Living Clean

by Narcotics Anonymous

  We use the tools we associate with spirituality from our very early recovery: We practice prayer and meditation, we go to meetings, we take suggestions, we work steps. Once we can identify what our spirituality feels like to us, we recognize that other things in our lives are spiritual.

  Making music is an act of prayer for some of us; walking out in nature can be a meditation. “I’m not a religious person at all,” said one member, “but I was out in the ocean one day, floating, and I could feel my connection to the water holding me up, and the sky above, and the people onshore, and all of it. That feeling of connection was a powerful thing.” When we practice our gratitude by sharing with others, we begin to feel our connection with one another and to something bigger.

  Each time we feel that connection—however we attain it—we understand a little more. We see ourselves as part of something greater and seek to live in harmony with it. When we achieve that harmony, the freedom we feel is unmistakable. We are freed from our feelings of alienation and inadequacy, and from the self-centered fear that once seemed to infect all of our thoughts and actions. That freedom comes and goes, but the first time we feel it we are given a new hope that life might not have to hurt so much. Addiction is a painful disease. Our spirituality doesn’t kill that pain, but it gives us the ability to move through it, past it, and out into the rest of our lives. We can accept our feelings, feel them, and move on. We begin to trust that the pain we feel at moments in our lives will not consume us. We can start to trust ourselves to feel without fearing that our emotions will destroy us.

  Part of learning is making mistakes. We learn as much by missing the mark as we do by finding our target. Inventory is the process of going back over our experience to discover where we were living in harmony with our values and where we were not. If we didn’t take personal inventory, pray, and meditate, we wouldn’t know whether we were practicing principles in all our affairs. We wouldn’t be awake to reality. The steps keep us in tune with the principles, and they keep us in tune with ourselves. As we get better at it, we can identify earlier and earlier the points at which we begin to go astray. Often it’s the smallest changes that make the biggest difference in our lives. In the same way that a small change in course greatly alters the destination of ships at sea, small changes in the way we respond to life can free us from old, repetitive patterns and open us to new ways of thinking and acting.

  We practice with spiritual principles; we try them out, go to extremes, drop them altogether, and then find which ones have become important to us. As long as we are willing, we continue to change. Our values become clear to us as we act. The principles we once practiced as an exercise, or because it was suggested, become a part of us. Things that are profoundly difficult in the beginning of our recovery become second nature to us. We may not notice this change until we fall away from our new habits for a moment. For example, it can be very hard to start going to meetings again when we have been away for a while. Formerly a habit, meeting attendance once again requires discipline. It gets easier with practice, just like it did the first time.

  As we get better at practicing our recovery, we fear ourselves less. We develop new skills and get used to the idea of practicing principles in new areas of our lives, even when we’re scared. We come to know that pain can be a catalyst for growth, and not just a threat to our newfound equilibrium. On the other hand, we also learn that pain is not the same as growth; it must spur us to action if we want to find relief from it. We become more willing to take the action that will set us free. As our tolerance for pain starts to diminish, our need for change comes sooner.

  Spirituality in Action

  Understanding and embracing the steps and traditions is important for all of us. But we must use what we learn, or it is of no value. When we engage in selfless service, we find that all of the principles we have come to love and learn are called upon. It isn’t easy to get out of our own way, but that is precisely what frees us from our self-made prisons. Sometimes it is clear that we need to change or we are in trouble; at other times, we are free to stay where we are, but it might mean selling ourselves short. There are many actions we can take when we need to change, but the simplest ones are often the most important. When we give to others, we get out of our own way enough to get a different perspective on our lives. Strangely, the most unselfish things we do are often the most rewarding. Selfless service is service to our Higher Power, our fellow human beings, and ourselves. When we are part of the process, we see a greater power working through us to make a difference in other people’s lives. When we see it happen, we have a harder time denying its reality.

  We start out in survival mode, and come to live a life beyond our dreams. Even though we have heard it said in meetings for years, it can still be a surprise when our world opens. And sometimes that can be very frightening. There are moments when life opens up before us with so many options that it seems strangely empty. We who have chosen among bad options for years often find that too many choices can make us really uncomfortable. We must come to terms with our own resistance in order to make a commitment to the program. We may be scared to make that leap. There is no way of knowing where it will take us.

  We can be afraid to want things too badly because it seems selfish, or because we fear they will be taken from us. Another member shared, “I believed it was unacceptable to fail, and I believed I was a failure. So there really was no out for me. I needed tools to survive my own humanity.” Freedom from our old ideas doesn’t come easily, and it doesn’t all come at once. Thank goodness for that. The truth is, if we went all the way through that process at one time, we might not survive it.

  Accepting our freedom is a massive act of spiritual courage. A member shared, “Early in recovery someone told me I could have a life now. It was like I was hearing it for the first time. Life had been passing me by, mostly because I couldn’t see myself in it. NA gave me the spirit to be courageous about life again, to just go out and … live!” Our dreams and wishes can be a form of guidance. That “fleeting glimpse” might not be where we are actually going, but it may set the course for our journey.

  When we are willing to move toward our dreams, we end up living well beyond them. “I was afraid that if I got what I wanted, there wouldn’t be anything left for me to do in recovery,” one member confessed. Meeting our goals is not the end of the story. The end of the journey toward a goal is often the beginning of a new phase in our lives. Many of us are used to being driven by crisis or calamity. It can take practice to learn to be motivated by something other than pain. Being willing to step out and act because something feels right to us takes a new kind of trust. “Just as I struggled to list my assets in my first Fourth Step, I struggle to list my goals and the things I enjoy now,” one member said. We transform need into desire, and obsession into determination. When we become willing to accept what it really means to set ourselves free, we are in for quite a ride.

  After years of recovery, we can look back at the work we have done and be grateful and satisfied—and we can see the terrible gaps in it as well. There is a moment in our lives when we may recognize how much of that work has been in service to the belief that if we do the right things, we will get what we want. When we realize what we have been seeking is not conscious contact but constant comfort, we are appalled. Does this mean that my relationship with my Higher Power is false? Is my recovery a lie? Some spiritual awakenings are also rude awakenings. We see clearly, and what we see may be alarming. When we awaken to the darkness within ourselves, it hurts. “The first time I looked inside and saw the truth about some of the things I had done,” said one member, “I thought that was the truth about me. I was terrified. I thought, I’ve been given the opportunity to see all this grace around me, only to be shown it wasn’t for me.”

  The ability to change our assumptions about the world is one of the most important freedoms we have, because it enables us to see alternatives we couldn’t imagine before. We disguised our low self-e
steem as lack of interest in the world around us, and saw our lives as a narrow path between bad alternatives. “I saw myself as an obstacle to God’s will,” said another member. Our relationship to our Higher Power has suffered a lot of damage in our addiction, and it can be one of the hardest to amend.

  We know that indifference or intolerance toward spiritual principles is very dangerous for us, but sometimes we develop a different kind of intolerance after we have been clean for a while. We may develop a set of beliefs in recovery and resist anything that seems to threaten them or call them into question. But this is precisely the way that what we know about the truth can be revised. The truth is not what changes; it’s what we know about it, how we understand it. As we get closer to the truth we come to understand that it cannot hurt us, even if it is painful in the moment. A member shared, “Letting go of old beliefs was hard because I didn’t really know what I believed to begin with.” The work we do in the steps can help us figure out what we believe and whether our beliefs still work for us.

  “I used to feel embarrassed, strange, and empty when I prayed,” another member admitted. “My relationship with my God required that I persevere. I had to keep praying through the times when I didn’t feel anything. It took a long time for it to become natural to me.” Being willing to keep trying when it feels hard—or when it doesn’t feel like anything at all—is an act of faith. We get through these difficult times by having a daily spiritual practice: The habit carries us through until the feelings change. We have faith in the experience of our fellow members that somehow, this practice is going to help.

  Willingness to step out and try a relationship with a Higher Power can be powerful, but we may hesitate in the beginning. We put a toe in the water first. We may struggle with prayer and meditation for a long time before we feel something engage. One member shared, “I experimented with different practices for seven years before I found the right grace in the right place. Finding the path for my spirituality was like finding shoes that fit.” Another member shared that she was so resistant to prayer that her sponsor resorted to extremes: “Put your Basic Text on one side of the room, sit on the other side, and reach out your hand,” said the sponsor. “You have just prayed.” However we do it, prayer is an act of reaching out for help and connection. It is an act of humility and honesty, and for some of us it is the first honest or humble action we take.

  We can be much more comfortable in an old rut than on a new plateau. We usually don’t notice that we’re stuck until we have been there for a while, and by then it’s hard to break free. We have to be willing to be uncomfortable if we don’t want to stay stuck. Trying something new can be its own surrender. It can be very difficult to allow ourselves to experience our freedom. “As an addict I’m a creature of habit,” said one member. “The third time I’m in a restaurant, I order the usual.” Our comfort with habits makes it easy to stay in a routine. Fear of the disease sometimes makes us afraid to step too far out on a limb, lest we find ourselves in danger. Trying out new perspectives, new beliefs, and new experiences can all be part of living spiritually.

  Our certainty can keep us from the humility we so desperately need. Open-mindedness is a cornerstone of our recovery, and that includes being open-minded about our own program. When we stop being teachable, we are in trouble. Too often we create barriers where guideposts are more appropriate. When we build walls instead of pathways, we don’t just keep new possibilities out; we lock ourselves into old ways of seeing and thinking about the world. It is easy to get caught in our own trap this way.

  When we finally find some relief, we want to hold on to it. As that relief grows into joy and gratitude, it becomes more precious to us. We can be so afraid to lose what we have gained that we hold ourselves back from growth.

  We may believe there is only one way for NA to work, and that’s the way it has worked for us so far. When a certain practice or way of being has saved our lives, we may refuse to deviate from it. That grit and resolve can save our lives, and it can be really useful when we are carrying the message as well. But with that hard edge comes the risk that we will simply become stubborn and closed-minded, excluding members who don’t do it the way we do. When we think we know exactly what the program has to offer, we don’t leave room for it to grow or for us to continue to grow within it. Even worse, when the time comes that we need something more, we have convinced ourselves that it won’t be available through NA. Our willingness to share our ongoing experience in recovery helps our groups to experience the same growth and renewal that we do as individuals.

  We have many beginnings throughout our recovery. Early on we learn that we can begin our day again at any time. As we progress, we learn that we can always begin a new journey in recovery, and we can start over whenever we need to. We don’t need to blow up our lives to get a fresh start. We may think we are done when, in fact, we are just getting started. When NA has given us all we have asked for, that’s the beginning of a new story for us, a new chapter. The achievement of our goals is a new beginning on our journey, and as the journey continues we will need all of the tools we have been given. Just because we’ve used them already doesn’t mean it’s time to turn them in.

  Conscious Contact

  As we develop more ways to relate to our Higher Power, we find benefits in all of our relationships. For some of us this never comes to involve a Higher Power that we would call God: “I trust the unity in NA,” said a member, “that it will reach out to me and be there when I reach out. NA has carried me when I couldn’t walk.” Learning to pray is a process. The journey is its own reward. “I learned the Serenity Prayer without the first word, because I knew I didn’t believe in that. When I was working the Third Step for the first time, I began to pray by saying “thank you.” Most of the time now it’s not “please” or “thank you” or any kind of dialogue; it just is. I take a deep breath and cherish this quiet moment of being connected.”

  Prayer helps us to let go of our fear and distrust and to live in faith. We don’t have to understand it for it to work. We open the door to a faith deep within that allows us to meet adversity with serenity. “I strive to practice prayer in every moment,” said one member. “Of course I fail every day, but it is changing my perspective. I am very aware of the fragility and preciousness of life.” Instead of giving so much thought to why things happen, we look for what we can learn. A member shared, “In early recovery my prayers were sporadic acts of desperation and surrender. I learned prayer as a way to practice conscious contact. Now I find if I can remember my Higher Power in the moment, my life becomes a prayer, my wisdom is activated in meditation, and I exist within the will of my Higher Power. I am spiritually free, the farthest from active addiction and the closest to the pure joy of existence in the moment.”

  Many members believe that our Higher Power communicates with us through the people who come into our lives. One member explained, “Sharing in meetings is my highest form of prayer, because I know my Higher Power is there—I can feel it—and I don’t hold back. Often I need another person in front of me so I can pretend I’m talking to them when I talk to God. Sometimes I get answers through them.” Active listening is a form of meditation. Some of the most important messages are delivered through some unlikely people. When we listen with an open mind, we can hear the message we need. One of the gifts of empathy is being able to hear one another’s truth. We learn to settle inside ourselves. That spiritual peace becomes the root of our emotional stability, and it gives us the courage to take risks. When we can quiet our minds, we can better hear the answers we need. So often we are desperate for answers that are right in front of us.

  In some ways, conscious contact with a Higher Power is no different from any other relationship. Meeting a person every day at the same time and place is a good beginning in getting to know someone, but to improve that relationship we have to be willing to share openly. Intimacy grows over time. When we are close to someone through a difficult time, we learn whether w
e can trust them. The relationships that carry us through hardship are precious to us.

  Being present and in the moment, and feeling alive, aware, and connected are feelings we hear about most often when members are sharing about their experiences with prayer and meditation. Most of us don’t feel that profound sense of unity in every waking moment, but just knowing that we can feel it sometimes brings a sense of security.

  “The fleeting feeling I long for is peace within, based on nothing outside myself. I just have to be willing to put the world down long enough to have a chance at it.” Even if we experience that peace for just a moment, we can keep it in our hearts as we move through our lives. A member said: “I was so tired of that committee in my head talking endlessly about how I wasn’t good enough and nothing would be alright. So one day in meditation I gave them all musical instruments. You know, they’re a pretty good band.”

  When we notice the word “ritual” embedded in the word “spiritual,” we realize how important it is that our spirituality have some kind of regular expression. Practicing principles is just like any other form of exercise: The more regularly and consciously we do it, the better we get at it. “When I don’t practice my morning prayer,” said one member, “I feel disconnected, like I am running on my own power.” Of course, we do not tell anyone how, when, or where to pray. Conscious contact may not involve words at all. But some sort of regular pause for reflection is useful. “I struggle with getting to 100 percent,” said a member. “I make good progress toward a goal and then I get scared, back off, and berate myself for not making it all the way there.” Regular spiritual practice teaches us the discipline to follow through on other commitments.