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. 

Be here now

 A friend who winters in a warmer climate got home recently, noting that with packing done, the task at hand was to stay in the moment while awaiting their travel day. Another friend has given notice at work, now in that short-timer place of staying responsible but so wanting to be done, with two other friends on the verge of changing cities. I'm just about ready for my grand adventure, scanning the house for whatever small projects I can use to distract myself until it is time to board a plane. As a writer friend noted, with their own homecoming, "no-longer-there-but-not-yet-here-either." I'd amend that to not-there-yet, but mentally already gone.

Those liminal spaces, whether in between jobs, the ending of a relationship that is on its last legs (admitted or not), the time just after someone dies when it can feel like I, the living one, have one foot in both worlds, taking a trip/not taking a trip...can feel like a case of suspended animation. I'm generally one who prefers to forge ahead, uncomfortable with the feeling of being nowhere, unmoored, waiting., though one of my Alanon readers reminds me that "waiting is an action." 

Being mindful, in the moment, has rarely been my strength, packing for a trip while simultaneously making a To-Do list for my return, thinking about one thing while doing another. This whole one-day-at-a-time thing is a discipline. I suppose that's why it's advised to practice the principles, progress not perfection. Someone recently shared their perspective on living the program rather than working it. I like that. Working the program can make it sound too much like a task to complete, whereas living the principles implies a gentle flow, one day to the next, one decision or one action leading to another. That idea of the road getting narrower as we gain sobriety  used to scare me - I'm afraid of heights, and pictured a narrow, winding mountain road. Maybe the "narrower" could mean that there aren't as many choices - do the right thing or the sketchy one? That really is no longer an issue.

As I was reminded in a recent meeting, when I find myself in a conundrum, around future tripping or otherwise, I can ask myself, "Where is HP in this?" (however you do or don't define that). Am I obsessing when I'd be better served to simply take a breath, or pay attention to the task at hand? I try to do that when out walking, bringing my attention to spring's blossoms when I catch myself having gone several blocks without noticing the world around me. I am a feeler and a thinker. Can I also be an observer?

As I was in the midst of writing this post, I found out that a good friend died, a friend who'd suffered a mental health crisis several years ago and was never able to make it back. Several of us tried to be there for him, but he drifted further and further away. A tragic loss of a really good man.

As I was processing that loss, I got the call that my eldest cousin was dying, and a few hours later, that she was gone, with her two children and one of her sisters at her side. I'm only on the periphery of the inner sanctum, and hadn't known she was physically ill, so this, too, comes as a shock. She was six years older, a chasm when we were kids, but of shrinking importance as we got older, and from my perspective today, at her 76 years old, too young to go. But who am I to say? What I can say, and do say over and over, is that you just never know. 

And so what we do is come together, in small groups, online or on the phone, or with social media as it was meant to be used, to connect and share our grief, with family and friends spread far and wide. I'm feeling a little numb with these two losses, the cousin who remembers our grandmother (I was only 5 when she died), and the friend of AA dance parties and long conversations. Today I can hold sadness and gratitude in the palm of my hand, grief and faith in the cycle of life and death, over and over again. 

How do you live the program principles today? Again and always, how do you bring yourself back to the present moment if you find your thoughts drifting to either the past or the future? When something unexpected happens, how do you take that cosmic breath of acceptance?

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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 folk

One choice at a time

 We're planning to attend the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC this summer, looking forward to seeing friends from around the country as well as those we haven't met yet. I've been to every one since I got sober (Seattle, San Diego, Minneapolis, Toronto, San Antonio, Atlanta), even making a visit to Intergroup in Detroit in 2022, after the covid-cancellation of the 2020 Convention. I think about the excitement of those early trips, stunned by the power of 50,000 reciting the Serenity Prayer together. Sometimes crowds can be a bit much these days, but with a group of AA's and Alanon's, the vibe is definitely more mellow that some large groups I've been in at concerts and the like. I do appreciate and value the coming together, the celebration of lives that maybe wouldn't have continued were it not for getting sober. 

Whenever I hear someone complain about getting older, I remind them that it is a privilege denied many, especially after learning about a recent suicide of a member of our community. Depression is such a dreadful illness. I didn't know the person, except in passing, but I've been hit with the grief of knowing how very, very low someone must feel if the only way out they can see is to end it all. From listening to others who've lost someone that way, and in my years working in the field, it seems that sometimes that decision is a well-thought-out plan, and sometimes spur of the moment, both equally heartbreaking. As I used to hear in meetings, if I kill myself now, I'm killing the wrong person, implying that with perspective and distance, I change. None of which makes a difference now, when the deed is done.  And while this wasn't the case with the current loss, a big "BS" and "shame on you" to the bleeding deacon who tells their sponsee that the Steps will fix everything.

On another note altogether, I was chastised for my "Go with the flow" post last week, by someone who strongly feels that is not the correct response to the current state of the nation. Exhaling, I can see where they're coming from and feel strongly myself that AA/Alanon has no opinion on outside issues, though I myself certainly do. And while these postings are not AA/Alanon, they are my attempts to practice the principles in all my affairs, and to allow you, dear reader, to do the same, whether we have the same political, religious/spiritual, or health related beliefs or not. A friend who thinks differently that I do recently called me in tears because they were afraid of losing a friendship with someone who believes differently. These are challenging times. What I keep reading, and coming back to myself, is the Serenity Prayer and the absolute importance of staying centered, being kind in my sphere, and stepping up where called. I'm loosely reminded of when I worked with teens in a residential program, many of whom were going home to tough situations. We'd help them devise a plan, as in "What will you do to stay safe and sober when all hell breaks loose at home?" I cannot, or rather will not, live in outrage, 14 on a scale of 1-10, which renders me useless. My primary purpose is to stay sober, physically and emotionally, and to be of service, one day, one choice at a time, in the rooms and out. 

How are you of service today, in big ways and in small? Is there someone in your sphere who could use a little extra support this week? How about you? How will you practice self-care 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 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.