Step Two

 In The Seekers Guide, Elizabeth Lesser writes "The secret in life is enjoying the passage of time... Experiment with letting go into the mystery... You don't really know where it's all going anyway, so why not relax and experience the ride!"

Why not, indeed. Rather than the internal effort to step on the brakes, I can be conscious of the eternal now. I tried doing that on my long walk over the weekend, paying attention to every footfall, each contraction of my already tight quadriceps. I am a planner, a list maker, a ticket-buyer. Planning for my spring garden as I walk is fine in and of itself, but not if it keeps me from noticing the blooming crocus and hellebore along my route. 

I get so lost in my mind, with this story or that, this consideration or that forecast, from the simplest of household tasks to grand schemes for the future. Again, nothing wrong with being organized, and... where are my feet? Are my butt and my brain in the same place? 

In thinking about Step Two, for February just beginning, I am reminded that I am neither the star of the show, or the director. I think back to my online communication several years ago with the daughter of the meth cook I was with when I hit bottom. Meeting that man was a huge turning point in my life - huge, and his daughter didn't remember me. With some detail-prompting, she did recall my house and my place in the triangle between me, him and another woman, but not in the neon lights her dad's presence was in my life. Something similar happened at our 50th grade school reunion when a woman looked at my name badge and said, "Hmm. I don't think I remember you." Seriously? There were only a hundred of us, and I certainly felt visible with my cutting up in class, the thwacked-on-my-head-with-a-book-by-the-math-teacher incident, getting suspended for putting glue on the toilet seats - and you don't remember me?! 

Again, I am only the star of my own show, and sometimes even there I've played second or third fiddle to romantic partners or other, bigger personalities. Humbling.

The gist of Step Two, for me, is getting out of my own way and acknowledging that I don't have all the answers - especially when it comes to the future. I know how not to drink one day at a time, but I have yet to discover a fully functioning crystal ball. I did figure out early on, pre-recovery, that what goes around comes around, but have learned since that this is rarely in direct correlation to my ideas of cause and effect. What if I was better able to relax into the mystery? What if I truly enjoyed the passing of time rather than complaining about how fast it goes?

What does it mean to be returned to sanity? First of all, I have to acknowledge the insanity of trying to control the uncontrollable, of forgetting my powerlessness over just about everything, including my first thought (but not my second). I have to remember that time passes, with or without my permission. When I meditate, am I sitting in stillness, or thinking about the grocery list? When watching my favorite game show on TV, am I paying attention, or scrolling on social media? In an online meeting, am I truly listening with my ears and my heart? 

Recovery is a process, a process that doesn't end with physical sobriety. I'll keep coming back.

When you notice that your name is in lights on the imaginary marquee of everyone else's life story as well as your own, can you see the humor and gently bring yourself back to right-size? How do you keep your butt and your brain in the same place? How do you stay in today?

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See my post from 2/4 for information on the Now What? workbook, now available for $14.95 as a PDF I send you via email, or $19.95 for a spiral bound copy I mail to you.