Spiritual breathing lessons.

I am reading Plan B by Ann Lamott. Ann writes a lot about her faith, which buoys her through her recovery down there in the Marin County outback, on the fringe of the Mercedes people. Her digs are the beach at San Quentin and the south face of Mt. Tamalpais and Bolinas, quaint, sweet little town on the way to Point Reyes, where herons and elk abound. Last night, I read the chapter about the Church of Eighty Percent Sincerity. Now, that's for me. We have a saying in AA, "progress, not perfection". If I could be sincerely recovering 80% of the time, I would be so much happier. My worksheet, the state of the being, where I chart my moods, shows that I go up and down like a yoyo, but most of the time I rest in that OK mode. Well, hohum. I do want to reach Excellent on occasion. It sounds like the main minister of this religion is attaining it, and he has a grotesque facial deformity. He has found that, when faced with this challenge, he had to really search for his own beauty and worth, and it was not in the right makeup or wardrobe. It blossomed beneath his breastbone, and it shines out all over everyone else, too. Now, that is grace, to be able to look into the mirror at the terrible ravages of circumstance, and let that be a lesson and a blessing to shape your life around. Not that I am asking for a deformity. I am asking to see the same thing in the mirror David saw, God looking back.