For the wise have always known that no one can make much of his life until self-searching becomes a regular habit, until he is able to admit and accept what he finds, and until he patiently and persistently tries to correct what is wrong.
— TWELVE STEPS AND TWELVE TRADITIONS, p. 88
I have more than enough to handle today, without dragging along yesterday's baggage too. I must balance today's books, if I am to have a chance tomorrow. So I ask myself if I have erred and how I can avoid repeating that particular behavior. Did I hurt anyone, did I help anyone, and why? Some of today is bound to spill over into tomorrow, but most of it need not if I make an honest daily inventory.
"....if I make an honest daily inventory"
That's the missing puzzle piece. That's the "How". How you let go. How you reach radical acceptance. How you start each day as a clean slate and another chance to let God lead the way.
That's the missing puzzle piece. That's the "How". How you let go. How you reach radical acceptance. How you start each day as a clean slate and another chance to let God lead the way.
I've found that the more I practice searching myself for my shortcomings, even when things went well, the easier it is to be honest and humble. Rather than start with what others did poorly or "wrong", I try to start with what I could have done better. Assessing myself with a degree of logic and objectivity is the antidote to ego. I have to step out of my emotion-mind, out of rationalization and sometimes tell myself honestly "I REALLY dropped the ball here. I was too self-seeking. I let fear make that decision for me. I owe him an amends."
I was so afraid this process would erode my confidence, but the cool thing is, my confidence is now real and based on my integrity and my willingness to be honest in all circumstances. My confidence demands humility and honesty. The quicker I own up to my mistakes and the better I treat everyone (especially the ones I DON'T care for), the more quickly my mind is put back at ease and my confidence restored.
Another great (but slow) change in me as a result of this practice is a deep rooted desire to fix myself; not the people I love. I could write a novel about that, but I'll try to keep it succinct. If you really love someone, you accept them as they are. "Fixing" someone is actually a selfish act. You are trying to make them or their lives more acceptable to you. The more time I get in this program, the more my definition of love transforms into something on a much higher plane.
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