10 Years Sober

In Kirsten's comment on my “Some Thoughts on Resentment” posting she mentions the pressure AAs often feel on reaching milestones like 10 years. I find that comment interesting, in part because I have noticed a lot of stories about relapses occurring between 10 and 12 years of sobriety. I think Kirsten is on to something when she says that there is pressure to show (or at least feel) significant progress by your 10th anniversary. Having just celebrated my 10th anniversary this topic is of special interest to me.

It seems to me that there is an excessive emphasis on time in the program. Seniority is often carried almost as a rank. “Joe has 20 years, so he must be right/have great sobriety/be a spiritual person.”

While we all know very wise old timers, we all also know people with long term sobriety who don't seem to get it, and even a few who are clearly out of their friggin' minds. And we've all encountered people with a few years who have an inspiring sobriety. There is a trio of litter-mates in my home group whose joy in sobriety is amazing and infectious after less than two years. I've learned more from them than from any bitter dry drunk who brags about having double digits without ever doing a single step.

The question is what is that 'progress' we want after a number of years. Are we just after a large collection of chips and medallions or are we seeking true happiness, true serenity, true spiritual growth? Obviously long term sobriety is a good thing, but just as obviously it is not synonymous with spiritual maturity. Excessive attention to length of sobriety can distract us from paying attention to and understanding the direction we should be taking on our spiritual journeys.

Clarifying that direction is not a one-time thing. An AA does not sit down and say "Aha! This is what a mature, joyous spiritual life looks like! Let's draw up a map and go there." One sets out for the Promised Land not knowing where or even what it is, but certain that there is something out there worth reaching and that the Steps can act as a compass. This faith, this openness to the world, is essential. Predefining your spiritual goals in any detail leads to spiritual disaster. I'm reminded of a story from The Spirituality of Imperfection about an encounter with a monk on Mount Athos.

He was in a very bad state, very dark, very bitter, very angry. When asked what was the matter he said, "Look at me; I've been here for thirty-eight years, and I have not yet attained pure prayer." And this other fellow on the pilgrimage was saying how sad he thought this was.

Another man present said, "It's a sad story all right, but the sadness consists in the fact that after thirty-eight years in a monastery he's still interested in pure prayer."

I can imagine that monk as a young man entering the monastery and, having heard of 'pure prayer', setting out to achieve it. That was not his mistake. His mistake was not being open to learning on the journey, to realizing that 'pure prayer' should not be a goal but a direction and that continuing to pursue the goals of one's spiritual infancy leads to an infantile spirituality.

Perhaps, if we can concentrate on the journey itself and its increasingly refined direction, if we can free ourselves from running toward spiritual mirages, we can avoid the frustration that can lead to relapse after 1, 5, 10 or whatever 'milestone' year of sobriety and we can continue joyfully on our spiritual way.