For sale: a letter written in 1787 by George Washington in support of the adoption of the proposed new Constitution. In four pages of tight script, the letter has been touted by Sotheby's as "the most important Washington letter to ever come to auction." The estimated price: $1.5 million to $2.5 million.

What better man to defend the Constitution's power to unite the 13 states into a democracy than the father of our country himself? It is a remarkable historical document sure to fetch a high price at auction this week. But there is one sentence in it that is priceless, at least to me right now: "If wisdom is not to be acquired from experience, where is it to be found?"

It's rare that I find mine from life's pleasurable experiences. I've had many of those good times in my 50 years. I value them, and I always strive for more. It's the pursuit of my happiness.

But the essence of my wisdom is forged and repeatedly recast from the errors of my ways, usually missteps by what many people in recovery are urged to be on guard for at all times: selfishness, dishonesty, resentment and fear.

Nobody is immune to these behaviors or feelings. We are all human. To addicts and alcoholics, however, it is these "Four Horsemen" that spur us to drink or take drugs to oblivion. Take away the substances, and people like me — even those of us with years of sobriety under our belts — usually discover that our human condition still is swayed by what makes us feel uncomfortable or act unwisely. The big difference now is that we can't drown them out with a glass of wine or ward them off with a joint or a few pills. That's why the hard work in recovery isn't about avoiding the drink or the drug. It's more about constantly assessing what motivates us to interact with other people and, when we screw up, promptly admitting our wrong and doing our best to make it right.

Lately I've been in a titanic tangle with fear and its twin, worry. My fear is that I will fail as a single parent to three teenagers. I am scared about walking through the holidays without the traditions that defined a marriage for 17 years. I worry about fostering a relationship with a woman; dating just doesn't cut it at my age. Economic insecurity wakes me up in the night. And what happens if I don't answer all those e-mails piling up in my inbox at work?

Fear and worry have muddled my relationships with other people — strangers and intimate friends alike, even my kids — so that today I am uncomfortable with the dynamics in some of these relationships. I don't like what has happened, because it's mostly my fault.

So I know where I stand. Like many sober addicts and alcoholics in pain, I'm at that crossroads that is always somewhere on the road map of life. One route is a dead end that leads to perpetual restlessness, irritability and discontent, hardly a healthy place for people like me. The other takes me where I need to go, even if what lies between now and later isn't discernable because it's just the horizon.

Fortunately, I know which route to follow. It's the well-worn path staked out by my fellow travelers whose own experiences along the way proved to be costly lessons. The payoff in wisdom, though, is priceless. So off I go. Again.

William Moyers is the vice president of foundation relations for the Hazelden Foundation and the author of "Broken," his best-selling memoirs, and "A New Day, A New Life." Please send your questions to William Moyers at [email protected]. To find out more about William Moyers and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.