I'm thinking, this week and always, about the spiritual journey, the journey back to ourselves. I hear so many, especially those newer to recovery, talk about their fears of being themselves, not exactly sure what that means. We talk about peeling away the layers of the onion or "recovery equals discovery", both pointing to the uncovering of our true nature. I've been listening to Sarah Blondin on the Insight Timer app, and she reminds me that for all the searching I've done, the answers I seek are in my own heart. The Alternative 12 Step book talks about our abiding strength, our inner wisdom. Even in my younger and not-sober years, that wisdom, more of a knowing than a particular voice, was a solid understanding of what was needed in seemingly conflicted situations. Despite my efforts over the years to outrun that voice, I always know what I need to do. I remember many a conversation and meeting topic about "How do I know god's will??" with every convoluted interpretation imaginable (which were really just excuses to do what I wanted to do). What I discovered is that if I have to think too hard about it, I'm probably not aligned with my highest good. When I am on a path that is true and good and right for me, doors, both metaphorical and actual, open.

A friend recently shared some sorrow around family and letting go, which made me think of my ongoing topic of transitions. Life is a series of losses, anticipated and otherwise. There were all the losses associated with addiction - loss of trust, loss of self-respect, loss of a connection to anything/anyone outside the me-me-me that needed to protect my compulsions. And the losses of this human life - loved ones dying, relationships ending, jobs either going away or not as expected, pets dying, friendships changing, our own aging... Transition is about loss, even if the changes are planned and positive. I learned long ago that it is important to acknowledge the shifts, with a smudge, a candle, or some other sort of ceremony in order to say goodbye. I can't fully say "hello" to the next thing if I haven't let go of the old. Which isn't to say that I forget what has gone before, but as it says in Courage to Change, I've learned to look at the past without staring.

I've found myself engaging in an internal debate about the higher power(s) concept, coming to the conclusion, once again, that I don't need to define the forces in this life that are greater than me. Nature, quiet contemplation, journaling, conversation with a trusted other, certain readings -  all serve as conduits to that quiet place inside that allows my innate wisdom to surface. Innate wisdom that was clouded by distraction, chatter, substances, and that can still be hard to hear when I barrel through my days on self-will. I've been utilizing guided meditations for several months now, but that is just part of the self-care practice. I can't just listen to a 5 or 10  minute instruction, mind wandering, then jump up for a cup of coffee. I'm discovering that following up with a few minutes of personal reflection is what I need to truly connect with center, whether that is focusing on Steps 3 & 7, setting my intention for the day, or asking that innate wisdom/abiding strength to activate in keeping me mindful. I was so thrilled when I noticed the Step 7 description in the 12x12 chapter on Step 12, suggesting that defects be removed such as they could be under the conditions of the day I ask. What that says to me is that, if I'm serious in my commitment to change, I will notice the particular characteristic I want to amend, and can then decide what to do next - same old thing, or something new. And, I need to renew that commitment every day. I can't just say, "I want to be less selfish" on a Tuesday and move on. Saying to myself, "I strive to be more helpful /generous/ thoughtful" (fill in the blank) every day keeps me in the mindset of practicing the principles.

I participated in a small outdoor and distanced meeting earlier in the week at a local park. It was lovely to sit in circle and share, made all the more special as it was one of the attendee's first ever in-person meeting (huge kudos to those who are getting sober with only the online venues). I will go again, and will look at, perhaps, organizing a meeting of my own during these brief, dry months here in Portland. I don't mind the online meetings, and making eye contact with a real person intensified the message of hope and connection.

Sitting in that small circle, under the shady trees, made me think of the various out-of-the-ordinary meetings I've either been in, or initiated, over the years - on the back steps of a church when the key person didn't show up, at midnight on New Year's Eve as the dance party wound down, in a van on the way to my friend's family home in Montana, on our couch when my husband wasn't well enough to go out, on the beach as a bonfire kept those in the circle warm, an impromptu pause while hiking in an old-growth forest...  Some of the most meaningful meetings I've ever been to were those small moments of creating space for acknowledging the gift of life, the gift of recovery.

In these challenging times of distancing and staying (mostly) home, I can think of all the formal and informal ways I work a recovery program. Meetings, yes, but also hikes with friends, walks with my sponsor, quiet time with my journal, this blog, greeting the day with gratitude for all that is, rather than focusing on all that isn't.

How do you practice your program these days? How do you discern your inner wisdom and tap in to your abiding strength?  Be safe, friends.

NOTE: “I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information.