My life was defined by one crushing truth: a Lack of Power. This profound absence of control was my dilemma. Drinking was the first revelation of how Powerless I was.
If the problem was the absence of Power, then the solution lay in acquiring it. Even a mere glimmer, a modicum of Power, would be enough to relieve my helplessness.
Why was this lack of Power so destructive? Without Power, I was a slave to thoughtless, instinctive reactions, perpetually reacting to life rather than choosing. My days were a series of automatic responses, devoid of deliberate thought or conscious action. Power was the key to choice.
Drinking was the first Powerless discovery. Coming to AA and working on my history, I saw that I never chose to drink; I simply drank. Finding a small amount of Power to pause before drinking and remembering what had happened before was the bedrock of my early sobriety.
I did not find this Power in my heart. A desire for Power proved ineffective. Simply wanting to control or stop drinking failed, just as mere longing had done nothing to curb my other compulsions—sex, overeating, the relentless extremes of exercise and work, and so on. Wishing would not make it so.
And the solution wasn’t in my mind. Knowing about my problem and intellectually accepting the need for change brought no change. My struggles were undeniably mental, but the path to freedom wasn’t paved with intellect or analysis. Knowing the problem would not make it so.
I found the solution in the most unassuming part of my being. It wasn’t the heart. It wasn’t the head. It wasn’t even my hands, despite their role in so many of my destructive acts.
It was my feet. To be precise, it was the action of my feet.
The initial breakthrough came when my feet carried me to Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meetings. In those early gatherings, a first spiritual awakening within me dissolved the desire to drink and set me on the road to Recovery. Later, after countless meetings, my feet continued their pilgrimage, leading me back to those rooms not for myself, but to offer a hand to newcomers, to stand with alcoholics who desperately needed me. And my feet carried me on 12-Step calls, venturing into the lives of others, extending help where it was needed most. My feet, in their simple, persistent movement, became the solution to my Powerlessness.
From that point on, my feet became instruments of purpose. They carried me to countless places where I could serve, contribute, and truly be of service. They were, and remain, the very embodiment of the Power I found—a Power born not of desire or thought, but of action.
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