A Living Love

January 26

A Living Love

What I love about the program is that it is a living thing, like me.

It is not perfect, it is growing and changing, adapting and correcting for each experience and need.  AA is a life into life process and saves me because life begets life, no matter what I was told.  The answer to life is living and I get to see that being done by everyone from newcomer to old-timer each at his or her personal ability.  I am allowed to dangle my feet, wade, tread-water and swim, all under the watchful eye of loving support and critical pretender.  Difficulty is not removed nor is the way made smooth, but I am no longer without a thread to hold.  I love the web I help weave myself into and feel protected from the spider of my addiction because together we are living proof.

Bear Grace

*

DEEP IN THE SEA

Under the mirror
There is life
Under what I reflect to the world
I am a world apart.


I smile sweetly, political in my response
to confrontation and conflict
Deep, deep in the sea, is a current of sadness
I can't always shake.

Pain is the past
But it's there like a moray
Lurking to strike aimlessly, pointlessly
At the passersby.

The ripping teeth
And the cold stare
My terror
No way to escape it.

I focus on the topside
The reflective part of me.
I keep as clean
And free as can be.

I stick to my business
List my goals and make plans
The water runs cold
Then hot beneath.

I carry the steps to this underwater grave
Trying to inflate the rubber skin of god
But No
There is no life in the god of my understanding

Or maybe there is no life.
For the character the drowned balloon represents
The sea is bigger than me.
The life stronger and more abundant.

The sky it reflects as vast as the liquid
I swim
There is a Power
and it doesn't need that comic book face.

Safety is not the requirement
that can be granted.
Lack of safety does not end my life
It does not end God

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/52qY3TwWOxo

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

Lathe

January 8

Lathe

Turning into a spin, the edge cuts into my misconceptions, the point sharp and accurate to a fault digs into the excess I carry around, keeping me from my useful purpose.  A good eye and steady hand are needed lest breakthrough ruin me.  Not that all is ever lost for a spoon with a hole in the bowl will stir a soup smooth.  Relinquishing my burdens and trusting the carver’s tools and methods takes great commitment.  I am carved commitment or no, but things turn out better when I don’t flinch.

If you can’t make hay then mow the lawn

*

IN A BACKWATER

There is a place so removed, uninspired, ignorance flourishes
I hate to go there.
I avoid it when I can
Today I could not avoid it.
Today I saw the gable end of a small barn
Half hidden in the scrub trees.
On the face of the gable end are two plywood cutouts
They are large, taking up the major portion of the space.
The first is a budgie, a bright blue parakeet, 7 or 8 feet tall.
It is tilted to its side, it looks dyslexic but intriguing
Above it is a cutout of a black guitar, similar in length.
Hanging long ways across the top, almost from eve to eve.
I don't know what it means.
Why they are there.
Who could have placed them.
A story is there,
Just sticking its tongue out at me.
I can hardly bear it.
I think of God and laugh.
If my God has nothing better to do then tease me,
I need a better God.
I think of my Higher Power and wonder if the power is curious too.
Am I overlapping a layer of consciousness I have no part in?
Is this subliminal previews of my future?
Am I too nosey for my own good?
I just don't know
It could be something all together different
I have only time.
Time will tell in the end it always does.
I hate to wait

Vlog: http://youtu.be/noWs8WCwREk

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

Dion

January 7

Dion

Everything in the world happened before I was born and the cinders sift through my fingers.  Accomplishing cohesion of the ashes is a goal I have not yet achieved.  Cremains precious but meager are a difficult building material, shifting due to emotions and wind, I find they stick too well to my lungs and not well enough to anything else.  Tears help, but I will not cry forever.  I must draw from a fresh water source and wet the powdery scratch I have inherited and form the world anew.

Use caution when interacting with the crème de la crème this may trigger intolerance

*

OLD GOLDFISH

I got them when my sobriety was new.
They were tiny little guys, ten cent feeders.
I wanted my stepson to sleep soundly
In our strange jumble of a home, fresh from purchase.

The tank sat on a dresser under his elevated bed
Space to fit my hand to feed them
No space for baby boy to climb in
I loved my goldfish.

There is never a NO with goldfish
Feed them as often as you want
Let the water get cold
Put them in a big space, small place, plants, no plants.

NO was so hard, I hate and fear No.
I am hard, fish are easy.
Tears and mesmerizing aquarium
Meetings and steps.

I could not keep myself alive
I don't know how I kept the fish fed.
The program kept me going,
Kept hope flowing and the fish swam.

In this century when we are finally outliving wild goldfish
We are sober together,
By the grace of a Higher Power, in this century.
It's been a wonderful time.

I am grateful to be here with the goldfish.
I am grateful the goldfish are here for me.
Expecting so little
Maybe I could return the favor

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/BVWOAXsGMBI

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

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.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/p26JfqUHyEs

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

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

Bells

October 4

BELLS

The bells are ringing but no one sings.  There are no peals of laughter and that’s just fine, for pleasure is not the only response to sound.  Shock and distain are other options, too.  I have what I want in relationship to the buzz in my ear, equal opportunity attitude, pro and con.  Some songs bring joy when they end.  I have to lower my expectation of pleasure and value my distaste for tinkling sounds or any other preordained sweetness.

See through your problems.

*

Jeopardy

Today I tore down the isolation booth.

I didn’t live in there exactly;

sometimes I stuffed God in there

and went out for a ride.

I left that shack stand for far, too long;

a testimony to ill conceived,

ham-handed, control freaks everywhere.

I said all I wanted was some peace,

but a vacuum is not tranquility

and escape won’t substitute either.

Since the live studio audience has gone home

and the house lights are dimmed,

I feel pretty foolish for playing

round after round on my own.

This game was never any fun

and the sponsors were death merchants and scavengers

whose interest lay in destruction and nothing else.

I must not cast aspersions, I didn’t care

that the contest was merely an upright pit

with a lethal pendulum, I used it as a hideout and a lair,

A place whose walls

I could keep between me and my Higher Power

and an activity I could depend on

to keep me free from living a life.

It all came to the ground today;

I walk over the splinters and shards,

I know there has to be a better game

and I’m ready to play.

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

Just a Taste of Sunshine

September 20

JUST A TASTE OF SUNSHINE

The sunrise is so beautiful I want to taste it.  Like a child who needs to put everything in her mouth to really know it, I feel the need for a bite.  I want to participate in every way.  I want to blend with the color of the sky, join the horizon and dip beyond.  Look at me, who in the past sounded every retreat, now I leap toward life.  I stretch my arms to take it all in, merging with the continuum on this greatest of adventures.  The sun raises the charge and I lick my lips in anticipation.

Find the stop signs in your life.

*

Mercy

The rearview holds the vision,

the sad figure on the corner as I drive away,

all that is left to me are memories of God,

the rest I ejected and sped from as fast as I could.

I cannot face what is left

when I make God homeless and unloved.

Though living together was tough sometimes,

living alone is unbearable.

Nothing cooks right, cleans right, tastes right or smells right,

even the moon won’t rise right when I am strictly on my own.

And God wasn’t built for the streets,

that corner is not someplace my Higher Power fits in.

We are meant to be together

and apart the world spins off its measure.

Pitiful is what I am, so I swing around the block,

fling open the door and take pity on God and go home.

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

Frequently

June 4

FREQUENTLY

When my daydream gets so threadbare I no longer use it, I must turn to other sources.  When I cannot conjure on my own and elucidation makes me cross eyed, I must turn to HP.  I have puttered and prolonged the way to naming this legendary and fabulous enigma.  I drew out even longer any desire for close association with the same.  I have milled with the millstone and surfed in the whirlpool, dragged my feet and thrown a fit, but this only stalled the inevitable result.  Naming and interaction is the need and now is the time.  I have a Higher Power and I choose to call it Frequently.

Dreams grow wings if you let them.

*

Eggshells and Bethlehem

A stable is a place to keep a horse

and in fairytales a place to birth a baby,

but stable is the story I told myself about you.

Solid, a model of strength

and here you are a tripod,

upright only if the pressure is evenly applied.

I blame myself for lopsided need

and try to find a way to keep this coupling standing.

Stripped down to minor contact

I wonder if you actually remember me

and then I wonder if I remember myself.

This is what is at stake, this is the trophy I lose

when I fall for you and you fall down.

Where is the girl I worked so hard to create?

Broken eggshells litter the nest

and I look for the chick I used to be.

I fear losing you,

I cry at the thought of losing us,

I die at the loss of me.

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

Voluntary Mute

March 10

VOLUNTARY MUTE

I have learned I don’t have to answer just because someone asks.  I have learned to change subjects.  I have learned it is better to say nothing.  Repeating the phrase, ‘it’s just my opinion,’ followed with, ‘I could be wrong,’ has proven insufficient.  Somehow things frequently turn out worse than I expected but, as of yet, none have turned out better; this upsets.  People become angry when I am correct; they are less angry when I’m silent.  I tell the truth and trouble follows.  I didn’t get sober to lie.  So, I keep my mouth shut.  There is no reason to distress folks, and reality has a way of doing that.  Silence is my new defense.  I hide inside of it and find my new freedom.  Unless it concerns my sponsor, my sponsee, or my cherished friend, battening down the hatches saves me from a tempest and spares others their outbursts.

Persuade yourself to breathe.

*

Conception 2

My active voice is the elixir of fire

my addiction would have me snuff

in order to keep us hidden from each other,

me hidden from you, you hidden from me

and no one noticing you or I pouring the drinks.

Minus my active voice

I slip easily into unconsciousness,

my effectiveness doused.

My active voice is the light in my room

the candle in my window,

the glow within me,

which illuminates my days as well as my nights.

Moving ever forward the gyroscopic precision

of this voice never fails me

if I keep my “listening ears” turned on and tuned in.

My active voice is and will always be

the live wire connection of my Higher Power

uniting with me through people, places and things.

My effective conscience

is everything that results from this bond.

I run at an unfathomable rate of efficiency

when my active voice is on,

my feet fail to touch the ground as I fly to right action,

The nature of my effective conscience

is just that, nature,

as natural as if I were not carrying a fatal malady,

but instead possessed the secret to serenity,

which in fact I do: sobriety.

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

Pigs

February 17

PIGS

“Never try to teach a pig to sing.  It wastes your time and annoys the pig.”

Talking to a chrysalis about flight is like talking to a fetus about dry land.  Descriptions of future events and possibility are lost in the translation.  To the uninitiated, these realities sound like gibberish and flights of fancy or foolish dogma.  Yet, I am drawn to talk of these things, imagine and describe them.  I am changed by this procedure.  I am transformed in the details.  When I can accurately depict it, I am taking the stride into living it.  I am my own pig.  I have taught myself to sing and have wasted no time at all.

List your favorites so you don’t forget yourself.

*

Suzy Q’s Mother

Through process of elimination

I have had to learn who G-d is and who G-d isn’t.

When it comes down to my understanding

everything incomprehensible is off the table

and what is left is mine, all mine.

I can’t fathom an all powerful G-d;

therefore my G-d is not all powerful.

I cannot begin to comprehend a vengeful G-d,

as you might have guessed; my G-d is not vengeful.

Because of these constraints I have

a non-omnipotent G-d, one with limitations and bounds.

This doesn’t mean I love my G-d any less

in fact it may be why I love my G-d so very much.

And G-d loves me with a Mother love

that trails me to the depths and heights of the path,

but like any mother, she can’t do everything.

My G-d is accomplished and wonderful,

but there are days that I need things,

which lay outside my Higher Power’s area of expertise

and I must turn to help beyond our little circle of two.

This is not easy at first.

We both feel awkward in the attempt,

but Suzy Q lives two houses down

Her mother still has her hook shot from college

and since my mom’s experience of basketball

is that it’s the court you walk through to go play tennis,

I ask Mrs. Q with help making the three point shots.

I don’t have to understand Suzy Q’s mother,

I leave that to Suzy.

I just have to ask for help,

learn the jump and go home when I’m done.

It’s nice to be able to slam dunk,

but there is no place like home.

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

Trust

January 31

TRUST

My sponsor always says, “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 farmers see me as a plant to be tended.  The cowboys view me as a horse to be broken.  To fishermen, 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, and for each of them to see me through their own filter, if they see me at all.  From me, they can expect the same.

Find a corner, then pitch a tent.

*

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.

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 a Backwater

January 9

IN A BACKWATER

There is a place so removed, uninspired, ignorance flourishes.  I hate to go there.  I avoid it when I can. Today I could not avoid it.  Today I saw the gable end of a small barn, half hidden in the scrub trees.  On the face of the gable end are two plywood cutouts, large, taking up the major portion of the space.  The first cutout is a budgie, a bright blue parakeet, 7 or 8 feet tall.  Tilted to its side, it looks dyslexic, but intriguing.  Above it is a cutout of a black guitar, similar length, hanging long ways across the top, almost from eave to eave.  I don’t know what it means, why they are there, who could have put them there.

  A story’s tongue is sticking out at me; I can hardly bear it.  I think of God, and laugh.  If my God has nothing better to do than tease me, I need a better God.  I think of my Higher Power and wonder if the power is curious, too.  Am I overlapping a layer of consciousness I have no part in?  Is this a subliminal preview of my future?  Or am I far too nosy for my own good?  My sponsor says the latter.  I just don’t know.  It could be something all together different.  I have only time.  Time will tell in the end; it always does.  I hate to wait.

Compare and contrast eggplant and green beans.

*

Crestfallen

“Whoa is me,

I have crested the rise only

to slide down the other side.

Hard work and determination culminated in victory

but alas it was short lived.

Success is barely meaningful if it isn’t permanent.

Poor, poor dear,

I will have to strive once more

at the face of a new challenge or even worse

might have to make another run at this one.

How shall I ever bear it?” I lament, my sponsor smiles.

“Are you learning to be amused at yourself

or hoping to bring back melodrama to the everyman?”

She queries.

“A little of both I think,

whining is a consolation to me,

” I reply.

“It’s nice that you’re not doing it at me,

but even nicer that you have let your achievements

teach you to laugh at your mishaps,”

said my sponsor with a kiss to my forehead.

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

Old Goldfish

January 8

OLD GOLDFISH

I got them when my sobriety was new.  They were tiny little guys, ten-cent feeders.  I wanted my stepson to sleep soundly in our strange jumble of a home, fresh from purchase.  The tank sat on a dresser under his elevated bed, space to fit my hand to feed them, no space for baby boy to climb in.  I loved my goldfish.  There is never a no with gold fish; feed them as often as you want; let the water get cold.  Put them in a big space, a small space, plants, no plants.  No was so hard.  I hate and fear no.  I am hard, fish are easy.

Tears and mesmerizing aquarium.  Meetings and steps.  I could not keep myself alive. I don’t know how I kept the fish fed.  The program kept me going, kept hope flowing, and the fish swam.  In this century, when we finally are outliving wild goldfish, we are sober together by the grace of our Higher Power.  It’s been a wonderful time.  I am grateful to be here with the goldfish.  I am grateful the goldfish are here for me, expecting so little.  Maybe I could return the favor.

“I’m grateful you appreciate the fish,” says my sponsor.

Find a bell to ring

*

Lathe

Turning into a spin,

the edge cuts into my misconceptions,

the point sharp and accurate to a fault

digs into the excess I carry around,

keeping me from my useful purpose.

A good eye and steady hand

are needed lest breakthrough ruin me.

Not that all is ever lost

for a spoon with a hole

in the bowl will stir a soup smooth.

Relinquishing my burdens and trusting the carver’s tools and methods

takes great commitment.

I am carved commitment or no,

but things turn out better when I don’t flinch.

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

What's that in the Pool?

December 14

What’s that in the Pool?

Parts of the Rocky Mountains look like algae bloom out in the Indian Ocean.  Parts of me look like parts of you and here we go with oneness being nothing more than pattern recognition and optical illusion; though I hope there is more to it than that.  My hurt might not be your hurt, but I have a sense of it.  Likewise your hope may not resemble mine, but it cheers you just the same and we are all better for it.  We needn’t replicate each other or attempt imitation, but recognition is a kind thing and art is what we all have to share.

Stain your napkin

*

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 anyway
God is tucked in a corner or pocket or drawer.
I flee to the great out-of-doors
And find earth, nature and wind.

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 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.

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

Even at the Bottom

August 30

Even at the Bottom

Why is it that I feel G-d leads me to the path, but expects me to travel it alone?  In all honesty it feels more like G-d 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, will not leave here alone; I am never alone, even at the bottom of the stair.

Pat-down unwanted thoughts

*

HARVEST TIMING

The harvest fits in the growing season

And the oak fits inside the acorn.

My sober mind fits right in my sober time.

The soul of everything rubs across

The hind leg of a cricket to sing.

The infinite machinery of the universe spins

But you stand there questioning

The existence of a Higher Power.

Well, that’s who you are

But I have only one question for you

Who else could have made

All the best tomatoes come from Jersey?

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

If Garfunkel Was Here

May 26

If Garfunkel Was Here

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

Rinse off your first impressions

*

FREQUENTLY

When my daydream gets so threadbare

I no longer use it

I must turn to other sources.

When I cannot conjure on my own

And elucidation makes me cross-eyed

I must turn to HP.

I have puttered and prolonged

The way to naming this legendary

And fabulous enigma.

I drew out even longer

Any desire for close association

With the same.

I have milled with the millstone

And surfed in the whirlpool

Drug my feet and thrown a fit.

This only stalled the inevitable result,

Naming and interaction is the need

And now is the time

I have a Higher Power

And I chose to call it

Frequently.

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.

Box-a-week Tao

May 12

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.

Try not to lose things you never had

*

CHOICE

Growth is my decision

I don’t need conflict or catastrophe to bring me to change

I choose each day, come what may, to roll out the refuse

I am not tempted to leave it in to rot just because the sun is shining

Good days are good times to improve

How could integrity be retarded by joy?

I am not punished into recovery

I will never accept a Higher Power who set up a system like that

And give wide birth to people who claim their Higher Power did

My bottom may have been an inducement to start

But choice keeps me coming back.