Smog

June 30

SMOG


When I burn out, the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area. I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full; I empty out and my light grows dim. I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep. If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it and the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood. I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze. Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task if I make proper use of resources. When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted and separated from my source, then the source I am to others is extinguished. I can only light the darkness where I am; I can’t illuminate someone else’s path. Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor due to a lapse in my spiritual condition.


Place the period then write to it.

Heat Exchange

June 29

HEAT EXCHANGE



I stand in the shower and let the water run. The water carries away my temperature in exchange for its own. I leave the enclosure restored. Mentally, a meeting does this for me. I change hot topics for more moderate positions, cold indifference for warm regard. Stepping into a group of my fellows carts off my excess ego and flushes my pride. Isolation is taken and camaraderie left in its place. I am always changed by standing amid the rush of sober minds and faithful service. Balance comes from proximity and willingness. Everything is reduced to letting myself get wet.


Measure your growth on a doorpost.

Reclamation Artist

June 27

RECLAMATION ARTIST


I stand over the refuse can and peer in; I drive slowly past the piles of curbside discards. I have so much trouble accepting there is no reclaiming most of this ever-growing mass. There must be an alternate plan but I can’t see it yet. I surround myself with hopeful stacks and wishful trinkets. I want to make a new world from the old, save past relationships and make them somehow fresh. I don’t want to drown. I fear I can’t think fast enough to keep the wave from breaking over us all. I will maintain an open mind and be grateful my life was retrieved from the dustbin. I’ll steal peeks at what has been put out for lost. I was once lost, too.


Read your favorite book one page a day.

Anything is Possible

June 26

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE


Just because the crows fly away when I arrive doesn’t mean they are afraid, but they might be. The obvious answers are usually the correct ones; I must leave room for the unlikely answers, too. Sometimes a spade is a shovel and a gofer is occasionally a retriever. The world is a wonderful and fearful place where possibilities are endless if I am willing to allow the light to strike these sheltered doubts. Any day, anywhere, an alcoholic can stay drunk or get sober.


Practice your game face so you don’t have to play a game.

Alone in a New Way

June 25

ALONE IN A NEW WAY


I am restored. I have my sanity like a spring coat. I am not sure I need it but it’s nice to have nevertheless. I prayed for this state of reason believing it would give me entry to a world where I was a late arrival. Much to my chagrin I have found myself obscenely early to a party I am no longer sure will ever take place. I stand in the entrance hall and practice new dance steps. I search the space for prospective partners but rarely see anyone who is swaying to the same beat. I am grateful for my sanity even if I have to enjoy it alone.


Write a sassy letter and let it dance.

Water Babies

June 24

WATER BABIES



Timeless babies bobble in their underwater positions. Voiceless cherubs bounce and wink, the river of their wisdom streams to my feeble mind. The noise of silence wrinkles and tinkles as the waves crash soundlessly above. My head fills; I must surface but beg not to lose my connection when I break the tension of top-side sobriety; I turn these angels to screened-off faithfuls. I owe all I have to these aquatic infants. Every hope, all my fear is held to test in the face of swimming heroines and their embryonic grave.


Read a poem to a plant.

Too Far, Too Fast

June 23

TOO FAR, TOO FAST


Balloons filled with hydrogen race the atmosphere and fly away. The effect is stunning, so much lift for just pennies. The easy way has no line, no waiting; fast dirty service is available. Risk assessment is counter-balanced with dramatic outcome, low initial cost and instant gratification. How can I not want to rise above the crowd? How can I not want it now? Hydrogen is quick and plentiful, volatile yes, but why should this bother me? I have a Higher Power to protect me. It’s not as if I were playing with fire. I am only tempting it.


Tell the tale of your life from the perspective of your thumb.

Inventory

June 22

INVENTORY

“When you say ‘self’ who ever do you mean?” asked my sponsor. “Do you mean the lovely velvet child or the facade you built to show others?”
“Well, I wish I could answer you, I do,” my reply.
“I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety. I love that you made it. When you talk about ridding yourself of ‘self’ I doubt you mean this edifice. Do you speak of some creature in the past? Do you know of whom you speak? Are you parroting then assuming this thing exists solely for you to now dispose of it?”
“I thought ‘self’ was self-evident,” I feebly interject.
“I want names and locations. If you only suspect some of these entities please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions. I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals. I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping. I see by the bright look on your face I have made myself clear,” she said with conviction.
“So, this is what you meant by self inventory,” I say and sigh.


Draw a maze of exit from a dilemma.

Fabulous

June 21

FABULOUS


“I don’t care what else is on the inventory. You still have to take responsibility for fabulous,” said my sponsor with a determined look on her face.
“But you don’t understand. The other things on the list make it impossible for me to be fabulous. You just can’t see how incapable I truly am,” I say as I collapse into a pathetic heap in the overstuffed chair.
“What you don’t comprehend is that fabulous is not affected by your other little grumbling. You can’t tarnish fabulous; it doesn’t wear away with burden or neglect. This is why no matter how far you bury it, or misname it, or even flatly deny it, fabulous shines like a beacon and you end up with every Todd, Nick and Martha on your doorstep expecting you to be who you are and let them warm in the glow. So, my cherub, you can fight it or live with it, but fabulous is here to stay.”
And this ladies and gentlemen is how my sponsor wins all the arguments.


Pour a rainbow into your dreams.

The Palmist

June 20

THE PALMIST


Last night I had a silly dream. I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said, “Today you will go to a meeting that will save your life.” I thanked her and left full of anticipation. When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation. I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation. I paid close attention to the coffee maker, those setting up chairs with me, and the newcomer. I listened carefully to the speakers and the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer. Nothing out of the ordinary happened… other than my realization that every meeting saves my life.


Believe in contradiction.

The Palmist

June 20

THE PALMIST


Last night I had a silly dream. I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said, “Today you will go to a meeting that will save your life.” I thanked her and left full of anticipation. When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation. I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation. I paid close attention to the coffee maker, those setting up chairs with me, and the newcomer. I listened carefully to the speakers and the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer. Nothing out of the ordinary happened… other than my realization that every meeting saves my life.


Believe in contradiction.

The Landing

June 19

THE LANDING


Risers and runners lift from where I stand. Here I make my decision. I climb and face the challenges of my life. Each new test returns me to this square; the steps ascend in every direction. No matter how many times I have scaled this set of twelve, I must start anew with even the slightest change of direction. Like facets on a diamond’s base, the flights emerge from the tiny base and hold the world of possibilities within their meticulous surface. I look into these precious mirrors to see who I am and where to go, though none of this would be possible without a place to stand.


Chart the constellation of your features.

Cloning Days

June 18

CLONING DAYS


The novelty of sobriety causing sweet days wore to gauze and I attempted control. I cut, pasted and sutured elements of good living in an effort to make 24 hours of personal perfection. I was so sure I could replicate these jewel like days. I would make perfect spheres, everything round and even, one after another like a string of pearls. The more I tried the harder God laughed. Days are their own planets; Saturn is different from Mars and today will have just as little to do with tomorrow if I let it all work out. Perfection is a thing, which is born to live, not a thing I can craft in a dish or a test tube. Life must will-out or chaos will prevail.


Take two words and make a seesaw in your mind.

Bouquet

June 17

BOUQUET



I love the flowers in my garden. Their upkeep is my solemn trust. With my shears, I must cut, clear and swift, the runners that detract from their health and structure. When fruiting is heavy, I must spare the stalk and choose what stays and what needs to be taken. I am scrupulous in my observation of form and function. The bucolic scene thrives; the pageant of color sweeps the rows. I bend to nurture and stretch to prune. I pay over-much attention to the plucking and forget I need to bring the blooms home.


Allow a dark worldview to illuminate a lightness of spirit.

The Bear

June 16

THE BEAR

Living with my disease is like having a sleeping bear in the house. I knew it was there, could hear it snore. I never felt comfortable or able to turn my back on it and get on with my life. I felt under certain threat. Fearing the bear would wake when my attention was elsewhere, I proceeded to poke my sleeping bear with a stick. I prodded it to wakefulness; in retrospect, it is clear I was unprepared for a wakeful bear, even with my full attention fixed on this brute. The bear, which is my disease, roamed about the house and made forays out into the world. I had no plan or tool for these events. Finding a legion of people who had worked out living arrangements with their bears, I happily joined their ranks. My bear wakes and sleeps at its will but I am no longer afraid or unskilled at handling this creature. Today I am so grateful for the bear in my life and would never want a life without it. I live in a world filled with bears and would be at a loss as to how to exist if not for the practice and success with the bear that is my own.


Draw a picture of time.

In the Meadow

June 15

IN THE MEADOW



Being the only tree in the meadow often leaves me feeling lonely. I tell myself of the camaraderie I imagine in the forest. These images are more poetic than real. I believe in community and support; I think of the woods as this place apart from the complications of my exposed life. I shrug off the very real competition and struggle from sharing every inch of root space and the search for each square of sunlight. There is much joy in being an individual. An eco-system of diversity allows me to fully develop. I can spread my branches and my roots. I can offer shelter to those in need of my reaching and my shadow; tender flowers and tired birds find me a haven. I have unique abilities in this field. Space can feel lonely but it is full of possibilities.


Press up against your iron will.

In the Meadow

June 15

IN THE MEADOW



Being the only tree in the meadow often leaves me feeling lonely. I tell myself of the camaraderie I imagine in the forest. These images are more poetic than real. I believe in community and support; I think of the woods as this place apart from the complications of my exposed life. I shrug off the very real competition and struggle from sharing every inch of root space and the search for each square of sunlight. There is much joy in being an individual. An eco-system of diversity allows me to fully develop. I can spread my branches and my roots. I can offer shelter to those in need of my reaching and my shadow; tender flowers and tired birds find me a haven. I have unique abilities in this field. Space can feel lonely but it is full of possibilities.


Press up against your iron will.

Red Roses

June 14

RED ROSES




From tight green buds come beautiful red roses. From small verdant places I blossom, too. I open to richness unexpected and fullness unbelieved. I look at laundry crumpled, never anticipating the look of clean sheets blowing on the line. Doors I perceive as blocked by vast boulders are thrown open by willingness. Who I am today is no one I recognize; I didn’t see myself coming. I write though I can’t spell. I love though my heart is broken. I think though my mind is warped and I trust though the amulet is long shattered. Promise is not a laid out plan but the continuum of change. I can fight it or let it carry me where it goes.


Smile at similes.

Open Windows

June 13

OPEN WINDOWS



I roll down the window in the rain hoping reality will soak in with the droplets. I tilt up my face as I leave the car and let the water shower my features. The downpour is the jolt to living for which I have prayed. I stand on my lawn and rinse the day out of my hair; I clear my brain in the fresh rainwater. The driving rain pounds the house and trees but I feel massaged and cared for. My skin, reflexive, teaches my mind to absorb and hydrate. I turn my thoughts to Greater Powers. Even if the doors have been closed, I can open the windows and let the rain come in.


Soap the windows on some of your ideas so you can work in privacy.

The Worm

June 12

THE WORM


Because there is never enough punishment for those who inflict hurt, I punish myself. Only I can tell if the depth of the pain is a match; only I can judge when enough is enough. This is the turn of the drunken worm who lives in my brain. The belief that what began in pain must end there, too. Even now in recovery, I persist in hurting myself a thousand tiny ways. setting trap after trap to catch the perpetrators, I make my heart a mine field, a place unfit for me to live. I must sober the worm and let myself off the hook.


Dip intentions into action and let them firm up.

The Worm

June 12

THE WORM


Because there is never enough punishment for those who inflict hurt, I punish myself. Only I can tell if the depth of the pain is a match; only I can judge when enough is enough. This is the turn of the drunken worm who lives in my brain. The belief that what began in pain must end there, too. Even now in recovery, I persist in hurting myself a thousand tiny ways. setting trap after trap to catch the perpetrators, I make my heart a mine field, a place unfit for me to live. I must sober the worm and let myself off the hook.


Dip intentions into action and let them firm up.

Bottle The Acid

June 11

BOTTLE THE ACID



My sponsor said to bottle the acid and so I did. I sat back in smug reflection until the plumbing backed up. I grabbed the fast solution and poured it down the drain. My sponsor smiled as I learned the baser things will eat my life away, too. I can never just decant power and expect it to sweep clean the clogged pathways in my recovery. Sloshing caustic medicine into open orifices brought me here. I long for the ease of a liquid resolution. In the end, I must clean the pipes myself. The traps are simpler to cleanse the less I’ve lied. Telling myself I don’t have to get my hands or heart dirty is the biggest lie of all.


Eat lunch with relish.

Dance of Death

June 10

DANCE OF DEATH


Honeyed words pour from painted lips; shades of doubt color my mind. Stained glass eyes look to blank walls and picture the gallery of imagination, attempting to sell it for hard currency. Sirens sing from the throats of mute men; the screams which rise in me fall on deaf ears. Paradox feeds controversy but it needn’t. Evolution from a cesspool is repugnant though progress is steadily made. Inertia is violent if that is from whence it came. Afterbirth is always bloody and humans not always nice. I must live and heal as others climb up and slide down. I must keep the beat and forget the dance of death.


Float your expectations and check for daggers underneath.

Gulping

June 9

GULPING



The plug that lodges in my throat from too much, too fast, causes the anxiety to rise in me. The panic fulls my contracting muscles into rock solid revolt. 'I can’t live' is the predictable result. Gulping attention, acclaim, excitement, sex does the same thing. My heart clots and my personality stops in mid flow. Everything, in carefully chosen well-chewed bites, makes the process proceed. My life works along workable paths if I stay away from oversized freight. I can never swallow myself whole; why would I keep trying to imbibe giants like desire?


Tumble your heart like a stone then warm it.

Three Roosters

June 8

THREE ROOSTERS


The three roosters come to the meeting to hear themselves crow. The membership purely spectators in the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition. Those of us in the fray are like picked-on-puppies who learn slowly not to put our heads up to spare our eyes and hearts. The same noise comes repeatedly. Suspicion is never aroused; the heads nod at all the right places, orchestrated for ego and nothing else. The meeting is closed with a momentary prayer for the still suffering in and out of the room. I pray that will be enough.


Tour your past but leave at closing time.

Hostage Doll

June 7

HOSTAGE DOLL



A doll stands wedged between two mailboxes, naked and exposed, the edge of the road passing her by. She is there to pay for my self-loathing. I throw my treasures in the air as skeet to be shot and shattered. Hate is the obnoxious microbe, which sours my digestion and rids me of nutrition and affection. I purge love and tenderness. I rip the covers from my playthings and leave them to bleed. I hide in my self-destruction. I put garish displays street-side and cry my tears alone. I can not ransom innocence to pay the price of fear. I must bring in the broken babies and put hate out on the curb.


Tickle wit with realism.

The One I Bought

June 6

THE ONE I BOUGHT

There are fairy tales I never gave credence to. Multiple bear stories don’t move me. Cats with footwear have not warranted a second thought. True love-----now that one I still buy hook, line and sinker. Work hard and true love will fix the rest; that is what I have always believed. The evil spell I have walked under during my sad little life will be broken only by the durable and all-fulfilling love of my betrothed. Each time this plan fell through, the blame was leveled at the wrongness of the match but not the wrongness of the plot. Anytime I work to be restored to sanity by one person, I have displaced a rightful power and thrown myself to the sea.


Let a whisker width of optimism carry your day.

The One I Bought

June 6

THE ONE I BOUGHT

There are fairy tales I never gave credence to. Multiple bear stories don’t move me. Cats with footwear have not warranted a second thought. True love-----now that one I still buy hook, line and sinker. Work hard and true love will fix the rest; that is what I have always believed. The evil spell I have walked under during my sad little life will be broken only by the durable and all-fulfilling love of my betrothed. Each time this plan fell through, the blame was leveled at the wrongness of the match but not the wrongness of the plot. Anytime I work to be restored to sanity by one person, I have displaced a rightful power and thrown myself to the sea.


Let a whisker width of optimism carry your day.

Doll

June 5

DOLL

“Why is your face all red?” asked my sponsor.
“I didn’t get my way,” I responded.
“And this crimson appearance is the result?”
“You see that it is. I was very careful about what I wanted and worked hard to be reasonable.”
“And Baby, you were. You did nothing wrong. Your ego was in check and you kept your expectations in proportion.” said my sponsor.
“Then why didn’t it work out my way?”
“I only have a sad and simple answer for you. The result had nothing to do with you, your wants, expectations or desires. The whole experience boils down to only one thing: It was not that type of party, Doll.”
“Oh.”


Promise yourself tears like rain and smiles like sunshine.

Frequently

June 4

FREQUENTLY


When my daydream gets so threadbare I no longer use it, I must turn to other sources. When I cannot conjure on my own and elucidation makes me cross eyed, I must turn to HP. I have puttered and prolonged the way to naming this legendary and fabulous enigma. I drew out even longer any desire for close association with the same. I have milled with the millstone and surfed in the whirlpool, dragged my feet and thrown a fit, but this only stalled the inevitable result. Naming and interaction is the need and now is the time. I have a Higher Power and I choose to call it Frequently.


Dreams grow wings if you let them.

Seasonal Expectations

June 1

SEASONAL EXPECTATIONS

If I am out of sync with the way the world turns, I can be nothing but disappointed. I arrive with ice skates on the hottest summer day and grieve the loss of spring. I shiver in my sandals and ponder the need for a windshield scraper, the autumn leaves so long past. I must orchestrate my moods and movements with the evolution and revolution about me. I will learn to sing with the doves in the morning and the coyotes, come the moon. I can spin with the stars. I can grow with the grass. I don’t need to counter- balance life. If I learn to bend with the tides, it all comes around again.


If moles can make hills you can move mountains.