I heard an old AA one-liner again this morning: “Stick with the winners.” It’s said often in meetings, and like many of these AA phrases, it can carry different meanings depending on how you hear it and where you’re at in your journey. The person who shared it today took it the way I think a lot of us initially do—through the lens of fear.
Fear that if I’m not a “winner,” people won’t want to help me. That I’ll be left out or judged. That unless I appear to have my sobriety sorted, others might not want to be around me. And if I’m not “one of them,” how can I ever become one?
But this morning, I heard it differently. I realised something that completely shifted the tone of that one-liner. I think somewhere along the way, this phrase lost three really important words: what, are, and doing.
“Stick with what the winners are doing”
Now that has depth. That gives it purpose. That changes everything.
It’s not about being chosen. It’s not about whether people like you, whether you’re good enough, whether you’re already a “winner” or not. It’s not about status. It’s about action. It’s about willingness. It’s about learning from those who have found something that works, and being humble enough to follow their lead.
When I was new in AA, I saw people who were laughing—really laughing—from their guts. People who seemed peaceful. People who were genuinely grateful to be alive. People who weren’t faking it. And I thought: I want what they have. So I started asking: How did you get that? What are you doing that I’m not?
And when they told me—whether it was prayer, steps, service, sponsorship, journaling, reading, meditating—I gave it a go. Some of it stuck. Some of it didn’t. And that’s OK. Not everything will. But that’s how you find your rhythm. That’s how you build a life in recovery that is yours.
Over time, I’ve found the things that ground me. The practices that keep me steady. But I’ve also kept that spirit of curiosity and seeking alive. I stay open to suggestions. I still ask people what they’re doing that helps. Because some of the best tools I’ve found have come from trying something new—something I might not have thought would work for me.
And here’s the other side of it: I also pay attention to what isn’t working for people. When I see someone relapse, someone who keeps struggling, I don’t judge—I listen. I learn. Because I want to avoid those pitfalls. And just as importantly, I want to offer help in return. I want to say, “Here’s what worked for me today. Maybe it could help you too.” Because that’s all I can offer—what worked for me today.
There’s no arrival point in sobriety. I wake up every day an alcoholic. That doesn’t change. And every day I have to make the decision to stay close to what works. To stay close to the action. Because if I let up, if I stop doing the things that keep me spiritually fit, that relapse might not feel like a conscious decision. It might sneak up on me, as it has for so many.
One common thread I noticed in all those early “winners” I admired was this: They had committed—fully—to the AA programme of action. They hadn’t cherry-picked the steps or taken shortcuts. They’d walked through fear, uncertainty, and doubt. And more than that, they had an open heart and an open mind. They didn’t judge others, and they never acted like they were above anyone else. They stayed teachable.
And every single one of them wanted to help someone who was still struggling. That part moved me the most. Because I understand now—helping others is one of the best ways to stay sober yourself. The people we see as “winners” today are only that way because they keep doing what works. They keep sticking with what the winners are doing.
In the end, this is a programme not of perfection, but of willingness.
It’s about keeping your heart and mind open.
It’s about trying everything that’s suggested to you, even if it sounds strange or uncomfortable at first.
It’s about letting go of ego, and doing what works—every single day.
Because what keeps me sober today, may not be what worked last year. And what works for you might be the key I’ve been missing. So we stick together. We listen. We try. And we keep doing what the winners are doing—because that’s how we give ourselves the best possible chance of staying sober, one day at a time.
Follow The Path
The path unfolds,
not carved by your own hand,
but worn smooth by the feet of those who have gone before.
Do not seek to reinvent the journey,
nor stumble in the undergrowth of your own devising.
Observe the summit reached,
the quiet strength in their stance,
the laughter that rises unbidden, a spring in dry earth.
Ask not, "Why them?"
but, "What do their hands hold? What steps do they trace?"
The wind whispers wisdom through their steady breath,
the sun illuminates the tools they carry:
prayer, a quiet turning inward;
steps, a measured climb from shadow;
service, a hand outstretched on the precipice;
sponsorship, a shared compass in the fog.
Taste each offering, though it seem strange to your tongue.
Some will nourish, some will pass.
This is not imitation, but a finding of your own footing
on a well-trod way.
Beware the solitary trail, the proud insistence on your own knowing.
The cliff edge awaits the isolated heart.
Instead, learn from the stumble, the fall, the turning back.
Their scars map the dangers you may yet face.
Offer your own small light, the warmth of your brief passage.
For the path is a circle, and the helped become the helpers.
The doing is the being.
The willingness, the only true perfection.
Each dawn, the choice renews itself.
Not to be a winner, but to walk as one who learns from winning.
To keep the heart open, the mind receptive.
To follow the enduring rhythm:
listen, try, continue.
For the way is not a destination,
but the constant practice of walking with those who have found a way.
And in their footsteps, you may find your own.
