Paying Attention

When I was looking for my first house I ‘knew’ which house it was from the time I saw it. It was a small cottage looking over the lake and it was ‘perfect’. I was in the village to look at a house with an agent. He mentioned another place that wasn’t listed on the market but whose owner was looking to sell ‘if the price was right’. I ‘knew’ that this was the house when he drove into the driveway. There’s a spot just below the sternum where I ‘felt’ it, and I ‘knew’. Two months later I was sitting on the deck of that house looking out over Lake Erie, a view that I would relish for the next nine years.

I got the same feeling one morning about seven years ago when I woke up one morning and I ‘knew’ that something had to give. My world was crumbling before me. I was losing the battle. I could feel it in that same place, just below the sternum. My guts were telling me that the show was over. I needed to make changes or I would be heading down a path I ‘knew’ I did not wish to tread.

I have no idea if everyone has that place in their body where they ‘know’.  It’s hard to describe. It’s almost as if knowledge becomes a physical sensation in the body. I’ve had this sensation various times in my life and I know now that it is one of the ways my Higher Power speaks to me. I suppose it had to be this way for me to pay attention. I wasn’t the most intuitive and sensing person.

Learning to listen, to follow one’s intuition is not easy, especially at first. When I began my journey in recovery, my thinking wasn’t my greatest asset: a good reason for me to work with my sponsor, go to meetings and listen. Going through the process of the steps I began to fathom the depths of what it really meant to ‘turn my will and my life over to the care of my Higher Power, a ‘God of my understanding’. And, if I’ve really done this, it only makes sense that he would communicate with me, right? How else will I know what my next step is to be? Slowly my trust of those feelings began to grow. I’ve learned that the more connected I am with myself and my Higher Power, the more aware I am of my intuition. I’m learning to pay attention to what’s happening around me.

It’s not always that physical sensation; it doesn’t have to be now. Most days I start off with a prayer. Most days I write. Most days I go to a meeting. These are the things that maintain my spiritual condition that keeps me in recovery. I’m able to see the patterns in my life and the mosaic of this world and I marvel. My life continues to evolve and morph into new experiences because I am open to them, I take the time to listen. I truly am grateful for my life today.

Living the Dream

Happy New Year. It’s like my mother said, as you get older, time moves more quickly! That seemed like a quick trip around the sun. But it was a good trip; a trip filled with lots of lessons and learning. I know it is just another day, but it’s the day of new beginnings for many. I am sure the rooms of recovery programs will again see an influx of newcomers. (My sponsor calls January the ‘prime recruitment month’.) I wish them well on their path to recovery.

A question came to my mind today: If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you be doing today? There are variations of the question out there. What are you knocking off the bucket list for this year? Are your affairs in order? Are you living your dreams?  For me though, it begs the question: So why aren’t you doing that now?

I’ve learned that life is full of twists and turns, just like the river. I don’t know what is around the corner. And yes, tomorrow may be my last day. Memento mori is the latin term for the practice of remembering our mortality: Remember that you have to die, is the translation. Life will not go on forever. It can end at any moment. This reminder could lead one into a blue funk, but for me it is a reminder of how precious life is. Each moment that passes I can be grateful for. Memento mori urges me on to live my dreams, to make a life and not eke out a living. I don’t have to build a castle, I can visit many castles.

It’s not always been easy, but I have been living a life that is different from the norm. I haven’t had a typical job for over thirty years: part-time, contract, seasonal, freelance. Some people say to me that they wish the could have my life in the tropics. I usually tell them that they can have this life too. Then I hear about responsibilities, and mortgages, and pensions and more excuses. I don’t argue but I do know from living the results, that everyone can stop having dreams and start living them.

This Christmas was the 23rd anniversary of my father’s death. He was only 63 and it marked me deeply. It taught me that life is a gift with an unknown expiration date and then  I too, will have to die. Life is for living. These thoughts follow on with the big lesson of 2017 for me: I will survive everything that comes my way, until I don’t.  There is so much to experience in this life. Step out of your comfort zone. Try new things. Live your dreams. Memento mori reminds me life is short and I will be dead for a lot longer than I lived on this earth. And I remember the movie Auntie Mame: “Live! That’s the message. Yes, life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!”

This New Year’s Day, if you must make a resolution, make one to live your dreams. Paint if you’ve always wanted to be a painter. Write if you want to write the greatest novel of the 21st century. Go on that retreat you want to go to. Don’t focus on the results. Forget about what people might say. Instead, focus on the experience. Live your dream. Dine at that banquet of life today and every day!

My Greatest Gift

Our recovery program is an enigma: I can’t keep it unless I give it away and the moment I say I have it, I don’t. It reminds me of something we did  in school as a kid.  We took cornstarch and mixed it with water. As long as it was in motion we could roll it around and make a ball in our hands, like a silly putty. But the moment we stopped moving it, it became a liquid and oozed through our fingers. This interesting mixture only has solidity when you ‘work’ it. My program needs movement; this is a program of action. The moment I stop the action, the program oozes through my fingers and I’ve lost it.

Step twelve tells us that we need to carry the message of recovery to others. Carrying the message is what keeps the memory of my own recovery fresh. Talking with another addict or alcoholic helps me to remember that I am just a couple of bad decisions away from taking a drink or a hit. It takes the steps and the slogans and forces me to apply them in different ways and in different situations. And it keeps my mind and my heart open to gratitude for what I was freely given.

Working with someone is the greatest gift I can give them: I am offering them the gift of a new life and a way out of the darkness they are living in. I am offering an example from my own life that change really is possible and that if I, another addict could do it, then there is the possibility that another person could do it too. And it is the greatest gift I can give myself because I am constantly renewing my own life and deepening my understand of the many facets of the diamond that is sobriety. Regardless of the outcome, I strengthen my own recovery.

Early on in my recovery I wanted to tell the world about the program. But we don’t do it that way. It’s attraction, not promotion that we work at. Let the active addict or alcoholic see how I have changed; be an example of how my life has changed. I don’t have to preach on the streets, this is a program of anonymity. But as someone once told me, “Don’t be so anonymous that no one can find you.”

Be open to talking a bit about the program at the parties and gatherings you attend this season. Trust that your higher power will bring you opportunities to shine your light in someone else’s darkness. Be the designated driver. Show your happiness, joy and freedom and others will be attracted to you and what you have. Share what others freely gave you and you will receive the gift of continued recovery.

I am grateful.

Merry Christmas.