Awareness as a tool

 Mindless repetition of any practice, with no clear goal or clarity of intention, can in fact keep us quite unconscious—unless the practices keep breaking us into new insight, desire, compassion, and an ever-larger notion of [Higher Power] and ourselves. Automatic repetition of anything is a recipe for unconsciousness, the opposite of any genuine consciousness, intentionality, or spiritual maturity.     Richard Rohr 4/9/24

The above Richard Rohr quote speaks to me (I get his daily emails) as I strive to remain teachable, always, but especially in long-term recovery when so much of my practice feels automatic - don't drink, go to meetings (or not, as the case may be with you), strive to be honest, open-minded and willing. As my first sponsor used to say, "You either grow, or you go." She didn't say anything about a time limit or an arrival date.

This past week, in Sedona, Arizona, friends and I went for a hike, then more trekking over rocks and boulders to find the Airport Mesa Vortex. We got there, and along with a dozen other seekers, sat quietly to absorb the energy and nature's beauty. I wanted to, but am not sure I actually felt anything, other than the wind. The quest was a bit of "Serenity now!!" in that we'd come all that way and I wasn't leaving until we found a vortex! It was a fun, and beautiful quest in the amazing geology of Sedona, but reminded me that I can't simply conjure up a spiritual experience - OK, Universe, it's Tuesday and I have half an hour, so let's have at it. My moments of psychic rearrangement have usually occurred in a pool of tears, after inventories galore, and the pain that comes with unearthing the deep and often dark caverns of grief - for those I've lost, things not said, or for my own un-awakened self who struggled with how to be in the world.

So, vortex or no vortex (a friend who lived there says it is a sham designed for tourists - not sure I believe that either), I came home from vacation with a renewed appreciation for my everyday life, as well as gratitude for stellar travel companions and the resources to experience new places. I traveled a fair amount in the few years before hitting bottom, but much of that was through the haze of a hangover. It is good to be alive, and aware, and to remember what I did the day before.

Staying aware is a component of keeping my program practice vital. If I'm glossing over the pages in my daily reader because I've practically got them memorized, maybe I can switch to a book of poetry to steer my morning contemplations. If my meetings feel stale (less an issue in the time of zoom), I can always try another, grateful to live in a metropolitan area with multiple choices each day, both online and in-person. Whenever and wherever I notice myself in a stupor of the automatic, I can shake myself awake. 

Kittens help with that - we've had ours now for about 8 months. Nothing like young pets to shake up one's perspective, noticing the sheer joy of their explorations. (For us, part of that has meant moving anything glass or precious out of leaping range.)  Our daughter provides that window into newness and possibilities as well, as do newcomers in meetings where the whole world is at their feet. I am not 24, or 2 months sober, or a kitten (!), however, I don't want to be a stale old lady who's seen it all. I have seen and done a lot, and, the world (both the inner and outer landscapes) are still there - as interesting as I let myself believe them to be.

I once heard someone share that an alcoholic will take a rut, put in indoor-outdoor carpeting and call it home. There's nothing wrong with cozy familiarity, but please let me see beyond the nose on my face or the dirty dishes in the sink.

How do you remain teachable today? Where do you find magic in the everyday? How do you shake yourself out of a mindless stupor to keep your spiritual program alive?

* * *

Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) 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 

Bondage of self

 This week I'm in sunny (hot) Arizona, vacationing with my two travel buddies. I'm not generally a fan of high temps (hence, my love of the usually temperate Pacific Northwest), but a sunny getaway during the rainy months is welcome - as my friend says, vitamin D via nature, not a pill.  And, it's good for my soul to experience an environment unlike my usual day-to-day,  whether that's in the desert,  the Oregon coast, or a walk in the woods. 

I shared at a speaker meeting last weekend (I was the Alanon) - always a trigger for anxiety as well as an opportunity to be of service. I almost didn't go into the addiction counseling field because I knew that lecturing was part of the job description. In high school I'd either cut class or stay home sick on the rare days I needed to do a presentation. Ah, bondage of self - way more concerned with what people might think of me than was warranted. Some of that is adolescence, with the "invisible audience" stage of maturing. No, dear, you only think people are watching you (ha ha - a whole 'nother state of mind when using paranoia-inducing chemicals). Anyhow, I tend to twitch as I think about speaking, but, thank you AA/Alanon, am ok once I get going. And as we know, there are usually three talks we give - the one in the car on the way to the group, the actual share, and the one on our way home, thinking of everything we left out. Yes, here I am, one more time, more like my fellows than different.

I expect to be deep into my temporary elections job when I get home. I think back to early retirement when I had the urge to know what I was supposed to be doing next. I've since settled into the knowledge that what I'm to do will present itself, and that I can change my mind as my priorities shift and change. What a concept! I used to operate on the belief that a decision was a decision was a decision. Obviously, some things are an either-or, but so much isn't. That is one of the freedoms of getting older - that knowing that things change, I change, what I may want changes.

In 1981 in Portland, downtown was reconfigured to include Pioneer Square, dubbed the city's living room, a block with open space and seating for events and just hanging out. As part of the process, personalized bricks were sold that now and forever pave the area. I bought one for myself, my boyfriend, my brother and my bestie's three kids. While I've sort of looked for mine over the years, to no avail, one of my "When I'm Retired" items was to find the brick, which I did recently, with the help of a nice security guy. As I told my brother (who now wants me to find his), this is likely my marker, my headstone of sorts as I don't expect an actual grave when I go. 

And so, an example of priorities - I had vague "I should find my brick" or "I really should go find my grandfather's gravesite" but neither were pressing. Like when I was bemoaning that it was taking literal years to finish my novel, asking myself, "If I say this is important, why is it I do everything but??"  My therapist at the time said, "Maybe you need to choose it," as in, decide, then take the action. And that includes looking at my internalized "should's," a current one being around my writing. I've been wrestling with the "now I'm retired, I should write another book" demon, when in reality, I'm not feeling moved to do so. Is this a dream to release, along with the long ago desire to own a house at the beach or go back to playing the piano? If I really wanted to do any of these things, I'd be doing them, so perhaps I can let myself off the hook, like recently realizing that it's really OK that I haven't read many of the classics or that I'm woefully undereducated regarding classical music, acknowledging that there isn't likely going to be a test at the end! ODAT, what moves my heart today?

As I was leaving my walking group last weekend, full of gratitude for this recovery life, the old fear of the other shoe dropping popped up, as if there is only so much good to go around, and I've had my quota. But then I remembered that last year at this time, I was being treated for breast cancer. Sometimes the other shoe does drop, and the principles of the program always, always get me through.

How does the bondage of self show up for you today? What are your priorities at the moment, not what you think they should be? Does the fear of the other shoe dropping ever stalk you? What do you say to calm it when it does?

* * *

Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) 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 

Inner feelings

 I've found my way (or the way has found me) to the social media algorithms for aging - aging women in particular. I don't mind so much, though it is eerie to suddenly see ads for something I was only thinking about along with the articles about getting older. I'm now seeing all sorts of lovely pieces on aging with grace, aging with "screw you Madison Avenue!" or aging with an eye to the inevitable.

Many of the pieces I read talk about how one feels the same inside all along, though the image in the mirror has changed. I remember my mother talking about that - how she felt the same as she always had, even as she entered her 80's. I agree, though I do have more confidence in myself and my ability to handle life-on-life's-terms than I did when younger. But yes, I was a mischievous and energetic kid who liked reading and climbing trees. Climbing trees is probably not a good idea these days, but the rest still fits. I like to throw parties, I'm drawn to people who make me laugh, I love the beach. How much of who I am and always have been is innate, and how much is learned, and does it really matter at this point?

So what is different, besides the smile lines and saggy neck? Friends and I talk about a shift in energy. What used to include working all day, attending an evening meeting then maybe dinner or a movie afterwards has morphed into quiet evenings at home. A day now feels full if I have two things scheduled, where before, cramming the calendar was the norm and actually fed my energy (I've long said I'd rather be busy than bored). I used to bounce back quicker from a long run/walk or a strenuous hike. I've always needed my 8 hours of sleep, but these days, the getting there is more of a challenge. I have less interest in the latest anything and prefer shopping in my own closet.

On an internal, emotional level, life is generally calmer because I'm not as twitched about people, places and things as I might've been. That's in context of course - an election year here in the US has plenty of opportunity for rumination - but overall, I'm more aware that the beat goes on, with or without my input. There are still blips on the path - a diagnosis, a loss, a change in circumstance - and, I now have years and years of walking through the fears, stumbling over the boulders and watching you do the same, knowing that yes, I am and will be OK.

Maybe it's about redefining what "OK" means. It certainly isn't that every single thing goes my way, that the neighbors will never take my parking spot or that I'll be able to zip the cute jeans. It doesn't mean that I'll never get a scary diagnosis or that no one I love will get sick (I remember my aunt, near the end of her life, asking, "You didn't think I'd live forever, did you?!" Well, yes, I'd kind of hoped...). It doesn't mean that the roof won't leak, or the beloved pet won't die.  What it means today is that I am OK - the internal me, the part of me that observes all the stuff happening in me and my world. And I very much realize that this contemplation is a luxury and might be a different conversation if I didn't know where I'd sleep tonight, or where my next meal was coming from. Always, perspective...

In a recent meeting, someone shared that they prefer the idea of living the Steps vs working them. I like that image. In earlier recovery, I did have to work them - consciously wondering which Step applied and how to use it. I no longer feel like a project, like damaged goods, and over time, the Steps and the principles have simply become a part of my world view. So, for me, the question is, how do I apply the Steps, in my own relatively comfortable life, while being aware of the suffering around me, as well as making myself available for service (whether in program or the greater world)? Deciding where I'll point my attention, how I will greet and accept the various feelings that arise in the course of a day, how I will implement the pause - all keep me in contact with the Steps and the principles of the program.

How has your internalized view of self changed over the years, and how are you still the person you always were? Has the inventory process helped to unravel the parts that were learned and the parts that are simply you? If life is a series of lessons, what is it you are learning today? How do you live and apply the Steps to life on life's terms, the big things and the small, knowing you are ok, no matter what?

* * *

Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) 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 

Decisions

 My stepdaughter's birthday was this past week - our relationship being one of those unexpected gifts I hadn't known I'd wanted. 

I spent a lot (a LOT) of time in my 30's and early 40's on the decision. I was aware I'd kind of done life backwards - when my friends were having kids as young marrieds, I was drinking my brains out, intuitively if unconsciously knowing I probably wouldn't/couldn't stay sober for 9 months. I was then faux-retired, traveling with my boyfriend, neither interested in curtailing our lifestyle.

And then, sobriety at 31 - still in the childbearing years, without a prospect. I could hear the clock ticking, and explored having a baby with a gay friend, but while that was still in the planning stage, met the guy I'd be with for the next 9 years, someone even more ambivalent than I was about parenthood.

And so, he and I muddled through, sometimes talking about marriage and kids, mostly not. I did talk about it for hours with my running pal - training for marathons gives one a lot of time to converse. We were both aware that time was slipping away while saying things like, "When I finish my degree," or "After the next race," obviously not compelled.

I did an awful lot of thinking, however, including checking out several books from the library that were very helpful. One suggested that I journal in one color ink when I was certain I wanted a baby and another color when I was just so-so. That was a great and eye-opening tool, and one I've used for other decision situations. This book also said that whichever path I chose, there would be some regrets, and that not having kids didn't mean that I'd have to be a super-achiever in other areas. Again, useful information for other either/or matters

Eventually, mother nature took the decision from me, though by then, I'd written my master's thesis on the validity of not having children in a culture that hadn't quite caught up with the reality of reproductive choice. And the beat went on...  I never even dated anyone who was actively parenting.

Then I met this guy, this extrovert, who had a 9-year-old daughter. It was a bit of a process for all of us, but our relationship is one of the highlights of my life. As it was for my mom, who'd always said, "Whatever makes you happy, honey," but was so very happy herself to have a granddaughter. 

So what does all this have to do with long-term sobriety? A reminder to myself that, even though I had my hopes and dreams about how life would or could turn out, the details were/are in the hands of the Fates. As always, I can make plans but the outcomes are not in my control. That can feel scary, or "thank goodness!"

I went out to dinner and an in-person meeting last week for a Program friend's 36th anniversary. I will say that while it was nice to see people, it didn't feel like something I need to do again. Friday nights used to be a required meeting/social night, when I lived for the weekend. I drank every night of the week, but on Fridays, especially, it felt important to fill-in-the-blank with meetings and meetings people. These days, whether related to post-pandemic or simply getting older, I'm less inclined.

In any event, the Friday birthday person will always be in my memory for something she said, probably 15 years ago: "When I know better, I have to do better."  At the time, I thought "Crap!" because I knew better but wasn't doing better. Funny how I can hear something 46 times and on the 47th have that "ah ha" moment.  I read somewhere that maturity includes the ability to foresee consequences, then behave accordingly. That is much easier as time goes on, vs the old days of act-now-pay-later. 

This came up recently with a "should" vs self-care. Gratefully, I'm in a place where self-care usually wins out, but still sometimes with the guilt-battle of thinking it's not ok to want what I want or feel what I feel. It used to be that the agitation of that inner-conflict would push me towards a peace-keeping decision, no matter the cost to my serenity. Today I'm better able to slow it all down, take a deep breath and know that if nobody's bleeding and nothing is on fire, I can do what's best for me. 

What is your process when you have a big decision to make? What parts of your life are different than what you'd thought would happen? What about the "When I know better, I have to do better?" Does that trigger a "Yes!" or an "Uh oh"?  What is it you do when an old "should" is trying to convince you to let go of your serenity?

* * *

Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) 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