Perceptions...

 I feel the need to bust myself and my sometimes judgy assumptions. As I waited for the small plane to take me from Minneapolis to Grand Forks, ND to meet my friend for the hour drive to his sister's place, I couldn't help but notice a woman, laughing and talking very loudly to anyone within earshot. Kind of like when there are crying babies in the waiting area, I thought, "Please don't let me be seated next to her." 

Of course, I was, and within minutes, she told me her name, that she's high-functioning Down's Syndrome, that she travels independently and was on her way to spend a month with a favorite aunt. We had a delightful visit, talking about her professed obsession with Elvis, her family, and her plans for participating in a fashion show while at her aunt's. And so, one more time, my perception and initial impression were way off. A good reminder to check myself when my inner critic starts her rant.

On our drive west, we found a small meeting in Utah, chaired by a fellow with 3 or 4 years, 1 other guy, and a treatment center van of about 15 women. My friend was able to take his 40-year coin, longer sober than many of these women had been alive. It was enlightening, and always a good reminder, to hear nearly half of the women who shared talk about having some years in recovery, then either "forgetting" they're alcoholic, or simply deciding to stop treating the disease (stop meetings, no sponsor, etc) and, lo and behold, drinking and drugging again and back in treatment. Heartbreaking, the stubbornness of we drunks, especially those who talked about their small children. Chronic, progressive, debilitating. I'm convinced that the brain gets damaged with continued substance use, affecting the ability to make healthy decisions. Yes, people do get lasting sobriety after 5, 10 or 15 tries, but from the outside, it sure looks like it gets harder and harder to come back. 

It was great spending time with my friend, though I only drove a few of our many hours on the road. We stopped at a couple of sites (the Badlands, Mt Rushmore), listened to 3 speaker CD's, ate Subway sandwiches at truck stops and drank Starbucks when we found them. I'd never been to that part of the country, amazed by the geographical journey through amber waves of grain, canyons, passing oil derricks, and through tiny towns. We had a counselor in treatment all those years ago who'd say, "You can do anything you want to do as long as you don't drink or use." For me, travel is part of that "anything," seeing places I've only read about, experiencing different cultures, even if just in passing (and believe me, life on the road in the heartland is a different culture than where I live). 

I drove a new-to-me cancer patient to his appointment this week - a jovial, older guy who insisted on sitting up front with me so we could be friends, wearing a button that said, "Fuck Cancer" - in other words, my kind of guy. A nurse friend once told me that she and her peers liked working oncology because those folks nearly always have a positive attitude. 

What is it about staring death in the face that often brings out the best in people? I see it in the rooms with the laughter and camaraderie, like the survivors of  sinking ship the Big Book talks about. We've been to the gates of hell and had the grace and the strength to claw our way back. Sure, it's not always unicorns and rainbows, but here we are, sober a long, long time, living life on life's terms.  As I say, "grateful" is too small a word.  

The world feels extra crazy right now, with cries for peace bumping up against calls for revenge. I try to walk the fine line between being informed and engaged, and not losing my serenity in the fray. What I do is stick with my morning routine of daily readers and journal, walking outdoors, contact with friends, being of service where I can, avoiding large crowds, and  meditating on peace, for myself, my country and our planet. One day at a time is all I can reasonably do.

What do you do when you catch yourself in judgement of yourself or others? Are you able to hold compassion for the chronic relapser? How can you be of service, while also taking care of yourself? Where do you find peace of mind when the "news" of the day is heartbreaking and/or infuriating?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Settled-ness

 This past week I drove with my dear friend from Minnesota to Las Vegas as he contemplates next steps after an early out from his job in DC. Part of the journey was spending the night at his sister's place, who I haven't seen in person for many years. I always want to thank her for my sobriety. If she hadn't gotten sober and moved to Portland, then my friend likely wouldn't have moved to Portland and gotten sober when he did and ended up in the treatment program I went to in January 1986. Who knows if I'd have stayed sober without his positive influence. Maybe, but it's been a lot more fun together.

I love stepping back just a bit to look at random connections, all the way back to Bill and Bob. There was the conversation I struck up with a fellow in Vancouver, BC in July, who turned out to be a classmate of my brother's, the woman from a class at the gym who is pals with a program friend, being introduced to someone who turned out to be a work mentor by my then supervisor who knew she was terminally ill. One day at a time, one connection at a time

Speaking of, I attended my original homegroup a couple of weeks ago, having not been there in literally decades. There was one fellow there from those old days and we spoke of the ghosts in the room - Boxcar Leonard, Jack, Kim, Art N - folks whose words and wisdom contributed greatly to my sobriety. Random connections, simply by virtue of walking into the same room week after week. I didn't know that I craved community before I got sober, but I'm so glad that I found it.

In another recent meeting, a member shared that something has shifted in long-term sobriety, that the same annoyances and irritations and fears no longer held much weight. I agree. Being 39 and change, I too have noticed a settled-ness that wasn't there in earlier years.  

Some of my internal shifts have felt sudden, though the path to get there was anything but. I think of my tearful prayer while in treatment, "F-it God - I can't do this anymore. You take over." with the feeling like a pencil snapping in two - one minute I needed to get loaded and the next I didn't. A gift. And then, after years of inventory and outside help, there was the sensation of a lightning bolt when I finally understood, from my head to my heart, that my dad's alcoholism and depression had nothing to do with me. A gift.

But much of the psychic rearrangements of these later years have been more subtle, calmer, gradual, with the realization that "Oh That would've been harder in years past," or "Whoa! Did that statement really come from me?" I think the principles of the program become internalized over time, that life on life's terms softens my response, as in "I've been through this before, or know someone who has, and I know I'll be OK." Not that I want the diagnosis or the bad news, the change in plans or finding my foot stuck in my mouth, but time has shown me that I can do just about anything, ODAT.

What random connections have contributed to your ongoing recovery, or perhaps to your career or other life events? What about the psychic rearrangements, cataclysmic or gradual? How are your 10th Steps different today? 

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

History as a trigger

 I'm not sure how to write about this in a general way, so I'll just dive into what's on my mind. The other evening I watched a PBS documentary about the singer, Janis Ian, who's first release was a song she wrote at age 14 called Society's Child. Released in 1966, it was considered controversial as it was about a white girl's relationship with a Black boy that the girl gave up because of society's judgements. 

My relationship with my first husband started in 1970, when acceptance in the area of interracial relationships had shifted some, but that song still hit me in my idealistic teenage heart. For the most part, my family and  peers were fine with us, but there were definitely incidences of discrimination and prejudice, mostly from adults (like the physician who told my mother to "keep her away from 'them'" to the construction workers on our street who made a snide comment about me after my boyfriend dropped me off after school, the police officer who leaned into my side of the car to ask, "Does your mother know where you are?" while staring at my boyfriend). 

Maybe it's because of the anniversary of his birthday, and of our wedding date in September, with him now gone 5 years. Maybe it was watching footage in the documentary of the social and civil rights revolution and so many being harmed. Maybe it was the grief that I still sometimes feel for the younger me that often flailed through life, but whatever the reason, I found myself weeping in my spouse's arms, sad for the 15, 16, 17-year-old me that, while sometimes acting defiant, was stunned by the overt judgment of others. (as racial prejudice wasn't something I was raised with). At the time, I collected magazine articles on the subject, wrote poetry, and talked for hours with my best friend and my boyfriend, about the ignorance that fed hate. Once married, we had a great life (for a while), back when drinking was still fun in our multi-cultural friend group. But I will say that as I contemplated the demise of the marriage (my mother was right - we were too young), I was sad to now be just another statistic of a mixed couple who didn't make it.

What does this have to do with long-term recovery? I'm not sure, other than my surprise that those old, old feelings that I may not even have acknowledged at the time, reached out to say, "Sometimes it was tough back then."  I think of the many times over the years that healing came through unexpected tears, having done the internal work, having emotionally or spiritually opened the channel, or sometimes just because of a song on the radio or a story on TV.

The late 60's and early 70's were an intense time to grow up, whether one followed a more traditional path or not. I suppose each generation has its trials and joys, from wars and politics, economics and pop culture of the day. The AA literature advises that we not get overly invested in affairs of the world. Easier said than done, and all a part of who I am today. 

And so, the beat goes on, which sometimes includes the past reaching out to grab me by the ankle with an "I bet you forgot about this!"  I've learned, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, that my emotions usually just want to be acknowledged, and in doing so, I allow them to pass on through. Sometimes that benefits from pen to paper, sometimes a conversation with a trusted other, sometimes an internal "Yes. I see you."

Are there incidences, memories or situations from your past that sometimes speak to you these days? How do you gain perspective on the past, forgiving yourself or perhaps others? Do you have tools that help you stay in the present?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Doing vs being...

 After an awesome week with a friend, including much of what I sometimes think I don't have time for (a day at the beach, hike in the woods, dinner with friends), it felt good to reclaim the 2nd bathroom and my office/guest room. I love getting ready for company, and... it is nice doing a reset to my usual regimen. I didn't really know that about myself before I got sober - my preference for structure and routine. Self-knowledge isn't enough to stop drinking, but it sure is a boon to my serenity today. 

As we swelter through a 2nd heatwave (100 degrees is very hot for Portland) I find myself thinking ahead to the shift in seasons. OK, a bit of future tripping as I anticipate sweater weather, but rather than thinking about what I want to do, I'm meditating on how I want to be as fall approaches. I nearly always have a To-Do list, but I also think of seasonal change as an opportunity for a mini-inventory of what's working and what isn't, whether that's related to meetings, my volunteer gig, or how I approach my days. Am I getting agitated or distracted by too much time reading the news of the day? Do I have passion for my walking practice, or am I just going through the motions (not bad in and of itself if I'm still moving, but maybe time to rethink my routes or timing)?

As August winds down, I'll make tomato sauce from our bounty because it needs to be done, but also as a way to connect with my female lineage, oh they of stout figure and full pantry. I'll check around the house exterior for any minor repairs needed, mindful of the responsibilities of homeownership. I'll start keeping an eye out for next year's journal, because it's what I love to do. 

I realize much of what I'm describing is related to "doing" but what I want to be conscious of is the attitude I bring to even mundane tasks. A friend shared something from a woman, now deceased, who knew she wouldn't live to see her young child grow up. This woman said she didn't have time to hurry, to be in a rush, knowing that she really, truly needed/wanted to savor every single moment. 

I've long been a "hurry up" kind of person, afraid to run out of time for this thing or another, not wanting to be late - in my mother's world, being on-time was late, so I know that this "ism" is at least partially learned behavior. I don't want to pathologize this trait, "and" can apply "How important is it?" when I'm feeling rushed. Am I in danger of being late for a flight, or is it merely my internal clock ticking?

Self-examination can apply to anything troubling. Perhaps procrastination is the issue or being chronically late; worries about money, real or imagined; fears around mortality or aging... pick your poison, as they say. I know that my characteristics are on a continuum, from helpful to hurtful, and they haven't really changed much over the years, other than by incremental degrees. What I appreciate about long-term recovery is that I'm (generally) aware of what is my stuff. Impatience? Check. Oldest child always right syndrome? Check. 

With August's focus on Step 8, I like to go back to the 12x12 (p.80) where Bill describes the importance of examining our personal relationships for details about ourselves. This isn't just about making a list, but about looking at how I interact in the world (because usually, the troubles I have with one person are the troubles I have with others). I love that he recommends going beyond the superficial - the lying, cheating and stealing - to discover the causes and conditions. For a long, long time, causes and conditions drove my behavior, for the most part unconsciously. And that's another benefit of long term sobriety - much of what I carried around in my head has made its way to my heart. That scared little girl, or snarky teenager, sometimes still tries to run the show, but I'm much better able to recognize and comfort that part of myself before getting into too much trouble. 

Do you have any seasonal rituals around this time of year? Are there any nourishing activities you think you don't have time for that you could do this week? In addition to things you want or need to do, how do you want to be? How does Step 8 allow you to go deeper into the dynamics of you your relationships?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them, if you're in the area.

Home

 In the last month, in two separate situations with two different people, I made up a story in my head about intention and motivation, taking the role of victim in one saga and the misunderstood spiritual warrior (again, victim) in the other. Upon further investigation, in contact with the actual people involved, the "me, me, me" proved completely false. Funny how that works - make stuff up, or ask questions. 

Years ago, someone shared their New Year's resolution to only talk to people who were actually in the room. How often do I hold entire conversations in my head, based on a snippet that might've been said, or a total fabrication? Once again and always, sound the "pause" alarm. Do I need to pick up the phone, or simply drop the fantasy (which is rarely positive)? Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly...

Every year around this time I question my ongoing participation in the monthly Step Group I've been a part of for close to a decade now. Like I hear others in the group say, I don't necessarily do the "homework" (reading in Big Book and 12x12) though I do think about how the particular Step applies in my life. Realistically, these days I think of the Steps as a whole, a way of life framed in honesty, open-mindedness and willingness - willingness to own my behaviors, open to new ideas, honest with myself and others. I will say that most of my "isms" show up in my primary relationship, which I'm not always comfortable talking about at group level. Is it pride? Trust issues? Maybe a little of both, and worth a conversation with a trusted other. I am feeling, though, that it is time to either do the work (vs last minute scribbles the day of) or move on. More will be revealed. It is a good group of strong women, and in-person. (and this is what I do - talk myself out of it and back in!)

A good friend from out-of-town is visiting this week - fun to hit the road (& the restaurants!), playing tour guide, connecting with mutual friends I don't usually see, and motivation to clean house! In a couple of weeks, I get to take a road trip with my bestie. I'm so very grateful to be retired. I sometimes think I'm supposed to have a grand plan, but basically it seems to be a matter of suiting up and seeing what the day, or week, presents. 

And I'm thinking of place, where we feel we belong, as a long-time acquaintance is home holding vigil for their father's passing. This person's life is a far cry from their rural upbringing, but putting their hands and feet in the earth of the family farm feels right. I think of that sense of place as a dear friend contemplates and makes plans to move back to the Midwest, back to where they grew up, back home. My sense of place, of belonging, is firmly rooted in the mossy green of my hometown. Even as a young kid, moving from the high desert of Central Oregon, I knew that the verdant Willamette Valley was my spiritual home (along with the mountains and ocean shore). 

Certain friendships have their place also - my friend who died as a result of ALS will always be associated with a particular long hill route where we trained for several marathons. Other friends are specific to a meeting where we sat near each other, or a dear family I associate with Miami (though several of them are now elsewhere). 

I've sometimes admired friends who freely move from one part of the country to another, though know that, just for today, that isn't me. I used to chastise myself just a bit for that, but now think that my rootedness is ok. I love to travel and experience different places, from rural New Mexico to NYC and beyond. And I love coming home. 

How do you catch yourself if you're having conversations in your mind that may or may not be based in reality? Where do you feel at home? Is that where you live, or elsewhere? How does the braided way of the 12 Steps inform your life as a person in long-term recovery?

Time...

 I stopped at one of the many "Little Free Library" kiosks in the neighborhood on a morning walk this week, perusing several titles as if I was at a Barnes and Noble. I walked away with two books, one, a true story about an elephant and his person, and another non-fiction about Army and Navy nurses held captive in the Pacific during WWII. Both look to be interesting, and if not, they'll go back to the kiosk sooner rather than later.

Long gone are the days I felt I had to finish every book I started. I'm not even sure where that notion came from, though I do remember a teacher showing us how to prime a new book for reading so as not to break the spine. I've also given myself permission to read simply for pleasure, rather than forcing myself to read the classics. Yes, some of those could be for pleasure, but I don't think there will be an entrance exam to heaven, or whatever comes next (if anything). Several years ago I had a conversation with someone slightly older than me, who'd realized they didn't have time to read all of a particular author's catalog. Again, no test at the end.

No test, but how will I feel at the end of it all? Did I allow myself to be appropriately challenged? Did I sprinkle in some educational tomes along with literary fiction and the occasional detective drama? My stoic, introverted brother can be found reading, often non-fiction, whenever I stop by. He doesn't have a mobile phone, so no mindless surfing for him. How many times in a day does one actually need to check social media?

 A friend asked if I read more now that I'm retired, and I think the answer is actually a bit less. Where I used to utilize the demarcation line between work and evening as a time to read for a bit (usually something of a spiritual or program nature), these days my daytime activities seem to morph into evening, as in, "Oh, it's almost time for dinner." 

Not that I'm overly invested in monumental doings. I'm noticing a wee bit of ennui as summer begins to wind down, with an ongoing internal inventory of whether or not it's been a good summer. It's been a different summer, with my spouse's huge work schedule shift, some travel, less time sitting in parks on summer nights with friends listening to local R&B music, less time in the garden for some reason. Sometimes I think I can be a little too introspective, but if nothing else over these many years of sobriety, I've learned to pay attention when something feels off-kilter, when I catch myself engaged in self-imposed isolation.

The missing link seems to be around engaging with friends - my balance between solo and social is off.  Funny, though, as in "is it odd or is it god?" within hours of identifying that particular lack, a friend reached out to re-start our Cabal meetings after summer hiatus. Yes. Connection. Spiritual conversation with people I trust. Exhale. And wouldn't you know it, I had several deep, to the core, conversations over the weekend while attending the Summerfest conference in Eugene, OR, and delightfully ran into someone I knew as a client many years ago now. We are people who normally would not mix, but I'm so glad we do.

Normally people who would not mix, or even meet each other. I was so grateful (again, that small word for such a big emotion) to start the weekend at the conference sitting off in a corner of the hotel lobby logged on to our every-other-week across the country zoom meeting, celebrating a member's 38th anniversary. And on Sunday, my BFF who I met in treatment, celebrated 40. 40 freaking years!?! How does that even happen? Yeah, yeah, one day at a time, but how quickly those days seem to have gone. The step-daughter who was 9 when we met is now 25, my mom has been gone for 13 years, I've been retired for 5. 

Somewhere I read that making friends with the passage of time is to my benefit, rather than the "OMG!" I so often do. As the women's meditation book says, each day really is a new beginning, a potentially new adventure if I open my mind and my heart.

How has your summer been thus far? How do you notice when you're feeling off-balance, and whether that is an internal or an external matter? How do you, or might you, make friends with the passage of time, greeting aging and the calendar with gratitude rather than dread? 

* * * * * *

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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them, if you're in the area.

Technology

 My high school has hosted an "All Years" reunion for 15 years now. I don't know that I've been to every one, but I'm in the neighborhood, so generally go down to the park to see who else shows up. There were 3 old guys there who'd graduated in the 1950's, and as usual, my 1970's cohort was well represented. This year, a fellow I've known since before high school, though not well, was there, saying that he's having memory issues, and wondered how we know each other. What do you say to that? "Well, your mother, the crew boss, kicked me and a friend off the berry field for acting out when I was 12 and we hitchhiked the 30 miles home"?  (and no, that would not be acceptable today, but we deserved it). Do you say, "Well, we passed each other in the school hallways a few times each week and nodded "hello"? I said something lame like, "We both graduated in 1972," which is really, no answer at all.

On that note, I sent a letter to the family of my friend who is in Alzheimer's care, along with a photo of her on the Great Wall of China, and received a sweet reply from her brother, noting that he visits once or twice a week, and that, while she can still take care of her ADL's (activities of daily living), they struggle to understand her fragmented sentences. Heartbreaking. Like my sister-in-law, she was a bright woman. I cannot take my physical health or my mental health for granted.

On another note, a friend who lives elsewhere, in writing about his art, said that he has "a sensory system calibrated for a world that no longer exists" (I.Y.Sei Akuchi). That exactly puts into words what I've been feeling, with A.I. and Chat GPT taking over my smart phone (the phone that is smarter than me), upgrades to various devices (of which I don't have many) that leave me confused...

I think about Bill and Bob, and the world they inhabited, using electricity and the steel girder to illustrate a point. What would they make of our computerized world, of online meetings and celebrities discussing their sobriety, not to mention AA meetings in movies and TV shows? 

Time marches on, with or without my approval, but I do feel like I have one foot in the land of my upbringing, days of moms standing on the porch to cry out "Dinner!" and this new-to-me territory of holding the world's knowledge in the palm of my hand. Of course I appreciate the convenience of checking in for a flight on my phone, or plugging in an address to get precise directions, but what was the last phone number I have memorized (I actually can tell you - a friend I made right before getting a cell phone) and when was the last time I printed out snapshots from a vacation? When is the last time I opened a cookbook, for that matter, since it is so very easy to call up a recipe on my phone and prop it on the kitchen counter? 

And back to the high school reunion, one of the committee members I spoke with talked about the challenges in communicating with alumni. The old folks might still be on Facebook (hello) while the younger graduates are certainly not. And not everyone even uses email anymore. And when did making an actual phone call become passe? Sure, texting is quick and easy, but sometimes I want to hear your voice. 

Yes, I'm complaining just a bit. Grateful for much of it, but with a wee bit of longing for people who said "hello" on the street rather than passing with their nose in the phone. Thank goodness for the timeless principles of our program, for the sitting in a circle and listening to each other share, whether in the online Hollywood Squares or in a church basement. Thank goodness for the semi-secret circle and triangle sticker that lets me know the car next to me in the parking lot belongs to a member. Thank you for our literature - the hefty Big Book with pages dog-eared and phrases highlighted, as well as the ability to type a phrase into my phone and be directed to the correct page in the book. 

I tend to think that Bill, at least, would be amazed, and pleased, at how the program has evolved with technology, and I think he'd be OK with changing all the "hes" and "hims" to gender neutral language if it opens the door of recovery to more people. We'll never know, but can only forge ahead, one day at a time.

How do you tenderly interact with friends who have cognition issues? If that describes you, how are you gentle with yourself as life brings changes you didn't expect? Are you tech savvy? Has your way of being caught up with how things are now? How can you be ok with knowing what you do know, without beating yourself up about what you don't?

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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). I will bring copies of the workbook to SUMMERFEST in Eugene in August.

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks.

Getting ready, letting go...

 To feel extraordinarily small and unimportant is always a wholesome feeling.  Robert H. Benson

The above quote from one of my daily readers made me think of the long-ago tour friends and I took of Tiananmen Square in Beijing. The Square is massive, with huge structures and statues, and was designed, according to our guide, to make the individual feel "small and insignificant." That was very much a political imperative, but in some ways can apply to our 12 Step striving to be a worker among workers, loosening the grip on feeling "terminally unique." That seems easier as I get older, in both human and recovery years. There is a psychic gift in coming to understand that I am merely one among many, my life a very tiny dot in the history of humanity.

A tiny dot, but my tiny dot, intersecting with all I've come in contact with over the years, formally, familial, or simply a brief but raucous interaction at the grocery store like I had early one morning this week with two check-out clerks. The Reader's Digest was right - laughter is the best medicine.

My spouse and I are putting together our "GO NOW" earthquake kits, a couple of backpacks as well as larger containers to load in the car if there is time. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we keep hearing that "it's not if, but when" the "big one" will strike, like it did on the coast of Russia this week. I was never a Girl Scout, but I understand the reminder to "Be Prepared." Hopefully, we'll never need to outrun a wildfire or a flood, or dig out after a quake, but now, when those pesky public service announcements come on the air, I can say "check." 

In the process of gathering items (a hand crank radio, solar phone charger, etc) I came across a 45ish year-old transistor radio. The man I was officially with when I hit bottom (vs the drug dealer I was sleeping with) had a business relationship with Panasonic, and this radio is an example of what was, at the time, innovation. It still works. Still works, and makes me think of the various desks and shelves it sat on, long before wireless speakers and streaming were invented. 

Funny, how objects can trigger memories of connections. Many years ago, I was in a noon meeting, fairly new, when a fellow in a suit talked about how alcoholics often give personalities to inanimate objects. He was specifically talking about not wanting to throw away a favorite pencil out of loyalty. My grandmother's quilt had a personality, though now it is merely an old blanket with a cigarette burn on one corner, and a stain where I spilled calligraphy ink decades ago. I've carried it with me for many, many years, though mostly it is crammed into a closet. I'm close to letting it go.

Memories and meaning often fade over time. When my mother died, I took nearly everything that wasn't tied down, feeling her presence in various dishes and knick-knacks and towels. Today, many of these items have become simply things, things to release. My brother's criteria, when I'm attempting to foist something back into the house we grew up in, is to determine if there is a memory attached. Not quite "Does it spark joy?" ala Marie Kondo, but does it evoke a moment? If not, let it go. Let it go, let it go. I sometimes ask myself what I'd take were I to move into a single room in an assisted living facility, like I've helped people do. Perspective.  

As I prepare to meet with my new sponsor to discuss Step 2, and to meet with Step Group to talk about Step 7, I think about any old ideas I may need to release, still. Some of my old ideas are entrenched, harder to recognize, easier to justify as "the way I've always been." One of the challenges of long-term sobriety for this alcoholic is to continue the work of practicing the principles, one day at a freaking time. 

How do you recognize when comfort morphs into complacency? What old ideas of yours creep into the realm of truth when they might not be real? How might you balance honoring yourself and your experiences while recognizing you are simply one among many?

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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). I will bring copies of the workbook to SUMMERFEST in Eugene in August.

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. 

Pause...

 A poet I hadn't heard of died this week - Andrea Gibson - and from what I'm reading on social media, their work was beautiful, all the more poignant as death approached What particularly stuck me was this: "In the end I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks." Oh my. 

Yes. Stretch marks and scars, divots and dings, from love lost and love found, heartache and heartbreak and heart fulfilled, grief and elation and everything in between. I think of peak experiences and the depths of despair, the doldrums and excitements - the whole shebang. One day at a time, let me be awake to it all.

A meeting I participated in this week was on the topic of going deep, as in, "Do I need to go deeper?" For me that brings up the whole resting on my laurels vs contemplating my navel discussion. How much self-reflection is enough, and when do I need to put down the pen and get into action? Do I have enough periods of quiet so that I can hear the still, small voice, or am I making stuff up to fit my ideas of how things should be? All related to the Alanon suggestion to "reason things out with someone else," lest my crafty self-deception lead me into the land of justification and rationalization, the forest of "I'm right!"

I had a drinking dream this week. Unusual? Maybe. They are definitely less frequent than in earlier years and always contain a component of recovery. In this one, I was waiting for someone in a bar and ordered a gin and tonic. As soon as I put the glass to my lips and took a very small sip I thought, 'I should not be doing this" and put it down. I talked with my sponsor and a good friend, wondering if I needed to change my sobriety date since I didn't actually drink it. My sponsor suggested that yes, this was a slip as I talked about the strange mental twist that had me ordering a drink, but upset that she thought I should go from 30-plus years to under 30 days. And then I woke up. 

I've never had a G&T in my life, so it's funny that is what I ordered. I've never done LSD either, though once had a dream of doing so. As I heard early on, "It's alcohol-ism, not alcohol-wasm" and my dreams remind me that the disease is alive and biding its time somewhere in my subconscious. 

As July begins to wind down, I'm thinking of Step 7, the "humbly asked" part. I go in and out of "god" as an entity, but I do believe there are powers in the universe. Am I actually asking someone or something to take action on my behalf, or am I attempting to access my inner wisdom in order to raise awareness of the characteristics that get the way of my usefulness? The latter, I think, bringing me to a choice - same-old, same-old or try something just a wee bit different? Trying something different involves the often elusive "pause." If I think my responses/words/thoughts are automatic, I'm giving away my power of choice. Seems simple in a calm moment, but what about when my spouse's actions trigger me, or the person in front of me on the freeway has the nerve to drive the speed limit, or the neighbors are up late and noisy, or I read the newspaper? Acceptance doesn't mean approval, so how do I want to expend my energy? How do I move from thinking I'm in control to remembering my powerlessness over people, places and things? Again and again, PAUSE. 

 Do you ever have drinking or using dreams? How do you feel about it when you wake up? What could it mean to go deeper with your program and/or spiritual path? How is your relationship with Steps 6 and 7 these days? What about the "pause?"

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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). I will bring copies of the workbook to SUMMERFEST in Eugene in August.

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. 

 

Amends

 My mother has been on my heart lately, as in bursting into tears when I talk about her, or describe the time the disease of addiction whispered to me when I was handling her pain meds near the end of her life. Why now, nearly 13 years later? Her birthday is in February, and the anniversary of her passing in October. Why now? Is her spirit trying to tell me something from beyond, or am I just missing my mom?

Many years ago, in one workshop or another (John Bradshaw or something similar), we were instructed to write a letter to ourselves, perhaps with a question, and then reply while writing with our non-dominant hand, with the theory it would allow us to access a different part of the brain - the feeling rather than thinking section. I decided to try that with my mom, writing a short letter asking if there is anything she wants me to know. I attempted to use my left hand, but I'll tell you, as I've gotten older, whatever skill I had in that department is long gone! My mother had beautiful handwriting, so it didn't feel right to scribble. Returning to my right hand, the message I got (from myself or the great beyond) is that grieving has no calendar and isn't limited to specific dates or anniversaries. Touche, Mom. Instead of trying to figure it out (which I'm often reminded is not one of the Steps), I'll simply enjoy the feeling of nearness, even if it means crying. 

I recently read about something called a "wind phone" - installations around the country where an old rotary dial phone is set up where people can dial their loved ones. The phones aren't connected to anything, and obviously, one isn't actually calling the deceased, but the article described the catharsis of dialing the old number and talking to one's person. Yes, definitely woo-woo, and I intend to do it. I so often get the urge to pick up the phone to call her - why not?  (for local people, it is at the Skyline Memorial Cemetery - in other places, look up Wind Phone for an installation near you).

On another note altogether, when newly sober, I struggled with Steps 8 & 9. Not quite, "Ain't it grand, the wind stopped blowing!" but it really did take some years for my part in fractured relationships to become clear. One of those situations was with a woman who'd been a close part of our friend circle - her boyfriend was my boyfriend's best friend, both of them in Portland from the Middle East. Lots of drama I won't go into, ending with me banishing her from our house (oh the hubris). As I made my first go-through of the Steps, I knew she belonged on the list, though couldn't articulate what I needed to make amends for. I decided to get all dolled up and go to where she worked, waltzing in with recovery as my shield to make amends and show her how great I was doing. Fortunately, I ran it by my sponsor, who said a great big "whoa!" and suggested I might want to reach out to see if this woman was interested or willing to see me. So I wrote a letter, no reply, and followed that with an amends letter. Within a few months, I saw her on the street downtown, and in a moment of spiritual inspiration, decided that the best amends I could make was to leave her alone. I've never seen her since, though a few years ago she showed up in a dream - I was genuinely glad to see her and talked with her about the absolute insanity of our past. 

Fast forward to this weekend when in reading the local Sunday paper obituaries, I saw that her younger brother has died. I didn't know him, but recognized the names of the two older siblings, each bartenders at clubs we frequented. Seeing her name in print was a definite jolt, and I must admit that one of my first thoughts was to go to the memorial being held at a local event park. Of course, I won't - how weird would it be to show up, not knowing the brother, solely to see her after 45 years? But, the thought was there. I need to acknowledge that my name hasn't changed and I'm not that hard to find, so will settle into the fact that this still isn't a door that needs to be opened.

A door that doesn't need to be opened, and I have been engaged in a bit of morbid reflection on the selfish, self-centered and entitled person I was back then, and how my actions hurt those I cared about. As I've often said, I cannot un-cheat, un-steal, un-lie but I can live in such a way today that I never hurt anyone in the same way again. I'm glad I haven't totally forgotten the pain of those memories. 

Sometimes amending relationships means staying away, despite my desire for some sort of closure or connection. Working the Steps isn't always neat and tidy. Sometimes Step work is messy or feels incomplete, though that's usually because I'm trying to repair history from my present vantage point. While I don't believe in a higher power pulling strings or arranging the furniture, I do believe that letting go of the illusion of control allows nature to take its course, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly and sometimes not in any way I might've imagined. 

I recently read that the last words of Michelle Obama's mother were, "Wow. This went fast." I shared this with one of my closest friends, and we almost cried in recognition. Wasn't it just last year that we met on your 18th birthday, that we watched the fellas play tennis, danced in the living room? Wasn't it just last week that you drove my mom to family days at treatment, when she asked you, "Do you think she'll make it?" and you said, "Of course she will." Wow. This went fast, and here we are, here I am, 70 years old, with a whole lotta life-on-life's-terms under my belt, and, I'll assume, more on the way until there isn't.

What kind of relationship do you have to your deceased loved ones? How about your relationship to any amends situations that might feel incomplete? How might you experience a sense of closure if you can't see the person, either by their choice, or maybe they've died?  At the end of it all, what would you hope your final words to be? As an exercise in treatment, we'd have clients write their own obituary, focusing on accomplishments and regrets. What might yours say?

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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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. 

Here and Now

 I'm re-reading The Grace in Aging, by Kathleen Dowling Singh, seeing if the pages I marked when I was 60 are still relevant today. Not always, but sometimes when I read spiritual or self-help-ish books, I need to remind myself that I have the benefit of the 12 Steps and years of inventory - much to learn, yes, and I'm not starting from zero.

What did jump out at me was the question, "What is the most meaningful use of this time in my life?" as we, as I, move closer to death. I didn't have children, and my stepdaughter has indicated (at this point anyway) that we may not become grandparents. One of the developmental tasks of later adulthood, besides getting comfortable with loss and grieving, is the whole piece about legacy, which for many has to do with passing on the DNA. (The whole topic of how milestones and markers of adulthood are different for those of us who didn't reproduce was what prompted my Master's thesis).  

I have a small following for this blog, the workbook and my novel, but nothing that will likely be remembered years from now, and isn't that ok? Might the whole idea of leaving a legacy be largely that of the ego, the desire to not be forgotten? My charming brother, when we spoke of not having kids, reminded me that in a generation or two, offspring or not, we'll merely be a photo in an album - "Now what was her name?"

And so what about the here and now? What is the most meaningful us of my time today? Years ago, a friend said that one could do good without being a "do-gooder" (she turned her helper-gene toward our local community radio station). Our program encourages service, which these days I read as at group level (or higher, if that's your thing) but also in the greater world. And, lessons I take from Alanon have to do with not over-extending, not saying "yes" when "no" might be more appropriate, being mindful of balance. 

What if my "legacy" is related to leaving a tidy, decluttered house for whoever has to clean up after me? That's something my mother worried about, and boy, was there some cleaning up to do after 50 years in the same house. I was grateful for the boxes of letters and old photos, to a point, and could see where I got the tendency to stockpile paper products. Not much keeps me up at night, but I do shudder to think that if something happened to both my spouse and myself, said unsentimental brother would hire a dumpster for all those items big and small that might mean something personally, but not really to anyone else. 

Something else Singh reminds me of is that "the moment that changed everything" usually arrives unannounced. I'm thinking of an AA guy, Ronnie, who died a few years ago in an auto accident; another friend whose adult child died suddenly; my husband getting a cancer diagnosis the day after our annual holiday party several years ago... I heard in a meeting long, long ago, "Always be on guard for the unguarded moment." Not walking around with fists clenched and my doctor's office on speed dial, but more about getting/staying centered so that when the unexpected happens, I can return to balance without too much flailing about. 

We had a pleasant enough time at the International, hitting several off-schedule meetings, upset that I couldn't get into a room that had filled up, time with friends from near and far, a chance to practice the principles in the crowd and when my HALTs were out of whack (sometimes gracefully and sometimes not). I loved the Old-Timers meeting - all 12 with over 50 years sober Their shares have me questioning my own dedication. Am I dialing it in, or actively participating? It's one thing to cut myself some slack; another to rest on my laurels. Going back to the "What's the best use of my time" question, who do I want to be in this world as I approach 40 years (!) sobriety?  More will be revealed as I reached out to a potential AA sponsor, and connected with an Alanon newcomer (dual member) this week. Funny, how putting something out to the Universe so often results in a specific reply, not always on my schedule, but the answers are there if I wait, and pay attention.

What is the most meaningful use of your time, right now, today, or in this phase of your life? Are you living your values? What do you think of as your legacy? When you slow down and listen for the still, small voice, what is your inner wisdom telling you?

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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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. 

A day early...

 I'm posting a day early this week, as we're heading up to Vancouver, BC for the AA International Convention. I've been to every once since getting sober: Seattle 1990, San Diego 1995, Minneapolis 2000, Toronto 2005, San Antonio 2010 and Atlanta 2015. Like so many of us, I was ready for Detroit in 2020, but the pandemic had other ideas. My husband and I did visit Intergroup there in 2022 and have the t-shirt to prove it!

We hope to see friends in Vancouver that we usually just see on Zoom. I think it was in Minneapolis where one of the long-timers shared that what kept him coming back was "the love-vibe of the people." I relate to the joy I see on fellow attendee's faces as we make our way through various cities over the years, standing in long lines for coffee, holding hands for the Serenity Prayer with 40-60,000 of my peers. Talk about an infusion! I look forward to workshops and speaker meetings, both AA and Alanon, and simply soaking up the positive energy.

I'm at one of those lulls where I'm evaluating my meeting schedule and life in general, as in what is feeding me and what isn't. I can be very habitual, which isn't a bad thing when related to program, but when I start to feel an internal groan about a particular group, whether related to content or even the drive there, I know it's time to perhaps mix it up, or to take a look at my expectations. Am I looking at what I receive, or what I can pack into the stream of life? For me, meetings need to be a bit of both.  Conferences can be good in that way - a chance to soak in program (and put principles to work with big crowds) and reignite my passion, ODAT.

So, safe travels to all who'll convene in Vancouver, whether you're coming by plane, train or automobile. Hope to see you there! Hope to see you there, and I do understand that conferences are something of a niche within AA. Some like them, some don't. I'm grateful for the "all inclusive" aspect of our 12-Step programs, as in "take what you like and leave the rest."

A friend recently sent me the huge volume, The Writing of the Big Book."  I'm slowly wading my way through, some a bit dry, but some fascinating, especially in the context of there being not much other than lobotomy and the ice bath cure before AA.  It is interesting to read that as the book was being written, Bill W. felt that a person needed a spiritual experience in order to get sober, while Hank P. just as firmly believed that it was sobriety and changed behavior that led to a Higher Power. I used to wonder about that - did "god" bring me to AA, or did AA bring me to "god," back when I wanted to put god in a box of a firm definition. I've always loved my friend's definition of "god as I don't understand it." Indeed. If I could understand the powers in the universe, I would need them. I will say that my ideas about a higher power have shifted and changed many times over the years, and today I'm less inclined to worry about the particulars. To me, HP shows up in the warmth of people in meetings, or the smile shared with a fellow walker on my route, the small acts of kindness I see in my own life or read about in the news (I try to steer myself to positive reports rather than the doom and gloom that sells). As I've read in one publication or another, "God is a feeling, not a thing." 

Whether you're a conference go-er or not, how do you experience the "love vibe of the people" you meet in AA or in the greater world? How do you re-evaluate when life or program feels a bit stale? How would you describe your higher power today, if you were to describe it at all?

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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. Note that I will have a supply with me at the Convention in Vancouver, BC this week

Life on life's terms

 I just spent a few days in Chicago with my good friends and travel buddies, once more recognizing what a gift it is to have compatible travel companions with similar interests, endurance and tastes in coffee and food. Until we meet again...

In the "small world" connections department, I learned while away about a friend whose dementia has increased to the point that she requires 24/7 care. Both her mother and a sister had Alzheimer's, so for years she worried about her own trajectory, and here she is. The only solace, for me, is that she has caring family looking out for her, and before the disease took hold, she had a rich and active life. She and I traveled to China, Ireland, Paris and NYC with other friends, participated in biking weekends and hiking adventures, and countless AA meetings and gatherings. I have no idea if those memories are still with her, but they are with me, and I'll always think of her quirky spirit and sense of humor. And here is yet one more reminder that you just never know.

While away I had a bit of traveler's tummy, so opened up "Pocket Pepto" Bismol (which used to be my morning beverage in the drinking days!). One of the uses is for "upset stomach due to overindulgence in food and drink." Bingo. Why is it so darned easy to "overindulge" while away from home? Well, lack of a kitchen for one, and, for me, a bit of peer pressure/peer enjoyment - I rarely eat ice cream at home, for example. Apparently I'm not alone. A medical email I get regularly just listed "15 healthy foods to eat after a binge." Geez-Louise. Our culture seems to both encourage and chastise over-doing it, at least in the food department, which can be tough for those of us with addictive personalities (as well as slowing metabolisms). And, here I am back home to my usual routines, once more seeing how I only "cheat" on myself when I throw caution to the wind.

The notation of "overindulgence" did make me think of the places where I do, or might, over-do, whether with food or caffeine, television (though I'm not much of a binge watcher), obsessive thinking, staying up later than is good for me... The whole deal about recovery is reining in those "instincts gone awry," which can and have been a problem well into sobriety. One day at a time, I can evaluate my choices, knowing that sometimes, ice cream or cupcakes enjoyed with friends on vacation is a very OK decision, while most time, a piece of fruit serves me better.

Beings as it is June, I've been thinking about Step 6 and those pesky characteristics that can put a wedge between me and others, especially the self-centered fear that triggers my anxiety and attempts to control. At this stage, the effort to control people, places or things is often more subtle than overt, but it's definitely there. How do I continue my attempts to pause, even if I don't necessarily feel agitated or doubtful? How about simply "pause" as a way of being? I used to joke that I should have "pause" tattooed on my inner forearm as a reminder. Do I really need a visual cue, or can I utilize self-discipline? I often hear "Listen to your heart" or "Pay attention to your gut," which implies being quiet enough to hear the still, small voice, which doesn't always happen at the split second I'm being challenged to choose a thoughtful response. I'm not blaring through life like a bumper car, but there are places I can take a look at myself and my behaviors, which is the whole point of Steps 6,7 and 10. I'm so glad that recovery is an ongoing process, and thus I say, "Onward!"

Are there places you overindulge that would be better served by restraint? How do you practice self-discipline without being rigid? How do you apply Step 6 and 7 in your life as a person with long-term recovery?

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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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

 

What do I truly want?

 I just read a book review that started with "What do I truly want?", a guide for those who might be in jobs or relationships that don't make their heart sing, or otherwise feel at a stalemate. What do I truly want? What indeed?

I want peace on earth, goodwill towards all living creatures. I want the US government to make good on treaties signed with Native American peoples under duress. I want to feel proud of my country, my state, my city. I want to know that differences of opinion about our country, our state, or our city doesn't mean we can't be friends or have civil conversations. I want everyone, everywhere to be able to go to sleep at night without fear and with a full belly. I want glaciers to stop melting. I want business and political leaders to put people and planet before profits.

I want our zucchini plants to produce this year (why am I the only person I know who can't grow zucchini?!). I want the new neighbors across the street to be friendly and the young people next door to be quiet at night. I want my baby brother to get some sort of cosmic gold star for being so loyal to his wife as her dementia worsens. I want all those I drive to their radiation and chemo appointments to sail through treatment with positive outcomes. I want the laundry to fold itself. I want my parents to know that I love them and I'm sorry that in the years of "recovery/discovery" I blamed them for my today's woes. 

I want to live to be a healthy 100, ODAT. I want to grow old with my spouse. I want my stepdaughter's dreams to come true, even the ones she doesn't know yet. I want the new woman in our meeting this week to keep coming back, to catch the fire that is recovery. I want to see the world - not all of it, but those places that whisper to me, especially those that say, "Please come back."

I want to be consistently confident in my abilities - to navigate in new cities and countries, to know when to speak and when to not. How to both enjoy the ice cream and say "no" to food I that doesn't actually feed me. I want to go to sleep at night knowing I did my reasonable best, whether that was out and about, or reading an engaging book, and if I didn't do my best, that I made amends where needed. And at the end of it all, I want to rest easy, knowing I fully participated in my life.

This list shifts and changes over time, sometimes day-to-day, but I want to stay tuned to my joy-meter - what makes my heart sing. Obviously, not every task or every situation calls for bells ringing, but on the whole, I seek contentment and the ability to pay attention when that feels missing.

Something I've realized this past week is that I haven't yet connected to being 70. Someone was saying, "My 30's were great," to which I added, "The 40's and 50's were good too. So are the 60's," catching myself on the "are" great vs "were" great. I am no longer in my 60's and that reality hasn't quite caught up to my psyche. But then again, what is "70" supposed to feel like (or 50's or 60's for that matter)? My mother at 70 seemed old. while my father-in-law in his 80's seemed young. Does it really matter how I feel about my age? I certainly don't fight it. I'm semi-amused at having grown old, though I've been told I don't act my age (again, whatever that means). ODAT I can focus on the here and now, releasing labels and "should's" as I go along. Sure, I've got a bit of arthritis in my hands, and yeah, my knees are sometimes creaky, but I'm of the "use it or lose it" mindset, so I'll keep using it until I can't anymore.

Along those lines, I'm on a quick adventure to Chicago with my travel buddies - a baseball game (Go Cubs!) and the Institute of Art on the docket, exploring a city I haven't been to in decades, with someone who grew up there. This week marks the 5th anniversary of retirement. Will my months and years always be filled with travel? Probably not, but this year I'm enjoying the heck out of it. And while too often these days it feels like the world is going crazy, I do my best to take a deep breath and be part of the solution where I may.

What is on your list, today, of "What I truly want..."?  What makes your heart sing in the here-and-now? If you're retired, is it turning out how you'd hoped? If working, what do you look forward to in your retirement years? Does your inner life match your physical age? How has it felt to hit those milestone years?

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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. Note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

To thine own self, be true

 I attended a thought-provoking meeting last week, on the topic of "To thine own self be true," a quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet that has been adopted and printed on many AA anniversary medallions. The full quote ends with "And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." So, honesty with myself, first and foremost, and if I'm honest with myself, I can't very well be dishonest with you - if I want to sleep at night.

Neither my spouse or I shared in the meeting, so we had our own "meeting after the meeting," discussing what was triggered for us. Like several in the group, I had no idea what "self" I was to be true to when I first got sober. Many years prior, the meth cook boyfriend had described me as practical. I am very practical, but at the time, hearing that felt foreign. I had little connection to my own spirit. I may have thought I was being true to myself, doing what I wanted when I wanted, but in reality, I was blowing in the wind. 

Our discussion circled around to "the road gets narrower," thinking that perhaps that's because the path is more clearly defined over time. I no longer have to stop and ask myself whether a certain behavior or action is right or wrong. I often go back to Marieanne Williamson's statement that I get myself in trouble when I allow myself to go unconscious with my motives. That happened a lot before getting sober, and sometimes after, but these days rarely comes up. I know myself today, I trust my gut, and I surround myself with people who live with integrity. 

My spouse, a night owl, has, for several years, worked a modified swing shift, which is in keeping with his internal time clock. This summer, he's going in before dawn, the prize being a three-day weekend. Talk about an adjustment, much easier for this early bird than for him. The other day, I'd walked to and from the gym, watered the garden, fixed breakfast, and checked email- all before 8am. I think about the decades I got up at 4:15am in order to run 4-5 miles before work. It took a while after retiring to learn to sleep in just a bit, and that it's OK to wait until the sun is up before walking. It's been 5 years ago this week that I left my job, and I don't regret a second of it. Bored? Never. When did I have time to work?!  But I'm thinking of flexibility during this time of household transition, and how grateful I am, now and always, for the tools of Honesty, Open-mindedness and Willingness (and naps!) 

Speaking of program tools, yesterday was Founder's Day, counted as Dr. Bob's sober date. I am forever grateful for this chance meeting that might've gone any other way if Bob had said "No!" to the proposed conversation with a stranger, or if no one had answered the phone when Bill called looking for someone to work with in order to avoid the temptation of the hotel bar. Chance encounters, random conversations, a left turn or right - it goes back to those monumental situations or events I wrote about last week. This one was definitely monumental, for me and countless others.

Genius musician Sly Stone died this week, he of the soundtrack of my life. He struggled mightily with addiction - oh how terrible the 70's and 80's were for those of us with the disease of addiction, especially those with vast sums of money and lackeys at their beck and call. I was so very happy to read in his autobiography that he'd been clean and sober the last 8-plus years. I was always told, "where there's life, there's hope," meaning it's never too late to find recovery. And as I watch icons and idols age and die, I am grateful for how their talents enriched my life.   

What does "To thine own self be true" mean to you? How has honesty with self and others become part of your life? How do you react or respond to change, whether your choice or imposed?

* * * * * * *

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. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

Goodbyes...

 This past week, our monthly Cabal gathered to honor the memory of our friend who'd recently passed, sharing sweet memories with his sister. It is sort of a fluke that I even met his sister, having connected with her Instagram profile without knowing who she was, then seeing her notice of our friend's death. There was no formal service - a lot of water had passed under that bridge - but it felt right to sit in our sacred circle and share stories of laughter and love. We all expressed gratitude for the sense of closure it brought.

My dear father, very much an introvert, specifically did not want any kind of gathering or service when he died, and unfortunately, we followed his wishes. Unfortunately, because we had no formal avenue to process our feelings or for his friends to process theirs (other than me in therapy, three years later). This was before hospice became a thing, so there was just Mom and me and our tears, and my brother closing himself off, and me, drinking myself into a stupor.

Rites and rituals around death are not for the dearly departed. There is a reason all cultures in all times have ceremonies and processes around death. Some may seem minimalistic and some over the top, but we humans crave a way to say "goodbye." In the old days, part of the ritual was spending time with the body, evidence that this person is no longer in their mortal shell. These days, with death having become a business, and so many choosing cremation, that piece has shifted, though I will say that it was good and right that we sat with my mother's body, in her bed, before she was taken away. There was some sort of psychic shift that took place, recognizing that whatever energy it was that made her my mother was no longer there. 

But back to my friend - it felt good to share funny stories from early sobriety, the dances and warm hugs and deep conversations, and for his sister to hear how much he meant to us. To my friends and family who say they don't want "anything" when they die, I say "Fie to you!" You'll be gone, and if your belief that there is nothing afterwards is true, you won't know one way or the other. 

Over the weekend, our bi-monthly cousin's brunch gathered, our first since the eldest of one family passed last month, and included a couple of folks who don't usually attend. So yes, get together to grieve when I'm gone, but more importantly, let's spend time while we're all still here. I don't always say, "I love you," to those that I do, but "Please, join us," or "It's so good to see you," or "Here, sit next to me," all suffice. It felt good to raise a toast to all those not there, including all our parents and too many siblings, each one contributing in some way to who we are today.

And so the beat goes on, as summer approaches. Our neighbor/friends across the street are moving, with an anticipated closing of the house sale at the end of the month (with me being encouraged to pick berries in their backyard in the meantime). A couple of friends and I will go for a walk in the woods tomorrow, before I meet with my grade school pals for our monthly date. And...drumroll... today is the 14th anniversary of our wedding! I look at those photos, making note of the few who are no longer with us, as well as how our social life has changed with covid, retirement, and the passage of time. As I told someone soon after our vows, marriage is way more fun than I'd anticipated. Being older, and having program as our base, makes all the difference - one day at a time.

Have you thought ahead to what you'd like to happen after you die? Does anyone else know your wishes? Thinking of friends and/or family that you may see only occasionally, is there anyone who'd benefit from knowing what they mean to you? How do you envision your summer unfolding (or winter, if you're in the southern hemisphere)?

* * * * * * *

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. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

Monumental?

 First of all, huge apologies to those of you who've been leaving comments on these posts. My gmail account hides those comments in a different email folder from regular mail. Sigh. Now that I know where to look, I say, "Thank you," and "Sorry." I truly appreciate the interactions, no matter how untimely I've been!

So after attempting to process my post-Camino feelings, someone recommended a book called, appropriately, Returning from Camino, which I purchased, along with a journal with prompts. When in doubt, ask others for their advice and input, and then heed it! What the book suggests is that coming home is as much a part of the Camino as leaving, and to be gentle with oneself as I reacclimate to the day-to-day.

The journal is good. I've been spending time with it daily, while the experience is still fresh in my mind and heart. One thing it has asked in a couple of different ways is "What was a monumental experience?" I have several answers for that, including my friend's injury as well as my entering the cathedral square. The question made me think of my life in general - what has been monumental? (Maybe more accurately would be what hasn't been monumental!)

My father's death at age 56 from tobacco related cancer was monumental, taking years to process. Visiting the pyramids in Egypt was monumental. Meeting the meth cook and the resulting hitting rock bottom was monumental, as was crossing the threshold into treatment and recovery. The pain of break-up(s) felt monumental, leading to walking down the aisle with a good man.

What struck me, of course, is that "monumental" can be either a negative or a positive with the definition of "large, impressive in extent...marking a turning point or a major accomplishment." I don't think that we AA's and Alanons have a market on life-changing experiences, but we are definitely able to define a "before" and "after," for events that changed the course of our lives. 

I don't want to use the word lightly, however. Yes, the Camino was a wonderful experience, "and" in the grand scheme of things, I don't feel like I've changed like some foretold, as in, "You won't be the same," or "The Camino will change your life."  I made some new friends and solidified an inner strength I may have doubted, as well as forging a new relationship to "trust the process," and my life doesn't need changing, unlike those I met who walked seeking discernment regarding career or relationship issues.

I do have to chuckle at myself with the "trust the process," something I've struggled with since first coming into recovery. Here I am, 70 years old, 39-plus years sober, and I still have moments of questioning. I can chastise myself with, "This again?!" or can recognize that each time my old fears and desire to control gets triggered, I move a little closer to acceptance and letting go. 

While listening to the oldies station in the car this week, "the" song played, the one of wishful thinking that the cute boy would ask me to dance in 7th grade. I found myself a bit teary for the girl who, so young, looked outside myself for something to make me feel better on the inside. The cute boy, the perfect outfit, the correct weight or right makeup... definitely a product of my generation and my upbringing. I know, I know - if I'd known better, I would've done better. I just wish I'd known better a bit sooner. And, as a old(er) woman, I can give thanks for all that has brought me to this moment of relative peace - chasing a crush, saying "yes" when "no" might've been a better choice, turning left when I should've turned right... As the old t-shirt said, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood," which depends on my perspective. I can focus on the fun and freedom I enjoyed as a kid, or on the lack of direction and supervision. I can look at various choices as steppingstones, or roadblocks. I can remember that right here, right now, all is more than ok.

What stands out as monumental in your life, either before or after recovery? Has your relationship to your story changed over time?  What are events you may have viewed as tragic that you now see as gifts?

* * * * * * *

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. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

settling in...

 Each day back I feel more and more tethered to home, but jet lag is real (!) and as my first sponsor used to tell me, "Re-entry is tough," encouraging me to give myself the space to reacclimate after a trip, big or small. I've been home now one week, tripping just a bit thinking about walking through quaint villages and rainy eucalyptus forests and now I'm at the grocery store. Did I leave some of my spirit on the Camino? Maybe, and I do hope I brought some Camino spirit with me - the energy of "go with the flow," "surrender to the moment," and most important, "one day at a time."

ODAT seemed both obvious and out of reach when I first came into the rooms, with future tripping a special skill that has been hard to release. The longer I'm in recovery, the more real "we just have today" gets - we really, truly just have the moment in front of us, and like I learned with my friend's injury, reality can turn on a dime. 

Attending my regular walking group over the weekend, it hit me that my mojo was gone. I was feeling a bit flat. After a year of hyper-focus on preparation - emotional, physical, material - being done has me a bit empty. Mentioning that to my adopted crew, most of who are younger, two said, "That just means you need to start planning your next adventure!" Sure, and jumping right into something else when I'm barely done with this thing feels like old behavior. Maybe, just maybe, I need to hold still and allow lessons from the Camino to arise in their own time.

A friend and I have often talked about the time delay between outer circumstance and inner feelings. Someone dies, a job ends unexpectedly, one moves, or a good friend does, retirement. My psyche tends to hold on to the former reality while I acclimate to a situation. It seems to be about letting go - to old ideas, including my desire for consistency, as well as relaxing into the present. For me, today, that means acknowledging the big deal of covering 160 miles in 12 days as well as putting pen to paper regarding what came up during the contemplative stretches of the walk. 

One of my old ideas, rooted in experience, is that I don't have a good sense of direction. That has proven to be true, though here I sit at my desk, never having gotten so lost I didn't get home, but how much of that belief is actually true and how much feeds a self-defeating fear? What I learned on the Camino is that I could utilize tools (talking with English speaking teenagers, taking a photo of the streetcorner where I need to turn to get back to my hotel, asking for help) whereas in my drinking days I might've just stayed in rather than brave the unknown. I also drew on tried and true recovery skills, as in leaving a group dinner early as the wine and liquor flowed and making sure I kept hold of my water glass lest it be topped off with white wine. I never felt particularly uncomfortable around alcohol, but mindful and aware of my surroundings, grateful for years of practice.

So, last week I was there and this week I'm here, and "wherever you go, there you are." I am aware of and grateful for the privilege that lets me go off on a grand adventure, and incredibly grateful, always, that I didn't die at the end of a syringe or behind the wheel while drunk. As I settle back into my life of relative simplicity, I am aware of the sweetness of neighborhood spring blooms, our cats' purrs, dinner with my dear spouse, my regular meetings. Life is good.

Has the truth of ODAT shifted for you over your years of sobriety? What gifts might you be taking for granted if you don't stop to notice? If you are experiencing any sort of transition, how do you allow your emotions to catch up with the new reality? What old ideas continue to pop up for you? Are they real, or a habit?

* * * * * * *

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.

in transit

As i started this entry, I was in the airport in Lisbon on my way to see good friends before the final leg home, drinking my 1st Starbucks in over 2 weeks. The coffee was too strong and the cookie slightly stale, but it felt like home, which really is one of my favorite parts of going away. 

I was told, " the Camino will carry you," and that was certainly true as I got up day after day to pound out 8, 13 or 15 miles.  But I will say that I was tired the final 2 days, facing each steep hill with, "Really?!" When I was getting the MRI at the beginning of my breast cancer diagnosis,  I was given a painted rock that says, "You are stronger than you think." It proved true then in the emotional department,  and true physically these last 2 weeks, much of which consisted of technical paths (steep, rocky, wet with rain). One foot in front of the other, stopping to catch my breath as needed.

No one ever did recognize the AA patch on my backpack, though near the end of the journey,  one of my new companions asked why I don't drink. I gave the very condensed version of my story, only to learn that her father and uncle died as the result of alcoholism.  We are everywhere,  directly or indirectly, in recovery or far from it. 

I'm not sure of your experience,  but once learning I'm sober, people ask if I'm bothered that they order a drink. I can appreciate their sensitivity,  but no. I truly have reached that place of neutrality, at least for today. And I do understand that lifting of the compulsion is a gift denied many. 

Stopping in DC to visit good friends,  I also had the opportunity to connect with a couple of other friends from my online groups and to attend an in-person meeting. I love connections over the years and over the miles. I went to treatment to get the heat off and stop hurting, with absolutely no idea that I'd end up with lifelong friends, an education, a career I enjoyed, a strong marriage - essentially the "keys of the kingdom."

And now, re-entry, as I do my best to remain mindful of Camino energy, taking each day as it comes. I see some inventory in my future as I further process all that occurred these past few weeks, continuing to ask myself, "Are you a tourist or a pilgrim?" 

How would describe the gifts of recovery,  your keys of the kingdom? Have there been times that "You are stronger than you think" has played out in your life? How do the tools of recovery help you remember that?

flexibility

Here I am with now two more days of walking followed by three nights in Santiago before heading back to the US. It has definitely been an adventure of putting one foot in front of the other with some fun and inspiring conversations along the way with people I will likely never see again. I am grateful for this common bond, however temporary.

I am the kind of person who likes to know the lessons of life while I am still in the middle of class. Years ago, when applying for my Master's program, the advisor said that many schools will give you a set plan but their idea was to give the individual a map to find our own way. That is kind of like the Camino, although we do have specific instructions which may or may not be factual, as a couple of times we've ended up on a tougher, hillier path than expected. Oh well, here we are today. Before leaving home, I realized part of my lessons had to do with trust, as in trust myself, and trust the planning. Along the way,  I've come to understand my state of mind is about surrendering to the moment, whether raining or hot, power outage or hungry - whatever the day may bring. For me, also, a lesson has been around flexibility. On Saturday,  with a long 18 miler planned and rain in the forecast, we decided to skip the walk and take transport to the next town. A friend asked, "Isn't that cheating?" but it really is "your Camino,  your way." There is a requirement that one must walk the last 100 km into Santiago to earn the official completion certificate, and that is the plan, one step at a time. 

We plan, and the gods laugh, with my companion falling over the weekend, cutting their Camino short. One just never knows. I have now had a ride in the back of an ambulance for the 1st time, and have seen the workings of a Spanish ER, grateful for kindness and good care. The gods laugh, indeed as this turn of events was certainly not anticipated. 

And the beat goes on. After discussion, it was decided I would carry on, completing in spirit for both of us. Me, who loves adventure but rarely, rarely travels alone, now on my own, fears of getting lost swirling in my brain. But, as Mr Rogers would've said, "Look for the helpers." A conversation at breakfast resulted in my being invited to tag along with a group of delightful folks from around the globe, and so, I carry on. 

One of my new friends suggests setting a word of intention for the day.  Yesterday I chose "bravery." She pointed out that bravery is on the continuum with fear - if I didn't have fear, there'd be no need to be brave. Today my intention was "endurance."

And so, I've walked up very steep coastal hills and wooded paths with new friends,  and have wandered in cities on my own for laundry and food, facing my fear of getting lost. And wouldn't you know it, even with Google maps, I did get lost (darned round-abouts) and a very kind senora walked me to my hotel with a pilgrim blessing. Helpers abound.

People on the Way aren't necessarily talking about their reasons for walking,  but the underlying question is, "Am I a tourist or a pilgrim?" A little of both, I'd say, as I've thoroughly enjoyed the sights as well as appreciating contemplative moments. So, my life lessons this week have been around trust, always, and about asking for and accepting help. Onward!

How hard or easy is it for you to ask for help? Do you recognize helpers when they appear? How do you integrate your spiritual life with the everyday, and are they actually separate?

on the path

After a couple of days to acclimate, we started walking on Monday, 11 days, 160 miles to Santiago de Compostela.

In talking with someone before leaving home, they shared their story of traveling with an AA symbol on their backpack, and all the fun and meaningful conversations it prompted along the way. So, I did the same, not at all shy about my recovery, knowing that, too, is a gift of long-term sobriety. (When I shared my plan with a newcomer, she was thinking that AA is something to hide. Not anymore, if it ever was for me). 

So, staying in the moment, literally one foot in front of the other, with the only concern of the day is where and what to eat, following the route markers, As much as I truly love my domestic life of home and hearth, I've been looking forward to this extended, walking retreat. I don't do that often enough - take time away from the daily routines. My spouse and I are conference go-ers, but I'm more thinking of time in nature, with blocks set aside for solitude. Of course, I could do that at home, but there is something to be said for intentionally taking an official break.

As of today no one has noticed or commented on the 12-step patch on my backpack, but I am having conversations with lots of people along the way. Whether English speaking or not we are on the same path.

And as we've read,  "Lack of power, that was our dilemma" as we were caught in the several nations power outage on Monday. It didn't impact us too much (no elevator at the day's hotel) and people were in good humor. We were all in it together, and such an example of not being in control. 

A very soggy walk today, yet another reminder to surrender to the moment (& grateful for all my running and walking in rainy Portland). So, Onward, odat!

Where has powerlessness shown up in your life this week? How do you put one foot in front of the other,  on the easy path or the tougher?

I'm walking here...

Rumi says, "As you start to walk on the way, the way appears."  Clarity doesn't come before action. It comes from action.

I've needed that message recently - the ongoing effort to stay in the moment. I leave this week to walk the Portuguese Coastal Route of the Camino de Santiago, a grand adventure and spiritual quest. I feel physically ready, with LOTS of walking under my belt these past few months, and am being conscious of being spiritually ready to walk through (literally) whatever the path may bring, knowing that there may be tears and there may be joy, frustrations and elations, literally one step at a time.

My prep included talking with two program friends who've recently completed the same trek, as well as following a social media group of women getting ready to set out. with a lot of attention in that group on what to carry, down to minutia of travel size shampoo, etc. My friends had some welcome advice and suggestions, but as one of the social network people wrote, "Just walk." I probably won't get lost on a marked path, and if I do, "Oh well" I can reset (heck, I get lost when walking in my own city, so I'm very accustomed to "Did I miss the turn?") 

And while it seems like every third person I've talked to has either done it, or knows someone who has, I will have my own experience. Kind of like early recovery when the old-timers would say, "You're right where you're supposed to be," sharing markers for 30, 60, 90 days and beyond. There are markers and maps for this phase of my spiritual development, and... I will know what I need to know, when I need to know it.

Somewhere in the last few months, someone posted on the Camino site that they'd realized the journey had already started while putting in the miles at home, thinking about their "why." Years ago, I heard circuit speaker, Pat Y, talk about her Camino, and that after all her preparation, she got there and took a nasty spill three or four days in, so couldn't finish. I asked about feeling disappointed, but she said, "No, not really," recognizing that the planning and preparation was her journey. I get that, especially when starting from zero, working up to six to eighteen miles per day. And, I can stay mindful of not getting cocky, Ms Marathon runner/walker that I am, or rather was, emphasis on "was." Like sobriety, my fitness (physical or spiritual) today isn't based on what I did five or ten years ago, but on what I am doing today. 

And so, off we go, a friend and I, into the wild, blue yonder. My intention is to post while away, though perhaps short and sweet. In any event, I will carry you in my heart. Please keep me in yours. 

How would you describe your current path? How might you undertake a spiritual quest, on an actual journey or in your own backyard?

*Note that sales of the Now What workbook are on temporary hold until I return home

Spiritual awareness

In a recent meeting, I found myself a little teary as the lead spoke to wanting a spiritual experience. Me too, as I think of my upcoming grand adventure, while realizing I can't simply conjure up an" ah-ha" moment. As I walked home from the group, through a gloriously blooming old Portland neighborhood, resplendent with crimson rhododendrons, tulips of all colors, lilacs and more, I realized this is the spiritual experience.  It's not like "life" is over here on the left and the spiritual experience is here on the right - it's all spiritual, if I but pay attention to the beauty, the smile, the potholes and the mud all around. 

And maybe it's spiritual awareness. I've definitely had moments over the years of the brain-exploding surrender, usually following inventory, tears and mental exhaustion, but maybe, just maybe the conscious contact we're encouraged to pursue is simply paying attention to the moment. I keep repeating that theme because I need to repeat that theme! Will it ever be automatic? Not sure, but that's why I keep coming back.

I believe it was Richard Rohr who wrote, "God comes to you disguised as your life." Always, read that "g" word as whatever the concept does or doesn't mean to you. What I read in that is that life is life, and in reality, there is no separation from the head and the heart (though I may erect internal walls), no difference between "the program" and the "spiritual part." Compartmentalizing was helpful during my working years, doing my best to leave work at work when I left for the day, but isn't necessarily a positive in general. I like to think I present the same in whatever sphere I'm in (though I really need to work on my cussing habit). Is that a gift of long-term sobriety? Of getting older? Maybe.

And I am getting older, though sometimes need reminding. In signing up for an upcoming half-marathon, I hesitated at the line marked "Age" with the weird sensation of not quite knowing what to write. I know I'm not 60, but 70 just didn't feel like the correct number. I joked with the women at the counter that I don't act my age, but I certainly don't feel like what I thought 70 would feel like, carrying around stereotypes of what it means to be old. The discovery continues. 

I attended my former home group a week ago, newly housed at a local club after its long-time home closed at the beginning of the pandemic, and after being online for the duration. Having gotten very comfortable with conveniently rolling into my office and getting online, I don't know that I'll re-up my membership, but it was good to see people in person who I haven't for some time. We've aged. 

We've aged, and the message is the same, whether online, in person, or in something I read (program related or otherwise). I'm noticing that as I've fully settled in to retirement, my daily habits have changed, which is to be expected. For the most part, I feel at peace with life, despite momentary blips of self-centered fears. I'm told that my cousin's last words were, "I'm not afraid to die. I've had a good life. I'm tired of the bullshit." Not sure which bullshit she was referring to (I could start a list), but the "not afraid" and feeling one has had a good life are all I could hope for at the end. When I've told a good friend about someone being near the end of the journey, he's known to say, "I hope they feel they've had a good life." Indeed. My first husband wondered if he shoulda/coulda/woulda experienced more, which makes me sad. As my current spouse's sponsor told him several years before he died, "Don't wait for a diagnosis to take care of yourself." He meant physically, but I'd say emotionally and spiritually as well. 

After my statement about the road getting narrow, a friend pointed out that, yes, the road gets narrower, but the horizons get broader (thanks PB). Exhaling into that image that definitely rings true. Onward!

What comes to mind, or to your heart, with the terms "spiritual experience" or "spiritual awareness?" How might those be different, or the same? What do you hope your last words would be? Do you feel you've had a good life thus far? How are you taking care of yourself, physically, emotionally and/or spiritually?

*Note that the Now What workbook sales are on a break until I return from my trip.