You're right where you're supposed to be...

 A program elder and friend tells me that in reading my blog, she often recognizes herself at my slightly younger age, thinking the equivalent of "She's right where she's supposed to be." It's reassuring to learn that I'm not the only one who grapples with thoughts of "what if" and "why?" helping me to further understand that, yes, life is a process. 

As helpful as it may be to realize I'm not alone, "You're right where you're supposed to be," was SO annoying as a newcomer. When other members told me that what I was feeling at 90 days, 18 months, 2 years and so on was fairly predictable, I was insulted. Like many of us, I mistakenly thought that I was the only one who'd ever felt this way, had this experience, went through what I was going through. Immaturity on parade, right? That feeling of connection, inclusion, it's-not-just-me has been one of the greatest gifts of long-term recovery. "Yeah, I felt that way too" - such simple, yet profound words.

A good friend quotes William Stafford's poem, "The Way It Is" including the line, "Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding." Sometimes that is frightening, like the moving sidewalk is going too fast, but truthfully, would I want to stop time's unfolding? Would I really want to be stuck in 1985, those final dark months of despair? Or what about 1990, in college grinding through term papers? And while the high twinkles of a new attraction are intoxicating, I much prefer the solidity of our eleven-year marriage as well as the deep knowingness and trust of long-term friendships. Now is pretty darned good, as it unfolds.

I suppose what one, as in I, want with the idea of stopping time is to stop my own aging - the old, "If I knew then what I know now" schtick. But really, I wouldn't be 30 or even 40 again (not to mention 16 or 26). Sure, I could run faster, ride my bike longer, stay up later - so what? Life itself continues to teach her lessons, one day at a time, if I stay open.

In his book, No Time Like the Present, Jack Kornfield writes (p. 245) "Look in the mirror. You will see that your body has aged. But, oddly, you will also experience that you don't necessarily feel older. This is because your body exists in time. It starts small, grows up, ages and dies. But the consciousness that is looking at your body is outside of time. It is spirit that takes birth, experiences your life, and will witness your death, maybe even saying at the end, "'Wow! That was an amazing ride!'"

I may question the mechanics of what is called "the observer," the witness of our higher self, but I appreciate Kornfield's validation of what I feel most days (and what my mother repeatedly said, that she didn't feel older on the inside). Suiting up and showing up, without needing to figure it all out, is definitely one of the challenges of "keep coming back" in long-term sobriety. One day at a time is truly all we really have, and it's taken me 36+ years to get even an inkling of that truth.

And speaking of wise elders, I ran into a program acquaintance this week at the market. We must've met at a meeting, but our friendship has consisted primarily of conversations in the grocery store parking lot, which means I haven't seen him for a few years with covid and all. It was good to connect, hearing of his recent celebration of 50 years adherence to the OA program and 30+ years sobriety. We had a mini-meeting, there next to the apple display case, as he shared elements of his daily practice, an example of program in action over time.

I know not everyone who reads this blog is over 50, but hang on kiddos, you're getting there! As they used to say, the secret to becoming an old timer is don't drink and don't die. And as the path gets narrower, what really matters becomes more pronounced - connection, love, health, recovery. (I used to equate the narrower path with a claustrophobic lockstep, but these days see it more as clarity of vision and purpose.)

What of your circumstances today would prompt someone to say, "You're right where you're supposed to be"? Are there times you still (or again) think that you're the only one with your feelings, reactions, hurts and joys? How can you connect with community to help share the load? As this year winds down, what character aspects or thought-burdens do you hope to release as you step across the threshold into 2023? How can you affirm yourself for making it through 2022, one day at a time?

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This could be time 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. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th and T-Mar will have copies at the Year End Round-up in Seaside, if you're there.