A meeting topic last week had to do with ideals, based on a reading from the Big Book, page 70, that says we are sure to drink again if our conduct continues to harm others. This section of the book specifically deals with sex, but the chairperson extrapolated the message to all our behavior in the world - how do we treat our fellow travelers?

This chapter counsels that we should turn to a higher power to shape our ideals. At the beginning of my recovery, that prospect scared me. I had the notion that if I truly practiced Step 3, I'd need to sell all my worldly goods and move to Calcutta to work with Mother Theresa. I had a hard time reconciling what I thought of as "happy, joyous and free" with the underlying notion of earning my way back to full humanity after all the crappy things I'd done. Even now I notice a slight hesitation at the thought of shaping my ideals based on my highest good, as if my highest good would be something negative or punitive. 

What are my ideals? The dictionary definition is "a standard of perfection, a principle to be aimed at." What jumps to mind, of course, is the 12 Steps - our philosophy of unity, recovery and service, being open, honest and willing to both behave in a loving manner today, and to amend and repair where we falter. Am I doing my best to strive towards those principles? I so appreciate the small note in Step 12 (12x12) that describes Step 7 as asking for our defects to be removed based on the condition of the day we ask. Some days I'm able to pause, some days not. I can always try again.

The winter solstice is next week, which coincides with an astrological "great conjunction," where Jupiter and Saturn appear to meet in the sky (happened in 1623, but last visible in 1226). I'm not a huge follower of astrology, but I appreciate the cosmic reminder that life is, that life goes on in the tides, the rain, the seasons, and the planets regardless of what I'm experiencing. In any event, this year's solstice in particular, the day of the conjunction, is a good time to set intention. What does that mean in the time of covid, this altered reality we've been living in for nine months now? It seems that my new year intentions will be internally focused, more home and heart-based rather than what I want to accomplish. Where and how do I want to grow in application of recovery principles? Where and how might I deepen my spiritual connections so that I'm better available to be of service, be that in program or the wider world? 

I came across this lists of questions - good for any time, but especially helpful as I take stock of the year that is passing and plan for the year ahead:

What do I want more of in my life?  Less?

How have I contributed this past year, and what might that look like going forward?

What truly matters to me?

Does my daily life reflect those ideals?

What do I want to learn?

What do I want to practice?

What do I want to complete/end/let go of?

What do I want to experience/enjoy?

What does it mean for me to be well? to thrive?

Best wishes to you as we move towards the darkest day of the year (here in the northern hemisphere) and approach the return of the light (and a happy summer solstice to you down under and elsewhere in the south).

** Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory.  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

I've found myself wrestling with Step 11 recently, tying myself in knots as I try to figure it out. I'm not sure when or how I moved into define-and-explain mode, but have come to re-understand that my spiritual connection is a feeling, not a thinking exercise. 

Over the past year or so, I've found myself being very careful not to talk about my beliefs, or to do so in a very generic way. For me, it's something of a Tradition 10 issue - no opinions on outside issues. I want everyone to feel comfortable in a meeting - Christian, Muslim, Jew, Atheist, Pagan, Republican, Democrat, etc., which means, for me, I don't talk politics and I don't talk specifics about spirituality. How can anyone describe that stuff anyway? And... I feel that something is missing. 

I know that my experience of AA/Alanon and spirituality is very different at 34+ years than it was at three months, or three years when everything was shiny and new. I find myself longing for the feelings of awe and wonder that accompanied those early light-bulb moments. Alas, as I've aged, the novelty has pretty much worn off, or so I think until I hear or see something that takes my breath away. Like last week, when a friend shared about being a good dad and I teared up remembering when he was new and we'd metaphorically wager as to whether or not he'd make it back the following week. That miracle of recovery, of changed lives, is a piece of my higher power(s). I can sometimes feel a meeting almost levitate, when your spiritual energy bounces off mine like an electric current. And, as much as I appreciate our online connections, it just isn't the same as when I can see your tears, watch your hands shake as you pick up your coffee, or feel the rumble of your laughter.

Do I think that I've stayed sober because of some supernatural intervention? Not really. I'm the one who gets myself to meetings and puts pen to paper. I do think it was some combination of grace, pain, and desperation that got me to the point where I'd have done anything to stop hurting, and being in the right place, at the right time, where I connected with people who are still in my life today. God? (Gift Of Desperation) Coincidence? Timing? I don't know, and if I could explain the forces at work in the world, I wouldn't need them. I surrender to the mystery - the mystery of the starfish and the Douglas Fir; the mystery of love and attraction, and of the hopeless drunk who becomes a sober, good father. 

I walked with a friend last week, and when she asked, "How are you?" I was tempted to say, "I'm good," and change the subject. Instead, I talked about all of the above, and how it has felt like I'm pretending not to have a spiritual life. That's what my malaise is really about - not the particulars of my  belief or practices, which grow and change over time, but about being genuine, and true to myself instead of what I think you want to hear. It's about trusting someone enough to say, "This is what's going on," not out of any desire to get fixed, but to hear myself say what's been rattling around in my head. 

And so, the wheel keeps turning. I will continue to be a seeker (I'm currently appreciating the Alternative 12 Step book as an adjunct to the 12x12). As I study and apply Step 12 in December, I'll reconsider what it means to be of service in the time of covid along with how I'm practicing the principles in all my affairs when there aren't that many "affairs" I'm participating in. Service, as well as practicing the principles, doesn't have to be some grand gesture. Maybe it's extra cash in the tip jar when I take-away. Maybe it's a check to the local food bank. Maybe it is intentional kindness to those I interact with instead of my usual hurry-up. Maybe it is being fully present for the 5th Steps I'm hearing this month. And maybe it includes cutting myself some slack in the "should" department.

Today, I picked up a friend (masked) and we went to another's home for a holiday cocoa party, just the three of us, distanced. I've known both these women since 3rd grade, 1963, and we're all in recovery. One moved away before high school, but the other and I were part of the same nebulous park gang that drank our brains out on any given weekend. Such a gift, these friendships over time. I get a little misty when I picture us at 9 or 10 years old, playing hopscotch on the playground, or at 25 when Deb and I sang, "Give peace a chance" at the memorial following John Lennon's murder 40 years ago yesterday. Time is no longer my enemy, though I can feel full to the brim with memories. I think that is a good thing. Some of the past I do regret, but more now falls in the category of sweet remembrance. 

As the end of the year draws near, and a holiday season like no other commences, how are you taking care of yourself , one day at a time? What is one nice thing you can do for yourself today? How about for someone else?

 ** Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory.  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

 I've been in recent meetings chaired by people I've known for decades - one a regular meeting go-er, the other, not so much. What struck me is the variety of how we stay sober. Some people "put the plug in the jug". They stop lying, cheating and stealing, do the Steps once or twice, and have an improved life for a very long time while seeming to just scratch the surface. Then there are others who go deep, making regular practice of the Steps, looking beyond their superficial defects of character to underlying causes and conditions; people who exemplify the principles of the program, whether attending meetings for the long haul or not. Those are the people I listen to most intently as beacons of how to navigate life. I don't care much about the stuff you've gained - houses, cars, spouse. I want to hear about how you answer the 3am demons, what you do when you feel adrift, how you maintain connection to your spiritual source(s). I'll never forget the older guy in an out-of-town meeting who had a great share, sounding like a guru, and then not thirty minutes later, I observed him being incredibly rude to a woman in the grocery store. Surface recovery, or the real deal? As we're told, it's not enough to talk the talk. And, as long as we don't pick up, we're doing something right.

I like to think I'm in the deep end, but will acknowledge that it depends on the season. Sometimes my fields are fallow as I rest, ever so gently, on my laurels. Other times I'm up to my eyeballs in revelation and excavation, prompted by a life event, or perhaps something I've read or heard in a meeting. Sometimes my "searching and fearless" is triggered by a walk in the woods, when I'm able to breathe into nature's stillness. Sometimes the going deeper is accompanied by "This again?" as I circle back on a characteristic or relationship. Always, always, my seeking is related to looking at what comes between me and serenity, whether my own "instincts gone awry" or momentarily forgetting my powerlessness over people, places and things. This never-ending program offers the gift of growth through the years, if I'm willing to do the work, both in and out of the rooms.

There was a time when the never-ending piece scared me. In my first year of sobriety, Bruce, an old-timer, leaned down on one elbow as he surveyed our meeting room, snarling, "Don't let this 'one day at a time' crap fool you - we're talking about the rest of your God damned lives." The rest of  my life. The rest of my god damn life. At 31, my perspective was limited. I'd see the old guys (and it was mostly guys) in their regular seats and think, "You poor old suckers - don't you have anything better to do?" And now I'm one of them, reveling in the understanding that I have lots of better things to do because I'm in my appointed spot each week. And I can only hope to be doing this for the rest of my g.d. life.

One of the pursuits I picked up in earlier recovery was distance running. I'm slow, but point me in one direction and I can go a long way. Migrating from running to walking has been tougher emotionally than I'd anticipated as I relive past accomplishments, with a bit of longing for the satisfaction of a 20 mile trail run. But I've realized much of what I enjoyed about running is the same when I walk - being outdoors, actually living the seasons; the feeling of accomplishment when done for the day, the sense of community whether I'm at the back of the pack, or somewhere in the middle (Bonuses: I can eat before I head out, and am more inclined to stop for a photo or to pet a neighborhood cat. Maybe this is a good thing - that "Slow down, Jeanine" I've heard for so long. Time will tell...) 

I can appreciate the passing of time, and enjoy my memories, while embracing the now, which means I've found my new sport - distance walking! I'm getting ready for a virtual half-marathon (13.1 miles) and may even tackle the full 26.2 in the coming year. While I think of myself as a solitary runner/walker, I'm realizing just how much I enjoy the camaraderie of putting in the miles with my peers. Spending anywhere from one to four hours with a person over the weeks creates a bond as we talk about aches and pains, recipes, relationships, family, life in general. And while that bond is often event-specific, it is real nonetheless. Kind of like our meeting relationships. I may never see you outside the home group, but our connection is genuine. Wish me luck as I continue to let go of one identity while embracing another.

And here we are in December; December 2020 no less. I'll be gathering (virtually) with my Step Group this weekend to talk about how we applied Step 11 during November. It can be a delicate balancing act between making plans and letting go of expectations, surrender and action. My fledgling meditation practice has faltered this month, victim of an abbreviated morning routine. But, I've long said my gut is my barometer, my internal Step 10, 11 and 12. This thing does "become a working part of the mind," just like Bill wrote all those years ago.

How do the maintenance Steps manifest in your life? Thinking of this challenging time we're experiencing, would you say you are in the deep end, or treading water? How do you balance doing and being, surrender and letting go? What, or who is it you need to release today? 

 ** Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory.  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

I woke up in a funk on Monday and had to remind myself that I get melancholy during the holidays in a good year, so a bit of the blues doesn't mean I'm doing anything "wrong." I can sometimes use the program as a weapon - the sword of striving, of "self-improvement," of trying to be better - Step 10 with a vengeance. I seem to self-flagellate more when I'm off-center, when I've forgotten my powerlessness, when I'm looking outside myself for some sort of fix.

As the stars aligned, I found myself in a meeting later that day, shared my dis-ease, and heard several others say the same. Ah yes, I am not alone, in either my grief or my joy. There again,  my off-centeredness can take me to a place of aloneness, of thinking that I'm the only one who sometimes feels lost or unmoored. We could almost call alcoholism/addiction a disease of separation - my perception of "I'm different." That feeling comes less and less the longer I'm in recovery as I'm better able to recognize its lies, and old ideas are old ideas and comfortable in their familiarity, even when not in my best interest. And then the next day I woke up in a positive frame of mind. From the previous evening's shares? From some good news on the personal and greater world fronts? After a good night's sleep? Probably all of the above.

I was honored to attend the online memorial for my husband's first sponsor over the weekend, a well respected member in the Berkeley/Oakland/Bay Area fellowship, who died after a three year journey through liver cancer. It was a moving service, with 9 speakers sharing for five minutes each, followed by smaller break-out groups for individual shares (there were over 180 attendees). Many quoted different things John said over the years, evidence of his commitment to the 12 Steps and service, as well as his grace in walking through a terminal diagnosis. I've been reflecting on one of his statements: "I don't know what's next, so I'll just do what's next." Would that I be so gracious in the face of adversity. 

In another meeting, with a generalized topic of perspective, someone shared the tool of "and," as in, I'll miss seeing our faux-family for Thanksgiving tomorrow, "and" I'm grateful we're all healthy and safe. I'm bummed that gyms are closed, "and" I'm able to get outside for my daily walks. I look forward to vaccines and healing, "and"  I've had enough to eat today, I know where I'll be sleeping tonight, I have my recovery.

I'm an introverted writer, who'd really rather be locked in my garret with candles and a cup of tea, but alas, part of getting read includes at least a modicum of self promotion. A potential opportunity to get the word out about my workbook has presented itself, and as I talked with the person involved, I could feel myself shrink. Having done the work of recovery, I recognized, for a least a few moments, I wanted to be invisible. Rather than letting those old triggers make my decisions, I was able to acknowledge that a part of me was scared, "and"  that I could move forward anyway. One day at a time, one choice at a time. Recovery doesn't mean that I'll never be triggered. What it does mean is that I can respond differently this time, or the next. 

And so, it is Thanksgiving eve here in the U.S. Last year, we shared our meal with my brother and his wife, and my first husband. In the following month, my ex was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer that had metastasized to his brain and my spouse was diagnosed with Stage 1 throat cancer. And then the pandemic and all its disruptions hit. What I've learned over this past year is that nothing is guaranteed - not health, not conferences and airfare I've paid for, not employment, not the ability to safely hang out with family or friends - nothing. What I hope I've gained is a conscious awareness of all there is to be grateful for, even on the darkest of days. I will cook a bird, mash potatoes, and bake a  cake, frosting it using my grandmother's recipe. We'll watch a few episodes of our current show, and maybe some football. We'll call our college student and our San Francisco family, and I'll ring my ex's daughter along with a couple of friends. We'll all likely remark on this strange and separate year, with hopes for better, safer days to come.

The Gratitude List is one of my favorite tools of recovery, never failing to adjust my attitude, even if just a little. I am grateful that I didn't die with a needle in my arm (Thanksgiving marks my final skid towards hitting bottom). I am grateful that I hear from many of you over the course of the weeks. I'm grateful for home and health, sobriety and (relative) sanity. And I'm grateful for connections over time.

What are you grateful for, this day and always? If you have an off day, how are you gentle with yourself in the process of coming back to center?

Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory: 

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time).