I done enough of this reading at barside, teete...Expand for more