listening...

 Last week I was concerned about getting out of town, while this week I'm grateful the airport mess is over for now, headed to home, sweet home.

I've spent the last week in the glorious southwestern U.S. I couldn't live there, there of weather extremes and little greenery, but what a breath of literal fresh air to visit. The wide-open spaces are not a cliche, and, I think, good for the psyche (just like returning to the mossy PNW is good for my soul).

Visiting Monument Valley,  with a day trip to the amazing Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend,  the line from the Big Book, "Who are you to say there is no God?" came to mind. Whatever one's concept of a higher power is or isn't,  Mother Nature is a power way greater than myself. I'm so very grateful to have experienced these places I hadn't even heard of, and that I have compatible travel companions (truly a gift)

Last week, while walking home after taking my car to the shop, I passed the house I lived in when hitting bottom. I don't get too squirrelly around anniversary times like I used to, but as my sober-versary nears, I do get hit with random memories, especially when walking by the scene of the crime, now an actual lifetime ago.

Whenever I have the opportunity to tell my story, I recognize that any assumption about motives or what I was thinking at the time are pure speculation. I actually did keep a journal back in the day, though for a long time, even lied to myself (lies of omission) by not telling the whole truth in my scribblings (and they were scribbles, especially at the end). What a gift it is to not make choices I need to lie about, to myself or anyone else.

And what a gift of long term recovery to have learned to pay attention to my joy-meter. Several months ago, a proposed trip next summer sounded great. This week,  reality hit, with other travel and household expenses on the docket. I sat with it a bit, and let my friend know I won't be going. There is the plane ticket cancelation to deal with, but I'm at peace with it. Sometimes I say "yes" to something because it sounds interesting,  which is fine, but the bigger YESES are where I want to direct my attention. And, to pace myself. As I've discovered,  if everything is special,  nothing is.

Always, i need to leave space for quiet in order to hear the still, small voice within - usually more a deep knowing than an actual voice. I'm not great at sitting meditation,  but I do find peace in moments of solitude, on my walks or at home. 

It wasn't a still, small voice I heard on the 4 mile event in Monument Valley- more a chant of "keep moving!" on a very challenging hilly, sandy, course. The fun news is that I received a medal for being 2nd (out of 5) in the 70+ age group. Just keep showing up!

Is getting quiet a regular practice for you? How does your still, small voice show up? How is the telling of your story different than it might've been when you were at, say, 90 days or 3 years? What are you saying YES to today?

No whining on the yacht!

 This week I've tried to stay out of obsession-mode, wondering whether or not my flight to meet friends for a vacation (and a run in Monument Valley AZ) would be cancelled. In the grand scheme of things, it's a luxury problem. As with most things, it's been the waiting, the not knowing that's tough.

I'm reminded of a treatment counselor who, when we'd go on about one "what if?" or another would say, "Have you had enough to eat today? Do you know where you're going to sleep tonight?" Well, then, all is well. I loved hearing what a friend said in a meeting this week, that she'd heard in earlier sobriety: No whining on the yacht! Indeed. All of my needs and most of my wants are taken care of today so I can live from a place of gratitude and positivity vs a sense of lack. 

And really, it's the "what if's" that are like spitting into the wind. Are my fears real and tangible, like worrying about hurricanes or floods in certain areas of the country? Well then, assess the situation and take action. Are my worries primarily in my head, based on what I think might happen? Then come on back to the here and now. What is true in this actual moment?

So, assessing the situation, I 've checked out possible train or bus travel (not feasible - way too long), and now know the hotel cancellation policy. I packed my suitcase like I usual and kept an eye on the airline website. My spouse and I attended a friend's potluck, and drove a delightful fellow to his cancer appointment. I made dinners and cleaned the kitchen.  In other words, I put one foot in front of the other. Years ago I read a book, Creative Visualization, by Shakti Gawain, that like most descriptions of affirmations, says that one is to think and affirm that the positive has already happened. Instead of "I hope I get a good job" I'd affirm that "I have work I enjoy." So this week, I've been imagining myself walking my friend's dogs in Taos on Wednesday evening. 

A weekly post I receive, Sermons on the Couch, pointed out that there are a mere eight Sundays to go before we enter 2026. Eight! A few blinks and I'll be cursing the midnight fireworks on New Year's Eve as I've fallen asleep well before the clock turns. A friend once pointed out the number of months she likely has left. If I last as long at my mother, I'd have 180 months (though my intention is aiming for a healthy 100). Sounds odd when it's broken down like that, and we just never know, but time and again I'm reminded that there will be an end to this story. And time and time again, I ask myself, ala Mary Oliver, what is it I want to do with what remains of this wild and precious life?

I enjoy the writing of Alice McDermott, and am just reading Absolution, a novel about an American wife in South Vietnam just before the American War. She, along with a military wife and a couple of soldiers, are trying to do at least a bit of good in a country where there is much poverty. One of the soldiers has a permanently positive attitude, which she describes much like the Big Book talks about the joy in escaping a sinking ship, a sense of wonder and appreciation for this interesting life, despite the sorrow all around. 

On a good day, I'm right there with him, marveling at having recovered from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. It's been so very long now, but not so long that I've forgotten the sense of despair that colored my days. I am grateful for the newcomers in meetings who remind me of what was, but I'm telling you, I have enough vivid memories of my own should I ever be tempted to think, "Maybe it wasn't so bad." Yes, it was - bad and worse and I'm lucky to be alive.

And, after all my worries vs trust this past week, here I sit at the Portland airport, on my merry way. As someone once posted, nothing I've worried about has come true, so apparently worry works! (that's a joke....)

How do you remind yourself that many of your problems are of the luxury variety? What does "No whining on the yacht!" bring to mind? When there are actual troubles in your life, how do you us the principles of the program to assess the situation and take action?

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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. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.

Moving on

 So, good news in the health department this week, and then I got into a fender bender on the way home from the last medical appointment. Totally my fault, though the other driver may have been going more than the posted 20mph, and a big reminder to slow down and pay attention. I don't get into trouble every time I'm in a hurry, but most of the trouble I've been in was when I was in a hurry. 

And it's not like the whole world isn't in a tizzy these days, whichever side of the divide you're on. I can do my best to call on compassion for others as well as myself. Kind of like when I burst into tears when the radiologist told me I'm ok, I don't know what other people may be carrying.

We marked Dios de Los Muertos this weekend, All Saints Day in Christianity, when the veil between this world and the next is thought to be more permeable than usual. We put out photos of our dearly departed, mindful that no one is truly gone as long as someone is here to remember them. So, Mom, Dad, Aunty Jeanne, Clyde, Hassan, Doug, Diane, Jayna - the list goes on as I'm sure yours does as well. I printed out something from the internet about ancestors, as in. "In moments of fear, stress and the unknown, ask your departed ancestors for guidance and support; they have your back." I did that with my medical fears last week, knowing that my female lineage (the men too) are examples of walking through hard times, whether in the world (the Oregon Trail, the Great Depression, WWI and WWII) or the personal of early deaths and diseases. When I allow myself to get still, I can feel the power available to me, releasing the perceived need to figure it all out. 

I attended my last Step Group this past weekend, moving on after 12 years. Though certainly not the case with this particular involvement, it made me think of times I may have stayed in a situation longer than was healthy, whether a relationship or job, or even a meeting. I thought of a time when I first worked in treatment with teens. I often sat in on the young person's session with the psychiatrist, to help them relax just a bit. This particular time, I joined in while the older (50's? 60's?) Jewish psychiatrist from New York sang the Kenny Rogers song, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em" with a teenage boy from the Yakima Nation. I don't remember what it was in reference to - using friends? the gang life? - but the moment is etched in my mind as an excellent example of what we often hear to "meet them where they are." 

So in my process of knowing when to fold 'em, I came to a shift in perspective. Instead of "shoulding" on myself for quitting the Step Group, I decided that what I really was doing was releasing my spot in the group for someone else. This group (or job or friendship, etc) was good while it was good, and now it's time to move on.

I'm seeking another perspective shift in relation to an old idea. A couple of people in the group spoke to their need to slow down, whether in decision making or actions. I felt myself bristle just a tiny bit, knowing that "hurry" is often my M.O. When I was a kid, maybe 10 years old, my dad cautioned me to "Slow down, Jeanine!" as I ran from the bathroom back out to the ball game in the street. For a long time, I thought, "I don't need to slow down - the rest of you need to pick it up!" which usually got nods of recognition from the fellow stimulant addicts in the room. Maybe, just maybe, these days I can reframe the "slow down" to mean acting from serenity vs being chastised. Can I practice the beneficial aspect of slowing down without pathologizing my innate nature? 

Funny thing about those old ideas... for me, they may morph but are essentially the same. Part of the Step Group process was to, each year, identify a new idea to work towards. Wouldn't you know it, most of mine over the years were the same - trust the process, pause, relieve me of the bondage of self. I guess I'll keep coming back. 

What old ideas are still present and could benefit from reframing? How do you listen to the still, small voice to know that it is time to move on from a person, place or thing? As we enter the holiday season, how will you practice extra self-care?

* * * * * *

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. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.