Tzatziki Beats Stingrays 19-12! Big Kickball Game!

By Gene B.

Armed with snacks, two kickballs and our own bases, Chicago’s first SLAA kickball game went down Monday, July 25, and it was a humdinger. On so many levels. 17 people showed over the course of the four hour event, making it a successful SLAA fellowship day. It was a chance to hang out with people from other meetings, laugh and get exercise, and enjoy a beautiful summer afternoon in sobriety. Of course, the most important success was as a grueling test of team athletics, and in this both teams, the Stingrays and Tzatziki, did not disappoint. 

Things began casually, with discussion over chips and salsa of what the actual rules of kickball were and how to make things fair. But once teams were chosen (with co-organizer Ian and then later Caitlyn serving as permanent pitcher), a lively competition ensued. Like good love addicts telling their life stories on the first date, Stingrays opened strong with two runs scored in the 1st, but Tzatziki stabilized and proved dominant over the nine episodes of this intense and moving family drama. 

Innings 3 and 5 were particularly bloody for the ‘Rays. Tzatziki kickers exploited holes and weaknesses in the ‘Rays defense, resulting in 9 and 6 runs scored respectively. In the bottom of the eighth, the blaze of sun that had seemed to focus directly into the space between the second and third bases diminished, allowing the various shortstops’ eyes to unsquint. It was as though Higher Power was sending a message of hope to all, saying that if we can just persevere, both recovery and fun fellowship are possible. 

Throughout the contest, players encouraged each other, clapping for big plays on both sides. At one point a fellow on first base exhorted his fellow at bat to rephrase the self-shaming statement he made into a positive affirmation (“I will get a home run”)! And the Stingrays fought back, growing more confident over time and closing the gap from 11 to 7 by final curtain. 

After the game, the perfect sky over Winnemac Park’s azure transitioned, as it will, into a light teal streaked with pinks. Below, the remaining humans cloistered to consider how to rescue kickball #2, which had been punted by Zane into the upper reaches of a willow tree behind second base. The solution, a product of group conscience if ever there was one, was for several players to simultaneously launch water bottles at the remote sphere. They took aim, counted down and flung as one, mightily dislodging the red orb and returning it to Earth. Strangers watching from a bordering park bench applauded and a tear came to this reporter’s eye as the bottles arced skyward, reflecting again on the miraculous things we can achieve when we break out of the isolation of our disease and join together.

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Notes on a Sonata Or: My HP Orchestrates My Pieces ‘Without Dampers’ 

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I've hired powers greater than myself. 

It’s an order

of operating, where I place

the parentheses (HP) first. Next, steps 

lead to exponential serenity. 

My cross to bear, I'm divided 

by an addiction that takes things 

away and down into negatives,  

with remainders of resentments 

that factor in fears. 

Yet my HP gives keys to sobrieties  

regardless of where I am on a scale.  

It's well-tempered, js. 

It wasn't accidental: 

the cognitive dissonance, 

the diminished life 

locked and suspended without re 

solving. The inner detective is needed to see  

the defects of characters in that case. 

Unaddressed letters. 

Picture a dysfunctional fate: 

A window-blocked attic grayed, 

the self, drowning in watercolors, 

just a step behind what you majorly see as right. 

Yes, this is Dorian now. 

I'm sustained by hyacinth pedals. 

I'm sustained by Hebrews 11 and Philippians 4:13 - 

that's faith without holiday/PTO. 

That's honestly why I supply myself with pliers

and Plies playing on repeat is implied: 

I'm a screwed-up nut stripped of sanity, 

needing to bolt, but 

I can't nail this without HP, 

heavy phoning to helpful peers, 

humility principles  

ahead of personalities, 

healthy progress – not perfection 

ist headspaces and halting. 

Did I say Plies? Hmph! 

I meant Kirk Franklin. 

Without HP I'm splitting  

my soul 7 ways, 

wishing for death to consume me,  

losing features and paling, 

wearing shrouds and riddled, 

willing to go any length 

to kill my scarred boy. 

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- Jeremy W.

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“Discovering God’s Will through the 12 Steps”

By Margaret C

The Twelve Steps of Recovery have deeply expanded my spiritual understanding and life in so many ways. Before finding SLAA, I studied spirituality and tried to do my own work for six years. My life was chaotically consumed with therapists, life coaches, self-help books, methods of manifestation,  yearnings for psychic awareness, and a desperation to know myself and to know a higher power. Despite this, I could not stop acting out. I could not even identify that I had a problem, much less that there is a solution. I used spirituality as a means to control my life through my unaided will. I thought that if I could direct my life enough, my struggles would magically go away. If I could just will peace into my life consistently and powerfully, I thought I could find it. This led to despair, hopelessness, and shame because I thought if I could not do it on my own, there must be something wrong with me. 

Once I hit my bottom and found SLAA, a lot of the pressure to “self-help” my way through life and this addiction disappeared. Now, I had a community to help me. This expanded when I read the Big Book and completed the first three steps. The differentiation of God’s will vs my own will started to click. It was a completely new concept to me. Through turning my life and my will over to a power greater than myself, I was able to release the control and desperation to find my own solution. Spiritually and my connection with a higher power is simple. I am able to ask my higher power to show me the way instead of doing mental gymnastics to figure it out myself. Now, spirituality means that I can surrender control and depend on a power greater than myself. With great relief, I can finally say I don’t have to do it alone. 

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White Knuckle Chuckle

By Gene B.

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