This is where I’m coming from in my recovery. I’m not here to rewrite the Twelve Steps; they don’t need rewriting. They are what they’ve always been: timeless, solid, and transformative. I am interested in looking at them from a fresh angle, shining light on the barriers we don’t always notice. Because here’s the truth: many of us, me included, have walked into those rooms full of hope, only to stumble over hidden beliefs, blind spots, or that sly little voice of the ego whispering, “This doesn’t apply to you.”
For those new to the Fellowship of the Spirit or this Beyond the Basics series, I share reflections drawn from my path of recovery. My foundation is deeply rooted in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous and the Twelve Steps, but I’ve also been influenced by the teachings of Non-Duality and A Course in Miracles. Together, these perspectives form a lens that often reveals truths we might otherwise miss, a lens that can expose the exact nature of what keeps us stuck.
The Storm Within
Have you ever noticed how quickly peace can vanish? One harsh word, one careless remark, and suddenly anger consumes us. It feels like a storm rising out of nowhere, our hearts race, our minds replay the insult, and every fiber of our being screams to strike back.
This is the alcoholic’s dilemma in miniature. Our reactions so often reveal where "self” still rules. But as A Course in Miracles teaches:
“I am never upset for the reason I think.” (Lesson 5, ACIM)
The anger is never really about the comment, the insult, or the person who delivered it. It’s about the fragile ego, our false self demanding recognition, validation, and control. Non-duality echoes this truth, reminding us that what we defend so fiercely, our self, is only a passing illusion.
The Self-Driven Ego’s Trap
The Twelve Steps are designed to sever us from the bondage of self, but most resist. We think recovery is about polishing up the ego, putting a fresh coat of paint on the same broken structure. We imagine if we can just become a “better self”, a more disciplined self, a more spiritual self, then maybe we’ll finally get it right. But here’s the kicker: if the problem is self, then no version of “self” will ever be the solution.
The Steps don’t ask us to improve self; they ask us to abandon it. That’s why Step Three is pivotal: “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.” It’s an invitation to let go of the storm and step into the calm center where a Higher Power holds us steady.
As A Course in Miracles teaches:
“Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God.” (Introduction, ACIM)
The insults, the anger, the self-doubt: these are unreal. They dissolve when we stop justifying and clinging to them.
Training the Mind
In early recovery, I used to believe freedom meant never feeling anger or fear again. So when those emotions came knocking, I assumed I was doing something wrong, failing. But here’s the truth I’ve come to see: freedom isn’t about erasing emotions; it’s about not letting them run the show. This illness guarantees we’ll feel that first surge of anger, fear, or shame; we can’t control that. But what we can do is pause before we feed it. And that pause? That’s everything. That’s the sacred ground where transformation takes root. It’s also the same space where the brain begins to rewire itself, where old, destructive patterns slowly give way to new pathways of freedom—a recalibration of the soul and the mind, all sparked by a single pause.
The Stoics knew this long before neuroscience gave it a name. Marcus Aurelius began each day reminding himself: “Today I shall meet people who are meddling, ungrateful, arrogant… yet none of them can harm me.” He wasn’t being cynical; he was training his mind for neutrality.
Recovery points us to the same practice: pause when agitated and ask for the right thought or action. We constantly remind ourselves that we are no longer running the show. Different language, same principle. What we repeat, we strengthen. Neuroscience calls it neuroplasticity. The program calls it “a daily reprieve contingent on maintaining our spiritual condition.”
Fellowship and Environment
Another lesson I’ve learned: you cannot walk this path alone. Just as the Big Book emphasizes fellowship, the Stoics warned that if you spend time with the angry, you will learn anger. Our environment shapes us. That’s why community matters: sponsorship, meetings, and spiritual fellowship are not optional extras but lifelines.
Their calm strengthens me when I surround myself with those who walk in peace. When I immerse myself in the Big Book, A Course in Miracles, or teachings of non-duality, I am reminded of who I truly am, not the false self clinging to old hurts, but the spirit beneath it all.
Beyond the Basics
This “going beyond the basics” recovery work is not about rewriting the Steps but about living them with fresh eyes. The barriers dissolve when we see that our anger, fear, and demands for control are not the truth but illusions of self. And in their place, a greater freedom emerges.
As A Course in Miracles so beautifully puts it:
“I could see peace instead of this.” (Lesson 34, ACIM)
That one line sums up the heart of recovery. In any moment, we have a choice: to see through the eyes of fear, or to surrender and see peace instead.
Choosing Peace
So, here’s the question I leave you with: the next time anger rises, the next time self shouts for attention, will you hand over the remote control of your emotions to something else? Or will you pause, breathe, and choose peace instead?
Recovery isn’t about perfection. It’s about practice. It’s about training the mind to pause and the heart to surrender. And it’s about remembering, over and over, that we are not our storm.
That’s why the Steps matter, why the Fellowship matters, and why teachings like Non-Duality and ACIM harmonize so beautifully with AA. They all point to the same truth: We are not the voice in our head. We are not the bondage of self. We are, and always have been, a spiritual condition.
Until next time, may we stay awake, surrendered, and free.
—Terry
Keep the Faith