Therese Jacobs-Stewart - Mindfulness and the 12 steps: living recovery in the present moment

Mindfulness and the 12 Steps

Hazelden
Center City, Minnesota 55012
hazelden.org

2010 by Thrse Jacobs-Stewart
All rights reserved. Published 2010
Printed in the United States of America

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwisewithout the express written permission of the publisher. Failure to comply with these terms may expose you to legal action and damages for copyright infringement.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Jacobs-Stewart, Thrse.
Mindfulness and the 12 steps / Thrse Jacobs-Stewart.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 978-1-59285-820-0 (softcover)
Ebook ISBN 978-1-59285-987-0
1. Twelve-step programsReligious aspectsBuddhism. 2. Religious lifeBuddhism. 3. Self-help techniques. I. Title. II. Title: Mindfulness and the twelve steps.
BQ4570.T85J33 2010
294.3376229dc22

Editors note
The names, details, and circumstances may have been changed to protect the privacy of those mentioned in this publication.
This publication is not intended as a substitute for the advice of health care professionals.
Alcoholics Anonymous, AA, and the Big Book are registered trademarks of Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc.

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Cover design by Percolator
Interior design and typesetting by Madeline Berglund

Also by Thrse Jacobs-Stewart

Paths Are Made by Walking:
Practical Steps for Attaining Serenity

I dedicate this book to the people who attend the Twelve Steps and Mindfulness meetings at Mind Roads Meditation Center in Saint Paul, Minnesota. We were inspired by the Meditation in Recovery group at San Francisco Zen Center, which in turn rests upon the awakening of countless beings going all the way back to the Buddha. In each moment of the unfolding conversation about recovery and mindfulness, we are supported by them. May wisdom, compassion, and serenity arise in all.

AS A BLIND MAN FEELS
WHEN HE FINDS A PEARL IN THE DUST-BIN,
SO AM I AMAZED BY THE MIRACLE OF AWAKENING
RISING IN MY CONSCIOUSNESS.

From the Bodhicharyavatara by Shantideva

CONTENTS

PREFACE

We meet Monday evenings at Mind Roads Meditation Center in Saint Paul, Minnesota, one chapter in a nationwide community of Twelve Steps and Mindfulness meetings. The room is soft with candlelight, scented by burning incense, and lined with black cushions on the polished oak floor. Our addictions are widespread: drugs, alcohol, food, gambling, cigarettes, or codependency. Everyone is welcome.

We introduce ourselves by going around the circle, saying our first name and Twelve Step affiliation. We have a common interest in meditation practices and how they can inform our recovery from addiction. Each month, we discuss one of the Twelve Steps and how Buddhist thought, meditation, and mindfulness practice can be applied to our life in recovery. We sit in silent meditation together, hear a talk by one of our members, and share our reflections.

As with many Twelve Step meetings, we are a diverse group of people, tall and short, wide and thin, black and white and brown. BMW sedans are parked next to rusty pickup trucks in the parking lot.

Yet we are part of the great stream of beings seeking deeper serenity in our lives, grounded in sobriety by the Twelve Step program, inspired to awaken and live in the present by the practices of mindfulness meditation. In our addictions, we were never here in the moment. We wanted to be gone. Now we are learning to wake up to the joy of being alive.

Once a month for the past five years, I have given a talk to our Monday night group. The following chapters are your virtual seat in our meeting. Please make yourself at home.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The mind, hearts, and energy of many people contributed to the seeding of this book in me and its manifestation in the written form you now hold in your hands.

Bowing in thanksgiving to:

My loved ones, including: Jim, my dearest friend and partner of thirty years, and Cathie and Ted Furman, for their undying enthusiasm and care.

My fellow writers: Lindsay Nielsen, Sue McCauley, Astrid Slungaard, Darla Garvey, and Donna Karis, for their inspiration and invaluable feedback; my editors, Doug Toft and Sid Farrar, for their tremendous skill and the pure pleasure of working with them.

My spiritual advisers: Father Michael Winterer, Sister Mary Sharon Riley, Thrangu Rinpoche, Tenshin-roshi Reb Anderson, and Eijun Linda Ruth Cutts, for their deep wisdom and teachings.

Jenny, Krista, and Olga, for their gracious support and many wonderful cups of chai tea.

May the merits of this book be of benefit to them.

In keeping with the tradition of anonymity and confidentiality in the Twelve Step program, names of people mentioned in this book have been changed, along with details that would identify them.

Joining the Great We

I WOKE UP in the isolation ward.

Doctor Schultz, tall, lean, and wrinkled with time, squinted through thick glasses. When he treated my grandmother, he used to make house calls. Now, he poked and prodded with gloved hands, head to toe in surgical blue, grunting monosyllabic comments.

Whats wrong with me? I asked.

You are very ill.

Can you make me better?

Im trying.

The initial diagnosis was spinal meningitis, and the treatment was several days lying on a bed of ice to lower the 104-degree fever. Later, the diagnosis was revised to a severe case of mononucleosis. The old-school Doctor Schultz never asked if I had run myself into the ground by using drugs, and I didnt whisper a word. Not until week four of the hospital stay did it inkle through my mind, Could it be that I collapsed because of taking all that speed?

The moment of awareness stands still in time. Two years and then some of nearly daily use, popping white crosses and other street junk to keep going, working three jobs to make grades and tuition and rent. I went to a private college I didnt want to go to, kept up a high grade-point average because I had to. My father expected no less. But amphetamines erased all limitations. I could do anything, never had to sleep, was the life of the party. It was marvelous, magnificent, drug-induced bliss.

Doctor Schultz told me to take a semester off from college. He said I had to put some weight back on, get eight hours of sleep every night, and take vitamins. I was burned out at twenty-two years old. I didnt want to stop using, but I was scared of dying. On the other hand, it wasnt exactly like I wanted to live.

My girlfriends guy friend, Skip, went to Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meetings. I asked him what he thought I should do. He said maybe meet up with him at AA sometime; most people stop their drug use before they end up in the hospital for a month, their health in shambles.

I said Id think about it.

I LOVED THAT GOLD CAMARO but the tires were jinxed. They slid on the black ice hidden beneath the snow, bumping the curbside and blowing a tire. The cold weakened the seal, leaking air. Even the new radial tires didnt help. It was the sixth flat tire so far that year, and it was still cold as a bitch. Bummer. If not for that tire, I might have sat in front of the church for a while and then driven away. But I had to go in and ask for help to put on the spare. The bitter windchill made my hands too stiff to manage it alone.