"I don't know"

 One of my daily readers says, "It is a sign of strength, not of weakness, to admit that you don't know all the answers," going on to describe how pride, and the desire to be admired got in the way of humility. I agree - in fact a friend has said that "I don't know" is the most spiritual thing they can say. I don't think that pride was my driver as much as shame, simply not knowing it was OK to not know. My dad was the stoic type who wouldn't stop the car to ask directions, and held himself to a high standard (this is my guess - we never talked about it). So, probably like many in my generation, I didn't have many examples of adults asking for help, though my math teacher, the one who beaned me over the head with a textbook, once said, "The only stupid question is the one you don't ask." 

I was embarrassed to not know stuff before I got sober - I thought I was supposed to know, even when something I'd have no way of knowing. That surrender of admitting to my innermost self that I'm alcoholic was the first stage of being able to acknowledge that there is so much I don't know, so much I'm not in control of. A relief, though scary at first. And, always good to remember when I find myself in "figure it out" mode, as if thinking harder about something will change or fix it.

As I was walking on one of the first rainy days here in Portland, reveling in the change of seasons, the thought popped up of "So how do you want to spend this autumn?" not wanting to wake up on December 21 at the Equinox saying, "Wow - that went fast!" That will probably happen, but in the meantime, how do I want to inhabit this season? What do I want to do? How do I want to be of service? How do I want to be?

I feel a longing for spiritual connection, for time with myself, not simply grabbing a 30-minute nap between tasks or appointments or dates with friends - all important, and part of what brings richness to my life, and... it's harder to hear the still, small voice when I'm constantly on the move. Again and always, I don't want to pathologize my basic nature, and as the clock ticks, I'm more and more aware that I have a limited amount of time remaining. As an African proverb states, "When death finds you, may it find you alive." Or as Mary Oliver so beautifully puts it in her poem, When Death Comes, "When it's over, I want to say all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.., I don't want to end up simply having visited this world." I don't read this as a directive to DO MORE, but as a reminder to be present, to notice my life rather than glide on through. 

A friend was just diagnosed with the "big C", or should I say, "another friend" was just diagnosed. I'm telling you, this business of diagnoses, procedures, etc etc seems almost like the rites of passage I wrote about last week. The good news is that cancer isn't automatically the death sentence that it might've once been, with earlier detection and advances in treatment. And still, it isn't a word anyone wants associated with themselves or a loved one, or even a mere acquaintance. Again and again, we get, I get the opportunity to practice the principles in all my affairs. How do I show up, for myself and for others? How do I trust that all will be well, even when it seems otherwise at first glance. 

It's now been one year since my sister-in-law went into a memory care foster home. That flew by, though maybe not for my brother, who sees her 3-4 times a week. Sometimes she asks if he's married, and he'll say, "Yes, honey - to you." He tells me that some families are upset because their person doesn't recognize them, but those folks only visit once a month or less, so not surprising. I imagine there will be a time when his wife doesn't recognize him at all too, but in the meantime, he'll keep showing up for a visit or to take her out for a drive. I admire his loyalty.

I have a small handful of friends who are concerned about their cognition - a scary place to be. By my thinking, when you're gone, you're gone, but can only imagine the terror when you know you're losing your abilities. Aging is not for wimps and there seems no rhyme or reason for dementia. At first, my sister-in-law wondered if she'd done something "wrong." No. She was a doctor's office manager in her professional life, well read and a jazz aficionado. Intelligence seems to have nothing to do with it. The luck of the draw, as my brother told her.

And I just learned of another friend's relapse, yet again. Is continuous sobriety the luck of the draw as well? Do some people simply not hurt enough to stay? That can't be it, but I do think that the more times one slips, the harder it can be to get back and that using and drinking over time damages the brain. This damned disease - cunning, baffling and powerful. I certainly can't fix anyone else, but I can be there for support, and can utilize their example of the precious nature of sobriety and the daily reprieve.

How do you envision this autumn season (spring in the southern hemisphere) unfolding, and how will you be present for each day? How do you practice the principles, even when the world turns topsy turvy or you get news you'd rather not? As a person in long-term recovery, is sobriety still your priority (though granted, maybe in different ways than when new)? What is your relationship to saying "I don't know?"

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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or hard copy mailed to you). Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. And a reminder that the workbook, is available at the Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th. for local folks.