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

Three Roosters

June 8

THREE ROOSTERS

The three roosters come to the meeting to hear themselves crow.  The membership purely spectators in the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition.  Those of us in the fray are like picked-on-puppies who learn slowly not to put our heads up to spare our eyes and hearts.  The same noise comes repeatedly.  Suspicion is never aroused; the heads nod at all the right places, orchestrated for ego and nothing else.  The meeting is closed with a momentary prayer for the still suffering in and out of the room.  I pray that will be enough.

Tour your past but leave at closing time.

*

Abraxas

I was waiting for a magic person

and then you appeared.

I was dazzled;

I was under your spell.

In an attempt to prove myself

your natural assistant I sawed me in two.

Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet

and promptly disappeared.

I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you,

but I never looked from your visage once you arrived.

The world around me melted at your entrance

and I flowed down the drain along with it.

I somehow expected a response from you,

but why respond to an empty room?

So, I will plug back into myself and power up.

Power draws power

and I will see if I can draw you once 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

Clap

July 28

Clap

I know how to put my hands together, but I am unable to clap.  It’s not that my palms can’t locate each other; it’s that I cannot find the beat.  I sing; lilting rhythms rolling from my tongue.  I keep time and drum the tattoo of jingle dress dance songs, but when my hand comes against its mate something is off.  Faltering nuance plays havoc with my exuberant desire.  I want to join the crowd in syncopated applause, yet my brain drops out.  Because the gap is too far to leap I must walk around to the other side and by then I’ve lost the moment, the world has moved on without me.  I used to think I needed to run my routine a little faster, but now I realize I need to learn to leap the gap and trust the beat to find me.

Engender your actions with optimism

*

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 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 slide of hand.

It slides my hand from glass to grace

I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat.

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

Abraxas

 June 10

Abraxas

I was waiting for a magic person and then you appeared.  I was dazzled; I was under your spell.  In an attempt to prove myself,  your natural assistant, I sawed me in two.  Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet and promptly disappeared.  I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you, but I never looked from your visage once you arrived.  The world around me melted at your entrance and I flowed down the drain along with it.  I somehow expected a response from you, but why respond to an empty room?  So, I will plug back into myself and power up.  Power draws power and I will see if I can draw you once again.

Keep a truce on hand for later use

*

THE LANDING

Risers and runners lift from where I stand

Here I make my decision

I climb and face the challenges of my life

Each new test returns me to this square

The steps ascend in every direction

No matter how many times I have scaled this set of twelve

I must start anew with even the slightest change of direction

Like facets on a diamonds base

The flights emerge from the tiny base

And hold the world of possibilities

Within their meticulous surface

I look into these precious mirrors

To see who I am and where to go

Though none of this would be possible

Without a place to stand.

Today's Math

February 3

Today’s Math

Today is 12/06/06 this is an equation to me, 12 = 6 + 6, simple; not everything is, but math always works for me.   My Higher Power is math based and one of my major decision making tools is to run the equation of the presenting situation.  There are many constants in my life and those numbers are easier to calculate the variables often prove more difficult. Scalable problems allow for my Geometry.  Proofs are a comfort when I can get them.  Set Theory is what I settle for when I can’t.  I try to show all my work and have others check my calculations.  I can’t tell you how often a simple error in addition or subtraction has fouled my whole equation not to mention my equilibrium.  In conclusion I would like to say it is now 12= 9 + 6 and somehow I’ve lost three days, or did I gain them?  See how tricky the signs are.

Put misconception up for sale

*

HOW LIKE THE MOON

I show the shining bright face to the world
But cannot enumerate the dark.
I change and turn for all to see
Glowing sliver, to full fledged smile.

I inventory all phases
Can tell you from wax to wane
But the darkness, the anchor to my lonely life
I can only guess.

I feel my way across the unknown topography
Searching with fingers and faith
To find the secrets
Of this magic nightmare.

And What? What is the thing to break it?
Hope, Reverence, A detailed map
Or is the darkness just a fact,
Part of the big equation, the equalizer of the light?

If this is so, how best to live with it?
Continue the search or post barriers,
Go ever forward looking for an answer,
Endear myself to the void?

The choices are always mine
The way seldom clear.

Spontaneous Willingness

November 3

SPONTANEOUS WILLINGNESS

At my local coffee-mart there is a strip of cellophane tape adhered to the mid of a Plexiglas panel built into the barrier where the line forms.  Only at a certain angle can this satin finish tape be seen.  When I first caught a glimpse of it I recognized others had stood there and responded to the sight of this strip by prying bits of the edge with fingernails; I was drawn to do the same.  I could not pull much up, but each time I stand there I work diligently for the moments it takes to make it to the head of the line and be on my way.  Unseen others pull fragments while I’m away.  Over time we will accomplish this task, unbidden, unknown to each other except through this common goal, spontaneous willingness to do what can be done.

Build a boat in your mind and push off.

*

MISS DIRECTED

I called and rambled at my sponsor.

After a significant time had passed,

she stopped me and asked with a tone in her voice,

“and why are you calling me?”

Startled, I replied, “for your advice!”

“Are you sure that’s why you called?

Because I can give you my advice,

but I have given advice to you before

and received only a severe case of the ‘Yeah, Buts’ in return.”

I was about to say ‘yeah, but you don’t understand’

when she cleared her throat to quiet me

and continued what she was saying.

“Seems to me you really want more than a sober ear,

you want magic.

You want me to take your crazy, dramatic thinking,

put it in a hat and pull it out formed, as all your dreams,

and then you want credit for making it happen.

But, Kitten, I have news for you,

I’m not Mr. Roark and this is not Fantasy Island.

This is sobriety and you can’t just have your way.”

This is when I realized I was on a dry drunk.

I don’t know what the first signs are,

but I do know when your sponsor asks,

“and you’re calling me, why?” the jig is up.

Three Roosters

June 8

THREE ROOSTERS

The three roosters come to the meeting to hear themselves crow.  The membership purely spectators in the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition.  Those of us in the fray are like picked-on-puppies who learn slowly not to put our heads up to spare our eyes and hearts.  The same noise comes repeatedly.  Suspicion is never aroused; the heads nod at all the right places, orchestrated for ego and nothing else.  The meeting is closed with a momentary prayer for the still suffering in and out of the room.  I pray that will be enough.

Tour your past but leave at closing time.

*

Abraxas

I was waiting for a magic person

and then you appeared.

I was dazzled;

I was under your spell.

In an attempt to prove myself

your natural assistant I sawed me in two.

Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet

and promptly disappeared.

I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you,

but I never looked from your visage once you arrived.

The world around me melted at your entrance

and I flowed down the drain along with it.

I somehow expected a response from you,

but why respond to an empty room?

So, I will plug back into myself and power up.

Power draws power

and I will see if I can draw you once again.

Clap

July 28

Clap

I know how to put my hands together, but I am unable to clap. It’s not that my palms can’t locate each other; it’s that I cannot find the beat. I sing; lilting rhythms rolling from my tongue. I keep time and drum the tattoo of jingle dress dance songs, but when my hand comes against its mate something is off. Faltering nuance plays havoc with my exuberant desire. I want to join the crowd in syncopated applause, yet my brain drops out. Because the gap is too far to leap I must walk around to the other side and by then I’ve lost the moment, the world has moved on without me. I used to think I needed to run my routine a little faster, but now I realize I need to learn to leap the gap and trust the beat to find me.

Engender your actions with optimism

*

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 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 slide of hand.

It slides my hand from glass to grace

I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat.

Funk and Wagnall's Back Porch

September 6

FUNK AND 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, holds its collective breath and prays for this year's finalists, and prays a bigger prayer of thanks to this year's 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. And when the lights go out on this night, the days of diligence begin once again so no one need lose their seat and we can all celebrate here, next year, together.


Open even though the hinges are hidden.

Penny for your Thoughts

August 8

PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS


There is a penny in the bathtub. I wonder who stood in there with loose change. Possibly confusing it for a wishing well, the penny was tossed in. The stories I could tell, the hopes that tantalize my mind, elves and leprechauns, dreamers and optimists all trundle through my thinking. When I don’t know the answer, I can now at least look for the best, the sweetest thoughts. I don’t run to the dark and threatening disasters. I have lost the lease to my personal black cloud, the one that used to follow wherever I went. I can smile now and think of pennies from heaven. The first drop landed in my tub.


Think of what a spider and a whale have in common.

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.

The Palmist

June 20

THE PALMIST


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


Believe in contradiction.

The Palmist

June 20

THE PALMIST


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


Believe in contradiction.