It's very pleasant to go home. That's where we find security. We venture out into a world which all too often seems to be puzzling and hostile, and when we've done our day's work we can return home, to predictability, warmth, and comfort.

This love of home is predicated on certain assumptions which, to our dismay, we begin to question when we start to work the last three Steps. Firstly, the world doesn't seem quite as hostile, though it probably becomes even more puzzling than it was. It no longer appears that people are devoted to making us feel uncomfortable or miserable -- indeed, it doesn't appear that most people are much concerned about anyone but themselves and their security. Everyone we see seems to be dedicated to one of two goals -- either retreating from the world to the security of home, or attempting to change the world so that it is predictable.

And of course, it isn't and never can be predictable. Indeed, acceptance of its impermanence lies at the heart of at least one Eastern religion. As this realization dawns with the practice of Steps 10, 11 and 12, our wanderings in the world take on a different complexion. We are no longer in search of some sort of perfection, resolution, goal, or ambition; instead, we get to look, to watch, to see, to be, wherever and whenever we may be.

A friend in Program says:

My first therapist told me to buy a toy tortoise and keep it beside my bed. I never did find out why. But after some time, I came to realize that the tortoise had one great advantage over me: Wherever he wandered, he was always home.