As we sweltered through an uncharacteristic 112 - 114 degree heat wave here in the Pacific Northwest, I told myself I deserved a second ice cream bar. That means I now deserve the resulting upset tummy! When speaking about the delights of ice cream, a new friend shared that she and her spouse buy the most decadent brand they know, and every few evenings, eat one spoonful each. Oh my god. My first thought was, "You people are so not alcoholics!" That would never work in my world, where moderation is still something of a foreign concept. It's actually best if we just don't keep sweets in the house (one is too many, a thousand is never enough), but it was pushing 80 by 7am (and no, I didn't eat the ice cream for breakfast!). It is tough to stay vigilant when the weather is upside down and I felt myself moving through the stages of terror, bewilderment, frustration and despair.
As one of my personal AA icons shared recently, spiritual fitness is a continuum, and I move up and down the line from centered to wacky, sometimes on any given day. I don't spend much time in the self-deception that could end with alcohol and drug use, but I'm rarely at the far reaches of "walking-on-air" serenity either. I tend to dance along the upper mid-point of "centered-as-long-as-I've-slept-well." Centered as long as I've slept well and am not worried sick over the state of the planet, or concerned for those working (or living) outdoors this week. Staying aware and informed, while detached, is always a tough spot for me - the old, "if you're not angry, you're not paying attention" decree. The good news is that the tools of recovery don't only work on maintaining abstinence. In fact, if I'm reading the Big Book correctly, the purpose of the program is to enable us to "find a power" by which we can live, a power that frames my set of personal morals and ethics. For me, that power is within, in the place of the still, small voice. It is also in you.
In an article in this week's Sunday New York Times about grieving pandemic losses, Emily Esfahani Smith describes the healing aspects of storytelling, of speaking our truths. We know that in AA and Alanon. We know that telling our stories, the "what it was like, what happened, or what it's like now" builds community and helps foster a sense of belonging. When I was going through a rough patch a number of years ago, I whimpered that people were probably tired of hearing my woes. Someone replied, "Keep telling the story until you don't need to," which I did and she was right. The telling, which often includes revising as I come to new insights, is part of the healing process, 1) because it helps me frame my predicament in a larger context and 2) because the process goes against everything I believed before I got sober, as in "Don't air your laundry in public," "Do not ask for help," "Figure it out, kid." Sometimes I say what I need to hear in a meeting, and sometimes I hear it from you.
Today I heard it from a foursome of ten-year olds at a lemonade stand. Initially, I drove past, thinking (in a curmudgeon voice), "I don't need any sugary lemonade!" but circled the block as I realized, (in a kind and loving voice) "It's not about the lemonade." The aforementioned beverage was going for one dollar per cup. I gave them a buck each and their genuine surprise and thank you's made my entire day. While it's been a very long time, I do remember the entrepreneurial excitement of setting up a lemonade stand, or staging a circus in the backyard (one nickel each!) or my one very feeble attempt at selling greeting cards door-to-door. I vow to stop each time I see a kid at a folding table set up on a sidewalk, whether I'm thirsty or not.
The fever broke Monday night, when the temperature dropped 50 degrees in a matter of hours. I have a feeling that my peace of mind will continue to be tested by happenings beyond my individual control. As always, all I have power over is my attitude, and sometimes that seems out of reach. Out of reach on my own, but as close as an online meeting, a phone call or a text. Or, as close as a group of earnest ten-year old's on a corner with a homemade sign.
Thinking of the daily spot check, where are you on the spiritual continuum today? Do you notice when you're off kilter? What works to get you back towards serenity?
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/06/24/opinion/covid-pandemic-grief.html
** July could be a good time for a mid-year check up. See the 11/17/20 blog entry for an excerpt from I'VE BEEN SOBER A LONG TIME - NOW WHAT?, a 78 page workbook on the joys and challenges of long term recovery. Go to the WEB VERSION of this page at www.soberlongtime.com to peruse past entries, and to order the workbook via a link at the top right of the page. Thanks for your support!
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