Puck Up

February 28

Pucker Up

The gifts I never expected, never knew I needed, never imagined wanting, arrive wrapped in fretful apprehension more often than not.  “Who knew?”  I ask myself standing swathed in a skin I never realized I owned.  My identity has been handed to me an article at a time, each item less likely than the last.  Do they fit, yes of course, fit as if they were made for me, fit because they are me.  My inability to recognize myself is a stumbling block; my willingness to try is my salvation. Though there are times when a kiss is just a kiss, there are other times when a kiss can change the whole world. 

Quarter your difficulties, dice your recriminations

*

YARD BOAT

Early in my life, I lived in a gated yacht club,
The canal passing in front of my home.
I had no boat
I didn't know how to sail
I had not a thought of learning.
In later years, I learned to sail.
I covered the water in choppy tacks
And prayed for safe returns to shore.
Those were the years with a yard boat.
Covered in a tarp, the blue sided craft sat dry
The sun and wind taking their toll
The vessel stayed on the trailer
Waiting to be towed.
At the reservoir it would fill
Water leaking in from every joint.
I would bail and sail with all my heart.
Timing has never been my strong suit.
Rare are the times when all the ingredients
Come together in my life.
I have used this as an excuse
To feel like a failure.
I have used it to blame and dismiss God.
I have used it to avoid pursuit of opportunities.
I have averted my attention from the satisfactions in my life.
Living on the water is a pleasure
And stolen moments tacking in the basin of Round Valley
An equal joy.
Happy with what I have makes MORE a surprise
Not a necessity.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Angle of Return

March16

ANGLE OF RETURN

As in a hall of mirrors, it is sometimes hard to tell if I am moving forward in my recovery.  Likewise, as promises are fulfilled, their obtuse arrival is a quandary.  The juxtaposition of acute homecoming of former faculties is also startling.  How the light finds and reflects itself from sober face to sober face, from open heart to open mind, is the spectral of hope to me.  My soul seeks me day after day though I left it so far behind.  It brings to me the person of God’s intent and my new acquaintance.  Patience, never my virtue, finds me stacked with packages delivered in piles so high I can’t keep up with opening them.  Never in my life have I known less about my future or felt more assured.

Earn your own respect.

*

Suit up, Show up

I stand naked, paralyzed,

unable to reach my intended destination

or any destination at all.

Goose flesh is no real motivation

and I am reluctant to use the prod

having only produced resistance

and reversals with past applications of this weapon.

Entreatment might work

if only I could find the right one;

then again anything might work if it were a fit.

Covering my all-together is an action;

taken judiciously it sometimes is all the arrival I can manage,

taken disingenuously it precludes the chance

for any further forward motion

and may create setback or retreat.

I should not attempt to hide fear with wardrobe

though I can try to warm it.

Façade building is best done with a bottle in tow

reality is best faced with a sponsor by my side.

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 Wall of Pleasant

March 11

THE WALL OF PLEASANT

How quickly I am protected by a sweet smile.  A disarming countenance and a gentle phrase save my skin and psyche.  No longer do I defend my reputation as a wit or critic.  I let it all flow by.  The simpler I appear the more effective the facade.  The energy I conserve not fighting losing battles is well spent in the company of like-minded sober friends in the pursuit of sober lives.  I stay out of the fray and behind this partition.  Its insides are posted with announcements proclaiming my opinion and the lunacy of the person on the other side.  The reading of these notices does not persuade me to dismantle the enclosure but encourages me to keep it sound.  Many years of shelter behind this now vine covered fortification allow restraint of my words, spoken and written, to safeguard my sanity.  When I am gifted with comment, I am spared the desire for credit.  Boundaries are a blessing and living within them a saving grace.

Reconnect to hope.

*

Creed

We have a long standing family tradition

of viewing miracles as tragedy;

this custom has afforded us many

a fine escape from the unknown.

Most things in life are bad; people, places, things,

this belief is protective though useless.

Ultimately I feel this belief is not what colors

the dynastic impression of the miraculous,

but the apprehension is due to the limited nature of the thing.

I come from a line of dissatisfaction;

miracles are provided when what is desired is panacea.

If everything is not imperially resolved

then it is all for naught

Because the same psyche

which cannot begin a process

without a guaranteed outcome

can’t pickup the slack after a triumphant start.

Give it all to me tied with a bow,

I will begin the critique from there

though I will accept, offer me a beginning

fraught with uncertainty and I will decline.

A secure entrenchment is preferred to inexact risk.

I will die with my boots on,

but I mustn’t leave the house.

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 Difference

February 2

THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.  No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly, in the end, if you don’t land it, it’s a fall and if you do, a flight.  How we begin seems of ultimate importance but is seen as a farce in the face of ruin.  The most promising of starts can be sucked groundward, compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through a lack of humility.  Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat.  Willingness is my aileron.  It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain, smoothes  the gusts of life which forever blow in my face, and willingness brings the ground up to meet me.  All I have to do is be willing and stick out my feet.

Use all your words.

*

Know Enough to Clap

If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands,

but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then?

Will my face display telltale signs

without whispering a word of it to my mind?

Will I whistle a happy tune

therefore revealing my inner state?

If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist?

Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion

condemn me to remedial society?

Is there any other society?

If I become well enough to reflexively feel

and exhibit my mood will I graduate

to the advanced class or be forever alone

No longer having a place

amid the emotional head bangers,

hair twirlers and cobweb pickers?

Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation

or confusion with a crowd?

Could I know?  Should I know?  Would I know?

Who knows?

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

Transtions

May 5

TRANSITIONS

During the months of winter, the trees stand tall and leafless---static in their appearance, frozen in direction.  The insurgence of spring brings to life the truth.  The buds and flowers show the draw of their owners---the pull of life from the earth and sky.  Other trees have begun to restore the gifts so graciously given.  These leafless giants open themselves as home and sustenance to the surrounding community---returning favors and flavors, coming to terms with wholeness.  Celebrations of all I have call for me to give it all back, even during the time when we all look the same.

Always step out of the spotlight before it burns you.

*

Pinocchio as a Girl

I should be painting today

instead of reframing the future,

an unnecessary and ephemeral job at best.

Kind of like lassoing an unborn colt,

I try to put a rope around something that cannot get away.

Outcome hasn’t much to do with foregone conclusion

and wouldn’t I be better mixing colors and wetting brushes

than cutting slices from a pie in the sky?

But tomorrow seems more spacious than this crowded present

and I con myself into believing this is a harmless trip to the fair.

I lose my light, my thought, my sight with these thieving sojourns;

leaving me to creak around because all that is left is wood.

How Things Seem

April 26

HOW THINGS SEEM

Not everyone who pushes me down is my enemy and not everyone who pulls me up is my friend.  I have been seduced by the closeness of people who used me as their shield.  When I have been held in the place of honor, the point man of life, I forgot that made me the replacement target for the one who stood behind me.  I had been offended as I was thrown to the ground.  The hands that shoved me, I saw as my rejecters.  I was spared the tragedy and peril of the thing that flew by my ear thanks only to the grace of a thrust in the right direction.  Accurate appraisal is my weakness.  Seeing things for what they are is hard.  Things are rarely how they seem.

Grow tall with your grain and the years will grow around you.

*

Would You Rather a Lamp?

I am a girl filled with expectations.

Like a ginger jar filled, stuffed caulker block full,

though the filling is the part which is unpredictable;

It could be match books, or seashells,

acorns or all those pretty capsules.

This makes me erratic and sometimes volatile.

Are you strong enough or far too sane

to stay and help me sort the contents?

It’s lonely work without a witness or a spotter.

I rather be alone than with you reluctantly,

so please try to shuck that husk and remain.

Yes, I am sometimes capricious, but I try never to be cruel.

I know sometimes you convince yourself

that leaving me to my own devices is the wisest of courses,

but don’t be fooled;

You disappear due to your weakness not strength

and the worst part about the price of abandonment

is that everyone has to pay it.