Into Action

Chapter Six ("Into Action") of our textbook, Alcoholics Anonymous, tells us, "Once we have taken this step, withholding nothing, we are delighted.  We can look the world in the eye." The literature is, of course, referring to the freedom we experience upon completion of Step Five in our program of recovery ("Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.") That freedom, however, that ability to look the world in the eye, never felt more powerful than it did on Labor Day this year for me.  As an equine massage therapist, I, along with a human practitioner, combined our skill sets, and set up a tent at the Rhode Island Equitation Finals in East Greenwich, Rhode Island to massage horses and riders.  No stranger to the world of competitive horse showing (my daughter, Lindsey, a nationally-ranked equestrian in the late 90s, actually won the Junior Mini Medal in 2004 when the finals were held at Peckham Farm, across from the University of Rhode Island), I hadn't been to a horse show since 2007.  Lindsey was the consummate competitor, naturally gifted, graceful, and kind in spirit.  Not so her mother.  I was a hardcore show mom, and I made few friends among trainers, spectators, and other family members on the show circuit.

Gearing up for this year's finals, I anticipated running into several of the local mothers and trainers I undoubtedly harmed with my attitude over the years, and I was ready and eager to make those long overdue Step Nine amends.  Of the six individuals I greeted with a smile and outstretched hand, all leaned in to hug me, inquired about my family, my work, my life.  My heartfelt amends were graciously acknowledged and accepted.  (A few even sent me Facebook friend requests which I gratefully accepted.)  At the bottom of page 83 in the Big Book, we are told, "If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through.  We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness."  Leaving the horse show on Labor Day, my side of the barn aisle swept clean, I was reminded that the promises will always materialize if I am willing to work for them.