It’s one of my greatest character defects. I tend to come up with an idea, skip the middle part, and move directly into daydreaming about how great my life will be as a result of the idea. The middle part that I skip? It’s called work.
Step 4: made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
That’s not to say I don’t try; I’m just never 100% sure when I’m finished. The tangible stuff is easy: higher salary equals more money equals more things and more is good. Even the me stuff is easy to understand, as long as it’s physical: healthy habits equals healthy body. So it’s no surprise the stuff that is consistently tripping me up resides inside my skull.
I know when I’m done varnishing a chair. The elliptical machine keeps tabs on my workout. But when have I prayed enough? Have I sufficiently dropped all that I need to let go of today? Where’s my “stand back and admire” moment? There’s no pride in a job well done. Which is fine; I tend to convert pride into arrogance at a rate of 1:2.
The reason there’s no satisfaction is because it’s not immediate, the only form of gratification I understand. But the program reveals itself in much more subtle ways, and the results usually take some time to show themselves. Hence the importance of Step 10. It’s a gradual growth after the pink cloud, and the momentous occasions become less and less momentous. I mean, the main fire’s out, right?
Well, I guess it’s all in how you look at it. But that gets back to the farmer commenting after the tornado story in the book. Ain’t it grand it stopped blownin’, ma? Yeah, but there’s still a lot of work that needs to be down.
And we’re back to work.
Today: Understand that everything’s the middle part, good and bad.