When his business venture bombed out in Akron, and he had a dollar's worth of nickles he'd exchanged from a hotel bar to make a phone call, Bill Wilson was not working a program. At that point, there weren't any. He didn't practice the twelve-steps. There weren't any of those either. He was reaching out to another drunk, in order to keep himself from drinking. That original meeting with Dr. Bob, which was to be merely twenty minutes, turned into several hours, and several days. Guided by the hand of a power much bigger than any of us, it eventually grew into Alcoholics Anonymous.
Based on personal experiences with the Oxford groups, and a history of drunkeness, it would still be bold to assume that the first few hours of that original encounter between the two gentlemen were spent trading war stories, or mapping out a program for future alcoholics. Bill had about six months, and Bob, like a lot of us, had less than 24 hours under his belt and another drunk left in him. More than likely, they were united in one common unity—trying to stay sober. And that small spark that passed between the two of them that day, is the same one that we pass between each other to this day, every time a telephone is answered, or a outstretch hand is extended to a new person coming through the doors. Our program was, and still is, based on fellowship.
Early on, during one of those white-knuckle moments when nothing seemed to make any sense, and I was hanging on by my finger nails, I can remember seeing a sheet of paper with a list of phone numbers. After dialing a few, a fellow drunk answered. He was on vacation with his family at the beach, and it was if I could hear the surf in the background. He took the time to listen to me ramble on about some things, and said that he'd been exactly where I was. He asked me if I had a meeting schedule. Since a meeting was in less than two hours, I agreed that I would definitely be in that meeting. Looking back, I'm so grateful that somebody was on the other end of that phone. Not necessarily to coddle me as an alcoholic, or even berate me into submission, but to engage me with a form of humanity, that could have only been offered by another sober alcoholic that already had a program. One hammered out long ago, in a fellowship among the Oxford groups, and the two founders previously mentioned.
Using only the established program to stay sober results in isolation, while using the fellowship alone to stay sober results in losing out on both. It is not an either/or exclusive proposition. Once the two become separate entities, then I become separated from them. When the program cannot be worked over a cup of coffee, or a drunk cannot work through the steps during the course sharing in a meeting, the twain shall never meet, and we all lose. That isn't anyone's advice, or even my biased opinion. Its an indisputable fact.
Thanks for letting me share.
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