breathing

Choosing Friends

February 28, 2018 By John Du Cane

“Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.”—Euripides

How many really good friends do we have—of either gender—that we feel we could count on in a pinch, a bind or something far, far worse? Who would have our back and who would be happy to throw us under the bus when the chips started to fly? For good reason, in all cultures, strong friendship is revered—because when it comes down to it, abiding friendship and loyalty can be all too rare.

We are speaking here of unconditional friendship—the kind of friendship that transcends the need for ego-strokes, superficial niceties and thin-iced acts of kindness.

Friendships were won or lost on the battlefield of our addiction. Usually lost. After extended periods of chemical abuse, we’d be lucky to be able to count to three fingers when listing those who we retained as true friends. Because—while the true test of deep friendship is to hang in there whatever the shenanigans being perpetrated—we can all handle only so much disappointment and inflicted pain.

In recovery, we learned to distinguish better between our true and our false friends. Between safe friendships and risky friendships. We had to become more positively discriminating in whom we chose to be our friends and whom we needed to cut loose. To still hang with some of our former using buddies could be the equivalent of hanging out in bars. Why play Russian roulette with our sobriety for the sake of some nostalgic—or vicarious—entertainment? Better the brief pain of staying away to the extended pain of a relapse…

Let’s take a moment today then, to look at the state of our current friendships. Who can we count on and feel blessed to have in our lives? Could there be anyone who our gut is warning us to stay away from, despite certain attractions to do otherwise?

Friendship reveals itself in action, but it resides in the heart. So, with the intention to boost our capability for deep friendship, let’s exercise our heart-love muscle with just our breath and our attention:

Sit or lie comfortably. Inhale slowly and put your attention in your heart area. Exhale and reinforce the heart further with your attention. Pause your breath a few moments and feel the glow of your heart. Do a total of twenty to thirty cycles until you feel gently complete.

I breathe into my heart, I listen to its beat, I attend to its beauty and I strengthen its capacity to love others through abiding friendship.

Confidentially Yours

February 22, 2018 By John Du Cane

“Confidentiality is a virtue of the loyal, as loyalty is the virtue of faithfulness.”—Edwin Louis Cole

At one time, we may have lived in a world where we felt it unsafe to share any of our secrets with anyone. Too much was at risk, we thought. We trusted no none—including ourselves. Confidentiality was for the birds… Our loyalty and our faithfulness was only to our drugs of choice, when it came down to it. We would betray others to protect our addiction—and we would assume that our own betrayal was just around the corner.

However, there can be great pain and loneliness when we have no one we trust to confide in. There is great solace in sharing our intimate hopes, fears and dreams with a loyal friend, mentor or loved one. We are finally alone in this world—but the loyal listener can embrace us with their kindness and support, giving us strength to continue when the going gets rough.

Let us not be like an empty chair in an abandoned, dank and dirty cell. Let’s welcome, instead, the round table of confidants, of companions in a living room of soft and colorful beauty.

In our recovery, maintaining confidentiality is vital to our sense of safe growth. To know we have a safe haven in which to share our darkest history and most painful vulnerabilities, is to know we have friends who have our backs. No more knives flashing in the closet, no more excited, whispered betrayals, no more wrenching disloyalties. We create, instead, a climate of trust. Yes, as the frail spirits we all are in certain moments, this trust can sometimes falter, breaches happen. Yet the overwhelming message is one of security, of confidence in each other.

Today, let’s reflect on a secret issue that we may be harboring still—and which could benefit from some friendly light being spilled upon it. And who might we most safely share this with? Great…

Speaking of friendly light, let’s perform an “internal” movement to absorb some healing radiance into our bodies:

Stand, sit or lie in a comfortable position. As you take a long slow inhale, sense that you are drawing this radiant light through every pore of your skin, deep into your body. Before you exhale, feel for any area of your body that seems to be holding some special discomfort. Now, as you exhale, draw all that gathered light, focus on the troubled area, and beam the healing light toward it. Use your attention. The light will follow the direction of your attention. Relax a few moments with your breathing paused. Continue with another nine such breath-and-movement cycles…

I relax into my radiant body and feel content.

Cellular Cravings

February 19, 2018 By John Du Cane

“You don’t want to love—your eternal and abnormal craving is to be loved. You aren’t positive, you’re negative. You absorb, absorb, as if you must fill yourself up with love, because you’ve got a shortage somewhere”—D. H. Lawrence

Do we have a shortage somewhere? A shortage that is creating an insatiable craving for more and more and more and more? Are we yearning for some ineffably deep connection that will finally make us whole? Are we pacing the streets of hope, umbilical cord in hand, looking for a place to plug it in? Such a condition is common to most mankind, but is particularly prevalent in those of us with a propensity to addiction.

In our using days, our cells were afire in a frenzy of unabated craving. Thousands upon thousands of starving creatures teamed within us, it seemed, with an insatiable appetite for the sweet succor of an endorphin hit. And more distressing yet, the more we fed the ravenous crowds of creatures, the more they multiplied within us—until a veritable army of desperados was set to storm the gates.

As we moved into recovery, the debris of the creature wars lay all about us. We, the stunned survivors, could only shake our heads at the severed limbs, the smashed heads, the broken bones, the screams and cries of agony. Fortunately we were now connected to a fellowship that could help us gently and slowly pick up the pieces, clean up the battlefield and start our healing journey.

And also fortunately, help is at hand to start handling our cellular cravings so we can be less easily tipped into a risky neediness. Consistent meditation and movement can initiate a cascade of healing hormones within our bodies. As we regain the capacity to care and love, that care and love given and received initiates further benign cascades. Now the creatures are being fed with foods that don’t inflame them and stress them out. The creatures feel comforted—and at least to some extent—satisfied. We can relax into our beings and live in the moment more easily…

Today, let’s consider recommitting to activities that can have a healing impact on our creatures’ appetite. Let’s look at least one activity, in particular, that we could incorporate into our daily health regimen. And by “health regimen” we are naturally referring to the whole spectrum: body, mind and spirit…

Here’s one possible activity to consider:

Stand with your heels together, feet angled out at 45 degrees, knees slightly bent. Hold the hands at groin level just off the body, palms facing up, in a cup-like position. Inhale as you slowly raise your palms to upper chest level, exhale as you lower your hands back to your starting position.

Further enhance the movement of breath and energy by placing your attention initially at the base of your spine, then running it up to the top of your head on the inhale. On the exhale, run your attention down the front of your body to just below your navel. Do 10 or more repetitions.

I enjoy the feeling of tranquility that comes from calming down my creatures.

Beauty Is An Attitude

February 18, 2018 By John Du Cane

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”—Confucius

Every moment we have a choice: create beauty in the world—or besmirch it with ugliness. We can paint things any way we want to—but this can be a tough realization for many of us to buy into. Taking one hundred percent responsibility for our actions and perceptions takes a steady and determined hand. We falter easily enough, in the face of the blizzards of perceived “ugliness” that seem to blow and howl against us with startling intensity and consistency.

We can speak beauty. We can perceive beauty. We can manufacture beauty. We can attract beauty. We can share beauty. We can ask for beauty. We can have an attitude of beauty. Or not. The irony of our addiction was that our addiction had its origins so much in the yearning for beauty—through ecstatic experiences, transcendent bliss or a kind of frenzied elation. Over time though, as our addiction grew, the quest for beauty devolved into a desperate attempt to maintain even a semblance of sanity. We were seriously out of control—and beauty quickly got tossed into the backseat as we white-knuckled down the freeway.

In recovery, we learned to restore our sense of the beautiful. To restore it within ourselves, to see it in others. We became less likely to chase beauty down, to try grab it and force it. We kiss beauty as it flies past—without attempting to arrest it and jail it. We found that the less we cursed and swore at life, the more life would respond with a smile.

Today, let’s contemplate a person or situation that we currently recoil from. Can there be a way we can transform the perceived ugliness into something of beauty? Even for a few transformative moments?

Let’s practice this attitude of beauty with this simple process:

Sit quietly. Contemplate the object of your distaste. Put your right hand over your heart area. Inhale and draw this perception into your heart area, softening it and lightening it with a sense of appreciation as you do so. Exhale and send the perception back out—hopefully at least somewhat transformed. Repeat this process about twelve times, or until you feel complete. Watch as the object of your distaste gradually loses its power over you…

I set sail on the high seas of beauty—and my heart opens.

The Strength of the Gentle

February 17, 2018 By John Du Cane

“Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.”—Saint Francis de Sales

Life was hard when we were using. Part of why it was hard was the roughness with which we approached almost everything we did. We were rough to others and got roughness back in spades. When gentleness was all we needed, we would shove and bang and bluster and grab. We had little subtlety or delicacy to us. We would muscle our way through situations with scant regard for diplomacy, grace or sensitivity. And, if we ever were gentle, it was usually a phony ploy to soften up our mark before we made our score.

Part of inching into recovery was the revelation that we could often achieve more by a gentle, courteous MO, than we ever managed to pull off in our using days. Harshness, abrasiveness and passive-aggressive posturing surrendered to friendliness, care and supportiveness. And we discovered, to our delight, that such gentleness was reciprocated. Gentleness would shower upon us, just we gave to the world in a gentle manner.

Also to our delight, we discovered that to be gentle did not mean to be weak. Far from it. The more gentle we allowed ourselves to be, the stronger our energy, the stronger our spirit.

Today, let’s reflect on a person with whom we have been less than gentle in the past. Can we now see it in our hearts to make the change—and be gentle where once we were rough?

In the practice of quiet breath, the spirit of the gentle grows—and the blossom opens to the butterfly. We give naturally, we take naturally.

For today, we will sit and simply count our breaths. Let’s focus on our nostrils as we inhale gently and exhale gently without effort. Just be aware of the breath. A good way to enhance this practice is to count the exhalations as they pass out through your nostrils. Count ten breaths, then begin a new cycle of ten. Do as many cycles as feels wonderful to do.

I embrace the spirit of the gentle—and I feel the quiet strength.