How do you solve a problem like Aisha? Our Marriage Flounders.

"How Do You Solve a Problem like Maria" from The Sound of Music

Like the film's protagonist, Aisha was conflicted between wanting a family and wanting to be a solitary religious. 

She sometimes expressed frustration with fashion and wanted nothing more than to wear a nun's habit, which slowly she did!

It is not a traditional Catholic nun's habit; it is more of an Islamic Lady Saint's bulky, non-complimentary, layered affair.

We got off to a reasonably good start after our marriage in 1979 in Winnipeg.  I found us a cute Eichler home in Walnut Creek.  (I had always wanted to live in the Eichler).

It was also the home city of another Sufi group, Sufism Reoriented.  This group was built around the teachings of Mehar Baba, who is more of an Advaita Vedanta Guru than an Islamic Sufi.  In any case, he presented a multi-religious teaching.  I even followed him and hung out with fellow 'Baba Lovers' while attending UCSB.

Meanwhile, Teresa attended the White Pony School, which the order ran.  Initially, it seemed an incredible gift to be among fellow Sufis.  However, as has become the case throughout our marriage, Aisha couldn't help but try to convert people to her own way of thinking. 

Her way of sharing her deep sense of peace and intimacy with the Divine perhaps motivated her ceaseless trolling for newcomers.  

As Ram Dass has suggested, Proselytizing might be a gesture of INSUFFICIENT PERSONAL FAITH that motivates someone to always seek out New fellow believers and watch hope return to their eyes.

Avatar Meher Baba!

I also noticed how frequently she initiated IN-FIGHTING with other established members of Sidi's fuqara.

I don't even remember the causes, but I can recall at least TWO episodes of this.  In one, we were visiting a couple in Freiburg, Germany.  It was at Christmastime, and the medieval university town was beautifully decorated and full of brightly lit nighttime markets.

It was all going well until she and our female hostess 'got into it' over a relatively tiny disagreement about an abstract Sufi principle.  Aisha was so incensed that she clammed up and refused to say "Goodbye" to our lovely Anglo-German hostess.

I tried to resolve the situation, but the spectacle mightily embarrassed me.  As I recall, the grudge held for a long time.

The second incident occurred with one of Sidi's eldest and most loyal devotees, Maryam Tyrell, who had overstayed her visa and lived in the Jerusalem zawiya for many years.  She was the other woman mentioned in my story about my meeting with Sidi.

Maryam had been an undocumented schoolteacher in Jerusalem.  She spoke French and a little Arabic and was beloved by all.  Thus, she was the logical candidate for the Secretary-General of the Fuqara position.

She accompanied Sidi on his second visit to America.  She might have stayed either in my 'new bachelor' apartment or the apartment below where Teresa and her husband lived.

"NO!  It's 'Beloved,' with a CAPITAL 'B,' my BELOVED!!!"

In any case, Aisha again fought with Maryam over a trivial matter. However, I interpreted this as a power struggle over who would be Sidi's books' designated editor and publisher.

The argument was rather fierce, even though, as I recall, Sidi was present.  Aisha walked out and did not speak with Maryam again—ever.  Or so I remember.

 Later, I drove Maryam to the airport and was embarrassed by my wife's behavior.  It seemed so antithetical to the 'Deep Secret Love' we were all supposed to be striving for.

Aisha did get what she wanted.  Whether with Sidi's agreement or not, the books started being printed in 1995 and have been published almost yearly.  The total number is over 40.  It's an impressive body of work.  She's smart and never lazy.  And, IMHO, she's hiding from life with it.  Long after, there is anyone left to read her well-edited versions of Sidi's Teachings.

Anyway, back to Walnut Creek- The 'Guide' of the Sufism Reoriented apparently became annoyed at Aisha's ' poaching' amongst his flock--who was, or so it seemed, polite to her but not especially interested anyway.  We were ostracized, and their disciples were discouraged from socializing with us.  Strike One!

I had friends in the area, my best one being a former roommate, Gail, whom I loved like a sister but had no romantic inclinations toward.  However, it was apparent that this woman threatened Aisha, who complained to me after our first meeting.  Strike Two!

Finally, we were shocked when Teresa's mother, Aisha, read her diary.  It included some rather unpleasant details about our little girl's anger at her mother and her unlikely infatuation with another 5th grader in the public school she was then in.

I remember being angry at this, although I never expected Aisha's proposed solution.

Though already several months pregnant, she quickly dropped the 'H-bomb' that she no longer wanted to live at this place, maybe not in California again, EVER!!  And that she wanted to go to Jerusalem to deliver our coupleship's first boy.  Strike Three!

It's fair to say that before this bombshell announcement, we had been doing well as a couple and had begun to love each other on our own terms—without help from Sidi. 

 
On my way home from work, I would bring flowers to Aisha from a favorite flower stand.  I would then make up silly little love to amuse her.

I was so taken aback by her determination to leave that I didn't know how to say no.  I also didn't know how to earn money to feed and house our family; my only real job was as a traveling salesman.

Aisha proposed we take off for Jerusalem again and be with Sidi and his crew until the baby was born.  After that, who knows what would happen?

She was not to be deterred.  I was torn between practicality and (cultic) spirituality.  I kind of WANTED to believe Aisha's confidence that Allah would show us how to uproot and move halfway around the world with no income, no schools, no healthcare, and no legal status.

This was the first of many such 'breaking camps'  in one location and starting over in another.  

This happened so many times I have to assume that it became part of her psychology to endure as long as she could in a specific spot until she collapsed and sought refuge in a new place.

Surprisingly, I never concluded that she was fundamentally unhappy with me or had some fundamental problem with being both a rather extreme religious zealot and a homemaker in Northern California.

If Aisha had not been pregnant at that moment, I think it might have been the last straw for me.  It was too much--this vagabonding all over the world to chase the illusion of some kind of paradisical spirituality. 

In my heart, I had begun to think of Aisha not as my partner but as an adversary.

The fact that she was pregnant with my son was huge, however.  So I just numbly followed her along.  Both of our sets of parents and ALL of our friends, I am sure, thought us insane.

We shared a tendency toward inclusiveness.  However, as time passed, I realized that isolation was ironically a 'luxurious' way of life-—not available to anyone who wasn't already wealthy or exceptionally renounced., like a Buddhist monk. 

It presupposed economic security, which I did not feel we had.  Although I was responsible for all the financial aspects of the marriage, Aisha was determining where we would live. 

I also pursued the ideal spiritual community early on.  After a life of spiritual experimentation and hedonistic escapism in my youth, I really found sustained peace in a Buddhist monastery in Ukiah.

That's me on the left with the mustache!  My Teacher, DM Hsuan Hua, is seated in white.

As a layperson who spent many weekends living in the monks' quarters, I found a lot of peace there, although it was pretty spartan.  The Master, with whom I had taken refuge, was the real deal.  He was the most scrupulously virtuous person you'd ever want to meet.

His life was dedicated to spreading the Dharma from an Orthodox Mahayana Ch'an (Zen) perspective.  Yet he also taught popular 'Pure Land' Dharma to those unable to undertake the rigors of prolonged meditative sessions.

He made some expeditious 'changes,' as suggested by the Buddha himself.  This is one of the reasons people are attracted to Buddhism--it is constantly changing form and tries to mesh with local cultures while holding onto the essential instructions.

At its core, it's about facing the truth of old age, suffering, disease, and death and turning those things into encouragement to practice while there is still the opportunity.  The practice is to practice good deeds while still keeping the mind.  So much can happen when a person learns to tame 'the mad mind.'

Yet I was restless in a certain way, too.  And even though I had, in one sense, the perfect spiritual home already, I nevertheless was drawn back into the world because... I should have a career and a life in the world.'

I never anticipated ACTUALLY BECOMING a monk.  It was too bitterly ascetic for me.

But if I had stayed there, I would have learned excellent Mandarin and knowledge of Chinese Buddhism and culture   This would have led me in an interesting direction and, hopefully, given me an improved moral basis for the rest of my life.

Ironically, I became the financier for ANOTHER person's attempted retreat from the 'real world' and into Sidi's highly unorthodox, if not hopelessly corrupted, version of Islamic Sufism as it grew on American soil.

At all events, we left our sweet first home in the Walnut Creek house, packed up all and stored our belongings, and headed for Jerusalem again.

This mainly happened during my summer off-season, enabling me to continue until our son was born in September 1983.  However, August was the usual beginning of my sales season, and my loyalties were torn.

 I waited to return to America until after Ibrahim was born in a charitable hospital on the Mount of Olives.  That, in itself, was a night to remember.

Aisha was very jaundiced, very ill, and had been diagnosed (inaccurately, as it happened) with not just ONE but TWO significant diseases.  One of which was Tyfoid Fever.  I forget the other.

Secondly, our OBGN, whom we had met beforehand, admired both Sidi and Ayatolla Khomeini.  He taught his children verses about killing Israelis with guns from the Iranian Leader.  Sweet!

Next, when Aisha's contractions started,d it seemed like they were far enough apart that we headed to the hospital rather leisurely,

Suddenly, the time between the contractions shortened dramatically, starting and necessitating a frantic rush up the hill to the Doctor's house, who panicked as he discovered how far along she was.

"Ya Allah!  She's already FULLY DIALATED," he exclaimed!

We sped to the hospital, and within MINUTES, I had my first son in my arms.

After the relatively quick birth process, Aisha was so ill that she needed to stay in that hospital for an extra couple of days.  During this period, she never had the opportunity to bathe off the blood and fetal fluid from the birth.  She was desperately unhappy about this, but the nurses weren't much good for anything other than socializing amongst themselve  . They didn't seem to want to get their hands dirty.

When the baby was finally brought home, Ayisha still was not able to give milk, and the baby formula they sent home with us was for older babies, not newborns. 

So what was to do?  Sidi's wife had no cow's milk,  so I pounded on a neighbor's door with a goat.  He obligingly milked her for us; that was our son's first meal!.

I began my first in a series of sad trips back to the Mid-Peninsula, where my parents lived.  They offered me a place to stay to continue my old work.

Unfortunately, it also enabled me to re-commence my habit of drinking in the evening and often to excess. 

And my tendency was amplified by  Aisha's refusal to grasp the apparent necessity of our being in America.

Truth be told, I was angry with her as well.  Although we casually tried to find a school for Teresa in Jerusalem, Sidi realized we couldn't live there.

At that point, Aisha had a fallback plan.  We would go to the UK, where several fuqara couples already lived, and attempt to live there.  We hoped it would be a more pleasant and spiritual alternative to California. 

At that point, the UK had 14% unemployment, and I had no visa allowing me to work.  A few months later, I could secure an Irish passport based on my grandparents', but that still didn't solve my lack of skills to trade in the economically depressed UK.

So back and forth I went, my alcoholism and my frustration growing all the way after six months.  After six months in the UK,  where we mostly presumed the hospitality of the English fuqara, Aisha finally threw in the towel and returned with me to the US. 

It was a wasted six months, although it did give us the experience of living in a foreign country.

We were lucky to find an outstanding, almost perfect girls' school run by Catholic nuns in Marin.  Teresa loved it and was an excellent student.  We invited two of her schoolmates to live with us, which satisfied Aisha for a while.  But as Teresa approached college age, Aisha again developed Tumbleweed Fever.

Movin' On

Now, her ideal was that New England was more stable and 'moral' than California.  Teresa and I initially visited potential colleges in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.   Later, Aisha and Ibrahim went on a similar trip, mainly through Vermont, which they both loved.  

Well, who doesn't like a summer vacation in New England?

Fortunately, however, I was able to put my foot down.  My business's territories were highly competitive, and it was not possible for me to simply arrive in New England and do business.  I already had to fight off competitors tooth and nail in my territory.

Teresa was also not accepted into the best schools, and Aisha couldn't make a good argument for moving somewhere else—AGAIN.

And once again, I was the party pooper.  The killjoy.  She and Ibrahim had had such FUN in Vermont!

However, we sold our first-ever self-owned house because of the increasing road noise and moved into a rental home.  Teresa went to the local junior college.  We were all pretty unhappy until a house on a hilltop in BEAUTIFUL West Marin became available.

It was a gorgeous wooden glass architect-designed home, which was energy-saving and had solar improvements throughout   

Though my parents had to help us with the down payment, this was the most beautiful house I'd ever lived in--much less owned. 

Living in such a beautiful place, on a mountaintop, at least for a while, allowed us to smooth over our differences.  Soon, Teresa's husband from the Middle East also moved in with us and occupied an improved in-law space.  They were a pleasant diversion until Aissha got mad at Zorba, the husband, and they decided to leave us.  That was a new low.

We also overcame our differences by leading separate lives.  I was often on the road while Aisha took care of the children and, in her spare time, sought to be a proselytizer for Sidi's community.

Oddly enough, our intimate encounters were excellent in terms of the ones I'd had earlier.  We didn't talk about it much. 

We didn't talk about ANYTHING PERSONAL very much.  But this was one of the pillars of the relationship.  Sadly, I was the first to abandon it one night before the divorce was even a topic.

I don't know what I expected to happen.  I expected Aisha to read my mind about my anger with her that day.  

I don't even remember why I was angry.  I should have been pleased she had the temerity to want it and indicate so.

But I don't think we were ever intimate again after that pointless 'uncommunication.'

Some parts of Aisha were shut down entirely long ago.  One night, I remember her crying by herself and, out of nowhere, saying, 'Honey, I'm so awful.'

I asked her to tell me what was wrong, but she couldn't or wouldn't.  

She would occasionally find a new 'brother or sister' who got to live in our house and eventually get introduced to Sidi over the phone as a new prospect.  He dutifully would give them a new Arabic name.  It kept her busy in our isolated, 'movie star' house-oin-a-hill.  But I did not share her enthusiasm.

Part of the reason was that Sidi's sons kept showing up, and I would get an insider's view of his activities.  His sons were less convinced of his infallibility than my wife. 

There's no one like a family member to burst your bubble.  In fact, one of them even told me that his disciples said, "He tells them what they want to hear."

I enjoyed all of them and their honesty.  Still, it was hard to keep the fantasy of Sidis having extraordinary intimacy with the Divine as they shared his frequent missteps and foibles as only one's family can. 

And because he thought he was doing a 'good thing' by converting North Americans and Europeans to Islam, he might have thought the fiction of "Twin Flames Marriages" was justified.

He also got a second, much younger American wife.  Reportedly, he was not above the Adam and Eve show, with himself playing Eve this time.

Although he didn't invite me to come and watch, as he had done to me.

He also paid himself by endorsing whatever proposal his followers might bring before him.  Including an utterly deceptive, transparent Ponzi Scheme that lost almost everybody's money.  Except for the people at the top, of course.  One of whom was presumably the 'follower' who brought it to Sidi.

I began to see this so-called Holy Man performing more like an old-school swindler.  At some point, they sold miracle cures, including special holy oil, for $50 a bottle.

In my case, 'worldliness'/and substance addictions were a constant and merciless companion.  While with Aisha, I sought oblivion in the vices rather than the Spirit.  

Instead of pursuing my earlier interests in Mystical Christianity and Traditional Chinese/Zen Buddhism, I somehow allowed myself all the indulgences I could cram into my 'business trip bacchanals.'

The one element of non-Sufi spirituality I retained was my precious Ram Dass Tapes, which I took EVERYWHERE I went.  His light kept me going through some miserable episodes on the road.

Of course, I was largely unaware of this "choice," I am sure that if I had asked Aisha which behavior she preferred, she would have probably chosen the Buddhist option.  But would she want to stay married after that?  In retrospect, I should have taken that risk.

What is also true is that part of me still enjoyed our frequent trips to Jerusalem and our participation in Dhikrs with other Sufis in our own tariqas and those in the US and Europe.

Aisha's parents were kind, ordinary, working-class people.  I enjoyed regular visits with them, though I wanted to be gentle with them, mindful of how bizarre much of the history I'd had with their daughter would seem to them.  

In sympathy with Aisha's own example, I only used Aisha's birth name and her daughter's birth name to avoid offending them.  The major fly in the ointment was that I had not told my parents of this momentous occasion.  Finally, a few days later, it was a shock that they initially refused to believe.

In Aisha's case, I confess I am largely ignorant of what was going on with her--especially during what must have been the brutal final years where my basest impulses were given free rein. 

There was a perpetual internal conflict between her desire to 'leave the world' and remain perpetually with Sidi and/or in Jerusalem and her desire to raise a family and marry.  She resolved the conflict by hoping I would, with her help, become her Sufi Knight, her Divine Consort.

Sidi seemed to believe in this fairytale-like rendition of what a marriage between Sufi 'Beloveds' should be.  Aisha seemed to want to believe it.

But I didn't see why he put me with her or her with me other than that we were simultaneously in the same place at the same time.  

This was highly unorthodox.  If he had done it with an Arab woman, her father would be instantly licensed, if not expected, to KILL the perpetrator.

While she understood and, I believe, tried to be patient with my issues with Sidi and the Sufi Path, she was unable to make peace with what I saw as the legitimate demands of living in the world, which more-or-less required us to live in California---NOT in Jerusalem, as she preferred, NOR in the UK, nor in Vermont or any other place she later imagined would be 'ideal' for us.

As a result, we could never fully resolve our married life.  Although we managed to forestall the ending for 14 years, the seeds of its destruction came early.

"Westward, (or anywhere else) HO!!"

This was the beginning of the End, just 18 months after our marriage.  It was the first of many "breaking-of-camps" in one location and starting over in another that became a constant for us, usually at Aisha's instigation but at least once mine.

This happened so many times that I have to assume that it became part of her psychology to endure as long as she could in a specific spot, but only so long before something snapped.

Maybe she was born a tumbleweed or a nun, or perhaps she never found the right guy. But I hope she finds some peace in her mid-70s; I really do.  She should be able to handle anything if she finds true inner stillness.

This includes an ex-husband who is still curious and waiting to hear her story.  I also want to enjoy all her photographs but never get copies anymore.  (Sniff).

Ah, well, on with our story.  Don't forget to hit 'older posts.'

Our Rasputin--The Itinerant Loafer and Home-Wrecking, Child-Beating Flatterer...

But other than THAT, he was a GREAT GUY!  (That is, if you fancy obsequious weasels!)

At the start of 1994, our marriage was undeniably in trouble.  

At one point in that terrible year, I was stricken with the return of panic disorder.  I had first experienced it in college, following my first encounter with unrestricted foreplay with a visiting sweetheart.   

I interpreted this latest bout of panic as a symptom of my psyche's revulsion at my womanizing outside of the marriage without Aisha's knowledge.  I was skating on thin ice, and my deep psychology knew it.

She DESERVED to know if her partner was putting her at risk with his behavior.  I could almost forgive her for everything else she did that hurt me.

However, I rationalized that I always took precautions and, besides, I told myself, I drew little to no emotional intimacy from the encounters.

It came as a total shock when Aisha unexpectedly began an outside relationship.

The first evidence to it came one night, which just so happened to be my first experiment with the drug Ecstasy, or MMDA, or 'The Love Drug.'  I don't know that I expected to find 'love' with it, but I had heard about it for years and was an old psychedelic veteran of many acid trips.

A teenage friend I had given a ride to gave me a complimentary dose. 

So, it was extraordinarily counterintuitive when Aisha interrupted my 'trip' to announce that she wanted a divorce from me.

I could hardly believe it.  For all our conflicts and disagreements, I never once CONSIDERED that we would ever separate.  I naively assumed that whatever conflicts arose would just pass away by themselves.  And I HAD been working with a therapist to stop drinking.  And I had been prescribed Valium by our GP for my alcohol addiction.

(And  I didn't know that that isn't the way you do it!)

But no, she would have none of it.  I thought possibly the main reason was that Sidi was in America for the first time and destined to arrive in Marin in a few days.  She was utterly blissed out by the prospect.  I expected she had visions of the new Shadhiliya Order zawiyas all over the US. 

(Which did happen, only the leadership was not really in her hands.  She had to satisfy herself with being the order's publisher, which she threw herself into with great enthusiasm).

I settled back into a comfortable delusion.  Sidi was coming, and I knew he was famous for rarely granting divorces in the Islamic court. 

He took pride in his ability to save any marriage.  As dependent as Aisha was on Sidi, I expected that he would never allow her to divorce me.  So, I sat back and waited, expecting him to fix our marriage for me. 

Even though I was unsatisfied with the marriage, I couldn't imagine leaving it either.  My thinking did not go much further than that. I was, after all, heavily into drugs and alcohol at this point. Although that was also destroying my ability to think clearly as events were proceeding rapidly--too rapidly for me to keep up with.

So the day came, and Sidi arrived in our locality. A big meeting at our house was organized. As it began, Sidi called us up before the crowd and, as he had once before, urged us to put our hands in the others and told us to reaffirm our marriage vows. I was shocked when she refused and ran out of the room. But I told myself she would eventually relent.

But unfortunately, she did not. 

To some extent, I was proud of her for refusing to let Sidi dictate her actions. However, I still didn't realize that Sidi never enforced his orders or exacted penalties on those who didn't follow them. He publicly demanded that she stay married, but he had a wait-and-see attitude.

 

All this went on for a day or two when a brother from New Mexico took me aside and pointed to a character, Ali, who had been staying at our house. He had apparently met Sidi earlier in New Mexico. Aisha had also been there, and they began a 'friendship' there. Ali had also taken Sidi's hand as his Sheik, giving up his commitment to another. 

The brother said, " If you want to save your marriage, you'd better get rid of that guy." 

Suddenly, it was clear to me that Ali was not staying in our house just to learn more about Sidi from her. He was also there to help my wife, Aisha, break free from me!

 Hot anger reared inside me, and I yelled at him to get out. Aisha tearfully rebuked me for sending away "the best friend I ever had!"

So off he went, but it was already too late. He remained in the neighborhood, and they had clandestine meetings around town and talked for hours at night on the phone.

 I complained to Sidi about this jerk and expected him to expel Ali from the Order and send him away for good. He did NOT do so, and he did not explain why. 

He may have wanted to give Aisha the freedom to do what she wanted, but he didn't want her to do so publicly. He may have thought she might come around gradually. Who knows? 

I wondered what he got out of playing with other people. Was he also a victim? In any case, it hardly matters today, 30 years afterward.

I was highly disappointed in him. So. I began writing letters to Aisha all day long, as I had during our courtship, begging her to return to me and promising to be a better and more serious Islamic husband to her in the future.

But her heart was set on this guy.  He was wily and flattering. He acted as if she were the Oracle of Delphi—perhaps he really believed she was. 

I was confused until I realized she was letting herself be sweet-talked.  She was overcompensating for some perceived lack in herself by imagining herself as an Oracle or Seer.

Today, I see her as hopelessly cultic, sublimating her entire life to propagating Sidi's books and converting whomever she could to Sidi's particular vision of the Reality of God.

I'm lucky she ran off with an ass rather than a man of substance. Ali couldn't even feed or house himself. He relied on other people's charity. He was a 'Visionary' as well.

The kids didn't like him. He had hit them both. He was preachy and sanctimonious. A nicer man might have charmed my children more and pulled them even further from my grasp.

A more substantial man might have had the initiative and means to successfully fight me off. In fact, he had to 'borrow' money from Aisha--and ergo, ultimately from me-- to defend himself against me in court. 

 I wanted to know more about what was going on with them. Of course, I was concerned about the ki and had heard the but I was also hurting pretty badly in general. I was still hoping to win her back,

I set up a cassette recorder in a hidden part of my exterior office and connected it to our phone line. Whenever someone picked up the phone, the recorder began recording. 

Hence, each morning, I listened to their excruciatingly long and (to me) vapid conversations, many of which concerned my demerits.

While some of me reveled in my wicked cleverness in this, I was also heartbroken to hear myself spoken of as some sort of beast.  Though admittedly, I was at a low ebb.  Dammit, I didn't WANT to be a slave of alcohol.

The final blow came one night when I heard Ali say, " Something, something..this idea of turning Ibrahim's energy over to ME!"

My blood ran cold. 

As I recall, Aisha didn't react or comment.  She didn't say anything against the idea. Evidently, to her, the idea was within the range of what was to be considered normal.

Now, I can see how being angry enough with one's ex-spouse might lead to seeking more exemplary adult models for one's children, and I was NOT in the best form in those days.  

But no one "owns" another person's energy to give away. So, how exactly does one "transfer" it? 

In my view, Aisha and Ali were interested in gaining the power to manipulate other people through their presumed spiritual superiority, the same way they saw Sidi controlling people's 'energy.'  They were sincere imitators of Sidi's pathology.

I DID discover, ultimately, that Ali had, in the case of both children, resorted to blows to 'discipline' them--something neither Aisha nor I had ever done.  

(On second thought, I once did it to Ibrahim, and he SMACKED me RIGHT BACK.  And we dissolved in laughter and tears and promised each other we'd never do it again).

At that point, I had exhausted my patience with Ali and asked my lawyer to prepare a restraining order against him. Unfortunately, I did not attend the court on the appointed date.  Aisha may have realized that the man who had relied on her (and, therefore, ultimately me) to cover his own legal defense expenses would not be the savior she had hoped for.

And that he was being hauled into court for his corporal punishment of her children probably sealed his fate.  But not before the damage was done to our son, who must have been utterly confused about what to do, believe, and what family loyalty meant.

I couldn't deny that my behavior was at an all-time low.  I don't even remember much about my life with my children after the divorce was announced, and we continued to live unhappily together as we waited for our house to sell.

When we did separate, I grew worried that Aisha and Ali might somehow run away with the children.  I should have known better since they were still living off of me when she and he lived together in Napa.

I hired a private investigator to monitor their movements.  The above video is part of what he captured.  It is significant because it indicates his too-eager, staged intimacy with Ibrahim. 

The children seemed perplexed by Ali's sudden appearance in their lives, which a month earlier still included seeing me daily in our long-term home.

I still can't get over what inspired Aisha to take up with this guy. Or that she allowed him to babysit our children. He went through the motions of being a caring surrogate father. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say, 'Take over Ibrahim's energy,' But it was obviously just a show. He wasn't interested in THEM.  He was interested in HER.

Zooey, notably, didn't like him and told him so to his face. I was so proud of her.  Later, when I saw this video, although sad at the house, she was disheveled and ignored in a messy, cluttered bedroom.  

I was SHOCKED at Aisha, who usually cared about dressing the children impeccably and providing them with a clean, almost sterile home.  (She suffered from allergies.)

I can only assume Aisha was in some happy frenzy with all the new disciples following in the wake of Sidi's First American Road Show.

In any case, Aisha may have held a legitimate grudge against me, but Ali didn't. He had accepted our hospitality and lived in our home for a few days before stabbing me in the back. He also facilitated the breaking up of our family because that is what 'best friends' help you do.

She had a choice whether or not to leave me.  Our son, Ibrahim, didn't.  

Ibrahim then had to go with her because I was employed, and she wasn't. As far as I know, Ibrahim didn't blame me for the divorce at that point; he was only 10-11.

But given his proximity to Aisha and Ali's chattering about my demerits, he had 

Children, particularly boys, like to take on more power than they desire or are able to. It makes them feel powerful.

Aisha was not discreet about her feelings for me. Zooey reported that she had told them, "He's a father, but he doesn't act like a father."

I was fortunate that Zooey was too young to pick up all the adult sadness and pathology, but Ibrahim sure did. I will discuss that in another chapter. Zooey's continuing love saved my life.

Zooey told me that everyone was dissing me and that she had to choose between them and me. I didn't want to believe it, and I didn't want her to be hurt, so I glossed over it.

Muhammad is famous for saying that of all the things Allah allows, divorce is the least pleasing to Him. That's very wise, but I can't even speak for that wisdom from the children's point of view. Both of my girls seem to have gotten through it okay. Not my son, though. He's still fighting his own demons.\

Anyway, it's not a pretty story. 

    

A 'Tale of Two Sidis'- Nurideen Durkee-Sidi's Ambivalent American Friend

In the 1980s, Aisha and I traveled to northern New Mexico to meet other Western students of Sidi. Although we stayed in a private home, these 'Beloveds' were affiliated with the Dar-Al-Islam Center in Abiquio, New Mexico.

I'd indirectly come to have been acquainted with Sheik Durkee, both through his earlier support for Ram Dass and the creation of the book Be Here Now and through his own book Seed, which is similar in content to Be Here Now but also has an interesting deck of holy cards in the back that could be used as meditation or divination objects. 

                Ram Dass and Stephen/Nurideen Durkee in the Early Days

The local area in New Mexico was a stunning naturalistic environment with a stripped, beautiful, but somewhat hostile desert.  The house where we were staying had a direct view of the backyard of Georgia O'Keefe, the esteemed and iconic American artist, still alive although aged, who we would see taking walks with her caregivers.  It was easy to understand where much of her inspiration came from.

 The relatively large institution, Dar-Al-Islam, was utterly unique in terms of its architecture and the composition of its residents. The residents were primarily middle-class American young people who had taken on various elements of Islam and/or Sufism under various Middle Eastern Sheiks. 

Nurideen was an artist and student of Islamic Architecture, and the layout of the community was a work of art in itself.

It was perhaps my insecurity, but I felt an undercurrent of hostility/ambivalence at Dar towards Sidi Sheik al Jamal.  The American wife of our Dutch host, with whom we spent several nights, evidently had made the case with Nurideen of Sidi's alleged sexual misconduct with her.  

She also later told me that Sidi had inflicted this reprehensible behavior upon Aisha, but who knows where the truth lies. 

(Though Aisha later took on the Sheik's name despite having no apparent relationship with him, certainly not through any kind of legitimate marriage, I always considered the impetus for that to be the fact that her later 'friend'/boyfriend, Ali Ansari, came from a Sufi order where it was common to take on the name of the Sheik as a token of one's respect and reliance upon him).

I was also violently ill at the time from some foodborne illness, so I wasn't yet my best in terms of sorting out all the claims and counter-claims.  But we were still welcomed by these two fellow (if former) disciples with whom we already had established a deep, recurring friendship.

One day, we went to meet Nurideen, who was, at the time, somewhat qualified in his endorsement of Sheik Jamal.  He seemed to conclude that Sheik Jamal was okay and that following him was in our best spiritual interests, but there was some hesitancy.  (Though there was apparently a standing order that Sheik Jamal would not be allowed to visit Dar-Al-Islam). 

Naively, though, I thought as a new murid of Sheik Jamal, I would be somewhat celebrated, as I had been in Jerusalem, by other Muslims.  Yet, I sensed a slight hesitancy from the DAL crew. 

My perceived incredible reception might have been self-consciousness based on my sloppy execution of ablutions before and the technical performance of the mandatory 5x-per-day Islamic prayers.

Perhaps Nurideen was simply reflecting some subtle tension with the Saudi Arabian sponsors of such a large and unusual Islamic complex on American shores.  Saudi Arabia was a well-known state sponsor of the Wahhabi branch of Islam, which strictly rejects Sufism as a form of shirk or polytheism.  

Perhaps Nur-Ad-Din, who already had built a reputation as a sincere and rigorous Islamic scholar, was concerned they would lose funding if too many apparent Sufi influences appeared.  (Which, apparently, they eventually did anyway, at least for a while.) 

The tenor of Dar-Al-Islam was, to ME,  mainly Islamic rather than Sufi (which, to my limited understanding, was more IMPORTANT than the 'Outside Islam,' and the pillars of Islam were rigorously practiced.

After some hemming and hawing, Nurideen finally came up with the same tepid endorsement that I encountered more than once among Sufi Teachers who knew him: "I'm sure that Sheik Jamal can help you in your journey to find ALLAH."

In fact, I'd gotten used to a fair amount of celebrity as we sometimes walked in East Jerusalem, the Old City, or the two mosques on the Temple Mount.  

Typically, the passers-by would greet the city, and he would welcome them back and then point to us as, "New Muslims from America!"

My limited Arabic came in handy, and it somewhat perplexed me that  Sidi was primarily describing us Muslims rather than Sufis. 

 

Whereas, in MY mind, at least, we were predominantly Sufis rather than Muslims.  To a greater extent, I thought I looked upon the practice of the five pillars of Islam as "the outside Islam."  Necessary, perhaps, but not really "the Point" of it all.

(I had no particular attraction to that 'Outside Islam,' which seemed like an Old Testament-style religion.  True, it did fit in the era desert environment where Sidi was located, but it also seemed rather medieval, patriarchal, and intolerant and often still seems so.  At least in its rather backward-looking iterations in the modern world.

As someone pointed out, 'Islam has never had a Reformation.—at least not in the same way Christianity had. Many of its loudest recent advocates want to harken back to earlier days when one Caliph ruled the entire Muslim World, without considering how impossible that would be in the era of the modern nation-state.

On the other hand, I found that most Muslims were hospitable, gracious, and proud of their traditions.  They were usually attentive to morality and anxious not to displease God with any moral lapses. Their 'leaders' sometimes forgot their Friday School lessons.)

Anyway...At that point, I didn't really understand how Sufism and Islam were integrally connected, and one really didn't think of having one without the other if one was living in most Islamic countries.  

It was only with the rise of Wahhabism in Saudi Arabia that Sufism came to be seen as an 'innovation' or 'shirq'.  The same word is used for 'polytheism' or 'assigning Partners to God'--the worst-- and I mean THE VERY WORST --SIN a pious Muslim can commit!!

It's a tension/misunderstanding that still exists today where one finds Wahhabi-oriented groups in Pakistan regularly committing suicide bombings at the tombs of Sufi Saints.  At sites like those, which, until recent times, had also existed on the Arabian Peninsula, pious Muslims had venerated saints for centuries, not seeing much distinction between the 'auwliya' or 'saints' of Islamic Sufism and the original Companions of the Holy Prophet Muhammad.

The same sort of people who brought down the  Twin Towers on 9/11 are still today committing the same kind of horrors against their own fellow Muslims of a slightly different persuasion.

I was well aware that Islam had had a golden age where it was the repository of wisdom and books of Western Civilization, which were lost in the chaos following the fall of Rome and the subsequent dark ages in Europe.  

At that time, Islamic Civilization was a "Glittering City on a Hill."  It was said that every book ever written was on hand in the famous Library of Alexandria in Egypt.  It was the Prophet, after all, who said, "Seek knowledge, even if it be in China.")

So, while I would put down on forms for several years that my religion was 'Muslim,' I didn't explore the outside religion very much at all.  In contrast, Sidi obviously took it as a feather in his cap that he had created some Western Muslims   I think it gave him and the observing locals a sense of pride that former Christians were coming to Jerusalem and converting to Islam.

This subtle tension between Nurideen and Sidi evidently continued, which is also reflected in this epitaph, Nurideen wrote about Sidi, which can be found on Durkee's website here: 

http://greenmountainschool.org/slides/in-memory-of-a-great-shaykh-in-memory-of-a-long-long-friendship/

It's a prime example of trying to put lipstick on a pig. Although he tried, he just couldn't seem to say Sidi was beyond reproach. I noticed this frequently.

I feel sorry that Nurideen, despite an impressive, multifaceted, and extremely serious personal history of Islamic studies in Medina, Saudi Arabia, and Al-Azhar, the world's most  premier Islamic University, whose home was in Cairo, was still fundamentally unsatisfied with his life because he had not met the Qutub of his time—or so this document would indicate.

In the epitaph, Nurideen was obviously ambivalent about the 'Second Generation' that had begun to follow Sidi and were concerned that Sidi's message was 'too Islamic' as to be 'unsaleable' to the Western audiences to whom they were 'selling' Sidi's Sufism to.

I never met any of them myself, but from looking at their materials and hearing about them secondhand, I see that they were more interested in using Sidi as a figurehead than a Sufi Sheikh in the traditional sense.

However, I have noticed how artfully these folks manage to bridge the gap between Islam, Sufism, and New Age Healing Modalities.  I make no claims as to their relative sincerity or not.

Our Family Struggles with Addiction.

 In some sense, my relationship with alcohol was a primary and recurring theme throughout my life. It began in my late 20s, stopped during the first couple of years of my marriage to Aisha, and lasted from the first time I used it until, finally, on February 5, 2018, when I hopefully achieved sobriety for good. There were long stretches of sobriety, including 18 years, between 1995, when I seriously undertook the AA Program, and 2013, when my second wife moved into a memory care unit.

Unfortunately, the unresolved conflicts in my marriage with Aisha, among other variables, led me to seek escape in various modalities whenever I was alone. Typically, this involved business trips to other areas in my territory, where I would purchase alcohol and get plastered the night before my intended marketing activities.

 As time went on, I found myself unable to wait until the end of the day to start drinking. On one memorable occasion, I waited outside the local 7-Eleven in Marin County, where we lived, until 6:00 AM arrived and I could buy beer. Later that day, on a long journey to Fresno, I stopped several times to purchase more.

 

At one point, I remember a cashier refusing to sell me any alcohol. I should have realized that I had had enough. I got back in the car and continued driving anyway, but I soon saw red lights in the rearview mirror.  

"We've been hearing about you from all over" the smiling cop said. as he got out of his car on the side of the freeway. 

I was given a roadside sobriety test, which I failed. 

 

The cop then drove me to the Merced County Jail and booked me for intoxication. I spent a relatively short night in a private cell. I don't think I stopped crying even once. They let me go in a relatively short time—maybe 6 hours—after which I had to retrace the route the cop had driven to find my car. Miraculously, I found it.

Engaging a lawyer at a considerable expense the next day, I could not escape the charges and eventually lost my license for six months. As my job involved daily driving, this was both an economic and a personal catastrophe.

I also had to go back to Merced for two days of incarceration. And though I postponed it until the last minute, I eventually had to admit to Aisha that I had a DUI. 

I think this might have contributed to her growing frustration with me, as she had always had a terror of alcohol, having been involved in babysitting children on the night their parents were killed by a drunk driver.

 

Looking back on this history, it is amazing that I never sought help. Ironically, it was not until Aisha divorced me and I was alone with the issue that I sought help. 

And even then, it was with a lot of encouragement from Marilyn, a woman I had met who later became my second wife.

 

Ironically, my son Ibrahim has also had a long and troubling history with drugs and alcohol. 

At one point, before he lived with me, he proudly showed off a HUGE plastic bag containing what must have been HUNDREDS of Norcos he had obtained, supposedly from a cash-strapped pharmacy employee—or so he claimed. 

Shamefully, at that point, all I could think about was obtaining some for my own consumption rather than considering the effect those pills would have on him.

 

Later, when he lived with me, we shared an interest in purchasing drugs by mail from Indian pharmacies. We also negotiated quantity discounts on concentrated kratom.

At one point, I even went out and bought him a case of nitrous whippets, which he had somehow convinced me was a medical necessity for him.

 

I can't believe how low I must have fallen to have endangered my own child by my own example. 

My only defense, if there is one, is that I still had not truly appreciated that sobriety and abstinence, while difficult, are entirely possible if one is willing to commit to it and take the same steps others have taken to establish and maintain it. 

It took a determined effort. However, recovery was possible for me with the help of others.

 

In my case, this approach involves a significant commitment to Alcoholics Anonymous but also a long-term involvement with personal therapy, spirituality, and group processing through my church home at the time, Glide Memorial Church in downtown San Francisco.

 

I followed any and all spiritual programs that seemed sincere, which is still true of Buddhism and AA and also the Unconditional Love approach that guided the members of Glide.

Buddhism grasped the problem of human suffering directly and offered a path to relieve that suffering that didn't depend on faith or spiritual leaders. Christianity was the religion of my birth and my culture, and it seemed to hold a place in my heart for the unconditional love it promised.

 

In fact, both religions offered a counter-intuitive explanation for why humans fail and are unhappy, which preoccupied my thoughts for much of my life. 

Ordinary human satisfactions were never ultimately enough to outweigh the inevitable suffering and painful events, including death, old age. disease, failed relationships, and addicted children, that inevitably pertain to we weak and barely-evolved hairless apes that we are. 

As Zorba the Greek named it, "the whole catastrophe!"

Ironically, it is by letting go that we can obtain the precious wisdom we seek. It is thru ADMITTING that we are, indeed, born to suffer that we have a shot at transcending the worst depredations of sufferring.

I love these words from the St. Francis Prayer...

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

And I understand that the 'dying' he mentions may also be a sort of 'ego death' after which there is a transcendent state of non-worry about apparent death.

Make It So!

Conclusion

This is just one person's story. There are plenty of others if you search Sidi's full name and include words like 'scandal, money, cult, followers,' etc. in your search. Some of them praise him, and many scold him. 

I tend to find the scandalous ones believable because he used the same methods in America in the 2010s that he did in Palestine in the 1980's.

There was, and is, a lot of joy in my life around the children I was given through marriage to Aisha. I might not have had children otherwise, and that would have been a shame. 

I had memorable experiences with Teresa. Including our private trip to Paris, my first.  Dad did pretty well as the Tour Guide. 

However, since, like most men, I was too embarrassed to ask for directions, we covered all the important destinations on foot. Which, in a later moment of humorous reflection, she called, 'The Paris Death March!'

We also went on a memorable trip through Vermont, Maine, and New Hampshire to explore her college options. Elton John's Yellow Brick Road was our soundtrack. I loved Portland, ME, Burlington, VT, and especially the nearby Ben and Jerry's factory tour.

AND we enjoyed a wonderful trip, with her mom aboard, of the highlights of Rome, especially the Vatican—where we stayed in a cute pensione run by lovely Italian nuns—Florence, where, after a noisy night in the town center, we evacuated to the quiet and ancient suburb of Fiesole—and finally, Assisi. 

St Francis was formerly one of Aisha's heroes. There, we saw His and Sister Claire's tombs, as well as especially the venerable original 800-year-old monk's Refectory where the Blessed Saint had shared his meals with his disciples. It felt like a trip back to an earlier, yet Eternal, place in time It was possibly the most spiritual place I'd ever been! (And I've been to a LOT of Western pilgrimage places--Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Fatima, Lourdes, St. Peter's, the Virgin of Guadalupe's Cathedral. And countless less well-known places in Southeast Asia! )

We'd also shared trips back to Jerusalem with Ibrahim. He was an absolutely gorgeous little boy, and later pictures of him meeting the Arab merchants and camels are priceless to me. (Where are those?)

And yet, from the moment we closed down our first house in Walnut Creek, there has been, and still is, an air of sadness and unreality about everything that happened. This is due to our loss of a shared sense of being together on a mission of some kind. From that day, I think part of me gave up. 

Since our divorce, I frequently felt my children weren't permitted to embrace a loving relationship with me--their fear of hurting their mom's feelings.  Ibrahim actually boycotted my second marriage, much to my disappointment.

I lost a lot of confidence in myself as a father--a confidence which wasn't that great. Aisha automatically made crucial decisions concerning their welfare be made, at least after she left me. She made some good ones for Zooey but some exceptionally awful ones for Ibrahim.

 I'm still trying to get my son to love me. (I'm sure he does, in his heart of hearts. It's just been a rough patch for the last several years). As I see it, he was totally in the middle, 11 years old, when we split up, and of necessity, he had to go with his mom.

At first, he tried to reconcile it all and be balanced with both of us. He ended up taking his mom's side by default. Yet it has left him with relentless fears and an inability to function easily with other people. He seems bottled up inside himself and afraid to share what's inside. (Gee, where did THAT come from)?

He actually has terrific abilities and talents but is also frequently cut down by depression and substance addictions.

The complex process of sorting out what information to give to which person is particularly challenging for Ibrahim, the most affected of my kids. I need to figure out how to honor his legitimate love for his mom while making him aware of her substantial emotional unavailability.

Even at this late date, the three of us could go to therapy and try to sort out his issues with him. At least the issues that pertain to his issues with his parents.

I've begged Aisha to join that effort. Has she responded yet? What do you think? Of course not. The bias against therapy is still in place, and I just have to accept that—not rant and rail against it.

But WHO doesn't believe in therapy these days? I think it might be those who are afraid they will find out their mental and emotional problems are EVEN WORSE than they imagine them to be.

They're afraid DOUBTS about their SANITY might rise up!  

Well, Goodnight Nurse. Fear of Insanity is probably a GOOD THING because you could learn how to lead your life to avoid it, e.g., with impeccable morals and deeply felt humility, fearlessness, gratitude, mindfulness, and kindness for all!

These can become actual daily practices. In fact, they are found in many Buddhist and Christian lineages.

When people are religiously addicted, it's not easy to break into their bubble. And the more years they've committed to their beliefs, the harder it is to change, I expect.

I try to accept that things happen to us for a purpose or because of some long-ago trauma or perhaps even past-life karma. Or too many negative experiences piled up upon each other.

Most of the time, we're unaware that the way OUT is to 'fake it 'till you make it'. Or to 'Act As If'. You visualize the goal and eventually achieve it...AS LONG AS IT IS GOOD!!

As Ram Dass has often said, "No matter WHAT the situation is, the best thing I can do is work on myself."

The only person I can ever hope to change is me.

Thus, 'defeating' Sidi, who has already passed on, will not help me overcome the fundamental greed, anger, stupidity, and other negative characteristics we tend to develop.

There's a method to do that. Lord Buddha figured them out 2500 years ago, and I have discovered many local sources of friendly help for that project.

The best I can ultimately hope for here is that I will hereafter have 'externalized' all the secrets I've been hiding. And I genuinely hope no one has been damaged in reading them.

Terrifying and insurmountable environmental problems are coming our way.  

The world seems like it is terminally broken. Climate change threatens to set the world on fire.

We must reach out and comfort and support each other as best we can,  Feed the hungry, and clothe the naked. Avoid killing, shaming, and hating.

In any case, we will each face old age, sickness, sorrow, and death.  In the modern West, we've pushed that awareness to the side. We try to forget about it, distract ourselves from it. Yet, the evidence of Impermanence is all around us.

And in using our cleverness and the unrestrained urge for 'progress,' we've accidentally just raised the odds to unsustainable levels. We're on a precipice, folks. Individually and collectively.

Let's use the angels of our better natures to find meaning and purpose. Let's work on acceptance. Let's love and be loved without hesitation. Let's meditate, pray, and join in the general dance!!

Thank you for sharing my journey. I welcome your comments and helpful suggestions.

ADDENDUM: 

(Just leaving this bit here until I can edit and/or find another place to put it)

I had the opportunity to reevaluate and see if any good things came out of what appeared to be a catastrophe.  

In my case, I first had a lovely adoptive daughter, whom I live near and love today.  I couldn't be happier with her achievements and work ethic   She has told me many times how glad she was to have been able to move to Northern California through my marriage to her mom.

Winnipeg's cold winter temperatures are astonishing; if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time, they can be fatal. It's a small city with relatively few cultural activities. Apparently, our marriage stabilized her mom, who had been a bit of a rolling stone before marrying me. 

So, to her, the marriage was a GREAT thing.  She built lifelong friends in Marin County and was also able to help her sister with her adolescent growing pains.  There was a big age differential, so she was like a second mom to Zooey.

Teresa gave us two lovely grandchildren.  She is a light of love and happiness to many people and a gifted artist and theater director.

Zooey is a highly competent and motivated nurse specializing in home health care for the elderly. She is also the model of a loving mother to my two adorable grandsons. I visit them freely for three weeks, happy weeks out of the year in Europe.

My son is troubled at the moment but also very intelligent and creative. He's much like me, so I feel it deeply when he has troubles.  I wish I could change things for him, but I'm still glad that we enjoyed bringing him up together, and I know from my own case that addiction can be arrested.

All these experiences kept me in the flow of Life. 

Having children makes one connected to Life.  It instantly cuts out the option of suicide, for example. Or should. 

It also makes one more willing to put one's nose to the grindstone and try to act in THEIR interest rather than one's own.

If I hadn't married Aisha, I certainly would not have had the same children as I do today.  There's a deep irony there.

As his guru, Maharaji, said to him, "Ram Dass!  Can't you see it's all PERFECT!?"

So that's my default; you can't second-guess what has already happened.  I hope anyone reading this doesn't make the same mistakes I did.   

"Look before you leap, and then, after that, accept your Fate." 

That was the message the imam gave us at our marriage. At that point, it would be too late to look back, but we did a tolerable job of accepting—14 years' worth.

Today, I'm free to be as Buddhist as I want to be, undeterred by whether or not it pleases a partner.  While I rarely make it to my old Buddhist haunts, it's good to know I can—and will.

 And, OMG, I have a new sangha in Refuge Recovery that skillfully combines Theravada Buddhism with Recovery.  It brings me such joy.

I also have my beautiful AA, my church, and some kind of higher power I can't put into words.  But it is a kind of Friendly Felt presence, some Guide on high—maybe the 'still small voice' the Bible talks about.

One of my biggest lessons is I can't suppress myself to supposedly please somebody else.  I end up feeling frustrated and taking it out on them in some underhanded, slippery way like I did with my drinking and carousing to 'get back' at Aisha and her cultic preoccupations. 

When I could have just walked down my OWN PATH and let the chips fall where they may.  What was drinking at the problem gonna do?  The fact is, I just fell for my baser instincts because I felt justified.

You have to love yourself.  It sounds easy, but it takes a lot of practice.  We think we have to be perfect, but we don't.  'All have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God.'

We can have most of the virtues we want to have—they just take practice.  For almost everyone, Repentance.  Confession.  The Fourth, Fifth, Eighth, and Tenth Steps.

We will fail often, but that doesn't mean we're failures.  The self is just a concept held together by rubber bands and glue.  It doesn't even exist in the way we think it does.

We can serve as examples, no matter how far down on the scale we have fallen.  Someone else may need to hear EXACTLY how somebody like us, who thought they were a failure or a hopeless alcoholic, got better.  NOT by being a 'success,' but by accepting themselves and others, JUST AS THEY ARE.

All the major religions can be helpful if one takes them with a grain of salt.  As the saying goes, "Take what you want and leave the rest."

A belief system that depends on another human being to make decisions FOR YOU and that you really need to take responsibility for yourself will doom you to disconnectedness from the world, which is also part of the Divine Reality.

I'm glad I got to know Aisha at least a BIT more before I married her.  It was good that we met each other's parents first, as this gives one a sense of where the other person is coming from.

That may be why our marriage lasted 14 years rather than a few weeks.