"Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with 
God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the
power to carry that out."

	Prayer and meditation are our principal means of conscious contact with God.
	We A.A.'s are active folk, enjoying the satisfactions of dealing with the realities of
life, usually for the first time in our lives, and strenuously trying to help the next alcoholic
who comes along.  So it isn't surprising that we often tend to slight serious meditation and
prayer as something not really necessary.  To be sure, we feel it is something that might
help us to meet an occasional emergency, but at first many of us are apt to regard it as a
somewhat mysterious skill of the clergy, from which we may hope to get a secondhand
benefit.  Or perhaps we don't believe in these things at all.
	To certain newcomers and to those one-time agnostics who still cling to the A.A.
group as their higher power, claims for the power of prayer may, despite all the logic and
experience in proof of it, still be unconvincing or quite objectionable.  Those of us who
once felt this way can certainly understand and sympathize.  We well remember how
something deep inside us kept rebelling against the idea of bowing before any God.  Many
of us had strong logic, too, which "proved" there was no God whatever.  What about all
the accidents, sickness, cruelty, and injustice in the world?  What about all those unhappy
lives which were the direct result of unfortunate birth and uncontrollable circumstances? 
Surely there could be no justice in this scheme of things, and therefore no God at all.
	Sometimes we took a slightly different tack.  Sure, we said to ourselves, the hen
probably did come before the egg.  No doubt the universe had a "first cause" of some sort,
the God of the Atom, maybe, hot and cold by turns.  But certainly there wasn't any
evidence of a God who knew or cared about human beings.  We liked A.A. all right, and
were quick to say that it had done miracles.  But we recoiled from meditation and prayer
as obstinately as the scientist who refused to perform a certain experiment lest it prove a
pet theory wrong.  Of course we finally did experiment, and when unexpected results
followed, we felt different;  in fact we knew different;  and so we were sold on meditation
and prayer.  And that, we have found, can happen to anybody who tries.  It has been well
said that "almost the only scoffers at prayer are those who never tried it enough."
	Those of us who have come to make regular use of prayer would no more do
without it than we would refuse air, food, or sunshine.  And for the same reason.  When
we refuse air, light, or food, the body suffers.  And when we turn away from meditation
and prayer, we likewise deprive our minds, our emotions, and our intuitions of vitally
needed support.  As the body can fail its purpose for lack of nourishment, so can the soul. 
We all need the light of God's reality, the nourishment of God's strength, and the
atmosphere of God's grace.  To an amazing extent the facts of A.A. life confirm this
ageless truth.
	There is a direct linkage among self-examination, meditation, and prayer.  Taken
separately, these practices can bring much relief and benefit.  But when they are logically
related and interwoven, the result is an unshakable foundation for life.  Now and then we
may be granted a glimpse of that ultimate reality which is God's domain.  And we will be
comforted and assured that our own destiny in that realm will be secure for so long as we
try, however falteringly, to find and do the will of our own Creator.
	As we have seen, self-searching is the means by which we bring new vision, action,
and grace to bear upon the dark and negative side of our natures.  It is a step in the
development of that kind of humility that makes it possible for us to receive God's help. 
yet it is only a step.  We will want to go further.
	We will want the good that is in us all, even in the worst of us, to flower and to
grow.  Most certainly we shall need bracing air and an abundance of food.  But first of all
we shall want sunlight;  nothing much can grow in the dark.  Meditation is our step out
into the sun.  How, then, shall we meditate?
	The actual experience of meditation and prayer across the centuries is, of course,
immense.  The world's libraries and places of worship are a treasure trove for all seekers. 
It is hoped that every A.A. who has a religious connection which emphasizes meditation
will return to the practice of that devotion as never before.  But what about the rest of us
who, less fortunate, don't even know how to begin?
	Well, we might start like this.  First let's look at a really good prayer.  We won't
have far to seek;  the great women and men of all religions have left us a wonderful
supply.  Here let us consider one that is a classic.
	Its author was someone who for several hundred years now has been rated as a
saint.  We won't be biased or scared off by that fact, because although not an alcoholic our
friend did, like us, go through the emotional wringer.  And on coming out the other side of
that painful experience, this prayer was an expression of what such a person could then
see, feel, and wish to become:
	"God, make me a channel of Thy peace -- that where there is hatred, I may bring
love -- that where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness -- that where there
is discord, I may bring harmony -- that where there is error, I may bring truth -- that where
there is doubt, I may bring faith -- that where there is despair, I may bring hope -- that
where there are shadows, I may bring light -- that where there is sadness, I may bring joy.
God, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted -- to understand, than
to be understood -- to love, than to be loved.  For it is by self-forgetting that one finds.  It
is by forgiving that one is forgiven.  It is by dying that one awakens to Eternal Life. 
Amen."
	As beginners in meditation, we might now reread this prayer several times very
slowly, savoring every word and trying to take in the deep meaning of each phrase and
idea.  It will help if we can drop all resistance to what our friend says.  For in meditation,
debate has no place.  We rest quietly with the thoughts of someone who knows, so that
we may experience and learn.
	As though lying upon a sunlit beach, let us relax and breathe deeply of the spiritual
atmosphere with which the grace of this prayer surrounds us.  Let us become willing to
partake and be strengthened and lifted up by the sheer spiritual power, beauty, and love of
which these magnificent words are the carriers.  Let us look now upon the sea and ponder
what its mystery is;  and let us lift our eyes to the far horizon, beyond which we shall seek
all those wonders still unseen.
	"Shucks!" says somebody.  "This is nonsense.  it isn't practical."
	When such thoughts break in, we might recall, a little ruefully, how much store we
used to set by imagination as it tried to create reality out of bottles.  Yes, we reveled in
that sort of thinking, didn't we?  And though sober nowadays, don't we often try to do
much the same thing?  Perhaps our trouble was not that we used our imagination.  Perhaps
the real trouble was our almost total inability to point imagination toward the right
objectives.  There's nothing the matter with constructive imagination;  all sound
achievement rests upon it.  After all, no one can build a house before first envisioning a
plan for it.  Well, meditation is like that, too;  it helps to envision our spiritual objective
before we try to move toward it.  So let's get back to that sunlit beach -- or to the plains
or to the mountains, if you prefer.
	When, by such simple devices, we have placed ourselves in a mood in which we
can focus undisturbed on constructive imagination, we might proceed like this:
	Once more we read our prayer, and again try to see what its inner essence is.  We'll
think now about the one who first uttered the prayer.  First of all was the desire to become
a "channel."  Then a request for the grace to bring love, forgiveness, harmony, truth, faith,
hope, light, and joy to every human being possible.
	Next came the expression of an aspiration and a hope for the person praying.  The
author hoped, God willing, to be able to find some of these treasures, too.  This would be
attempted by what is called self-forgetting.  What  does "self-forgetting" mean, and how
can it be accomplished?  
	The author thought it better to give comfort than to receive it;  better to
understand than to be understood;  better to forgive than to be forgiven.
	This much could be a fragment of what is called meditation, perhaps our very first
attempt at a mood, a flier into the realm of spirit, if you like.  It ought to be followed by a
good look at where we stand now, and a further look at what might happen in our lives
were we able to move closer to the ideal we have been trying to glimpse.  Meditation is
something which can always be further developed.  It has no boundaries, either of width or
height.  Aided by such instruction and example as we can find, it is essentially an individual
adventure, something which each one of us works out in our own way.  But its object is
always the same:  to improve our conscious contact with God, and with God's grace,
wisdom, and love.  And let's always remember that meditation is in reality intensely
practical.  One of its first fruits is emotional balance.  With it we can broaden and deepen
the channel between ourselves and God as we understand God.
	Now, what of prayer?  Prayer is the raising of the heart and mind to God -- and in
this sense it includes meditation.  How may we go about it?  And how does it fit in with
meditation?  Prayer, as commonly understood, is a petition to God.  Having opened our
channel as best we can, we try to ask for those right things of which we and others are in
the greatest need.  And we think that the whole range of our needs is well defined by that
part of Step Eleven which says:  ". . . knowledge of God's will for us and the power to
carry that out."  A request for this fits in any part of our day.
	In the morning we think of the hours to come.  Perhaps we think of our day's work
and the chances it may afford us to be useful and helpful, or of some special problem that
it may bring.  Possibly today will see a continuation of a serious and as yet unresolved
problem left over from yesterday.  Our immediate temptation will be to ask for specific
solutions to specific problems, and for the ability to help other people as we have already
thought they should be helped.  In that case, we are asking God to do it our way. 
Therefore, we ought to consider each request carefully to see what its real merit is.  Even
so, when making specific requests, it will be well to add to each one of them this
qualification:  ". . . if it be Thy will."  We ask simply that throughout the day God place in
us the best understanding of God's will that we can have for that day, and that we be given
the grace by which we may carry it out.
	As the day goes on, we can pause where situations must be met and decisions
made, and renew the simple request:  "Thy will, not mine, be done."  If at these points our
emotional disturbance happens to be great, we will more surely keep our balance,
provided we remember, and repeat to ourselves, a particular prayer or phrase that has
appealed to us in our reading or meditation.  Just saying it over and over will often enable
us to clear a channel choked up with anger, fear, frustration, or misunderstanding, and
permit us to return to the surest help of all -- our search for God's will, not our own, in the
moment of stress.  At these critical moments, if we remind ourselves that "it is better to
comfort than to be comforted, to understand than to be understood, to love than to be
loved," we will be following the intent of Step Eleven.
	Of course, it is reasonable and understandable that the question is often asked: 
"Why can't we take a specific and troubling dilemma straight to God, and in prayer secure
from God sure and definite answers to our requests?"
	This can be done, but it has hazards.  We have seen A.A.'s ask with much
earnestness and faith for God's explicit guidance on matters ranging all the way from a
shattering domestic or financial crisis to correcting a minor personal fault, like tardiness. 
Quite often, however, the thoughts that seem to come from God are not answers at all. 
They prove to be well-intentioned unconscious rationalizations.  The A.A., or indeed
anybody , who tries to run their life rigidly by this kind of prayer, by this self-serving
demand of God for replies, is a particularly disconcerting individual.  To any questioning
or criticism of their actions they instantly proffer their reliance upon prayer for guidance in
all matters great or small.  They may have forgotten the possibility that their own wishful
thinking and the human tendency to rationalize have distorted their so-called guidance. 
With the best of intentions, they tend to force their own will into all sorts of situations and
problems with the comfortable assurance that they are acting under God's specific
direction.  Under such an illusion, they can of course create great havoc without in the
least intending it.
	We also fall into another similar temptation.  We form ideas as to what we think
God's will is for other people.  We say to ourselves, "This one ought to be cured of her
fatal malady," or "That one ought to be relieved of his emotional pain," and we pray for
these specific things.  Such prayers, of course, are fundamentally good acts, but often they
are based upon a supposition that we know God's will for the person for whom we pray. 
This means that side by side with an earnest prayer there can be a certain amount of
presumption and conceit in us.  It is A.A.'s experience that particularly in these cases  we
ought to pray that God's will, whatever it is, be done for others as well as for ourselves.
	In A.A. we have found that the actual good results of prayer are beyond question. 
They are matters of knowledge and experience.  All those who have persisted have found
strength not ordinarily their own.  They have found wisdom beyond their usual capability. 
And they have increasingly found a peace of mind which can stand firm in the face of
difficult circumstances.
	We discover that we do receive guidance for our lives to just about the extent that
we stop making demands upon God to give it to us on order and on our terms.  Almost
any experienced A.A.'s will tell how their affairs have taken remarkable and unexpected
turns for the better as they tried to improve their  conscious contact with God.  They will
also report that out of every season of grief or suffering, when the hand of God seemed
heavy or even unjust, new lessons for living were learned, new resources of courage were
uncovered, and that finally, inescapably, the conviction came that God does "move in a
mysterious way great wonders to perform."
	All this should be very encouraging news for those who recoil from prayer because
they don't believe in it, or because they feel themselves cut off from God's help and
direction.  All of us, without exception, pass through times when we can pray only with
the greatest exertion of will.  Occasionally we go even further than this.  We are seized
with a rebellion so sickening that we simply won't pray.  When these things happen we
should not think too ill of ourselves.  We should simply resume prayer as soon as we can,
doing what we know to be good for us.
	Perhaps one of the greatest rewards of meditation and prayer is the sense of
belonging that comes to us.  We no longer live in a completely hostile world.  We are no
longer lost and frightened and purposeless.  The moment we catch even a glimpse of
God's will, the  moment we begin to see truth, justice, and love as the real and eternal
things in life, we are no longer deeply disturbed by all the seeming evidence to the
contrary that surrounds us in purely human affairs.  We know that God lovingly watches
over us.  We know that when we turn to God, all will be well with us, here and hereafter.

NEXT

HOME