My Experiences with Tennis

April 12

My Experiences with Tennis

I have held the racket, I have hit the ball, but I have never played with a partner.  I have slammed the fuzzy orb against the wall for long years now, but I have never had a mate.  There were times when I had opponents; yes I’ve had a couple of those, a collaborator though, that I have never had.  I have learned to overcome opposition either through wile or guile.  Slugged my way toward some inevitable outcome, I never expected you on my court.  The game we play is for keeps and the muscles required I have never used, I ache from the pain of ending an atrophy imposed on me by isolation and misunderstanding.  Often I don’t know how to stand, don’t know how to act; don’t know how to be the equal to your service.  I play chase, running after the thing I didn’t see and only faintly felt.  I have come to the place where I know, you and I are a team; you will not be leaving looking for someone better equipped or with greater experience.  It is time for me to lay out in front of you my host of tendencies and inclinations. I’m in the habit of overwhelming with my strength to hide my weakness; I must expose this all to you, the strength and the weakness, and work together for the resolution. I will no longer pretend that I know what is right and wrong in this un-played game.  I fear that I will lose the old game by making this change, all that is familiar put up for grabs to the uncertain outcome of paired sports.  All I truly know is that with you by my side I can never lose and I will learn to do whatever it takes to be your wife.

                                     

Dream with an open mind

*

SOLIDITY

Apprehension stands in the archeological site

Which is my life -----listening

Listening for the rumble of a cement truck to come

And help solidify the shifting and tenuous nature of my existence

A wet and sloppy solution

A solution to be raked and smoothed, covered and cured

Something to build a monument on

Or a place to park my car

The nearby grass looks lush and green

But I dare not leave apprehension alone or it spreads

I stand with it on bad days

And against it on good ones

I pray for the mixer to arrive

Or at least the gravel spreader

I need to fill this hole so it can be a life

And stop being a grave.

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

Katie's Wish

February 20

Katie’s Wish

Does G-d arrange for my parking spot, foil the Colts opponents, release the stains from my dry-cleaning?   Can I ask for the petty and pedantic? All One G-d Faith, reads the side of the soap bottle, but really is there only one?  Like Santa?  The Tooth Fairy?  OZ?  Is my life better or worse for the whimsy?  How would I know?  Why would I care? As long as I live with what I get most times, it truly is okay to ask for what I want sometimes, I mean hell, the Superbowl is only once a year.  I’m allowed to be unreasonable and happy. 

Open your mind more often than seems necessary

*

FOREVER IS NOT AS LONG AS IT USED TO BE

What time gives in permanence it takes in fluctuation
The relationships I stand on to reach with tippy toed grasp
The light of heaven
Flutter by like flounder disturbed from their sandy bed.

My mind probes the past looking for the shroud lines
To hold up the sail of hope.
Togetherness the banner of life,
Bonds to strength, protection, from outside and within.

I yearn for a life of love, unbending and calm
I am met with a tug of war
Which ends in the mud.
Days stretch into years but years are no protection from terminus.

Forever rings in my head.
Promises I have made to myself
Promises I have made to others
Promises made to me are nothing in the face of the promise of tomorrow.

Time flows like air over a row of seedlings, fresh and challenging
Sustaining life and carrying away familiarity.
Forever is not as long as it used to be.
I can live with that, have to live with that.

I shake my fist at the sky
But it won't make love last.
It will not keep my heart from loving again.
Sails which have filled before will fill again.

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

Coocoo's Nest

December 20

COOCOO’S NEST

I ran away to join the zoo hoping a life contained would calm me.  The segregation hit me first; isolated exclusively with those of my stripe drove my thirst for diverse scents and opinion.  Next, the monotony of the landscape bore into my brain.  The well-meaning effort of the keepers bears the mark of folks who go home at night.  The blandness of the food and music lent nothing to the experience, and antiseptic could drive anyone wild.  The final blow, the one that struck constantly and coldly, was the stream of observers waiting to be entertained.

Embrace plain tools and fine minds.

*

Home Fires Burning

I have trouble living with myself,

that is why I live with you.

It takes my mind off the things I don’t wish to face.

What I can busy myself within your service

lightens the load of expectation heaped in my DNA

by my Higher Power and Fate.

Worry is time consuming

and I wile away hours fretting over you

and all your unresolved trifles

while turning my back entirely on my life.

I couldn’t be happier to have you,

though from the corner of my eye

I glimpse God packing your bags.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/EPIQNgKAmmY

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

Navy Duck

November 28

NAVY DUCK

When the postcard is hung upside down the plane flies away on its back.  I know one of those irregular days with the disposition of a bee-stung mule is on its way to visit me.  I have found diplomacy goes a long way and when it runs out, humor is the best fallback, nothing mean or sophomoric, but the ability to laugh is a fortune in the face of a bankrupt day.  When the sun sets on these spare and harrowing days, I mortgage strength from tomorrow and right the picture then try to fly right.

Plod when you can’t skip.

*

The Twelfth of April

When I met you,

you were a power tagged and trapped in a box.

A tiger caught by its toe and yet I could do nothing

but fall under the spell of your roar.

The suppressed growl you leave for me

like an invitation I could never decline.

I write to you a note of explanation;

words testifying to my desire,

which I promise to hold back out of respect for you.

And a wish to survive my drive toward you

and your furious stripes and claws.

Your bite which I long to feel,

yet know I must not ask for.

When I inquire if you have read,

you say with sanguine smile, “Read it to me.”

When I am done and with tear stained face,

all you reply is,

“I have lost my taste for anyone but you.”

Vlog: http://youtu.be/BErwEM4t6Hw

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

Like Peace

November 24

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 we 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.

See through time.

*

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.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/vOk4ICNxMiE

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

Jellyfish and Peanut Butter Cards

November 22

JELLYFISH AND PEANUT BUTTER CARDS

Jellyfish and peanut butter cards make for busy days and cheerful nights, sunlit at the beach and lantern light filled with double-decker solitaire.  Camping as a way of life suits some as they run from their lives.  For the more balanced, camp is a temporary retreat.  To the overly invested, camping is an aberration, a threat to the foundations of civilization as we know it.  I can take a bit of sand in my hair, smoke in the air.  Though I do dread the feeling of coming back to the life I love and feeling like a stranger.  Temporary disengagement estranges me from the place, the things, the dog.  I need time away, variety of experience, expanded horizons.  I need my entrenched home life.  I need it all and must accept the clock never stops running anyplace on the planet even if I am enjoying a good game with sticky camp cards, regaling tales of man-of-war.

Don’t break your wishbone.

*

One and One

The person who has nothing is vague.

The person who has too much alludes.

And these people may falsely mistake one another

for kindred

when what you draw your conclusions from

are the poems and sweet words,

which flow out of these divergent folk.

A paper house is built, but the living is impossible.

Tying strings to dreams doesn’t permit you

to fly away to fairylands it just leaves you prone

to lightening strikes and long wet wicks.

What could be the truth unfolded;

spread broadly for all to see?

Where could the roads so very far apart

lead to a home, a hearth, a life?

Or is this just a field of fantasy flowers blooming in our minds?

Mist is vapor pretending at a marriage

to a world it will soon evaporate and leave.

You and I are passing ships on a short sad night.

Vlog:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSJYcDs6BWE&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

Timely

November 17

TIMELY

Spend a minute to rub the sleep gently from your eyes.

Spend an hour smoothing lotion from one end to the other.

Spend a day in tribute to the gifts you give and gifts given you.

Spend a week researching your goals, dreams and hopes.

Spend a month routing energy to a viable flow.

Spend a year studying truth.

Spend a life living it.

Your life is worth all the time you have.

Take it.

Balance doubt and dreams.

*

Human Sacrifice

How much does it have to cost me

in order for you to feel better?

Why is it that my suffering improves your mood?

Does it confirm for you that you are not alone

when you are feeling scared?

Or does it give you the sense

that at least you’re not as pitiful as me?

Is it pleading that strikes a chord,

is it the animal pain which stirs your compassion?

What about this scenario completes the cycle for you

to be able to move back to your comfort zone?

What happens if I don’t fall to pieces?

If I hold my emotions to my chest,

take them to my sponsor,

in some way keep them from your hungry eyes?

Will you move on and leave me behind?

Will you climb over the hurdle

which currently stands between us?

Or will you store away this bitter thing

like a rotten nut hidden by a Secret Squirrel?

Youtube Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9bRzQNkulA&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

Detail Days

November 7

DETAIL DAYS

Detail days seem like lost, soulless days.  I sort the piles of endless junk mail; catch up on bills, letters, laundry.  I don’t leave the house, but in some way I feel like I’m not in my home.  It’s like a day of pulling out all the needles, splinters and thorns that accumulate under my skin from rough weeks and road rash.  I steel myself to the pain of relief and rescue.  Cleared counters, emptied baskets, finished worry lists leave me with that newly moved in feel.  Piles overwhelm me, but sometimes, details define me.

Can-can in your head.

*

Thief in the Night

The moon ran off the night you left.

Instead of west it headed south with you,

but I doubt it will stay.

You are learning to play a new part,

another ill-suited role

which I don’t believe you will carry off

with much aplomb,

Bad actors have no leg to stand on for critique

You may have found yourself

a kinder critic or a more likened mind.

What you have taken I can’t expect to return,

but what I have gained I will never give up.

I don’t think you ever intended me any harm,

but protection is something you never provided;

something which I was sorely in need of.

I was fortunate to return to the house of my father

for that is the shelter in which I can breathe.

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 Privilege of Sunrise

October 22

THE PRIVILEGE OF SUN RISE

I wake, happily, at 5:30.  I will again see the show beyond compare.  In stark contrast to the mornings I filled with moping or sober angst, shades of the same dark color, I shuck my covers, bathing and dressing with purpose, and propel myself forward.  I hate to miss the first act.  Dawn, the tint of clouds dusky and sweet.  I’m on my route; I start my open-eyed prayer.  For all those living at the hands of an addict, Be with them.  Please.  For the addicts, help us all to fail fast.

I scan the horizon, checking all the views.  I reflect on the striking change, earthbound green and gold, sky held pink, orange and blue.  The silhouettes of trees exquisitely lit from behind, the sweet moon sharing the sunrise with me, add to the pleasure of my drive.  I start my gratitude list.  Beginning with my sobriety...each moment, the people, the life, the thinking, the feeling, and my ability to share it all with you.

Don’t become overly fond of nothingness for it may consume you.

*

Jacks

Born crazy, is that better than becoming deranged?

Do birth affects excuse my unrepentant glee?

Does irrepressible sardonic wit

explain the order of restless exposition?

Can you count on Cicadic enthusiasm to carry me,

or flightless fancy to keep me down?

I am beyond redemption, beyond reception, beyond device.

I arrived riddled with chaotic cracks,

but I am more than just a glaze

and deep down I’m more than sound,

So walk with my wild side

and your thoughts I’ll rearrange.

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

Works

September 24

WORKS

I cry the waterworks so necessary to the healing of my heart.  I explode with the fireworks required for anger to set living boundaries.  I sleep the sleep of angels, as I link to dreamworks allowing mental maintenance to occur.  Slipping into my political face I make time for public works.  I return to my abode, call the pie maker and order ‘the works.’  Have it delivered so I can face the mountain of homework waiting for me and bearing my name.

Suggest solutions in your diary.

*

No Dialing Tonight.

When it is late at night and I can’t sleep

I wander and putter and plan my dreams.

I hold out hopes and wash their faces;

pray for rain and clean all traces.

Thunderstorms rumble and lightning strikes;

I tune up the plumbing and wipe down the pipes.

All the paint and promises in the world won’t change me;

I’m still lost in the dark without you.

Tear stains are friendly till I wash them away

leaving blotchy eyes that can’t be explained;

an aching heart that keeps on ticking

and wishes that can’t come true.

Sunday morning is here, too soon

and life rolls on whether you think it should.

Tiny thoughts come out to play

and sad, sad fears keep them at bay.

But the dog is curled up under the covers without a care;

I long to disturb her but do not dare.

She is the queen here and I’m but the naïve;

I’ll tend to my writing and try to be brave.

For the dawn will follow this endless nocturne;

the whole world will be safe once more.

I will cry but it’s all too late;

though you are merely a phone call away.

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 Call

August 30

THE CALL

Within the sound of your voice

I sing

In the beat of your heart

I heal

I feel in your touch

And dance when your toe starts to tap

I see myself in your beauty

I warm inside your embrace

Your thoughts are my inspiration

Your lungs breathe me in and blow me out

I soar in your flight

And dream in your waking

I ring in your ears

Fall with your tears

I’m lost in you

Found in you

Travel and lounge in you

I share all your rantings

And hide in your secrets

You hear and caress me

My darling

You know who I am

Return to an old joy for a visit.

*

Rex

Hungry dogs who love me anyway,

dance around waiting to be fed.

If they didn’t love they

would take bloody bites and I don’t forget it.

These puppies have teeth,

like cigarettes I want to smoke but don’t.

And meanwhile back on the farm

I seek to quiet the whines and barking

of the unfed, malnourished familiarity

which writhes at my ankles and jumps at my knees.

I can no longer pat my disquiet on the head

and expect it to stay or heal.

I must hunt down the beast which bothers me

and feed the meat of it to the pups.

I must not leave the lopers to quarry my burden

if I want to remain master

and leave them to be pet.

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

Forever isn't as long as it used to be

August 22

FOREVER IS NOT AS LONG AS IT USED TO BE

What time gives in permanence it takes in fluctuation.  The relationships I stand on to reach, with tippy-toed grasp, the light of heaven flutter like flounder disturbed from their sandy bed.  My mind probes the past looking for the shroud lines to hold up the sails of hope.  Togetherness, the banner of life, bonds to strength, protection from outside and within.  I yearn for a life of love, unbending and calm.  I am met with the tug of war, which ends in mud.  Days stretch into years but years are no protection from terminus.  Forever rings in my head.  Promises I have made to myself, promises I have made to others, promises made to me are nothing in the face of the promise of tomorrow.  Time flows like air over a row of seedlings, fresh and challenging, sustaining life and carrying away familiarity.  Forever is not as long as it used to be.  I can live with that, have to live with it.  I can shake my fist to the sky but it won’t make love last.  It will not keep my heart from loving again.  Sails, which have filled before, will fill again.

Love yourself green or blue or pink.

*

Up to Date

The future is a prison I escape by staying in today.

The tiny windows which open to strange foreknowledge

have barbs rather than bars and inflict painful wounds

when I attempt too close examination.

My business is here and now; the currency like manna,

good only for the duration of the day and nothing further.

Pretty dreams and colossal disaster float as baubles on the horizon

but I need to take down my focus from such far off vistas;

adjusting the optics for a clear view of where I am standing.

Circumscription is what the destiny becomes

when I try to live in it too soon.

Novelty is what it is to be living in the very moment

I am currently breathing in.

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

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

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

Never Let Go

August 14

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of a transparency the other becomes reflective.  When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me, I see the true face of its results.  Because I know now the destructive possibilities, I must print the picture and post it on the wall, for the day may come when addiction appears as a light for me and the mirror will be gone.  I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me and my sensibilities catch on fire.  The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler.  The glare of day can be harsh or bright.  Light is forever shifting.  I cannot count on shadows for predictions.  I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember and hold hands and never let go.

Sort advice like laundry.

*

Participant Observer

Underneath it all I am more than naked;

I am hidden by exposure.

My body can never be as nude

as life with you in my thoughts.

My mind is a polygraph you wander through.

I have determined this is more than safe

and unlock the closets.

You are not my warden looking for contraband,

nor the janitor looking for trash,

you are here, you are my friend.

Having a better look around

simply to know me better

and to love me well.

Your unfamiliar stride is exciting,

I show off the places I long for you to see

and stand aside from the rest,

it is all yours to look through.

I do not resist.

You are my peaceful guardian;

I am your willing charge.

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

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

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

I Know

August 11

I KNOW

I know more than I understand.  I know more than I let on.  I know right from wrong, left from right, uphill from down.  I know you have my best interest at heart.  I know I often don’t.  I know it hurts when I fall but holding on isn’t easy.  I know that wanting is not needing and needing is not enough.  I know old thinking breeds old action but new thinking is often wild and requires two minds for review.  I know to look three ways before crossing the street because trouble sometimes hits head on.  I know that if life is the question yes is the answer.

Instruct the youth living within.

*

T before S

When happiness is hard work

I have to learn to look for the lie.

There must be a lie, for happiness flows

unrestrained when not dammed.

What was built too far up river for me to see,

dries out my once liquid existence;

leaving me to flounder in the shallows.

I can’t allow myself to flop in the muck

of waters muddied with deceit.

I will permit myself to look for clear bright prospects

from melting glaciers and accustom myself to the invigoration

of a life lived under a loving watchful eye.

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

Presto!

August 7

PRESTO!

Just because I own pointy boots doesn’t mean I can corral the cows.  I have in my possession many things of subtle intent, but they can’t just transform me.  The wings from Halloween don’t make me an angel.  The Big Book on the shelf won’t sober me up. Nothing holds the magic to change me.  I can only change with help.  Action, action and more action is the magician's sleight of hand.  It slides my hand from glass to grace.  I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat.

Play with your oatmeal.

*

I Beg

The embarrassment of need

is a haunting guest who will not leave.

I turn in a tight circle trying to find a way

to detach  this wart and move gracefully

from the site of devastation.

But it looms large

and overshadows today’s possibilities

and robs tomorrows gold.

What I cannot do for myself,

the magic I cannot yet perform,

stands between me and contentment.

It stands there wearing your face;

touching my mind with your fingertips.

I pray that you are not the answer

for I cannot depend on you.

I think of you and the little bell rings

and I am hungry.

Desire is a gift, desiring you is the burden

whose shadow I cannot escape.

I close my eyes to the light you emit;

I cannot close my heart, all that’s left is pleading;

please come home and fill me or leave

and lock the door and let me grieve in peace.

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

Far Off Places

July 18

FAR OFF PLACES

Meetings too near home are unsatisfying to me.  On smooth, simple days local meetings are fine; I catch a meeting, just slip it in.  On rough days I yearn for an out of town meeting.  After these many 24’s I’ve come to realize I need the ride as much as I need the meeting.  Like a discontented baby I need more than just a trip around the block.  The comfort of taking flight in my car is equaled by arriving at some far off AA. Fresh faces and new-takes-on-old-woes are an antidote to my colicky attitude.  The drive back offers me a sense of triumphant homecoming.  A good meeting can be had anywhere.  Sometimes I just need a change of place or change of pace.

Keep a lock of your own hair.

*

Cicatrix and Love

The mark left by injury is indelible

though it may heal, the consequence remains.

This is also true of love.

I am branded and changed by your affection.

The improvement wrought in me does not leave when you do.

If you stop loving me,

can you no longer remember my name,

 my face,

my sigh;

I am better for having had your love if only for a short time.

Good medicine offers lasting results;

the miracle of your love is my health.

The blush in my cheek,

the revitalization I feel is traceable to you,

to the days you held me in your heart

and the nights you held me in your arms.

And though I want you back in my world

the best of you lives on in my life.

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

Magic Wand

July 16

MAGIC WAND

“Why are you wearing that hat and waving that star studded stick?"  I asked my sponsor.

“Isn’t this what you want, a magic wand?” she replied.

“Whatever are you talking about?  I don’t want you to play wizard.”

“Don’t you?  You thought walking into your first meeting would------poof-----make you all better.  When that didn’t work, you held your breath for 90 days.  When that also proved a disappointment, you let the air out of your blue face and started the white-knuckle routine for one year.  At the end of twelve months, you released your arthritic grip and started scheming for a new sponsor.  But the new wicked witch sent you scurrying back to me.  Then, it was a relationship with undying love that would break the spell you are under.  Now tell me again how you don’t want me to use this magic wand on you?” said my sponsor with aplomb.

“I guess my behavior gave me away.  Go ahead, say your incantation.”  I closed my eyes and waited for her words.

“Show up and do the work.  Keep an open mind,” she said as she waved the cudgel.

“That’s it?"  I asked.

“Well, yes, but I have to come back every day,” she grinned.

Set the table for breakfast just before your midnight snack.

*

Rounder

Back again, yes, that I see,

but change is not the same as return.

What I know of you is your past.

I believe the past because I know it.

If there is a new you to meet

that remains to be seen.

Even a chameleon sheds its skin,

though I doubt its intrinsic nature

is altered much in the process.

So flash your smile and wind your words

into the thoughts of those with whom

you have no history.

I’ve been exposed before,

the virus doesn’t conquer me, I am immune.

Once bitten makes me wary

when you come around again.

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

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

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

Reclamation Artist

June 27

RECLAMATION ARTIST

I stand over the refuse can and peer in; I drive slowly past the piles of curbside discards.  I have so much trouble accepting there is no reclaiming most of this ever-growing mass.  There must be an alternate plan but I can’t see it yet.  I surround myself with hopeful stacks and wishful trinkets.  I want to make a new world from the old, save past relationships and make them somehow fresh.  I don’t want to drown.  I fear I can’t think fast enough to keep the wave from breaking over us all.  I will maintain an open mind and be grateful my life was retrieved from the dustbin.  I’ll steal peeks at what has been put out for lost.  I was once lost, too.

Read your favorite book one page a day.

*

When I rise up and when I lay down

In order to be happy with you

I have to learn to be happy without you.

I gasp at the pain of it

I desperately wish that the above statement were not true,

but alas, you are gone in a way that I can never reclaim you

and to hold on to what of you is still tentatively available

I must release my frightened grasp.

A wisp of smoke is not the bonfire of our past,

but it is what remains and I breathe it in as best I can.

Immediately I realize I am holding on again.

I breathe you out, let you go.

I want to run screaming throwing you from my bonds,

yet another of my attempts at control.

So, now it’s time to pray.

Not a prayer to get my way, not a prayer to make you stay,

not a prayer to make you gone, just a prayer to live on my own.

God help me please to live my life,

Please guide me away from strife.

I am lost and cannot find my way,

Father, hold me till the light of day.

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