spiritual freedom

 One of my daily readers spoke to "spiritual freedom" this week - the inner freedom that is available to me no matter the outside circumstance. All I need to do is hold still, get quiet within to hear the still, small voice, that may not be a voice at all. I say "All I need to do" as if it is easy, as if I don't forget, daily, to get out of my own way and release the illusion of control. 

An example: I tend to get edgy, a little cranky, when my environment is messy (which is too bad, because I'm not the world's best housekeeper!). These past two week have been chaotic with on-going internet issues and moving dusty furniture and items around for carpet work. Knowing that about myself doesn't necessarily mean I naturally move towards self-care, towards getting centered. It takes awhile, still... And yes, I'm very aware these are "No whining on the yacht!" problems, but knowing that doesn't stop the tuning fork energy as I, again, contact the internet provider, and look at the piles of books, etc, wondering how to rearrange our space so that I don't feel claustrophobic in our home.

My brother is a minimalist (if you don't count his recorded music collection), once asking his wife to box up, or donate, all their kitchen ware save four plates and four sets of cutlery. OK, I kind of get that, though it would make for a lot more dishwashing at our house. He's kept many of her favorite items ( a few tea sets, little cat statues) and weekly buys a flower arrangement for the house in her memory. And, he's slightly appalled at what he sees as too-much-stuff when he comes to feed our cats when we travel. I'll never live as starkly as he, or as another friend who frequently moves and takes very little with him, but/and there is something to be said for simplicity.

Which points me to "Keep it Simple," both in my program ("Don't drink and go to meetings" still works for me) and in life in general. When working, I used to do food-prep for the week on Sundays, and still lay out my walking gear the night before, knowing the less I have to think about (regular) tasks, the more time I'll have for life in general. A past sponsee once said she thought of structure as constricting, but came to view it as a means to more freedom. I have more time for enjoyable stuff if I don't have to search for a clean pair of socks.

This week I'm visiting my good friend in the Land of Enchantment (New Mexico), here to attend the yearly San Geronimo Day festivities at the Taos Pueblo - ancient ritual in the glorious high desert as aspen leaves turn to gold. As much as I love the glories of home, and my daily routines, I very much love a change of scenery

What slogans are your fall-backs? How do you seek, and then recognize spiritual freedom? How do you consciously stay out of your own way?

Shifting seasons

 A cousin on my mom's side, who's lived on the east coast for decades, was in town last week, giving me the opportunity to pass on our grandmother's sewing basket, and a few photos from the 1920's. My mom was the saver of the four siblings, which means I have a lot - grandma's desk, with the little cubby holes for mail, photos (mom's grandfather was a photographer) and various small items. A lot of mom's stuff went to the Museum of the Oregon Trail, and I'm now glad to have identified a second relative who's interested in family history. 

And speaking of mothers, in one of my regular groups this week, someone shared about her mom's recent passing, and the question, "Who am I without my mother?" That brought tears to my eyes, now 10+ years since my mom died. This mother-stuff goes deep, whether it was a positive, negative or complicated relationship. When Mom first went on hospice, a meeting acquaintance pointed out that the journey of letting go is similar for us all, but very personal, depending on our relationship. And, what I learn from others, is that the relationship doesn't really die even though the person is gone. 

In another group, the topic was transition, along with downsizing as a friend prepares to move to a different city. Oh man - that one hit home as we prepared for carpet cleaning, which involved moving stuff off the floor - stuff, stuff and more stuff, including lots and lots of books, some read, some likely never will be. When my mom died, I ended up with three bookcases my brother didn't want. three bookcases just asking to be filled. One has mostly cookbooks, which I rarely open, another has a row of spiritual volumes, from my grandmother's Bible to the Koran to Rumi poetry, and another is chock full of recovery literature. I stopped buying books a few years ago (thank you public library) and am in that place, again, of asking myself, "If I moved to a one or two room assisted living place, what would come with me?" And yes, this is a recurring theme. I have to do a mini-10th Step with myself, asking "So how long are you going to complain about x,y,z before making a change?" Sigh...  how long, indeed.

Ans so, as the season changes (welcome autumn!) I will consider how this time of the planetary shift might open the door for a personal re-set. I've signed up for an adult "life long learning" program, with my eye on a few offerings, my seasonal elections work will begin soon, a couple of short trips on the docket, and, yes, piles of "stuff" to go back on the shelves when the carpet guy is done. I want to be more deliberate in my choices, both with physical items and with my time, as in how and where to spend this precious resource. What moves my Joy-Meter these days? Am I spinning-my-wheels busy, or busy with tasks and engagements I enjoy? I vow to pay closer attention to my gut, to my heart, one day at a time, one choice at a time.

What have you learned from loss? Has that shifted, as a person in long-term recovery? How might you utilize the energy of the season shifting to determine if any changes are in order? What moves your Joy-Meter today, and is there a reasonable balance between that and all the things that need doing?

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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

We can do together...

 We were in internet purgatory for a week and a half, which involved lengthy phone conversations with robots and humans, changing appointment times, spotty connections, blah blah blah. Due to the type of phone plan I've had, and going over my allotted minutes, I temporarily turned my smart phone into a dumb but serviceable phone only (calls and texts). I'll live, obviously, but my discomfort is an excellent indicator of how accustomed I've become to having a brain in the palm of my hand. As much as I complain about technology (more accurately, my lack of knowledge) I very much appreciate being able to check the weather in Timbuktu, describe a symptom to Dr. Google, or throw in a few words from the Big Book to learn what page the passage is on.

Luxury problems abound, depending on where I steer my attention. Is it "me, me, me - wahhhh!" or can I shift to "Ah, well, now I have more time for reading/gardening/playing with the cats"? I can turn just about anything into a "problem" or  I can focus on the MANY positives in my day. Bottom line, I am alive, sober and reasonably healthy, today.

I mentioned that I ran into the best man from my first marriage at the grocery store. I posted our picture, and, as expected, got many comments from people we grew up with. As a friend once pointed out, he grew up in a small town, while I grew up in a neighborhood - a neighborhood that encompassed our high school and the 8+ feeder grade schools full of  baby-boomers. Many of us stayed in the area, or our parents did, so it makes sense that I so often see those from "back in the day" at the store, or sometimes out for a walk.  

It's kind of like that in AA, with "neighborhood" defined by area of town and meetings attended (before or after covid). We share meeting lore, from old-times to newcomers and everyone in between, like the stellar Saturday nooner where many of us were watching The Sopranos on TV, often quoting from that week's episode in our shares, or dinners after the Friday meeting where we'd laugh so hard we could barely eat. And then there were 6 of us from that Friday group, plus 1, who went to Paris, with 4 of us running the marathon. I can remember shares from long ago, bits of wisdom I carry forward, sometimes conjuring the one who shared who's now in the big meeting in the sky (or is nowhere, depending on your belief system). 

So, yes, I love the neighborhood aspect of our program, but also the anonymity that has me relating to someone I've never seen before. A fellow chaired our group this week that I didn't know, and if I'd seen him out and about, wouldn't have recognized him as "one of us." I love how we can go incognito, out living our lives as people in recovery. Of course, there's the guy with the NA keychains hanging off his belt, or the young woman I saw at a race with "I've been clean for 6 months" on her t-shirt, but usually we're just going about our business, then sharing stories around the metaphorical campfire when we gather.  

And the whole thing about "we do together what we can't do alone" keeps coming up. This week was now the second time I was asked to sign as witness to a friend's end-of-life planning documents, and as I've shared, several times I've helped a program elder move into assisted living. I've shared details of my cancer journey with those newly diagnosed, just like I reached out (reluctantly) and someone shared with me.

I recently unearthed a book I "borrowed" from our grade school library called Put Your Best Look Forward. Originally written in 1957, it was outdated by the time I got to it in 1966 or 67, but I was so hungry for guidance that just about anything would do, even this book that had very un-feminist advice about how to develop "feminine allure" (Geez, I was 12...) with instruction on diet and exercise, having a pleasant voice, make-up - the whole shebang. Couple that with pop songs of the day (as in "I'm nothing without you") and no wonder I was thirsty! Back then I didn't know I could ask for help or advice - from Mom, friends, friend's older sisters, etc. Again and always, so grateful that I've learned I don't have to figure it all out on my own, whether that's silly, like asking a glamorous neighbor how to wear a particular scarf, or more seriously, how to walk through mine or a loved one's illness. Oh how I used to complicate things...

Who are your go-to's for life advice or support? How do you feel about asking for help these days? How might you move the meter to gratitude if you find yourself in a snit?

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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

Memory

 

I recently went through my God Box, which I’d heard is a good thing to do every so often, just to see what had me worried and has since resolved, and which situations I couldn’t even remember. It had been nearly 6 years since I’d done it, so there were notes about the pandemic, my spouse’s cancer and mine, my 1^st husband’s passing, retiring… And, as expected, all had been resolved, one way or another, in my time or not.

I know the God Box, or God Can, or call-it-what-you-will receptacle is merely symbolic, but I am a person who appreciates ritual, a concrete representation of what my psyche is reaching for – clarification, resolution, letting go, whether that’s writing a letter to someone who has passed, writing my worry on a piece of paper, lighting a candle… For me, there is healing, healing and a means of definition, if I put pen to paper or talk it out with someone else, or imagine my concern going up in a puff of smoke. My brain can still be a sketchy neighborhood if I go there alone.

Case in point – one of my spouse’s sponsors attends a meeting I go to regularly. Rightly or wrongly, I tend to temper my shares if I’m in a room with people who know us both – especially Alanon, since most of my “isms” in that department are related to my interactions with hubs. Well, this week I decided to out myself and my likely needless worries, so I approached the guy, only to find out he didn’t even know who I was. “Who’s your husband??” he asked. “Oh.” So, one more time, I’m nowhere near as important as I sometimes think (!) and now he does know who I am. And probably not paying much attention to me. Years ago, a friend surmised that after 3 or 4 minutes of a share, people tend to check out so it doesn't really matter all that much what I have to say. I tend to believe she's right, thinking of a few times I was literally crying my eyes out during a share, only to have someone come up after the meeting and say, "So, how's it going?"  Of course, sometimes I say what I need to hear, with the truth I may not have recognized until the words were spoken. 

In our monthly Old Codgers coffee date, a friend wondered about memory and our tendency, as we get older, to talk about our youth, or with her kids, about their growing up years. Is it because there's so much in there? Lovers and travels and conversations of long ago, people who moved away or passed on, books read...  Some of those memories are poignant, some faded and some sharp and clear as a bell, like the old-timer Norm B welcoming me back to my second meeting, remembering my name. It's not that life isn't interesting today, but "Do you remember the time?..." takes me many places, to many people.

Speaking of, yesterday was the anniversary of my first marriage, in 1973. I tend to post online about it, and about him. I'm friends with his family, he was part of our high school crew, and maybe most importantly, my current husband welcomed him into our family.  Coincidentally, I ran into our best man at the grocery store the day before - definitely a voice from the past.

I had a co-worker who talked about her "starter marriage." I find that term dismissive, but it kind of fits as a description of the immaturity that had us thinking we were grown ups but acting like high school kids. I do remember the excitement, the hope, the belief in "happily ever after" that propelled us to a wedding, back in the day when my mother didn't want us simply living together like couples were starting to do in the 1970's. The weekend dance parties on the green shag carpet only carried us so far as depression struck for me, realizing that I didn't know how to cook (at all) and that my young spouse had no intention of vacuuming. We plugged along for about 5 years as my alcoholism took hold (he was the first one who said, "Why can't you stop with one or two?!"), and both our infidelities tore apart the flimsy vow we'd made.  A lot of water went under the bridge from then onward. I'm so grateful we reconnected in the last few years of his life - he was a better friend than he was a husband. And, I'm forever thankful that, when he knew he was dying, he told me, "Just so you know, I have no hard feelings - for any of it." And he sure could've, but for the healing power in living amends. 

What of your amends have been especially meaningful, whether a direct conversation or the changed behavior variety? Whether or not you use a "god can," what are some situations that had you in a knot but have since resolved? Are there particular rituals or tools that help you release the illusion of control? 

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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