Yes, that too

September 11

YES, THAT TOO

When kindness becomes a weakness, when mental agility becomes emotional instability, it’s time to reassess everything.  I cannot leave any thing off my inventory because my grandma, or society or the preacher says it’s a good thing to be.  Every blessing can be a curse; all my characteristics have their dark side.  I have to list the entirety of my cargo and keep a watchful eye.  I have to moderate my investment in all my abilities or I could lose myself.  Warmth is nice but I don’t want Death Valley.  Integrity requires balance or depraved indifference will be the outcome.  Weak and strong, right and wrong, it all goes on the scale.

Be generous with yourself, then others.

*

Louet

Consolidating fuzz into yarn

makes me a friend to sheep everywhere.

Spinning the filaments of truth into cables of life

does not impress the mutton in anyway,

but sure does my mental health a world of good.

Free floating fiber is bad for my lungs

and piles lint all around.

Giving things a firm twist

pulls together what used to be fluff

and keeps me warm and dry.

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

Fine Print

April 9

FINE PRINT

I can scrawl the wall with everything I know.  I can fill my books, chapter and verse, with pure and honest hope, but let me begin the precision of language and watch.  My once open face becomes tight; my free associations peek regularly around each corner.  Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare.  Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical and God floats off untethered.  Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers.  Scrupulous observance never advances my sails.  I must meet life with an open hand.  The devil may not be in the details but be sure to check the fine print.

Open one eye and wink at the possibilities.

*

Stumbling Under the Tenth Step

When I’ve been outside of my mind

it is so hard to tell when I’ve come home again.

The landmarks take on such distortion in memory

that the facts seem bloated or anorexic

as I turn my face from side to side.

Old journals remind me of old journeys

and perhaps there are accurate landmarks mentioned

but how can I know for sure that these too

are not just the ravings of a mind gone mad.

Real or imagined I must take the daily count

and try to keep the score

in favor of the actual.

I don’t always know that I’ve fallen

until I inventory the dirt on my face,

but better that I face the dirt

than live the delusion of a mole.

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

Genius

September 7

Genius

I am often bonded to a self which thinks I know everything and when in doubt believes I should know even if I don’t.  Freeing me of this requires the constant support of friends and neighbors’ assuring me that in a capricious world willingness is a more practical resource; it packs neatly and handles most jobs with aplomb.  Staying consistently free from the bondage of self requires truckloads of willingness and the spirit of humility and sometimes even forgiveness.  I am freer when I like myself, for the true bondage of self is the hatred of self.

Acknowledge the marks left by the street you came from

*

YES---THAT TOO

When kindness becomes weakness,

When mental agility becomes emotional instability,

It’s time to reassess everything.

I cannot leave things off my inventory

Because my Grandma, society or the preacher says

It’s a good thing to be.

Every blessing can be a curse.

All my characteristics have their dark side.

I have to list the entirety of my cargo

And keep a watchful eye.

I have to moderate my investment

In all my abilities or lose myself.

Warmth is nice but I don’t want Death Valley.

Integrity requires balance

Or depraved indifference will be the outcome.

Weak or strong, right or wrong.

It all goes on the scale.

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

From Mind to Pen to Paper to Palm

July 2

From Mind to Pen to Paper to Palm

What a relief to have exteriorized all the swirl of thought, which normally swarms my mind, waiting to take the stage and run through their numbers.  Then like deciphering a code I was able to cross out all the irrelevant and redundant information, leaving me with a clear answer.  Once there standing on its own; it was obvious and easily explained how two plus three is five. I just love anything that can be explained all on one hand and there it was tidy and neatly fitted in the nest of my palm, easy to grasp hold of with my fingers or my mind. 

Slip an orange into your dreams

*

NOUN, VERB, ADJECTIVE

Model Sobriety [mode’el sobriite] n,v,adj.

1. Model Sobriety acts like clay

Durable and flexible it molds to any situation.

2. Model Sobriety is like a clotheshorse

Everything you put on it fits and looks good.

3. Model Sobriety is the 24 hour version

Of a life-long process.

4. Model Sobriety is a set of axioms

With which we interpret truth.

5. Model Sobriety is what we put in the window

For other sufferers to see.

6. Model Sobriety is the mirror we use

To learn what is natural.

7. Model Sobriety eliminates extremes

In behavior and thinking.

8. Model Sobriety is the mode

By which we become a channel.

9. Model Sobriety is the definition

In and of my life.

Noun, Verb, Adjective

Cargo Lost, Cargo Found

December 30

CARGO LOST, CARGO FOUND

I fill the pallet of a new year's sobriety and, when it has been accomplished, make a manifest and strap this pallet with the others on the flatbed of my life.  The cargo is secure and weighty; there is ample pressure where the rubber meets the road.  I maneuver my rig carefully.  I feel assured as I stream with the traffic on the byways.  The power and magnitude of my transport prompts in me overconfidence.  I fail to realize variation in weather or road conditions can jeopardize my journey. Eighteen wheels make for a poor cantilever when traction is lost and top-heavy wins out.  In losing the battle of gravity, inertia and control I realize the past is not a weight I need to haul; all that is necessary is the inventory.  I slip the pages into my pocket and walk the rest of the way.  I am my only freight.

Medicate with laughter and tears.

*

Can’t Walk Back

I chase my reading list, lose my place, fall down, can’t find my page; suddenly there is a whole library beyond my grasp.  I write as fast as I can and so do my fellows the result is more than I can read in three lifetimes.  The glory and pain of freedom is the constriction of time.  I claw at the minutes but the days slip quickly out of reach.  How can I get the great work poured into my mind while still allowing original thought to flow from me? I ask God if I can be reincarnated with my backlist intact but there is no reply.  I know in my heart this life is like hang-gliding on the beach; my shoes and socks are left behind and I fly off over open sea.  So if we are friends now that is surely grand, but if you want to be my friend later, just take a walk in my shoes. 

Yes, That Too

September 11

YES, THAT TOO

When kindness becomes a weakness, when mental agility becomes emotional instability, it’s time to reassess everything.  I cannot leave any thing off my inventory because my grandma, or society or the preacher says it’s a good thing to be.  Every blessing can be a curse; all my characteristics have their dark side.  I have to list the entirety of my cargo and keep a watchful eye.  I have to moderate my investment in all my abilities or I could lose myself.  Warmth is nice but I don’t want Death Valley.  Integrity requires balance or depraved indifference will be the outcome.  Weak and strong, right and wrong, it all goes on the scale.

Be generous with yourself, then others.

*

Louet

Consolidating fuzz into yarn

makes me a friend to sheep everywhere.

Spinning the filaments of truth into cables of life

does not impress the mutton in anyway,

but sure does my mental health a world of good.

Free floating fiber is bad for my lungs

and piles lint all around.

Giving things a firm twist

pulls together what used to be fluff

and keeps me warm and dry.

Inventory

June 22

INVENTORY

“When you say ‘self’ who ever do you mean?” asked my sponsor.  “Do you mean the lovely velvet child or the facade you built to show others?”

“Well, I wish I could answer you, I do,” my reply.

“I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety.  I love that you made it.  When you talk about ridding yourself of ‘self’ I doubt you mean this edifice.  Do you speak of some creature in the past?  Do you know of whom you speak?  Are you parroting then assuming this thing exists solely for you to now dispose of it?”

“I thought ‘self’ was self-evident,” I feebly interject.

“I want names and locations.  If you only suspect some of these entities please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions.  I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals.  I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping.  I see by the bright look on your face I have made myself clear,” she said with conviction.

“So, this is what you meant by self inventory,” I say and sigh.

Draw a maze of exit from a dilemma.

*

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.

Fabulous (the early edition)

June 21

FABULOUS

“I don’t care what else is on the inventory.  You still have to take responsibility for fabulous,” said my sponsor with a determined look on her face.

“But you don’t understand.  The other things on the list make it impossible for me to be fabulous.  You just can’t see how incapable I truly am,” I say as I collapse into a pathetic heap in the overstuffed chair.

“What you don’t comprehend is that fabulous is not affected by your other little grumbling.  You can’t tarnish fabulous; it doesn’t wear away with burden or neglect.  This is why no matter how far you bury it, or misname it, or even flatly deny it, fabulous shines like a beacon and you end up with every Todd, Nick and Martha on your doorstep expecting you to be who you are and let them warm in the glow.  So, my cherub, you can fight it or live with it, but fabulous is here to stay.”

And this ladies and gentlemen is how my sponsor wins all the arguments.

Pour a rainbow into your dreams.

*

Do Not Enter

Putting all the mess

securely behind that door is no protection.

If the keys are changed will I be able to open it?

If the locks retumbled will I crack the combination?

Like a demon sealed within a womb

emergence is inevitable either upon this mortal plain

or cellularly encoded and reborn at a later date.

Prison is what holds captive the innocent,

evil is always at liberty.

Walling off my parts and pieces

severs limbs and destroys thinking.

Loads of cheesecloth is what I need; filter and refilter,

catching all debris.  Putting the toxic things

to better use and making myself free.

Generational River

November 22

Generational River

The history in my genes have cut a channel in the rock of existence; I pour through it everyday. I too change the face of life one grain at a time, though I rarely recognize my affect I am so busy running. Damns, ponding, acts of G-d leave their marks for future readings, but I keep moving. The water is never the same twice; it changes even more than the mineral face and yet its liquid life looks more than unchanged from a distance and is a world filled with variety up close. Circle the globe, the sun, the sands of time, the river of life flows from here to there and back again.

Bake pies to warm the crisp apples

*

CARGO LOST, CARGO FOUND

I fill the pallet of a New Years sobriety
And when it has been accomplished
Make a manifest and strap this pallet
With the others on the flatbed of my life.

The cargo is secure and weighty
And there is ample pressure
Where the rubber meets the road.
I maneuver my rig carefully.

I feel assured as I stream
With the traffic on the byways.
The power and magnitude of my transport
Prompts in me over confidence.

I fail to realize variation
In weather or road conditions
Can jeopardize my journey.
Eighteen wheels make for poor cantilever
When traction is lost and top heavy wins out.

In losing the battle of gravity,
Inertia and control, I realize the past
Is not a weight I need to haul.
All that is necessary is the inventory.

I slip the pages into my pocket
And walk the rest of the way.
I am my only freight.

Genius

September 7

Genius

I am often bonded to a self which thinks I know everything and when in doubt believes I should know even if I don’t. Freeing me of this requires the constant support of friends and neighbors’ assuring me that in a capricious world willingness is a more practical resource; it packs neatly and handles most jobs with aplomb. Staying consistently free from the bondage of self requires truckloads of willingness and the spirit of humility and sometimes even forgiveness. I am freer when I like myself, for the true bondage of self is the hatred of self.

Acknowledge the marks left by the street you came from

*

YES---THAT TOO

When kindness becomes weakness,

When mental agility becomes emotional instability,

It’s time to reassess everything.

I cannot leave things off my inventory

Because my Grandma, society or the preacher says

It’s a good thing to be.

Every blessing can be a curse.

All my characteristics have their dark side.

I have to list the entirety of my cargo

And keep a watchful eye.

I have to moderate my investment

In all my abilities or lose myself.

Warmth is nice but I don’t want Death Valley.

Integrity requires balance

Or depraved indifference will be the outcome.

Weak or strong, right or wrong.

It all goes on the scale.

When is enough, enough?

March 21

When is enough, enough?

“What is the difference between full and all? Don’t know? Well, let me tell you,” said my sponsor with a wink. “Full is when the broccoli that went perfectly with the entrée leaves a pleasant smile on your face, full is when the arrow on the gas gauge points to F, these are little indicators of full. Indications that you have reached all: the wet scary feeling in your mouth after your second piece of pie, all is the gas pouring down the side of your car because you have to try to squeeze more in.”

“Yes, yes,” I reply, “I know when I’ve overdone it; I resent everyone or at least I am cranky about everything. I know when I’m under doing it, too; I get either a lost feeling or the sense that I should be in charge, but how do I really know that I am doing enough?”

“If your sponsor has a good idea of where you are mentally, physically and spiritually; if the people in your home group can count on you to contribute service regularly. If most people in most meetings know not just your face, but also your name. If your sponsees freely admit that you are their sponsor, those are sure signs. Though the biggest signal for me is how constant my contact is. If I’m reluctant to pray I’m usually not doing enough of something.”

Learn from pain

*

MATH

If this is the solution why aren't I happy?
I ask my sponsor in a piteous whine.
You've run the equation and the solution equals happiness?
She queries, that's the whole and total answer?
How many times did you go through the computations?

What's your point?
Are you saying happiness isn't the answer?
What about joy and freedom?
I heard someone say that was the goal
I know that's what I heard.

Let's think about it for a hot second
What would you think
If I worked the steps as hard as I do
And as a result walked around in a perpetual grin?
I'd think you had lost your mind.

So you're telling me you believe
The product of recovery is idiocy?
The thing we all are aspiring to is bliss and nothing but?
No, I guess not.
Then what is the solution for you? I ask.

A tally which fits the day I'm having
Joy sometimes fits that bill
But other days it's sadness or concern
There have been days when disbelief
And dismay were part of the appropriate response.

For me, the solution is having an equation
That helps me respond to life
Instead of reacting to it.
That's better than unending happiness
That's wholeness she said with a grin

Progressive Fourth

February 13

Progressive Fourth

All I can do is stand on the grass and count the shutters, the windows, the doors. At first I cannot approach to inspect any closer than that. Time passes and the other steps work me. I peer through the windows the next time and count the stuffs I can glimpse through the glass. I possess no periscopic vision, but what is in plain sight I reckon. Subsequently I wished to exteriorize and draw the inventory of the house out onto the lawn and tally there wishing to avoid that interior life, the poisoned vixen who haunted there. Time passed and she recovered as did I, into the house I went. I am now able not only to number my possessions; I can assess the flow and function, work patterns, interplay, reliability. I have now appraised not just the what, but the how of my life and progress into tomorrow.

Give cooperation a hand

*

TRAVELING PICTURES

I parked next to a beaten little import.
The well of the passengers side filled
With empty sports drink bottles and soda cans
The dash board was a shrine.

Three taped photographs.
One of a young man and young woman.
One of the young woman and an older woman.
One of the young woman and an enormous marble statue.

There were small carved objects
Affixed to the dash.
Jade and soapstone figures,
Beads and a feather.

The sanctuary in my head is decked out
In a similar manner.
Postcard pictures line my mind.
People I love, trips I took, pets long gone.

The road signs of my journey
Stand as exhibits of a tour of duty
Not always to my liking
But nothing I would trade.

I know clearly where I have been
And study the map to prepare
For the future escapades and loved ones.

Trinkets strung on my life line
Give texture, flavor and flash
To my pilgrimage.

Inventory

June 22

INVENTORY

“When you say ‘self’ who ever do you mean?” asked my sponsor. “Do you mean the lovely velvet child or the facade you built to show others?”
“Well, I wish I could answer you, I do,” my reply.
“I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety. I love that you made it. When you talk about ridding yourself of ‘self’ I doubt you mean this edifice. Do you speak of some creature in the past? Do you know of whom you speak? Are you parroting then assuming this thing exists solely for you to now dispose of it?”
“I thought ‘self’ was self-evident,” I feebly interject.
“I want names and locations. If you only suspect some of these entities please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions. I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals. I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping. I see by the bright look on your face I have made myself clear,” she said with conviction.
“So, this is what you meant by self inventory,” I say and sigh.


Draw a maze of exit from a dilemma.