Living in Recovery

Where Miracles Become the Norm

Living in recovery, rather than just talking about it, is when this path becomes a way of life. At some point, the language of hope becomes the heartbeat of daily experience. I didn’t plan for recovery to take over my life, but by the grace of something greater, it did. What started as a necessity to survive turned into a conscious choice to thrive. And still, after all this time, I feel compelled to write about it. Why? Because living it and sharing it are part of the same miracle.

It’s easy to talk about recovery. Anyone can recite slogans or share in a meeting. But to live it? That’s where the real transformation happens. That’s where theory meets action and where action becomes alignment.

My mission today is simple: to recognize that there is no line between the spiritual and the physical. As the Twelve Steps teach us, this world, right here, right now, is the ground on which spirit walks. Recovery isn’t some occasional mountaintop moment. It’s available to us in every moment, if we’re willing to see it. Miracles aren’t rare. They’re the norm when we’re open to perceiving them.

A miracle, in the context of recovery, is not necessarily the blind seeing or the wheelchair abandoned, though that happens too. The real miracle is the shift in perception. It’s the movement from incomprehensible demoralization to conscious clarity. It’s going from hopelessness to hope, from resentment and fear to love and acceptance. From separation to connection.

This shift is deeply personal. For me, it meant confronting the idea that love was dangerous. There were times I believed love wasn’t worth the risk, especially in romantic relationships. Many of us in recovery carry that wound: love, once twisted by our addiction or our upbringing, became conditional, scary, and manipulative. We learned to “give to get,” and when we didn’t get what we expected, we shut down. We mistook attachment for affection, and bargaining for belonging.

Recovery teaches us to unlearn all that. It asks us to question what we think love is. In A Course in Miracles, Lesson 127 says, “There is no love but God’s.” That truth hits hard: real love doesn’t come and go, doesn’t trade favors or wait for conditions to be met. It simply is. It flows through us when we stop damming it up with fear and expectations.

In recovery, the journey isn’t about learning how to get love; it’s about discovering that we already are love. We just forgot.

I’ve seen this play out countless times, especially in my role as a sponsor. A sponsee once asked, “How can I get more love from my girlfriend?” I told him he had it backward. The question isn’t how to get more love. It’s about allowing more love to flow from yourself. You can’t extract something from someone that you’re not willing to give freely. That’s the miracle of recovery: love becomes an outflow, not a transaction.

This distinction matters. Real giving, the kind that doesn’t expect anything in return, liberates us from the bondage of self. And that bondage is the root of our suffering. The Third Step Prayer says, “Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will.” That’s not just a beautiful sentiment; it’s the cornerstone of the spiritual awakening this program offers.

The ego wants to engineer love, to orchestrate approval. It wants to be seen, validated, and rewarded. But the spirit just wants to give. Not to impress. Not to earn points. To give, because it’s what we are.

I often say: launch and release. Give without gripping the outcome. True generosity is detached. It’s free of manipulation. And here’s the paradox: when we give like that, without expectation, we are filled up in ways the ego could never imagine.

As someone with a background in engineering, I used to believe that everything could be built, fixed, or controlled. Recovery taught me the opposite: that spiritual growth can’t be engineered. You can’t hustle your way into peace. You can’t scheme your way into love. You surrender your way into it. That’s how the inner kingdom is revealed.

Each day, I try to notice where I’m giving to get. I try to examine my motives with gentle honesty. When I feel unappreciated or restless, it’s often because I’ve slipped into the expectation that someone or something should complete me. But I’m learning, more and more, that I already have what I need. The kingdom isn’t out there. It’s within.

Recovery isn't a destination. It’s a daily practice of choosing spirit over ego, presence over performance, love over fear. It’s about waking up to what’s already true: that we are enough, and that miracles are happening all the time.

When we stop trying to get and start choosing to give, we get to live in the flow. And in that flow, everything changes.

So, if you're new to this path, or just returning, let me say this: the miracle is not coming. It’s here. Right now. In this breath. In this awareness. In the decision to trust something greater than yourself. That is where recovery lives. And that is where we become free.

If this resonates with something within you, some inner knowing beyond the noise, I invite you to stay. Subscribe for more reflections on recovery, spiritual awakening, and the daily practice of letting go. We’re not here to fix ourselves. We’re here to remember who we are beneath the weight.

Let’s walk this path together: one day, one breath, one surrender at a time.

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Keep the Faith