Spiritual fitness

I am so very grateful we don't graduate from our recovery practice. Sure, some people move on or move away from meetings, some leave for a bit and come back, or not, and the principles of the program are there for me to practice as deeply or as superficially as I choose at any given moment. 

The question of spiritual fitness has been up for me these last few months as I've walked through an unanticipated medical diagnosis. I had my final radiation treatment today, and will meet with the oncologist on Friday to learn about on-going medication and monitoring. All in all, in hindsight, it has been relatively low-key, but man, were those first few months of uncertainty a challenge! I find myself asking, "What just happened?" thinking of the month of diagnostic scans, the month or so of surgery and recovery, and four weeks of treatment. So, yes, relatively low key, and I find myself a bit weepy, with gratitude and grief related to the quickly formed and intense relationships I've made at the clinic, along with the vulnerability of laying on the table each day, techs drawing on my chest, measuring and calculating and radiating the heck out of my left torso. I ended up phoning my sponsor, saying, "I'm having emotions so thought I should call!" 

This does feel like a turning point of sorts, the in-between space that my recent Tarot reading indicated. As I've quoted an old therapist before, it's like being on the monkey bars and letting go of one rung before having hold of the next. And while I prefer skywriting (DO THIS!), I'm thinking that this particular transition is of a more subtle, quieter type. I'm signing up for a new volunteer gig, precipitated by my gratitude for an easy cancer path, and, a character in a short story I started several years ago has been talking to me. I don't need fireworks. I do want to pay attention to the whispered urges, the fleeting ideas, which involves getting quiet and being still - often tough for me to do.

And, with the passing of the last of my mom's generation this past week, which uncomfortably places me and my generation in the role of elder, I'm even more determined to pay attention, though I think that is less an activity than a way of being. Since Mom has been gone, and now Betty, there is no one left to answer questions, like "Who is that tall woman standing behind Grandma in this photo," or "Tell me again how you get the applesauce so tasty." In response to my post regarding Betty's passing, a friend noted the sadness at seeing the end of a generation, hopeful that the next generation (us) will pass on what we learned. That's a tough one given rapid technological changes that make much of the old wisdom obsolete, though some of what I learned from those raised during the Great Depression came in very handy during pandemic lockdown (for example, always have toilet paper in the closet and beans in the pantry). Some of what I learned growing up was probably bunk - like my favorite Aunt telling us that tan fat was better than white fat, as she basked in the backyard, extension corded fan oscillating. 

In a long-ago psychology class, the story was told about a woman who always cut the ends off ham before baking. When her husband asked why, she said, "Because that's the way my mother did it." When he asked his mother-in-law why, she said it was because her mother did it that way. When he finally got to grandma, she said "I cut it so it would fit in the pan." Tradition and "because we've always done it," aren't always reason enough to continue. And isn't that a big piece of recovery, especially of the Alanon variety - looking at old ideas, beliefs and passed-down opinions to see what is true today? I don't remember how old I was when I first realized "the" truth, in many cases, was simply "my" truth. I can still get caught up in thinking my way is best, which is why I keep coming back!

How does your spiritual fitness, or lack thereof, show up today? What transitions are you facing, and how do you keep moving forward while honoring your emotions? How can you be a bit more gentle with yourself? Are there any lurking, "But I've always done it this way" beliefs that might need to be examined? What lessons learned from your elders (family or program) might be important to pass on?

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See the Jan 13, 2023 post 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 ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th