Just like the addicts and alcoholics who attend them, meetings come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. A variety of formats dictate who shares what and for how long. I once attended a meeting there the topic was “sharing,”—one hour devoted to the debate on whether it was better to share in a meeting or just listen. What a shitty meeting that was.
I prefer meetings that offer a range of experiences—from the driveling confusion of a newcomer, to the stoic musings of an old-timer. I think a good meeting bridges that cavernous divide between the problem and the solution. That way, those who are seeking answers are rewarded, and those who are still dwelling in the problem have a reason to come back.
After the topic of “to share or not to share” hijacked the meeting, it became clear the hour would not be spent focused on either the problem of addiction or the solution, but instead somewhere in the hazy gray area of self-conscious indulgence. Really, who gives a shit if you share or don’t share?
The most common meeting format I’ve experienced is open-forum, where people share when they want, without a leader to call on them. Some folks in recovery just like to share because they love the sound of their own voice (I often fall in this category, myself). I usually feel compelled to share because something is on my mind, not because I need to get something off my chest.
The open-forum format is flawed because it doesn’t force the newcomer or unwilling sharer to speak up. If the sharing is compulsory around a circle, for example, the person who truly needs to share will be forced to, or at least he will be forced to introduce himself and identify himself as a person in recovery. Early on, this was what I needed. I wouldn’t have shared if I weren’t forced to.
Just as there is no perfect way to recover, there is no perfect way to format a meeting. If shares are forced, it may scare the newcomer off. And people who want to share know they will get a turn, so they can focus their attention on what is being said rather than on what they will say when it is their turn.
This last point was the central debate in the meeting I attended on sharing. Was it better to sit back and listen to other people share, or was it better to share yourself and add to the meeting? If you think this debate sounds like a waste of time, you know exactly how I felt about the discussion. What I would have shared, if I weren’t too stubborn to contribute to a meeting I resented, was that it’s always good to share, even if it’s a brief check-in. By sharing, you are forced to listen to the topic and relate it to your own experience.
Of course, the answer for us raving addicts and individualists lies in the middle ground of our extreme thinking. If you only go to a meeting to listen, you may never consider how the shares relate to you personally and the meeting instead becomes a source of entertainment or escape. You can receive that same sensation sitting through a movie. On the other extreme, if all you concern yourself with is what to share, you won’t hear the valuable experiences of other people, and you may fall victim to keeping up appearances in recovery rather than pursuing the truth through self-discovery.
After thinking about this debate for the duration of the meeting (and far too many hours afterward), I came to a simple conclusion: the debate reveals how recovery works. We listen to the experience of another sufferer. We relate it to our own lives—ideally without bitterness or envy—so we can apply that person’s experiences to our own. Then we share on that experience, personalizing another’s story into our own, turning the recovery process into one epic tale that we all contribute a chapter to.
What a beautiful thing it is to speak and to listen. Within an hour’s time, we take what others have to give and then give something that others have to take. The profound simplicity of recovery is what makes recovering such a profound journey. Rather than paying a clinical professional to wax arm-chair poetic on our woes, we throw ourselves into the fray with our fellow sufferers and find our own way out.
The very basics of recovery, as I understand it, is one alcoholic or addict communicating to another. After that interface, the opinions of “what recovery is” takes as many divergent paths as there are people to walk them. No matter which road you take, however, the need to recover with one another unites all of our programs.
All of these points were swirling around my head as I sat there listening to people extol the qualities of a good-listener or argue the need to always share what is on your mind. The meeting was an example of how a group of addicts can miss seeing the middle ground of it all—how recovery involves both listening and sharing in equal measure.
The best definition of meditation I know is listening, and the best definition of prayer I know is asking. I need to keep it simple like this whenever possible. This is why I love the way Anne Lamott describes the spiritual life in her book Travelling Mercies: “Here are the two best prayers I know: ‘Help me, help me, help me,’ and ‘thank you, thank you, thank you.’” We must ask for help in order to receive it just like we must listen in order to share, and share in order to listen.
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