Alcoholics Anonymous

168. THIRTY YEARS IN RECOVERY

Well… 24 hours later than usual, but no matter. Here’s my yearly post –

I recall a day, actually the exact moment sometime back in the eighties when I made a decision that would change my life forever. I wanted to find out just how much I could drink and not have anyone suspect I was, in fact, totally hammered. Initially it was challenging and fun. Not only that, I was extremely successful, which fed my ego, the last thing in my life needing inflation. Even at the end of my “career” my own father was astonished when I told him I had a handle of rot gut vodka in me. He swore up and down he had no idea. This self-centered and highly dangerous game almost killed me. My closest colleagues had no idea the extent of my disease. I remained productive (at least at work), walked a straight line, and never slurred my speech. By the way, I’m not an idiot either, it’s very possible certain people knew my condition but were either hesitant or unfamiliar as how to approach me about addressing it. It was a game of deception, one that benefited no one whatsoever and, ultimately, it ended up harming countless innocent people. By the summer of 1994 my perception of reality was swiftly bending into the realm of torturous insanity, and the game became an unavoidable 24/7 nightmare. I was totally dependent on alcohol. Too much and I’d pass out, too little and I’d get the DTs.

I talk about my recovery many times on this blog, and to recap, I finally (and astonishingly) sobered up in the summer of 1995. July 28th to be exact. Strangely, in January of that same year I had made a vow to just die and get the pain and futility of my life over with. All I owned and earned was hopelessness. I felt I had no leverage to summon anything but oblivion, so I simply threw up my hands and waited for what I thought was going to be an inevitable outcome. I had no idea that being in a place of total surrender would invite the very thing that was missing from my life, guidance and direction offered and accepted without hesitation. I willingly put my faith and future into the hands and hearts of others. They say when the student is ready the teacher appears. As clichéd as it may sound, this was my experience. I walked into those early meetings a dry sponge. If it was suggested I did it. If it was directed, I did it. Some might suspect I would become a clone of the people who embraced me. Such was not the case. I took with gratitude the best they could give and shaped my own unique life. To this day I treasure and practice their gifts.

I’m glad my fate (and serendipitous faith) have steered me true. Three decades without a drop. It really does feel like I’ve lived two separate lives, and it does not feel like thirty years, thank God. It’s actually motivating that my self-spawned demons of the past are still easily heard and seen. It’s nice to be clear and focused about where I intend to progress, but there’s a strange comfort in constant recognition of what I don’t want, and that’s the greatest gift of life I possess.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

162. 29 YEARS IN RECOVERY

Twenty-nine years ago today I took my last drink, but twenty-nine years, four months, and nine days ago, when I was obviously feeling pretty lousy, I sat down and wrote myself a small letter. It was most likely during one of my countless ten-hour overnight janitorial shifts in either a Marshalls or TJ Maxx clothing store. Even though it’s been almost three decades back, I can still instantly access the pain of that time along with all the feelings of hopelessness I was drowning in.

One might think those memories would be a burden, nightmares meant to be left behind and never revisited, but that’s not the case. Those periods where my future was hanging by a thread continue even now to provide leverage that makes manufacturing my daily dose of gratitude all too easy.

The note I’m referencing was lost for almost twenty-seven years, and a long time passed where I’d forgotten about it. After writing it I carried it in my wallet and read it every day. Although it did not directly stop me from drinking, I do feel it planted a seed. That seed began to grow through a continued groping in the darkness looking for a way out. The missing element which completed my escape was surrender, and by surrender, I mean verbal surrender.

It might sound a bit too ‘metaphysical’ for some here, but I really do believe writing down what we want AND eventually saying aloud that you’ll do anything to find salvation and absolution are two of the most powerful tools we humans have at our disposal. I’ve experienced it as well as witnessed it. 

The letter is a bit difficult to actually read, so here’s the text –

March 18, 1995

The next time I feel the urge to drink I promise to sit down and read this. I feel like shit, I’m depressed, and I want to die. I’m losing sleep and I’m losing my mind. I’m dragging everybody down with me. I can’t eat right and I’m hurting myself. I must change the way I think. I must turn to God and ask whatever is necessary that I may live again before I die. I’m tired of being scared and forgetting things. There is always something better to do than drink. I’m wasting money and I’m pushing my luck. I don’t talk to my friends anymore. I’m ashamed. I want to like myself again. I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of making excuses.

Reading this now, 29 years sober, I’m grateful I can still touch the past, for without it I wouldn’t have the added value that makes today priceless.

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With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

158. DOMINO PROBLEMS

I know the burden of problems, the feeling of a hundred thousand overwhelming issues weighing down upon the spirit, crushing optimism and reinforcing hopelessness. When we are buried in the massive wreckage of addiction, the last thing we want to be reminded of is that all the carnage we’ve caused is irreparable. As a result we keep going, refusing to acknowledge our actions, intentionally ignorant of direction, apathetic to outcome. We run faster and with increased blindness towards an inevitable conclusion, oblivion.

This oblivion we sprint towards has, in its wake, collateral damage of a horrific nature, and our suspicions of this ruin ensure we arrogantly remain blindly on target. Even if we did glance back it would only serve to speed up our irrational resolve. The suicidal vehicle we become does its best to avoid even the slightest awareness of its consequences, and it only vaguely knows its final destination. Ironically, in this situation, we’ve convinced ourselves that self-termination is more welcome than letting the past catch up to us.

This belief, this self-fulfilling prophecy that corrective actions are futile is a conveniently egotistical lie. The proof that this point of view is indeed a lie presents itself in the lives of those who have had the humility to do nothing more than take their foot off the gas and ask someone else to drive. When I stopped drinking in 1995 I was only weeks from death. Weeks. My guess is I had maybe three months left at most. Even I, twenty-eight plus years later, am flabbergasted I’m alive, let alone productive, responsible, and at peace. The truth is I’m NOT one in a million, I’m one OF millions. I’ve gone from the center of the earth to the surface of the moon, and oddly, the trip wasn’t all that difficult.

Yes, the wreckage of our aftermath I spoke of earlier must be dealt with once our course corrects, but it is often not the overwhelming task it appears to be, and there’s an easy way to illustrate this point. Think of our past difficulties as if we were setting up dominos, only the longer we line them up, the larger and closer together they get. It might start with being late more than normal and proceed into treating people rudely, then avoiding debts, and then our health deteriorates, and finally DUI’s and jail time. While this example of a timeline may sound stereotypically simple, the point is still easily understood. The behaviors, unfortunately, are not separate. Once we start, we accumulate patterns, they compound and gain negative power, meaning by the time we are at our most destructive, we are continuing everything all at once. What was once a small storm has turned into a hurricane.

So what happens if we turn around with both courage and guidance and push back on the biggest domino? What takes place if we face our largest set of problems first and tackle them? Well, it eventually loses balance and topples into the one behind it, which, by the way, is smaller. Then THAT one falls into the next one which is even smaller, and so on. The point is that if we correct the largest things first, then by attachment we are on our way to attending to almost everything else. Keep in mind I said they ALSO get closer the bigger they are, so there may come a time when the smallest ones may need a separate nudge.

Let’s illustrate a less intimidating example. Dropping a two pack a day smoking habit, which costs someone an average of six-hundred dollars a month (or over seven thousand dollars a year), not only increases health benefits, but adds funds to take care of possibly neglected bills. In turn this could ease mental anguish and lead to a better nights sleep which produces more energy to potentially keep the house clean and walk the dog. All this comes about from doing the big stuff first.

I get the tendency to look at everything as a group and see a monster we’ve created that’s just too big to handle, but I PROMISE it’s an illusion, one that the ego keeps in place so we have continued excuses for destructive behavior.

At the end of July 1995 I owed thousands from bounced checks. I had burned bridges that needed to be totally rebuilt. My health was, at the time, at a new low, and I had nothing in my future to entice me to keep going. You may not believe this, but it took less than one year of facing my demons to virtually erase all my pervious iniquities. One thing handled led to three, which took care of ten, and then fifty, and so on.  

Keep this in mind. There are legions of people that were worse than you (and me) who have managed to emerge from the dark spiral of desperation and live lives of high value. They stand as steadfast examples of bravery over cowardice, and modesty over vanity. Let their path inspire yours.

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With Love and compassion,

Daniel Andrew Lockwood

157. 28 YEARS IN RECOVERY

It’s been an odd year. My last job was so involved that I’ve had little time to attend to my blog. If you’re from Denver, or you’re a South Park fan, then you know about Casa Bonita, which is really a bit of an indoor carnival/Mexican restaurant. If memory serves, it seats up to seven hundred at a time, so it’s damn big. Since the previous menu needed purged and badly upgraded a world-class chef was also brought on board to revamp the menu. Both her skills and her personality are impressive. The food is indeed much better as are the inner workings of the establishment itself. From May of last year to June of this year I was the plumbing foreman in charge of the remodel. We had to sign NDA’s (understandably) and other paperwork that would allow the creators, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, to turn us into cartoon characters if they so choose. It was a huge challenge and I’m glad it’s over.

During this time I’ve been dealing with hyper increased arthritis, which my rheumatologist says I have in every joint now. I can even feel it in my jaw which clicks and crunches, but thank God it doesn’t keep me from being a blabbermouth, at least not yet. Two weeks ago I went in for a pro-op to get my left knee replaced on August 2nd (the right one was done a year and a half ago) only to find out, in their words, I have massive blood clots in both lungs and behind my left knee. The blood thinners I’m on are causing migraines which are pretty disabling, but they are getting better. Also, because of the clots I have trouble breathing which adds to my energy level being pretty low. For now (but not forever, I like to work too much) I’m on short term disability which is a nice safety net. 

One thing’s for sure, other people are definitely going though much worse than me, in fact the weekend I went into the hospital a beloved coworker was in a horrific motorcycle accident. He’s alive but his injuries are extensive. Another of my coworkers has cancer. They are on my mind all the time.

If all these events are a test to see if I’ll turn back to the bottle, then I’m winning hands down. This path never enters my mind as a way to escape. Last night I had a lucid dream where I was using again. I was lying in bed, knowing I was ‘awake’ and asking myself if my wife could smell my breath while I tried to go to the bathroom without looking like I was drunk. These episodes feel as real as anything in life and it always takes me a while to shake off the illusion. I’ve said it before, my occasional nightmares of slipping are a precious gift that keeps the horror close, even twenty-eight years later.

My wife bought me the item in the picture above. It’s nice she cares and celebrates with me.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

153. TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS IN RECOVERY

When I turned 27 years old, I stood at the edge of a cliff. It would be three more years before I sobered up, and the time between the worst of my addiction and my surprising salvation was to be hell on Earth. I started breaking down with tremendous strides, both physically and mentally. My pace back then was a handle of vodka a day. I did, however, manage to keep working, though looking back, I don’t know how. My boss (who I’m still friends with today, go figure) was either oddly sympathetic or just didn’t care. In any case what was required of me, I accomplished for the most part, so repercussions were rare. Since I was a one-man crew and no one else relied on me showing up, I would often blow off my duties in favor of staying home and getting hammered. Putting off my workload was rather easy since it required no sacrifice (other than broken expectations) on the part of the customer, so this “logic” justified my ever-increasing incompetence.

During this period I was sent north to scrub and wax a TJ Maxx in Fort Collins, one of many such similar trips. I usually felt like garbage, but this night was especially tough. After being left alone to my duties I decided to call a hotline looking for help, mental help, and all they did was repeatedly ask me if I was going to hurt myself. I said no several times, but they were persistent with the question. They ultimately asked me if there was anything in the store I could hurt myself with, which startled me. I remember saying I suppose I could take a running start with my head down at a brick wall. When I told them that, they called the police department. Luckily the front doors were locked with just a turn bolt inside (they normally were keyed on both sides) and after talking for a couple of minutes through the glass, I reluctantly let them in. They didn’t officially arrest me, but they did shuttle me to the station after contacting the store manager.

I had acting normal down to a science even when I was falling over inside, and they were surprised to meet with someone who was outwardly, quite calm and stable. I passed a breathalyzer so there was nothing they could charge me with. We talked about my issues but little else came of the incident. They were kind, and after a few hours they brought me back to my truck and I drove home. Looking back these days, I understand why the cops were called. The person on the other end of the phone could not act unless I was a danger to myself, so they played the script they had. I disagreed with their motives, but to them they were warranted.

The horrors of the days to come couldn’t have been described by Dante’. My trips to the bathroom were always a bloody mess, literally. The first time I turned the toilet red I almost passed out from the sheer sight of it. The second time, I didn’t care. My urine was consistently pink, and I could spit blood. Nose bleeds were common too. My bouts of dipteral tremens were exceedingly common, and blackouts, once something I had sidestepped, became the norm. How I managed to live through those times could only be described as astonishing. How I got out was miraculous.

Today I celebrate my 27th year in recovery. Twenty-seven years ago I was a liability to anyone who knew me, and truthfully, to most people I met casually as well. On the 28th of July in 1995 I took my last drink and have been actively in front of my demons since. I have so many things to be grateful for these days and constant practice of this attitude feeds both continued resolve and a life of abundance. There’s nothing on earth I would trade my journey for.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

149. GODSHOTS PODCAST WITH LYDIA CORNELL #3 –

 Lydia Cornell 

Here is the third podcast with Miss Cornell. Although it is in video format it does not need to be watched, nothing visually presented is necessary to the content, though I must admit, Lydia is a lot more pleasant to look at then I am…

This is the third one  I’ve done with her. The major topic of our discussion is focused on her passion for what she has labeled as “Godshots” ™ which are coincidences that are highly spiritual in nature.  

Please take a little time to find out more about Lydia. She’s an enthusiastic woman who really does want the best for everyone.  

Links to referenced pages below are in bold, just point and click.  

For those who might recognize the name, Lydia Cornell is a star of the highly successful sitcom from the eighties, “Too close for Comfort”.  Her name under the picture is also a link to her IMDB page. In addition to an acting career, she also runs two blogs, PoliticallyHot and GodShots. Her resume’ includes a wide range of projects, talents, and passions from writing to mentoring and even stand-up comedy. Please visit her links to learn more.

We originally connected on another web site known as Quora. We have common ground in recovery, and it’s here we began communicating our enthusiasm for helping others.   

Listen to previous podcasts by Lydia here.

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Comments are welcome, I will answer in kind. 

With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

 

147. A BLOODY CHILDHOOD

My childhood was lived in fear. I never had any siblings so I was sole the victim of my mother’s rage several times a week. Many times she would set an alarm clock next to the counter where I was washing dishes and if it went off before I was done, she’d start beating me with stretched out wire coat hangers at the sink. If I missed even one speck of anything, same consequence. I was screwed either way. Yes, I’ll admit I was indeed slow and I hated doing it. Gosh, I wonder why? When she was too lazy to vacuum, she used to make me crawl around picking things out of carpet while she pointed out what would catch her eye, and if I missed something, WHAM! Usually my whippings would not commence unless she made me strip totally naked first. As a little kid, even as young as kindergarten, I was often left home alone, and on the way out the door mother would take great pleasure in turning around to say, “When we get back you’re going to get a spanking.” The waiting was always worse than the actual incident; mental torture combined with physical pain.

All too often I’d go to school bruised, bleeding through my clothing. No one ever noticed that I knew of. I was the primary target of her mental instability and usually for some sort lousy excuse like “You’re not like other children, you’re much worse.” At the time I thought I actually was the catalyst of her behavior. As a result I spent a good deal of my childhood in introspection. Looking back all I can think is, wow. I was six, seven, eight, nine years old, who does this to a little kid? I was fed, clothed, housed, and so on, but to be honest, I never felt loved.

By default my father was just as guilty as my mother because although he was aware of what was happening, he never tried to stop anything. I didn’t realized this until it was pointed out in my early thirties. THAT sucked.

It’s a good thing my parents never had more kids. Who knows how they would have turned out.

There’s no doubt I was different and weird, still am, proudly I might add. Even as a boy my thoughts and behaviors were odd. “I’m learning patience, I’m learning what NOT to do to others when I get older, I’m finding other ways to eke out joy and peace from other avenues.” I was admittedly prone to be self-centered, loud, and pushy. These were traits I (hopefully) eventually grew out of as I became more and more self-aware.

Now, my life was NOT constant torture. I got birthday and Christmas presents. I had a few friends. I never went hungry. My parents did fight at the top of their lungs at least once a week, but they did not do drugs or drink, and of the two channels that we could get in the mountains, at least one that came in clear got my go-to, get away from reality show five days a week, Star Trek!

For years I blamed my adult misfortunes on a messed-up childhood. When I finally sobered up in 1995, my recovery came with a gift that allowed my burden to no longer be a matter of any consequence. I stopped blaming the past and started owning the present.

There’s another definition for removing blame from our lives it’s called…

FORGIVENESS.

Read on with a little courage and you just might find some peace.

Now, forgiveness is NOT what most people define it to be. It’s not saying you’re okay with what the other person did. It IS saying that you’re going to simply drop all those feelings of bitterness, hostility, rage, angst, revenge, darkness, and so on you may have toward someone. Why? Because no matter what, no one can take away your pain, no matter how much they may want to, no matter how much you want them to, you are the one who must drop it. You are the only one with the power to let go of the feelings that are ruining your life and giving you cancer.

Get it now? They cannot feel or remove YOUR pain, ever. No one is capable of that no matter how much of an empath they claim to be.

Good. I’m happy you understand.

My parents were, and still are, just screwed up people, and that’s all. In the middle of a shared insanity they had a kid who was caught in between. When I realized this it broke my heart. I have pity for them now. Their pain is something I do not have the power to remove. I wish I could.

You know, I was drinking two-fifths of vodka a day in the mid-nineties and it eventually caused an aneurysm while I was driving, yet I’m still here and so are you.

I have a great life. I have a beautiful wife who also is my best friend, a very good, well-paying job, a nice home, my credit rating is about as high as it can get, we take nice vacations, and we have plans for the future that include all kinds of pleasant things. Many years ago I would have used a gun on myself had I owned one. Glad I didn’t.

All the miracles and gifts I’ve received since my mental rebirth have been because I refuse to blame anyone for anything in my life anymore. NO ONE AT ALL. By the way, this includes everything labeled both good and bad.

Can people get over childhood neglect and abuse? Yes, and when done right it’ll propel one to the stratosphere of achievement.

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With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

144. PATIENCE

I’m NOT accident prone, but since I am in construction, I’ve had my share of mishaps. I wear my personal protective equipment diligently, but no matter the caution I take, things do occasionally happen. Cuts, bumps, scrapes, punctures, twisted ankles and knees, smashed fingers, minor burns, and so are on the usual menu of occasional injuries. There have been a few fairly bad ones over the years, one involved tripping and falling plus a couple of major lacerations on separate occasions. I will say it’s been a long time since I had an incident that needs to be reported, and I intend to keep my track record clean. ALL of these events, however, have one thing in common. At the time of occurrence, I had become frustrated or lost my temper, mostly because I wanted to speed things up.

In my history lack of patience has always led to unwanted outcomes. One might think my experience with this personal truth would keep me from repeating the equation. Sadly, my resolve is not as disciplined as it should be. I do indeed become agitated from time to time, but my emotional state is nowhere near anything that could be labeled as theatrical, though I’m sure some of my colleagues who have witnessed such outbursts were, nonetheless, highly entertained. Fortunately my (negative) behavior has waned as I’ve aged, and I’m pleased to say it’s been some time since I’ve pulled the trigger.

My occasional lack of impatience has clearly been a major catalyst leading to an overabundance of disappointing results. Since I’m aware this is true, it then stands to reason exercising the opposite behavior should reap highly beneficial rewards, and it has. Calm dedication has been the most productive energy I’ve ever expressed. Everything which has come to me and made my world a better place always has had its roots in consistency.

On what would seem like the other hand, one of my root beliefs is to let go of what I’m driving myself into the ground trying to manifest. This initially comes across as a dichotomy to my resolve, it isn’t. Letting go is NOT giving up. Giving up is being in your boat lost on the ocean and deciding to poke a hole in the bottom, then sabotaging the radio, and finally tossing all provisions overboard. Giving up is suicide, so please don’t do this. Letting go is being in your boat, admitting you’re lost on the ocean, finding an unknown port, and deciding to hire a person you’ve never met to take you somewhere you’ve never been. This requires a ton of faith. It’s still YOUR boat, make no mistake, you’ve just… let go. What I’m saying here is, letting go IS a form of patience; maybe the highest form, because it requires the total absence of ego or self.

In A.A. there are two dominant sayings, “Let go, let God” and “One day at a time”. If you’re not a “God” person, an agnostic, then “Let go” all by itself will suffice. In any case, these short philosophies are designed to promote consistent action tempered with patience. When we ask for help and react with tolerance and gratitude, the world will eventually roll at our feet.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood


143. 26 YEARS SOBER

When I stopped drinking, I found I was dying of thirst. Yes, I had a temporary longing for what I’d left behind, but this wasn’t the REAL issue; my mind was suddenly parched. Just as stated in my entry, 140. A BRAND NEW LIBRARY, I went full bore into the ocean of new information, and while I spent my early days on the beaches of exotic mental locations, these days I find my wanderings to be less adventurous.

The winter of my life is nearing, I’ll be 57 this year, but this doesn’t mean I’m approaching the end, it simply means my outlook has shifted to different priorities. I no longer see the world as something to be conquered, I do not see life as a competition, and I certainly have no need to prove anything to anyone other than myself. That being said, I do still have high aspirations, and when I die, I plan to leave behind a full calendar of appointments and pursuits. What does bother me a little is my speed has slowed somewhat. I watch TV when I don’t need to, I waste time when I could be making the next move on my chessboard, and worst of all, I talk about what I want to do more than just doing it.

Time to shift gears.

For some reason I’ve begun to equate comfort with peace, and while I’ll always seek peace, it’s not necessarily incompatible with occasional doses of chaos. A comfortable life is, in a word, boring, and I’ve become way too comfortable, predictable, and repetitive. I’m NOT looking for discomfort, it’s a life of surprise, stimulation, and challenge which has been missing for far too long. Anticipation and excitement, in the proper proportions, are wonderful ways to spice up life. There’s nothing wrong with status quo if it’s what someone wants, but it’s not for me.

Today marks the completion of my 26th year of recovery and to celebrate I’m making a resolution to be in a much different, much better, and more rewarding place a year from now.

We’ll see in a year if my resolve has been strong enough. Don’t bet against me.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

140. A BRAND-NEW LIBRARY
 

I had no idea what taking out the trash would do. All I really knew is I was done with my old perspectives and expectations. I gathered up everything I used to believe in and hauled it to the cosmic dumpster, and as you can speculate, it took several trips.  At any rate there I was at the age of thirty, starting over from scratch. The vacuum it created surprised me. All of the sudden I was in possession of an empty house. Fortunately, I immediately accepted the idea of being open to criticism, especially from those who obviously had something I wanted. Admittedly it never felt good, but I was convinced my old ways were suicidal.  One might think this would leave me hollow when in fact it turned me into a magnet, a sponge as it were. There was obviously little for me to cling to so I tossed out my desire to defend myself as well. The freedom and thirst my purging left in its wake were overwhelming sensations, and I was quickly determined to replenish my rooms with furnishings of discipline and quality, and the first one I wanted to rebuild was my library. Other than working with my mentor and following his suggestions without question (since all of my old habits and directions were out of some nightmarish Dr. Seuss travel guide) I soon found myself buried in books. Alan Watts, Wayne Dyer, Tony Robbins were common authors, and titles like “The Peter Pan Syndrome” and “Stage II Recovery” by Earnie Larson also made their way into my mental athenaeum.

My collection grew rather quickly and along the path I discovered a new way to absorb information. I drove a lot in those days (still do as a matter of fact) and instead of having the radio droning away in the background (playing songs I no longer cared about) my attention turned towards audio versions of what I’d been drawn to study and explore. I read a ton as a youth, but most of that was fiction. Now with renewed zest I turned to unexplored categories. Philosophy, religion, and self-help became my go-to focus. Slowly, like a massive puzzle coming into focus, MY picture, my understanding of how life needed to proceed for me became clearer and honestly, more beautiful, more synchronous.

My first excursions into the world of spoken books was rather antiquated. Cassettes often lay scattered in my cab along with a crappy radio to play them on, but play them I did. As my funds and accessibility to better technology increased I acquired CD’s. Eventually I purchased an iPod into which I crammed hundreds of titles. These days I use an iPod Touch, and for good reason. I’ve found nothing better to carry and play books on. There are services I could pay for, but they are extremely limited to accessibility and all too often they offer only abridged versions of what I’m looking for. Not only that but I already own a ton of hard copies and this acts as my own foolproof replacement policy. Also, once on my iPod I can backup what I’ve downloaded to a cloud. In any case, it’s extremely easy to use, durable, and portable.

It’s unfortunate, but many books are simply not yet available in audio format, so a more tactile approach is required. That being said, sometimes there’s no substitute for the feel and absorption of the written word in an old-fashioned manner. It can be an almost meditative experience, spiritual if nothing else, at least for me. Another downside is some seminars I want still exist only in cassette format, and while this is annoying, at least they do exist.

For those who are looking for a jump-start on some decent titles, both books AND seminars, here is a list of my favorites.

Think and Grow Rich – Napoleon Hill

This is the granddaddy of self-help literature. The title is deceptive for those with shallow aspirations. Some of the writing (first published in 1937) is a bit off-color, but it’s said with good intentions nonetheless. This is a GREAT place to start a foundation of building a solid and rewarding life.

Alcoholics Anonymous – AKA – The Big Book

I read this book twice a year at least, and I’ve been in recovery for twenty-five plus years now. For those who are in the grip of addiction AND are willing to admit it, this is a good source of information. Anyone who has gone through the program is going to argee it can actually apply to anyone, not just addicts. Once you get past the stumbling blocks of what a “higher power” is, the doors open. Different versions are written for different addictions, but the message is the same.

Man’s Search for Meaning – Viktor Frankl

First published in 1946 this book was written by a concentration camp survivor and is often referred to as the third school of psychology past the teachings of Freud and Jung. It is both depressing and highly uplifting. Hard to read, hard to put down. If you think you have a horrible life, your wrong. After finishing this tiny book your outlook will improve significantly over what you have as well as what you may have overlooked. It’s a truly inspirational book worth multiple readings.

There’s a Spiritual Solution to Every Problem – Wayne W. Dyer

Anyone who reads this blog knows this man is my main (but NOT singular) source of inspiration. I Love all his books, but this is my favorite. Keep in mind spiritual means “of the spirit”. Religious connections are not necessarily applicable here, although some religious beliefs are referred to within the pages. There are two stories on the audio version that make me cry every time.

Personal Power II – Anthony Robbins

Anthony Robbins? That really tall goofy (but good looking) dude who sells self-improvement programs in old infomercials? Yup. Seriously, this man is light years past my spot on the food chain and he has the genre’ dialed in. I’m not belittling myself here, my goal has always been to encourage a first step, shining a light on the doors people are looking for. He, on the other hand, offers up a detailed roadmap to your wildest fantasies and his lifestyle matches his beliefs and ethics. This program, which is quite involved (and a bit aged now) is right on target. He’s engaging, entertaining, and brings real tools to the table anyone can pick up and use. There’s usually tons of his stuff on eBay, so go that route first. Also check Craigslist in your area. This is NOT a book, it’s a seminar.

I have many other authors in my collection, Deepak Chopra, The 14th Dalai Lama, Louise Hay, Marianne Williamson, and so on. Yes, even the Bible is in my iPod. I’m not pushing anything here, just sharing. If you really want a better life there are so many choices. Please don’t think you have no route, you’d be surprised just how accessible it is with a minimal investment of money and time. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a good trip, especially when it leads somewhere you’ve never been?

Please follow my blog, comment and share as you wish.  Comments are welcome, I will answer in kind. With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood