Small deceptions work like a narcotic, making us feel nicely respectable. Especially in church.
I staggered through my house that morning, knowing I was out of coffee. I took multiple trips around the house looking for my shoes, finally settled for outrageously large climbing boots, then took multiple trips looking for my keys. I finally jumped on my motorcycle—adrenaline is a good substitute for endorphins when you get older—and broke many laws getting to the local caffeine clinic. Upon arriving I had the sinking realization that my man-purse was not in my backpack. At this point all my training as a contemplative was out the window.
The early history of Alcoholics Anonymous has always fascinated me, so I was eager to see the much heralded new documentary Bill W.