Rain

It's a rainy day here, and much cooler than what we've experienced recently. I've learned to appreciate the beauty of a rainy day. A drought will do that to you.



My best friend used to live in Spain in a beautiful villa on the Mediterranean Coast. I was fortunate to spend several vacations there, ranging between ten days to three weeks. All told, I spent about two months enjoying myself in this semi-tropical paradise. The weather would be described by most as "perfect," with constant sun and balmy breezes coming off the sea. I could count the number of overcast days on one hand, and still lose a few fingers in my kitchen blender. I noticed, though, especially during the three-week stay, that the endless sunny days became mundane. "Perfect" became commonplace, and I was actually invigorated by a rainy day when I returned home.



I see now that when I was trying to find bigger-faster-longer-more-more-more in a bottle, I was unable to appreciate the quiet beauty in ordinary things. The pursuit of heightened sensation actually dulled my senses, and I became a "dull boy." Wretched excess led to addiction, and this caused the hedonic threshold in my brain to be set at an unnaturally high level. The good news is that this pleasure-sensor can be reset to a normal level, although it has taken months for this to happen. I must always remind myself that just one drink will reset this brain mechanism, and I will be back to square one. I don't want that. I like being able to appreciate a rainy day.



A medical doctor who specializes in addiction cites study results proving the part of the brain affected by addictive substances is the mid-brain, where our basic survival instincts are housed. This explains why the will-power of "good and moral" people is thwarted by addiction. The mid-brain tags the drug (and alcohol is a drug, too) as the primary survival mechanism, so it trumps everything else. I know this is true because this is how I ended up in the hospital. Although my body was screaming and crying out for nourishment, my primary survival mechanism had become alcohol. Hungry? "Have a drink," my mid-brain urged. Stressed? "Shake a martini, quick!" my primary survival mechanism demanded.



This is why AA's 12-step program works if someone simply follows the program diligently. Faith will trump alcohol and other drugs by becoming the primary survival mechanism. Yes, Alcoholics Anonymous is a faith-based organization. No, I had no faith in a Higher Power when I went to my first AA meeting. I was so battered, beaten, and near death that I was ready to give up the fight. I didn't have any faith, and I didn't worry about it. I just adopted a "whatever happens, happens" attitude, and I was willing to concede that maybe, just maybe, there was a power greater than myself. I sure hoped there was, since I was powerless over alcohol. It stood to reason that if no other Higher Power existed, and I was powerless over alcohol, then my Higher Power was alcohol. How screwy does that sound?



So, I relaxed and went with the flow. I did my best to pray and meditate (even though I didn't think I knew what I was doing) during my morning AA meetings, and without my conscious realization I found a Higher Power that exists not only around me, but within me.



Anyone can do this.



A sunny day gives us no rainbows. Rain must be added to the sunlight for us to see the lovely spectrum of colors. Trite? Maybe. True? You bet.