In a discussion of Step One, a friend noted that the admission of powerlessness is a gateway to wonder. What a beautiful image. For me, and perhaps most of us, getting to the point of admitting powerlessness is painful, usually involving hitting my head against the illusion of control, so to reimagine that pain as a portal might get me there sooner, or allow me to simply release the idea of needing to get anywhere!
These days my attempts at control can be subtle, like quietly thinking I have the answers or that I need to figure out someone else's solution - Alanon reminds me that making a suggestion more than once is an effort to have things go my way (Annie Lamott describes helping as the sunny side of control). And my stabs at control are often directed at myself, as in thinking I need to know the answer before I've even asked the question, insisting on my timing (now!) rather than trusting the process. And notice how "thinking" is involved in my gyrations. As I've long heard, I no longer have a drinking problem, but I definitely have a thinking problem.
I'd been feeling a bit off, a little flat, and after my own efforts at excavation kept me going in circles, phoned someone I'd consider a spiritual advisor. Once again, it was the act of asking, of reaching for the kit of spiritual tools referenced in the Big Book, that brought relief (along with the good, orderly direction provided by the friend). And, while I feel back on the beam related to my program, there is still a quiet whisper of, "Now what?" I love being retired, I enjoy my volunteer work with the Cancer Society and my seasonal elections gig, my meetings and related service, friend dates and travel plans, time with my dear spouse (who still works). Nothing is missing, per se, and...
I sometimes wonder if it is my creativity that needs attention, but then I wonder if that is a "should" rather than a "want to." Maybe it's merely the mid-winter doldrums when it's too cold (for me) to get into the woods or go for a bike ride. Maybe I need more friend-time, more time in stimulating conversation, more what, I don't know. And, just maybe I'm trying to think my way out of a spiritual dilemma. Maybe it's surrender to not knowing what's next that is the answer. Maybe Step Two, being restored to sanity, comes from talking with like-minded others, journaling, meditation, dropping the rock of wanting answers right now.
I go back to that list of questions I wrote near the end of the calendar year, especially: What truly matters to me, and how does my life reflect that? And along those lines, what makes my heart sing? What tips the internal joy-meter to the positive? I get a weekly email newsletter from Maria Shriver, and this week she referenced Ron Shaich, the founder of Panera Bread, who does a yearly "Pre-mortem" ritual, what we might consider an inventory, of whether intentions match actions, and how will I feel about how I spent my time on earth when the end is near?
My brother, who is a bit of a curmudgeon (what he'd likely describe himself as a realist) recently commented on the nature of life - how so much of what we do in any given day or week is maintenance: laundry, groceries, feed the animal(s), feed oneself, sleep, rinse and repeat, fit in a couple of TV shows for entertainment, perhaps a walk or conversation, and start all over again the next day with a few vacations in the year, if we're lucky. Or as my favorite quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay says, "It is not true that life is one damn thing after another - it is one damn thing over and over." Frankly, I enjoy a bit of domesticity, stocking the pantry, making a meal to nourish our bodies and our souls, and... once again I ask, "Now what?"
My task is to pay attention, to both my still, small voice - that wisdom within - as well as to conversations and readings and what I hear in meetings. In the meantime, I'll wait for the snow that's been predicted for days now, and make a pot of soup. I'll feed the cats and hit a meeting, and make dinner for my working man. I will practice gratitude, and do my best to stay open to whatever guidance shows up.
Correction: A friend reminded me that "If things were supposed to be any other way, they'd be different," did not come from one of our treatment counselors, but from a homeless fellow my friend saw in meetings during his first few months sober. I love how seemingly random statements or descriptions stay with me over the years, a good reminder that I never know how my own words may impact someone. Especially in the early days, I saw each meeting as a lifeline, hearing something I needed to keep me on the path for another day or another hour. I think of "my" old timers who were so important back then - Leonard C, Norm B, Ila and so many more. Again and again, grateful to be on this path with you, and with those who came before.
What are some recovery nuggets that you've carried with you over the years? What does surrender feel like to you today? Are there areas where you seek guidance, either from within or from a trusted other? If you took a spot-check pre-mortem inventory today, where are you satisfied and what might need some attention?
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Is it time for a new year inventory as we're into 2025?
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.
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