Queens Big Book Study – Part 9 – Gary B. – 2008

One of our home group out here on Staten Island a few years back was the Way Out group. And I'm sure Peter may say a few words about that, but we were members together of the same home group. And Peter and I go back a long way, although I don't think Peter remembers when I saw him initially. Yeah, I was going out when Peter went back in. I had a relapse in 87. I think it was 87 that you came in. And I was struggling and trying to get this program by not drinking and just coming to meetings, you know, and going to a lot of meetings, three, four meetings a week for a guy that's relapsing constantly. And it didn't take place. And that happened for me in 94 when a difference took place. And we showed up. Guys from the Common Solution group on Staten Island showed up in Brooklyn at the Old Park West group. And we were sharing. And we were all on fire evangelical, if you will, you know. And Peter happened to be in the audience that night. And he wanted to know where we've been. And. And then he, uh, eventually came on out Staten Island from Brooklyn. And then, uh, from Brooklyn, he's, you know, like moved on to Union. And unfortunately or fortunately, whatever, whichever, you know, like his, uh, home group is on Thursday night and falls on the same night as our home group on Staten Island. So we don't get to see each other as often as we would like. Uh, but, uh, he's a good friend. And, uh, as I mentioned earlier, when I opened up, uh, yesterday, uh, or Friday night, it was, uh, it's always the fellowship of the spirit. We're usually on the phone with each other. And, uh, either I'm hearing from somebody that Peter is, uh, referred over to me or I'm sending somebody over to Union. And, uh, but, uh, he's a good friend and, uh, he's doing God's work and I'll give you Peter. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. My name is Peter. I'm a recovered alcoholic. Great to be alive and sober and part of a sacred place called Alcoholics Anonymous. And, uh, first things first, uh, thank Tom, um, and the rest of the folks who put this together for this conference. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. invitation to me to be here tonight and share with you. Go ahead. I was in Indiana with Gary one time and someone did that and he says, Gary, back home when they sneak up on you, we right away think it's a hit. Who's behind me? I was living in Minnesota. I was taking a walk through a park with a couple of friends and I kept every once in a while, you know how we do it. You're walking in a park. What do you do? You look around once in a while. He says, why do you keep doing it? I said, how come you're not? Just look around. Character's in here tonight. I may be doing it here. Joseph. Thank Tom for having me here and extending an invitation to me. A couple of folks up front. I'd like to just. Share how important they've been to me on this journey and how neat God works when you network in our fellowship. And the more I get out, the closer AA gets. And Gary B has been kind enough to take my phone call every Wednesday night at seven o'clock and listen to me read inventory to him and steer me and direct me with all the great years of experience he's had. And there's my friend Tom Yule here with his lovely wife. Juanita. And what a gift to have those folks. I can call them my friends in our paths of cross. I've been out to his group about a year or so ago. Give a little talk out there. And Santa Fe says a Santa Fe. Absolutely touched by the Lord. The grounds out there. Absolutely beautiful. Gentlemen, Mickey's here tonight. I was in Colorado to give a talk about five years ago or so. And I had just started working with this religious practice. And I was brand new to it. Somehow I got moved to work with this practice. And I was new. And I really felt it to do it. And I don't deny spirit. And there was something about what I was doing with this afternoon practice that I still work with. And it was a Saturday night. The keynote speaker had gotten done. And the lobby was packed with a few hundred people. I didn't know Mickey was going to get together with Tom and a few others and do this practice in the back room. And I have all the people. He said, hey, Pete, would you be interested in participating with us? And I said, okay, God, I got it. And we went into this room and we did this practice. And I remember I was new in it. And Tom was kind of coaching me through because I was stumbling a little bit. And then we got done with this. And they had this little garden kind of between the two meeting rooms. It's really hot. Like a little garden on the outside. And the spirit said, go out and give thanks. And I went out. I looked up. I said, Father, thank you for this experience. Because you guys have no idea how powerful that was for me. Because to me, I was looking at you guys as my elders. And I was privileged to sit in with this. And I gave prayer of thanks. And as I was sharing with your wife, I don't remember the rest of the night. You know, those experiences where you can't really remember what happened. And the next morning, they put me in front of a podium. And I got to give a talk at Fellowship of the Spirit in Colorado. It's one of the many bright spots in my life that I've gotten to experience. God doing for me what I can never do for myself. Anytime I try to select friends when I was out there. Oh, my Lord. They're all probably dead or in jail now. Anytime I try to select friends. Anytime my life is not one of invitation. It's always fear-based. And I'm always insecure. Because I'm selecting you because I want something from you. I need something from you. You've got to give me something. But I go on an invitation to Colorado. And God, these people invite me into their life. And God sends me out. I'm on an invitation. And it's not fear-based. It's not insecure. Acceptance of me. Acceptance of them. We commence shoulder to shoulder upon a common journey. That's why my life now is one of invitation. My life has been brought to one of invitation. In Alcoholics Anonymous. Outside of Alcoholics Anonymous. Whether I'm in AA or outside of AA, there is no more duality. It's all the same movement. And whether I'm working or playing, you can't tell the difference. I don't know the difference any longer because it's all the same movement. It's no longer one of duality. And my sense of self is not made up of what my thinking mind tells me. That if I get this, I'm going to be right. Pick those type of friends because you'll be a better guy. I wait for invitation. And so I suit up and show up and off I go. With all the life's dramas, life being problematic as it is, with all the external things, kind of things come, things go. We live in a world of impermanence. She shows up, she leaves. Job shows up, it leaves. Money shows up, it leaves. And God is always present. What was there before my heart took its first beat, be there long after my heart takes its last beat, it's always present. Silence is always present. My life is one of silence. Silence and invitation. One of surrender. A daily surrender to everything that's around me. With no motives. Freedom. Freedom from bondage. When our third step talks about freedom from bondage of self, well, what does self look like? Well, the manifestations of self, every area of self, getting wrapped up in other things and more bondage. Got the job, now I got to keep this job or else. Got the promotion, need another promotion. And then we start being a little dishonest, a little deceitful, and we start to do this maze to get to that place and we get there and we got to acquire more. And then I have that. Inner outer riches and inner poverty. But God is always present and my life has been brought to that place. I've shared this many times. All the work I've gotten to do over the last 20 years, all the work I've gotten to do, all the fellowship I got to do, all the traveling I get to do, all the great things in working with others, all of it, my big book, all of it has brought me to silence. Talking with Bill on the phone last week or two weeks ago, about practicing silence in my own home. Don't need the TV on, don't need the radio on. Don't need to be doing anything in the backyard, don't need to be doing anything. But first experience in silence, then I go do those things. Go out in the backyard, go for a walk in silence. All of it's brought me to silence. No more noise, no more needing noise. Doing a workshop out in New Jersey, and I always like to do this with the workshop is get to the podium and say nothing for a few minutes. A few minutes. And people start to shift and get uncomfortable. Oh my God, he forgot what to say. Some say I'm glad he's not talking because I don't like this guy. But it's interesting how uncomfortable we are with silence, and yet it's the thing that's always present like God is. Hear it? And then we do things to interrupt the silence. But it's always present. And I can experience that oneness with this power all the time. The only thing that's gotten in the way is me and my manifestations of self and my attachments to external conditions, pomp, calamity, worship of other things, whatever it may be, has gotten in the way of me and this power. And the neat thing about our 12 steps, it goes right into that and starts to remove everything that's in the way of me and experiencing this power called God. That's why I don't get why some of our meetings don't offer that. But let's just go talk for an hour. And I walk away with more problems than I did before I walked in. All right? So I'm grateful with all the challenges that I'm currently experiencing where my Heavenly Father has brought me to, continually reworking the steps, being in a place of being able to call on a Wednesday night to Gary and say, Gary, here's what's going on. I'm not really sure what to do about this. I speak to another dear friend, Joe, and I'll share some things with him. And I have gentlemen calling me with him in turn. And I offer my experience. I share strength and hope. What a great way to live. I get to do these things. It's brought me to this place of silence, of presence, of surrender, of invitation. My home group is called the Vision for You group. We meet Thursday nights in Union, New Jersey. And we're a group that talks about, offers a solution to recover from alcoholism. I said I'm a recovered alcoholic. It's because God has brought me to His infinite mercy, recovered from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body, recovered from a lot of the isms that accompany alcoholism, but presence. I'm one of the founding members of a Vision for You group, and that really came out of a resentment in a coffee pot, no great deeds by me. I moved from Staten Island. I was a member of the Way Out group, moved out to Union and was looking for a meeting and started sharing at some meetings. And soon they said, don't call on that guy. Whatever you do. We got real comfortable out here. Don't call on him. So I was working with another gentleman at the time, and I says, here's my deal. Here's my invitation. I start a group. He said, go ahead, go. So a few of us got together, and we started a Vision for You group. And we thought we would last about six months, because in about six months, they were saying they were calling us that group, those people, and stay away from PM. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. We're still there. And it's a few years since we've started this group. And when we numbered about 10 or 11 people, we're doing about 30, 40 people down there. I'm down there at 6 o'clock for a 730 meeting. So are some others. And the prospect, the sponsor has a prospect who has a prospect. A lot like the Way Out group. Used to go to the Way Out group, get there two hours earlier. Somebody was working with somebody. It was great. And when the meeting was over, no one ran for the car. There's fellowshipping. Kind of. That's not what Julie was talking about earlier. It's one of the bright spots of my life on a Thursday night. Great stuff. God separated me from alcohol June 23, 1988. I'm very grateful for this. My separation from alcohol was not a pleasant one. It wasn't a thing I volunteered to do. It wasn't a thing I decided to do one day. And I didn't put the plug in a jug and make a decision or a choice to not drink that day. I was separated by a loving God from alcohol. And the separation from alcohol was violent and ugly. It came in the back of a filthy, dingy hallway on the low reef side of Manhattan. And that day of June 23, 1988, I was not thinking about Alcoholics Anonymous. I was not thinking about experiencing the glory of God. I was not thinking about finding a sponsor or living in all three sides of the triangle. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. And June 23, 1988, it was the first time in my life. And I've shared this story many times. I've reflected upon this in Alcoholics Anonymous. It was the first time in my life I did not want to die. That was it. God, if you're out there with a few choice words, I don't want to die. That came to me in a moment of clarity. June 23, 1988. I hadn't bathed for, I don't know how long. I had been homeless for too long. My God was a Mr. Boston Blackberry Brandy. And I would go to any lengths to keep it going because the body needed it. In the back of this hallway, something happened where I had a feeling in my mind that the next day I was going to die if I picked up a drink. I had a feeling that moved me to a place of I'm probably going to die if I take one more drink that I may not even make it to the next. And I was like, I'm going to die. And it was the first time I got frightened with that. I tried purposely eating a bottle, what was left of a bottle of pills and wash it down with Jack Daniels. I got into bed and waited to die because I welcomed the idea, as Bill Wilson says, because living this life was way too painful. Try that several times. And I welcomed it. This one particular day, I didn't want it anymore. And God, in his infinite mercy, heard the sincere plea from me. Now, God doesn't need to go get us in some decorative palace, some fancy meeting on Park Avenue, some fancy meeting at some place in New Jersey. Because none of that matters to my God, except for one of his children in trouble makes a plea for help. He goes and gets him. And my heavenly father showed up in the back of this just just sort of spot in lower Manhattan and got me out of there. Enough. And I had other work for you to do is the words. I heard. I didn't know what was meant by that. I know now I've gotten real clear on my purpose in life. And that particular day, I moved out of that hallway and I could think of one thing called dad, the only guy on this entire planet who's going to come and get me in this condition. I look like a Bowery bum and I was dying. If I live to be 100, I'll never be as old as they walked into Alcoholics Anonymous in 1988. Called my dad. And I remember going to pay phones, had no money. I had to call and collect and I would pick up the phone and I had these crying jacks. Oh, my God, I can't hang up the phone. Next phone. Do the same thing again. And then something came to me like if I was to call him and get him and he came to get me and saw me in the condition I was living in, I would break his heart for sure this time. And I couldn't do that to him. I was given a seat of compassion. When I was active like that, I had no compassion. It was go to any lengths to get the next drink. Worry about the stuff later. Worry about hurting you later. We'll deal with you later. Right now, I need alcohol. My dad was in Atlantic City this particular day. He was gambling with his wife. And he had a feeling while he was gambling that I was in trouble. Now, we had lost contact. My dad said, don't come back. What a broken heart. But he had to protect my two younger brothers from me. And what I was bringing home. And my dad was in Atlantic City. He had a feeling that I was in trouble. And he told me the story at my first A.A. birthday. And he told his wife, he said, I have to go get my son. He's in trouble. And she thought like a lunacy commission should be appointed for him. We're in Atlantic City. He's somewhere in Brooklyn or Manhattan. And off he went. This is a guy who would drive through Red Hook, Brooklyn. You guys know that area. Red Hook Project, right? With the photo of me with my uncle. And tell the winos and the junkies, where is he? Here's 20 bucks. Tell me where he is, my son. You tell me alcoholism doesn't affect those we come in contact with. You tell me that years of living with an alcoholic doesn't make any wife or child neurotic. You tell me that just coming to A.A. meetings and not drinking is enough and that those other people can do what they have to do because A.A. is a selfish program. I will be the first one online to challenge you. Because A.A. is a selfish program. Because we level people on the way in here. We're like tornadoes roaring to the lives of others. I was. Leveled everything that came in contact with me. And they suffered from my alcoholism. When Julie was talking about waiting by the window, my dad is a pretty much of a tough guy, a street guy, would wait for me. Wait. When's he coming? I'd see him at the window and say, oh, no. He's still up. He didn't make out he was sleeping. He waited for me to get in there. And he would say, Kimmy, I want to talk to you. And I'd rather face a firing squad. You know, my kid brothers would wait up with him. My grandparents would worry about me. That's what alcoholism does. So I think our Al-Anon members are here tonight for the great works you do in your fellowship. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. My dad makes his way back from Atlantic City and finds me somewhere in Brooklyn, running through the streets with the same clothes on, bloodstained pants, soiled pants. I look like the part of someone who's about to die of addiction. And he got out of his car. He crossed the street. He didn't scream my name. He just called my name. God gave him a spirit and a deportment to meet me exactly where I was. My dad's a tough guy. And usually he'll approach you in a tough way. I probably would have ran. If he would have been a little bit sheepish about it, I probably would have lied and ran circles around that. You know, I feel like I can manipulate this. Just get some money out of it and run. But he met me. Perfect. As God would have it. And I remember saying to Adam, okay, and then collapsed in his arms and off to my seventh and God-willing last treatment center. That came out of a willingness to get well, a willingness not to die anymore, a must. And the seed of willingness was about to move him out. And the mustard seed of willingness was given to me by a loving God that was going to produce the spiritual experience. Let me share this with you. Many of us think that the spiritual experience has happened or will begin when we go through the 12 steps. And for some of us, that's true. We come here flatline. We open up a book with a sponsor and something starts to happen. But let me offer you this, what has happened to me. The spiritual experience began in the worst moment of my life in the back of a hallway on a Lower East Side. With a willingness, I didn't want to die. And a willingness to do something different to get well was given to me. That was the beginning of the spiritual experience. And on that spirit of willingness, off I go to my seventh and God-willing last treatment center. On that spirit of willingness, I seek out, I move to seek out these folks who were in front of me with the big book talking about the greatness of God and Alcoholics Anonymous. And they invited me into their homes and I saw how they lived. And when they got to a podium, they weren't dressed like they're about to go commit a felony. They gave AA the respect and love it deserves. And they always spent time with people and they were living this. And I wanted what they had desperately. And little by slowly, I was put back together again. I wasn't thinking about any of that June 23rd, 1988. And over the years, I will tell you, little by slowly, I've been able to put the pieces back in my family together again. And I will say this one thing. I didn't even know that we were going to get married. My life resembles nothing like now like it did in 1988. My perceptions of life have changed. What's going on within me has changed. The way I look has changed. My belief systems have been removed to make room to experience God. June 23rd, 1988. 1988, I wanted to no longer die and God gave me a mustard seed of willingness to proceed. And I've been moved to a place now that I never thought would ever happen. Giving talks and working with others, spending time with others and walking them through the steps. Are you kidding me? Taking a phone call at 11 o'clock at night and someone's on a ledge ready to go and somehow God gives me enough to pull them in and walk them through a dark night. And ignite a flame of hope. That's what we get to do in Alcoholics Anonymous. I've said it a million times from these podiums that Alcoholics Anonymous is a sacred place. And if you have not found out that Alcoholics Anonymous or our Al-Anon rooms are sacred places, please stick around to find out that they are because they are. Because what I have seen with my own eyes is how people get resurrected and reborn in Alcoholics Anonymous. And how that happens is not by acquiring things, not by going, not by going somewhere. Our book says may you find him now, meaning find God. We don't have to Google in God. Get MapQuest and head on the expressway. Where's God? All of it points to removal of everything and we simply go home. We go back to where God put us in the first place. And that is uncomfortable, drastic and revolutionary, and sometimes incredibly painful because we're taking a sledgehammer to self. No self, no more problem. And that's what the book does. Remove self. And what we're left with is spirit. We walk around in these outfits that we wear and the things that God gave us, but what is left is spirit in its purest form. That's what we get in Alcoholics Anonymous. How many of our meetings are talking about that? Or are we visiting column two meetings all day long? Took a little while. Is this on? Jesus. Jesus. We come here and we see people getting well. At my home group, I see people working with people that I sponsored showed up at my door and other members also. Completely flatline broken. Okay. And then they start going through the steps. And then they complete their fourth step. And then they're into completing their remains that they're aware of. And then they're in 10 and 11 and 12. And then they have their prospect. And they're there early with the prospect. And you see that person wake up and them offering their number, sitting down with someone before the meeting. Because the ground is getting fertile for new prospects for them. And the neat thing about what happens to many of us who get recovered is that, thinking about a drink is removed from the equation because God has greater works for us to do. Not spending time in a meeting or thinking about, hey, I have a drink single, have a drink issue. I can't go there. Could drink it. I can't go there. Cause drinking. I can't go. In fact, let me just stay home. Leave me alone. I'm an alcoholic. I have issues. It's you. It's you. But we get these spiritual wings and we go fly. And as I was saying earlier, the spiritual experience can begin in the most sordid moment of our life. When? When? When newcomers come to me or my group and I know the look. There's nothing going on in the eyes. They've been leveled by alcoholism. I don't care what they're wearing. Sometimes they try to, you know, front and look real good. You talk to them five minutes and they're dying. That's a great thing. I let them know. The only way is up. And they've been open enough to receive some of this information because they would not be there in the first place. When? Those of us who attend these big work workshops or show up to a sponsor's door, a potential sponsor's door, or even show up to a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. What we've done is we're looking to die. We're looking to experience the death of self before the physical death. It goes like this. I can't take it anymore. Can you help me? What I've been doing to me, if it was anyone else, I'd probably kill them. Please help me get away from me. And that's what our book allows us to do. By removal of self and simply go home and experience the abundance of God. My first dream came when I was about 14 years old. I grew up over in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Like you didn't know, by the way, I spoke, right? The only requirement for membership there is a pinky ring, sunglasses and gold jewelry for some of you tourists. I was telling Mickey earlier that I did. I had a meeting in Brooklyn back in the summer and the neighborhood. I was ducking for bullets on the way in just in case. Pinky ring, sunglasses and gold jewelry. The guys I got sober with at the Free Spirit Group on 18th Avenue and 84th Street in Brooklyn. Those are guys who changed how it works into how you're doing, by the way. But my first drunk, I remember, I was on the corner of the street, corner of 73rd Street and 20th Avenue. And there was a church having a feast and these guys were drinking cold 45 beer and me being me driven by a hundred forms of fear. Wherever I went there, I was. I had the thinking mind always talking to me. It was never pleasant. Right. How many of us have the thinking mind now while we're sitting here at this meeting? How many of us are going up to a room alone? But if you look around, there's about 48 other people in a room with you. Right. And I'm thinking, the thinking mind with all the voices. You should do this. You better not do that. You should do this. You'll never make it. It's just nonstop. And I try to entertain all of them at the same time. Right. I love to use the example. Like if all you guys start talking to me at the same time, asking questions, making comments. And I tried to get to every one of you in a matter of two minutes. You would say, you're crazy. How many of us are actually doing that during the day? How many are doing it right now? You know, you have to go down. You have to go down to like maybe certain neighborhoods where you have these less fortunate folks who were just kind of rambling out loud, talking to someone. We do the same thing. They're just letting you know who they're talking to. Right. But there I was 14 years old, drinking cold 45 beer. And my friends were drinking beer. And I was really fearful about putting my hand in and taking a few pops off the court because I had many certain warnings from my friends. And I was like, you know, my dad, if I ever catch you drinking on the corner, don't bring any of those girls around this house. Those are not the type of woman you want to associate with and date. And very stern, clear cut warnings. My dad makes Tony Soprano look like Tinkerbell. I mean, and, and I listened except for this one night. And I remember the court went around and I put my hand in there and I took a few pops and it went down and nothing happened. I drank and I drank and I drank. And then something happened to me that was indescribably wonderful. You know, that, that feeling that everything is just great. I'm great. You're great. You know, the girls got really pretty, you know, uh, they thought I was really good looking. Um, I got beer muscles. I was dirty. Harry and Beretta rolled into one in one night, you know, and I remember all the good things that happened at night. The music got better. The neighborhood got better. I had great plans on what I was going to do. I'm hanging out with the older guys. They were 17. I'm 14. I'm hanging out with the older guys. Now this was a good deal. And I remember going into the park the next morning. And as I walked into this park to play basketball, I will tell you, my shoulders were about out to here. I had a story. Got my stripes the night before. When Bill says I had arrived, I arrived Saturday night. This was a great thing. I had a panacea for my ills. I had something that allow me to deal with the rest of the work and the fear driven me. I had something that would work. We call beer cause I'm going to drink it. Get out there. No fear. About six months prior to this first drunk, I lost my mom to this illness. She was one of us. And after several attempts are trying to take a life, she finally succeeded. Most awful thing I've ever experienced. I've been beat up and arrested lots of times. It was leveled me completely. My design for living was taken from me. I had no idea what to do. Left with a guy who's cunning, baffling and powerful. I call him dad. Where's mom? I'm lost. I want nothing to do with God. I don't want anything to do with this cruel. God took mom. Got drunk Saturday night. All of that was removed. Fear of police. Fear of my dad. Fear of me being me wherever I was there. I was removed. The pain of losing. Mom, I was present to the moment. Beer worked. Alcohol worked on me for many years. It worked. I drink. I get there. Everything's good. Give me more. I knew nothing about the phenomenon called craving. Drink alcohol, body craves more alcohol. Craves is intensified. Never satisfied. Mental obsession. Mind taking me back to that, which is going to kill me over and over and over again. Pretty up a junk out if it has to get me back. Getting in terrible trouble on Monday, Tuesday. My mind says, it wasn't that bad. Don't worry about it. Hang out with different people. Go to different places. You can do it because you're you. Right? And right back to the same vicious cycle. And then I had this thing called a spiritual malady. And I knew nothing about a spiritual malady. I knew nothing about what alcoholism is. Watched my mom die from this stuff. But she was sick. We don't have alcoholism in my family. That's something for people on the Bowery. All this pain was removed on the first drunk. And off I went to recapture that elusive feeling for many, many years. And my drinking assumed more serious proportions, as Bill says in his story. Saturday became Friday and Saturday. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. And the consequences started to escalate. And I was bringing my family, dragging my family on this horrific ride. They weren't volunteering for this. But my two younger brothers, my two younger brothers, my two younger brothers, and my two older brothers were watching their older brother, who they felt safe around all the time and idolized to some degree, watch me go off a cliff. My dad was watching his older son go off a cliff. My family was watching this and tried everything possible to not make it happen. Control, stern warnings, ignoring, raising the bar, trying to raise the bottom, everything possible. And they were all in the same boat. They were all in the same boat. They were all in the same boat. Always in fear. All the time. Giving me money, denying me money. Throwing me out, taking me back in. Screaming and hollering. Threats. You name it, they tried it. Guess what? I kept getting drunk. And I would look my dad dead in the eye and say, Dad, this will never happen again. I swear to you. Look at my brother and say, I swear. I'm done. I swear. Take an oath. What was it like this? See, I don't even know. What an alcoholic. By the way, Julie, you said you love rules. I couldn't think. She loves rules and married an alcoholic. But my family was suffering from all of this. We moved from Brooklyn out to Staten Island. And the pain of my mom was still present until I got loaded. This guy called dad who was always fearful of was always there until I got loaded. And watching what I was starting to do with my kid brothers and how they were becoming fearful of me and not so sure about me anymore. It felt like they were walking on eggshells around me was removed when I got loaded. And I was getting loaded a lot more. And the craving was always there. I need to drink some more. And then what I start to do was what we do. And we need money still from people who love us. My family would feel really safe with money and jewelry in the house, but not with me in it. And I start to take things that didn't belong to me. My drinking assumed more serious proportions. Bill says in his story, there were many unhappy scenes in my sumptuous apartment. There were wars being started in my house by a loving family. One of the things that started to happen was not only my dad and my younger brothers coming at me and me going at them, but they were starting to fight with each other. It was a cancer. It was spreading. That's alcoholism. My family. It's going off the cliff. When God separated me, June 23rd, 1988, my family was suffering from full-blown alcoholism. And they're not alcoholic. Do you see the arrogance and the narrow-mindedness and the self-absorption of saying, I didn't drink today and I'm a winner? Let's go knock on the doors to mom and dad and husband and wife and the children and say, Hey, is that enough? They're probably grateful we're not drinking, but it's not enough. I'm sure some of them will say he was nice. So she was nice when they were drinking since he went to a eight or lunatic. And they're always at meetings. They're never home anymore. My family was suffering from full-blown alcoholism. I was getting on a plane, getting out of my seven treatment center. And I went from Long Island, New York. They were shipping me out to Minnesota. One of the greatest things that happened to me going to Minnesota. And I remember feeling full of shame and remorse and guilt. And self-loathing. I just couldn't take me anymore. And I was going from Newark Airport out to Minnesota. And it was pre-9-11. So the families could walk pretty far with you. And in this feeling that I was experiencing, I moved to turn back and look at my dad and my kid brothers. My dad was fighting back tears. And my kid brother couldn't. Please get better is what he said to me. And I realized, at that moment, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the level of damage I had caused them was that great. I knew what I did for sure now. When I saw them in that condition, they were completely level. They were empty. They were crumbling. And I remember getting on the plane. And God, if you're out there, please, I'll do anything to give back to them. There were many times on my journey, drinking binges. I just wish I would die. Save everyone else for the misery. There's a motel not too far from where we are, on the other side of the Boulevard. And I remember being up there and, you know, just getting what was up. I went to rob this girlfriend, went to rob her purse. Instead of taking the money, I found a half a bottle of pills and ate them and washed it down with Jack Daniels. The courage to do battle was not that one. I didn't want to live anymore. That's what alcoholics do when we're in that place. We want to die. We're taking people with us. But dying looks like a good way to go. When my mom took our life, I thought that was weak and cowardly. When I was laid up in this fleabag motel and taking my life looked like a good way to go, I realized it was not weak and cowardly. It was called alcoholism. Knew nothing about this the first time I got loaded. As my drinking got progressively worse, I got into my first treatment center. Things were missing from my house. I wasn't coming home. And my dad came looking for me and found me in lower Manhattan, right by the Brooklyn Bridge, and jumped out of the car, screamed my name. I was in the car with this girlfriend. And when I saw him marching across the street, I got out of the car, told her, you deal with him, I'm leaving. And off to my first treatment center I went. And I did 28 days in treatment. Back then, 28 days was, you know, yeah, 28 days, that was the remedy. 28 days. Talk about your issues, your triggers, your feelings, and dysfunctional family, and get well. And that's what I did. And I got sicker on the way out than on the way in. And I did 28 days and did push-ups and sit-ups. They took me to gym and did all those things, group therapy. Had a girlfriend meet me at the door, brought up a jug before I got to Long Island Railroad, off I was. Quiet about a meeting in lower Manhattan, drinking. Got a job as a longshoreman on the Brooklyn waterfront. Not the training ground for spiritual growth. And there I was. I was a young kid starting out on the waterfront and learned quick where I can get money and how to get money. And I got into my second treatment center and third treatment center and fourth treatment center and I started to borrow money from people I shouldn't be able to get. And I started to borrow money from people I shouldn't be able to get. And I started to borrow money from people I shouldn't be able to get. from people I shouldn't be able to get. My dad would get me out of scrape after scrape after scrape. I became a really good thief. Anything that wasn't nailed down was coming with me to hustle to get some money. And my dad, who had this impeccable reputation in this industry, was experiencing shame, bewilderment, despair, fear, because of my alcoholism was now owning him. My dad walked with his head up high every time he walked into work and he wasn't looking like that anymore. Because he'd have a line of guys saying, your son borrowed money, disappeared. Your son borrowed money, disappeared. There's people looking for him. There's stuff missing. I don't get, just don't drink and go to meetings. I don't get it. I do get, getting this information, this glorious message that's laid out in a big book, waking up, and once we wake up, you know what? Spirit almost compels us to go back and fix it. You can't stay away from that. Being a servant of God, being a servant of others, and giving back freely with no expectations, no attachments, not looking for an applause, not even have to share it with anyone in AA and look for applause. You need to get those nine-step guys, I made amends, where's my applause? Don't even have to do that. Call up the sponsor, just made amends, great, keep moving. That's all it needs to know. God's watching, God's waking my spirit up. When we wake up, we move to go back and do that. How could we not want to heal? Got an apartment in Brooklyn, right around my fifth treatment center, and I brought like the Bowery into this nice little studio apartment. It looked like the Bowery. It was a horror show. I wasn't bathing anymore. My bed was soiled and bloodied, and I had Mr. Boston, which I was drinking for years now, Mr. Boston Blackberry Brandy's all over, bottles all over. Got some dry goods into my life, and what was left of that was scattered. It was scattered all over the place. Dishes weren't being washed. Clothes wasn't being laundered. I wasn't bathing. There was no sheets and pillowcases and comforters and a nice clean mattress, like when I get home tonight. None of that going on. Just drink, pass out, come to, start it again. I'm like a robot, compelled to use. This is the first step in recovery. Step one tells us, you'll hear this in meetings, well, I can't drink. That's what step one says. No, step one says, you're drinking, compelled to drink, and no one or no thing is going to stop it, except God. Have I gotten to that place of a daily surrender with all areas of my life? Or have I thought, am I thinking now because I'm in AX amount of years that somehow I can manage my life because I'm in double digits? I know what to do, God. Just don't tell my sponsor. I know. Went into treatment for nine weeks. My fifth treatment center. Spent nine weeks in this treatment center physically separated from alcohol. On the way into this treatment center, I swore on everything holy, like I did the first time I got arrested, the fifth time I got arrested, the first and third and fourth and fifth time I got thrown out of my house. I swore again on everything holy it was going to stop. I'm done. And I had a powerful desire not to drink. I made a resolution not to drink. I'm going to change the people, places and things. I'm going to do this. No human power could relieve me of my alcoholism. I didn't know I'm a human power. My AA meeting is a human power. She is a human power. Dad and my brothers are human powers. And no matter how much they mean to me, they can't keep me sober. Step one says, Pete Marinelli, you're drinking unless you get power. Get discharged on a Saturday after nine weeks in treatment and Monday I'm drunk again. And my family really thought that something more was needed than just going into treatment. There's something wrong with you. And they were saying with broken hearts, it wasn't like a sarcastic, hey, there's something wrong with you. There's something wrong with you. It's maybe because mom died. Maybe I didn't do this right. Maybe I should have done, this is my dad. I should have done this better. My brother's thinking I should have done, see, they're walking around with my stuff. Guilt and remorse. If we would have only said, I love you a little more, Pete wouldn't be the way he is. That's not the case. I'm alcoholic. And I couldn't stop it. There were times when I would weep myself to sleep saying I can't take it anymore. I want to die because I knew the drink was, it was killing me. And I knew what I was doing to others. And I got to a place where the consequences of my behavior were pushed in the backseat. And I knew I was hurting people. Didn't matter anymore. And I was just blind, drunk. Get the next one, get the next one, get the next one, get the next one. I didn't drink, I would get really ill. Wound up in my sixth treatment center and I spent about a day and a half in my sixth treatment center. And I signed myself out because the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain of being in there, going through another withdrawal and the obsession to use was so overpowering, it pulled me right out and I signed myself out. And counselors told me, you're going to die. Don't leave. How many times we've been told that? You're going to kill yourself, you're going to die and off we go. It wasn't until I was on my way into my seventh treatment center that something happened for me. There was a shift, an internal shift within here where I was able to get like God's eyes for a moment, just for a brief moment and outside the Port Authority in Midtown Manhattan, I had those moments of clarity that we get where we're struck sober, even if we're blind drunk, there's a moment where, oh my God, look at me, look at my life. And I had that on the 9th Avenue side of the Port Authority. And I thought of my mom and my dad and reflected on my life in this brief moment. I don't know how long it was, but it seemed fleeting, but there I was, struck sober, and then I cursed God. Hated God. Coming to Alcoholics Anonymous, I wasn't exactly a go-get-God kind of person. I was still, you know, going to God with the belief systems and prejudices that I was brought up with. They had to be let go. There was a payoff to some of that too. A lot of us say, I don't want to get rid of my defects. I mean, we want to get rid of our defects, no we don't. There's a payoff to having them. This is why I am the way I am. You should know my life story. Well, it was a payoff to me hating God. If this happened to you, you'd hate God and you'd drink too. Feel sorry for me. Give me money. Right? Tell somebody your tale's a woe, you want a friend or a couple of bucks. I wound up in another hallway. I don't remember what happened after that moment, but I wound up in another hallway, the hallway I opened this talk with. And there I was, completely leveled, broken, and there was nothing left. Didn't know it was the beginning of this new life and God was about to give me spiritual wings. In the moment of this scrappy being about to be raised to a level of life better than the best, I was like, oh, my God, I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I've never known, and that's exactly what happened because off I went to the Seventh Treatment Center and things started to happen for me. When I got to Minnesota, I was about 10 days in this place in Long Island and the insidious insanity of the first drink was coming back after all I just left. Pete, let's get out of here. Just one more. Settle down the nerves. Settle your stomach down because I was always sick all the time. Then we'll go and talk about our dysfunctional family, our triggers and our rituals. We'll talk. We'll be good group members. Just let's get a drink in us and figure it out. They shipped me off to Minnesota and I was brought to a meeting out there called the Three Legacies Meeting. And people, the speakers, the speaker meeting, about 300 people would get to the podium dressed. Women wore suits. Men wore suits. They had a big book at the podium and they talked about the transformation they experienced, what it was like, what happened, where they were currently. And they not only talked about the transformation, they brought me into their homes and I saw the way they lived with all the challenges they were experiencing, going through it sober, with dignity and God being a central factor of their life, not something they were giving lip service to. This sacred place called Alcoholics Anonymous was being put right in front of my eyes. I couldn't deny it. My eyes were seen. I couldn't deny it. My ears were hearing. Spirit opened me up enough to say, pay attention. This is yours also. I was given a little bit of hope here. And you guys just turned up the flame. I was brought home to the free spirit group and my first appointed teacher showed up in my life and he was not the type of teacher I was looking for. He was rough. He didn't care about his language. He wasn't in a popularity contest. His mission was to help me wake up. That's all he cared about, working with others. He wasn't looking to get in front of a podium. He wasn't looking to, you know, he didn't care who he got annoyed. He wasn't looking for warm fuzzies. You want help? I will help you. I don't care if you get pissed off at me. Tell me. Tom remembers my first sponsor. Bulldog. What a heart the size of Texas. And when I met him, he was on fire. And he told me, this is what I expect from you. And if you don't find someone else, I was okay. Where do I sign up? I watched the guy who talked about God, laughed all the time and was dead serious about the importance of God. And he said, I want to be a part of the influence of working with others. Made meetings, lots of meetings. I want what he had to offer. And I work with that man a little by slowly. My life, the pieces of the puzzle being put back together and I start to experience some dignity, some inner peace, some contentment. I worked with that man for a long time and then a new teacher was put in my life and I began a new approach to this work, going through the steps over and over. Revisiting steps for new experience, a deeper experience with this power called God. Being brought to levels of consciousness I never experienced before. Never thought about experiencing before. And I get to do it. We get to do it. Don't have to, don't need to, we get to. Get to write inventory, get to work with a sponsor, get to work with a newcomer, get to show up here. We get to do this because all of it's an opportunity from my Heavenly Father to continue on this path to freedom. We get to do it. And God has rewarded me openly and I go see Him in silence. I go see Him in private, all alone, just me and my Heavenly Father, three times a day, in prayer, in meditation. And I give thanks to Him. I offer some words and then I go silent, into the sacred silence and I wait. God, you guide me. Sometimes I'm confused. Sometimes I ask questions. Sometimes I work with things and then I just go silent and wait. I wait at the altar, I wait. Like I wait at AA at the door for the new person, I wait for my God. And He talks in silence and I hear the language. Sometimes it's from you, sometimes it's a movement, but I wait. And that power has moved me through a very difficult time in my life when I, in 20 minutes, I was getting divorced, lost my job and I was bankrupt. What happened to my life? And God was with me when there was abundance of external things. And God was with me when that abundance diminished and it was nothing. I'd been in a place in Alcoholics Anonymous where I had, and I'm not giving a slip service, zero money. Zero. Zero money. Marriage ended, took everything, I was left with zero. Where do I go now? Frightening feeling. One place to go. God, I remember saying it, I am done running my life again in Alcoholics Anonymous. I am done. I'm done. And out of that wreckage, I was reborn again. I'm experiencing current challenges, current joys. And my Heavenly Father continues to reward me openly. And for the sake of time, I will just tell you this. I had questions about things that have happened to me before I got drunk and after I got sober. And I've gone to God. I've asked the questions and waited. And we plowed a field and God will do the growing. And I kept plowing the field. My sponsor has a great expression. One of my sponsors would say, chop wood, carry water. Chop wood, carry water. Chop wood, carry water. Be the laborer. God needs laborers. The harvest is plenty. Laborers are few. Be a laborer. That's what I would do. And then in the silence, God gives me, things. God gives me information that leads to me reconciling many things from the past that I thought weren't reconcilable. Things with my mom, things with my dad, things with me about my life. Some of them were vivid and clear. Some of them were very tangible. Candle experiences, experiences in downtown Brooklyn, experiences right in my own home, experiences I was in doing a workshop in Florida. And when I'm doing workshops, I don't have the afternoon. I don't have the afternoon to do my religious practice. So I do it in the morning with the rest of my practice. And I'm sitting in silence. And something says, you need to call home. I can't explain how the words are actually said. But there's something, there's an intuitiveness. You need to call home. I don't know why. You need to call home, meaning call my dad. Okay. I go to pick up the phone. My cell phone rings. And it's my brother. Dad is sick. I want you to call him. You're kidding me. We didn't want to bother you the last few days because we know you're speaking, doing this workshop. But he needs to go into the hospital. See, God connected the dots. You need to be here. You need to be here. You need to be here. Am I open enough to hear that? So I'm grateful to the prayer life and a meditative life. I'm so, I'm just so grateful to the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers and the teachers that God has put in my life. The people have just passed my path for a brief moment, some longer than others. That's why I offer many times, you know, we're at the coffee pot in an AA meeting and Joe comes over and he says, hey, Pete, how are you? And you just say, yeah, fine. And everything's good. Don't even look at him. You have no idea how important that moment may be. Or Mickey calling me out of a crowd and say, you want to go along with us and do this practice tonight. Okay. Something moved him to call me. Something moved me to trust him. And off we go. Guys like Gary and Tom and Juanita and just, it goes on. I think about where I was in 1988 and the giants God has put in my path because the greatest spiritual teachers I have ever met, and I sought out many outside of meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous, the greatest spiritual teachers I have met have been us, members of Alcoholics Anonymous. I have met members of Alcoholics Anonymous who continually propel me, who continually ignite a flame. And I get to do this and I get to have this. Alcoholics Anonymous. That's all I got. Peace.