There's only one problem, and the only problem that the Big Book ostensibly solves is the problem of obeying a mind that suggests a drink.
The solution does not consist in the suggestion never arising; the solution consists in living a life in which it is irrelevant what suggestions the mind makes: the suggestion will never be followed because the mind's suggestions are never followed, because one is living by principle not whim or impulse.
To solve this one problem therefore entails the destruction of self, not in the sense of the destruction of personhood (the individualisation of God's creation as an extension of Himself, like a facet of a jewel), but in the sense of dethroning the mini-me self, the self that thinks of itself and creates an image of itself as its own creator. The Cartesian I think therefore I am is philosophically correct but spiritually monstrous: the idea that consciousness of self itself conditions the existence of that consciousness, which somehow did not pre-exist.
The solution to the one problem is therefore for self to be put out into the cold and barred from the decision-making caucus.
Its imperious commands are reduced to miniature shrivelled shriekings, and it ceases to be taken seriously.
In solving this one problem, the obedience of self, all problems are coincidentally solved.
It's impossible for me to have problems today, because there is no me to have them. It's like suggesting that, if there is something wrong with my toenail, my toenail somehow has a problem.
Today, I don't have problems; I have projects. I'm somewhere different right now, and we've had a number of projects. For everything that has been, thank you, and for everything that shall be, yes.