Perception - Putting Community at Risk 1-30-10

Anderson, South Carolina

In the United States we spend trillions of dollars each year to alter the perceptions of those around us. Desperate to have those around us think well of us, we spend fortunes on cosmetics, designer clothes, cars, plastic surgery, hair dressers, boats, even vast houses in remote locations we occupy but two weeks a year. In fact, much of the American economy is driven by the manufacture and sales of consumer goods intended to enhance personal image. The opinions of others, often complete strangers, drive us to sacrifice the serenity and soulfulness of our live in order to project an image of success.

The best selling car in America for some years has been the Toyota Camry. Its success has long been due to a combination of pricing, style, reliability, and crash-worthiness. It is rated at 22 MPG in town and 32 MPG on the highway. A new 2010 Camry retails for $21,195. With special care, one can acquire a new one for less than $16,000.

One of the icons of American success, paradoxically, is a German-made BMW 7 series sedan. It is rated at 13 MPG in town and 19 on the highway. A new 2010 760 sedan retails for $140,425. With care, one is going to pay $140,425 for this vehicle that has one steering wheel, four tires, four doors, one trunk lid, and one engine. Its reliability is not even close to the Toyota Camry. Crash-worthiness is similar for the two cars. One can easily debate if its appearance and functionality are worth a $119,230 premium over the Toyota. An astute shopper can purchase nine new Camrys for the price of one of these 7 series sedans.

For most of my adult life I have driven an admixture of Toyotas of one sort or another - old Corona Mark II wagons, nearly new Camrys, and adolescent Corollas. Most recently I have been driving a Toyota Corolla bought four years ago for the princely sum of $750. That price included a new stereo and fresh tires and 39.4 MPG. Current annual property taxes are in the region of $17.

Buying into the trap of perception, I am now the unhappy owner of one of these BMW 7 series sedans. Late last year an opportunity presented itself to acquire one of these icons at what seemed to be an astounding price, mere pennies on the dollar. In a moment of weakness I took the bait, wondering how I could go from driving a fifteen year old Corolla to driving one of these emblems of success. I didn’t. In the months I’ve owned the car, I have driven it a mere 200 miles and approximately 150 of those miles have been to assorted garages and dealerships in two cities, attempting to prevent an aneurism from rupturing somewhere in the engine. The car has been slinging a combination of oil and other assorted fluids since the day I first brought it home. Several times I have risked burning the house down by using gasoline to clean the car’s assorted exudates off the garage floor, but only on semi-warm days when I could leave the garage doors up and did not have the wood stove fired up.

As disconcerting as my experience with the car has been, even more so is the apparent lack of expertise to diagnose and repair it. There has never been a problem finding guys working under shade trees who can easily fix things in my Toyotas, at a fair price. So far I have been unable to find a dealer or garage able to make a proper diagnosis of what ails this German symbol of cash flow, yet I have found all of them willing and competent to swipe credit cards. Most recently, quotations to attempt repairs, even without certainty as to what is wrong, now exceed my original purchase price. Three mechanics and three garages and a BMW dealership concede it is ‘normal’ and expected for these sedans to require such extensive repairs. Right now I am considering which local charity might get my phone call asking it to send someone to come get the car - but I wonder if that would be a charitable thing to do. Scrap a German/American icon? It just might happen.

The Holy Grail in the recovery world is serenity. Those in recovery are routinely asked if anything is disturbing their serenity or sobriety. It is well known that any chance at regaining and maintaining a meaningful life filled with purpose, joy, and peace requires a foundation of serenity. An inner world of chaos only leads to an outer world of dysfunction and disorder and often a complete failure of one’s relationships and life itself. Having been through a ‘bottom’ of my own, it is astoundingly clear to me that without serenity, life does not have much quality at all. When serenity is disrupted, relapse is often forthcoming, and life is again shattered. Too often I visit funeral homes to remember those who were not paying attention to their serenity and emotional sobriety. Life shattered and there was no gluing it back together, one more time.

What is not so clear at all is why I would risk my serenity for a mere pile of metal, glass, and plastic, knowing this. Have I really failed to progress in my spiritual journey to a point where it doesn’t matter in the least as to what I drive, as long as it is reasonably safe and reliable? Have I progressed far enough to cut my losses knowing that the greatest prize of all is beyond price?

A dear friend of mine has lost her serenity and emotional sobriety because she underwrote a small second mortgage on a house. The owner of the house has gone into default and my friend is going to lose her mortgage in the foreclosure process. It has been stunning to see her sacrifice a full meaningful materially and spiritually abundant life over a relatively small sum of money. The idea of losing this mortgage has been unacceptable to her and it may end up costing her absolutely everything, including life itself. She no longer is able to offer community to those around her.

In recovery it is often pointed out that we are free to learn from those around us. We do not have to relapse, give up our serenity, or lose it all, in order to grow into the promises of recovery. I can choose to sacrifice my serenity in my attempts to get this American icon roadworthy or I can practice acceptance, realizing that some things in life just aren’t as they seem. I might end up with a worthless mortgage or a car that does nothing but sling muck all over my garage. It is my choice as to what I do about it. I can accept it or fight it.

Can I accept that I might just be a regular ordinary kind of a guy who is no longer tyrannized by what others think of me, who no longer is concerned with what I drive? “Can we accept poverty, sickness, loneliness, and bereavement with courage and serenity? Can we steadfastly content ourselves with the humbler, yet sometimes more durable satisfactions when the brighter, more glittering achievements are denied us?” Can I be happy driving an old Toyota instead of a 7 Series sedan?

In one of the most revered paragraphs ever written we are told that “acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation - some fact of my life - unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God’s world by mistake.”