My online Alanon meeting this week focused on grief, with a reading from Opening Our Hearts, Transforming Our Losses, with a sub-topic of grieving and discomfort in this time of Covid. How I could relate! I have weeks where I am at relative peace with the stay home/stay safe way of life, and then weeks where I'm chafing at the perceived restrictions and just want to get on an airplane or hear music in the park with friends. I know - luxury problems, which can be part of my angst, and was a barrier to recovery when I first started Alanon. "It wasn't all that bad" was true, but hindered me from being able to see how I was impacted by the family disease of alcoholism. I can do the same with Covid. I really am grateful for my situation, and these are challenging times. Add to the fears and annoyances around the virus is the fact that I live in Portland, Oregon, site of a Federal siege, or rampant lawlessness, depending on who is speaking. I'm doing my best to stay Switzerland, though for the record, most parts of the city are experiencing life as usual, with the mayhem confined to a small area, and after dark. May our leaders and protestors find common ground so that we can move on, and get back to the original intent of the marches.

I am a spiritual seeker, from the traditional to esoteric. I've written about my craving to know, to understand. But spirituality is a feeling, not a thing to be dissected. In Richard Rohr's book, Breathing Under Water, he notes that "God [insert your word of choice: Spirit, Inner Wisdom, etc] comes disguised as your life." Disguised as joy, or deep sadness, boredom, deceit, honor, excitement - the whole lot of it. The Big Book tells us that either everything is sacred, or nothing is, so what is my choice to be? Can I see the spiritual in young people throwing bottles and fireworks, or the Feds dispensing tear gas?  Do I see the sacred in the filthy encampments along a nearby bike route, or in the neighbor's 2AM parties on the lawn? Some connections are harder for me to make than others, but I desire to move to a place of acceptance. Not approval, but remembering that what is, is. From that place, I can better determine if there is something for me to do, whether that is concrete action, making time for conversation, silent meditation, or some of each. 

And, I benefit when I can accept myself as being right where I'm supposed to be. I know that I am in a fallow time, not even two months into retirement. Just like people told me, I can feel the stirrings of "should's," as in I should be doing more (whatever that is), I should be identifying my passion and diving in (though to what, I don't know).  What I should be doing is keeping my commitment, based on the advice of others, to sit still for the first 6-12 months lest I simply continue the over-scheduling that fueled my desire to stop working in the first place.

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On Monday, my friend and I were finally able to find an idyllic spot to scatter some of my first husband's ashes - a lovely beach on the Sandy River, where someone was fishing (a favorite past time of his). As we walked towards the river's edge, a doe and two fawns stepped out of the woods and swam to a sand bar. The beauty and simplicity of their movements felt like a sign, like this was the right place and time. There may be further scatterings, at other rivers, but this small offering brought both tears and a sense of peace.

As I ran this morning, I passed a house that reminded me of a long ago friend, Mark, a fellow alumni from treatment, though a year or two ahead. We re-met at the acupuncture clinic, where he was being treated for AIDS, as one of the first long-term survivors (in the years before the cocktail). He was dying when I met him, seeking both Western and Eastern medicine for symptoms. Seeing him several times a week, we'd choose adjoining chairs in order to chat, and once went to a movie for what he called, "celluloid therapy." At the time, I cautioned myself not to get too close, or involved, because it would hurt when he died.

This was about the time I'd started seeing the man I'd be with for the next 9 years, though initially questioned the attraction. Mark reminded me that life is short, and that anytime I had the chance to love, I should take it, whether that love was romantic, platonic, or the kind of love that includes strangers, ideals and the natural world.

I think of his advice from time to time, like when my husband and I first got together and I wasn't sure if I should stay or go. I thought about it when some wondered at my connection to my first husband, forty years after our divorce. I thought about it while working in prison, greeting clients with respect and caring, no matter their crime. I think about it when I get the nudge to call or text someone, whether my mom's elderly cousin or someone from a meeting I haven't seen in a while. If part of love is kindness, there is rarely a reason to turn away.

As the calendar prepares to turn to August, how are you doing with the current state of affairs, whether your town is open or closed, healthy or not? If spirit comes disguised as your life, what would that story say today? What might help you re-center if you've forgotten to love?

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.