Dreaming...

 The other night I had a dream. I was in France, standing at a fence/barrier overlooking a raging river. I turned around for a conversation with a friend, and when I turned back, the river had reversed direction and was so gentle and smooth that people were swimming in it. 

What does it mean? Maybe confirming it's a good idea that friends and I cancelled a long trip planned for July? Maybe a general message that I can exchange inner turbulence/worry for calm? Or maybe it was merely what I call, "Jeanine TV," a mish-mash of random thoughts and memories from the day.

Sometimes dreams are just dreams, and sometimes I tap into the archetypal mind, the collective unconscious where the dream does carry a message. When I was a kid, maybe 8 or 9, our family was driving on the old Santiam Pass from Bend to Portland when our car ran over a boulder. My folks got out to investigate and the car started to roll - just a bit, but it was terrifying for me in the back seat. That feeling, and sometimes dreams, of no one being in the driver's seat followed me into sobriety. And then one night, after many inventories and extended outside help, I had the dream. Me and Dad were in the back seat with the car rolling. I indicated that he should get in front and drive - he shook his head "no," and with just a moment's hesitation, I took over - I drove the car. Just a dream, sure, but at the time (and still) it felt like an internal shift. I am responsible for my safety. I can drive the car. 

I've had other meaningful dreams, like asking  my ex to stay, him saying he couldn't, and my learning the next morning that he'd just died. I keep pen and paper near the bed to jot notes as soon as I wake up. I learned years ago that if I wake up with wisps of a dream in my mind, hold very still and review the plot, since moving, even in the slightest, will cause the memory to vanish. Like I said, not all dreams mean something, but many do, if I'm paying attention. 

I have an on-going text conversation with two close friends and this week, the matter of the questions we ask ourselves came up - the big-ish ones, like "should I take this job?" or "is this the right relationship for me?" to smaller ones, like "should  I accept this invitation, take this trip, move?" One friend brilliantly pointed out that perhaps it's a matter of reframing the really BIG questions. For example, instead of asking, "How long before I die?" the more helpful query might be, "How can I best use my remaining time?" My brain often seeks answers, thinking they'll provide insights into concerns that are totally out of my control. Instead of the "what if's" maybe I could re-set to what's here and now. Instead of trying to figure out the unknown, perhaps I could focus on gratitude for what is. My questions are often based in fear of the unknown when what I really wonder is, "At the end, will I feel I've had a good life?" (and if not, what do I need to change to move in that direction?) This one day at a time stuff makes more sense the longer I'm around. 

I participate in a small online fellowship meeting, usually all women, that started in the pandemic and has continued. Someone does a "cosmic pick" from the Daily Reflections book and shares. This week, the chair read April 8, "An Inside Look," that says, "I must look inside myself to free myself." For so long I looked outside myself to define myself, looking for answers in the next relationship, my dabbling in organized religion, seeking some sort of structure. I have the structure I need today as guided by the 12 Steps, not as a straitjacket of "musts" but as a framework. Unsure about a decision? Run it through the Steps; reason things out with someone else; put pen to paper. The same things that worked in 1986, 1999, 2016 still work today.

Do you remember your sleeping dreams? Do some of them come in a language that speaks to you of important things? What questions are you asking yourself, or that come up in conversations with friends? How might you re-word the unanswerable ones in order to get at the core concern? What does the structure of your program, your guiding principles, look like in long term recovery?

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Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Happy Founder's Day

 A topic in one of my meetings this week was the 9th Step Promises, with the reminder "they are being fulfilled among us, sometimes quickly sometimes slowly," not that I, personally, will wake up one day with all having come true for me in that moment. I did have an attitude and outlook change, almost from the beginning. Funny how being sober gave me the energy to live according to my morals and values. I always had a moral compass, but did my best to either outrun it, or ignore the still small voice all together because it just wasn't any fun. Initially, staying true to my values took concentration - those "is this my will or HP's?" questions. Today, without "resting on my laurels," I can rest assured that I have decades of walking this spiritual path, and if the way forward isn't obvious, I have sponsors and trusted others to help me get clear.

The part in the Promises that tends to catch me is "we shall not regret the past." I've often beat myself up for regretting the past, but I've just realized that it is OK to regret the past - not in a morbid reflection kind of way, but as a teacher and a reminder of how I never want to be again. 

Along those lines, I worked a Step 10 with my sponsor last week. She gave me the assignment of doing a formal, written Step 10 each night - not something either of us have done with regularity. I often say that my gut is my Step 10, but I like the idea of noting positives and negatives from my day, seeing which behaviors and attitudes are repeat offenders. I can get comfortable with my old ideas, because they're my ideas - the superpower of rationalization convinces me I'm right. Pen to paper can provide hard evidence of, oh look - this is how judgement shows up, or there is "me, me, me" in living color. Now, what am I to do about it?

What I'm to do is definitely related to Steps 6/7. I had a mini-spiritual awakening as I read about Step 6 in one of my daily meditation books. I'd long thought of Step 6 as me sitting on a lily pad, gritting my teeth, trying to muster enough willingness so that sunbeams from heaven would surround me and vacuum up any character defects. What the reading suggests is that Step 6 is simply about being willing to change. In 1,2,3 I acknowledge a problem that I can't fix on my own. With 4/5 I get a clear(er) idea of what I'm working with - how, specifically, did my behaviors harm myself and others? What is my modus operandi? OK then, 6 is moving, even incrementally, to being willing to change those characteristics that impact my relationships, and then in 7 I'm flat on my back on the floor, looking at the whole of it - the good, bad and the ugly. The prayer asks Creator to remove whatever is in the way of my usefulness, but for me, it's more like, "OK self, I now see where I bump up against the world and its people. Please, let me be willing/self-disciplined enough to pause and do something different, even if just a little bit." And for me, this means that whatever has been troubling me will be in my face. What? Impatience is your problem? Well here's a very long train on your path, forcing you to sit and stew or perhaps sit and think of a gratitude list. Is it judgement? Ah, well, get a load of the person who pushes all your buttons. Your choice - accept them for who they are or internally steam about how they should be. 

My spouse and I spent a couple of nights at the Oregon coast to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. We started in the town of Seaside, at the nooner at the Little Yellow House, where meetings have been held for 40 if not 50 years. We stopped in Cannon Beach for our favorite pizza (Pizza al Feta if you're in the area) before making our way further south to the little town of Rockaway. My step-pop used to have a place there, so we're familiar with meetings in the area, going to the 7pm. We made the group eight sitting around the table, then joined by a couple from Oahu who made it ten.

During announcements, the secretary spoke of a brand-new outdoor morning meeting, first time the next day. What the heck - we're game, so got up early and drove to where we thought it might be, only to go in circles until we saw a Park Ranger who told us of another park with the same name. Rather than tell us where to go, he said, "Follow me!" and headed off (to where we might not have ended up on our own). In the meantime, we'd called the hotline, and because it was so new, the fellow had no information, but said he'd call his sponsor. Just as he called us back with more specifics, the Park Ranger pointed to the Nehalem City park. Thank you, kind sir. Pulling into the parking lot, we noticed a couple of fellows, one young and tattooed, one older, playing frisbee and in the distance, what appeared to be a Big Book on a picnic table. Our people!

The four of us had a magical meeting - the chair had three years, three years of enthusiasm and gratitude. I nearly cried during the moment of silence with the symphony of bird song providing the soundtrack. I reflected on all of the odd little meetings I've been to over the years - the lone fellow on a lawn chair in Drake Park in Bend, OR during the pandemic, the few of us who sat on the stairs of the church for our home group when the secretary didn't show up with the key, the time four of us drove to our friend's family home in Montana, reciting How it Works then having a meeting on the road. In some meetings I see people I know and love. In others, I'm a stranger. Whichever it is, I so appreciate this way of life.

What is your relationship to the 9th Step Promises today? How about Step 6? Are you willing to make the effort to change whatever characteristic/defect/defense that still gets in your way? When is the last time you felt the enthusiasm of a newcomer? How might you reignite your program if it's been a while? On that note, today is Founder's Day, 91 years since Dr. Bob took his last drink. How can you express your gratitude for our program?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Time marching on

 One of my fellow walkers in Italy is a therapist. When she remarked that I didn't look my age, I half in jest asked her if age dysmorphia is a thing. It is. I looked it up when I got home, reading about the Peter Pan syndrome, as well as the general feeling of disconnect between one's internal sense and chronological age, whether that's feeling older or younger than what the calendar says. What I often go back to is, "What am I supposed to feel like?" I once read that while our bodies change over time, our inner self doesn't (though I hope I've matured!), so it makes sense that the reality of X number of birthdays doesn't always match how I feel. I have a poster from the 2014 Portland Marathon that I ran (& walked) in honor of my 60th birthday. As I dusted it off this week, it hit me strangely that the event was now over 10 years ago, a decade. Kind of like hitting 40 years sobriety - how did that happen? Yeah, yeah, I know - one day at a time.

And, one day at a time, I settle back into the current time zone, plant in the garden (inspired by the lovely flowers in Tuscany), eat salads for dinner, connect with my various meetings. This week contains Step work - my own and a sponsee's; Two for them and Ten for me.  I have two active sponsees at the moment (and another "as needed") and each, in their own way, challenge me to look at how I apply the principles of the program. Participating in another's journey provides the impetus to go deeper myself - not in the hope of staying ahead of them (like might've motivated me in early recovery) but as a gentle trigger to ask myself, "How am I living the Steps today?" 

I had lunch with two friends from early recovery on Monday, reminiscing about the crazy fun when we were 30-40 years younger - dances, parties, potlucks galore, when the excitement of sobriety translated into travelling in packs, making up for lost time, marveling at our new lives. And now, we are old women - two of us in meetings, one who stopped years ago; two who live here, one who's left the country, grand kids getting married (wait, wasn't she just a tiny girl?), joint replacements, life on life's terms. I'm coming to a place of being able to appreciate past connections without mourning the losses. None of us are 35 and single anymore. It makes perfect sense that our lives moved on, sometimes one step back and two forward, sometimes hand-in-hand and sometimes off on our own paths. I'm forever grateful to have connected with people who were serious about sobriety, serious and full of fun. Stupid, boring and glum? Hardly

Speaking of time marching on, I ran into a pal of an ex's at the grocery store. He and the ex have started running again, after several years off due to various injuries. It seems like whenever I see people out and about, the conversation invariably goes towards, "Where on earth did the years go?" Where, indeed. A few friends are working and several retired with a few more looking for work, And those of us who are retired are questioning what we thought we'd be doing in our so-called golden years. My house isn't spotless, and I haven't written another novel. How do I think about that? Am I lazy, self-indulgent with my walking events and coffee dates, meetings and Step work? Or maybe, what I thought at one time simply doesn't fit today. In my younger years and the workaday world, there were timelines and aspirations, places to go and people to see. Today seems more about (finally) living in the moment. I don't think there will be a test at the end -  "Oh, you never read War and Peace? Tsk tsk". Any "test" would be in my own heart. Did I live my values? Was I kind to others? Did I follow my dreams? 

How do you feel about your physical age? Does it harmonize with your internal sense of who you are? If you sponsor, how does that relationship inform your own program? How do you honor and appreciate past friendships without drifting into "What if?" land, or "I wish it were different?" If there is a test at the end, what questions would your heart ask?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Coming home...

 In the very early morning hours at the Rome airport, waiting for my flights home to begin, I watched a pigeon soaring through the concourse, seeming to do a loop and then back again. I hope she found her way out. Watching her follow the same path made me think of our recovery saying about doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Are there places I still keep trying what doesn't work, like trying to run the show or thinking I know best for someone else? Always a good point to ponder when I feel myself bumping up against a person, place, thing or situation.

While I was away, a friend asked if I was disconnecting from social media or contact with home in order to meditate while I walked. Not really....  I enjoy posting photos of my days (as I like to follow friends on their journeys), and kept in touch with my husband and a few friends. I remember the days of buying postcards on Day One, searching for stamps and a post office for mailing in the hopes the card would get to the sendee before I got home, along with buying a specific type of card in order to make a payphone call home. These days, other than accounting for the time difference, I can stay in daily contact if I so desire, which can be reassuring as a reminder that yes, I am connected to my life at home, and helpful for my spouse to know I'm getting along fine..

Last year's Camino walk was a celebration - of turning 70 and marking my 40th year of sobriety. This year's trek, shorter though definitely a challenge with very steep hills, was more of an adventure. Members of our group of 12, five of whom I'd met last year, ranged in age from 39 to 80, from novices to experienced trekkers. I appreciated the silent stretches along the way as well as the miles of intense conversation (family, politics, health)., and cheering on those who'd doubted their abilities. Will I do it again, with this particular goal and group? Hard to say. I've found that I do like walking through the countryside with stops along the way. More will be revealed, but for today I'm very happy to be home.

The recent Time magazine had an article describing how people talk less than we used to - we text rather than call, work from home, use the self-check out line at the grocery store, and I'll add my pet peeve - don't say "hello" back when greeted on the street. The article notes a study that measured an average of 120,000 fewer words spoken per year (16,600 words per day in 2005 compared to below 12,00 in 2019) and the personal and social consequences when we don't interact. (Even small talk with strangers was noted as important.) One more reason I'm grateful for our 12-Step programs, where talking is part of what we do - a community of like-minded others where we share what is on our  minds or hearts. 

It's been damp here in the Pacific Northwest as I acclimate back to home, allowing low-energy jet lag to guide my plans. Life goes on, and I can heed the inner voice that whispers, "Relax." To that end, I had a massage this week, in the building that used to house our family doctor while I was growing up. I saw our General Practitioner from about age 8 to 32, through many of my life's pivotal moments. I had pneumonia when I was 13, afraid he'd be able to tell that I'd started smoking. I distinctly remember him telling me, in 1980, that quitting smoking was the best decision I'd made, and then referring me to a counselor as I wept in his office after my dad died. A few years later, before a female-related procedure, I elected to tell him about my methamphetamine use, in case I'd need more anesthesia than normal. And then again, him praising my decision to get clean and sober in1986. He was something of a father-figure, a good guy, a holistic practitioner, and in a slightly removed way, a part of my story. (like the pharmacist who refused to sell me syringes, or that counselor who said she couldn't see me anymore unless I quit using.)

And, the beat goes on. I heard a 5th Step a few weeks ago, and this week, Steps 6 & 7. Such an honor to be trusted, and to be trustworthy. I'm working through the Steps with another sponsee, and with my own sponsor. As someone recently remarked, the Steps have become integrated into who I am and how I approach the world. "The road gets narrower," for me, simply means that I don't have to think too hard anymore about the right thing to do.

Are there areas where you engage in the same way, expecting different results? How can you detach from those old habits? Where, or how, do you feed your need for social connection? Are there people from your past who, while perhaps not directly impacted by your drinking or using, were a part of your story? How has practice of the Steps become more automatic as time goes on?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Walking, remembering, moving along

 Here I am, in the countryside of Tuscany, walking, walking, walking. On the Camino last year, I discovered the joy and peace of simply walking, with nothing much to decide each day other than what to have for lunch. My life at home isn't all that complicated, but does call for decisions and choices and appointments and obligations - none of which are troubling, and are actually comforting, and being out of the normal routine can feel cleansing, a re-set.

And as I walk, I seek to spend time in contemplation, a walking meditation. I recently read Speaking of Faith, by Krista Tippett, an enlightening book about modern human beings' various approaches to the idea of faith, and how spirituality often gets complicated by the rigors and rules of organized religion. She speaks to the dichotomy of mystery and our desire for certainties, "what we believe we know, and what we can never know for sure in time and space," which she calls a creative tension. Like in our 12 Step programs, it's the tension between action and surrender, letting go and doing the footwork. How to hold the world gently, wear the program like a loose garment? For me, it's related to not expecting guarantees. Dang it. I want to know. I remember saying something to that effect in a meeting years ago, to which another member cross-talked with "What's the fun in that? If I already know how something will turn out, why make the effort?" I often hear or read about staying curious vs fearful. A reasonable goal.

And in the meantime, I walk along a path that pilgrims have covered for centuries, believing that the walking, the destination, would prove their faith. I don't believe in that kind of higher power, the kind that requires me to validate my beliefs, which seem to ebb and flow over time. I can appreciate my connection to humanity, whether to the medieval pilgrim or my own family tree, knowing I have my own path.  

I had a lovely time in Florence on my own for a full day of being a tourist before joining the walking group. Something the Camino experience last year taught me, or rather reinforced, is that I am much more competent than I give myself credit for. I did get "lost" a couple of times, but no big deal as I wandered the lovely streets.

 I couldn't help but remember the first time I was here in 1983 celebrating my 29th birthday without seeing my mother or my cousins, born on the same day, for the first time ever. I was lonely and drunk and argumentative with my boyfriend, who I would've told you meant everything to me, but I sure didn't act like it. I was dreadfully hungover and nauseous walking up the stairs of the leading Tower of Pisa, arguing in a restaurant in Rome, crying when the Trailblazers dubbed in Italian came on TV,  saying, "I just want to be home" hoping that meant he would be home too. It was one of those turning points I didn't recognize at the time, with the realization in hindsight that my sense of home and his were completely different. We went to Cypress where he had purchased an apartment so I could be there part of the year with him, which scared me. I didn't want to be so far from my mom and couldn't imagine what I would do all the time he was in Jeddah working. It was very soon after I got home that I was introduced to the meth cook and my total and utter downfall began. Not that my alcoholism wasn't already in the spiral, but that certainly hastened things along - the darkest period of my life, leading to the awful gift of desperation. 

And...I can follow that painful recollection with the two times I was here with a close friend,  making sober memories. You don't get "here" from "there," they used to say, but here I am. Two people in my group this week have asked about the AA patch on my backpack,  or why I don't drink. It's nice to share a piece of my story, and hear theirs and where we have similarities.  

When I cried myself to sleep in 1983, as the chilling vapor that is loneliness took over, I couldn't have imagined being here, in a nice hotel, having walked 12 miles today,  with my dear spouse holding down the fort at home. I am beyond grateful that my life, my sober life hasn't been limited by my narrow perspectives. Onward!

How do you re-set in your life or your program? What are the strengths you sometimes forget you have? How does your life look differently than you might've thought when you first got sober? Have you forgiven yourself for past mistakes? How about mistakes made in the here and now?

Onward

Here I am, killing time at SeaTac while awaiting my flight to Italy. I like airports - the hustle and bustle of people going here and there, joyous reunions and sad good-byes, the anonymity as well as the potential for camaraderie at the gate or in line at the coffee shop.

I've got my fingers crossed that I get to my destination in time for the 6pm English speaking AA meeting, which will be my only opportunity for 12 Step fellowship as most of this trip will be in small towns, and I'll be traveling with a group. I love going to meetings in other cities and other countries. I often think about a meeting a friend and I attended in Prague years ago where the locals were very hopeful one of us would share our story as they'd heard each other ad nauseum. In Beijing, China we saw a fellow we recognized from home, and in Shanghai, I was asked to lead at the meeting in a fancy hotel conference room - how fun is that? My husband and I shared our stories at our friend's meeting in Belfast when we were there a few years ago...  The fellowship is alive and well all over the world. And I know that travel isn't everyone's cup of tea, but it is part of what feeds my soul. As does then coming home. For me, it's the striving for that ever elusive sense of balance, of adventure and the comforts of home.

When I look at my life in bits and pieces, there have been some very hard times, times I felt that the Universe was misaligned. But stepping back a few feet to look at the whole of it, I have been very fortunate indeed, which I attribute to sobriety. Once, when I was involved with a chronic relapser and  had moved into my old bedroom at home temporarily, my mother expressed her sympathy for my hard life. She was thinking of my father's death, my divorce, the ending of another important relationship, my addiction. I remember pausing a moment in the kitchen, then saying, "Well, actually, I have a wonderful life," citing what I'd learned about alcoholism, my education and career, what I'd learned from the painful episodes. Perspective. Perspective and distance. Time really does heal all wounds. The grief is still there. some memories still sting, but more as reminders than a weight to bear. 

One of my online home groups moved to public from a closed meeting in the last year or so. This week, a newcomer was there, bravely sharing their journey up to that point. Oh man, it was a few years before I could say much more than  my name in a meeting without bursting into tears. I so appreciate how we let each other be where we need to be, whether hiding in a corner, or sharing our tears. Whether I'm sharing my spiel, my "pitch," or what's on my heart at the moment, I find comfort in my seat, my place in the circle. I recently heard a woman with 41 years say she is in more a place of listening than talking. I get it. There isn't much going on these days, though I use the Steps as my daily guide, not just in times of trouble (exhaling). I can certainly create drama, internal or otherwise, but overall, can be grateful for the calmness, knowing This, too, shall pass. I sometimes have a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop, but time and experience have shown me that's not how it works. ODAT I'll be grateful for what today brings, including a very long flight followed by a train ride. Onward!

What makes your heart sing these days? How do you view the whole of your life? Maybe a rollercoaster or a smooth ride?  If you are a meeting go-er, how do you carry the message, either overtly or by example?

Fears

 On a morning walk this week, I passed a stained and funky couch, half on the sidewalk, half on the street. It made me think of the old commercial (for Volkswagen??) where two young guys loaded a discarded chair or couch into their vehicle, realizing just a few blocks later that it was way too stinky to take home. That made me wonder how many people younger than me would get the reference, which made me marginally nostalgic for the days when there were three or four TV stations resulting in a shared frame of reference. Going to school, and those early jobs post high school, we'd talk about the previous night's episode of Laugh-In or maybe the Mod Squad. Never again, now with hundreds of channels and streaming services and podcasts galore.

Which is just one more reason I appreciate our 12-Step programs - the shared frame of reference. My "pitiful and incomprehensible" may look different than yours, but we all know what it feels like to put the bottle or the bag in front of everything we hold dear. Like Dr. Bob said about Bill W - Here was someone who spoke my language. I can go to any meeting anywhere and while the customs might be a tad different, the basic message is the same.

Speaking of language, I'm heading to Italy soon to do a five-day walk along the Via Francigena, the whole of which goes from Canterbury in the UK to Rome. I'm just doing a portion, in Tuscany, joining up with a couple of women I met on the Camino last year after my friend broke her ankle. An adventure! Due to some shifting circumstances, I'll have a couple of nights on my own in Florence up front, and one night in Rome at the end. I've been to Italy, both before and after sobriety, but it's been a very long time, so I've been checking out Facebook groups for tips (like, only use the white cabs that say "taxi"). Most of it is common sense, as in, be mindful of one's surroundings, but I found myself in a bit of a twitch with the "what if's??" Kind of like before the Camino last year, I've been picking up on other people's anxieties, so I made the decision to stop lurking on social media. I am a seasoned traveler. I appreciate specific instructions on catching the train, but don't need everyone's worries about wearing the right shoes, looking like a tourist (I am a tourist - I don't mind looking like who I am; I just don't want to act like a tourist), what to do about (fill in the blank). And, this time next month I will have gone and returned. 

And right on time, from Richard Rohr's daily email (4/30), "Ask yourself regularly, 'What am I afraid of? Does it matter? Will it matter in the great scheme of things? Is it worth holding on to?'” Am I afraid of getting lost, or of looking stupid? Well, I've never been so lost I didn't get home, and there probably are times I've looked stupid, which matters SO much less these day (A. No one is paying much attention to me and B.if they are, to heck with them!). Am I worried about pickpockets (a valid concern in tourist areas)? Well, I've taken the advice of how to care for my passport and cash.  Am I afraid of something terrible happening to me while I'm gone, or to a loved one back home? Well, all I can really do is make sure my papers are in order in case I'm the one with the problem, and remind myself that I can always come home early if needed. Of course, I could just stay home, forever, but don't most accidents happen within five miles of home?

The Big Book tells me what to do with my fears - set them on paper, and then ask if I'm relying on myself rather than the infinite Universe - not a deity on a throne handing out kudos or consequences. More like trusting that this life with its ups and downs has a way of working out. I can stay out of my own way and not manufacture my own misery. 

Last week I heard a Fifth Step, and did Step One work with a new-to-me fellow long-timer. Over the weekend, hubs and I spent time with pals, not in an AA setting, but with the program as the framework for who we are and how we came together. As an Alanon reader reminds me, gratitude is a spiritual elevator, and I so often feel that when I'm with like-minded others.

My faux step-daughter had a birthday this week (we say I'm her pre-step mom, married to her father before he met her mother). For a year or two after her dad died, we were in close contact, now that both of her parents are gone. She lives out of state, and as time has passed, our contact is more sporadic, but I'm grateful for the connection, the connection I certainly wasn't expecting when my first husband and I got back in touch in the few years before he passed. Some of the greatest gifts in my life are the ones least expected, like my actual step-daughter, now a grown woman living her dream.

Time marches on, in my own life and the lives of others. Sometimes, allowing for time zone differences, I'll imagine what my former sis-in-law in the UK is doing - having afternoon tea perhaps? Or what about all the 12 Step meetings that are occurring simultaneously around the world, some in the morning and some at night? So grateful to be part of the solution today.

What do you do to re-center if you feel yourself picking up on other's anxieties or moods? Do you utilize the fears inventory, or some other process when you find yourself focused on "what if?!" ? Who, or what, is on your gratitude list today?

Keep coming back

 I found myself a little teary in a meeting this week as the chair spoke to staying aware of how I make ongoing amends to myself with nurturing actions. After a week of extended "conversations" with chat-bots, a week of attempting to manage outcomes, a week of tuning fork energy, I felt my shoulders release as I thought about a day when I opened a window near the couch in order to hear the rain while I wrote in my journal, or the few moments I sat on the deck after pulling weeds. How often am I conscious of stepping outside the DO NOW imperative? How often do I stop to really notice those little things that bring me pleasure, like clean sheets on the bed, a cup of tea in a favorite mug, the perfect fine point pen? 

I'm thinking of one of my daily readers that reminds me to increase self-care when I'm feeling stressed, when the first reaction might be to skimp - on sleep, on quiet time, on healthy food. And, a tool I picked up awhile ago - instead of going in to Superwoman mode, stop and remind myself that any reasonable person would be stressed if X,Y and Z were going on in their life. And truthfully, it doesn't have to be negative stuff. I can get just as twitchy when positives are on the horizon. Now and always, remember that it's one day at a time, and that right here, right now, everything is OK. Sure, there are things/tasks that need doing, and I'm not in charge of the whole, entire universe (and I can only do one thing at a time).

And I hope I never get to a place where I'm no longer moved in meetings, no longer impacted by hearing others find their spark or share their grief, or describe what I hadn't had words for. Sure, over the years there have been times I thought, "Oh man, not another feeling,"  but I've never stepped away from meetings. Funny enough, when I'm feeling over it, the solution seems to be to go to more meetings, online, in-person, or out of town. I can be tuned out, then suddenly the room seems to levitate with someone's honesty and I think, "Oh yeah. That's why I keep coming back." 

A few times recently I've heard people share that they appreciate we long timers who continue to attend meetings. But, what else am I going to do? Where else will I find such a bond with like-minded others, or have the opportunity to practice the "carry the message" part of Step 12? I know meetings aren't for everyone - some of my favorite everyones don't go anymore - and, this alcoholic needs the human connection, especially with zoom, where I can regularly see people who live in other parts of the country. 

I heard a Fifth Step yesterday - always grateful for the honor of trust, the gift of being present for another's self-exploration. Later this week I'll meet with a fellow long-timer to start through the Steps with Numero Uno - always a wakeup, no matter how long I've been sober. What am I powerless over today? Or more accurately, where am I tying myself in knots with my efforts at power and control?

How do you, or will you, be conscious of on-going amends to yourself with nurturing actions or self-talk? Whatever the task, are you able to do it gently? Whether meetings are your thing or not, where do you find connection? How does Step One play out in your life today?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

How am I living, today?

 I may have written about this guy before, but I recently saw an online article about Ron Shaich, the founder of Panera and his practice of doing a "pre-mortem," his version of inventory related to aging and thinking about one's end of life. I've read that Buddhists suggest contemplating one's own death regularly. Shaich recommends contemplating one's life, asking whether you'll feel good about how your spent your time, when the end is near. My good friend references that idea when someone we know has passed, saying, "I hope they felt good about how they lived." As I said to another friend, this stuff is no longer academic. I can deny that I'm human, that death is closer than my birth, I can obsess about the end, or I can try for middle ground - aware, realistic, conscious of time passing. If I can't answer "I'm good" to the "Any regrets?" question, is there anything I can do to change my views, my behaviors, my things un-done?

It goes back to the notion of cooperating with reality, which in some ways, points back to the HALTS. Am I tired, either from not sleeping well or just because? Well then, take a nap. Am I hungry, either for healthy food or a healthy conversation? Am I lonely, for people or for my own solitude? Angry (or any intense emotion)? It's so often related to paying attention - not to the triggers in my world, or the world at large (and boy, are there many in the public sphere), but to the still, small voice. Sure, the trigger(s) gets my attention initially, but what is under that? What emotion or longing is trying to get my attention? If I'm fortunate enough to be aware when the end of my life nears, will I be present? Will I have lived with integrity and honesty? Not perfectly, not without the occasional cranky mood or self-centered thought, but generally anchored in the principles of the program? 

I am noticing that I need more time to (metaphorically) catch my breath these days. The days and nights of six things on the agenda just doesn't work anymore. I am naturally energetic, but for a long time in early recovery, part of that was fueled by making up for lost time. As a friend once said, "I got sober to do shit, not just think about doing shit." Yes, and, the definition of "doing" has changed over time. I don't think I'm alone in that. I hear more and more people acutely aware of the passage of time, from a youngster in sobriety to now an old person. I will admit that I tend to think of "old" as someone 5-10 years older than me, but the truth is, I am gratefully old, in both human and recovery years. What am I to do with that?

While reading How it Works in a meeting this week, I thought about a few people in treatment who debated/wondered whether they lacked the capacity to be honest, that maybe they were incapable of being honest with themselves. I doubt they stayed sober, looking for an out before they'd even started. I used to do that - tell myself "I can't" in order to save myself from the embarrassment of failing. Realizing that no one who mattered really cared gave me the courage to take small steps outside my comfort zone, leading to college degrees, marathons, friendships, travel. What are the boundaries of my comfort zone today? No longer two inches from my nose, but what is a restrictive "comfort zone" and what is merely well earned "comfortable?" Again, paying attention. Is fear the underlying driver of my decision, and if so, what am I actually afraid of?  I shared a bit of anxiety about upcoming travel with my sponsor this week, and she essentially said, "It will be what it will be." Oh, right. Me worrying will not impact the outcome, whatever it is I'm concerned about. Turn it over. Get out of the way. Get on with today. 

What might be on your "pre-mortem" inventory? Are there any amends that need doing or conversations waiting to be had? What is that one thing you'd regret not doing/seeing/experiencing were it all to end tomorrow?  (and if there's nothing on that list, congratulations)  How are you getting to know your aging self? What fears and/or joys pop up when you speak about it? How does acceptance play a part in getting older?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Judgements

 Oh man. I hate to admit this, but I got scammed by a fake, but authentic sounding, WhatsApp message regarding a hotel reservation in Italy next month. The good news is that almost immediately after entering my credit card info, I thought, "Wait a minute!" and called the booking site. Sigh. Yes, they said, we will never ask for your credit card info in that manner. More good news is that I called the bank and they cancelled my credit card while letting me know about their "no fraud liability" protection, so nothing would've been charged. But still. Me, who prides myself on being scam-savvy, fell for the ask. Sleepy, in a bit of a hurry, alarmed by the "act within 24 hours or lose your reservation."  Reminder to self - buyer beware, and always check the original source (i.e. if the "bank" phones, hang up and call them yourself). Living and learning, while being so very frustrated and angry at those who'd take advantage of others' good and trusting natures. 

And, always a good reminder to check my judgements because invariably, when I've thought, "Oh, I'd never do that/fall for that/make that mistake" there I am, making the mistake. That reminds me of a conversation 35-40 years ago with someone who said they'd NEVER be with a married guy, and not six months later, found themselves in the back seat of a married guy's car, having at it. Beware the Ides of "I shall never..."  Especially in early recovery we could sometimes be a bit holier than thou. It took awhile to understand that people are people, that some folks get sober without AA, the different strokes for different folks business (and thank you Alanon for ongoing lessons), and that not everyone behaves in the way I think they should.

We went to our in-person home group this week with a full house, including a few fellows from sober living. A person took a 30 day coin at the start of the meeting, and later, a fellow shared who'd been sober since 1972. I chatted with him after, about the miracles of long-term recovery, and how I never dreamed I'd keep coming back all these years. I don't know what I thought would happen, but happy, joyous and free in the long run wasn't part of it. 

I saw my oncologist this week for my every-six-months check-up. All good, but how odd it feels to say, "my oncologist." Again, not something I'd ever imagined, and here I am, joining the ranks of what almost seems like a rite of passage - cancer survivor (or other medical diagnosis warrior). It's been three years now for me, five for my spouse, and I'm very aware we are the fortunate ones, first of all to have responded to treatment positively (yay early detection) and most of all, to have the tools of recovery to guide us through the sometimes scary, sometimes lonely walk - and only lonely until I say something and discover all the "me too" people out there, some further along the path and others just beginning. Again and always, so grateful for community.

On another note, I subscribe to a weekly email called "Sermons on the Couch," kind of like this blog but not recovery focused. This week, the author quoted Samriddh Dasgupta, speaking to our need for quiet, as saying, "We've normalized overconsumption. Podcasts while walking. Doom-scrolling on the toilet. Netflix while eating. Something is always filling the silence. We're becoming scared of our own thoughts. Our minds have no breathing space. We're feeling groggy and mentally exhausted. Of course we are. Our brains never get a break. Boredom is the cure." 

I don't plug in earbuds while walking, and do have periods of silence during the day (usually) but I will admit to fear of "boredom," thinking of the old adage, "If you're bored, it means you are boring." But I don't think that's what the author is getting at. Boredom in this sense isn't about sitting around bemoaning that I have nothing to do. I see it more as being OK with non-productivity, leaving space for the intuitive or creative thought. It's definitely taken time to release my grip on the To Do list. Oh, I do have one, but I'm not feeling like a failure at the end of the day if I haven't "done" anything measurable (and my definition of measurable can shift from week to week). A few years ago, I told myself it was OK if I had my mother's retirement, her of routines and phone calls and road trips. I now realize she likely didn't feel well long before she told us so, hence her daily games of solitaire at the kitchen table, and she was definitely a creature of habit. My habits are different, but "Hi Mom" I do come by them naturally. 

So, 4th month, perhaps 4th Step? Where might I benefit from inventory? For no particular reason, it does feel a bit like the ground is shifting beneath my feet. A good friend recovering from a medical emergency, a big trip canceled, spouse planning retirement and a medical adventure (knee replacement), the big house projects done, for now...  Step 4, yes, and always, Steps 3 and 11  - making a decision while remembering none of it is in my ultimate control. If my idea is true, that long term recovery is about conscious contact and taping into my spiritual source, how do I actually practice that, especially when it can so often feel like the days get away from me? Step 10 isn't just the wrong I do others, but sometimes, perhaps, the pressures I put on myself, whether that's my calendar or my old ideas around perfection. One day at a time, one decision at a time - which could be the decision to either step it up, or lighten up. 

How do you get to self-forgiveness if/when you've made a mistake? What judgements, of yourself or others, gets in the way of your serenity? If you over-consume (noise, news, food) or over-schedule, what is one small change you can try this week to invite in peace?

* * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

A Day Early...

I'm posting a day early with a friend coming in to town and our plan to hit the ground running tomorrow. OK, hit the ground hiking, but you know what I mean...

 When I think of my growing up years, the little kid time, what comes up is freedom - climbing to the top of a very tall pine tree (with my mother, trying to stay calm, saying "Come on down honey."), flying down this or that hill on my bike, sometimes with a cousin on both the handlebars and back fender, the freedom of sneaking around, up and down the wood chute, or into the older cousin's room, climbing on roofs... I also found freedom in books - reading about faraway places and adventurous girls and boys.

And then came puberty, along with alcohol use, and the extreme bondage of self that characterized my teen years and beyond. There is a stage of adolescent development that includes the "invisible audience", the feeling that everyone is paying attention to you. They aren't, but you couldn't have convinced me of that. Barely existent self-esteem plus thinking everyone was judging me equaled fertile ground for alcoholism. 

In recovery, I got to rediscover freedom - freedom from addiction but also freedom to explore what it meant to be "me", freedom to try things I'd not let myself even imagine, freedom to become who I was perhaps meant to be all along. Some things took, others not, but the point was I had the new-found courage to check it out. Running, now walking long distances took. Team sports never did. I'd long thought about re-learning the piano. Never did.

I recently watched part of an interview with Gloria Steinem, now 92, talking about freedom that comes with aging, when you "outgrow the expectations" of earlier life. I've read that too - that in older adulthood we can return to things that brought us joy as children, before hormonal imperatives took us hostage. I probably shouldn't climb a tall tree or on the neighbor's roof, but I do still check them out. 

With a good friend in from out of town, I won't be hitting my regular meetings, but all our social engagements are with sober people. I've likely said this before, but lifelong friendships are not what I expected out of getting sober. Program friends that have lasted through the years, as well as relationships from school and after years. We had Easter with my sister-from-another-mother and her brood. I took the opportunity to pass on a little vase that someone gave my mother when I was born to my faux-nephew and his very pregnant girlfriend. Keeping it in the family, while the beat goes on.

What comes to mind when you think of your growing up years? Pleasant memories, or not so much? How about today? What freedoms do you enjoy that you hadn't known would be part of long term recovery? 

* * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Decisions/Acceptance

 A dear friend has recently been instructed by a medical professional to stop driving. Ouch. In some ways, that is a validation of something she has suspected for awhile now, but in another way - boy howdy, here is Aging with a capital "A". Again and again, we just never know how or when life on life's terms will show up.

In a discussion of that life on life's terms business, we talked about a softening of the internal armor, that "gird your loins!" of younger years when life was often viewed as a battle. I've notice that in myself - a new cooperation with reality, as another friend terms it. There is less struggle today. I may not like what is going on, but the reflex of fighting everything and everyone is barely a whimper anymore. 

In a meeting this week, someone spoke to our slogans as doorways, and what might happen were they to walk on through. I love that image, especially as I sat in front of a placard that read, "Keep it Simple." What might I see if I walked through that door? What would be the atmosphere, the aura of keeping it simple? Perhaps, while not letting go of my calendar, a more expansive and relaxed way of interacting with my days? Maybe breathing and allowing spiritual space between commitments rather than rushing from one thing to another? Maybe simply sitting in the garden after I've put down the trowel? Honestly, my schedule doesn't change all that much from week to week, but my relationship to it sure does. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Other times, I'm grateful for a full life. What is the difference? I wish I knew, because I prefer happy, joyous and free. 

What I will say is that the last three meetings I've been in have touched on aging, as in aging and acceptance. This is definitely an area where I can give up control, because I never had it! I'm  not powerless over how I choose to take care of myself, this physical body. I am powerless over genetics, and most of the environmental factors that contribute to my health, or lack thereof, as well as random blips that seem to come out of nowhere. As with all things, it is one day at a time, trusting I'll be given what I need to walk through whatever comes my way (which is a lot easier in theory, or in retrospect).

My cousin has reached the faraway island nation where she's been called to serve. I may not follow the same path as that part of the family, but I do understand the feeling of a calling, of a desire I just can't shake. For me it was working in treatment. After participating in a group session while I was in treatment with a Viet Nam vet, who, for the first time, talked/sobbed about what he'd been a part of when "in country," and the visible lightness after he'd dropped that burden, I thought, "I want to be a part of this." I had a similar feeling about wanting to walk on the Great Wall of China, writing my novel, as well as doing the Camino, not wanting to spend a lifetime thinking, "What if I'd....?"  Not that going on a long walk is the equivalent of a career choice or writing a book, but my belief  is that my true heart's desire(s) will find a way to make themselves known, with the path forward illuminated. 

I also know about the doubt that this family member has voiced. This doesn't feel good - did I make the right decision? How am I supposed to know? My counsel was to keep breathing and give it six months, much like I'd advise someone in a new job. Of course it feels awkward - you've never done this before. And I love it when I can drop some AA wisdom on people, like "Don't make any major decisions" right off the bat. Transitions are real. Transitions take time, no matter how much I think I "should" be able to immediately adjust to changed circumstance. 

Good reminders as I contemplate "I've been sober a long time - now what?" What is it that brings me joy? What quiet thought or feeling is nudging me one direction or another? What lurking "but you're supposed to..." nips at my heels?  I don't have answers today, and that's OK. I'll not drink and go to meetings. I'll maintain my volunteer activity. I'll get my hands in the dirt. I'll walk. And, I'll take a deep breath when  I feel myself veer towards "figure it out" mode. 

How does acceptance fit in your life today? What slogan speaks to you as far as walking through the door, and what would that feel like? Are there areas where your psyche would benefit from taking it easy?

* * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Covering the bases

 I heard someone once say that guidance is always available to me, if I'm paying attention. I tend to want neon lights: Go THIS WAY Jeanine!  But sometimes HP, the Universe, Spiritual Direction shows up as a middle-aged woman in sensible shoes, like the woman who went out of her way to walk me to my hotel when I was befuddled on last year's Camino. I can brush that off as simply a nice person, or I can look deeper to see that here was someone who embodied "You're never really alone." What is my choice to be?

This makes me think of the great and too short-lived TV series, Joan of Arcadia, about a somewhat surly teenage girl who, despite her protests, had "god" show up in all sorts of guises - a cafeteria lady or custodian at school perhaps, giving her tasks to perform that seemed mundane but had larger impacts - that ripple effect we talk about in AA. It was a really good show, a good reminder that appearances aren't always what they seem, and that insights or direction can appear in disguise. When I insist on expecting something to show up in a particular way, I shut myself off from the "sunlight of the spirit." And when I tell myself that a small action "doesn't really matter," maybe it really does, two or three increments further along the line.

I'm doing by best, ODAT, to release expectations and images about getting older, especially as I see public figures and celebrities passing, at 84, 86, 90... 84 no longer seems all that old! I have friends who are 77 and 78, others have hit 80, those who came into recovery as kids are now in their 50's. Time is an interesting thing, and I hope to have my own experience, neither cocky or afraid. I can listen to my elders, heed the caution signs, and simply keep moving (as my 90 year old gym mate suggests). 

One thing I'm doing, as I ramp up my de-clutter efforts, is ask myself if this or that item is something I'd take with me to a one or two room senior living apartment. I've been in those places, with the tiny shelf outside the hallway door where residents can personalize their entryway with seasonal decor. If I had one bookshelf, what would go on it? Family photos? Books I've read, or maybe those I haven't? Poetry or spiritual books? I have the King James Bible, the Koran, Rumi, Marieanne Williamson, Carl Jung...  Which do I actually read? Which would I carry with me? Would my huge collection of coffee mugs from around the world come to a new, smaller place? I've had a painted napkin holder on the kitchen table since Mom died, but we don't use paper napkins so it's become simply a catch-all for articles and scrap paper, recipes and disaster planning instructions. So long, napkin holder.

This does seem like the phase of existence for deepening my spiritual practice. There will very likely come a time when the outer world shrinks. Will my interior life sustain me? Kind of like when getting ready for a race or other walking event - it doesn't work to wait until the last week to start training. I'd think it's similar with my spiritual program. My Dad joked, half-heartedly, about "foxhole conversions" as he allowed the hospital chaplain to pray with him as his death neared. I guess you'd want to cover all the bases, especially if not sure how it all connects. Dad was mad at god for his dear mother's death - never mind that she was a heavy smoker, he wanted her alive and it didn't happen, sending his alcoholism into a spiral. But at the end, he may have had second thoughts. I don't welcome grief, but I am grateful that AA/Alanon teaches me to honor my feelings of loss when they happen, not run from the sadness, which, for me, is part of the spiritual connection, the conscious contact, the "all of me" part of Step 7. 

A book I read years ago talked about seeing a speck on the horizon, and as it got closer and closer, recognized it as god, or spirit. Where will I, where can I slow down my busy brain in order to recognize the higher power(s)? Are there things I can do today to deepen my spiritual practice? When I was in the diagnosis process with breast cancer, now three years ago, I prayed like mad in the MRI machine and while having an ultrasound - not for "don't let this be happening," but more repetition of the mantras I already use - the Serenity Prayer for example. I'm grateful that, once in treatment, I didn't have to stop smoking or stop eating fast food - I already had a reasonably healthy practice. With aging - do I want to spend my empty moments on YouTube or social media, only thinking to connect with HP when I'm in trouble, or staring down my own mortality?  The truth is, I am staring at my own mortality, not morbidly, but with some curiosity and a wee bit of trepidation. What's ahead? 

I get a medical and health related newsletter in my email, and this week had one with the title "18 Secrets to a Longer Life."  A lot of it is stuff I already do, like not smoking or drinking, and physical activity.  I like that the piece also mentioned spirituality, community and having a sense of purpose - that stuff can ebb and flow, but again and always, so grateful for program. It also mentions napping (yes!) and the importance of forgiveness. That's a good reminder - I tend to hold onto guilt for my way-old actions more than resentment at people. After a recent sponsor meeting, I wrote a forgiveness letter to myself - no fireworks, but a good reminder that there are always two sides to every story, sometimes three or four. I can hold on to the woe-is-me self condemnation, or move to gratitude for the sweet parts of the relationships I did have and the living amends I was able to make.

How does spirit/higher power show up in your life today? What is your spiritual practice these days? How might that have changed as you've dealt with life on life's terms over the years? What do you see when faced with your own mortality, or that of your loved ones? How can the tools of the program help you navigate the unknown?

* * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Reflections

 On my walk the other morning, I rounded a corner passing a bus stop with seven kids waiting to ride down the hill to high school. All but one of them had their nose (and their thumbs) in their phones. No giggling, no jostling around, no boys pretending not to check out the girls, no conversation. It made me a bit sad, the same way I feel when in line at the post office, or on a subway or bus, or at the airport - people and their screens. Entertaining? Sure. Informative? Often. And...  I called a friend once, and she exclaimed, only partially in jest, "You're not supposed to call me! You're supposed to text first to see if it's ok to call me." Sheesh. Now that you mention it, I rarely get voice mail anymore, and the phone doesn't ring too often (if we don't count telemarketing). It's a new and different world.

In a meeting this week, people spoke of the intuitive thought or action, the internal knowing (or very obvious clues) that lets me know I'm on the right path, or on one I need to avoid. It took awhile to get comfortable with self-trust, with a lot of newcomer questioning - "Is this HP's will or self will?" What I found over time is that if something flows smoothly, I'm in the right place. If it feels forced, maybe I could get out of my own way and let life unfold. 

And somewhat along those lines, in another meeting, the chair spoke to feeling stuck in particular areas - I could so relate. It got me thinking - am I feeling stuck because I'm bumping up against "should" or "have to" vs "want to"? As my observant spouse pointed out, if I really wanted to do the particular thing I'm thinking of, I'd be doing it. 

So then it comes down to action vs surrender, let go vs faith without works is dead. Easy does it, but do it. Ha ha ha. Once again, perspective and intention. Mae West is reported to have said, "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." How can I apply that to decisions today, especially as I seek being a human being vs a human doing, letting go of notions of "doing it right"?  A woman I know shared that she's been retired 8 years, and is just now feeling the internal exhale of releasing the agenda/schedule. Breathing, breathing...

And speaking of perspective, I hosted a gathering of cousins over the weekend as we bid bon voyage to one of the offspring (who's now in her 50's), off on the next phase of her life halfway across the world. In a follow up conversation, I reiterated how much I enjoyed spending time at the cousins' house growing up. With 6 kids, there was always something going on. In contrast, one of the twins said that she always appreciated spending the night at our house because it was quiet. I couldn't wait to get out of our somber home, with Dad's alcoholism and depression, while she looked to escape the drama of 5 siblings and her dad's much more dramatic alcoholism. 

 Do we always want what we don't have? No, but apparently we did back then, though didn't talk about it. And, an example of how my memories are often so different from others who were there. Sometimes I think my brother and I grew up in different households, and a dear friend remembers things from our late 20's that I have absolutely no recollection of (like a flight to Reno!). I have a sticky note on my computer screen that asks, "What else might be true?" I can apply that to distant days as well as something that might have me in a tizzy today. 

Spring begins on Friday, though it's felt spring-like here for a while now with flowers and trees in bloom. I've got round two of a head cold, so feeling a bit lethargic. Today I can practice self-care, in contrast to times I would've pushed through and made myself  keep moving. 

Is there anywhere in your life where the should's and the want to's bump up against each other? Does self-care come any easier in long term recovery? What situations or memories might benefit from asking, "What else might be true?" 

In-between

 I'm thinking this week about the in-between, the liminal state, the process of letting go of a way of being, whether the new way is defined or not. I'm thinking about my friend, now out of the hospital but with a ways to go before back to full health. I'm thinking of my spouse, on the verge of choosing a retirement date, and another good friend who is looking for work that fits this stage of their life and longings. My cousins' elderly father just passed, which if anything like my mother's dying, has them letting go of Dad-Alive to Dad-Gone. I'm thinking of a friend who is hanging on to the idea that they can control and enjoy their drinking while failing miserably (I said, "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but if you are alcoholic, there's no "every once in awhile.") I'm also thinking of a friend who is in the process of a major life decision, now wondering if they are truly being called to a new life or are in massive self-will

And what about me? I seem to be in a state of defining and redefining what it means to be retired, what it means to decide how I'll spend my days and how that shifts and changes, as well as the "should's" that are never quite quiet enough to ignore. Where shall I direct my energy and attention today? How will I balance active and passive pursuits? Where will I find balance between home and hearth and time with friends? And, more importantly, maybe there isn't really an "in-between." Maybe life is life, one day at a time, whether I'm on solid footing or not. Maybe I can choose to grow rather than being pushed by circumstance.

We just spent a few days with my husband's family in San Francisco - always a joy to witness the full spectrum of life - the little ones growing up before our eyes with the patriarch and matriarch at the other end, and us, feeling creakier walking those SF hills with each visit. A highlight of the trip, for me, was our All AA All Day fellowship infusion, with our early morning meeting and coffee after, a drive across the Bay for lunch with a good friend and another meeting, and back to the house in time to join our biweekly fellowship group online. I love how our meetings are the same, yet very different wherever we are. It's especially fun to get real-life hugs from folks I generally just see online. I wish I had words adequate to describe how I feel about AA to the friend who resists, the "I hope you hear something that makes you want to come back" without preaching. Attraction, not promotion can be tough, especially when it's someone I care about. 

As much as I love to travel, I really love coming home. It seems like even a brief break from the usual routines makes them all the sweeter - the same things that were kind of boring become endearing, whether a quiet cup of tea early in the morning or watching Jeopardy. Our two cats have been right outside the bedroom door each morning since we've returned. Did they do that while we were gone, waiting for the door to open and it never did? Very fortunate that my brother feeds them, though they haven't yet come out from under the couch (or wherever it is they hide) to officially thank him. 

And so, the beat goes on, sometimes predictably, sometimes not. My task, always, is to be in this moment - not thinking about last week's conversation or next week's calendar. I am a planner, but as I was taught years ago, the results are not up to me. 

What has your attention this week? Are there places where you see that your experience can benefit others? How about places where it is better that you remain silent? What does "home" mean to you today? Is it a place, or a state of mind? How do you carry the message of hope and recovery, directly or indirectly?

* * * * * *

There's still time for a new year inventory. The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

You just never know...

I got a call late last week that a good friend was in the ICU for emergency intestinal surgery. Wait - what?? We'd spent the day on Thursday texting back and forth about my May travel, and he was scheduled to leave town on an extended trip on Friday, instead, calling for an ambulance. I've alerted the troops (i.e. home group members) and have been to the hospital, working with another friend to try to access his travel documents in order to cancel (note to self - the computer/phone is great, and having a paper backup is a good idea for such unexpected emergencies). Once more, a reminder that you just never know. You really, really just never know.

Another friend is part of a small group that has been meeting over time, with a current focus on the 12 steps. Each member takes a Step and creates processing questions to facilitate going deep into the "what it's like now" portion of our program. I've always appreciated the small, in-home groups I've participated in - the current Cabal, a group that worked through One Breath at a Time, another group that worked the Alanon Steps, a focus on aging, a group we called To Old to Give a F***,  and plain old Step Groups over the years. I love my meetings, and there is something about sitting regularly with a closed group that allows for enhanced emotional honesty. 

One of the questions that April L. shared with me made me catch my breath: "If your recovery were no longer just measured by abstinence, how would you evaluate your spiritual awareness and condition today?" My immediate thoughts were around specifics - not running around on my partner, not stealing time, attention or money from loved ones or myself, all of which points to integrity - the walking the talk variety. I know what my morals and values are today, i.e. they don't change based on my circumstances or who I'm with. And today, what recovery looks like is showing up - going to the hospital even though my friend was unconscious/sedated, staying in touch with his family out of state, doing what little I could (and so very grateful that, as of this writing, he is out of ICU and on the mend). 

The question also makes me think of service on a less personal level - how am I part of the solution today, in ways big and small? A smile and "good morning" to those I pass when I walk (whether they reply or not), coffee cards I give to my favorite, or random, grocery store clerks at the holidays, fostering communication between neighbors, letting a car into MY lane. This week that meant accepting an invitation to go in the home of an older woman I chat with on my walks in order to view her amazing paintings (another reminder - it's never too late). 

I chaired my Alanon home group last week, marking the 40 year anniversary of walking in the doors, desperate for a magic formula that would convince my heroin addicted sort-of-boyfriend to get clean. I am so very grateful that I don't live with the active disease today, whether that man or a later partner who was a relapser. I'm so grateful for the inventories, outside help and tears that (eventually) brought me to a place of being able to look at the past - my growing up years - without staring. It has definitely been a journey, and one I will continue.

My topic for the meeting was from one of the daily readers that spoke to detaching from myself. I'm semi-proficient at detaching from others, but what about my own sometimes circular thinking? How do I ensure that my mind and my body are in the same place? It's no big secret, though I sometimes act (think!) as if I just obsess long enough, or in the "right" way, the situation will turn out to my liking. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn't and it is not my brain power that changes the weather or traffic, my spouse's workday, a friend's predicament. "One day at a time" can sound simple, but it continues to be a challenge for me. Right here, right now, all is well. My friend is doing amazingly well (being a marathoner helps), another friend received helpful and hopeful medical news, my brother is taking care of business in the newly widower department, and just for today, my spouse and I are healthy. Thank you to long term sobriety for having the tools to walk through whatever life throws my way - not always gracefully or automatically, but I get there, yes, ODAT.

How would you measure your emotional sobriety today? How are you of service, in ways big and small? Are you able to detach from your own thoughts when you find yourself in a quandary? What are you grateful for today?

  * * * * * *

Time for an inventory?   The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Trudging

 I was reminded this week of that the "road of happy destiny" is sometimes like a smooth, newly paved freeway and sometimes a twisty, muddy path through dense woods. Sometimes we trudge, sometimes we skip merrily along, and sometimes we need a flashlight to illuminate the way forward. 

Even after all this time it's not automatic, but usually that illumination comes via the Steps, with the path forward leading back to myself, to the still, small voice, to the quiet place within that knows, knows all is well, despite outward appearances. Health, relationships, employment/finances - yes, there are big deals and at my core I am sober and I am supported, by my own inner resources and by the fellowship. 

A friend says they rely on GPS - Grace, Peace and Serenity. I like it! Sometimes that's all it takes - a slogan, a particular phrase, the Serenity Prayer - to move me from worry to acceptance of what is in the here and now. Am I uncomfortable with some aspect of my existence? OK. Where does Step One fit in? If I can acknowledge my powerlessness, do I believe I will be restored to sanity if I let go of the illusion of control? Can I do an honest inventory, even if what I recover/discover about myself could move me beyond my current comfort zone?

It's interesting/funny/ironic how I can still, at times, hide from myself. A sticky note on my computer says: If you know the answer, ask a bigger question. That can feel scary, throwing me back to early sobriety when I thought that taking Step 3 would mean selling all my worldly possessions and moving to Calcutta to work with Mother Theresa. Having not been raised with any kind of punishing God, why do I so often wait for the other shoe to drop, as if one is only allowed so much good at a time? Do I really think that if I "turn it over" I'll be lead down a road I don't want to travel? So much of what I've read suggests that our heart's true longing will never lead us to a terrible place. Sure, sometimes I am asked to push myself a bit, but/and here I am - 71 years old,40 years sober, plugging along. 

I love this quote from Pico Iyer - "The fact that nothing lasts is why everything matters." Some decisions matter more than others - what to have for breakfast vs shall I take this job? And, the important piece for this alcoholic/alanon-ic is to pay attention. Am I reacting to the here and now, or something from there and then? Am I so stuck in my head that I don't notice the beauty around me? Am I so focused on my To-Do list that I shortchange the people who  might need my attention? I think of conversations with long-gone loved ones. Did I notice at the time how precious those relationships were? Did I say everything that needed to be said? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I will say that one of my (smallish) regrets is that years ago now I think I saw a former co-worker at the grocery store, an older woman I sat next to for several years. I wasn't sure it was her, and didn't say anything. I'm now pretty sure it was her and wished I'd spoken up - a reminder that when my first instinct is to connect, or to be kind in some way, go for it. 

I'm reading an autobiography that references a movie about death, that when one gets to the pearly gates they must choose a memory to inhabit for eternity in order to pass through to heaven. Man, that has me thinking! Would it be my wedding day in 2011 A perfect date a few years earlier? An AA meeting on the beach in 1987, or hilarity with my cousins in the 1960's? How can anyone choose one memory, especially as a sober person? I'll continue to ponder that one, incredibly grateful that I have so much joy to choose from.

What is the road of happy destiny looking like for you this week? If you're in need of a flashlight, which Step(s) can guide your way? Is there a particular slogan or saying that brings you back to center? How do you remind yourself to pay attention if your mind wanders to the past or future? What might be a memory you'd inhabit if you needed to choose?

* * * * * *

There's still time for a new year inventory. The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Secrets and ism's

 A meeting this week on the topic of Steps 4/5 evolved into discussion of secrets. and the gratitude of living in such a way that I/we don't need to lie anymore. In talking about childhood, several spoke of family secrets. I don't exactly relate to that. Dad was alcoholic, as was my uncle (and several others) but Mom and his sister talked about it fairly openly and I came to understand it as a sickness, though didn't really understand what that meant. Rather than a secret, I just think that we (me, cousins, close friends) didn't have language to talk about what went on at home. I knew my uncle could be violent and my dad was sad, but emotional maturity and vocabulary would come much later.

Of course I lied as a kid, all the time. I wasn't about to tell Mom about the shoplifting or sneaking out, talking too much in class or in trouble for eating candy when I wasn't supposed to. If I'd had the words, maybe I could've said I felt stifled by the quiet at home, the somber mood with Dad's depression, and that stealing and running around and later drinking made me feel alive. Instead, I fibbed to her, and talked with friends about the TV show we'd just watched, or the cousin's older brothers' cute friends. Honestly talking about how I felt came later, with a few drinks, and even then I was more or less guessing - taking a stab at what I thought was right.

In Speaking of Faith, by Krista Tippett, this journalist and theology student writes about her participation, at a spirituality based institute, sitting around a table with strangers, talking about their truths, and the beauty in sharing honestly and in detail about feelings and spiritual longings. Anyone in 12 Step would say, "Well duh!"  That's what can happen for us in the sacred circle, the imaginary campfire, where we can access our innermost thoughts. Not every time in every meeting of course, but there are times when the room almost levitates with the poignancy of our collective heart-speak. It's like dominoes, with one sharing opening the door for another. Sometimes meeting shares are one's spiel, the pitch, but sometimes I hear the cosmic exhale of capital "T" truth, the truth that brings tears to my eyes whether I directly relate to the topic or not. Being real continues to feel immense. 

I've seen my ism's at work this week with a change of plans for a trip planned later this spring. A couple of people have dropped out, which has me re-thinking my plan, which had me in a bit of a frenzy with "Do something NOW!" before I had all the facts. I am, sometimes quickly, usually slowly, learning to pause and gather information before taking action. By the end of the day's texts, one of the remaining travelers suggested that I do this instead of that, resulting in my "Oh yeah - that's a great idea!" Because I'd waited before acting, I didn't have to try to undo an impulsive decision. Funny how that works.

I can trace that "do it now!" impulse back to growing up with alcoholism - the fear of missing out if the parents change their mind. Related to the family illness or not, I am still not very comfortable with ambiguity, though time and experience has, time and time again, showed me that all will be well, that all is well. And the best piece of advice I've ever received - if it's a good idea today, it will be a good idea tomorrow.  Indeed.

What secrets did you keep, as a child or a practicing alcoholic?  Have you been able to share those with a sponsor or trusted other? Where do your ism''s show up these days? Are you able to take a step back to recognize when you're about to act on an old idea?

  * * * * * *

Time for a new year inventory?   The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

How important is it?

 My spouse shared on Step 7 at a speaker meeting this week, and 7 will be the focus of my next sponsor meeting, so I'm thinking about "humbly asked" for our defects/unhelpful characteristic/defenses to be removed. 

The higher power that I don't understand does not sit on a cloud with a magic wand, waving my annoying characteristics away. If/when I'm truly inhabiting Step 7 related to a particular way of being, it is very likely that said habit or behavior will be in my face, almost daring me to do the same old thing, or shift my response even 2 or 3%. Awareness, being awake and conscious of how I am in the world is the first component of change. though I can't change based on self-knowledge alone. I also can't change what I don't accept. If I am fighting a particular part of my personality, it is the fight that gets the energy and psychic attention. What might happen if I said, "Ah, here I am again acting impulsively" or judging or whatever it is that comes up? If, as the 7th Step prayer says, "I'm now willing that you have all of me," might that be an acknowledgement of my humanness?   

The Alternative 12-Steps (M. Cleveland and Arlys G) describes Step 7 as  "Work honestly, humbly and courageously to develop our assets and to release our personal shortcomings." To me, "release" is gentle, progress not perfection, one decision at a time - which always comes back to the "pause." Pause ... and beware of the seemingly automatic.

I had the beginning of a funky day last week, setting out to pick up one of my regular cancer patients for her treatment, only to discover a flat tire. Sigh. A flurry of phone calls and texts to let her know, and to get roadside assistance, limping to the tire store for a 2 hour wait, and eventually back into my plans and designs for the day. When working, I used to pause in the parking lot and say, "I wonder how my agenda will be disrupted today?" knowing that it would, because people are people, both staff and clients. I could continue that practice as a retired person. Usually, my days are fairly predictable, and then...  And then, in the grand scheme of things, I have a safe place to sleep and enough to eat; people I love and who love me back; my health and my sobriety. As we ask in Alanon, "How important is it?"

"How important is it?" implies that there are things that matter, Do I allow myself to get quiet in the midst of a frenzy to determine whether I'll be concerned with the particular snafu/worry in 2 years, 2 months, or even 2 weeks? I've mentioned here before that I was instructed to open my "god box" every few years, noting what took care of itself and what is no longer a problem. I'm about due for that process, but will say that the last time I did it, I couldn't even remember some of the thing I'd written down. 

I'm assuming the disruption of the house-siding project will fit in that category, eventually. There are a few small jobs that need doing, but overall, we're done until painters come when the weather warms up. My spouse and I are both creatures of habit, and those habits have been mightily disrupted, with pounding and drilling, sleeping in the guest room, furniture moved around, cats showing their own dis-ease... And, today, all is well, all is quiet.

Speaking of quiet, I ran into our neighbor/homeowner - their rental next door to us has been empty for a few weeks as they make repairs and decide whether to sell or rent again, noting that there was 1800 pounds of trash hauled away. Wow. I'm sure for them, but for us too, it's been a challenge, with roommates coming and going (with and without notifying the rental agent), dogs barking for literally hours whilst their person was away, people here today and replaced the next. I chalk much of it up to urban living, and, there again, stability matters on this street with families, school age kids, and early risers (that would be me),  Definitely Serenity Prayer territory - what, if anything is in my control? Not much, other than perhaps reaching out to the new tenants when they move in. It's a lot easier to say, "Please be quiet" or "can you adjust your parking a few feet" to someone I have even a tiny relationship with, rather than in the heat of the moment if we've never talked. How important is it? And, let it begin with me. Also, stay in the day! Right now the house is empty. Anticipating is not helpful.

Yesterday would've been  my mom's 100th birthday. In honor of that, I took myself to a local cemetery, to visit the Wind Phone, a sort of arty, sort of woo-woo installation - a little open faced structure with an old fashioned pay phone inside - hooked up to nothing, going nowhere, but a real phone to dial the first  number I ever memorized. I cried a little, and laughed a little, and told Mom what I'd been up to, though in my belief system, she'd already know all that. It was sweet, and then I drove to the gas station, carrying on with my day. Grief is more a familiar companion these days, vs the acute loss of  early months. Time does heal - if not completely, at least the jagged edges are smoothed. 

In the midst of an upset, how do you get quiet in order to hear your inner voice of reason? What comes up when you're aware of/practicing Step 7? Where might you apply "How important is it?" today? How have you made friends with your grieving? How can the Steps help that process?

(If interested, search "Wind Phone near me" for one in your area. This started in Japan, but they are in many different locations these days)

  * * * * * *

Time for a new year inventory?   The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table

Accountability

 The Santa with sled and Rudolph I pass on my morning walks was cute in December, but seems a little forlorn as we enter February, though its presence lets me know I'm not the only one who procrastinates. Soon. I'll do it soon.

That "soon" is a reality as I've begun work on Now What II, planned as a collection of earlier posts, categorized and perhaps expanded, with processing questions. I do better when I have a specific goal. "Write" or "exercise your creativity" are too open-ended. I learned long ago that if I waited for inspiration, not much would get done. Writing, as I'm sure are most artistic expression, is about discipline, about taking the time, suiting up and showing up. And sometimes about making one's intention public for the accountability. 

On my walk over the weekend, I ran into an older neighbor, who was headed to an out of town gallery where she shows her paintings. I had no idea! She's in her 80's, and once told me she's hoping for another 10 years. I now have an invitation for a cup of tea to see her work. Inspiring, and a reminder that dreams and goal and inspirations don't have an expiration date. 

Speaking of elders, I visited an older cousin this week, an older cousin who's adult kids don't want the family artifacts she's been lugging around for years. I took the old family Bible and other documents, as we spoke of connections and those long, long gone.. I didn't reproduce, so for me, these are merely stories, though for others in our lineage, are links for their children and grandchildren to connect to the hard working folks who came before. Whenever I even think about whining about nearly anything, I remind myself that I didn't have to milk my own cows or churn my own butter, or keep a fire going through the night in order to get a start on the new day's bread. I have  much to be grateful for.

Speaking of grateful, I joined a couple of grade school pals for lunch last week, catching up, with a fair amount of "I remember when..." I suppose it's inevitable, to be grateful for the times one grew up in - the music, the freedom we enjoyed (and abused?) to run around the neighborhood unsupervised, the simplicity of the pre-tech era. And, I live in the here and now. I can appreciate much of my history, my era, but no one is served by my grousing about how things used to be. It is good to at least try to keep up. For me, that can mean detaching from social media or the "news," or watching an online "how to" tutorial on navigating a particular tech dilemma. It really is ODAT, one decision at a time. 

If procrastination is a characteristic getting your attention this week, what is a small thing you can do to get moving (or to release the "should's"). Are there goals or dreams that you might be thinking of as "I'm too old for that!"? How might you release that energy and move into acceptance of energy available in  the here and now? What tops your gratitude list today? If technology, or lack of knowledge, is a foe, how might you declare a truce?

  * * * * * *

Time for a new year inventory?   The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a table.