Bill & Sandy Fifield Artist - Authors - Speakers

A New World Opens: Our First Night In Brazil

Brasilia Terminal is open-air, a chaotic place; there is a little café and tables near our entry door into Brazil.   Over there are rows of ATM’s where everyone seems to getting or exchanging money. Banks of taxis and cars line the curb.  If it weren’t for Kelsie we would be hopelessly confused.  Abadiania is a one and one-half hour drive south and a little west of Brasilia.

First Sunrise--Abadiania

First Sunrise–Abadiania

Kelsie has a taxi all ready to go with Bolivar as our driver, he is the proud owner of a white and very clean, nearly new small SUV.  It’s still early and quite refreshingly cool with a wonderful dry breeze; much like a Colorado summer morning but it is the start of winter here and the dry season has just begun.  The traffic is heavy in Brasilia and the city seems to stretch out in all directions endlessly.  There is an area of large buildings to the left and a massive traffic jam going the opposite direction from us.  We are leaving the city while everyone else is going in to work.   It seems to go on for miles. Read More

The Great Adventure—Brazil

john-of-god-lung-cancer-healingAfter ten hours of travel—well , two hours from Denver to Atlanta, then eight hours of layover on Concourse E, we finally get to board our flight to Brasilia (an almost nine hour flight overnight) and it is entirely full, packed. There will be no stretching our here. In the early morning on the plane I look out the window to see the full moon I had seen in Colorado the night before only now it is from the other side. We arrive at the open-air Brasilia Terminal to find our Guide, Kelsie, awaiting us with bright red hair, shining eyes, and open arms; there is no mistaking her.

Who would have thought so long ago that we would be making this strange trip of healing and faith? In 1965 there was life and no death, there was no cancer; it was wide open—nothing could stop us. Nothing could affect us like it did everyone else. Ah, the things we did to those young bodies. What’s a little hangover? Just the price you pay for a good time. So what if our lungs felt like cobwebs were filling them after a long night of parties. Cigarettes were not addictive, the tobacco companies said so and we were not inclined to argue. Yah, but, we liked to smoke. We couldn’t and wouldn’t hear the voice of addiction speaking, whispering, cajoling, nagging and pleading. Read More

“AWESOME SOBRIETY”

AWESOME SOBRIETY 2013

White knuckle sobriety doesn’t interest me at all.  Why would I ever want to just not drink or use mood altering substances?  I was always searching for a solution to my fear.  Alcohol and drugs were my solution to that pesky problem for a long time and to my mind—worked very well thank you. I definitely liked the effect because they took away the fear for a while.  No matter to me that it didn’t last—that feeling of ease and comfort that came at once with that first drink or hit.  The world was changed; fear did not exist for at least a couple of hours.  I remember saying to friends over and over that I was willing to pay the price for this; I thought the price was merely a hangover; I had no clue of the real price of my indulgence.

When I first discovered drugs and alcohol, it was a way to push the envelope of ordinary existence, to walk on the edge of the razor, to fly above the boobs I saw around me who were living (so I thought) unfulfilled lives by doing what society asked of them.   They said: “But we don’t like the taste”.   My thought at the time was: So what if you don’t like the taste—you’ve got to drink your way past that, I don’t like the taste of gin but two martinis later—it tasted great!  It was the effect I was after and I was willing to pay the price, whatever that might be.

I have come a long way since then, when alcohol and drugs were the solution to every problem. Read More

Sandy’s experience with recovery.


“…my experience with recovery helps me find my way through those uncomfortable moments back into the light.
Three things disrupted my lovely, tranquil world early in 2012, each
devastating in its own way.”

Read more about Sandy’s experience with the 12 steps and recovery
here.

Why is Recovery THE Answer?

Recently, while discussing the addiction problem of a friend’s fifteen year old daughter, my immediate temptation was to think that this was unique and different, a special problem that needed to be dealt with in an extraordinary manner.  I thought—there must be some kind of therapy, magic medication or miracle action which could fix the problem once and for all.  Rescue and fix—that’s the answer.  These thoughts raced through my head and I’m sure through her parent’s minds as well.    How can we make the problem just go away?

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“The Portals of Creation”

 Art has always been magical to me even as a child. I remember watching my dad paint. I watched the images appear as he sipped his Swiss Colony sauterne.  It was like being in an alchemist’s workshop; there was secret and forbidden knowledge.  He seemed to be able to go places nobody else did; he stood at the portals of creation.

 There was never any doubt in my mind about what I wanted to do and be.  Being able to stand at the portals of creation without fear seemed to be the trick.  I didn’t realize until much later that he gave that gift to me very early on. The way it looked to me was that alcohol fueled and was necessary to the process.   At first it worked beautifully and when drugs entered the equation, I went even further out—right on the razors edge.  The Universe was laid out before me.  Everything I saw and read reinforced this belief.   Look at all the awesome psychedelic art pouring out of the hippies.  There were paintings, sculptures, posters, crafts, music, and performance.  And look at history—Jackson Pollack, Gauguin, and Toulouse-Lautrec, all great artists and drunks.   And–the most compelling evidence of all–my own studio full of incredible works of art.

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“The Beginnings of an Awakening”

How did I feel knowing that I drank and did drugs, yet Bill was the one who went into Rehab?  As the intervention I had planned unfolded, I believe I was unaware of what this really meant.  My basic thought at the time was that I wanted to save Bill’s life.

It had become obvious even to me that he was out of control. I knew he was drinking the whole time I was at work.  He was driving to the liquor store and bars under the influence and it seemed only a matter of time before something tragic would happen.  I, however, was still able to go to work and I had taken control of everything I could in a desperate attempt to prove that everything was okay in my house.  It seemed apparent to me, Bill, and everyone else that I had no problem with drugs or alcohol, therefore, I did not need rehab though Bill certainly did.  I hoped that if he could regain control, we could get back to our lives and continue to use drugs and alcohol moderately.  All my problems would be solved.

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The miracle of intervention: Grace.

There is an intervention in every addict’s life. It is called Grace.  Every minute of every day, Grace is available to everyone on earth. Whether it is received or not is a matter of circumstance.  In addiction this is known as the “moment of clarity”.  “Oh, my God, I’m killing myself, and I can’t stop!”  The acceptance of this devastating truth, the admission that there is no control, is the springboard into a spiritual life, a life of happy, joyous freedom. 

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