July 27
Un-imbedded
This week I have decided to be braver about where I invest
my time, not all of it mind you but a portion of my diligent yet strangely
unproductive time. I have to say I am
realizing that I hide in pretty much every area of my life and that is no way
to live and a really bad example to offer.
The worst thing about hiding is it doesn't keep me safe; it just
subjects me to different evils. It
reminds me of that poor reporter who was imbedded in a tank and he died from
not moving and his blood pooling and dehydration, so the tank kept him from
getting his head shot off, but killed him in a different way, so in the end he
wasn't safe and neither am I. I believe
in prudence as a good policy, I do, but there is much that could make me stronger,
happier, better, if I lift my head a bit and reach out my hand.
Defrost things which freeze you in place
*
Because I even wore out my welcome
at the Mad Hatters house,
I can sit on my hands at my sponsors table
And listen, listen, listen.
If I had been able to make a place for myself
with the looking glass folk
I could never let myself loose my eccentricities
And join in the fellowship.
Going down further than a rabbit hole
I lost my need to chase or scramble after bunnies
For time or card tricks.
No more illusions for me.
I am awake and shaded
by the tree of AA branching over me
Sisters I didn’t know take my hand.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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