Stepping Up

March 2

Stepping up

I look along the list of names, look upon the sea of faces.  Are there any whose eyes I avoid?  I gaze across the landscape are there any craters, any pock marks, any divots.  I tick through my actions those I’ve recently taken checking for stumbles, glitches, snafus.  These combined facts and figures create a portrait of my day; I appraise the eyes, the hair, the teeth.  If I can smile at what I see all is well if not I begin the repair. 

Plan for your contentment at least as much as you plan your escape

*

SWEAT

I turn the desk lamp into the eyes of God.
I put question after question
To the construct of my childhood concept.

Would you please explain?
Or exactly why did You do this,
That, or the other thing?

Are You now or have You ever been a member of?
I put the pressure on.
The beads of perspiration join and then trickle.

I have God in the box, I will not relent.
I don't understand You, I say disappointedly
As if speaking to a troubling adolescent.

You have so much potential, if only You would apply Yourself
The icon shakes It's head slowly and deliberately,
I shake my head too.

So much time has passed
And I am no closer to embrace.
You don't understand Me, says God to me.

Dawn breaks, I uncuff this mythic creature.
You are not the One I am looking for,
You are free to go

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

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

Nuzzle's Offering

November 20

NUZZLE’S OFFERING

Like a vegan kitten who wrestles long tailed leaves and twigs, subduing them and dragging these prizes to the feet of human parents, I fight paper tigers and bring the tatters as tribute to my Higher Power.  These bloodless battles are pure practice; future wars may not be as clean.  I can not enlist my God to fight these skirmishes; I would never believe in one that I could.  I accept Deus as creator and cheerleader, but champion, no.  Foliage and foes are mine to fight.  The spoils, I bring back for pats on the head and bragging.

Talk to things other than people.

*

Triumph

God and I are experience junkies;

part of why I am here is so God can take me for a ride,

but also for the treat of God tucking into the sidecar

and letting me take us out for a spin.

I am God’s audience and God is mine;

though we are not peers we are comrades.

Life is a serious business I am sure and

profit and loss are always there to be considered.

I can barely describe to you

how much being in love with my creator is a joy,

but even better is being the apple of my creator’s eye.

Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7X9dWsE86k&feature=youtu.be

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

Sharing

August 3

SHARING

Please take a bite of my PB&J.  I made it myself.  It is fine as it is. I slathered the bread and cut it so neatly; still I can’t help but want to offer some to you.  I know that to stand and smile next to you, watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth, have you dab the jelly from the corner of my lips, will make this sandwich even better.  You bring so much to this meal, something bright and so clever.  You bring you. I can pull things together and set it all up but somehow my creation is never quite complete until I share it with you.

Withhold a convoy of criticism, advance a brigade of cheer.

*

Big Name

My name has a foreign sound;

my head turns when it is called.

I recognize this as training not identity.

I remember teaching the dog her name.

I called it while petting and praising her,

soon the name was hers.

Now, I think of God.

Did we call long and loud enough

to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible?

Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable;

assigned it a place on a shelf;

somewhere to be called up from?

Does the noise sound as strange as the syllables

of my name sound to me?

Does it matter as long as we answer?

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

Definitions

July 30

DEFINITIONS

I am close to my Higher Power but I have no words to describe It.  I have found it best to say nothing unless asked.  When I do speak, it is always about the path I took or the way I held my face.  I know the things that changed, and the wind that blew.  This is not the sketch most people seek.  My skin is brown and my smile broad; this is not from over-exposure to beams of light.  Closeness warms me.  I glow from standing near.  I know the face and form is different for every day; I must not stop for definitions.

Taste silence and smell the words.

*

The Acts of Hope

I cover my head when I pray

in hopes that God wants me sheltered.

I attend meetings to keep alive the hope

that sobriety is the end of isolation.

I talk to the people in my network

hoping I have something helpful to share.

I sit down to the blank page with hopes

that HP still chooses to collaborate with me.

I pick up my paintbrush filled with hope

that color is still my friend.

I inhale air along with hope that each breath

is worth the effort and I am worthy of this 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

The Living Dream

July 25

THE LIVING DREAM

Throwing yourself into the river in pieces drowns you as crumbs.  Casting aside love and longing makes you less in your heart, and your soul stops beating.  Pitching your tent with critics and complainers leaves you out in the cold on warm summer evenings.  Crest the hill to meet the rising sun; orbit the constellations without hesitation.  Petit-point the pictures in your mind, then set them to music.  The world is your dream.  Live it into reality.

Picture your voice.

*

God

I need help.

I need help availing myself of the help

You have provided me.

I am embarrassed to lack the ability

to complete all the steps necessary

for achieving the goals you have set before me.

I see now that it is always my turn with you

and I can stop standing aside

believing that I have had your attention

and must now do without.

I do not want to ask for more;

I don’t want to seem greedy.

I forget that you know my heart

and that you trust me.

I am going to make that a two-way street,

maybe a four-lane highway.

I need help,

thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie

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

Smog

June 30

SMOG

When I burn out, the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area.  I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full; I empty out and my light grows dim. I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep.  If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it and the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood.  I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze.  Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task if I make proper use of resources.  When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted and separated from my source, then the source I am to others is extinguished.  I can only light the darkness where I am; I can’t illuminate someone else’s path.  Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor due to a lapse in my spiritual condition. 

Place the period then write to it.

*

From Mind to Pen to Paper

What a relief to have exteriorized all the swirl of thought,

which normally swarms my mind,

waiting to take the stage and run through their numbers.

Then like deciphering a code

I was able to cross out all the irrelevant and redundant information,

leaving me with a clear answer.

Once there standing on its own;

it was obvious and easily explained

how two plus three is five.

I just love anything that can be explained all on one hand

and there it was tidy and neatly fitted in the nest of my palm,

easy to grasp hold of with my fingers or my mind.

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

Mail

May 16

MAIL

I form my query, fold my mind and mail it off to God with a stamp of approval from my sponsor.  The questions sent are of no great interest but the responses are a spellbinding group.  What is returned unopened is a wide array.  The circuitous route taken by some is a charm of elucidation.  I rub my fingertip over the intact seals and marvel at the travels of the wax.  I mourn over the defunked gods and their public relations organizations.  Slow is my resolve to pore over the replies.  I get easily caught in lackings and shy from true contact.  The equations embedded in my heart read the letters and sing the notes; these songs are just for me.  I know them like my name.  I turn the envelope and see how old the postmark is.

Remember your comfort needs a life of its own.

*

Pearly Whites

Reaction is a separation, a polarization;

it cuts you from me and God from we.

Response is a connection, an inclusion;

threading a line from you to me

and stitching God into our pockets.

I realize now that any positive connection

is an instantaneous link to my Higher Power

and can’t help but bring us closer.

Tiny feet carry beauty and kindness;

tiny teeth tear the fabric of the world to bits.

I must let my footwork conduct my life’s work

and seal my lips and reserve the dentistry.

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

Sweat

March 3

SWEAT

I turn the desk lamp into the eyes of God.  I put question after question to the construct of my childhood concept.  “Would you please explain?"  Or, "Exactly why did You do this, that, or the other thing?"  "Are You now or have You ever been a member of…?”  I put the pressure on; the beads of perspiration join, then trickle.  I have God in ‘the box.’  I will not relent.

“I don’t understand You," I say disappointedly, as if speaking to a troubling adolescent.  “You have so much potential if only You would apply Yourself.”  The icon shakes Its head slowly and deliberately; I shake my head, too.  So much time has passed and I am no closer to embrace.

“You don’t understand Me,” says God to me.  Dawn breaks; I uncuff this mythic creature. 

“You are not the one I am looking for.  You are free to go.”

New is neutral, not better or worse.

*

Stepping up

I look along the list of names,

look upon the sea of faces.

Are there any whose eyes I avoid?

I gaze across the landscape

are there any craters,

any pock marks, any divots.

I tick through my actions

those I’ve recently taken

checking for stubbles, glitches, snafus.

These combined facts and figures

create a portrait of my day;

I appraise the eyes, the hair, the teeth.

If I can smile at what I see

all is well if not I begin the repair.

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

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

Induction

November 17

Induction

I have a massive energy transformer that lives inside me.  It is explosive in nature and risky to toy with.  But if used properly I can power my whole world with the current which flows through it to me from my Higher Power.  If I use it improperly I can melt down my core and burn down my life.  The connections are of the utmost importance, insulation is a priority as well.  I know that I am conduit and so much more.  I must do my part as the carrier and the arbiter of change.  

The absence of joy is a sin

*

FLAW IN SNOW

Waiting for snow-
Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads
Warm beds, reading by firelight.

Waiting for proof of lack of control.
Waiting itself proves lack of control.

I can dance the snow dance
And refuse to buy new shovels.
Hang out laundry,
Put out all manner of storm tempters.

Still I cannot force the hand of nature
I must sit with my crystalline optimism
And endure these cloudless skies.

There will be snow
It will fall somewhere
But I mustn’t grow over anxious
Cause it may never snow in Miami.

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

Dear G-d

July 25

Dear G-d

I need help.  I need help availing myself of the help you have provided me.  I am embarrassed to lack the ability to complete all the steps necessary for achieving the goals you have set before me.  I see now that it is always my turn with you and I can stop standing aside believing that I have had your attention and must now do without.  I do not want to ask for more; I don’t want to seem greedy.  I forget that you know my heart and that you trust me.  I am going to make that a two-way street, maybe a four-lane highway.  I need help, thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie

The obvious is sometimes invisible

*

ACCESS

Writing to you my Sweet,

Allows me to give what I have available

At the moment it comes into my possession.

You reading lets you invite me in,

When you are ready or willing

Possibly both.

I can store succulent treasure for you

Without the least consideration of

Freezer burn or apathy.

You are here when I want you,

Yearning and prepared

I am yours for the taking

In the classroom, the bedroom

Or even in your bath

I can whisper or shout to you.

I can rant or tell jokes to you

You can embrace or ignore me

Introduce me to your friends

Or keep me your own personal province.

We are intimates

Because I bare my soul to you

And you take me into yours.

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

Pearly Whites

May 18

Pearly Whites

Reaction is a separation, a polarization; it cuts you from me and God from we.  Response is a connection, an inclusion; threading a line from you to me and stitching G-d into our pockets.  I realize now that any positive connection is an instantaneous link to my Higher Power and can’t help but bring us closer.  Tiny feet carry beauty and kindness; tiny teeth tear the fabric of the world to bits.  I must let my footwork conduct my life’s work and seal my lips and reserve the dentistry. 

If you take the cake don’t take it far

*

DRIVEWAY TIME

Layer after layer of blue stack the sky

The moon risen and the sun dipping away

I wait for the twin lights, the constellation of headlights

My ride to the meeting.

It will be the entry vehicle to a world of population

Leaving behind the galaxy of me, the single star

I stand silent and the feeling of fellowship carries the miles

Laughter flies the winds of memory

And all the old jokes of truth and tribute are fresh

And abide with me until the car arrives

And we make it all new again.

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.

The Was and the Is

January 30

The Was and the Is

The Silent Scream that existed as a placeholder for my G-d was incomprehensible to me.  I entered AA and was informed that understanding my Higher Power was required not just some far distant goal.  In true alcoholic form my first move was to shun G-d.  This made room for my rage which was in much need of the space.  After a few fine years of dissipation I lost interest in incendiary devices no matter how large their detonation capacity.  Having cleared the room I brought in G-d as potted plant.  I talked to it occasionally, watered and fed it, mostly ignored it.  Growing in spite of lacking ministrations G-d was an unobtrusive force living in the corner changing gas into air and demanding nothing.  As I quelled my apprehension and lived with the Presence I looked, listened, probed and questioned the subtle Force sharing the room. “Add it up,” chanted the children in my ear, “run the numbers, settle the accounts.”  I calculated proofs and discarded the faulty and inaccurate.  What was left, the whole, not the remainder was mine to keep, but it was not everything.  I haven’t an everything G-d, because I am not a nothing person.  I am something and G-d is something too.  We are complimentary, like pairs of angles who come full circle.

Show the sun the souls of your feet

*

TRUST

You can trust people to be who they are.
I am a different being in relationship to different people.
To some I am the center of their constellation,
The sun burning bright, I 'm all they can see.

To others I am the moon,
Orbiting them, silent and dedicated.
With another group, I am a comet streaking through the sky,
Seldom seen but well remembered.

For many I am a distant star.
One among the multitude, blending in the night with the other signs.
Then there are the folks who see me in a more down to earth way,
I am the dirt beneath their feet.

The farmer sees me as a plant to be tended.
The cowboys view me as a horse to be broken.
To fisherman I'm a catch.
I am what people want to see.

So what can I trust them to be?
Wrapped in their own worlds
Yes, mostly I guess,
None of my business in the end.

I watch them and learn what I want to do, who I want to be.
In large part by avoiding what I see them do.
I do trust people to serve as bad examples, often
And good ones infrequently.

Inertia

January 29

Inertia

in·er·tia
n.

1.     Physics. The tendency of a body to resist acceleration; the tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest or of a body in straight line motion to stay in motion in a straight line unless acted on by an outside force.

2.     Resistance or disinclination to motion, action, or change

This force is real; the laws that govern it act on me for well and ill.  When I’m on a roll it’s hard to guide me and like the girl with the curl; when I’m stuck, I’m very, very stuck and it’s awful.  

I am bound by this reality and go or stay according to what is set in motion or stopped, but what about ‘the outside force’?  Am I in charge of summoning ‘it’ or is ‘it’ summonable at all?  Will ‘it’ obey like the dog, or obey like the cat?  Or is ‘it’ more random than the rain?  Can ‘it’ be lured or tempted or does ‘it lure and tempt me?  And the biggest questions on my mind: Is ‘the outside force’ also subject to inertia?  Are we in this together? What is ‘its’ outside force?  Might it have something to do with me?

Wash one pain at a time

*

NURSE

What if the word God is like the word nurse?
What if the person is only the simple meaning?
The actor doing the service
The plain act, uncontrollable from my end.

What if my active part of God,
Is the same as my active part of nurse?
What I draw down, how I schedule myself
To be ready when the milk arrives.

How I pull and am satisfied
Digest and draw again.
Like the sea laps at the shore,
The moon tugging it all the while.

What if God is about my hunger,
Satisfaction dependent on finding a suitable teat?
Maybe this is why, when it comes to God
Much of what I do, is cry.

When faced with my need, I open my mouth
Finding only two possible responses,
Suck or Scream.
My aching consumes me and I don't know how to calm myself.

I look for the caretaker, the person, the deed.
I need sucker but never look for the breast.
I am the child of God.
I must learn to draw God in

Simplicity Itself

January 27

Simplicity Itself

My life runs at a Gilbert and Sullivan pace, with about as much sense and comic relief.  You say 'keep it simple' and my disease says 'why ruin a good play?’  The truth is this is not play at all but a work that consumes my life from me and doesn't thank me for my time. Simplicity for me requires respect, a gift I selectively give myself; a gift that I often use only as a shield during battle.  My past method of increased self-respect is life in a war zone.  This is no solution.  Release of grief, this is the onerous path I avoid taking.  Purging the wrong thinking and action of others from my blood, my eyes, my skin, allows me to lift my chin and square my soul to plumb and level living, don self-respect as a birth right and set a calendar fit for plausible life, a simple life.

If you are not a hero in your own home you are not a hero

*

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 winters day
Peer into warm lit windows
Hoping
You will be home.

I seek to keep 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
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.

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 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.

Pepo

January 11

Pepo

My father used to destroy a perfectly good watermelon by cutting a triangle in the top and pouring a bottle of vodka into it.  I used to destroy my perfectly good melon the same way.  Emulating bad ideas in new ways was a onetime pastime of mine.  Giving it up was harder than I had expected.  Flawed thinking blends so freely with my mental landscape I have trouble distinguishing it.  Condemning the action and not the man is not usually my preferred method.  I would rather condemn the man, but this leaves me with the actions in place and him long gone.  And though I prefer him gone I will recreate him within myself if I don’t flush his actions as well.  I have a good pumpkin on my shoulders but it is my job to keep it intact.

No need to wait for joy, jump when you please

*

LIFE IS TOO GOOD

I know it sounds crazy, is crazy
But I hate having the fear, the gnawing gut, of WHAT IF
WHAT IF I can't maintain this, the sober life I live.
WHAT IF I get struck, unable to connect to my Higher Power?

I had a spiritual awaking
WHAT IF I get spiritual narcolepsy?
My spiritual cord was cut when I was young, not by my choosing
WHAT IF it gets cut again?

"WHAT IF this line of thinking cuts it?" Asks my sponsor
I hate when she's right.
WHAT IF this is a test?
Be like them or not.

Follow the path of the twelve steps
When there is no weight of need pushing me
When everything is going in my direction
I have to keep my eye on the ball for myself.

I am still not God
This is the lesson
The abusers never learned
The one I have to.

What went wrong was not bad people
Making bad choices, in bad circumstances
It was disconnected people
Making decisions without help.

I have to stay in your pocket
Never be a free bird
I have to remember what true freedom is
It's not being cut loose.

I have had that
And it never felt free
Keep your eye on the ball
And hold onto my hand.

Sizing God Up

December 27

SIZING GOD UP

God doesn’t need to be big.  I only look for a big God when I feel very small.  I turn to God as compensation for my feelings, as some sort of bolster to brace myself with.  I have found when I am diminished in any way, God is tucked in a corner or pocket or drawer.  I flee to the great out of doors and find earth, nature and wind but the God of my understanding is proportionate to my mental state.  My partner is with me, near enough to hear the fear pour off my skin.  God doesn’t run from me to adventures in the wild.  I want to escape myself regularly but this is not my Higher Power's defect.  I come back to God when I stop running from me.  I face my reflection and recognize I am not towered over by a giant God; I am yoked with a power to share the load.

Enjoy the shape of things.

*

Disambiguation

This is what happens when you are stupid,

the same thing which happens

when you are smart yet afraid.

It doesn’t matter what dulls your sword,

your edge is gone.

Due diligence is required to hone it to first gleam,

what will it take to do it again

I don’t know and I rather not know.

If I can do the thing,

the thing which stands in front of me,

do it with whatever will I have

I am better off and stronger for it.

Better than to be the soft hearted genius

sitting in the corner or the soft headed idiot

standing in the street.

Mess is what comes from

retarded abilities or delayed action.

I can smell the problem and yet the lure

of staying is still so strong.

The pull-the push may not do the trick

to get me into a brighter head or willing body,

what works is what mostly always works; hunger.

I have to stop swallowing what is fed me

and go find the truth out for myself.

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!