I've been in recent meetings chaired by people I've known for decades - one a regular meeting go-er, the other, not so much. What struck me is the variety of how we stay sober. Some people "put the plug in the jug". They stop lying, cheating and stealing, do the Steps once or twice, and have an improved life for a very long time while seeming to just scratch the surface. Then there are others who go deep, making regular practice of the Steps, looking beyond their superficial defects of character to underlying causes and conditions; people who exemplify the principles of the program, whether attending meetings for the long haul or not. Those are the people I listen to most intently as beacons of how to navigate life. I don't care much about the stuff you've gained - houses, cars, spouse. I want to hear about how you answer the 3am demons, what you do when you feel adrift, how you maintain connection to your spiritual source(s). I'll never forget the older guy in an out-of-town meeting who had a great share, sounding like a guru, and then not thirty minutes later, I observed him being incredibly rude to a woman in the grocery store. Surface recovery, or the real deal? As we're told, it's not enough to talk the talk. And, as long as we don't pick up, we're doing something right.

I like to think I'm in the deep end, but will acknowledge that it depends on the season. Sometimes my fields are fallow as I rest, ever so gently, on my laurels. Other times I'm up to my eyeballs in revelation and excavation, prompted by a life event, or perhaps something I've read or heard in a meeting. Sometimes my "searching and fearless" is triggered by a walk in the woods, when I'm able to breathe into nature's stillness. Sometimes the going deeper is accompanied by "This again?" as I circle back on a characteristic or relationship. Always, always, my seeking is related to looking at what comes between me and serenity, whether my own "instincts gone awry" or momentarily forgetting my powerlessness over people, places and things. This never-ending program offers the gift of growth through the years, if I'm willing to do the work, both in and out of the rooms.

There was a time when the never-ending piece scared me. In my first year of sobriety, Bruce, an old-timer, leaned down on one elbow as he surveyed our meeting room, snarling, "Don't let this 'one day at a time' crap fool you - we're talking about the rest of your God damned lives." The rest of  my life. The rest of my god damn life. At 31, my perspective was limited. I'd see the old guys (and it was mostly guys) in their regular seats and think, "You poor old suckers - don't you have anything better to do?" And now I'm one of them, reveling in the understanding that I have lots of better things to do because I'm in my appointed spot each week. And I can only hope to be doing this for the rest of my g.d. life.

One of the pursuits I picked up in earlier recovery was distance running. I'm slow, but point me in one direction and I can go a long way. Migrating from running to walking has been tougher emotionally than I'd anticipated as I relive past accomplishments, with a bit of longing for the satisfaction of a 20 mile trail run. But I've realized much of what I enjoyed about running is the same when I walk - being outdoors, actually living the seasons; the feeling of accomplishment when done for the day, the sense of community whether I'm at the back of the pack, or somewhere in the middle (Bonuses: I can eat before I head out, and am more inclined to stop for a photo or to pet a neighborhood cat. Maybe this is a good thing - that "Slow down, Jeanine" I've heard for so long. Time will tell...) 

I can appreciate the passing of time, and enjoy my memories, while embracing the now, which means I've found my new sport - distance walking! I'm getting ready for a virtual half-marathon (13.1 miles) and may even tackle the full 26.2 in the coming year. While I think of myself as a solitary runner/walker, I'm realizing just how much I enjoy the camaraderie of putting in the miles with my peers. Spending anywhere from one to four hours with a person over the weeks creates a bond as we talk about aches and pains, recipes, relationships, family, life in general. And while that bond is often event-specific, it is real nonetheless. Kind of like our meeting relationships. I may never see you outside the home group, but our connection is genuine. Wish me luck as I continue to let go of one identity while embracing another.

And here we are in December; December 2020 no less. I'll be gathering (virtually) with my Step Group this weekend to talk about how we applied Step 11 during November. It can be a delicate balancing act between making plans and letting go of expectations, surrender and action. My fledgling meditation practice has faltered this month, victim of an abbreviated morning routine. But, I've long said my gut is my barometer, my internal Step 10, 11 and 12. This thing does "become a working part of the mind," just like Bill wrote all those years ago.

How do the maintenance Steps manifest in your life? Thinking of this challenging time we're experiencing, would you say you are in the deep end, or treading water? How do you balance doing and being, surrender and letting go? What, or who is it you need to release today? 

 ** Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory.  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

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, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time).