listening...

 Last week I was concerned about getting out of town, while this week I'm grateful the airport mess is over for now, headed to home, sweet home.

I've spent the last week in the glorious southwestern U.S. I couldn't live there, there of weather extremes and little greenery, but what a breath of literal fresh air to visit. The wide-open spaces are not a cliche, and, I think, good for the psyche (just like returning to the mossy PNW is good for my soul).

Visiting Monument Valley,  with a day trip to the amazing Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend,  the line from the Big Book, "Who are you to say there is no God?" came to mind. Whatever one's concept of a higher power is or isn't,  Mother Nature is a power way greater than myself. I'm so very grateful to have experienced these places I hadn't even heard of, and that I have compatible travel companions (truly a gift)

Last week, while walking home after taking my car to the shop, I passed the house I lived in when hitting bottom. I don't get too squirrelly around anniversary times like I used to, but as my sober-versary nears, I do get hit with random memories, especially when walking by the scene of the crime, now an actual lifetime ago.

Whenever I have the opportunity to tell my story, I recognize that any assumption about motives or what I was thinking at the time are pure speculation. I actually did keep a journal back in the day, though for a long time, even lied to myself (lies of omission) by not telling the whole truth in my scribblings (and they were scribbles, especially at the end). What a gift it is to not make choices I need to lie about, to myself or anyone else.

And what a gift of long term recovery to have learned to pay attention to my joy-meter. Several months ago, a proposed trip next summer sounded great. This week,  reality hit, with other travel and household expenses on the docket. I sat with it a bit, and let my friend know I won't be going. There is the plane ticket cancelation to deal with, but I'm at peace with it. Sometimes I say "yes" to something because it sounds interesting,  which is fine, but the bigger YESES are where I want to direct my attention. And, to pace myself. As I've discovered,  if everything is special,  nothing is.

Always, i need to leave space for quiet in order to hear the still, small voice within - usually more a deep knowing than an actual voice. I'm not great at sitting meditation,  but I do find peace in moments of solitude, on my walks or at home. 

It wasn't a still, small voice I heard on the 4 mile event in Monument Valley- more a chant of "keep moving!" on a very challenging hilly, sandy, course. The fun news is that I received a medal for being 2nd (out of 5) in the 70+ age group. Just keep showing up!

Is getting quiet a regular practice for you? How does your still, small voice show up? How is the telling of your story different than it might've been when you were at, say, 90 days or 3 years? What are you saying YES to today?