I had my performance eval at work last week, with  my supervisor noting how my goals have shifted from last year's grumbling “try to stay motivated” to some specifics I want to get done in this final year at work. I’m back in love with my job, appreciating why I do what I do, while making mental note of all that I won’t be doing in the future (staff conflict – no thank you). This slight shift in perspective, as in, “this is the last July I’ll be working,” “this may be the last person I hire,” helps me take a step back and appreciate rather than criticize.

Shifts in perception – that’s what  Alanon gives me. Initially the shift had to do with my boyfriend’s drug use, learning that I didn’t cause it, can’t control it, and can’t cure it. Later, the shift was related to the family disease – looking at the places where I erroneously blamed my dad for decisions I was making today; coming to fully understand that my dear parents did the best they could and that dad’s alcoholism and depression were not my fault – that 10 inch drop from the head to the heart. These days, the shift in perception has to do with the illusion of control, as in “I am not the boss of you.” The shift is also related to an increased ability to see my insanities, not always immediately, but I’m usually able to recognize my ism’s as just that, and not truth.

A friend has just flown home from the UK, which made me think of my first visit to the vast Heathrow airport in 1978, only my second airplane flight ever. I'm now grateful that I didn't wake the stranger next to me in the middle of the night to show him Greenland through the window, realizing when the sun came up that it was the wing of the plane. Perspective.  I remembered being told about a classmate who’d passed through Heathrow with her family, on their way to the old country several years earlier. She’d  never traveled, and was freaked out by the melting pot of International Arrivals – Sikhs in turbans, Muslim women in the chador, Africans in their colorful garb. At the time, before travel was on my horizon, I was perplexed by her reaction, since I couldn't wait to see the world and its inhabitants. Different perspectives, different expectations. 

Steps 4-9 used to scare me, as if the inventory was a Ouija board, full of mystery.  Of course, the reality is that it was my story I was writing, my story as I saw it at the time, a perspective that has definitely shifted over the years. For a long time, my history sat on my shoulder, whispering that I would be found out as an impostor – who did I think I was, anyway? Time, and working the Steps helped put the past where it belonged.

Death has shifted my perspective: Mom, Doug, Jer, Janet, Jayna, Teracita, Walt, Hassan, Ronnie – all the recent reminders that this life doesn't last forever, and that we really don't know what's around the corner. Do I think about that every day? No. Usually I simply slog through the week, doing what's in front of me, but when I take a few moments to sit in the silence, I have a deep appreciation for life, and for the connections I’ve made over the years. I can focus on the loss, or I can focus on the love. Perspective.

I’m grateful that, for the most part, I inherited my mother’s optimism. I work in a prison. Minimum security, with skylights and beautiful gardens, but essentially a cage. Some days I focus on the absurdity of razor wire atop the chain link fence, keeping men confined for set periods of time, while other days I marvel at the lovely flowers (this week I saw both a hummingbird and a bunny) and barely notice the fence. Perspective, which, for me, is related to the state of my spiritual condition as well as how much sleep I’ve had, and if I’m too hungry (those pesky HALTS again). It can also be a matter of choice. Where do I focus my attention, and if that attention is in a ditch, or on the razor wire, can I shift my view?

Where does my perspective need to shift today? Time often feels like a higher power. A shift would mean relaxing into the now instead of the next week. A shift would mean truly internalizing “one day at a time” and “easy does it.” A shift would mean going with the flow while honoring my inner planner. What about you? Are there places where a shift in perspective would increase your serenity?

---