I'm thinking about the spiritual path, and all the twists and turns that has taken over the years. I've described myself, half in jest, as a monotheistic pagan; probably more of a pantheist, if I understand that correctly (the belief that God/gods is identical with the whole natural world - sort of like what AA says - God "is either everything, or God is nothing. What is your choice to be?") In any event, it is hard for me not to think about Higher Power on these glorious spring days, with technicolor gardens and hundreds of shades of green here in the Pacific Northwest.

Years ago, I gathered with a group twice a month to explore our spirituality as newly sober women. Some weeks we chanted, sometimes we meditated, prayed to Mother Mary, or called on the goddesses. At one point, I said, "We're praying to all these different entities - which one is right?" In unison, my friends cried out, "They all are!" They all are.

What I've come to understand, for myself and myself only, is that there are many faces of god. When I first started exploring the notion of a personal relationship, I wanted answers - God in a box. And then I heard someone say, "If I could understand the Higher Power, I wouldn't need it." Yes. My God is way bigger than my little mind. I sometimes feel an expansive glimpse of transcendence, but most days I plod along on trust, and the memory of all the positive things that have happened since I made the decision to turn my will and life over.

Like many of us, when I first made the move from crystal meth as a Power Greater than myself to a more spiritual concept, I was excited. One day, I came home from my daily noon meeting and hit my knees in tears. "Is this all I had to do, God? Stop sticking a needle in my arm and pray a couple of times a day, and life is this good?" I couldn't quite believe the leap from the despair of my final years of addiction to the simple gifts of early recovery - feeling good physically, looking people in the eye when I talked with them, a sense of hope.

And then, one day at a time, sobriety became more of a habit than a daily adventure - the highs weren't quite as high. I'd entered the workforce, started going to school, and the daily grind was simply the daily grind. The pink cloud of newness had been replaced with "now what?" I asked a member of my home group about this shift. Was it normal? Would I be OK? This wise elder told me her experience. She said that for her, at first, her relationship with Higher Power was like falling in love, with all the joys and jitters of infatuation. Over time, that relationship settled in to a comfortable knowing, like happens with a long term partner. The high twinkles cannot be sustained, but the solid comfort goes on for years, with attention and nurturing, which for me, means the prayer and meditation suggested in Step 11.

And so, that's where I am today, in the solid comfort of trust. Life on life's terms has thrown a few curve balls recently, but I'm better able to ride the wave and access my serene center more easily. That doesn't mean that I don't freak out over this situation or that. An accumulation of stressors brought me to tears in my Tuesday morning meeting. Part of me felt scared, and small, worried about not doing it right (whatever that "it" might be), and I recognized myself in the leader's share about trying to control outcomes. When I find myself wanting to control what's next, especially what's next for someone else, I can nearly always trace it back to fear of the unknown. And, with a capital "A," the gift of long term recovery is that I was able to trace that emotion to the core belief almost automatically. No inventory required, no seven phone calls to four different people, no drama. There are so many benefits to long term recovery, and one of the greatest is that I'm rarely held hostage by my own feelings anymore.

So, life goes on. I gathered with a small group of women, all with over 20 years recovery, last evening, sharing about honesty, starting with gut-level honesty with ourselves. If I'm tuned in to the still, small voice within, I have at least a fighting chance of being able to tell you how I feel. Not always immediately, but I get there.

How has the inventory process, and working the Steps over time, brought you to a place of emotional honesty? How do you nurture your relationship with Higher Power, however you do or don't define that?