Tag Archives: #beingabetterman

The Trek

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I have spent a few days considering writing a post. I still have a lot of poems to share (groan I hear!) but think by posting one today I would be losing half my audience, and then you would be sitting there reading this all alone!

I am pretty sure my “Better Man Project” is dead. I think constant improvement is often used as an excuse for not being the best you can today; it was certainly an excuse I used.

In addition my daily Mantras have not given me the guidance they were supposed to. I was always going to follow all of them… tomorrow, and just do the best I can today, instead of being my best every day; I think there is a difference.

Those of you (well both of you) who read my blog, may have suspected I was insane; and no doubt feel vindicated after my recent stay in the Rural and Remote Ward at Glenside Hospital. But, to me this was not the greatest indicator; it was my obliviousness to the fact that I was living my favourite quote from Albert Einstein.

As we all know, me more than some I would suggest, is that the insane person does not actually know they are insane. This was me.

I wrote blogs about Mantras and Being a Better Man; but, I was not improving, but just justifying the way I viewed the world and interacted with it.

I was rarely, the best I could be each day; which could have translated with a little effort and dedication into everyday.

I so often could not control what was happening to my life. I can only control how I react to it – this was more of a revelation than any Mantra or personal improvement process. I have always had excuses for the reactions to things in my life; I see now I was mostly wrong. Rest easy I now accept this.

In accepting this I worked on a little theory of how I felt about myself and my past action:

Guilt is awareness that our actions have injured someone else.

Shame is how we feel about ourselves.

I have a lot of regrets; but little shame. I am incredibly embarrassed and regretful for many things I have done and a lot of the things I have said.

My greatest, latest, all in living colour and 3D stereo sound revelation is that I historically have not been me; the true me. I have been sold, and resold, solidified and worshiped the gods of power, anger, consumerism and possessions (No, you can’t have all my stuff for free; I said realisation, not I am becoming a monk!)

A mate recently started calling me by my birth name and he said I was dead. He said:

We all loved the 70% of our mate who was loyal, generous, smart and helpful, but the other 30% would take our heads off, rip our hearts out and destroy with a word…

There was plenty of regret in my heart plus real admiration that he had the courage to tell me. I must admit when he told me the 30% he identified, it felt like 99% of what I mostly felt; I was lucky as I think I faked about three quarters of the 70% he actually liked!

So why did he tell me? We have spent a bit of time with each other lately and he said he didn’t see any of the 30% – okay, lets call it what is; he didn’t see; an angry, controlling, abusive, malicious, self centred prick!

Why?

Because I almost died.
Because the love of my life left.
and… I broke.

The first two, precipitated the last one; the first two were a realisation that all was not good in my view of life. I actually cringed at what my epitaph may have been if I had died and shake my head at how I treated love.

The breaking was the making.

Now I am here with all the pieces, but, I am lucky and grateful that I am still here. I am lucky and grateful for the love I had – and live in hope for.

I live one day at a time. I still have food in the fridge and pay my bills but mentally I am just in this day. I have hope and realise the world is not all about me.

Right, so what? Well fantastic that I am all better today, but there will be a tomorrow.

I am still on my trek. And it is a trek which I have just started. Up until recently I have been going through life as a ‘journey’. I may actually say I was on a ‘cruise’ with occassional fact finding missions into consumerism, power and surveying the battle grounds of my self justified victories!

These ‘journeys’ through life; the constant excitement of smashing down the rapids in my rubber raft driven by barely qualified guides and being with all the other tourists who pay for cheap excitement and gratification. These were my journeys in life, but now I am on a trek.

What does this trek entail that differentiates it from my life journeys to this point?

  • I have a lot of baggage that I have to carry (I do so gladdly but have packed them better)
  • There will be deep valleys (some like ‘the valley of the shadow of death” in the Bible!)
  • Highway men will constantly be trying to rob me (Read the Media, the merchants of misery; Advertisers and the Government!)
  • There will be wonderful scenery if I bother to lift my head
  • I will be with new and old travelling companions
  • I have a destination
  • I am determined to overcome all obstacles
  • I am doing it for me
  • I do it every day and don’t have days off

I now trek through life, some days the hills are steep, the wind is against me, it’s raining, and I am tired. On days like this I need only to take one step – that way I will always be going forward.

I don’t blame the weather, the steep hills or dark valleys or bad travelling companions for my progress, for it is my trek.

Each day I will choose how I see the next step; and I will take it.

I’m a Grandfather (in training)!

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I will be a good Grandfather… because I am practicing now.

I am leaving the speed of youth behind, the success of middle age, and working towards the wisdom of a life lived fully.

I work in my shed and make things.

I write in cursive and believe reading a book is the best escape.

I already hear the shrieks of joy as they arrive at my house and the tugging of their hand as they leave.

I feel them snuggled in my lap as I read stories to them… the wonder of the poetry I recite from memory it has taken me years to learn in preparation of that moment.

I buy the stuff we shouldn’t …. from op shops and garage sales for a dollar, that none of their friends have… the curios that I tell them stories about as we fix them, paint them or repurpose them to cherished possessions.

I keep current with technology so I can connect with them no matter where their parents take them in the world… which I hope is everywhere on adventures.

I try, so late in life to learn a language so they will see the importance of communicating with the world… and so we can have our secret words and language to trick Mum and Dad…

… and in being a good Grandfather I will be a good Dad and a great Father-in-Law. 

Beers in the shed with my Son-in-Laws when life is hard, and they feel comfortable to talk about my daughters, because they know I entrusted them with their care.  Maybe a soft touch of a shoulder and saying from my heart ‘these thing happen mate’ as my Father-in-Law said to me, when he could have been harsh and dismissive.

I am practicing to be a good, no great Grandfather, as I have not always been the best man.  I am lucky, as I am still here.

I practice being a good man each day to be that great Grandfather, pop, opa, gramps, I know I can be.

I was told recently my legacy is not my possessions, any inheritance or all my documents and photos : but the legacy I leave in peoples hearts… especially those of my Grandchildren.

Band of Brothers

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The term ‘band of brothers’ comes from Sakespeare’s play Henry V in the King’s St Crispin’s Day speech.

From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

It is pretty inspiring stuff; there are a few YouTube clips which are worth a watch if you interested – my favourite it this one – click here to be redirected to YouTube.

During my recent mental health challenges and my stay in Rural and Remote Ward at Glenside, it was my daughters and my Band of Brothers who got me through. They talked me to Adelaide and then rallied around me. They did tell a few porky pies to get me certified and admitted to Glenside – I do have a habit of checking myself out of hospital – obviously I know more than a Doctor who has trained for years!?

I can’t thank them enough!

So, I hope the following muse conveys my love of these guys and my daughters – and all they did, and are still doing for me.

“Band of Brothers”
 
Friends,
Thank you, for accepting me,
For your honesty,
                                    Even when it stings,
 
Your commitment, is in the truth,
                                    Which you risk our friendship,
                                    To honour,
                                    This is love.
 
I am still me,
                                    But better because,
                                    Of you,
 
I lost myself in being a better man,
                                    I faltered,
                                    You were there,
 
With everything I needed,
                                    To survive,
                                    To thrive.
To come out the other side,
 
In the dark,
                                    I feel you,
                                    I am held by you.
 
You walk beside me,
                                    Pushing from behind when needed,
                                    In front,
                                    Clearing the way when
                                    I am overwhelmed.
 
Without your counsel,
                                    I am stupid,
                                    Destructive, and
                                    Trapped with myself.
 
You have been there,
                                    Through all seasons,
                                    All reasons,
And for my lifetime.
 
You are,
                                    My Band of Brothers,
                                    I love you.

“My Daughters”
 
My daughters,
Do you come from me,
They surprise me.
 
Their virtues,
Fulfill me,
And they never know.
 
… a moment,
Touch, Hug,
… smile.
 
They make this trek,
A journey,
Off the scale of fulfillment.
 
They fill my heart,
My ambitions,
I never knew I had.
 
They make me better,
Always,
And proud they call me Dad.

Churn, Churn, Churn – Poetry in Mental Health

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I wrote this poem while in treatment… and really it just about sums up the situation. The ruminating creates the rubble in our minds.

But it does have a happy ending; which I hope all your treks do.

Stare, stare, stare,
Churn, churn, churn,
The air is still;
                                    I am in turmoil.
 
Heart, brain, soul,
Churn, churn, churn,
I sit a statue;
                                    To the storm within.
 
Body, mind, spirit,
Churn, churn, churn,
Each aches for;
                                    Lasting peace and calm.
 
Alone, separate, one,
Churn, churn, churn,
Isolated in mind and body;
                                    With me.
 
Then:
 
Surrender to all,
Gone, gone, gone,
All is unreal;
                                    In thought and emotion.
 
Churn, churn, churn,
Spins into the either,
And I am here;
                                    Now is peace.

My Mental Health – Get to Know Them

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When I was in the Rural and Remote Ward at Glenside Hospital I was not alone. There were many people suffering from a variety of mental injury and illness. We had a connection as we were all from the country.

Those that know me, understand that I am not a very humble man, but being in this ward for several weeks, I faced the greatest feelings of humility I could ever imagine. The only other time I felt this was when I worked on the APY Lands – another life changing experience.

I was humble and would say “if I lost 50% of my mental capacity, 50% of my physical capacity and 90% of my wealth I would still be 90% better of that 70% of the people on the ward with me.” I was humbled and still I am.

We all had a connection in the ward of not only coming from the country but in we were all fighting our own demons – some worse than others. At meals or when chatting or even going for a walk, there was always a moment that you had eye contact, and there was that connection that is hard to explain. Perhaps understanding is the best word.

I wrote the following poems about that connection. The second one was about a lady I met who was an Aboriginal woman who had that ‘old soul’ and was what I think our first Australians are so often not recognised for.

The final poem was written by a young patient who together we shared our poetry and she was kind enough to give me a copy of this one to publish.

I thank all the patients I met in the ward – they were instrumental in my healing and recovery through their friendship, care and community – thank you.

“Know Them”
 
Abe as right:
 
“I don’t like that man.  I need to get to know him better.”
 
Where I am now,
Both physical and mental,
Is a place,
Never for me,
                                    Except it is.
                                    I am here.
 
I need to get to know the place,
I need to get to know the people.
 
As my default was “I” or “Me”,
I didn’t want or need,
The “them” or the “others”,
Ever.
 
So, remember;
The King, the “I”,
Is dead,
And he feels the want.
 
To know,
                                    The people,
                                    The places
And, their stories.
 
The King is dead,
And, I am alone.
 
I listened,
Perhaps, truly, for the first time ever.
 
Sometimes I held a hand,
Hugged the tears shed,
                                    On my shoulder,
Watched the outbursts,
Saw true sadness,
Had conversations,
Even sung a song,
Actually went to a thing,
                                    Called “group”.
 
And went for long and,
Short walks;
In doing this,
I wanted to know them better.
 
There was “Young J”,
Who was here,
From a home far away,
Isolated, as we chatted,
Of getting back there;
So much life left,
And it always shined through;
He draws me a picture,
And he is in it,
Of youth, and fun,
With hope in the charcoal,
I liked the lad.
 
Older “N” who had,
A lot of stories to tell,
Of exploits, and boasts,
                                    A stint in goal,
Always made me laugh,
With jokes and a pun, fun;
I liked the man.
 
A true soul in “T”,
With her cocoon,
Of loving daughters;
And a hubby,
Unlike me,
Strong, level and kind;
Faith held them all strong,
We cried together,
I held her hand;
Connection of pain;
To healing trust we did make;
I liked this woman of grace.
 
And “G”,
Who was like,
The cartoon “Tasmanian Tiger”,
Said, and I quote,
“I’m a morning person and a night owl as well”
Many a wise word to share,
As with her kids she said it was,
                                    “Do as you’re told”
She laughs at herself,
To hide a broken heart,
I liked the woman,
                                    But, saw her once cruel,
                                    It hurt me more than her victim.
 
In a conversation,
I met tall dark “J”,
We only spoke the once,
But it was deep,
And heart felt,
A first Australian,
With heart and soul,
I connected through,
                                    Stories of brothers,
                                    And kin,
                                    And land.
I liked the man,
                                    My respect for his thoughts,
                                    And culture,
                                    Lingers still.
 
I met an old soul,
I like the change,
                                    In me, for it,
I hope I will live,
                                    Long,
                                    Live well,
                                    Live love,
Into my old soul.
 
… and passing hellos,
… and RUOK’s
                                    Except for young “C”
                                    Who thumbed up or down,
Like in roman times,
                                    Reporting her day.
 
… many moments,
Of actual connection.
 
To much or to short,
To say the love you think.
 
It is an instant,
It is now,
My history of finding me:
… the empathy,
… my listening,
… my understanding,
It is nothing but love.
 
I got to know the man,
I got to know the woman,
The true person,
The person, I didn’t like,
                                    On judgement,
So often wrong.
 
I brought to me,
The man I didn’t like;
Me;
I got to know him better,
Through them.
 
I like the man,
I am growing into,
I like the man today.
 
Thank you,
To the people I met,
I got to know them,
And the people I have to meet.
 

“Old Soul”
 
I walk through life,
The people pass me.
 
Young, so full of life,
Those on the middle path,
And twilight in the eyes of many.
 
Today I met and old soul,
Much life was in their face,
The body no gauge of it.
 
Their eyes looked straight into my heart,
And words at moments needed,
Inspirations, connections to soul and land.
 
Fellowship kinship,
And the osmosis of wisdom,
Through a soft touch.
 
The old souls,
Are among us,
Search for them,
Find them.
 
They may find you,
In your time of need.
 
Look for the signs.
 
And in the moment,
The old soul gives,
Of time to you; 

Be peaceful,
Be grateful,
Be Non-Judgmental,
Be forgiving,
Be accepting,
Be here, in the moment,
Have belief.
 
Carry from them,
This old soul,
In your heart,
Your, Deeds,
Your new and old mantras
 
Now in;
Peacefulness,
Gratitude,
No Judgment,
Forgiveness,
Acceptance,
In all the present moments,
Of now,
Find live in the moment.
 
In journey and treks,
In life,
Find the old souls.
 
Live well,
Live long,
Live love,
Into your, old soul.

“Sylvia”

Robins are red,
My sadness is blue,
My heart is bleeding,
But, not from you.

Can you feel the atmosphere,
Can you breath the air,
Please beg me,
So I can care.

This world makes me cry,
But why should I,
You know better,
We all did,
So why am I still in this shit?

My Mental Health – In Times of Mind

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I has taken me a while to getting to write this post.

Because, it is important, humbling, embarrassing; but, mostly life changing.

After a major health scare in December; let’s say it for what it is, it was a brain aneurysm and I almost died. Staring the Grim Reaper in the eye a couple of times can give you a bit of a scare and be life changing!

In recovering from that, and then having massive changes in my personal circumstances, there is no other way to describe it… I broke.

A really good psychiatrist said to me there were a lot of medical terms for my condition but basically I had a ‘good old fashioned nervous breakdown.’

As my spiritual guide Russell Brand would better describe it “I was a bit fucked.”

As a result, and only through the absolute love and dedication of my ‘Band of Brothers” and my wonderful daughters, they got me the help I needed. Thank you, you saved me.

I was admitted to the “Rural and Remote Ward” a Glenside Hospital. The only experience I had in the ‘Glenside Mental Hospital’ was dropping crazy people off in my career in the Police and my old Mum often saying “If you kids don’t behave I’ll end up in Glenside!”

I was humbled and grateful for all the care and treatment I received there of several weeks as an inpatient.

Also during that time I found a little blank notebook in the bookshelf that had a floral cover and the words ‘Life is Beautiful’ printed on it. In this little book which I found by coincidence I started to write poetry.

Now those who know me and have heard me recite “Clancy of the Overflow” about 1000 times and threatened to punch me will know, I have always been a little interested in the wonders of verse and poetry. I have written a few before and love a verse or two in my homemade cards which some of you have been subjected to.

Plus I have to thank my late buddy of 30 years Des Steele for his love of poetry and it’s inclusion in many of his ‘Desisms’. (I still miss him and you can read about him in a post I did a few years ago when he passed away – click here).

So I filled this little book with poetry during my recovery. I filled that book and a few more pages since!

The poem below was the first I wrote in Glenside. It is basically the first draft, are a lot of my poems, which I don’t change in typing them up so as not to lose the moment they were written.

The poem below has recently been published on a United Kingdom site – www.theperspectiveproject.co.uk – which has a lot of works by people recovering from mental illness – worth a look I think.

So, I haven’t written here lately, largely because I have been writing in another way I love with pen and paper in cursive (much to the horror of my daughters and their inability to read cursive!)

I will include a little heading, not like this rambling, for each of my posts where I publish another poem; I may even read a few on my YouTube Channel Being a Better Man.

But, mostly I want to share my trek, as I experienced it, and wrote about it.

I will share my posts on Facebook etc (which is probably how you got here anyway) and appreciate your comments and feedback – there is a comments section on the bottom of this post and all my posts if you want to use that on this site to comment or provide feedback or suggestions.

By the way, I love doing this, it has helped a lot in my treatment and recovery. I hope you can find something for you.

Enjoy. (and No, hardly any of my poems rhyme!)

“In Times of Mind – Hope”
 
In times of mind,
Through experience,
I lose myself.
 
I see, and think, and feel,
And lose to myself.
 
I circle and dive,
I resurface;
To a confused sea.
 
I struggled against
The currents within;
And the steep mountain ahead.
 
I swim and climb; alone:
Against the winds within.
 
In the blackness,
Without light, I turn searching,
For landfall, or the smallest foothold.
 
I am alone.
 
I reach out my hand,
In one final grasp at survival.
 
…And suddenly, I feel
The grip I have been seeking.
 
I am held afloat,
A firm foot hold found,
 
It is love,
And family,
And friendship;
It was there all the time.
 
The light of the beacon,
Always shines;
My blindness was from within.
 
The light now guides me;
The light now fills me.
 
I now sail and trek forth,
In light, in love;
With hope.

My Mum’s

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What a wonderful day to celebrate.

How wonderful to be a Mother.

I wrote the following ode, for me, and for my Mothers both who are no longer with us.

I know you worry about me still.
I know that you love me.

All my choices have been my own.
You were always with me, right or wrong.

I will always be grateful to you
Mum Wendy for giving me life,
Mum for choosing me,
And giving me a life full of love.

I thank you for all my siblings.

Through you I have wonderful daughters.
They fill my heart as they would yours.

Thank you for my life.
I love you Mum, I love you Mum Wendy.

Your Son.

And if you are sad today if your Mum is not here, like mine; I wrote a little something about that which I hope will raise your spirit, remind you of the love of your Mum, the love you had for her… and if you are like me, you know one day you will meet again.

No person alive
Should be sad
For those who are dead.

Because, they don’t know
They are not here
They are in a place we cannot comprehend.

Be grateful we are here
Appreciate it
Rejoice in it
And laugh because those who are not
Are better, beyond our thoughts.

Hello friend, hello family, hello those I have not yet met
I am here, and so are you
Our loved ones may be gone
But they are better for it.

They would laugh at us
They have no cares of this world
Be happy for their journey
Beyond our comprehension.

Together we will sit here
And be happy to be alive
Loving the joy of it.

May your Mothers Day, Mothers, Mothers to be, Mothers not with us know that you are loved and we are grateful.

Every Day Should be ANZAC Day

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I wonder how many of us went to the dawn service and commemorated the spirit of our ANZACs and today go about our business somehow not remembering what brought a tear yesterday at dawn. Can we still remember and live the feelings we had, the pride, the respect and the some how feeling part of a community greater than ourselves.

Well, every ANZAC Day I think about these things.

What’s more I think about them most days. When I see the petty squabbling in day to day life; when I hear our politicians speak; when I see big business take from the needy; when I hear the media (the Merchants of Misery) create and ignore news; when I see someone struggling and needing help that would cost most of us almost nothing.

I think about the spirit of the ANACS everyday and a few years ago sat down and wrote the following.

I really hope that in the morning and the going down of the sun you will always remember what it really means to celebrate and more importantly live the spirit of the ANZACs.

Why can’t every day be ANZAC Day

Bravery would be commonplace
Loyalty would be volunteered
We would fight for those
who could not fight for themselves

We would love our country

We are just glad to be alive – today

You carry everything we own
We write each other letters
Good fun, is just good fun
Our leaders lead
and we follow

Coming home is the most important thing
We volunteer
Sacrifice is given gladly
Life is short, often horrific
but we face it with our mates
and we all stand fast

Heroes; really are heroes
We don’t do things to be remembered
Medals are earned
often with our lives

And probably most of all
every sunrise, and
every sunset
We would remember those that have fallen
and
every day
We would live our lives to honour the values
That we have fought and died for

 I wish everyday was ANZAC Day

The Gift of a Day

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I was looking in the book shelf the other day to find something to read….  okay I know you are thinking I am looking for a book to read on the toilet….  WRONG!   Let me assure you I do not read books on the toilet – everyone knows that toilet time is YouTube time!

Anyway I was standing there completely underwhelmed by the majority of the books which were mainly self help books (Note to self:  Write a self help book about finding self help books in your bookshelf!) when I saw a little book called “The Ultimate Gift.”  Well I actually saw two copies of it and wondered why I would have two?  So curiosity got the best of me and I had a little read…

Without destroying the very basic plot of this self help book which is written as a story so that you don’t feel as if you are being preached at because the loser in the book is fictional and not a complete representation of you and your life……  there basically is no plot.

There is however, a very interesting chapter called:

The Gift of a Day
Life at its essence boils down to one day at a time – today is the day.

Pretty profound beginning to the chapter (you have to have snappy headings when you have no plot… it really needed pictures as well!).  In essence our hero was telling a young lad about his idea of “The Gift of a Day” which he summed up as:

“When you face your own mortality you contemplate how much of your life you have lived versus how much you have left.  I know at some point I will live the last day of my life.  I have been thinking about how I would want to live that day and what I would do if I had only one day left to live.  I have come to realise that if I can get a picture in my mind of maximising one day, I have mastered the essence of living because life is nothing more than a series of days.”

Well, I have faced my own mortality just recently so this sentence rang a bit of a cord with me.  Not that I haven’t contemplated that one inevitability in life, that being death, a few times in the past.

I have thought about our time here being the only commodity (click here to read “Better with the Only Commodity”) or what would we do if we actually got a real taste of death and how that would effect how we would then live (click here to read Better at “Wishing You Were Dead”)….  but, this little story today, and that one chapter seems so obvious yet so universally ignored and forgotten about.

I know we all wander into this life with an unknown amount of life.  We get to spend our time (the only real commodity) any way we wish to.  Some may spend it quickly and buy all the big ticket items and live like a rock star (especially rock stars)…. and others may spend frugally and find that all their savings can’t be cashed in when they are needed.

I actually thought ‘that day’ had arrived a few weeks ago.  I didn’t get to spend it how I planned – actually as there was no time to plan and the day was thundering ahead towards my demise and I wasn’t thinking about my bucket list, I was only thinking about the kicking of that bucket I appeared to be about to take….

It would appear that death didn’t always come a knocking and say “Hey you better get your shit together because you need to get a couple of perfect days under your belt before I come swinging with my sythe!”

As it turned out death wasn’t something I was fearing, I have my beliefs, and they sit well with me.  If you have watched the movie Crocodile Dundee you will understand my take on the after life as being a bit like Mick Dundee when he is asked if he believes in God and he replies “I reckon we’d be mates.”

It wasn’t my fear of dying, it was my fear of not living that worried me.  I didn’t get to plan my last day and there was still some shit I had to do.  So, I now have the time to do it…. but, life gets in the way… and unfortunately it appears to be getting back to normal… important shit is happening everywhere and my days are getting full again… I just don’t have time to die there isn’t a gap in my schedule.

And as I wrote not long after ‘surviving’ when my main priority in life being filling out forms:

Afterglow of tragedy,
Fades in direct comparison to the minute by minute
Requirement to deal with the mundane

I realised that my almost death was not that important, or after a few days, probably wouldn’t even be noticed.  I realised that I had a bit more life to live because I realised that the gift of a day, is everyday.

“DING”

I lost the moment of the profound life
When mine almost ended
And it was not profound.

I saw it,
My friends and family saw it
Not only in my life,
But in their own.

It is not a sad moment
But a lonely one.
At the moment where you almost sleep
For eternity
You wake
To the booming sound of nothing.

And your muses are silent
And the profound extension of your existence lost
You are nothing

Your achievements and possessions dust
Your struggles but the small ding of the triangle
At the back of the orchestra,

                            Unheard.

 

 

Russell Brands’ 12 Steps

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In my last post I spoke about Russell Brands’ new book – “Freedom From Our Addictions” (Link here for it on Amazon Australia)…

Russell in this book describes his own version of the Alcoholic Anonymous 12 Steps Program and uses it in everyday life to overcome all his problems. He speaks interestingly about how many of our ‘addictions’ are the way we behave.

For me personally this has been my ‘Scorpion Attitude’ towards others, especially those close to me and I am supposed to love and protect. I describe the story of the Scorpion and the Frog in a previous blog you can read by clicking here if you don’t know it.

It always meant for me that it was in my nature to sting others and I used this as an excuse – along with a few work related stress, anxiety and depression issues which invaded my life and head. All really were just excuses to justify sometimes pretty damaging behaviour. See, I did it then – lessening my involvement – thinking back most time… make that all the time I let the scorpion win it WAS damaging behaviour!

Well, after reading Russells’ book and a bit of soul searching I realised the 12 Steps as described by him can work in a lot of life’s challenges.

I have set them out below alongside the original AA 12 Steps Program – but I must CAUTION here that Russell like me has a tendency for, well, COLOURFULL LANGUAGE.

I hope this may help you on your trek in life…. the hardest step is always the first one….. and this is no different.

AA 12 Steps Russell Brand 12 Steps
We admitted we were powerless over
alcohol—that our lives had become
unmanageable. 		1Are you fucked?
Came to believe that a Power greater
than ourselves could restore us to sanity. 		2Could you not be fucked?
Made a decision to turn our will and our
lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.		3Are you, on your own, going to “unfuck” yourself?
Made a searching and fearless moral
inventory of ourselves.		4Write down all the things that are fucking you up or have ever fucked you up and don’t lie, or leave anything out.
Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to
another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.		5Honestly tell someone trustworthy about how fucked you
are.
Were entirely ready to have God remove
all these defects of character.		6Well that’s revealed a lot of fucked up patterns. Do you
want to stop it? Seriously?
Humbly asked Him to remove our
shortcomings.		7Are you willing to live in a new way that’s not all about you
and your previous, fucked up stuff? You have to.
Made a list of all persons we had harmed,and became willing to make amends to
them all.		8Prepare to apologize to everyone for everything affected by your being so fucked up.
Made direct amends to such people
wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. 		9Now apologize. Unless that
would make things worse.
Continued to take personal inventory and
when we were wrong promptly admitted it. 		10Watch out for fucked up
thinking and behaviour and
be honest when it happens.
Sought through prayer and meditation to
improve our conscious contact with God  as we understood Him, praying only for
knowledge of His will for us and the
power to carry that out.  		11Stay connected to your new
perspective.
Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs  12 Look at life less selfishly, be
nice to everyone, help people if you can.