Over Troubled Water

February 23

Over Troubled Water

Though G-d might be everything, for a long time G-d was a resident of an unknown country; a theoretical citizen of a theoretical land. It took some time for me to spy yon distant country and longer to realize what a miracle it was that I could see my neighbor, holding my optics turned around the way they were.  Turning over the binoculars came long before introductions or interaction, but it was an important step in relationship building nonetheless. 

Having seen the island my mind fled due to the trumped up stories about its resident.  Open minded observation cleared up the fallacies of ogres and super heroes, but this only told me who G-d wasn’t and nothing of who G-d is.  Direct knowledge was going to require direct contact. 

I began throwing tethered balls of string across the channel that separates us and was shocked, delighted, horrified to find that the far end would get tied to the far shore.  I threw twine next, then rope, after a few successful repetitions I was able to shinny across for the first time.  Filled with fear and trepidation I arrived on the apposing bank and stood shivering more from nerves than cold.  I saw no one and felt much.  I didn’t stay long and swam back.  The first plank bridge was simple and straight.  Having this link somehow emboldened me to explore the land of my own country.  With great regularity I found narrow margins.  I crafted a new bridge for each slender passage.  The more I learn about me the more regular my connection to that inner land.

Like something shy of my wrath, G-d made an illusive sight.  The more I calmed the more often the sightings.  We made acquaintance and then we made friends.  I’ve widened some bridges and G-d has widened others.  We stroll together often hand in hand.  We talk and laugh, cry and joke.  Occupancy is fluid, times I live on the island and others the surrounding continent sometimes we live together other times we are one another’s guests.  All the days are not happy ones but we are always happy to be together and more than that I will not ask.

Quarantine reluctance

*

DOMINOES

What happens to the dominoes that do not fall?
The show cut short by my sobriety.
The tiles stand front to back
The foul respiration will send them to their preordained destination.
I hold my breath as I glance over the display of generations
The design is set
Painstaking patterns lain with meticulous, ingenious deft.
Skill for falling, laying waste.
Sad pictures told and retold in speedy drops
The rhythmic fall of dominoes turning eight blocks to a corner.
Direction shifts
But the descending continues.
I cannot occupy this ground.
I must not upset the arrangement.
I cannot clear it from this world.
I must walk away from the upright mosaic.
A flower waiting to bloom with destruction
I have to move, climb the steep slopes
Vertical life,
Leaving the tumbling destruction for Yet.
Grasping the sides of the cliffs
I haul myself off the tableland,
A place set for a show of laying down,
I build my strength and keep off the well known flats.
This is a life apart
The game is there if I return.
It is a game no one can win.

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

Dominoes

February 24

DOMINOES

  What happens to the dominoes that do not fall, the show cut short by my sobriety?  The tiles stand front to back; the least foul respiration will send them to their preordained destination.  I hold my breath as I glance over the display of generations.  The design is set.  Painstaking patterns lain with meticulous, ingenious deft.  Skill for falling, laying waste.  Sad pictures told and retold in speedy drops.  The rhythmic fall of dominoes turning eight blocks to a corner.  Direction shifts but the descending continues.  I can not occupy this ground.  I must not upset the arrangement.  I can not clear it from this world.  I must walk away from the upright mosaic, a flower waiting to bloom with destruction.  I have to move.  Climb the steep slopes.  Vertical life, leaving the tumbling destruction for Yet.  Grasping the sides of the cliffs, I haul myself off the tableland, a place set for a show of lying down.  I build my strength and keep off the well-known flats.  This is a life apart.  The game is there if I return.  It is a game no one can win.

Carry yourself.

*

Over Troubled Water

Though God might be everything,

for a long time God was a resident

of an unknown country;

a theoretical citizen of a theoretical land.

It took some time for me to spy yon distant country

and longer to realize what a miracle it was

that I could see my neighbor,

holding my optics turned around the way they were.

Turning over the binoculars came long before

introductions or interaction, but it was an important step

in relationship building nonetheless.

Having seen the island my mind fled

due to the trumped up stories about its resident.

Open minded observation cleared up the fallacies

of ogres and super heroes,

But this only told me who God wasn’t

and nothing of who God  is.

Direct knowledge was going to require direct contact.

I began throwing tethered balls of string

across the channel that separates us

and was shocked, delighted, horrified

to find that the far end would get tied to the far shore.

I threw twine next, then rope,

after a few successful repetitions

I was able to shinny across for the first time.

Filled with fear and trepidation

I arrived on the opposing bank

and stood shivering more from nerves than cold.

I saw no one and felt much.

I didn’t stay long and swam back.

The first plank bridge was simple and straight.

Having this link somehow emboldened me

to explore the land of my own country.

With great regularity I found narrow margins.

I crafted a new bridge for each slender passage.

The more I learn about me

the more regular my connection to that inner land.

Like something shy of my wrath,

God made an illusive sight.

The more I calmed the more often the sightings.

We made acquaintance and then we made friends.

I’ve widened some bridges and God has widened others.

We stroll together often hand in hand.

We talk and laugh, cry and joke.

Occupancy is fluid, times I live on the island

and others the surrounding continent

sometimes we live together

other times we are one another’s quests.

All the days are not happy ones

but we are  always happy to be together

and more than that I will not ask.

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

If Garfunkel Was Here

May 26

If Garfunkel Was Here

Speak of the dead and paint the living.  Paint them in a good light when you can and into a corner when you have to.  Read the books of future generations rather than acting as the arrogant, who attempt to write these volumes.   Expunge nothing leave it all on view, but move past it after taking in the implications.  Water flows under the bridge until it collapses then it carries the bridge away.  So, speak of the dead don’t drown them, paint the living don’t stain them, look to the future don’t dictate to it and let the water run.

Rinse off your first impressions

*

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

Drug my feet and thrown a fit.

This only stalled the inevitable result,

Naming and interaction is the need

And now is the time

I have a Higher Power

And I chose to call it

Frequently.