Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?

December 15

Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?

Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments.  When I fear for my survival, physical, emotional or financial this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder, sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze; melt all which is steel strong between us and create a molten mess from which it will be a struggle to recover.  This is why, me taking good care of me, attending to my life, and quelling my fears is the very best way for me to protect you from my attitude and save me from a negative balance sheet during my 10^th step.

Ask the questions

*

DON’T BITE

Desperation jumps up--runs around--then drops.
If I don’t feed it-- desperation burns out fast.
I used to buy the advertising--the Horror--the Humanity.
The acorn falling on my head convinced me easily.

I grew this nut into terrifying despair.
Never realizing if I had left it alone
How quickly it would pass.
When tragedy comes there is no time for a performance.

The whirling splendor itself proves the farce.
If I learn to recognize these triggers
I might keep from shooting myself in the foot.
If I let desperation wear itself out
I can stay with the pack.

Despondence splinters me
And separates me from anything rational.
But quiet resolve lets me watch the wind twist
While I keep my feet on the ground.

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

Blinded

April 27

Blinded

Alcoholism hits me like a kind of blindness.  I stagger through the living room cursing anyone who changes familiar placement or published timetables. Just like every aspect of this disease, shocked sightlessness, is mine to deal with.  I must pick up the white cane, procure the Seeing Eye pup, learn to read clustered braille.  When my vision clears in these well worked spaces I am relieved, but I must accept that when I walk into a new room more often then not I will be blind again and must pick up my walking stick once more.

Apply a timeframe to misery

*

STREET SIGNS

Hanging out on the corner of Disillusion Boulevard and Grief Road

Then returning to that special spot on Despair Avenue

Was my daily routine.

I made the circle and never looked far afield

Widening my circuit

Allowed me to find Anticipation Place and Hopeful Terrace

I pushed my search and found roads

Whose existence I never fathomed intersected

Creating areas of intrigue

Optimism Court interfacing with Realization Way

Is the fairest of my finds

But many a fine street corner has me lurking

Catching stray sunshine and encouragement

I make my home wherever the hospitality is available

And return less often to the dark and stifling places of the past

Happiness is where you find it

Just make sure to read the signs.

why is it so hard to be me?

April 1

Why is it so hard to be me?

I have everything I could wish for.  I have love and friendship, I have talent and ability.  What more could I want?  I don’t want more, I want to learn how to overcome fear and live with disappointment.  Abundance is ever at the door, but I have no room for plenty.  Reassurance is the thing I chase after, yearn for, pine about, but it is an illusive thing like taking hold of smoke.  Allusion is the gift-wrap of reality the unwrapping often puts me off the contents; regaining my composure and reestablishing willingness is a difficult job requiring dedication and fortitude.  The barrier before the carefree me is thought the strongest of all substance.  I must heal the calcifications of my mind and resist rigidity.  My thinking is what makes being me problematic without it I am nothing at all. 

Free fun from the shackles of expectation

*

ACCEPTANCE, ACTION, CHANGE

Acceptance equals action
Without action, acceptance is a death sentence
Action puts me in the hands of my Higher power
Inaction puts me at the mercy of others or worse self-justification
For acceptance to glow with life it must be moving

Action equals change
Action without change is repetition
The moon does not change
It orbits flat on it's face, forever dark on one side
And a mere reflection on the other

Change equals acceptance
Change sparks possibilities in mundane endeavor
Change without acceptance is a walk off a cliff
For change to endure, agreement is necessary
A one-sided argument is fascism and fraudulence

The heart of change is acceptance
Beating the blood of hope to the extremities
Whether we circle the heavens
Or the bowl depends on the cohesion of
Acceptance, Action and Change

What's Mine Is Mine

December 21

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE

I don’t always know how to get the dog off the baby.  The attacks are often sudden and always swift.  My shock at the reality delays my response, falters my steps and fogs my mind.  What should I do to disengage this assault?  What can I do that won’t make things worse?  How can I resolve this now?  The pain is almost unimaginable but yet all too familiar.  It all comes down to ownership.  I must admit this baby is me.  I have to face facts; this dog is my pet, I have fed, nurtured and groomed him and now I have to put this dog to sleep.

Explore the air not just the dirt.

*

A Thousand Windowed House

I am like a house with a thousand windows.

When I am lit up inside

you can see all the way through;

When I go dark

the reflection of the world around me is all

that is visible when you look my way.

My sprawling mind is what creates this effigy of me.

A tribute when I am well tended

and a fire trap when I neglect my duties.

If I learn to celebrate in all the rooms

this house is my home,

so I must practice; dance and sing in the hallways.

So I can pirouette into the rooms with full voice.

For what is the point of being a house

with a thousand windows, if I don’t live there?

Tapers

December 11

TAPERS

I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends.  I borrow from the beginning, I steal from the end, coming up short and feeling deeply cheated.  I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser, arch-traitor selling short the days and hours for approval, not fulfillment.  I put away my true identity: mammal, human, the love of; I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer, a tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit of everyone who attempts the portrayal.  In spite of this the roads teem with actors becoming caricatures of a life less lived.  The world is more than a stage, and I must free powers greater than I to be more than an audience.

Laugh at old jokes and tell new ones.

*

Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?

Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments.

When I fear for my survival,

physical, emotional or financial

this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder,

sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze.

Melt all which is steel strong between us

and create a molten mess

from which it will be a struggle to recover.

This is why me,

taking good care of me,

attending to my life, and quelling my fears

is the very best way for me to protect you

from my attitude and save me

from a negative balance sheet during my 10^th step.

Smog

June 30

SMOG

When I burn out, the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area.  I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full; I empty out and my light grows dim. I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep.  If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it and the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood.  I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze.  Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task if I make proper use of resources.  When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted and separated from my source, then the source I am to others is extinguished.  I can only light the darkness where I am; I can’t illuminate someone else’s path.  Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor due to a lapse in my spiritual condition. 

Place the period then write to it.

*

From Mind to Pen to Paper

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.

The Meal

May 2

THE MEAL

Home cooking is the key.  I want to order in, have my life delivered to the door.  The takeout menus entice me.  From three courses on china to burgers handed through sliding windows, it all sounds good and I request all for take home.  But this is not the way.  I must light the flame and chop the veg.  I can’t have a life prepared by others.  I can share recipes and suggestions; this is help not displacement.  I can stand and cook with others and together make the feast.  I cannot sit and wait to be served.  I stand at the range while the sauce simmers and it comes clear; I am my own meal.

Nothingness won’t necessarily consume you but it does block the view.

*

 TWC

I wake early and watch the lazy rain

fall in slow fat random drops.

I view it with silent awe,

only part of my recently somnolent mind bewildered.

Dawn advances toward me and I register a new concept:

snow, it is snow; the sky had been,

too dark to allow me to see the white,

all I could comprehend was the fall.

The lighter the sky becomes

the more the precipitation behaves like snowfall.

I muse this to my sponsor and she laughed,

“Well, we all misname things in the dark,

Sweetie, lighten up and give yourself a break.”

Porcellano

August 1

Porcellano

Some days I feel like a porcelain doll; hard head, hard hands, hard feet and everywhere else is soft, gormless. I feel useless and act out my feelings, stumbling through a day of pointless inactivity. I know that I belong on a shelf or propped upon the pillows of a bed, not fine enough for curio or collection, merely someone of marginal decorative value. I have gotten away from the meaning of me, the thrum of G-d’s intentions and am trapped in this world of elaboration; everything is embellished and nothing is real. It is time to put my foot down; to feel the earth solid and right, to catch my mind and take it out of its greasy spin. I am not a China doll and it is time to walk away from these purloined thoughts.

Wear a white cotton cord around your waist

*

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

Pinocchio as a Girl

May 7

Pinocchio as a Girl

I should be painting today instead of reframing the future, an unnecessary and ephemeral job at best. Kind of like lassoing an unborn colt, I try to put a rope around something that cannot get away. Outcome hasn’t much to do with foregone conclusion and wouldn’t I be better mixing colors and wetting brushes than cutting slices from a pie in the sky? But tomorrow seems more spacious than this crowded present and I con myself into believing this is a harmless trip to the fair. I lose my light, my thought, my sight with these thieving sojourns; leaving me to creak around because all that is left is wood.

Nothing gets in the way of something

*

MAIL

I form my query

Fold my mind

And mail it off to God

With a stamp of approval from my sponsor

The questions sent are of no great interest

But the responses are a spellbinding group

What is returned unopened

Is a wide array

The circuitous route taken by some

Is a charm of elucidation

I rub my finger over the intact seals

And marvel at the travels of the wax

I mourn over the defunct gods

And their public relations organizations

Slow is my resolve to pour over the replies

I get easily caught in lackings and shy from true contact

The equations embedded in my heart read the letters

And sing the notes, these songs are just for me

I know them like my name

I turn the envelope and see how old the postmark is

Water Buddha

March 24

Water Buddha

The longer on the river I am the less I fear the river. I still don’t know what lay ahead, anything may wait for me just around the next bend, but I fear this less and less. Experience is a great foundation no matter what you are building or in which direction. I’ve gotten my sea-legs, a sure sign of the mind cooperating with the realities the body is experiencing. I have learned to avoid some forms of trouble and anticipate fortune more often. Further on could be waterfall, ocean, dam; I will contend with any or all, come what may, for when it comes to riding the river I have learned the most important thing: I don’t need to push.

Be left, be right, be yourself

*

THE ORDER

I can't expect delivery if I haven't placed the order
I never seem to know what I want
Until after I have accepted something else.

I can remember thinking order meant procedure not procurement
Set the table, not end my hunger
I focused on rational intent and turned my face from desire

Assailing outcomes leads to disappointments
Asking for a hole to be filled may cause dumping
Not management or conservation

It's good to have a plan before signing the requisition
Please help me know who I am
So I know what I want

I can make a request and stop accepting orders of attack
Don't let me order the end
While I am still at the beginning

Lame

December 23

Lame

I easily identify the big mistakes of my life, but fail to recognize or report the little mistakes that I make, mistakes, which cost me so much. Repetitive irresponsibility has the effect of water torture; drip, drip, drip and my peace of mind is worn away. What can I say of what I refuse to see? It was there all along like the view covered by the shade. Who is to blame for not raising the curtain? It may be me. may not, but I am the one who suffers, I am the one who misses out. Missing the opportunity to grow out of these small deficiencies leaves me with a lifelong handicap and I am not just speaking of my blindness, but also how they make me lame.

Protest ignorance

*

Beginning and End

She stepped through my window and the clock stopped.

The shock of her arrival heart pounding fun and fury.

Forever I felt as if she weren’t there.

Fear lurked in my eyes.

Smile enchanting.

Exit at hand.

Good-

Bye.

Calm, Peaceful, On

December 18

Calm, Peaceful, On

Once I center my mind I can type in the dark. All it takes is me present and willing to flow. Limber up the learning curve, press my fingers to the keys, let the story tell its tale. Cease the interjections lest it all go stale. There is nothing much to know, its all inside, I just let it go. Emptying this crowded vault, I open up to prevent assault. What to do when it hits the page; marketing is all the rage, but for this task I need a light. To sell myself I must be bright.

Paste pictures on your mental partitions

*

FAILED SOUP AND DISTRUST OF BURGUNDY

What keeps me coming back to meetings and step work
Is an abiding mistrust of booze.
Despite promises and advertisement, hope and folklore
I couldn’t rely on drinking to take me where I wanted to go.
And surely couldn’t depend on it to keep me there.

The struggle is great; the attempt to cling to salvation
Though decanter is mighty but in the end
This joining of my chemistry to another failed miserably.

No matter how I held my mouth
Held my head, held my liquor
Satisfaction escaped without me and I was left here
In the soup of my disillusion and disappointment.

I may not always succeed in my recovery
But I can draw dividends on every deposit
And use this to build a path to my desires.

Whose Oxygen Mask Goes on First?

December 15

Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?

Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments. When I fear for my survival, physical, emotional or financial this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder, sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze. Melt all which is steel strong between us and create a molten mess from which it will be a struggle to recover. This is why, me taking good care of me, attending to my life, and quelling my fears is the very best way for me to protect you from my attitude and save me from a negative balance sheet during my 10^th step.

Ask the questions

*

DON’T BITE

Desperation jumps up--runs around--then drops.
If I don’t feed it-- desperation burns out fast.
I used to buy the advertising--the Horror--the Humanity.
The acorn falling on my head convinced me easily.

I grew this nut into terrifying despair.
Never realizing if I had left it alone
How quickly it would pass.
When tragedy comes there is no time for a performance.

The whirling splendor itself proves the farce.
If I learn to recognize these triggers
I might keep from shooting myself in the foot.
If I let desperation wear itself out
I can stay with the pack.

Despondence splinters me
And separates me from anything rational.
But quiet resolve lets me watch the wind twist
While I keep my feet on the ground.

Induction

November 17

Induction

I have a massive energy transformer that lives inside me. It is explosive in nature and risky to toy with. But if used properly I can power my whole world with the current which flows through it to me from my Higher Power. If I use it improperly I can melt down my core and burn down my life. The connections are of the utmost importance, insulation is a priority as well. I know that I am conduit and so much more. I must do my part as the carrier and the arbiter of change.

The absence of joy is a sin

*

FLAW IN SNOW

Waiting for snow-
Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads
Warm beds, reading by firelight.

Waiting for proof of lack of control.
Waiting itself proves lack of control.

I can dance the snow dance
And refuse to buy new shovels.
Hang out laundry,
Put out all manner of storm tempters.

Still I cannot force the hand of nature
I must sit with my crystalline optimism
And endure these cloudless skies.

There will be snow
It will fall somewhere
But I mustn’t grow over anxious
Cause it may never snow in Miami.

Big Name

August 3

Big Name

My name has a foreign sound; my head turns when it is called. I recognize this as training not identity. I remember teaching the dog her name. I called it while petting and praising her, soon the name was hers. Now, I think of G-d. Did we call long and loud enough to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible? Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable; assigned it a place on a shelf; somewhere to be called up from? Does the noise sound as strange as the syllables of my name sound to me? Does it matter as long as we answer?

Check for low doorbells and high expectations

*

PARADOX OF PARADISE

Paradise is created when I collect paradox and live with it.

Paradise is the set of acceptance and suspended disbelief.

If anything is possible accepting what comes is less heart wrenching.

If I arrest my misgivings

Gratification in the voluptuousness of now ---is velvet.

Vague consent is a Hell of incapacity.

Fighting fiercely for both sides

Keeps the heart pumping and the mind at bliss.

I must work to embrace contradiction and happiness

.

There is more than one path to take

And I must take that one.

Alconaut

December 25

ALCONAUT



Want to learn it fast but not deep? Just go to meetings and listen with half an ear. Call your sponsor only for her birthday and anniversary and tell her about all the things you are not doing anymore but none of the things you are. Skim the books for good quotes that sound impressive when they pass your lips but whose meaning has no chance of passing your heart. Find playmates and cliques, not a home group, and surely not a service commitment. Things fall out of orbit when they run out of juice and you will too. This program is not an air lock on the way to worlds unknown; it is a way to live in the world you know. There is no question that you have the right stuff. The question is, do you want what we have?

Hug your feelings, pat their heads, then let them go.

Smog

June 30

SMOG


When I burn out, the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area. I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full; I empty out and my light grows dim. I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep. If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it and the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood. I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze. Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task if I make proper use of resources. When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted and separated from my source, then the source I am to others is extinguished. I can only light the darkness where I am; I can’t illuminate someone else’s path. Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor due to a lapse in my spiritual condition.


Place the period then write to it.

Too Far, Too Fast

June 23

TOO FAR, TOO FAST


Balloons filled with hydrogen race the atmosphere and fly away. The effect is stunning, so much lift for just pennies. The easy way has no line, no waiting; fast dirty service is available. Risk assessment is counter-balanced with dramatic outcome, low initial cost and instant gratification. How can I not want to rise above the crowd? How can I not want it now? Hydrogen is quick and plentiful, volatile yes, but why should this bother me? I have a Higher Power to protect me. It’s not as if I were playing with fire. I am only tempting it.


Tell the tale of your life from the perspective of your thumb.

The Meal

May 2

THE MEAL


Home cooking is the key. I want to order in, have my life delivered to the door. The takeout menus entice me. From three courses on china to burgers handed through sliding windows, it all sounds good and I request all for take home. But this is not the way. I must light the flame and chop the veg. I can’t have a life prepared by others. I can share recipes and suggestions; this is help not displacement. I can stand and cook with others and together make the feast. I cannot sit and wait to be served. I stand at the range while the sauce simmers and it comes clear; I am my own meal.


Nothingness won’t necessarily consume you but it does block the view.