The recent week-plus air quality alert, and preceding wind storm in Portland had me in a place of appreciating my usual freedoms, and how much I take for granted in my daily life - electricity, clean air to breathe, the ability to go outside. Driving home from an abbreviated trip to Central Oregon, barely able to see more than a couple of car lengths ahead, I thought about all those who were being displaced from their homes, and who may or may not have homes to return to.

I am very fortunate in that I did not need to heed Level I (prepare), II (be ready) or III (go!) evacuation orders, but that hasn't stopped me from reading all the "how to get ready" instructions popping up on the internet. While working, I attended a couple of classes on Emergency Preparedness, usually related to earthquakes, or as we say here in the NW, "The Big One" that is due. We have a good stash of provisions - a battery charged radio, a solar phone charger, a can opener, for example, but I don't yet have a "leave now" bag. 

Going over a list of what to take, depending on whether you have 15, 30 or 60 minutes to prepare, I made a mental checklist. Most of what is on the 15 and 30 minute list are paperwork items: checkbook, cash, passport, insurance documents and the like. Important, yes, but I found myself in tears thinking of what really matters. Most of what is in our home is replaceable, or, as in photographs and music, already "in the cloud." But what of the irreplaceable? What about the little container of Mom's ashes, or my 1st husband's? What about the framed card from my step-daughter where she describes me as the "best step-mom ever" or our wedding album? What about my journal from 1986 when I first got sober, or all my marathon medals? Just stuff, yes, but stuff imbued with the essence of family history and my own. I know that it is the intangibles that really matter - friendships and integrity, love and service, and it has been helpful to jot down what of the things in our home would be important to grab. I'm told that having a list helps, so there is less confusion in the event of a "go now" situation.

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Andy Capp, a cartoon character, is quoted in one of my daily readers:  "I'm doing more and more for the last time and less and less for the first time."   Yes. I'm still doing much of what I've always done, though joined a walking group instead of running, but I do have my eye on how my priorities are shifting. I know that not everyone who reads this blog is an elder - I just helped celebrate the 27th anniversary of a friend who came in when she was 20, so is now just 47 - but many of you are in the "don't drink and don't die" club of "how to become an old-timer," which comes with a new, or deepening sense of time and of importance. There is less acquiring and more releasing, less striving and more relaxing into what is. I recently read on the Next Avenue website (www.nextavenue.org) that "Around midlife we experience what's known as a 'shift in time perspective,' which means we begin to think about the time we have between this moment and the end of life. We start to realize that life is finite and that opportunities for a do-over are less likely"  (Suzanne Degges-White, College of Education, Northern Illinois University). I'm not too concerned with do-overs - fortunately with the principles of our programs, I don't generally get too far down the "oh crap..." pathway. But I do realize that this life is finite. Will I ever get to India, or back to the UK? Will I write another novel, or learn Spanish? Hard to say. I do know that if I truly want something (vs a vague wish), it will come to me because I will put in the effort. Where do I want to spend my effort today?

And welcome autumn! I have several friends who are summer people, happiest when the sun is at its height, but I am completely and thoroughly a fall. I love the cool mornings and longer nights; the switch from tank tops to long sleeves and from sandals to shoes and socks. I love the fading garden and last tomatoes of the season, the move from salads to soups and the sense of a new beginning (most likely a leftover from past school days). And I especially love falling asleep to the sound of rain on the roof, the lullaby of my childhood (in my upstairs bedroom with our home's lack of insulation!) I celebrate the Equinox, and this year marvel at how very different the world is from spring when we'd just begun to shut down due to the pandemic. I don't think I'm alone in that I had absolutely no idea what was ahead, and that six months later we'd be talking about how to safely get through the end of the year. One day at a time. One day at a time.

If you were to make a list of what really and truly matters, what would it say? If you had an hour to leave your home, what would you hope to take? When you think about your remaining time on the planet (knowing that none of us has a crystal ball), what it is you would like to do, either again or for the first time? 

Thank you to those who are continuing to order my workbook.  Please contact me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with any questions or input, and feel free to pass it on if you have friends who might appreciate the process.

“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.