amend my life and form right relationships with those around me and those whom I had harmed, I developed a heightened connectedness to humanity. I also sensed a guiding power or principle that I understood as love and compassion.
At this stage, the poetry of Walt Whitman and John Donne were especially helpful in my growth. It was Whitman who said, “For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.” John Donne wrote “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. . .any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.”
Their poetical theory of the interconnectedness of humanity enhanced the spiritual healing that was transforming me. Their line of thinking was an antidote to my addictive self who sought isolation, wishing to truly form my own one-person island on the continent of humanity. From Donne, Whitman, and other poets I was able to flesh out the ideas of universal love, ethical behavior, and connectedness that were filling the God-shaped hole in my heart. But that still left the problem of prayer. Concepts like prayer and meditation hadn’t been part of my life during my active addiction. And, as much I hated to admit it, I really had no idea how to pray or what to pray for.
Little did I know I was hardly alone; I had a lot of company in my ignorance.
In fact, the questions of how to pray and why prayer is important have perplexed people—addicts and non-addicts alike—throughout the ages. Spiritual masters have provided us with clues to the answers, but rarely with detailed methods that are applicable for all people at all times. For instance, when Jesus was asked how to pray, he taught his disciples the Our Father. When Mohammed was asked, “Tell us, which action is dearest to Allah?” He answered “To say your prayer at its proper time.” Buddha counseled his followers that “The greatest prayer is patience.”
Initially, I regarded prayer as something a person did by rote. It never dawned on me that the words of prayers had deep resonance and that those praying the words were to contemplate what they were saying. To illustrate, it wasn’t until I started attending meetings that I learned “ourfatherwhoartinheaven” wasn’t one word. I’m not sure I had ever heard the Serenity Prayer or the Prayer of St. Francis.
Later on I learned that prayer didn’t even have to contain words. One of the useful definitions of prayer for me is the one that explains prayer as responding to God, by thought and by deeds, with or without words. Mahatma Gandhi used to say that prayer is not about asking. Instead, prayer speaks to the soul’s deep longings, and in prayer we can admit weakness. Prayer can mean that our hearts speak without words, a condition better than just speaking the words without a heart.
“Prayer is not asking” was a key concept for me. For a long time I assumed that prayer was about asking for specific things or asking for things to happen—a new car to replace the clunker, a better job, a new relationship to replace the one I had lost, winning a game, getting out of trouble, or finding my lost keys. But I learned that more mature prayer was about seeking growth and connection. If I were to “ask” for anything in my prayers, it should be the strengthening of attributes already present, such as patience, humility, comfort, fortitude, etc.
Gandhi wasn’t the only person to teach me this lesson. St. Francis was even blunter when he said, “When we pray to God we must be seeking nothing—nothing.” The deepest prayer is really about connecting and listening and comes in three steps. First, prayer is about connecting to your spiritual self and its longings. Second, it is about listening to the small, still voice inside of you that is your essence and the source of goodness. And finally, it is about applying whatever you heard (or didn’t hear) to form and strengthen your relations with others.
In a way, this book is a prayer. Over the years I have learned through my prayers that the noblest life for me to live is a life of service. I often struggle with service to others as my calling, since by nature I am self-centered, short-tempered, and ungenerous. But recovery and God have a way of getting under one’s skin, and as a result, my spiritual progress, while slow, has been perceptible. I have tried to serve others in my personal life, in my professional life, and in my own life of recovery freely and generously. In that process, I have learned much about prayer and maybe something about life. This book is an effort to share some of the wisdom and grace I have gained in my recovery journey. Two awakenings in particular are embedded throughout this book: addiction results from a spiritual vacuum and spirituality fills that vacuum.
To that end, Guide Me in My Recovery is an anthology of prayers designed for people in recovery, although recovery is not a requirement to use any or all of these prayers. The book’s title is an allusion to the Third Step Prayer found in the recovery text of a twelve-step program. For those of you who might not know, the Twelve Steps are the common denominator of all twelve-step programs of recovery. Step Three proposes that those in recovery make a decision to turn their will and lives over to God or their higher power. I believe the Third Step is so important to placing recovery on a spiritual plane that I have included an entire chapter in Guide Me in My Recovery devoted to Third Step prayers. Some of these prayers you may find useful, some eloquent, some familiar, and some off-beat.
In addition to the chapter on Third Step prayers, there are eleven other chapters divided by situations and events that might require the thoughts and words of prayers framed with a particular emphasis. There are daily prayers and prayers to use when times are joyful and when times are tough. Some of the prayers are famous, some are obscure, and some were written by me. Many of them come from the Christian tradition, but I have included prayers from other faith traditions as well because I believe that God hears all prayers. And for those of you interested in learning more about prayer, I’ve included a list of recommended sources at the end of the book.
Let me end this Introduction with a prayer before you begin reading.
A Prayer
JANE AUSTEN
Give us grace almighty father, so to pray,
as to deserve to be heard, to address thee with
our hearts, as with our lips. Thou art everywhere
present; from thee no secret can be hid.
May the knowledge of this, teach us to fix our
thoughts on thee, with reverence and devotion
that we pray not in vain. . . .
Give us a thankful sense of the blessings
in which we live, of the many comforts of our lot;
that we may not deserve to lose them by
discontent or indifference. Hear us almighty God,
for his sake who has redeemed us, and taught
us thus to pray. Amen.
Discipline is a word many people—especially those in recovery—don’t like to hear. It smacks of authoritarianism, and we fear it will stifle our independence. It also conjures up memories of being punished when we were young. But these are not the term’s only meanings. Spiritually, discipline takes on a far deeper and positive meaning. It is used to mean “training to improve strength or self-control.” And in the case of our spiritual lives, the discipline of prayer may be regarded as a holy habit, training to improve our spiritual strength.
One of the most important
