If it weren’t so pitiful, it would be funny. Back some years, about the time I came into the program, the big theory among medical men and psychologists was that the alcoholic drank because he had an oral fixation. I guess that’s the reason we ate, too.
Why bring this old piece of garbage up? Because today we talked about our real oral fixation. Talk. Or better yet, what we talk about.
When the AA program was in its infancy, having no literature of its own, the founders read from two books in the main. The first was Emmet Fox’s book The Sermon on the Mount, and the second was based on St. Jame’s letter in the NT. That’s where the idea of the twelfth step is expressed. The idea that when a man pulls another back from the pit, he saves his own soul. But it’s the beginning of that letter which is so important. It talks about the smallest member of our body, like the rudder on a great ship, directing its course. The tongue. It seems to direct the course of our lives.
Nothing has gotten me in more trouble than my mouth. That really was the subject. A kind or unkind word can actually direct the course of our day and maybe our lives. My problem of course is that my mouth often engages before my brain has a chance to arrive at the conclusion that I’m on the wrong track. As Sandy B. once said, what he said was out of his mouth and he tried to catch it before it reached the ear of the one he was speaking to. I’ve often had the same experience. Wanting to reel the words in before the person heard it.
One wise person told me that alcoholics live to talk and they talk to live. The first part of that statement is about the problem we have and the second part talks about the solution. We have to talk to disclose to others what’s going on with us, so that we can avoid picking up that first drink again. It is, at least I think, one of the things that sustains our sobriety and indeed our lives. But the first part speaks to what’s wrong with us; our mouths.
We all have opinions and our vocalizing of them can stir up a riot. I can cause anger and despair. It can hurt others worse than a blow. A good friend of mine once told me that they were glad they were my friend, because they wouldn’t want to be my enemy. She was referring to my mouth. High praise indeed.
I heard a man say that his mother gave him great advice. Others picked up on what he said, as did I. He said his mother told him that when he spoke it should be helpful, hopeful, and thoughtful, as well as kind. But that would require me to think before I spoke. I’m going to have to ask for help with that.
Anyway, it’s all in the business of staying and living sober. That’s what I was thinking about this afternoon.
Park yourself in front of a world of choices in alternative vehicles.