A quote from writer Matt Haig offers the following: To stop time, kiss. To travel in time, read. To escape time, listen to music. To feel time, write. To release time, breathe.
I'd add, to speed up time, change plans abruptly! I was scheduled to share at a daily speaker/discussion Step meeting last Friday, but at five-of meeting time on Thursday, got a panicked call asking if I could do it then instead. I wasn't as dolled up as I might've been on Friday, but my hair was combed and I was out of my pj's so said, "Uh, maybe??"
I don't always react so serenely to change. Of course, it depends on what it is, and the proposed difference. But usually, if I take a breath, I can go with the flow. When I got the last-minute call, I told the meeting secretary I had a volunteer commitment immediately after the group. With my initial vision, I didn't see how I could possibly speak, but she asked, "Can you share for the allotted 30 minutes and then leave?" Well, sure, now that you put it that way - a small example of me not always seeing the bigger picture.
Or should I say, rarely seeing the bigger picture. I can't possibly know that if I turn that particular corner, I'll see an old friend I hadn't seen in years, like running into a high school pal in the far reaches of the local grocery where I didn't find what I was looking for. This friend is newly retired and hating it, describing her formerly cushy office and workmates. I've heard us described as FIP, or "Formerly Important Persons." There were perks, of course, like the regular paycheck, but I do not miss either the office or the responsibilities. I wish her well on the journey.
Which, again and always, makes me grateful for the fellowship. With both in-person and online meeting options galore I need never feel alone. I was reminded this week that how we come together is no accident, like my taking a service commitment with a 10+ group of women just as I was diagnosed with breast cancer, drawing on the experience, strength and hope of members who'd walked the same path. A chance encounter, reading something that triggers an ah-ha, making a lifelong friend in the four days our treatment experience overlapped - none of these can be predicted.
I just read Matthew McConnaughey's book, Green Lights, one of many I've picked up from the little lending library kiosks throughout the neighborhood. He is definitely a character, with a unique way of telling his story, but I really like how he ended: "Life is our resume. It is our story to tell, and the choices we make write the chapters. Can we live in a way where we look forward to looking back?"
Can I live in such a way that I look forward to looking back? Every day is not a breathtaking adventure, but even the quiet times can leave me satisfied and at peace, which is one of the many gifts of long-term recovery. Years and years ago a woman shared at my home group how all she really wanted was to stop drinking, but instead got so much more - true friends she could count on, a solid partner, work she enjoyed, a sense of self that didn't depend on substances or what others thought. I wanted what she had, realizing on some level that obtaining any of it meant continuing to keep the plug in the jug while doing my best to apply the principles of the Steps, one decision at a time.
I watched a moving documentary, "26.2 to Life" about the running club inside San Quentin prison. The fastest guy spoke about being sober for the 18 years of his incarceration, dropping AA hints like "one day at a time." He was granted parole by the end of the film, but not before he'd run 107 laps around the exercise yard to reach 26.2 miles (6 weeks after his release, he ran the Boston marathon). I will never again bemoan my privileged life. As the outside coach who trains the incarcerated runners said, he doesn't want to be judged by the worst thing he's ever done and hopes there is room for redemption and change. I hoped the same for myself, and my experience in AA shows that to be true as I got so very much more than I would've deserved at the time.
This weekend I attended the memorial for a local long-timer, who died just a week before his 41st AA anniversary. He'd known he was on the way out, so was able to plan his service in the remaining days, asking that it be held like an AA meeting. We should all be so fortunate, to be remembered as a kind person, dedicated to fun and service and passing it on.
The following day, I walked the Portland Half Marathon - a great experience on a great course, with lots of fun neighborhood support. I did well - 29th out of 61 in my age group - but the best parts were the connections, brief but touching. As I shared my "F*** Cancer" theme for walking, the woman I was conversing with shared about her bilateral mastectomy a year earlier. A little further on, I passed an old guy who let me know he was 81 years old (!). A mile ahead I saw a young woman in a tutu, with a sign pinned to her back that read, "Clean & Sober 9 months!" I caught up, letting her know I'd been sober longer that she'd been alive, suggesting she keep putting one foot in front of the other because it just keeps getting better.
Suiting up and showing up - for my community, my family, my friends and myself. What a difference from the days I'd make promises only to break them, make dates and appointments only to be late if I showed up at all. I like being responsible and accountable. What used to take conscious effort is now simply who I am. Thank you for showing me how it's done.
How do you feel when plans change? How do you calm yourself in order to go with the flow? What about the McConnaughey quote? Are you living in such a way that your memories are overall positive? (even when looking back at the tough times?) If you planned your own memorial or celebration of life, what music or readings would you choose? (It's never too soon to plan). How do you suit up and show up these days?
* * *
It might be time to start thinking about a year-end inventory. 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
No comments:
Post a Comment