Control

November 4

CONTROL

I have everything in the world but control and yet it seems to be the only thing I yearn for.  Past history has made it difficult for me to have faith and I have clung to scraps of control as an alternative.  I have hope but I have hope in the way a disgruntled gambler has hope.  The horse may cross the finish line first but it’s a long shot.  This is the trouble with control.  If I could ride the horse, I might be able to exert some sway in the situation, but since my jockeying would only make things worse, my inability to secure the outcome leads me to despair and here I am.  I am not in the race.  I will not risk betting on the horse.  I have no skill accepting the capricious nature of life and work hard not to be capricious myself.  This maybe the crux of my problem; I work so hard to do things right instead of having fun.  I try constantly to keep things from going badly; I focus no time on creating joy in my life.  I may not believe much, but I do believe God wants me happy.  This could be the seed, which starts faith.

Feel free to laugh.

*

Natural Law

The boat captain can’t change the river;

navigate it possibly,

but rule it never.

Birds don’t control the wind,

only capitalize on it.

I can’t reign my sobriety,

I just get to take the ride.

My choices greatly affect the quality of this journey

but not the nature of recovery itself.

I am powerless over gravity

but am thrilled at my ability to use it to my advantage.

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

Promise Broken

September 2

PROMISE BROKEN

If promise shatters without anyone touching it, if it pops like a floating soap bubble that lost its cohesion, what do I do?  Name names?  I can’t even take fingerprints.  Sometimes dreams just end.  No fault or blame is attached.  The ice breaks under its own weight and nothing can be done.  I am more than just holding on.  I am alive even if all the promises melt away.  I can accept the unexpected and the unasked for and still know this doesn’t affect my worth.  My value is intact regardless of disappointment or discontent.  I have learned that anticipation is mere amusement; promises are pleasantries. I am made of stronger stuff. I am not broken by words, ideas or hope.  Promise can be broken but it doesn’t break me.

Open the mental crayon box.

*

Where’s Your Chair?

Is the ring more unnatural for the tamer or the lion?

One the trapped, the other the trapper.

Who is the more in danger;

the one with loss of freedom

or the one with possible loss of life?

And while this question is still in play

the next question is begged.  Why is there a ring?

What is worth the price paid

by the whip holder or the whipped?

Spectacle is a thing whose cost

reaches from the forest to the trees;

can take you from the highest rung

down to your knees.

All this lost for some Owwe’s and Ah’s

from people needing diversion

from the ring they turn tricks in.

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

Red Roses

June 14

RED ROSES

From tight green buds come beautiful red roses.  From small verdant places I blossom, too.  I open to richness unexpected and fullness unbelieved.  I look at laundry crumpled, never anticipating the look of clean sheets blowing on the line.  Doors I perceive as blocked by vast boulders are thrown open by willingness.  Who I am today is no one I recognize; I didn’t see myself coming.  I write though I can’t spell.  I love though my heart is broken.  I think though my mind is warped and I trust though the amulet is long shattered.  Promise is not a laid out plan but the continuum of change.  I can fight it or let it carry me where it goes.

Smile at similes.

*

What I Heard Through the Snow

The commentator’s voice fades in and out

as the reception is lost and found

among the static of my drive home.

In here is a pattern, a connect the dots matrix;

I try to feel my way too

as I weave past the slow and stubborn traffic.

Like a call from the wilderness

distorted through a storm, my frantic thoughts obscure,

sometimes distort the content, the intent,

the soul of a message I so desperately need.

Broadcast warnings, safety suggestions,

help and hope are torn to slivers

and rewoven in my careworn brain.

The distraction of the road allows the subliminal heart beat

to tattoo in my ear then my chest, all the way to my toes,

bodily acceptance overpowers my relentless mind

and clarity is achieved, no matter the drifts.

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

Three Roosters

June 8

THREE ROOSTERS

The three roosters come to the meeting to hear themselves crow.  The membership purely spectators in the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition.  Those of us in the fray are like picked-on-puppies who learn slowly not to put our heads up to spare our eyes and hearts.  The same noise comes repeatedly.  Suspicion is never aroused; the heads nod at all the right places, orchestrated for ego and nothing else.  The meeting is closed with a momentary prayer for the still suffering in and out of the room.  I pray that will be enough.

Tour your past but leave at closing time.

*

Abraxas

I was waiting for a magic person

and then you appeared.

I was dazzled;

I was under your spell.

In an attempt to prove myself

your natural assistant I sawed me in two.

Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet

and promptly disappeared.

I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you,

but I never looked from your visage once you arrived.

The world around me melted at your entrance

and I flowed down the drain along with it.

I somehow expected a response from you,

but why respond to an empty room?

So, I will plug back into myself and power up.

Power draws power

and I will see if I can draw you once again.

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 Shiny Thing

May 8

THE SHINY THING

The starling stands with the candy wrapper in its beak; the cellophane flexes in the breeze.  Here is my life.  I have the shiny thing in my possession.  What do I do?  Do I give up my intended tasks to attempt dominance or control of the shiny thing?  Do I release this thing of intrigue and beauty?  I am drawn to the shimmer and sparkle but shudder at the price.  The world is filled with shiny things.  I can enjoy them but leave them where they lay.

Play the tune but change the lyrics.

*

More Than a Fedora

I have no explanations only expletives,

I wish I had something to say

that you wished to hear,

but that is not current events;

Foul humored broadcasts are what fill the air this day.

Bad temper is tempting,

but I can no longer be satisfied in this way

nor is this a performance that you care to witness.

I will play FCC to my ruminations

curtailing this colorful darkness for my benefit

and the clearing of the air.

I have never shied from dramatic vocabulary

and I do not now,

but throwing out words is waste

and I am learning to conserve.

I don’t have to leak my power

I can cover my head

and close my mouth.

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 Playground

April 14

THE PLAYGROUND

Getting my ass kicked in the playground of my mind was once a daily event.  Now, it is a far off memory.  I absent myself from the jungle gym the same way I absent myself from bars---places set with traps and schemes I am no longer attracted to.  Bullies and ego trips can’t draw me toward the fence.  Dares and double-dares are such ancient devices I can’t even find the trigger they used to pull.  Trouble doesn’t know my new name, my sober name; I don’t answer to the old one.  I hate to admit the isolation of my school yard days, but no one I knew back then will keep me on the road to the future.  So, I leave the ball in their court and wish them well.

Expectations are lovely as long as you leave off the outcomes.

*

Not Fur but Fin

You can’t delay the river,

I’ve tried, all it does is distort.

I block the flow and swamp ensues,

mighty oaks waist deep in water.

The current is strong

and I fear being swept away,

not realizing I was born to swim.

Dreading the swim back for spawn

I try to stay too close to my origins,

never make it to open water,

never to live the life I was intended for.

I’ve heard it said,

“Don’t push the river it flows by itself,”

but I can’t stall it either.

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

Whip

April 12

WHIP

I have been to the meeting where they play 'whip', the meeting where the members are gotten in line.  The tempo increases constantly in an attempt to flick each other off into the land of shame and slips and less-than.  This game is invisible to the participants, though the stress on their bodies is surely felt.  Spectators often misunderstand the meaning of the activity and wrongly interpret it as strength training and endurance building.  I think of it as a backward step, throwing me to my initial desire for a drink; living in other peoples skewed lines sent me running for a bottle.  These same lines, placed around me in sobriety, will measure me up for a box.

Turn your plants and your mind so every aspect has an opportunity to get some sun.

*

Who to Ask

“You ask good questions

and you ask the right people,” said my sponsor.

“I ask questions because I need answers,” my reply.

“Do you know how many people need answers

and never ask?” she quipped.

“I ask my friends, no stroke of genius there,” I continue.

“You ask your playmates,

you ask the people you trust enough to have fun with.

You don’t realize how clever that is.

You know lots of folks who work hard

and you could ask your questions of these

But instead you save them for those diligent ones

who still know how to play and that, Sweetie Pie

is proof that you are no dummy.”

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

You are allowed to close windows or keep them open

March 8

YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CLOSE WINDOWS OR KEEP THEM OPEN

Not every open window offers a warm and welcome breeze.  There are windows, which greet with artic blast and little else.  Frosted cheeks and chapped lips, I face these frigid openings believing it is my lot to forge ahead in this bluster.  Never did I think to shut the glass on this disagreeable weather.  I am allowed to close windows but I didn’t know it.  Every irksome thing that comes my way is not mine to face; many things will pass my way.  This does not make them my responsibility.  On the other hand, when spring blows honeysuckle through the air, it is a fine idea to prop the window open with a stick.

Wave gently good-bye to yesterday.

*

Migration

Why does an alcoholic leave the drink behind?

To go where it’s warm,

because drunkenness has become cold comfort,

because the climate has changed.

The wind resists the flight from the bottle

and the initiative to break the flow

is rotated among the flock.

Though each member of the band plays their part,

the one diverting the air just ahead of me

and the one just behind trumpeting

still hold the majority of my attention.

Flocking is my primary purpose

because survival is the intention of life,

demise the intent of my illness.

One more sober day is all I can ask,

it’s all I ever need,

it’s all that’s ever offered.

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

One in a Thousand

February 28

ONE IN A THOUSAND

“Did they tell you the odds when you came in?”  asked my sponsor.

“Yes.  One in thirty makes it to the rooms.  One in thirty of those stays for five years.  One in a thousand gets truly sober and is catapulted to another dimension."  I responded.

“What was your response to that?”

“Well, I showed the proper amount of surprise and said, ‘Oh, my.’”

“Yes.  What did you think inside?”

“I thought. '  Climb with me or I’ll climb over you.’  Not very spiritual is it?”

“It worked.  You’re still sober; a lot of folks aren’t.  The company you keep is sober.  There is nothing less spiritual than being drunk,” said my sponsor.

“Is that why it’s called a selfish program?"  I ask.

“I don’t know.  It seems to me sobriety is a gift you give to the world.”

“But I give it to myself.”

“Can’t give a gift you don’t have in your possession.”

“Point taken.”

Do what you can and try the rest.

*

Adjustment

The chase is on, round and round it goes

and where it stops no one knows.

I run after control and change as I grasp,

but can never quite get my fingers

wrapped around the thing.

An open fist is an adjustment;

no fist at all would be a feat.

The fool’s errand I send myself on brings suffering;

there would be suffering anyhow,

I feel I am the cause due to my attempt to avoid it;

another backhanded attempt at the illusion,

the goal, control.

Adjusting to reality is at first freefall;

rarely do I get to second.

The shape taken by the shift in my gears

to no gears at all dilates my pupils and the rest is white.

If the colors come back I don’t know when.

If the ground beneath me returns I don’t know how.

I am blinded by the light and can only follow the sound.

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

Time is Here to Stay

February 20

TIME IS HERE TO STAY

I have passed my days emptying them like breadcrumbs onto a trail of rescue.  Expecting them to facilitate redemption, and if not that, at least retreat, I release an audible sigh as I let each evening slip to the path behind me.  The future I view as a cliff I am nearing.  I hope to be ransomed before the edge.  I plan carefully how to stay in sync with revision; things must be resolved and revert.  But this is not the way.  The past is there to be mined.  Inert gold, as well as land mines, linger beneath the surface; the days stream on.  I am not nearing the limit; I am shrinking from hope.  I turn my eyes from expectancy with a shudder.  Deeply, I realize I must leave my fairytale life and walk away with my days in my pocket, a treasure that is mine to spend.

Tie a string around your hopes then let them go.

*

Katie’s Wish

Does G-d arrange for my parking spot,

foil the Colts opponents,

release the stains from my dry-cleaning?

Can I ask for the petty and pedantic?

All One G-d Faith,

reads the side of the soap bottle,

but really is there only one?

Like Santa?  The Tooth Fairy?  OZ?

Is my life better or worse for the whimsy?

How would I know?  Why would I care?

As long as I live with what I get most times,

it truly is okay to ask for what I want sometimes,

I mean hell, the Superbowl is only once a year.

I’m allowed to be unreasonable and happy.

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

I didn't know I was going to the circus

January 3

I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting.  I didn’t know the circus was in town.  I expected calm, demure, sober behavior.  My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.  There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker; there were kids playing among the chairs.  Smokers worked the meeting in shifts, hustling out the back door and smoldering back in. The side conversations rivaled the main attraction.  People dressed for the street not for the meeting.  The 'bippy shirt, tights, and no skirt' was more of a high wire act than I had ever seen before.  Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

“But for the grace of God,” said my sponsor. 

“No,” I said. “It’s a choice, they’re sober now.”  

“Oh, yes,” she remarked.

“Weren’t you sober when you took on every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?”

“I was cutting my chops.  They understood.” 

“Some of them didn’t,” said she.   “Weren’t you sober when you dyed your hair red, but only half?”

“I was afraid I’d dye my scalp, so I started lower.” 

“Yes, but aren’t you the one who says sudden hair color change is a sign of instability in your sobriety?”

“Yes, I do,” I replied.

“I think you would have fit well with the circus, you and your two-tone hair, but you didn’t hear it from me.” 

“You’re being mean.” 

“And what are you being?”

“Judgmental.”

“That’s my girl!  What are you going to do about it?”

“Be grateful.  Grateful I got in quick enough, grateful people let me work things out in the rooms, and grateful I still have something to learn from everyone.”

“Kiss up.”

“That’s me.”

Hold a rock in your hand until you warm it

*

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through

my rural second story windows

as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears.

Overestimating my interest to others

causes me as much harm as the underestimation.

Attributing super powers to onlookers

is a parlor trick my ego plays

to keep me occupied while my life passes by.

I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear

of what could be stolen through my keyhole.

I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose.

I must move forward in spite of my disquietude

for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself

that it is harder to hit a moving target.

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

Master Mind

December 12

Master Mind

I was taught that it was my job to master fear; raised in a religion swearing they could master death.  I used to spend all I had trying to create a master plan, while trying to keep secure using a Master lock.  I have seen Master & Commander and do not long for that burden; in fact mastery is so much a snare and illusion.  Life is quite improved when we each have an oar and we all row on.

Don’t think twice, think continually

*

ALCONOUT

Want to learn it fast but not deep?
Just go to meetings and listen with half an ear.
Call your sponsor only for her birthday and anniversary
And tell her about all the thing you are not doing anymore
But none of the things you are.

Skim the books for good quotes
That sound impressive when they pass your lips
But whose meaning has no chance of passing you heart.
Find playmates and cliques
Not home groups and surely not a service commitment.

Things fall out of orbit when they run out of juice
And you will too.
This program is not an airlock on the way to worlds unknown
It is a way to live in the world you know.

There is no question that you have the right stuff.
The question is do you want what we have?

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

Canine Comprehension

October 22

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.

Not all friends are friendly

*

CONTROL

I have everything in the world but control
And yet it seems to be the only thing I yearn for.
Past history has made it difficult for me to have faith
And I have clung to scraps of control as in alternative.

I have hope but I have hope in a way
A disgruntled gambler has hope.
The horse may cross the finish line first
But it’s a long shot.

This is the trouble with control, if I could ride the horse
I might be able to exert some sway in the situation
But since my jockeying would only make things worse
My inability to secure the outcome leads me to despair.

And here I am, I am not in the race
I will not risk betting on the horse.
I have no skill accepting the capricious nature of life
And work hard not to be capricious myself.

This may be the crux of my problem
I work so hard to do things right instead of having fun.
I try constantly to keep things from going badly
I focus no time on creating joy in my life.

I may not believe much
But I do believe God wants me happy.
This could be the seed---which starts faith.

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

Ping Pong Balls and Possession

October 11

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.

Confiscate excuses

*

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 one delivery?

The children of effort produce fruit of their own.
Who am I to call them other then 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.

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

The Tide in Texas

June 24

The Tide in Texas

I cannot tell you of my pain, how the liars took me off my land, how my heart lay shattered all around, how I’m so foolish and left in town.  I cannot show you the big red ball, which to me is a shame or how it bobs and sways or how the tail of it hangs out of reach and taunts me all the day.  But growing up to face the facts and finding my strong legs has put me to another tact and sucks the mud away.  Sharing my disappointment and my grief is like adding ballast to the boats.  It lifts us all instead of sinking me.  Not much of a price to pay.

Cruise your assets

*

RENTING JOY

I cannot buy happiness

No matter how much money I spend,

No matter how hard I work,

I can never pay bliss off on layaway.

The angles of escape for glee are phenomenal

I see runaway emotions and concede ownership

When opportunities arise for satisfaction

I pay the fare and take the trip.

The boat isn’t mine to keep

But the tour is forever in my heart.

I can’t take it home and bury it in the yard

I need to enjoy each measure while the music plays.

I remunerate for time in proximity

Delight arrives and stays as long as it likes

I linger at the table and enjoy my desert

Leasing elation is an occasion of celebration.

Living moment to moment

Has given me this chance

So I take it.

Adjustment

February 27

Adjustment

The chase is on, round and round it goes and where it stops no one knows.  I run after control and change as I grasp, but can never quite get my fingers wrapped around the thing.  An open fist is an adjustment; no fist at all would be a feat.  The fool’s errand I send myself on brings suffering; there would be suffering anyhow, I feel I am the cause due to my attempt to avoid it; another backhanded attempt at the illusion, the goal, control.  Adjusting to reality is at first freefall; rarely do I get to second.  The shape taken by the shift in my gears to no gears at all dilates my pupils and the rest is white.  If the colors come back I don’t know when.  If the ground beneath me returns I don’t know how.  I am blinded by the light and can only follow the sound.

Stall your reticence

*

ONE IN A THOUSAND

"Did they tell you the odds when you came in?"
Asked my sponsor
Yes, One in thirty make it to the rooms
One in thirty of those stay for five years.

One in a thousand get truly sober
And are catapulted to another dimension
I responded.
"What was your response to that?"

Well, I showed the proper amount of surprise
"Yes but what did you think inside?"
I thought, Climb with me or I'll climb over you.
Not very spiritual is it?

"It worked, you're still sober.
A lot of folks aren't.
The company you keep is sober.
There is nothing less spiritual than a drunk."

Is that why it's called a selfish program?
"I don't know."
It seems to me sobriety is a gift you give the world
But I give it to myself.

"Yes, but you can't give a gift
You don't have in your possession."
Point taken.

Flaw in Snow

November 30

FLAW IN SNOW

Waiting for snow.  Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads, warm beds, reading by firelight.  Waiting for the 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 every 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 overanxious ‘cause it may never snow in Miami.

Treat yourself with learning.

*

My Most Important Meal

Sweet potato pudding sits on the plate;

I sit in my place and wield my spoon

until the plate is clean.

I’m fed, my day begins.

If this is the best part of my day,

life is still sweet and fine.

Time skips its way through and I meet and greet

the splendid and the few.

Picking my way, the raindrops step aside;

I am gratified, though I never mind the rain.

When the mud has settled and my bed calls me home;

I look back to the start of the day

and pray to begin the next one the very same way.

Control

November 4

CONTROL

I have everything in the world but control and yet it seems to be the only thing I yearn for.  Past history has made it difficult for me to have faith and I have clung to scraps of control as an alternative.  I have hope but I have hope in the way a disgruntled gambler has hope.  The horse may cross the finish line first but it’s a long shot.  This is the trouble with control.  If I could ride the horse, I might be able to exert some sway in the situation, but since my jockeying would only make things worse, my inability to secure the outcome leads me to despair and here I am.  I am not in the race.  I will not risk betting on the horse.  I have no skill accepting the capricious nature of life and work hard not to be capricious myself.  This maybe the crux of my problem; I work so hard to do things right instead of having fun.  I try constantly to keep things from going badly; I focus no time on creating joy in my life.  I may not believe much, but I do believe God wants me happy.  This could be the seed, which starts faith.

Feel free to laugh.

*

Natural Law

The boat captain can’t change the river;

navigate it possibly,

but rule it never.

Birds don’t control the wind,

only capitalize on it.

I can’t reign my sobriety,

I just get to take the ride.

My choices greatly affect the quality of this journey

but not the nature of recovery itself.

I am powerless over gravity

but am thrilled at my ability to use it to my advantage.

Trap Door

April 15

TRAP DOOR

The trap door of my mind opens occasionally and I find myself acting out things better left to conversation. When I leave too many things unsaid, the pressure builds and the door opens. My thoughts connect with my body minus the benefit of my brain, not to mention the brain of my sponsor. I can ill afford the consequences of these open door exhibitions and I am obligated to spend much time scrambling up the hills my outlandishness slid down. Thinking, speaking and contemplating, the prerequisites of action, must be done frequently or my mind’s sink, piled with my dirty dishes, will flood the counter top, then leave dishes crashing to the floor. Even if I can’t keep everything caught up, at least I can leave things soaking. I can start notes or little chats so I am not weighting the latch. I can prevent the coupling of impulse and exploit. All I have to do is stick out my tongue.

Release your emotions from captivity.

*

Like an Elf Working in an Empty Tree

The chairs in the loft are empty,

but I still hear the choir sing.

The bottle though it’s empty,

still sometimes calls my name.

Though front pocket is empty

and there is rolled up empty sleeve,

still the nicotine haunts my dreams.

On this empty road I travel,

I still long for company.

The stillness is not all that’s empty,

but I run to fill that spot.

Chaos is like a tapeworm

it eats me from the inside,

but in the meantime I still believe it’s filling me.