Suddenly

March 23

Suddenly

Creeping realization has never been my experience with G-d’s handy work in my kitchen.  I start out making a mess and I find in short order that G-d has made a meal; fit food for apt hunger.  I could throw myself into the kneading and shaping, but without the yeast which is so freely given I have no bread; only a lump that will choke me in the end.  Even my very own abilities are gifts I was incapable of offering to myself and are only found here in my possession through sheer grace.  I have woken up with my face saliva glued to the table top far too often only to discover my Higher Power doing and I am grateful; for without that action I would be un-done.

Learn to live with the shadow of the moon

*

HOW RED IS RED

I check my color and contrast
I paint the setting sun
Add a bit of yellow
And fill to the edge burgeoning poppies

Add more blue and paint the blood
Which pools around my mind
The equalizer of all my mental conversations

Too much is never enough, as the story goes
I pursue my shades and signatures
Too much for the fingers and not enough for the toes
I disregard fraudulent crimson

I scale the mountains of intention looking for perfection
The leach of my addiction drains the other colors from my rainbow
My sponsor asks only one question
"How red is red?"

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 Long Dark Ride

February 16

The Long Dark Ride

Are fear and ignorance one thing that looks like itself or terrifying twins who feed one another?  Can they be separated and if they can will it kill them?  And if they die what will spring from their remains?  Will it be better or worse?  Can I tell what better is?  Should I tell if it turns out to be worse?  Is there ever an end to either fear or ignorance?  If there is, how deep is that well and will I survive a trip to the bottom?  Do you know and do you care?  Will you go with me if I find the way?  Will you take me if you find it first?

Learn from ugliness

*

THE 24 HOUR GOD

Matching a loving God to the horrors of my past
 has proved impossible for me.
Projecting a connection to an all powerful God
 of the ever foreshortening future seems implausible.

In today, I see a nurturing God
 not an all purpose God
Not a God who serves all.
In my life there is a God I trust today.

Each morning, when I wake
 there is a pleasant surprise to find a God.
Not an expansive God, not a God to fit the continuum
But a nice neat God who fits right in this 24 hours.

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

Saurian or Dalliance

January 20

Saurian or Dalliance

I love to be mystical, but the only dragon in my life is when I drag on and on.  Procrastination is the winged beast in my world.  I armor plate the thing, shiny and gleaming, my loitering delay is mightily impressive and you might think it would take flight from the way it postures but departure has been adjourned in favor of misgiving and postponement.  I wander through the forest attempting to appear brave and feeling it occasionally while my tale grows longer.  I need the fierce face and sharp claws; I can beat the mythology if I will just continue to take action.

Never confuse signposts for guideposts.

*

THE FROG

Stretched in the water
Still
The frog hangs.

The pond is barely a tea cup
Sufficient for communion
Of God and frog.

I watch the frog
Unblinking
Savoring respiration.

In a pond in Maine, I bore the posture
Center-stage
A quarter mile of water all around.

I hold my head above the surface
And feel I am in the eye of Gods creation
Face to face with benevolence.

Peace spars with uneasy smallness
I am a tiny speck, floating in the soup.
I am one organism in a sea teaming with life.

I am a part of
Not protected
But equal to the rest.

Can I bare this reality
The struggle of living
On a web?

Can I live a humble life
Knowing
I am favored no more then the rest?

Can I set aside my need
For preferential treatment
A God given Band-Aid for my multitude of hurt?

"If you can't, you will drink." Says my sponsor
"If I have to live this way I will cry." I respond.
"That is your God given right."

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/n7AtS2CzGX4

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

Relapse is Not Required

December 29

RELAPSE IS NOT REQUIRED

“Relapse is not required,” said my sponsor, “though at some meetings they make it seem appealing, all that prodigal drunk treatment.”

“Well, so far, I’m living in the blessing of being convinced the first time,” I told her, “plus what could possibly be out there that’s better than what’s in here?”

“That is the point.  There is so much out there that is faster and bigger, more dramatic and extreme, but I sure have never seen anything better,” she patted my head and I grinned.

“Since I am winning the first time why would I want to lose?” I add just to overstate her point.

“This is the perfect place for those who want it, and all the rest get drunk, but drinking is not required any more than Santa has to come on Christmas.”

Save pretty words in a jar like candy.

*

Step 3

Remember that this is a surrender to a friend, a thing filled with humor and humility not a thing filled with shame or humiliation.  As for regret the only one I’ve ever had about step 3 is that I didn’t surrender earlier.  Trying to pull a moose by its antlers across the desert was always a ridiculous endeavor, but a friend will stay close and let you try, always ready to lend a hand if asked, though never stealing the opportunity for me to recognize on my own how foolish I have been.  Hilarity ensues as I explain my thinking and turn the project over to a brighter mind and more able hand realizing then; there is no good reason to pull that big thing across that vast wasteland.  On the way back we chat about platypus and rhinoceros and laugh at how many strange things seem like bright ideas in the quiet space of even a great brain.  I have avoided surrendering fearing the loneliness and defeat.  Struggling alone with my torment was lonely; turning myself over to my best friend keeps me in the very best company.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/0VICoQBksyo

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 Boat

December 5

THE BOAT

On my ride home from work there is a boat stuck between two trees in the middle of a horse pasture next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass.  I think the boat is me.  I feel for the boat every time I see it.  Turned on edge, waiting for a river, which doesn't exist anymore and may never exist again.  Placed on edge for protection, not comfort. Although having my bottom rot out, well, let's just say might be more uncomfortable.  What good will I be even if the river runs again since I'm fenced in?  My sponsor says I shouldn't ask any question which starts with the word 'why'.  You know my reply.

If my Higher Power has a plan...if it includes a river and a fence…  if I'm in this plan, me, the rowboat…I just don't see it.  Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life says my sponsor.  I don't tell her the theme in hers.

Truth is, I don't want to face the fact I might float away. Even though I'm supported by two big trees.  Even though there is a tall fence all around me.  Completely in spite of the fact THERE IS NO WATER!  My Higher Power loves me.  I am the boat.

Enjoy the flowers and slide on the snow.

*

It All Points to Joy

Can Love reweave the fabric which hate destroys?

Can Kindness resew the field

torn through with disregard?

Can Beauty paint the world anew

after so much ugliness has rained down upon us?

My heart believes these three cannot fail

to make things right

for what other point could there be than Joy?

Vlog: http://youtu.be/chEY7foQ0Eo

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

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

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

Walking Joy Home

October 20

WALKING JOY HOME

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

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

*

Resilience

When I experience trauma or drama

my heart and soul return to the toddler state;

I feel the urge to stay up and push forward.

I resist help and rest.

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

Bleary eyed and red-faced, I soldier on,

only managing to make my life  into a ceaseless fight.

My charm and wit wear thin; then wear out.

I need to recharge my batteries,

need to hit reset and restore my default settings.

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

in order to get up again.

Restoration is impossible to achieve from my battle stance.

Resilience is a bouncing ball.

What I want to rise I must first throw down.

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

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

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

Satisfaction

August 29

SATISFACTION

Satisfaction is like a marble in my pocket.  Formed when correctness was still red hot and my sponsor rolled my mind until I was whole.  I sigh and square my shoulders.  I know I am up to any task.  I am skilled with my tools and know well the talents of my intimates and helpmates.  I am not invincible but I am capable.  I value who and what I am today.  I sleep the sleep of a person not a hostage or a captor.  I am me.  I have a marble in my pocket and it reminds me of the world.  I have a world within me; knowing how to live with that is a great satisfaction.

Listen clearly to angry words but don’t repeat them.

*

Even at the Bottom

Why is it that I feel God leads me to the path,

but expects me to travel it alone?

In all honesty it feels more like God leads me

to the stairs and I fall down them on my own.

I lay in a heap at the bottom

filled with self-reproach for the landing.

I forget that a power which draws me forward

can also endure.

I did not come here alone,

I will not leave here alone;

I am never alone,

even at the bottom of the stairs.

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

Public Privacy

August 28

PUBLIC PRIVACY

My public privacy is protected by my smile not my scowl.  Maintaining boundaries as I travel the common areas of life is more readily accomplished by a pleasant demeanor than a dark stare.  I have used negative attitude and found myself outside of my own protection.  The buoyancy of my manner keeps surface tension a natural and acceptable reality.  Hooded behavior drags every interaction into suspicion.  When I make part of my business to put others at ease, it is easier for me to preserve my business as my own.

Put clothes on ambition.

*

The Slick Nature of Grace

The higher I climb the more severe the fall;

the sweeter my life the more brittle my blood sugar.

I must be more careful as I get better.

I thought being sober would make my life free from care,

but I think it is a freedom from fretting

that might be more accurate.

I must still climb and take in all the sweetness

which comes my way,

but always I must vigilantly keep my balance.

Hold on tighter; eat more protein.

Grace is a glorious thing

and I am the consecrated recipient

who knows the slickness of the slopes

and the cunning of the glucose.

Daring to be sober is an athletic endeavor

I must tighten my cleats

and sharpen my sweet tooth.

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

In the Prairie

August 17

IN THE PRAIRIE

In the prairie, there are small fenced cemeteries, family plots.  The flat expanse of land opens to the eye; hand carved monuments stand in testimony to love and service.  In these places grow the wild flowers… bluebells, paintbrush, lupines, and all manner of reedy grasses… these places cordoned off from mechanization and  Agra-business.  Held in trust are the bones of loved ones and the soul of nature.  Deep inside me is a place like this.  The place I have buried my young---the little ones who died of shame, neglect, and hurt.  And I must return, not to exhume the dead, but to pay tribute.  To return with honor and love, harvest the daisies and buttercups, grow them in the garden of my heart.  I can tend the flowers that spring from destruction.  I can mingle them with the growth of my sober life; restore my prairie to a splendor it has never known.  I can enjoy the bounty of saving the seeds worth saving, and planting my Higher Power’s will for me. 

Make a list of decoys.

*

Endlessly Moving Maps

I try to survive by memorizing the chaos.

I do well up to five layers deep

and then lose it, as the details become too great.

I am staking my life on my ability to track the patterns

in a storm while at the same time treading water.

I think this skill kept life and breathe in me for many years.

Now I fear I’ll drown in this roiling mass.

I must touch down my tender toes

and learn to walk this twisting path

and keep a pace with this spinning world.

Everything moves and I am overwhelmed.

I have forgotten my flesh and blood nature;

have mistaken myself for a stone, one which dare not roll,

one which has no part in this endlessly moving map.

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

Hawaiian Graffiti

August 9

HAWAIIAN GRAFFITI

White pebbles spell themselves across the black of lava grown cold.  Personal announcements proclaim love, school pride, religious freedom.  The care of placement and consideration of design make the roadside an ongoing mineral memo.  What message would I care to share?  What words would prompt me to bring a pail of crushed marble to the edge of the road?  Is there a truth so urgent I would take time from paradise to spell it out?  A few more miles and I see the words I live by strewn down the thoroughfare, “it works if you work it.”

Joint your possibilities.

*

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool, I know this,

yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.

I look into the well of my despair

then quickly I look away,

I fear informing God what I need

lest the need be filled.

I need to believe that a power will heal me,

but if I am provided with the force of life,

I shrink from the prospect.

This too, must be added to the list

of my emotional woes and mental shortages.

This too, will be healed.

I look at my problems

and then realize, that like the moon,

who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore,

solutions are installed in heaven and earth

if I know what the problem is.

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 Palmist

June 20

THE PALMIST

Last night I had a silly dream.  I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said, “Today you will go to a meeting that will save your life.”  I thanked her and left full of anticipation.  When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation.  I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation.  I paid close attention to the coffee maker, those setting up chairs with me, and the newcomer.  I listened carefully to the speakers and the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer.  Nothing out of the ordinary happened… other than my realization that every meeting saves my life.

Believe in contradiction.

*

Notice

I put myself on the auction block

and wait to see how high a rate

I will have to pay to become slave to my illusions.

I have worked so ardently to free myself

from past enslavements and here I stand naked on this block,

selling myself and hoping I will fetch a price.

Poisonous pedagogy is atomized, contained in every breath,

I don’t know how to live apart from it

and thus I stand waiting to be bought.

It no longer matters how I got up here the first time

for who cares that slaves enslave.

All that matters is that there seems no safe way off this block

or out of this web, or down this street;

The world seems a bad neighborhood everywhere I turn.

Yet I must admit that standing here affords a view

I would not have if I were buying.

If I am a slave I can have hope of someday being free,

if I am a owner what hope might there 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

The Long View

May 14

THE LONG VIEW

The long view requires an enduring embrace of the past.  It requires a great love of people, the race and individuals.  I cannot see what we do and flee.  I can own what happened, what happens and what is to come if only so I can ratchet improvement into my own behavior.  I can see and feel and change, cringe if I must, but go on.  The horizon is there to set the stage.  It hangs there long and low.  It stands guard for the life there is to live.  I will view it and use it as my gauge.  Keeping perspective is the key.  I know it for what it is and that makes me, me.  The short sight and the long view.  My open arms hold it all; my sight brings it all into my heart.

Floss between the permanent ideas in your mind.

*

Life Events in Burlap

Two left feet in a gunnysack allows no forward motion

and creates only a windmill that screws us into the ground.

There is more perspective, front and back, more view,

but nothing to do with it, nowhere to go.

We are better off as book ends than this awkward foolish pairing.

You go your way and I go mine works fine if we are cut lose,

if any one person can be free of any other.

You offer to change your perspective if I change mine.

I smile, almost laugh at the idea of two right feet in a gunnysack

and no improvement in sight.

This is not grade school, not field day,

I must turn to you or you to me and nothing else,

no fair is fair, no turn taking.

Because my past is not your future

and your future is not my past.

Face forward on both accounts and then we run the race.

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 24 Hour God

May 10

THE 24 HOUR GOD

Matching a loving God to the horrors of my past has proved impossible for me.  Projecting a connection to an all-powerful God of the ever-foreshortening future seems implausible.  In today, I see a nurturing God.  Not an all purpose God, not a God who serves all.  In my life, there is a God I trust today.  Each morning, when I wake, it is a pleasant surprise to find a God.  Not an expansive God, not a God to fit the continuum, but a nice neat God who fits right in this 24.

Lift your fingers to your scars and feel the gratitude.

*

Box-a-week Tao

I am going through so many changes

surrounding the cleaning out and getting rid of process.

The flat sided panic that I experience

while even attempting the smallest disposal seems impossible.

I would deny it if I didn't have the repetition

of this experiment to prove it as fact.

I have now moved into the part of the illness

where I compulsively clean the things that I have emptied

in order to avoid facing the next step, the next box, the next mess.

This is a two part trap:

Part 1. If cleaning can absorb all the time

I will not be able to do anything else.

Part 2.  If I can't keep it clean enough

then I have an excuse to give up

and not empty the next space.

I am trying to keep moving without being mean to myself.

Because mean is worse than mess.

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

Whammo

April 22

WHAMMO

I have been hopping on one foot with a ball of hope shoved under one arm and a ball of hysteria under the other.  I wish I could tell from the outside of the ball which is the hope.  I worry I will put down the wrong one, so I hold on to both.  My life is sorely limited by the baggage, and I fear I am losing life with every hop.  A lack of information is my problem.  I don’t adequately know the properties of either and suspect my every interpretation.  Finally, I stand before my sponsor to ask the question of my life.

“That’s easy, Honey.  Hope is the one that bounces back,” is all she has to say.

Give yourself credit in a currency that enriches your life.

*

Halloween

“Why does self-centered fear wear a costume

that looks so much like ‘other people’s opinion’?”

I asked my sponsor.

“For the same reason

that booze masquerades as ‘a good time.’

How would you ever fall into a pit

which used no pretense?

Naked ambition attracts far fewer devotees than addicts of

‘must make Mama and Daddy proud’

or the ‘doing better for my kids’ crowd.”

“Ambition is not all together bad!” I crow.

“Neither is fear in its proper scale,

but fear cloaks itself to seize more than its share of your life,

just like any parasite.

So take your spring tonic like a good kid

and keep the worms at bay.”

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

Crazy

March 30

CRAZY

I try on crazy, the way I sometimes get out the jump rope, and see if all those muscles still work.  The unemployed, unexploited, fallow nature of my once fertile insanity saddens me in an odd way.  Today is a place I stand in stiff comfort, though it has taken concerted effort to get here.  There are days I slip from reality, the way I can slip off a chair. I no longer allow myself to lounge on the floor.  Pride is not so much the issue as hygiene.  Crazy is bad for my health.  I gave it up like cigarettes or romance novels; I don’t have enough time or insurance for these dalliances, though I do remember them all with fondness.

Allow yourself a favorite spoon.

*

Face and Ass

“It is hard to save your face

and save your ass at the same time.”

What I haven’t tried

in an attempt to live my life as a showman

spotlight front and center.

What I wouldn’t sacrifice to keep

peace and image intact,

but in the end it was just that,

my end, that saved me from

a life chasing prevention of defacement.

I can’t live with the posture of an ostrich

it leaves so much at risk.

Hiding my face won’t protect it

no matter how much I wish it would.

I have to put my butt in a seat,

a seat up front where folks get to know my face.

I have to try my best yet still make mistakes

and let people know my ass as well.

Being a part of AA saves my behind,

once that is cosseted

my face might just get its day in the sun.

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

Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?

December 15

Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?

Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments.  When I fear for my survival, physical, emotional or financial this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder, sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze; melt all which is steel strong between us and create a molten mess from which it will be a struggle to recover.  This is why, me taking good care of me, attending to my life, and quelling my fears is the very best way for me to protect you from my attitude and save me from a negative balance sheet during my 10^th step.

Ask the questions

*

DON’T BITE

Desperation jumps up--runs around--then drops.
If I don’t feed it-- desperation burns out fast.
I used to buy the advertising--the Horror--the Humanity.
The acorn falling on my head convinced me easily.

I grew this nut into terrifying despair.
Never realizing if I had left it alone
How quickly it would pass.
When tragedy comes there is no time for a performance.

The whirling splendor itself proves the farce.
If I learn to recognize these triggers
I might keep from shooting myself in the foot.
If I let desperation wear itself out
I can stay with the pack.

Despondence splinters me
And separates me from anything rational.
But quiet resolve lets me watch the wind twist
While I keep my feet on the ground.

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

How I've come upon the World

November 28

How I’ve come upon the World.

My first exposure to Bogart was as the man who was after Bugs Bunny, and Lauren Bacall was only referred to as Baby.  I only ever heard Kaw Liga because Stephen King referenced it too often and I had to go have a listen.  I come through the back door on so much of the world and it has served me rather well.  Yes, I often feel ignorant, but at least the knowledge never sees me coming and I get the drop on it.  There is a quality to not having been spoon-fed, that keeps me sharp and allows for depth.  The universe sends me clues and I go investigate.  It cuts down on the agendaed learning of the social norms and cuts me a wide swath beyond the common path.  There are times when conformity is key; then again it’s a sweet thing to have a choice.

Level inequity

*

TAPERS

I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends.
I borrow from the beginning, I steal from the end
And come up short; feeling deeply cheated.

I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser
Arch-traitor selling short the days and hours
For approval not fulfillment.

I put away my true identity, mammal, human, the love of.
I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer.
A tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit
Of everyone who attempts the portrayal.

In spite of this the roads teem with actors
Becoming caricatures of a life less lived.
The world is more than a stage
And I must free powers greater than to be more than an audience.

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

Picture Window

November 11

Picture Window

When G-d sticks His face in my window it brightens my day.  What that shining face looks like in other windows I do not know, but I try to memorize the eyes, the brow, the winning smile before my time is up and the wind shifts.  The flash of a friendly face lights up the house, my yard, the corners of my soul.  I imbibe the rich glow before it moves on, letting my core charge with incandescence, warming my mettle.  I am long and longing for this happy countenance and only when the blocks tumble in my mind do I realize that it is two- way glass in that window and stick my face in it and offer it to G-d.  

Today treat oddity as a pearl not a pebble

*

LIKE PEACE

Peace like an elephant on my chest
I can’t breathe but at least we are not fighting.
The rigid air hangs like sheets on the line
Stiff but dry.

Plastered smiles and short salutations
Get us through until bedtime.
But what can hold in standing up
Pours out lying down.

Tender feelings are compressed
And come out only as water
Anger bubbles and brews.

Disappointment lives down deep
And sours the milk of love
There are things worse than cross words.

Moldering, festering, frozen words
Pound spikes in a relationship
Fraught with apprehension.

The truth is I would let these pent up things out
But I don’t trust you and I don’t trust me.

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

Liminal

November 3

Liminal

Not everything which is birthed arrives here alive; sometimes struggle is answered with stillness.  I love thee in thy loss for there is no life to love thee in.  Hope can be a bubble that breaks returning to whatever it was before that perfect roundness and yet the roundness is not a mistake.  Reflected beauty is beauty all the same.  Some sparks aren’t meant to become flames, but their glow still warms my eye.

Wage old wars only in the past and never in the present

*

DOWN THE UPSIDE

On the downside of a rising star there is too much fear
Anticipation is recommended for ascent, delight should be encouraged
But all out alarm is usually sounded whether it is needed or not.

Panic dims the shining pleasure of mounting the sky.
Refuting celestial status, denying astral projection, I renounce myself.
Attaining height, my position in space is apparent
To bystanders and onlookers.

I need to ride the comet and accept fate my nemesis
Fortune shines on me
I should not squint away kismet.

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

Basket Ball

October 26

Basket Ball

Idiots out number poets, this is a fact, though I do wonder why.  It cannot be an easy lot spending your days in slow witted discharge; I would think they might at least try putting pen to paper.  I think I would rather live in a world filled with bad poets rather than drifting on this ship of fools, but the troubadours rise with imbeciles as their cover and poems fall from favor.  I wonder how I could make verse a contagion, how could I make it spread?  You may laugh at me, but think what some guy did with a broken peach basket and a rubber ball.

Check your gait for swing

*

STRONG WORDS

Serious language, deep language, real language
Helps me by grounding me.
I don’t have to be nice for company
When I can just tell the truth.

I needn’t have guests with virgin ears
Or unrealistic expectations,
I no longer pander to such foolishness.
I know the layered meaning of my words.

I value the intensity of a large vocabulary.
I am not intimidated by prudish co-conspirators
Who stare down pointed noses
At powerful utterances.

Weak words make poor boundaries
And breed victims.
I will not be trapped by niceties
I will speak clearly out of 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