Fearing Fearlessness

April 6

Fearing Fearlessness

How many times have I given the credit to night blind fear, credit due the brave persistent child?  How many times have I blamed the willing diligent pursuer when the fault was the backstabbing delay of mistrust?  I resist the onset of freedom.  Fear was my oldest familiar and I put from my mind that it was my jailer, captor; kidnapped me from my cradle and kept me locked from G-d’s fine intentions.  Fearlessness sounds debilitating to my crippled ears, organs who hear well the disclaimers and are deaf to the claims.  I am the producer of bile and addicted to dread, endorphins wear white hats and win the day once this yellow belly is put to bed.

Allow yourself distance from uncomfortable people

*

BIRDS AND BEES

Birds and Bees can get me drunk
I have to watch the amount of  envy
Which pours through me as I watch their bliss

When others make a beeline to the hive
I must head to a meeting and save myself despair
If my spiritual condition is not sound

When other couples are weaving their nests
I have to be careful
Not to weave my way back to the bar

The mating dance is so sweet and seductive
I have to make sure
I don't end up doing the two step

For as much as I hate to admit it
If steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober
The rest would not have needed to be written

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

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

How Red is Red

August 13

HOW RED IS RED

I check my color and contrast; I paint the setting sun.  Add a bit of yellow and fill to the edge burgeoning poppies.  Add more blue and paint the blood which pools around my mind, the equalizer of all my mental conversations.  Too much is never enough.  As the story goes, I pursue my shades and signatures.  Too much for the fingers and not enough for the toes, I disregard fraudulent crimson. I scale the mountains of intention looking for perfection.  The leach of my addiction drains the other colors from my rainbow.  My sponsor asks only one question.

“How red is red?”

Allow your thoughts to be neighborly with your feelings.

*

Phillips Head

What’s stuck in makes the thing.

What sticks out is all that’s seen.

I can tell so much from what is left out,

yet there is much I will never know, can never tell.

The twist, the give, the opening to variation

is known, but never acknowledged.

Somehow indecent if spoken

or thought of too loudly, insinuation is ignored

Society allows us to focus on

what is held after or due to this act.

We have built the whole world

on what we can screw together.

But we will merely hallow this,

never embrace the fact until it falls apart.

Then we exclaim over the rawness

of how it caused us to be turned around,

The risk and wrongness,

ignoring just how much good

can come from just a simple screw.

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

Frozen Strawberries

May 30

FROZEN STRAWBERRIES

“I have them in the freezer,” I tell my sponsor.

“I’m sure you do.  When are you going to take them out and reenact spring?” her retort.

“I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready.  I don’t want them to go to waste.”

“Oh, the Excuse Maker, the Staller.  Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet?  I thought you were going to defrost strawberries.”

“Fear, you’re saying fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability?"  I ask her.

“Eat the strawberries or not, but it seems to me you didn’t get sober to avoid the sweeter things in life, keeping all your goodness locked up in the deep freeze destined for frost bite.”

Let sunshine climb in your eyes and fall upon your heart.

*

I’m not Brian

I thought life was based on a system of

‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’.

Then I would be horrified when you suffered,

after I had already done so ahead of you.

In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see

who had broken the pact, you or me.

Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you?

Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary?

Panic gives birth to blame

and blame of course births nasty biting things

that run loose and bury in all the tender spots.

Now the goals I tend are to end the breeding

of those sharp and painful beasties,

stop laying my neck upon the alter

and start telling better jokes.

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

Birds & Bees

April 11

BIRDS & BEES

Birds and bees can get me drunk.  I have to watch the amount of envy which pours through me as I watch their wondrous bliss.  When others make a bee-line to the hive, I must head to a meeting and save myself despair if my spiritual condition is not sound.  When other couples are weaving their nests, I have to be careful not to weave my way back to the bar.  The mating dance is so sweet and seductive; I have to make sure I don’t end up doing the two step.  For as much as I hate to admit it, if steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober, the rest would not have needed to be written.

Pad barefoot through intention.

*

Neither Frog nor Fish

I was falling

and my Higher Power caught me

in a net called AA,

all of which was a pretty neat trick,

But the strangest consequence of this

is now I somehow think it shouldn’t be possible

for me to drown.

Defying gravity 24 hours at a time

doesn’t make me aquatic

or even amphibious for that matter.

I still have all the corollary restrictions

of anyone who is me.

I still need sleep and water,

food and warmth just like a mere mortal.

How silly I am.

I dodge a bullet

and suddenly I think I am waterproof.

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

Again Truth

December 31

Again Truth

Not wanting to speak the truth doesn’t change the truth, truth is funny that way, it is not affected by my cold shoulder.  I snub it and it stands just the same.  I am the one who bends and withers.  Truth withstands the pressure that I never have, the force of other people’s disappointment and regret.  I have sympathy or is it cowardice?  I tremble at the power of emotion and truth just carries on.  I do not want to be the truth or stand in its place; for truth is not a beating heart and I am too much a feeling creature, but I will learn to keep the company of honesty and right.  And stand under the arching bough of truth, because it is a shelter from the winds of change and I need all the help I can get.  When I am tempted to shun truth in favor of expedience I will try to remember that life is longer than I think and if I don’t face the truth now it is going to be in my face later when I might be less prepared.

Make the bed so that it is an invitation at the end of the day

*

Essentials

What is essential....is the correct amount of pressure as I press my lips to yours.

What is essential....is the way I slide my arms around your neck and slip my fingers through your hair.

What is essential....is the scent that rises from the nape of my neck as you kiss it.

What is essential....is the moan you illicit from my soul

What is essential....beyond the toe curl and the secret smile is well founded trust, also admiration.

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

NaCl

May 21

NaCl

I work arithmetic instead of telling you to stop.  I make a light remark, never take a stand until I have worked the numbers and believe that the weight of suffering is on my side.  I store in the cellar the salt I found in my wounds and label it with, names, dates and corresponding critique, all waiting, hoping, I will never need to disclose them, but keeping them accounted for just in case things go badly.  I believe there is no chance for error with silence and no wrong when I have backup in the basement, but I need to table the salt and risk my reality.  You can’t hurt me worse than I do when I pour old salt and create new wounds.

Bang the drum, expect a sound

*

FROZEN STRAWBERRIES

I have them in the freezer, I tell my sponsor

I’m sure you do, when are you going to take them out

And reenact spring, she retorts.

I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready

I don’t want them to go to waste.

Oh the Excuse Maker, the Staller

Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet?

I thought you were going to defrost the strawberries.

Fear, you’re saying, Fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability I ask her?

Eat the strawberries or not

But it seems to me you didn’t get sober

To avoid the sweeter things in life

Keeping all your goodness locked up

In the deep freeze

Destined for frost bite.

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 archaeological 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.

Fearing Fearlessness

April 6

Fearing Fearlessness

How many times have I given the credit to night blind fear, credit due the brave persistent child?  How many times have I blamed the willing diligent pursuer when the fault was the backstabbing delay of mistrust?  I resist the onset of freedom.  Fear was my oldest familiar and I put from my mind that it was my jailer, captor; kidnapped me from my cradle and kept me locked from G-d’s fine intentions.  Fearlessness sounds debilitating to my crippled ears, organs who hear well the disclaimers and are deaf to the claims.  I am the producer of bile and addicted to dread, endorphins wear white hats and win the day once this yellow belly is put to bed.

Allow yourself distance from uncomfortable people

*

BIRDS AND BEES

Birds and Bees can get me drunk
I have to watch the amount of  envy
Which pours through me as I watch their bliss

When others make a beeline to the hive
I must head to a meeting and save myself despair
If my spiritual condition is not sound

When other couples are weaving their nests
I have to be careful
Not to weave my way back to the bar

The mating dance is so sweet and seductive
I have to make sure
I don't end up doing the two step

For as much as I hate to admit it
If steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober
The rest would not have needed to be written

Reality and Desire

March 1

Reality and Desire

“I know the difference between desire and reality,” I whisper to my new found friend.  Who I am and what I am, are a reality unto themselves, your recognition of that and how you handle said recognition are for you and G-d.  The vastness of the true you; I hope to spend a lifetime surveying; but not sampling.  What you want and your reality are not mine to mind or mend.  If you are driving that train this is on you and if HP is the driver all the more incentive for me to be still, enjoy the ride and await the outcome.  For in the end the question is never, will you be mine, but what will I be to you.

Explore beyond the bend in your mind

*

IF I HAD A SCREWDRIVER

If I had anything other than this hammer
Possibly, I would discontinue pounding
This helix into the side of my universe.

The slot is unused
The flat heat of my sledge slams.
A wide void is punched into my abyss
As the threads are pummeled, not turned.

If I had picked up the right tools.
If they had been displayed within my reach.
If my granny had wheels
She might yet be a wagon.

I have picked up new tools
But having never seen them used, I bang with them
Watching others twisting the wrist and angling the elbow
I try to wrap my mind around the posture.

Muscles I have never used
Laminated to mental configurations unthought of
Improvements in workmanship is slow.
May a fine toolbox has remained full and untouched.

The mind lacking the dexterity to grasp the in-workings
The body ill equipped for the outer
If I had a screwdriver, I pray I could bring to it
The flexibility of sinew and the nimbleness of wit

How Red is Red?

August 13

HOW RED IS RED

I check my color and contrast; I paint the setting sun.  Add a bit of yellow and fill to the edge burgeoning poppies.  Add more blue and paint the blood which pools around my mind, the equalizer of all my mental conversations.  Too much is never enough.  As the story goes, I pursue my shades and signatures.  Too much for the fingers and not enough for the toes, I disregard fraudulent crimson. I scale the mountains of intention looking for perfection.  The leach of my addiction drains the other colors from my rainbow.  My sponsor asks only one question.

“How red is red?”

Allow your thoughts to be neighborly with your feelings.

*

Phillips Head

What’s stuck in makes the thing.

What sticks out is all that’s seen.

I can tell so much from what is left out,

yet there is much I will never know, can never tell.

The twist, the give, the opening to variation

is known, but never acknowledged.

Somehow indecent if spoken

or thought of too loudly, insinuation is ignored

Society allows us to focus on

what is held after or due to this act.

We have built the whole world

on what we can screw together.

But we will merely hallow this,

never embrace the fact until it falls apart.

Then we exclaim over the rawness

of how it caused us to be turned around,

The risk and wrongness,

ignoring just how much good

can come from just a simple screw.

Frozen Strawberries

May 30

FROZEN STRAWBERRIES

“I have them in the freezer,” I tell my sponsor.

“I’m sure you do.  When are you going to take them out and reenact spring?” her retort.

“I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready.  I don’t want them to go to waste.”

“Oh, the Excuse Maker, the Staller.  Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet?  I thought you were going to defrost strawberries.”

“Fear, you’re saying fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability?"  I ask her.

“Eat the strawberries or not, but it seems to me you didn’t get sober to avoid the sweeter things in life, keeping all your goodness locked up in the deep freeze destined for frost bite.”

Let sunshine climb in your eyes and fall upon your heart.

*

I’m not Brian

I thought life was based on a system of

‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’.

Then I would be horrified when you suffered,

after I had already done so ahead of you.

In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see

who had broken the pact, you or me.

Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you?

Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary?

Panic gives birth to blame

and blame of course births nasty biting things

that run loose and bury in all the tender spots.

Now the goals I tend are to end the breeding

of those sharp and painful beasties,

stop laying my neck upon the alter

and start telling better jokes.

Birds & Bees

April 11

BIRDS & BEES

Birds and bees can get me drunk. I have to watch the amount of envy which pours through me as I watch their wondrous bliss. When others make a bee-line to the hive, I must head to a meeting and save myself despair if my spiritual condition is not sound. When other couples are weaving their nests, I have to be careful not to weave my way back to the bar. The mating dance is so sweet and seductive; I have to make sure I don’t end up doing the two step. For as much as I hate to admit it, if steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober, the rest would not have needed to be written.

Pad barefoot through intention.

*

Neither Frog nor Fish

I was falling

and my Higher Power caught me

in a net called AA,

all of which was a pretty neat trick,

But the strangest consequence of this

is now I somehow think it shouldn’t be possible

for me to drown.

Defying gravity 24 hours at a time

doesn’t make me aquatic

or even amphibious for that matter.

I still have all the corollary restrictions

of anyone who is me.

I still need sleep and water,

food and warmth just like a mere mortal.

How silly I am.

I dodge a bullet

and suddenly I think I am waterproof.

Again Truth

December 31

Again Truth

Not wanting to speak the truth doesn’t change the truth, truth is funny that way, it is not affected by my cold shoulder. I snub it and it stands just the same. I am the one who bends and withers. Truth withstands the pressure that I never have, the force of other people’s disappointment and regret. I have sympathy or is it cowardice? I tremble at the power of emotion and truth just carries on. I do not want to be the truth or stand in its place; for truth is not a beating heart and I am too much a feeling creature, but I will learn to keep the company of honesty and right. And stand under the arching bough of truth, because it is a shelter from the winds of change and I need all the help I can get. When I am tempted to shun truth in favor of expedience I will try to remember that life is longer than I think and if I don’t face the truth now it is going to be in my face later when I might be less prepared.

Make the bed so that it is an invitation at the end of the day

*

Essentials

What is essential....is the correct amount of pressure as I press my lips to yours.

What is essential....is the way I slide my arms around your neck and slip my fingers through your hair.

What is essential....is the scent that rises from the nape of my neck as you kiss it.

What is essential....is the moan you illicit from my soul

What is essential....beyond the toe curl and the secret smile is well founded trust, also admiration.

Einstein's Apple

December 30

Einstein’s Apple

Time is a player in every play, forever running forward even as I try to claw my way into the past. If I don’t provide a role, time writes itself in without regard for my intended plotline. Like the weather, time is by turns gentle and fierce. I must pay attention lest I run afoul of it and lose my life and limb. Though time is an arc I see swinging in my mind it is still the arrow shot and I am simply the fool with the apple.

Take a vacation from your expectations

*

Talk to me before I sleep

Talk to me before I sleep

Lay your hand upon my cheek

Talk to me before I sleep

All the years are yours to keep

Talk to me before I sleep

Fold me deep within your speech

Talk to me before I sleep

Hold me tight when I start to reach

Talk to me before I sleep

Never let me touch the sheet

Talk to me before I sleep

Warm me with your wondrous heat

Talk to me before I sleep

Precious are the things you teach

Talk to me before I sleep

Love and kindness is how you greet

Talk to me before I sleep

Into darkness let me seep

Talk to me before I sleep

In my dreams it’s you I seek

Talk to me before I sleep

I fear that I am in too deep

Talk to me before I sleep

Wake me to the morning dew

Talk to me before I sleep

Let me know it’s always you

The Twelfth of April

December 3

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.”

Keep an ear out for more than danger

*

GOOD SAMARITAN PIE

The meal prepared from my cognition,
The bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation,
Roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie
Wait on the table to be devoured.

The courses pass and come desert, my kindly intentions.
Are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting.
I can dollop after dollop cover the requisite desires
Of this tart in attempt to deny my addiction to fixing
Or I can serve up the plain truth.

I help and help, and wander down roads looking
For lost puppies to return to their homes.
I must admit my longing to lend support
Is sometimes half-baked and if kept to home and hearth
It might serve me better and make a sweeter dish.

Assistance is best in proportion to the meal
I must live my life and save my Good Samaritan pie till last.

Phillips Head

August 13

Phillips Head

What’s stuck in makes the thing. What sticks out is all that’s seen. I can tell so much from what is left out, yet there is much I will never know, can never tell. The twist, the give, the opening to variation is known, but never acknowledged. Somehow indecent if spoken or thought of too loudly, insinuation is ignored and society allows us to focus on what is held after or due to this act. We have built the whole world on what we can screw together, but we will merely hallow this, never embrace the fact until it falls apart. Then we exclaim over the rawness of how it caused us to be turned around, the risk and wrongness, ignoring just how much good can come from just a simple screw.

Acknowledge rain clouds as puddles on lay-away

*

MEETING INVENTORY

The manicurist at the meeting sits and does her nails.

The discussion goes on around her as she files away.

Cell phones go off for people

Who can’t put their lives on hold for their sobriety.

The knitter knits.

And the dissenters dissent.

The chatting chickens and grumbling grouse

All these populate the meeting.

It has taken the first half of the hour

To take everyone else’s inventory.

I have the remaining thirty to take my own.

Frozen Strawberries

May 30

FROZEN STRAWBERRIES


“I have them in the freezer,” I tell my sponsor.
“I’m sure you do. When are you going to take them out and reenact spring?” her retort.
“I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready. I don’t want them to go to waste.”
“Oh, the Excuse Maker, the Staller. Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet? I thought you were going to defrost strawberries.”
“Fear, you’re saying fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability?" I ask her.
“Eat the strawberries or not, but it seems to me you didn’t get sober to avoid the sweeter things in life, keeping all your goodness locked up in the deep freeze destined for frost bite.”


Let sunshine climb in your eyes and fall upon your heart.

Birds & Bees

April 11

BIRDS & BEES




Birds and bees can get me drunk. I have to watch the amount of envy which pours through me as I watch their wondrous bliss. When others make a bee-line to the hive, I must head to a meeting and save myself despair if my spiritual condition is not sound. When other couples are weaving their nests, I have to be careful not to weave my way back to the bar. The mating dance is so sweet and seductive, I have to make sure I don’t end up doing the two step. For as much as I hate to admit it, if steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober, the rest would not have needed to be written.


Pad barefoot through intention.