The other day, I found myself caught in a situation that, in hindsight, starkly illuminated the insidious power of preconceived notions. Without meaning to, I had let past experiences and ingrained expectations shape my interpretation of events—and of another person’s actions. I’d already crafted a mental script of how things should have unfolded and how that individual should have behaved. This rigid inner framework left little room for the unpredictable reality of the moment. Looking back, I now see that this judgmental mindset marked a quiet but meaningful departure from the principles I’ve committed to throughout my sobriety.
It wasn’t until I revisited some of my old writing—pieces I had composed during a period of deep reflection on the concept of Shoshin, or the “beginner’s mind”—that the full extent of my misstep became clear. Re-reading my reflections on that philosophy, which emphasizes openness, curiosity, and a release of preconceived beliefs, struck a profound chord. The words I had once understood so clearly now felt like they were calling me out. They revealed the assumptions I had let obscure my judgment, and it was a humbling moment—like holding up a mirror to my recent behaviour and seeing a quiet drift I hadn’t noticed in the thick of the situation.
That reflection brought with it an even deeper, more unsettling realization: I had started to take my sobriety for granted. The vigilance and intentionality that once defined my daily existence had quietly eroded. Somewhere along the way, I had begun to expect life to meet my terms, to conform to the vision I carried of how things ought to be. I now recognize that this is a dangerous echo of my old alcoholic mindset—the illusion of control, the belief that I could dictate the course of life and the actions of others.
The principles I learned through Alcoholics Anonymous, and the spiritual connection I’ve cultivated with my higher power, had slowly begun to fade into the background. The core teachings—acceptance, surrender, and trust in a power greater than myself—had lost a little bit of their hold in my day-to-day thinking. In their place, a subtler version of self-will had crept in, manifesting through my rigid expectations and the judgments I had formed so quickly and unconsciously.
The essence of Shoshin—the beginner’s mind—is in direct contrast to this tendency. It invites us to greet each moment, each person, each experience with the unguarded eyes of a novice, untainted by the residue of past encounters or assumptions. It asks us to meet life with curiosity rather than conclusions, to see what’s actually in front of us rather than what we think should be there. My recent behaviour clearly strayed from this approach; I had closed myself off to possibility, choosing instead to view the moment through the narrow lens of my own limited perspective.
This realization has served as an important wake-up call. Sobriety, I’m reminded, isn’t a destination or a static achievement—it’s a continuous journey, one that demands attention, humility, and a recommitment to the values that brought me this far. It’s shown me how vital it is to keep cultivating a beginner’s mind, not only when navigating new territory but also in the everyday experiences I think I already understand.
From here, I’m choosing to renew my commitment to the lessons I’ve drawn from AA and from my spiritual path. I see now the necessity of practising true acceptance—of loosening my grip on how I believe things should unfold—and of trusting life as it is, not as I wish it to be. By intentionally approaching each situation with openness and beginner’s curiosity, I hope to dissolve the subtle return of old patterns and continue walking the path of sobriety with greater awareness, humility, and gratitude.
Shoshin
A moment arrived,
unbidden,
and in its quiet unfolding,
a truth surfaced.
The mind, a swift river,
carries silt from the past.
Expectations, like hardened banks,
channel the present,
narrowing the flow.
A script was written within,
before the actors moved,
before the words were spoken.
Judgment, a silent decree,
pronounced before seeing.
This rigidity, a turning away
from the path once embraced,
the clear spring of sobriety muddied
by the sediment of "should be."
Old words returned,
ghosts on paper,
whispering of Shoshin.
Beginner's mind,
an open field,
unburdened by yesterday's harvest.
Curiosity, a gentle breeze,
revealing the hardened edges
of assumption.
The mirror held up,
reflecting a subtle drift,
a current unnoticed in the rush.
Sobriety, not a fixed shore,
but a constant voyage.
Complacency, a hidden reef,
threatening the steady course.
Control, an illusion clung to,
like the phantom grip of the old thirst.
Life, untamed,
bends to no private will.
The ancient wisdom,
acceptance, surrender, trust,
faded whispers in the clamour of self.
Self-will, a subtle vine,
creeping back,
entangling the open heart.
Beginner's mind, the antidote,
to meet each breath anew,
eyes washed clean of prior knowing.
To see what is,
not what the mind insists.
The path veered,
closed to the boundless,
confined by the self-made walls
of limited sight.
A bell tolls softly,
awakening the slumbering spirit.
Sobriety, a daily tending,
humility the water,
attention the sun.
To cultivate the new,
even in the familiar,
to greet the known
with unknowing eyes.
Release the grip,
on the river's course,
on the dancer's steps.
Trust the flow,
the unseen current carrying all.
Openness, the breath of wisdom.
Curiosity, the gentle guide.
Gratitude, the steady anchor.
The journey continues,
lighter now,
with the beginner's heart.
