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.