We had the sweet opportunity to visit family out of town this past week, including our AA family. The beauty of zoom is that we've stayed closer in touch with our AA folks than past twice yearly visits allowed. While I am very much not grateful for the pandemic, there have been some unforeseen benefits, including several people who showed up at our in-person meeting on Tuesday that I'd never met in person before. I love AA, and I love our connections, near and far.
I engaged in a semi-frenzy of housecleaning before we left, which always makes me think of an acquaintance from my before-times. She was the girlfriend of a good friend, a blackjack dealer in Tahoe who'd regale us with stories of how the dealers and other casino staff stayed high without management catching on. These were the cocaine years, with "alert" being less obvious than an opiate nod. A few years older than me, and much wiser, she told me she always spruced up her home before going on a trip, in order to return to a clean house. Seems sort of obvious now, but not so back then, when we'd sometimes get back from weeks away to milk or yogurt gone bad in the fridge, or a kitchen full of fruit flies from a rotted melon on the counter. I'm not a pristine housekeeper by any means, but I, too, appreciate coming home to a clean kitchen and a made bed. Barbara, wherever you and your darling daughter (who'd now be pushing 40) are, I wish you well.
Speaking of friends, I made a few phone calls recently to people who often cross my mind, then poof, I move on. As I'm reminded again and again and yet again, we just never know whether the "I'll get in touch later" will come to be. Yes, people die unexpectedly, but I'm also thinking of the simpler fact that once I start the drift away from a friendship, it can take on a life of its own and suddenly it's been years since we talked. I can let time get in the way (too early, too late), or my perception of our ideological differences. The faux intimacy of texting also interferes with actually picking up the phone, and for many these days, the protocol is to text first, then call, which can be another barrier. Remember when the phone literally rang off the wall, running to answer, or walking the very long cord away from wherever the parents were sitting? And how about in early sobriety, being advised to never leave the house without a quarter in your pocket for a payphone, just in case a compulsion hit? (I was a latecomer to cell phones, finally giving in when my car wouldn't start and there was nary a phone booth for blocks). Even with all our technological advancements, sometimes communication feels way more complicated than it used to.
And so, I return from a little vacation and begin four weeks of radiation tomorrow, four weeks that will undoubtedly go by in a blink, given the speed which time seems to pass these days. As I feel energized with spring's blue skies (if not here, then away), much like the garden coming to life, I also realize that I'm, once again, in a bit of a holding pattern, tethered to the radiation table Mon - Fri. As I'd mentioned in a recent post, the in-between times can be spiritual, ripe with possibility. So what is my choice to be - piss and moan about having to plan my days around these appointments, or remember gratitude for the process that is meant to reduce my chances of a cancer recurrence? Will I grouse about what I can't do, or sit in the stillness and listen to my heart about what might be next? There are several items on my day planner, but what about what's next internally? A six-month service commitment is soon drawing to a close, I'm feeling in flux with meeting attendance, no seasonal elections work until autumn, and it's been too darned cold and rainy to do much in the garden. Will I experience treatment lethargy? How uncomfortable will the radiation burn be? Questions, questions - future tripping, when what's called for is to simply suit up and show up.
Are there friendships, old or new, that are whispering for your attention? How can you move to reaching out this week vs just thinking about it? Is there anything in your immediate or more distant future that is drawing your attention away from today? How might you come back to the here and now?
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