Rex

August 31

Rex

Hungry dogs who love me anyway, dance around waiting to be fed. If they didn’t love they would take bloody bites and I don’t forget it. These puppies have teeth, like cigarettes I want to smoke but don’t. And meanwhile back on the farm I seek to quiet the whines and barking of the unfed, malnourished familiarity which writhes at my ankles and jumps at my knees. I can no longer pat my disquiet on the head and expect it to stay or heal. I must hunt down the beast which bothers me and feed the meat of it to the pups. I must not leave the lopers to quarry my burden if I want to remain master and leave them to be pet.

Rip yourself away from distress

*

DO YOU HEAR THAT SOUND

I was running on empty

And thought I was getting along that way

But the smoke gave me away.

My life had caught on fire

And I burned to the ground.

I thought nothing had been apparent

Until it all lay in ashes.

My sponsor said, No-------

We all knew when you tank ran dry.

The sucking sound could be heard for miles around.

I asked her, if that were true,

Why I hadn’t hear it myself?

She said, she guessed,

I had my denial turned up to loud.

Even at the Bottom

August 30

Even at the Bottom

Why is it that I feel G-d leads me to the path, but expects me to travel it alone? In all honesty it feels more like G-d leads me to the stairs and I fall down them on my own. I lay in a heap at the bottom, filled with self-reproach for the landing. I forget that a power which draws me forward can also endure. I did not come here alone, will not leave here alone; I am never alone, even at the bottom of the stair.

Pat-down unwanted thoughts

*

HARVEST TIMING

The harvest fits in the growing season

And the oak fits inside the acorn.

My sober mind fits right in my sober time.

The soul of everything rubs across

The hind leg of a cricket to sing.

The infinite machinery of the universe spins

But you stand there questioning

The existence of a Higher Power.

Well, that’s who you are

But I have only one question for you

Who else could have made

All the best tomatoes come from Jersey?

The Slick Nature of Grace

August 29

The Slick Nature of Grace

The higher I climb, the more severe the fall; the sweeter my life, the more brittle my blood sugar. I must be more careful as I get better. I thought being sober would make my life free from care, but I think it is a freedom from fretting that might be more accurate. I must still climb and take in all the sweetness which comes my way, but always I must vigilantly keep my balance. Hold on tighter; eat more protein. Grace is a glorious thing and I am the consecrated recipient who knows the slickness of the slopes and the cunning of the glucose. Daring to be sober is an athletic endeavor I must tighten my cleats and sharpen my sweet tooth.

Check your motives against something fixed, then against something in motion

*

WILL YOU GET TO THE OTHER SIDE

Chickens stand together on the edge of the road

Pecking and scratching

People make fun.

People tell jokes

But it’s not so funny when we are the ones

Playing on the tracks.

We forget that all the excuses about

Longing for excitement and

Not wanting to be cut off from the world

Sound like so much cackling

To the ears of people who value their lives.

Life in the pasture or the backyard

Is fulfilling if you want it.

That kind of life is no adrenaline rush

But then again isn’t adrenaline just another drug.

Defining the Indefinable

August 28

Defining the Indefinable

What is Alcoholism? What is a Hurricane? What is a Cataclysm? I know I look for the root cause, look to predict the outcome, look to prevention and preservation of this thing which comes pouring from the four winds to land in my dooryard and knock on my screen door. What it shows me today, the furious winds, the slanting rain, may not be how it presents tomorrow, but I must keep in mind it is all the same storm and must be regarded with the same respect and treated with the same care and diligence. Whether it’s the thirst or the thinking, a jail cell or my mental mouse trap, alcoholism is an umbrella term for the tsunami, which came to collect me, but no definition will convey the devastation it has wrought.

Make sure you are more than your memories

*

THE FRUIT BOWL

Meetings are living and precious fruit

I must squeeze every drop from them

even the lemons.

I am privileged to be among the succulent growth

and pungent fragrance of determined hearts

and minds ----the infusion of strength.

The vitality received from the essence of truth

gives and gives to me.

I am refreshed by exposure to raw talent

revived by action and growth.

The diversity of shape and flavor

cheer and inspire me.

The contrast from bowl to challis is dramatic

ever a reminder to stay where it’s fresh.

Burning with Desire

August 27

Burning with Desire

You cannot stop the flames from licking me by telling me I am not on fire. For some reason you do not perceive the flames; you do not know fire. I cradle the desperate hope that you will recognize the ashes when the burn is done. By then it is too late for rescue, but the field is then wide open for regret. Resplendent is what I thought I was before the fire broke out. Now I feel like a misunderstood mansion torched to make way for a Walmart.

Dream your own dreams

*

FUNK & WAGNALL’S BACK PORCH

Bottoms come sealed in envelopes

From unknown accountants.

Amazing how many nominees and how few winners.

The audience filled with past recipients

Hold their collective breaths.

They pray for this year’s finalist

And pray a bigger prayer

Of thanks to this years donors,

The ones who prove with their lives

That it hasn’t gotten better out there.

The speeches are the same.

A gratitude list and maybe a punch line.

The smiles and tears fresh but familiar.

When the lights go out on this night,

The days of diligence begin once again

So no one need loose their seat

And we can all celebrate here next year together.

Make Use of Brown Soap

August 26

Make Use of Brown Soap

When I have death in my pocket it makes it easy to cross the street without a glance. A little arsenic in my in my veins allows me to swallow the rest with no thought beyond want. Twist the screws tight enough in my brain and no other pressure seems problematic. All of the trouble in the world can beat a path to my door when I carry within me the seeds of destruction. I have to check myself for stow-away devastation. Ruin begins in tiny droplets but will wash me down the drain if not wiped immediately from my skin. Vigilant acknowledgement of the power of small burdens protects me from the mind blown ravages of the ensuing cyclone. Microbes cause mayhem, so I must watch where I touch and wash before I eat.

Don’t keep your windows shuttered; don’t keep your eyes closed

*

UNIFIED THEORY

When I build the circuit correctly the light comes on.

When I heal the shards together the bell rings.

If I am meticulous and attentive, if the world is gracious

And bares herself to my mind I will see how everything fits.

I know the reflexive nature of things

And the way life folds one thing inside the other.

Whale song is a long slow underwater birdcall.

Moon rise, sun rise, then the moon again.

The universe works without my interference

But also without my complete understanding.

I am learning how to be a part of a beautiful maze

I long to comprehend it.

The weeds are trying to take back the city

If I lay down maybe they will take me back too.

If I keep my eyes open I might see it all unfold.

Conception without is my desire within.

Echidna's Child

August 25

Echidna’s Child

The difference between perplexed paranoia and procrastination is sometimes a subtle distinction. The confusion which swirls, confounding me along my trudge, gets the name of procrastinator. I am not at all sure I should continue to call it by that name. I believe that quite possibly I am an internal chimera, a blend of creatures, both mythic and fantastic, striving to live as one functioning specter, in a world too hard for a disparate visage as myself. When I am most myself, when the goal is pure and true, I work with a will. When I am making deadly compromise and risking my soul for social ease or the approval of the keepers, my dragon heart rebels and I am struggling against the fire in my stomach and fear screaming in my head. I don’t know how to eliminate the conflict, but for now I will attempt to stop calling myself names.

Beware of hopelessness it has a big imagination

*

WATERLINE

The interface of water and land is compelling.

Soothing but dramatic I’m drawn to this transition.

I stand and watch the lap, lap, lapping of the liquid to the land.

The gift of one place to another calls me.

Change and transition exhilarate my senses.

Whether it is rock or sand, river or sea,

I feel the pull to watch life in response.

Boundaries are beautiful.

Borders allow safety and recreation not just risk.

When I embrace this in life I embrace it in me.

Just Say NO to Bushel Baskets

August 24

Just Say NO to Bushel Baskets

Spending my life under a bushel basket kept me from realizing who I am. I thought because of the close quarters I knew myself better than those free to explore the world, yet, alas, no. I am unaware of the world outside and inside the bin; this woven covering served to sever all true communications. Even in places where my candle burned through, it couldn’t allow sufficient light, in or out, for as much as an SOS or a night light. Here I am, not knowing my abilities… my possibilities…. or my worth and there is the world, standing a startled stranger from me, for I only know it as the circle around my feet and nothing more.

Manipulate your mind until it is supple and flexible

*

HARD TIMES

Sometimes I pack the earth down so hard

that weeds can’t even grow up through.

I try to make nature inert.

I try to kill my alcoholism.

I confine my disease to this tiny path of compacted dirt

and wear blinders as to ward off distractions.

I forget there is a garden to be grown

in the fertile ground of my recovering mind.

Losing the compulsion to drink is a gift.

Stopping my mind from thinking is soul murder.

I can sink my toes in the good brown soil

and look to the lilies and Queen Ann’s Lace for inspiration

.

I can stop giving myself such a hard time.

Carrion

August 23

Carrion

The trouble with not burying my dead issues is that in very short order they begin to smell and not, too long after that they start to attract vultures. Alternately when I am able to drain all the juice out of these botherations and they become freeze-dried decorations like Roy Rodger’s Trigger, I find that I can still climb aboard but they just don’t take me anywhere. I have found, just for me that I prefer visiting the grave of a past problem far better than having to live with its corpse, but then I am funny like that. I have never been one for hanging on to the crucifixion, of other’s or my own.

Don’t wait for the bell of courage to sound, go ring it yourself

*

THE CALL

Within the sound of your voice

I sing.

In the beat of your heart

I heal.

I feel in your touch

And dance when your toe starts to tap.

I see myself in your beauty

And warm inside your embrace.

Your thoughts are my inspiration.

Your lungs breathe me in and blow me out.

I soar in your flight

And dream in your waking.

I ring in your ears

Fall with your tears.

I’m lost in you

And found in you.

I travel and lounge in you

I share all your rantings and hide in your secrets

You hear and caress me, my darling

You know who I am.

Up to Date

August 22

Up to Date

The future is a prison I escape by staying in today. The tiny windows which open to strange foreknowledge have barbs rather than bars and inflict painful wounds when I attempt too close examination. My business is here and now; the currency like manna, good only for the duration of the day and nothing further. Pretty dreams and colossal disaster float as baubles on the horizon but I need to take down my focus from such far off vistas; adjusting the optics for a clear view of where I am standing. Circumscription is what the destiny becomes when I try to live in it too soon. Novelty is what it is to be living in the very moment I am currently breathing in.

Find ways to embrace the random nature of life

*

ORIGAMI

I fold my reality like origami

Everyday a shape to suit my whim.

A dog when I feel like begging.

A horse when I want to trot away.

A pot to brew up some potion.

A penguin when I feel cold

And I stand on my egg all day.

I can bend and flex, change my image

But in the end I am truly flat and lifeless

A construct of imagination but soulless and boring.

Reality cannot be my creation,

Made in the accordion of my mind.

Truth and breath come like wind

And I need to let them change direction

And change me too.

Hang On or Dance

August 21

Hang on or Dance

Because I felt ‘outcomes’ slipping through my fingertips I dug in with my nails, I schemed, plotted, worried, whined. Lack of power was my problem I thought, but what it came down to was, failure to acknowledge… accept… failure to surrender to the reality of powerlessness. The only thing I learned from resistance was an intimate knowledge of futility. When I embraced truth… the facts…when I live with the gravity of masses not fight against it; I began to enjoy the weather, knowing I did not pull the clouds or push the storm. I’m back in the dance of people moving about me, all keeping with the time, it is not mine to keep.

Befriend science

*

CHANNELING

It’s a full feeling to be a channel.

Only an empty feeling when it’s blocked

At the base of my spine

And God can’t go to my head.

The river flows through me and my banks will hold

Excuses dam me up

And leave a dry and lifeless basin

With tributaries taxed for uselessness.

Staying in the groove conveys my Higher Powers will

Without need of my furrowed brow.

A hose with no water running

Is a place for spiders to spin.

If I shut off the service I am a breeding ground

For creeping sadness and shocking misery

Compliance allow me the view

Of flowing strength and rushing joy

The greatest of which is living with intent.

Dewy, Cheatum & Howe

August 20

Dewy, Cheatum & Howe

I must radically sever the close connection I have with self-seeking, self-pity and dishonesty. What will I use to pay the retainer for the representation I will need to pursue this divorce? Willingness is the earnest money, which will start the ball rolling, hard work pitches in its share and faith pays the note each day I apply it. All this and more is what it takes to divide the endless stream of my compulsive thought into a survivable days worth of life. I have the prospect of being happy as a divorcee or I could be a miserable widow if I stay wed to my disease.

Try not to be the exception to everything

*

PROMISE BROKEN

If promise shatters without anyone touching it,

If it pops like a floating soap bubble that lost cohesion,

What do I do--name names--I can’t even take fingerprints.

Sometimes dreams just end--no fault or blame is attached.

The ice breaks under its own weight

And nothing can be done.

I am more than just holding on.

I am alive even if all the promises melt away.

I can accept the unexpected and unasked for.

I know this doesn’t affect my worth.

My value is intact regardless of disappointment or discontent.

I have learned that anticipation is mere amusement.

Promises are pleasantries

.

I am made of stronger stuff.

I am not broken by words, ideas or hope.

Promise can be broken

But it doesn’t break me.

Endlessly Moving Maps

August 19

Endlessly Moving Maps

I try to survive by memorizing the chaos. I do well up to five layers deep and then lose it, as the details become too great. I am staking my life on my ability to track the patterns in a storm while at the same time treading water. I think this skill kept life and breathe in me for many years, but now I fear I’ll drown in this roiling mass. I must touch down my tender toes and learn to walk this twisting path and keep a pace with this spinning world. Everything moves and I am overwhelmed. I have forgotten my flesh and blood nature; have mistaken myself for a stone, one which dare not roll, one which has no part in this endlessly moving map.

Be honest with your toes

*

SATISFACTION

Satisfaction is like a marble in my pocket.

Formed when correctness was still red hot

And my sponsor rolled my mind until I was whole.

I sigh and square my shoulders

I know I am up to any task.

I am skilled with my tools and know well the talents

Of my intimates and helpmates.

I am not invincible but I am capable.

I value who and what I am today.

I sleep the sleep of a person

Not a hostage or captor, I am me.

I have a marble in my pocket

And it reminds me of the world.

I have a world within me

Knowing how to live with that

Is a great satisfaction.

Blind Man's Bluff

August 18

Blind Man’s Bluff

Turning your head to see doesn’t help when you have a blind eye. All the rotation in the world won’t restore your sight. Addressing life problems with a solution involving spin is counter productive and sometimes counter clockwise to boot. If I find I just can’t see, then maybe it’s time to listen better and compensate for my shortcoming through some other action. Turning away doesn’t help and walking away is worse. When I am blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other stepping up to the plate may not be an option, but I still need to find a way to stay in the game.

Molt bad ideas

*

PUBLIC PRIVACY

My public privacy is protected

By my smile not my scowl.

Maintaining boundaries as I travel

The common areas of life

Is more readily accomplished

By a pleasant demeanor than a dark stare.

I have used negative attitude

And found myself outside of my own protection.

The buoyancy of my manner keeps surface tension

A natural and acceptable reality.

Hooded behavior drags every interaction

Into suspicion.

When I make part of my business

To put others at ease

It is easier for me to preserve

My business as my own.

Go where it's warm

August 17

Go where it’s warm

The intangible rightness of cohesion is difficult to explain. What is it that makes a group congregating into a congregation? What makes a rag tag tousle into a home group? It is the thing I yearn for, but dare not chase. I know this too makes a grub into a butterfly, yet private transformation seems necessary, where the change of masses is gratuitous. A thousand geese fly overhead; arrows of individual miracles, pointing the way to the meaning of it all.

Score your rhythm so you can reflect the music of your soul

*

THE DREAMER

What about the dreamer?

What about her, responds my sponsor.

You ask me about her like I was the one

Who pushed her off the cliff.

Are you saying I pushed her,

I questioned my sponsor.

Yes, that is just what I am saying.

Do you need me to sing it?

You wanted the dreamer to fly off,

To safety and happiness

And wanted her to take you with her.

In an attempt to grab hold of her ankles

And propel her to heaven

You threw her off the precipice.

Now she is broken and bleeding

Far from your sight

Your dreamer is damaged

And you ask about her?

Do you want to know what you did

And how to remedy it

Or were you looking to duck responsibility?

QUACK------

Single Serving Sterling

August 16

Single Serving Sterling

When the menu of life feels vast I must focus on my teaspoon; a simple tool that fits well in my hand, whose use I well understand. The possibilities conceived when I ponder the intangibles conspire to suck me down the rabbit-hole where all that’s left to me is a drug. When I come back to stir my tea and lick the spoon clean the world revolves around me and without need of my completed unified theory. Need looms, loss stacks, salvation keeps a steady distance, my only hope is to drink my tea, I shan’t even sharpen my spoon; I can and need to stay out of my fear built prison and off the streets of hell. My task is at hand and the size of the scoop is a reminder to take all of life in small doses.

Treat hope as a living thing; feed its hunger, quench its thirst

*

NATURAL LAW

Gravity is always in effect

But invoke the laws of lift

And you can make a stone fly.

I have no gills

But strap on a tank and rebreather

And I can share space with the sharks.

Given enough willingness and step work

I can walk through the world sober

Though every cell of my body is alcoholic.

The laws of nature are fluid

When I flow with them I can keep my goals.

Instant gratification is often my stumbling block.

Gaining access to my far-flung desires

Is not impossible

But it is also not immediate.

The Dark Fanstatic

August 15

The Dark Fantastic

When the tornado touches down worry ends; the anticipation is over and thought stops. Tragedy is funny that way. In the aftermath I find out what mattered and what didn’t; whether I have helped or injured myself trying to plan for the worst. I fail to realize there are cloud filled days when nothing happens and days when trouble comes from out of the blue. What matters ultimately is if I was happy yesterday all the way into today until the thunder struck. Greed is not: living for today; greed is my attempt at gathering the future while dragging the past.

Compel your brilliance to shine

*

AUTUMN

The falling leaves slap my hand

As I ride the road at fifty mile per

My arm dangling.

Exposed they stand stark,

Stripped naked to the soul.

The growth of this years yearnings on the fringe.

I can follow this lead

Remove pretence not clothing

Stand before all who have an interest in seeing me.

Unashamed of my wants and the things I reach for

I can cast off the uniform of evolution

And enjoy a long winter of truth.

Participant Observer

August 14

Participant Observer

Underneath it all I am more than naked; I am hidden by exposure. My body can never be as nude as life with you in my thoughts. My mind is a polygraph you wander through. I have determined this is more than safe and unlock the closets. You are not my warden looking for contraband, nor the janitor looking for trash, you are here; you are my friend having a better look around simply to know me better and to love me well. Your unfamiliar stride is exciting, I show off the places I long for you to see and stand aside from the rest; it is all yours to look through. I do not resist. You are my peaceful guardian; I am your willing charge.

Sit with impatience and sooth it

*

CAMPAIGN

Sobriety is the Santa Clause that brings delightful gifts

Which make me smile.

Recovery is the Gene

Which comes from staying out of bottles.

The Jin makes treasure possible

But doesn’t bring it to the door.

The ads and billboards of illusion built a world of booze

But no hope for a real life.

I have learned to turn from all the lies of picking up

And live in the possibilities which open

Only when I put down the drink and the thinking.

I don’t need to pin up stockings

Or rub lamps, just take direction

And make willingness my campaign.

Participant Observer

August 14

Participant Observer

Underneath it all I am more than naked; I am hidden by exposure. My body can never be as nude as life with you in my thoughts. My mind is a polygraph you wander through. I have determined this is more than safe and unlock the closets. You are not my warden looking for contraband, nor the janitor looking for trash, you are here; you are my friend having a better look around simply to know me better and to love me well. Your unfamiliar stride is exciting, I show off the places I long for you to see and stand aside from the rest; it is all yours to look through. I do not resist. You are my peaceful guardian; I am your willing charge.

Sit with impatience and sooth it

*

CAMPAIGN

Sobriety is the Santa Clause that brings delightful gifts

Which make me smile.

Recovery is the Gene

Which comes from staying out of bottles.

The Jin makes treasure possible

But doesn’t bring it to the door.

The ads and billboards of illusion built a world of booze

But no hope for a real life.

I have learned to turn from all the lies of picking up

And live in the possibilities which open

Only when I put down the drink and the thinking.

I don’t need to pin up stockings

Or rub lamps, just take direction

And make willingness my campaign.

Phillips Head

August 13

Phillips Head

What’s stuck in makes the thing. What sticks out is all that’s seen. I can tell so much from what is left out, yet there is much I will never know, can never tell. The twist, the give, the opening to variation is known, but never acknowledged. Somehow indecent if spoken or thought of too loudly, insinuation is ignored and society allows us to focus on what is held after or due to this act. We have built the whole world on what we can screw together, but we will merely hallow this, never embrace the fact until it falls apart. Then we exclaim over the rawness of how it caused us to be turned around, the risk and wrongness, ignoring just how much good can come from just a simple screw.

Acknowledge rain clouds as puddles on lay-away

*

MEETING INVENTORY

The manicurist at the meeting sits and does her nails.

The discussion goes on around her as she files away.

Cell phones go off for people

Who can’t put their lives on hold for their sobriety.

The knitter knits.

And the dissenters dissent.

The chatting chickens and grumbling grouse

All these populate the meeting.

It has taken the first half of the hour

To take everyone else’s inventory.

I have the remaining thirty to take my own.

Seen on the Street

August 12

Seen on the Street

Sometimes graffiti improves a place, other times it degrades it. I now wonder; is this defined by the breaking or breaching of public norms? Or is it built from the intent of the artist/perpetrator? Possibly the pedestrian traffic or the light of day determine the difference between art and recalcitrance. What if all these factors flashing like a neon kaleidoscope facilitated what this all really means? What if it all signifies nothing other than yet another way for me to entertain my brain while avoiding work? I guess I better get back to the spray cans I have a wall to cover.

Open your mind to unusual collaboration

*

THE TEAM

The dream sobriety I envision,

The fantasy recovery I mentally construct,

Blows out to sea as so much mist

In the face of actual life.

Setting out sports teams, which don’t exist

Is playful and entertaining.

Trying to rebuild the principals of the program

Is a delusion I can drink over.

Finessing my network and pretending I can put together a team

On a basis of specialized talents instead of ground level willingness

Is like designing a plane without regard to physics

Playing only to esthetics.

Anytime I am redesigning

I must realize I am no longer participating

If I keep my head in the game

I can stay away from statistics and stop planning outcomes.

T before S

August 11

T before S

When happiness is hard work I have to learn to look for the lie. There must be a lie for happiness flows unrestrained when not dammed. What was built too far up river for me to see, dries out my once liquid existence; leaving me to flounder in the shallows. I can’t allow myself to flop in the muck of waters muddied with deceit. I will permit myself to look for clear bright prospects from melting glaciers and accustom myself to the invigoration of a life lived under a loving watchful eye.

Keep water near by

*

KILLER SQUIRRELS

AND OTHER SOBER DRAMA

I can tell you stories to make your hair curl.

Death defying fifth steps,

Speaking commitments with microphoned podiums,

Sponsees with killer squirrels trapped in the house.

The courage and sheer determination

Needed to face plague, after crisis, after pestilence

And yet sober mind and willing heart these travails

Are surmounted and we live on.

Tears turn to laughter with rescue and remedy

How strong we feel as the cape is passed

When one time panic prone sponsees

Become the model of calm and stable sponsors.

Hoards of relatives at holidays,

Interaction with bankers, police officers

And all manner of people in shiny shoes

Are handled with grace and boundaries.

Porch loving skunks, children becoming teenagers,

Are faced with humor and wit.

Things which in years gone by would have sent us screaming

To the phone are now casual asides during after meeting discussion.

Life does keep spinning on

But we learn how to stand still.

T before S

August 11

T before S

When happiness is hard work I have to learn to look for the lie. There must be a lie for happiness flows unrestrained when not dammed. What was built too far up river for me to see, dries out my once liquid existence; leaving me to flounder in the shallows. I can’t allow myself to flop in the muck of waters muddied with deceit. I will permit myself to look for clear bright prospects from melting glaciers and accustom myself to the invigoration of a life lived under a loving watchful eye.

Keep water near by

*

KILLER SQUIRRELS

AND OTHER SOBER DRAMA

I can tell you stories to make your hair curl.

Death defying fifth steps,

Speaking commitments with microphoned podiums,

Sponsees with killer squirrels trapped in the house.

The courage and sheer determination

Needed to face plague, after crisis, after pestilence

And yet sober mind and willing heart these travails

Are surmounted and we live on.

Tears turn to laughter with rescue and remedy

How strong we feel as the cape is passed

When one time panic prone sponsees

Become the model of calm and stable sponsors.

Hoards of relatives at holidays,

Interaction with bankers, police officers

And all manner of people in shiny shoes

Are handled with grace and boundaries.

Porch loving skunks, children becoming teenagers,

Are faced with humor and wit.

Things which in years gone by would have sent us screaming

To the phone are now casual asides during after meeting discussion.

Life does keep spinning on

But we learn how to stand still.