An out-of-town acquaintance got me to an in person meeting I've never been to before where I only recognized one other person. I like that in a group as I can get complacent with the same faces and stories. Hearing the message from fresh perspectives, even though it is much the same as in other places, helps me keep my program fresh, which is the ultimate goal at this stage of recovery. The ultimate goal along with staying clean and sober, obviously (*my favorite sentence in the Big Book, p .45)
The message I heard, from people newer than myself, was related to the importance of self-care as well as sticking close to program in times of change, whether positive or not so positive. Such good reminders and also a welcome measuring stick as to how far I have come from those early days of questioning every single move. So much of recovery has been about healing from the inside out, whichever convoluted avenues that seemed to take. I was certainly adept at running away from or caffeinating or ignoring character aspects that got in my way or making it your fault. What a gift to have walked through those minefields, hand-in-hand, bringing up the rear or leading the way with my fellow travelers on the journey.
We had some work done here at home on the carpet, which involved moving furniture and stuff off shelves. The guy used what seemed to be magic sliders - just get them under the corners and even the heaviest cabinets move easily. Argh! All the years I spent tugging and pulling and pushing with my entire body to rearrange my bedroom as a kid, or living rooms, etc etc etc - who knew there was a tool! You can see where this is going (obviously). The right tools for the job, whether painting the house, moving furniture, or doing inventory makes all the difference. I sometimes think my recovery toolbox is full, but then I hear someone talk about writing a letter to their fear, or mention a book I haven't read, and I add to my kit. The God Box is one such tool (or call it a Surrender Box if the God word doesn't work for you). I still write little notes for the box, then do my best to stop thinking about whatever it is that has me tied in knots. I now date my scraps of paper - an additional piece of the process is to go back every few years and read the notes, looking at how much has been resolved, with little "work" on my part. Another tool I use sporadically is a Gratitude Journal, writing things I'm grateful for in the moment as well as setting intention for positivity going forward.
The things I do to enhance, or more accurately, rein in my emotional state are different now than at the beginning when all I could muster was "Don't drink and go to meetings." I'd tell myself if I really, really wanted to drink, I'd wait until tomorrow, and tomorrow never got here because it is always today! Once, when I was super stressed about something I can't even remember, a fellow gave me the mantra, "I can choose peace instead of this." I still use that when obsession strikes. I recently heard, "Move a muscle, change your mood," another good reminder that taking a walk nearly always clears my mind.
I'm ghostwriting a friend's AA story for submission to the 5th Edition of the Big Book. It's quite a back-and-forth process, and no guarantees, but has given me a deeper relationship with someone I would've called an acquaintance as I listen to the nuances of how recovery has worked in his life. I think our stories are why AA/Alanon works. When I'm locked in my own version of hell, thinking I'm the only one, I'll never get better. When I experience the catharsis of telling you what it was like, what happened and what it's like now, I gain a sense of belonging - especially when I hear you do the same. Community happens when we show up for each other, which so often simply means listening. A friend, Craig, who died many years ago now from cancer, talked about the sacred campfire, the circle we sat in once a week to reflect and witness our individual paths on the hero's journey. Sharing my pain helps relieve the sting. Sharing my joy intensifies it. Sharing the mundane reminds me that I am one among many.
This week, the Cabal, our threesome that has been meeting and talking and sitting in meditation for a decade now, met in a park, safely distanced, enjoying side-shoulder "hugs." I appreciated the sounds of summer as we sat in silence - the squeals of small children, men striking ball with mallet, the crunch of runners flying by on the gravel path. When we shared, it tended towards the journey from striving to be-ing, identifying the internalized belief that if I try hard enough, I'll lose five pounds, gain serenity, overcome my defects, work a better program, ad infinitum. What if it's true that right here, right now, everything is OK? Not perfect, and maybe some things need changing, but ok in the moment. What might happen were I to simply allow or pay attention? What could occur if I was more mindful in my choices, not because I "should" but because it feels right? Maybe not much differently than what happens now, but the energy would be different - open palm vs clenched fist. Self-acceptance instead of the internal, eternal critic.
I may have shared this from poet John O'Donohue before, but it is worth repeating as summer begins to give way to fall - I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding. How might you flow like a river today? What are the tools you use, old or new, that help you access your inner wisdom? Are there places or situations where you can release the try and the should, moving into peace?
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Fall is a great time to start a small group discussion with the Now What? workbook. See the Feb 4 post for a sample, or contact me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com for more info. (Order off the web version of this page, or, available at Portland Area Intergroup)
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