Choice

May 21

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 I give wide berth to people who claim their Higher Power did.  My bottom may have been an inducement to start but choice keeps me coming back.

Smile in the mirror and look into your eyes.

*

Balustrade

Just because you appeared from the dark

doesn’t make you a wizard.

Just because you make the world safe for mankind

doesn’t make you Hercules,

nor does your power and foresight make you his father.

Your resourcefulness and guile doesn’t make you Ulysses.

And just because you spend so much time

strapped upon that cross doesn’t make you,

well, we all know the rest of that refrain.

Human is what you are whether I see that in you or not.

Human is a blessing even if it feels to me a curse.

I need the superhuman strength you seem to offer

but I must live in the world of what is real.

I want to be stolen away to the safety of your lair

and not live on my feet and fight for my life.

I have to stop wishing to be your captive

and work harder at simply being your friend.

If I can let you down off your pedestal perhaps

I could then climb down off mine.

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

Matinizing

May 20

Martinizing

The price of upkeep scares me, it daunts me even.  I pay the initial cost, I have bitten that bullet of required outlay; the continued charges for maintenance push my face in the mud until my ears clog. Avoiding the need of perpetual responsibility to things, relationships, life, doesn’t change the reality; rather it embeds in my skin a slick denial and an indignant retort to the drycleaners and shoe-shiners of the world.   Waste and want play tag inside a misunderstanding of what is required of me; of what life requires in general.  I must make quietude, draw a map and find my way to this psychic change; unfortunately all the little voices scream “Yes, you paid the price to see the show, but you don’t make enough to stay!” 

Check your mileage so you know how far you’ve come

*

POWER

When power arrives

It comes complete with a blindfold

Mask and lullaby

I am blinded to what effect I have

Others can not see me

Only the unchanging masquerade covering my face

All my fears and apprehensions are soothed

By the melody singing in my ear

I am possessed

The hard thump of the bottom reaching up to get me

Is my sole hope of release

I can’t reason my way back from a trip with power

The isolation is too far reaching

My senses numbed

My thinking biased

Salvation as a cold smack is the jolt required

Fire takes fire

Power takes the same

Space

May 31

SPACE

I stand behind the podium and talk about the event horizon, which brought me into these rooms.  My audience: other unwitting astronauts whose lives, like mine, were deconstructed by the Black Hole of addiction.  Though the time and place may be different, the physics of compulsion and allergy are precise and repetitive.  Nodding heads affirm my calculations to be accurate with the vectors and trajectories of their own experience.  I conclude, with the gratitude of a reassembled life, and pray, with gravity, for my feet to stay on the ground.

Toast your bread with satisfaction.

*

The Attention Tax

Paying attention is the price exacted for living in this society.

A taxation which is like a leach;

it takes the life force, diverts my brain waves,

claims the water rights to my river of thought.

What is left I use to wash off what I can,

never quite managing to feel clean or clear.

I sit in the mud puddle

still unsure if I understand what just happened;

harboring a dark fear of the wave to come.

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?

Burning with Desire

August 27

Burning with Desire

You cannot stop the flames from licking me by telling me I am not on fire. For some reason you do not perceive the flames; you do not know fire. I cradle the desperate hope that you will recognize the ashes when the burn is done. By then it is too late for rescue, but the field is then wide open for regret. Resplendent is what I thought I was before the fire broke out. Now I feel like a misunderstood mansion torched to make way for a Walmart.

Dream your own dreams

*

FUNK & WAGNALL’S BACK PORCH

Bottoms come sealed in envelopes

From unknown accountants.

Amazing how many nominees and how few winners.

The audience filled with past recipients

Hold their collective breaths.

They pray for this year’s finalist

And pray a bigger prayer

Of thanks to this years donors,

The ones who prove with their lives

That it hasn’t gotten better out there.

The speeches are the same.

A gratitude list and maybe a punch line.

The smiles and tears fresh but familiar.

When the lights go out on this night,

The days of diligence begin once again

So no one need loose their seat

And we can all celebrate here next year together.

Screaming Lethargy

September 26

SCREAMING LETHARGY



The screaming lethargy of being alive after many years of wanting something else, the exhaustion of pulsing, breathing, waves and waves of thinking. Yet as tired as I am, I am. Here without a doubt, I stand. No crawling for I have not fallen, no climbing for I have reached the plain. I wait for the rain to wash over me, the truth to run through me, time to pass by me. As if on a free trip to an unwelcome destination I arrive with randomly packed bags and low expectations. I’m here now. The train doesn’t seem to be moving on. I might as well leave the station, nothing to do on the platform. There may be points of interest or flowers to be smelled. I step haltingly and fear making any connection to this unbidden place. My name is unknown; I befriend the lamppost, the birds, the street. I am tired of travel, fearful of arrival. Fury courses through my veins but the weather is pleasant, I might take off my coat and stay.

Do You Hear That Sound?

September 10

DO YOU HEAR THAT SOUND?



I was running on empty and thought I was getting along that way but the smoke gave me away. My life had caught on fire and I burned it to the ground. I thought nothing had been apparent until it all lay in ashes. My sponsor said, “no, we all knew when your tank ran dry. The sucking sound could be heard for miles around.”
I asked her, if that were true, why I hadn’t heard it myself?
She said, she guessed I had my denial turned up too loud.


Box a gift to be set free at a later date.

Alice

August 6

ALICE


Because I even wore out my welcome at the Mad Hatter’s house, I can sit on my hands at my sponsor's table and listen, listen, listen. If I had been able to make a place for myself with the looking-glass folk, I could never have let myself lose my eccentricities and join in the fellowship. Going down further than a rabbit hole, I lost my need to chase or scramble after bunnies for time or card tricks. No more illusions for me. I am awake and shaded by the tree of AA branching over me. Sisters I didn’t know take my hand.


Dance with change.