On Franz Kafka

I was sitting down to write my blogs just now, and a bug skittered from the window sill, up the speaker next to my table, across my computer desk, and eventually dropped from the ledge into the trash can. I don't often pay attention for serendipity, but in this case I felt drawn to write on Kafka.

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"The fact that there is nothing but a spiritual world deprives us of hope and gives us certainty."

I can't believe I am reading this for the first time in this moment.

I am going to out myself for those who don't know: My name is Woody, and I'm an alcoholic. No jokes, I am a member of A.A. I wanted to put that out there, as many of my blogs to this point have hinted to some kind of recovery in my life; also, this blog is going to speak to that program.

The main purpose of the A.A. meeting is to provide newcomers the opportunity to hear our sober members offer in a general way their experience, strength, and hope. Many metings, following the readings of the preamble, steps, and traditions, open the floor to a topic discussion at which point anyone is welcome to give their two-cents worth on the subject at hand. As the topic list is usually not more than 80-100 subjects, one can assume that the same topic will arise many, many times. They do. Trust me.

Lately, 'hope' has been turning up at a lot of meetings I attend. What happens after a bit of time passes in sobriety is that a member will hear the same topic so many times, his sharing on that topic becomes rote--either something they have said makes a lot of sense and he has noticed others perk at its mention, or it gets a laugh and thus becomes a part of the repertoire. This is my story with 'hope.'

The following is my 'hope' share, spoken by me God knows how many times. (OK, it's not verbatim, but I find it difficult to translate spoken word into text, so deal with it!)

"When I crawled into these rooms years ago, all I had left was hope. My drinking had left me a suicidal, homicidal, thoroughly beaten man. When I woke up in jail one more time, and found that my family would not bail me out like they used to, I called my grandfather, who has 38 years sober this year. He said he wouldn't bail me out, but he would take me to a meeting if I felt like I had finally had enough. I had, he did.

It was in the stories that you people told of your own experiences that gave me hope. Hell, all I had was hope. A.A. was the last house on the block for me. I had been to jails and institutions; all that was left for me was death, and I couldn't even get that right! On my last run, I had seen "Leaving Las Vegas" with Nic Cage and thought, "What a way to go!" My story was nothing like his. I didn't fall into bed with a gorgeous hooker who put me up in her apartment, while I sunk into deeper and deeper bliss, eventually dying in a romantic flourish. No, instead I found myself standing on a bar stool at TGI Friday's yelling to normal people that I was the second coming of Jesus and they had all better repent for the day had come. Like I said, I couldn't even drink myself to death. Plus I was too chickenshit to put my pistol in my mouth.

Anyhow, getting a sponsor and working these steps has brought about a complete psychic change in me, just like the book promises. What I have today is a sense of responsibility to my own well-being and the true and honest sense of purpose. What I call my higher power is not your higher power, nor do I care what your higher power is. All I know is that when I go to sleep at night, the meditation and prayer I do gives me peace and quiet; it shuts off that voice that constantly tries to tell me I don't deserve to be happy, sane, or sober. I hope that if you are new to A.A., you can find something to pray to that offers you the same serenity.

Like I said, 'hope' was all i had coming into these rooms. But I don't know or understand 'hope' any longer. The side-effect of a higher power is the constant reminder that everything is exactly how it should be in the world. This place, this universe, existed long before my footprints showed up and it will go on long after I leave here. My life is but a passing glimmer on the big picture. I don't need hope any longer as I now have faith that things are going to turn out exactly as they should--even if I don't like the way it happens. Hope, to me, is a necessary emotion at times, but one that ultimately must evolve; what I have now is confidence. Not only will the universe unfold exactly as it should, but the part I play in the world is exactly what it should be.

Hope has been replaced by faith. Faith gives me confidence. And trust. But still, I share my experience because I know that someday, a person is going to come into this room and my story will be the source of hope they need to hear."

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So, once again, I thought I had come up with something entirely new, developed some concept that no one had thought up yet, but it turns out that I didn't. Oh well, I guess I should get used to the idea that every sensible, logical, or beautiful idea I will ever have has been spoken or felt by someone before me. In some small way, that brings me comfort. I don't have to bear the weight of the world's creative effort on my shoulders. But I am in good company.

In the struggle between myself and the world, I second the world.