Read, write, think, do

 As November draws to a close, I contemplate what, exactly, is meant by the 11th Step suggestion to "improve our conscious contact" with the higher power of our own understanding (or, non-understanding, as a good friend puts it). Since contact with anything outside my addict brain of "more, more" was pretty much nil in the old days (though I sometimes prayed at night, thinking of it as a sort of insurance policy), the mere fact of even imagining a power greater than myself, or of my drug of choice, was a miracle. But I've often wondered what, exactly, I'm supposed to be doing. The writing steps are clear cut, but the others - becoming entirely willing, making a decision, etc - can seem nebulous.  Concrete thinker that I am, I asked a friend once, well into sobriety, how does one actually work the Steps? She replied that for her, it means to read the Step, do any writing suggested, and then think about how to put the principle (trust, honesty, etc) into action. Read, write, think, do - I can manage that, most days.

As I've written before, I did have the "I'm alive!" pink cloud, for quite a while after getting sober. I just read a piece about a cancer survivor who described the every-day miracle of waking up each day post diagnosis, and how that awe faded as the years have passed. I'd say "same" with recovery - what used to be outright glee at seeing the sun come up (rather than bemoaning a new day) has long settled into a sometimes-generic gratitude. Not to negate gratitude in all its forms, but at times, it seems that the sparkle has worn off.  Maybe it's the season, with the hype around feeling FANTASTIC and buying just the right gifts and cooking the perfect meal. Bah humbug to that. And, it can be good to remind myself that perhaps the sparkle is hiding under a tree in Forest Park or waiting to be found in a book I haven't yet read, or one I revisit. Perhaps the sparkle of yore is more of a warm glow these days. It's there, if I pay attention to what really matters.

We spent time with my dear friend's family on Thanksgiving. At 50 years and counting, she's long been a wise owl in my life, telling me when my first marriage ended that romance may come and go, but it's your friends who will be with you always. How true, despite various imaginings of "happily ever after" in the years since.  I haven't always been a good steward of my friendships, letting connections take a back seat when a new crush came my way. I never wanted to be that type of woman, but how could I be anything else with my erroneous belief that a relationship was the end-all, be-all? It took so long, including finally letting the Universe choose instead of my so-called broken picker, to be in a place of appreciating and honoring all my relationships, always. Another friend once pointed out that yes, our primary relationship is our primary relationship, but that doesn't mean we should neglect those who had our back all along. 

Relationships, whether friendships, family, sponsee/sponsor, or our partner, do seem to go through stages and cycles - sometimes inseparable. sometimes distant and sometimes a bit rocky. Sometimes circumstances result in a letting go - I'm thinking of women I used to train and run with, literally hours every week, and once that focus ended, the friendships faded. There are those too that were connected to a particular meeting where we've drifted apart over time. And there are those deep friendships where conversations take up where they left off, despite time or distance in between. And... "later is now" when it comes to friendships. There are absolutely no guarantees.  Make the amends. Schedule the coffee date. Call the elderly relative. Get on a plane.

I took myself to an in-person meeting at our local Alano Club this week. It didn't feel quite the same as the before-times, with masks required, paying for parking that used to be free, and a sparsely attended group, but it felt SO good to be in this place, and this neighborhood, where I spent literally decades attending meetings as well as coffee dates and meetings-after-the-meeting dinners. Scuffling my way down the street, kicking November's leaves as I walked, I felt light. I only recognized one person at the meeting but felt a surge of joy to be in my old stomping grounds, thinking of all the recovery conversations in that square mile, and perhaps those yet to come. As I've written before, we don't really know the full ramifications of the pandemic, but I know I've gotten comfortable with staying in. Nothing wrong with that - I'm something of a homebody at heart - but/and there is an energy of connection I've sorely missed. I love seeing dear friends on zoom, and, I hadn't realized how much I've missed the randomness of attendees at an in-person meeting. And thank you, dear reader, for coming along for the ride as I straddle this in-between space of safe/not safe, cautious/carefree.

What does it mean to you to practice Step 11? Where do you find the sparkle or glow of recovery these days? Is there a friend you're feeling the urge to connect with? If you are a meeting-goer, are you mostly in-person or online these days? Is that working for you? Is there a dilemma you are facing that could be helped by the "read, write, think, do" formula of a particular Step?

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This could be time to plan a holiday gift for a sponsor or sponsee, or to think about a year end/new year stock-taking. See the Feb 4 entry for a sample of the "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" workbook with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. Available in PDF format for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.