Leaves in a Pile

October 30

LEAVES IN A PILE

As a great pile of dry leaves, lay the problem.  Running through it to show my disrespect accomplishes nothing but to scatter my dilemma and widen the area of distress.  Covering and composting only allows the burden to indwell, leaching into that which feeds my soul.  Burning puts it in the air I breathe.  There is no galaxy far off enough to keep its reflection from my face.  Attack, flight, banishment?  No!  Insulation, conversion, contortion?  No!  I pursue none of these; I can not control things exterior.  I can not feed my power, light and life into the pile.  I have only one goal: not to become the problem.  Not to dry or dehydrate.  Not to fall from my hope and collect in the road.  My goal is to hold fast to hope and serve as conduit and companion to a life bigger than mine alone.

Practice little words like ‘oh’, and ‘hum’

*

Entrenched

I have dug myself a trench

and invited my friends and family.

Truth is, I drug many and tricked others

and there they are in the trench

I have so recently climbed out of.

It is a nasty place and I feel horribly responsible,

but here is the sacred truth;

I can’t climb down there again,

not even on a rescue mission.

I am obligated to help them, this is for sure,

but the fact still remains that it is not safe

to get into the water with a drowning person,

even if I am the one who caused the drowning.

If I am to be of any help at all I must get my footing

and keep it safely on the bank

and only then might I be able to throw down a rope

or lend a hand to anyone, especially those I love.

I pray for the sturdy stance of helpful strangers

and try my best to cause no further harm,

more than that will have to wait

until my cleats are soundly lodged into the earth

and my head is squarely upon my shoulders,

for headlong and mud covered I am no help.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Pieces of Sky

October 29

PIECES OF SKY

The sky falls in pieces and clutters around my feet.  Scattered are the moon, stars and sun.  Fear and desire have consumed all the rest.  Great tides of resentment wash away reality and replace it with illusion and propaganda.  What am I to do when want drives the course?  Satisfaction is unknown; the luminous butterfly I believed extinct has not yet come to me.  I leave the shards of life to tinkle as I stumble through them and forget to ask for wings of sweet contentment from unexplored realms.  Paper dreams burn with fervor; I peer to see what stands behind.  The gracious weather carries me as a seed to a vaulted canopy, celestial spaces, buoyant and fertile.  I will grow away from the rarefied fragments of unrealistic vistas, sinking roots deep in cohesion and truth.  Pieces of sky melt to rainbows; home is the nature of things.

Jingle your intellectual change.

*

On a Half-shell in Front of Tiffany’s

Pretty petty pearls wait in oysters

more perturbed than annoyed.

I string my tears for the sake of posterity

leaving the dreams to fend for themselves.

I am nothing if not splendidly prepared

for a life less steeped in wishes than realism.

Opening volleys tell a tale of round irritation,

but I am not finished just yet.

Joy comes from surpassing obstacles

and wearing healed grief

as precious gems around my neck.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Archimedes Put a Boulder in my Path

October 28

ARCHIMEDES PUT A BOULDER IN MY PATH

Place a lever under the boulder and press down, never so hard as to warp the lever.  Move the pivot and push under in a new place.  Keep doing this until you have pushed deeply and well from every aspect of the boulder in your path.  This works every time, not because it dislodges the boulder but because it somehow changes me.  The path may also appear different and often the boulder drops from view.  It may not be gone but seems less intractable.  My life goes on.  I have found it important to retain my lever and pivot; there is never just one boulder.

Invent a new greeting.

*

To Your Health

Health is a pleasure;

health restored is celebration

girded with gratitude.

The shock of illness quickly imbeds itself

to an irrefutable unchangeable fact.

When this veil is lifted the body responds with glee,

the soul with relief touched with disbelief.

The satisfaction of being hale is the bedrock

and once this is shaken

its return is nothing more than astonishing.

I am never more aware of the miraculous nature of life

than when I feel alive once more

after having felt the doom of sickness.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Slipstream

October 27

SLIPSTREAM

I look in the rearview mirror; I see the headliner and a river of road flowing out behind me.  Dual viewing is the kind gift of hindsight.  I can see my internal workings and the past laid bare.  The beauty and sadness can transfix me.  I will lose my way if I keep looking back.  I catch glimpses and move my eyes forward.  I can’t advance without a full vision so I remain grateful for the mirror.  Awareness and cognition, the brakes and gas, I have the full package; I just have to make sure to steer.

Tell a joke to a cat.

*

Picard

The little tin whistle I yearn to play

squeaks in my head

warning that I have no time to learn

and a tin whistle though slender is not easy.

I think if I had a magic wrinkler for time I might learn,

I remember characters that have, but I rethink this

and remember I don’t want to win the lottery again.

I am too good at too many things

and have no time to enjoy their full round pleasure.

I have no need for additional longing or extended guilt.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Fish of Chaos

October 26

FISH OF CHAOS

Out of chaos come very tiny fish, well, maybe not fish but a very swimmy feeling.  How can I go around with my feet off the ground, my mind racing on a squirrel cage?  Breathing helps, breathing is someplace to start.  Once I get breathing regularly, I can gingerly probe with one foot for a place to stand.  The chaos may race around and past my legs like so many eels on a summer’s evening, but with time and practice I can step from this current as well.  Out of chaos come very tiny fish, but I can come out, too.

Wring out every drop from your books.

*

Circuit Speaker

It isn’t until I listen long to the Northside poet

that I realize there is such a thing as a Chicago accent.

I hear it as I never have before.

I don’t hear it in my beloved Rodger,

hear only the hope he brings to share.

As I get ready to walk to the podium

I wish that no one hears the Jersey in my voice

only the experience I bring to share.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Abundance of Water

October 25

ABUNDANCE OF WATER

Waterfalls fail the catch basin and run off to make mud slide from the hills.  Power showers down, but the channels it uses are not always beneficial.  High tide with the push of tsunami wipes out the coast.  Water is the stuff of life, but God forbid it gets out of control, there is no living with it.  I cannot regulate the weather but today I have a plan.  I don’t have to stand out waiting to see how much will come down.  I may not have every contingency covered; I do have a backup for the worse than average season.  Yes, I did dig myself a French-drain, but I started by not living on the flood plain.

Travel in your own good company.

*

Basket Ball

Idiots out number poets, this is a fact,

though I do wonder why.

It cannot be an easy lot spending your days

in slow witted discharge;

I would think they might at least try putting pen to paper.

I think I would rather live in a world filled with bad poets

than drifting on this ship of fools,

The troubadours rise with imbeciles as their cover

and poems fall from favor.

I wonder how I could make verse a contagion,

how could I make it spread?

You may laugh at me, but think what some guy did

with a broken peach basket and a rubber ball.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Birth of an Apple

October 24

BIRTH OF AN APPLE

When an apple gives birth what is the result?   Seed or sauce?  Crunch or crisp?  The act of creation is so much an act of sacrifice, how can it be limited to only one kind of delivery?  The children of effort produce fruit of their own; who am I to call them other than my kin?  How many times have I thrown over bluster for blizzard?  But snow is snow.  I can accept every squall if I keep clear and willing.  I may finish my days in a winter orchard if I spend my life picking not choosing.

Keep two lists: what you want and what you have.

*

Behind Closed Doors

The children of happy fathers make no sense to me.

I have known no such peace.

What is it to live in a world where there is a man

who likes you, someone who approves?

I feel like my chin would have always been out there to see,

no ducking, no need to hide,

had there been a good man to whom I could turn.

The dark circles under the eyes of my soul make me old,

old and different from those kids, mere children,

safe in a home with a happy man whose joy it is to be their Dad.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Waiting for the Recovery of Others

October 23

WAITING FOR THE RECOVERY OF OTHERS

I sit on my hands and wait for these bright pennies to earn the lessons of time.  I dance my little dance and move on, dropping the pretense of patience.  I search other forests, fields, and meetings and encounter many fine plums, though none are the gems incubating at home.  I make acceptance my goal and breathe through my days.  I watch the bulbs ripen and bloom.  I wonder at their beauty, inhale their sweetness.  I have lost track of my personal progress.  I behold, with charmed dismay, the open chasm before me.  I must turn from the flowers and let the new lessons begin.

Don’t show your broken places to everyone, but do show them to someone.

*

Spectrum

The quality of the poetry

is so dependent on the quality of the lighting.

Improve the color palette and yes, you’ve guessed the result.

So, I say to you, “Turn up the lights.

Do not write in half-dark grief and limp through the words.

Spotlight what you can and illuminate the rest.

You needn’t make a sound,

needn’t pitch a tent, needn’t build a bridge,

though you may, may if you wish.

And wish is what I do, wish for better light

and when the clouds break loose in the sky let the sun pour in.

I lift my pen and make it all;

for what was needed was this better light.”

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

The Privilege of Sunrise

October 22

THE PRIVILEGE OF SUN RISE

I wake, happily, at 5:30.  I will again see the show beyond compare.  In stark contrast to the mornings I filled with moping or sober angst, shades of the same dark color, I shuck my covers, bathing and dressing with purpose, and propel myself forward.  I hate to miss the first act.  Dawn, the tint of clouds dusky and sweet.  I’m on my route; I start my open-eyed prayer.  For all those living at the hands of an addict, Be with them.  Please.  For the addicts, help us all to fail fast.

I scan the horizon, checking all the views.  I reflect on the striking change, earthbound green and gold, sky held pink, orange and blue.  The silhouettes of trees exquisitely lit from behind, the sweet moon sharing the sunrise with me, add to the pleasure of my drive.  I start my gratitude list.  Beginning with my sobriety...each moment, the people, the life, the thinking, the feeling, and my ability to share it all with you.

Don’t become overly fond of nothingness for it may consume you.

*

Jacks

Born crazy, is that better than becoming deranged?

Do birth affects excuse my unrepentant glee?

Does irrepressible sardonic wit

explain the order of restless exposition?

Can you count on Cicadic enthusiasm to carry me,

or flightless fancy to keep me down?

I am beyond redemption, beyond reception, beyond device.

I arrived riddled with chaotic cracks,

but I am more than just a glaze

and deep down I’m more than sound,

So walk with my wild side

and your thoughts I’ll rearrange.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Reflections of You

October 21

REFLECTIONS OF YOU

When people meet me they listen and stare, then the familiar words tumble from their mouths, “there is something about you.”  I know it’s the reflection of every person I saw at the meeting last night, the sober voices that created them, also the mirror of years spent in rooms just the same.  I know this is what is seen in me.  The bright light shines on me and the prism of time fans the colors to my new acquaintance.  I thank my Higher Power for letting me be a spectral instrument and I am grateful to the fellowship for shining the light on and through me.

Recycle absolutes into planters.

*

Canine Comprehension

I wonder what it is that the dog knows.

True love, quantum physics,

the ratio of lift to thrust required to make the ball fly,

how food shared from my plate

is better than food from her bowl.

This begs the next question.

What do I really know; song lyrics, nursery rhymes,

old scores from old grudges?

What I hope I have learned;

is the space it takes to keep an open mind,

the willingness required to make a real change,

and the width, depth and breath of honest affection.

If I haven’t learned these things

I will put them at the top of my list of things to do.

Because I believe I can teach this old dog a few new tricks.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Walking Joy Home

October 20

WALKING JOY HOME

I make sure to walk joy home not because I doubt her ability to find it alone, rather because it gives me extra time with her.  I used to fear joy, that I would be intoxicated by her presence and lose my well-hardened grasp on realism.  Now I see that without joy in my life there is no realism, that it was only cynicism masquerading in its place.  Joy is simple and unassuming.  I often confuse her with ecstasy and scoot away in shy terror.  Joy is nice to have around.  She is not just a party animal; sometimes I invite her over for a cup of tea.  When we are done I take the winding path to savor every step up to her door.

If you can’t lay down your burden move it from hand to hand.

*

Resilience

When I experience trauma or drama

my heart and soul return to the toddler state;

I feel the urge to stay up and push forward.

I resist help and rest.

I try to override animal need in favor of intellectual prowess.

Bleary eyed and red-faced, I soldier on,

only managing to make my life  into a ceaseless fight.

My charm and wit wear thin; then wear out.

I need to recharge my batteries,

need to hit reset and restore my default settings.

It is hard for me to accept that I must lie down

in order to get up again.

Restoration is impossible to achieve from my battle stance.

Resilience is a bouncing ball.

What I want to rise I must first throw down.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Marmalade

October 19

MARMALADE

Marmalade, bitter and sweet, spread across my spiritual toast; zest and sticky solution mix and cover the surface.  I bite down taking in the start of my day.  Past this point anything is possible, fame or disaster, a dreary fog-filled morning or cloudless afternoon.  Seeing the passing populous, I alternately advance and retreat from this human wall.  Response and responsibility tattletale their way to my reactionary will.  The tightrope sways over river of potential; balance is more than a desire, it is a necessity.  So I enjoy my breakfast tea and watch the marmalade melt as I dip my bread in my well-steeped brew.  The parade will start soon enough; I need this time before I launch into the fray.

Start a fire in your mind.

*

Self Importance

When I am over sensitive and everything

that everyone does looms large for me,

I am more likely to think

that I am a driving force in the lives of others.

It’s a funny connection in the same way

that when I scratch the dogs tummy her foot paddles;

when I am not getting my needs met

I tend to believe I am in this world

to meet the needs of others.

Often when in this mindset I also delude myself further

to worry that I may be the only person

who can help these other people.

I have been training myself to throw a flag

on any and all plays where I am that important.

I try to bring all action to a stop

and get right sized about who I am

and how important I am and to whom and why.

It’s not that I don’t have value,

I have the same value as everyone else,

but when I shortchange my needs and my feelings,

over responsibility to others mushrooms

and this is not good for anyone; me least of all.

As with most things,

if I find out what is right for me

it tends to be right for those around me,

even if I can’t see that at the time.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

My Heroine

October 18

MY HEROINE

The corpse that is my childhood is mine to protect from the wolves and rats of denial and collusion.  The infant who commits suicide in self-defense is my heroine.  The pure thinking of an uncluttered mind seizes on the only possible way for me to survive.  Her death at her own hand is my rescue.  If the bad had killed her I would have died with her.  In her plan, I was left as the seed she ejected in her assent.  She is gone from this place; I feel her only as the wisp of memory.  The tiny body laid flat on the carpet, her pressed pinafore somehow more alive than she, is the unfinished business of prevention.  As long as I see her there and do not walk away from my responsibility and never forget she protected me with the life she never lived, I am free to live this life.

Throw ice cubes up for God to catch.

*

Earl Grey is not my Friend

Scabby knees is what I look for;

I need to be with those who climb,

not those who slide.

I hate to say it, but looking cool

and sitting on the sidelines

does nothing for me or my sobriety.

I have to build those calluses,

require patches in my clothes,

carry a hammer to pound in those spikes.

If I don’t see tools in your hands

and bodily evidence that you have been using them,

I really don’t have time for you.

This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me

and if it isn’t for you then have fun

and I hope you have a good seat,

but I am not staying for your tea party;

I have no time for tarts.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Fishing for Contentment

October 17

FISHING FOR CONTENTMENT

Fishing for contentment is a wonderful pastime but what is used for bait?  Is there a delicacy to dangle before contentment to lure it into my life?  Can I crumble the best biscotti and leave a trail to my door?  I don’t believe contentment swims around waiting to be caught.  I think it’s more like the wild yeast that finds its way to my starter.  If I put the ingredients in my life, contentment will rise to the occasion.

Renew your own understanding of the word NO.

*

Where do I live?

Fleeter of foot is my goal.

I race to catch the prize thoroughbreds as they flee.

I play chase, I win, I lose, I fall in the mud, I break my leg.

None of this does anything for the horses either,

they are loose and confused;

off  like a shot, but nowhere to go.

I buy better shoes, hire a trainer,

put reflective tack on the stallions and the mares.

In short I go broke.

I had the world of possibilities before me and it ran away;

all because I didn’t close the barn door.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Hide and Seek

October 16

HIDE AND SEEK

I have sought You high and low, but like the rain, You have always found me.  I, like a cold, wet cat on a winter’s day, peer into warm lit windows hoping You will be home.  I seek, to keep me moving.  You find me for some unknown reason.  I have given up naming You.  I trust You know who you are, in spite of the fact I do not.  You are places I don’t know and doing things I think better of.  Citing the list of errands I daily make for You, not to beleaguer You, but the unfinished list of history trails out of my pocket, and I worry I may possess Your only copy of this injustice list.  There have been days of peace, days I don’t think too much, days I turn away from my history lessons and future projections.  My ultimate problem is with the equal sign.  I run the numbers and it figures inequity.  I check my calculations and shake the calculator of my mind.  Deeply, I fear You’re a one god and do not comprehend the implications of zero.  If you multiply with only things above the naught, You may be unaware of nothingness, the empty things I feel when I can’t seem to find You.  Self-possessed, insensitive of the cipher, Your dimensions stay positive.  Bring me into Your realm or join me in the void.  I seek You, but You have found me.

Weigh your demands and don’t let them tip your scale.

*

Bowman Beach

The swirl with the flash of teeth

that I backed away from turned out to be dolphin,

but that didn’t make me safer,

strangers are strangers no matter who their PR team is.

When I am out of my element fear grows long leads

and I am bound by these limits.

Who I am under new circumstances

is a discovery I make as time flies by.

Can I swim and play with exuberance

or will I drown trying to catch up?

I am able and disabled,

the line is tied from the back and I don’t know its length.

I unreel as much slack as I can and test my reach,

but still I must keep my wary eye and be careful of the deep.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Rejection

October 15

REJECTION

Rejection is a game of endurance, a boundary enhancing process, a test of survival.  Rejection sought or unsought is a challenge.  Sometimes rejection is a flare lighting the need for a change of tactics or direction.  Though, it is hard to view rejection as a beacon rather than condemnation.  Rejection is also the counterbalance for acceptance.  Risk is nothing if rejection is not part of the equation.  I cannot value a yes if you could not say no.  Rejection is the safety valve when putting myself in situations where I don’t belong.  I get sent back to the world of possibilities when the kindness of rejection ejects me from the wrong choice.

Look at the keyhole then look at the key.

*

Autonomic

Alcoholics in isolation go no place good.

Isolation is too expensive to keep;

whether it is a bad habit or worse.

How I hold to a receding thing such as this?

I am amazed that I accomplish this difficult task

and fear my ability to do something simple like breathe.

I wonder often why destruction is so seductive when life is fine.

Yet, I hear the cloying whispers of lonely isle shores,

I must bind myself to friendship

and hold firm to companions for the water is no place for me,

I have forgone my once liquid life.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

My Moon

October 14

MY MOON

I anticipate the crowning of your face as you birth the sky.  Your rhythmic visitation sates me.  The gravity of my need keeps you close.  The tide of my heart pulls you from shore to shore.  We live in the sweet ecstasy of tethered love, our souls slingshotting across the open palm of heaven.  Your empathy for me transforms these shards of ice to a tender heart… satelliting.  I orbit you empowered by your kindness.  You are my moon.

Paint your face and print your profile.

*

Fair Fish

Tiny thoughts ping pong around my head

hoping to win a goldfish,

but what do I need with a five dollar fish?

How often do I pay too dearly,

for what is merely an animated ornament?

When I falter in self-esteem

I look to decorate my life through hostage taking

and other unfair practices.

I know I want to feel safe,

know that hiding gives the illusion of that.

It’s like the joke told about banging sticks

to keep the tigers away.

Does it work?  Yes, of course

as long as you are in a place with no tigers.

I can distract myself,

but I can not distract life;

life goes on and takes me with it, no matter my disguise.

Given this I can either spend my time

with a blindfold and a cigarette waiting for the end

or walk the midway and go ride the tilt-a-whirl.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Battleship

October 13

BATTLESHIP

If the first is a guess, what is the second?  Paranoia? Or worse?  Action is a blessing, reaction a debilitation, and to twist from reaction to self-doubt sinks the battle and the battleship.  When I can’t make sense, the gift is stepping back.  Better to put my hand down than to lose the farm.  When I find myself in a minefield, I can walk gingerly or wait for aide from above, air rescue or other.  The option of rethinking every step sets me dancing; the tune, which begins this hurky jerky polka of death, stems from the metronome of criticism playing in my ear.  When I am overwhelmed with critique I give up acceptance of chance or the joy of spontaneity, throwing myself into a pit of apprehension.  I am safer being wrong occasionally than unsure forever.

Study an old map and find a new way.

*

Message with no Bottle

I found a note while I was cleaning the art cupboard.

It was written in my hand.

I don’t remember writing it, or thinking it for that matter.

The note said,

“Total disregard for the survival of your soul”

and I have no idea if it was a warning or a suggestion;

a place to start or a destination at which not to arrive.

If it was written during one of those dark days

it could be the former,

I hope it is the latter;

a sign post on my recovery road.

I bring it out here to write to you about it,

share it and take me to a place

where I am no longer alone with this flyer.

I sit down to the keyboard

lift the note to read it again with care.

I scan the edges for clues

and see that it is a memo sheet torn in half.

When I flip it, on the back I see,

“2 loaves & 5 fishes to feed a multitude”

and though I may not believe in that miracle

I do believe in this one.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Joy is Not Enough

October 12

JOY IS NOT ENOUGH

I was driving around in my car, eating a meltingly ripe persimmon.  On the radio came a fiddle-playing band performing their rendition of In The White Room.  I was traveling with the three drafts of my first step, version one consisting of 690-some words and the final consisting of only four.  Joy is not enough.  That’s it.  The whole thing.  Today my life is unmanageable due to the fact, having a balanced life, feeling my wide range of feelings including joy, is not sufficient to eliminate the pain and damage of the past.  My horrific childhood has not healed, has not mended seamlessly.  I have joy today, every day at some point, in proportion to my sober choices.

I fail to realize the promise doesn’t say heal the past; it says I will not regret the past.  I don’t, at least not any of the choices I made.  Other peoples’ choices are not mine to regret, so I can’t do that for them.  I will not wish to shut the door on the past, and I don’t wish to.  I want it healed.  I may not get my wish.  Just because I am doing my part to heal the past doesn’t make anyone else do it.  I can’t strong-arm the perpetrators into recovery the way they strong-armed me into abuse.

Joy is not enough, but it’s a hell of a start.

Lend your assets; keep your defects home.

*

Matching

“Matching calamity for serenity,”

is a task requiring attentive diligence.

Each tragedy has its unique blast pattern

and necessitates a precisely cut cure.

Coverage is one concern and depth is another,

the weight of the healing atmosphere

must equal the corrosive depletion caused by ruin.

I have to make available the wound

in order to receive the remedy;

anytime I camouflage or barricade my injury

I have eliminated the opportunity for a corresponding solution.

Knowing this fact

and answering it with right action is the job of a lifetime,

but I cannot think of a more productive use of my time.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Deny One, Deny the Other

October 11

DENY ONE, DENY THE OTHER

If you want to deny the problem, by necessity you must deny the solution.  Resolving a problem whose existence is rejected creates a split in the crust of collusion.  Oftentimes, the convolution and reconvolution of addiction causes a bloated roiling mass that rolls through the streets of sanity.  How can a wedge be cut in a creature so dense?  How can I work on piecing together remedies when I am readily assured by fellow sufferers there is NO DIS-EASE?  Can I trust my personal depletions?  Can I employ faith to a resolution when faith is utilized to fortify the contagion I’m told doesn’t exist?  But if not faith, what?

Count out all the buttons in your box.

*

Alarm

I have lived life like one long fire drill.

Is there smoke?  Not always, but I fear flames.

The alarm in my head is with me always

and I walk from my life single file and silent.

I don’t move on, this is only a drill,

‘I don’t want to take drastic action, this will pass,’

is my constant thought,

though, I can not remember a time without the buzz.

I have stood outside my life so long

practicing in case of an emergency

that there is no life to protect.

I have been conscientious to the point

of being consumed by caution.

Balance requires risk.

I must be brave enough to have it all.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Also a Gift

October 10

ALSO A GIFT

Sadness is as life affirming as joy, but in the same way that people eat together but defecate alone, joy is encouraged in public and sadness is a private matter.  Happiness is embraced and discouragement relegated, even though personal experience shows disappointment is often a point of growth.  What beauty and change stem from disillusion, but still it is hard to look directly at grief and not flinch away.  The temptation to feign pleasure and leave sadness swept under the carpet is strong.  It is an unwelcome job to be the defender of grief, a job that should be unnecessary, in the same way that the valley between the mountains is unnecessary to defend.  We are not giants who can step from one mountaintop to the next.

Try a new game for body, mind and laughs.

*

Ping Pong Balls and Possession

I keep an aquarium with a goldfish on my counter

and sometimes he splashes my work

proving to me that the thing I think I have contained

often has a mind of its own.

I have heard that goldfish don’t remember much,

but mine always knows which side of the tank

provides him a view of me.

Memory may be reflexive.

Assumption possibly is as well.

I must keep a fresh account of what is within my grasp

and what can swim away.

I have heard the many fish tales

from the part of me that likes to lie.

The scales shimmer and lure me to pretend control

when in truth it is all just a game of chance.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Virginia Creeper

October 9

VIRGINIA CREEPER

In a clearing grows a vine; as seasons change the leaves turn pale.  This type of vine grows throughout the wood, but does it grow pale everywhere or only in the sunlit space?  I see the trembling of the lovely foliage and wonder the destiny of the flora.  Does growth have a will of its own?  Does it grow to the light or is it a must?  Can I turn my face even if Virginia Creeper cannot?  And if I can, should I, just to prove a point?

Keep a spare heart for your overflowing love.

*

The First We

Before powerlessness can be dealt with,

before unmanageability can be faced,

it is imperative that the “WE” is embraced.

It is the first and last job of sobriety.

Initially the human “we” is faced

and finally the I and Thee.

But the full spectrum of “we” is there to allow

the creation of possibilities in my life.

As the human body is 97% water

the recovering alcoholic is 97% “We”.

What I could never do on my own;

We do with ease.

On my own I might not be much

but together We are everything!

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life