What's next?

 "Don't die with your music still in you."  Wayne Dyer

I can take the above quote as an affirmation, a challenge or chastisement, hopeful or resigned. Am I sharing my best self with the world, or keeping myself small out of fear?  Have my hopes and dreams fizzled, or am I merely in transition from one way of being to another? What exactly is the "music" inside me, and how has the tune changed over the years?

I will say I've fully embraced retired life. I have a few friends who say they'll never retire as they can't imagine what they'd do with themselves. I don't have that problem, at least not today. A couple of years before retirement, I felt the same - I liked the structure of work, the sense of purpose and accomplishment (and the bi-monthly paycheck). Then, a couple of years before I pulled the plug, I couldn't imagine working another week, let alone years, as I struggled to keep my mojo alive. But, once I'd picked a date to quit, I fell back in love with my job, aware of all the "last times" as I walked through them - last snowstorm to arrange coverage, last talent show, last staff meeting, etc. Farewell!  And then, the pandemic hit, which changed everything about my job. I stuck with my original plan, recognizing that I wasn't leaving the job I loved, but was leaving, nonetheless.

Whenever I've completed a big project, my work-life being one, but also after publishing Shadows and Veins, or when I graduated college (both times) or even recently with my high school reunion, I've wondered, "What's next?" I like having something(s) to look forward to - a trip, a project, a good book. This is a recurring theme. I am an anticipator, an if-I-can-see-around-the-next-corner-all-will-be-well person. Of course, I do know that isn't possible, and as someone once pointed out, how boring it would be to always know what's ahead. And yet, I ponder and wonder and try to figure it out before finally hitting the surrender switch. 

That being said, I am conscious of increasing my ability to simply sit still (hard for an alcoholic of my kind), waiting for whatever is "next" to present itself. I don't need to look or search or try to figure out what the universe has in store. First of all, I don't have a crystal ball, and second, I don't need to force the issue. What is in front of me today, this week? And by sitting still, I don't actually mean holding still! For me it is more a state of mind, a peacefulness that is present when I stop the internal search, the need to define, to know.

This past week, I've been "tour guide" with an out-of-state friend. It's always fun to view home with the eyes of a visitor. Yes, parts of our city are ugly with graffiti and homeless encampments, and parts of it are still/again lovely and lively. We went to the coast, and a hike in the Columbia River Gorge, plus some outdoor music, a concert and lots of good restaurants that I never frequent on my own. So "what's next?" today means eating salad, getting to sleep on time, catching up on laundry as well as meetings. I've generally heeded the old saying that going a week without a meeting makes one weak, but sometimes the joys of a sober life intercede. I've also heard, "Don't let the life AA gave you get in the way of your AA life." Point taken, and I never get very far away. You are my people. I miss you and the wisdom I routinely hear if I'm out in the woods for too long (ha ha - in 36+ years I've rarely gone more than a week without a meeting, save the one time I was out of the country with a non-program friend). I am a meeting goer - initially out of desperation and these days from gratitude.

And I write that mainly to remind myself. I'm a meeting go-er and noticed the very faint whisper, (not to be confused with the wise still, small voice) saying, "You've done just fine without meetings. You could probably skip this week too." Sure, I probably wouldn't get drunk tomorrow were I to forego my home groups, but I would've missed a great lead last night, and would miss catching up with friends. I'd never presume to think I know all there is to know about recovery or spiritual growth just because I've been sober a long time. I'd never tell myself to stop reading books because I've already read 1,000, any more than I would've declared myself exempt from continuing education in my field. As I've written, thinking I know all I need to know is a big, waving red flag. As we read, "alcohol is a subtle foe."

Just for today I can relax into what is instead of what might be. I can pay attention when another long timer shares his experience on Step 10. I can go for an early morning walk, and can decide whether or not to keep watering the garden or let end-of-summer take over. Just for today I can appreciate the many gifts of recovery that have come my way. Sometimes those gifts sting - I don't necessarily agree that my worst day sober is better than my best day drinking, and I wouldn't trade this way of life for anything. I can let the days unfold as they may while still keeping an eye on myself, whether I call that Step 10 or simply awareness.

What does "Don't die with your music still in you," bring to mind? Can you hear the song, even if faintly? How might you turn up the volume on your heart's true desires? What are ways the "subtle foe" sneaks up on you, and what do you do when you notice it?

* *  *

See the Feb 4 post for a sample of the 78-page workbook, "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" available as hard copy (mailed) or PDF (emailed - for those outside the U.S or those who prefer the computer, though do note it is not a writeable PDF.). Portland Area Intergroup also has a supply available at 825 NE 20th Ave, suite 200.  Go to the WEB VERSION of this page, if you don't see the purchase link in the upper right corner. Contact me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with any questions.