I'm grateful for choosing kindness in the middle of a situation I was escalating, which in turn helped end matters pleasantly. I'm grateful AA teaches me to keep my side of the street clean - it saves me from getting enmeshed in sticky situations and feeling regret afterwards. I'm grateful for the sweet message my sponsee shared after our conversation yesterday - it's a reminder that being a good listener and simply suggesting, without being dogmatic, is always the best approach for me. I'm grateful for a friend, who started in AA but got sober through other means, teaching me a lot about the variety of paths that are available for those struggling. I'm grateful for our HOA having calm, understanding adults looking to get things done as a team. I'm grateful for seeing the "parameters" of AA as liberating nowadays as opposed to limiting. I'm grateful for not discounting new ideas immediately, but instead having the humility to log them in my memory bank in case they could be helpful down the road. I'm grateful for Harper loving the new toys we got for him from Crested Butte. I'm grateful for fresh Blueberry granola with yogurt as a cooling, delicious Summer treat.
I've been talking with my Sponsee about spiritually in AA a fair amount. How to define it, even when that definition is vague. How to have faith in it, especially if it's not tied to a religious doctrine. How it evolves over time, specifically what inputs can affect real change.
I definitely don't have precise answers to these questions. If anything the fluidity that exists around finding answers is what has been most important for my growth. If I was religious then I feel like life could be simpler in certain ways. I would have my specific set of edicts and stories that would provide clarity in a chaotic world.
But I don't have religion. I have whatever amorphous spirituality that continues evolving with time. I wish there was insight into what happens to our souls. Like do I go to a heaven or hell-like place? Does my conscience get to continue existing on another ethereal plane alongside friends and family or is it basically over?
What I do know is that once our physical form is done, we simply begin the process of decomposition. In my Hindu customs we burn the body so decomposition for me would be quick to say the least. Eventually our matter dissolves into the ground for Earth to use in whatever ways necessary to continue supporting life. In a poetic sense our bodies do continue, except they simply become the building blocks for other living things, just not tethered to our identity.
The answer of where our souls go is more confounding. Sure the memory of us lingers in others, but after two generations most of that may disappear - unless I'm some big shot in history. I know virtually nothing about my great grandparents, but obviously were it not for them I wouldn't be here. Also I don't plan to have kids so does that mean after I pass the memory of me will be more transient than somebody who has kids? Living in an era where technology keeps our virtual footprint alive, I am lucky I've made a few contributions there such that some random person can find me on Google's 10th page of search results. But that doesn't answer whether my soul continues in a way where I can directly sense it. Others may, but can I? As an alcoholic isn’t it about me after all? 🙂
I'm realizing the above is very trippy and I'm not quite sure how it came about from a starting point of trying to define my spirituality. I guess one takeaway is that this lack of certainty, this confusing existential bigness, doesn't cause me stress or agita like it used to while drinking. AA has taught me to break matters down into their smaller components ("one day at a time" as we say) and avoid future or past tripping. Live in the now. Focus on the next right actions...now. Make the most of what is happening...now. In doing that I can build a firm enough foundation to then tackle life’s larger questions.
Observing my "now" I can resolutely say I feel good. Vodka made every single thing hazy and scary. Not the case anymore. I still have my health. I have a comfortable roof over my head. I have my finances in a decent place. I have routines that nourish my spirit. I have a small community that I cherish. By taking stock of today’s gifts that have come about because of liquor's absence, I can contemplate the existential stuff with genuine courage and constructive curiosity. I can comfortably define, redefine, or never define nebulous concepts till the very end as long as I keep an emotionally sober mind in the present.
