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BUILDER OF THOUGHTS - THE MESSAGE
I first stumbled upon the term “Mental Equivalent” while reading Emmet Fox. Sounds trippy right? However, it’s simple. Mental equivalent merely means “reflection”. You can’t have one type of mind and a different type of an environment. Insert Proverbs 27:19 “As water reflects the face so ones life reflects the heart”. I always think of Lion King when Simba leans over a puddle to embrace his reflection in the water. You simply can’t not see your reflection if you lean over a body of water (given the sun is in the right place and all that jazz, you get the picture). We could say this is a Universal Law. Enter the afflicted addict/alcoholic; no wonder the circumstances of our lives characterize absolute destruction! Our minds are a living war. Utter insanity is our lot. But for the Grace of God we are set free. The obsession lifts. Sobriety begins to string itself together. No longer able to turn to the poison of drugs and alcohol our problems become acu…
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Thieves of Moments

The most frightening moment is when you see – with sober eyes - how your addiction struck terror into the hearts of your loved ones. Mother smiles. Her warm joy dances on her face like sunlight. Father’s nod of approval jolts glee into his walk. Behind Mother’s smile and beneath Father’s strut is terror. Unadulterated fear. Attending to a sober life, repairing the damages done, paying the money back; making our own way on our own feet is good, indeed. However, the stark reality: the harm we’ve wrought upon others – spiritually, emotionally, and physically – we are scarcely aware.  Years ago, an old sponsor said to me:  “I’ll probably never be aware of the full measure of my wrongs done others. If I knew, I may not be able to bare it.” How appallingly true. Most loved ones  remained petrified for years after the addict recovers. This diseases affects loved ones at a cellular level. The disease takes its toll in active addiction, during convalescence and well after recovery finds its ro…

From Darkness to Light ~ Mike F.

“But if you will seek God earnestly, and plead with the almighty, if you're pure and upright, even now he will rouse himself on your behalf and restore you to your prosperous state. Your beginnings will seem humble, so prosperous your future will be”. ~ Book of Job
From Darkness to Light....~ At a very young age I felt a disconnect spiritually. A lot of times I felt less then or that I didn't quite fit in. I would use sports to compensate or lose myself In collecting baseball cards. I started experimenting with weed and liquor in middle school. When I was a freshman in high school my step father passed away. That crushed me. The disconnect I felt as a child got worse and there was a void inside me that I could not fill. The pain led me to use drugs and alcohol on a regular basis. I was addicted by 16 years old; selling to support my habit. During this time I put myself in some horrible situations. I was robbed at gun point with a shotgun put to my head; not something I ever tho…

A Pilgrimage Back to Peace

A Pilgrimage Back to Peace
Tipasa is a ruined Roman city. It sits forty miles west of Algiers, atop cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. It is a place, sacred to the author, who wandered there as a young man through its ancient overgrown architecture. “Return to Tipasa”, the essay by Albert Camus, follows the author’s thoughts and feelings as he revisits the city after the Second World War. He is not the same man that had experienced its beauty before. His once uncorrupted perspective has been robbed of him, he is jaded. He longs to see and feel as he used to be able. He returns to this magical place, Tipasa, that is a monument for him to the purity and strength within that he longs to regain. The city itself stands as metaphor for what once was beautiful, for what has fallen, and for what has since been made beautiful again, with the help of nature’s encroachment and viewed through the lens of the innocence of youth. After lifetimes of pain and separation, through the internal wa…

Our Story ~ The Thought Came

It just came. It was my first treatment center in South Florida. I say “first” because I was to shuffle between many more after my discharge. I was standing in the “Med Line” at said treatment center – I have no clue what sparked this thought – however, the thought came. “Wouldn’t it be cool if we had t-shirts that carried a spiritual message?” Not the corny recovery slogan bullshit that you see in A.A. halls. A message that you have to ponder. A design that everyone will wear. Simply spiritual. Open to all denominations. Never exclusive. I imagined a white T-shirt. The bottom half of the shirt design would be blue ocean water carrying a silhouette of a diver. Hugging the crew neck – congruent with the curve of the neck – on the front of the shirt would read “DIVE DEEP.” Across the back of the neck would read “WITHIN YOURSELF.” Neat right!? Haha. Looking back, my inner critic screams “corny!” The critic can be very loud sometimes. I digress. The thought came. The seed was planted. Be…

Grave Thy Companion

GRAVE THY COMPANION
Fiery shadow claw deep the surface of life  Life wrought destructive taste – embraced by a boy destined to slay the man They all preached oh how he could be – he could be - he could be; fuck them allThey see not thy reflection gazing back predatory eyes gleaming
Slavering for the throat – ambiguous strain for life we yield

Hushed thoughts that scream Relief is isolated
Gallop good companion – if thy reach me -  penny these tortured eyes
I have but to accompany thy self To the gates of hell we stride forth
I march in line trembling detour
He screams; I abide the order It is just that; disastrous order
Hollowed prints of those before me, embrace the gravel with a silence all could hear
The gates call – I lend my ear The movement is breached – we find our eternal sleep
Thy grave is my companion – the silence none could hear I’ve lent this demon all future years
~ Submitted Anonymous

Poem Evokes the Glory of the Moment

Isn’t it pretty to think so?


Grandpa thinks with his hands folded behind his head Isn’t it pretty to think so? Yes, it truly is – pipe packed with tobacco as smoke rings cloud his head The wrinkles were earned. He does not wish them away or wish them to be They’re simply enclosed within the urn of eternity Yet, isn’t it pretty to think so? Just for awhile and a while will come The body plays it role too die - his soul will rise through the tobacco-scorched sky Before this dawn of truth, thine eyes have pondered much – he sits in awe and wonder of the life to come by his grandchild’s touch. Isn’t it pretty to think so? The porch creeks a beautiful melody as he rocks in his flawless chair – “isn’t it pretty? This music to my ears, what pleasure my calloused torn hands brought to the here, introduced to the now. This farm is my field of harvest. My spirit rich in reward to what it has sown. Isn’t this….” The porch chatters, interrupting his pure thoughts, more music to his ears, the trample of h…