I did some traveling down Memory Lane this weekend at a friend's 60th birthday celebration. She's long since moved out of town, but what a delight to see her, and the other two members of our early recovery crew. Meetings and potlucks and conferences galore! We were in each other's weddings, and attended the memorial for one of our's husband, gone far too soon. For several years, after I'd acquired a video recording camera back in the pre-cell phone & tablet dark ages, we recorded "Dreams & Goals," a sometimes rambling, giggle-filled commentary on what we thought life would be like in the coming years. Staying sober topped the list, along with getting married (though most of us were single), maybe having kids and/or a career, writing a book - basically we had no idea, which didn't stop us from being shy and silly in front of the camera. A couple of years ago, my husband inadvertently donated this old VCR tape to Goodwill. When I started to cry, said husband (a definite keeper) made his way to the distribution center and miraculously retrieved it. I need to watch it again and see what of those early intentions came to be.

Time. Time passing; time creeping or speeding by, depending on whether I'm looking forward to something or not, or simply not paying much attention. I heard several good messages in my weekend meetings regarding surrender, which somehow feels related to the idea of time passing, which it will – whether I’m ready or not. It feels like just yesterday that my friends and I were enjoying slumber parties and trips to the coast, but it’s been more like 30 years – 30 years full of life-on-life’s terms, jobs and illnesses, break ups and make ups, some of us going to meetings, some not, and the ability to pick up the conversation as if we’d seen each other last week. Time passes. People and situations change, as do I, thank goodness. I still carry around the character defaults that plagued me when I first got into recovery, but with time and Step work, their hold is less a death grip than a gentle reminder that I am human. And, I hold dear to my heart the friendships that guided me through those early years of exploration: Who am I? What is it I like to do? What are my values?

On another note, I had a good “parking lot conversation” with a fellow Alanon member yesterday morning. She’s new(ish) to recovery and has just had the light bulb moment of awareness that her parent’s illness was not her fault. Talk about a journey! It took decades for the true understanding of that fact to move from my head to my heart. I could tell you that I knew it, but until I felt it in my gut, with a sense of true compassion for the little girl who thought her daddy would be ok if she were “enough” as well as for my alcoholic father, who carried his own internal demons, I was trapped. The awareness didn’t just happen – I’d done therapy and multiple inventories around my childhood. But what I know is that I can only prepare myself for the change we ask for in Step 7 – the actual shift isn’t something I can conjure up just because I want it. For me, it was a dramatic moment, but sometimes the hoped for change comes subtly and I realize one day that, “Oh, I don’t do that anymore.” Or “Hmmm – did I actually just pause?”

Surrendering to the moment – at work, at home, in my head – is part of that preparation for the magic of the Steps to take hold. Surrendering to the busyness of the holiday season, surrendering to changes in friendships over time, surrendering the circumstances of others’ lives, surrendering my own recovery trajectory. I do the “work” (showing up, self-care, practicing the principles), period. Just because I meditate extra hard, or am a good sponsor, or blah, blah, blah, doesn’t mean that I’m rewarded with joy and positivity. Life happens. Surrender means that I give up the illusion of control, and through that, gain the strength and good humor to walk through whatever shows up on any given day. Sometimes the One Day at a Time concept seems too simple to wrap my complicated mind around. Other days, I say, yes - just for today.

This time of year I have several rituals to mark the season: I go through my new wall calendar and write in birthdays and important dates, we decorate a tree with our daughter, and at Solstice, I share with a group of women what I want to release from the old year and bring in to the new. What, if any, seasonal rituals do you participate in, either solo or as a group?