Stepping Up

March 2

Stepping up

I look along the list of names, look upon the sea of faces.  Are there any whose eyes I avoid?  I gaze across the landscape are there any craters, any pock marks, any divots.  I tick through my actions those I’ve recently taken checking for stumbles, glitches, snafus.  These combined facts and figures create a portrait of my day; I appraise the eyes, the hair, the teeth.  If I can smile at what I see all is well if not I begin the repair. 

Plan for your contentment at least as much as you plan your escape

*

SWEAT

I turn the desk lamp into the eyes of God.
I put question after question
To the construct of my childhood concept.

Would you please explain?
Or exactly why did You do this,
That, or the other thing?

Are You now or have You ever been a member of?
I put the pressure on.
The beads of perspiration join and then trickle.

I have God in the box, I will not relent.
I don't understand You, I say disappointedly
As if speaking to a troubling adolescent.

You have so much potential, if only You would apply Yourself
The icon shakes It's head slowly and deliberately,
I shake my head too.

So much time has passed
And I am no closer to embrace.
You don't understand Me, says God to me.

Dawn breaks, I uncuff this mythic creature.
You are not the One I am looking for,
You are free to go

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 24 Hour God

May 10

THE 24 HOUR GOD

Matching a loving God to the horrors of my past has proved impossible for me.  Projecting a connection to an all-powerful God of the ever-foreshortening future seems implausible.  In today, I see a nurturing God.  Not an all purpose God, not a God who serves all.  In my life, there is a God I trust today.  Each morning, when I wake, it is a pleasant surprise to find a God.  Not an expansive God, not a God to fit the continuum, but a nice neat God who fits right in this 24.

Lift your fingers to your scars and feel the gratitude.

*

Box-a-week Tao

I am going through so many changes

surrounding the cleaning out and getting rid of process.

The flat sided panic that I experience

while even attempting the smallest disposal seems impossible.

I would deny it if I didn't have the repetition

of this experiment to prove it as fact.

I have now moved into the part of the illness

where I compulsively clean the things that I have emptied

in order to avoid facing the next step, the next box, the next mess.

This is a two part trap:

Part 1. If cleaning can absorb all the time

I will not be able to do anything else.

Part 2.  If I can't keep it clean enough

then I have an excuse to give up

and not empty the next space.

I am trying to keep moving without being mean to myself.

Because mean is worse than mess.

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

Sweat

March 3

SWEAT

I turn the desk lamp into the eyes of God.  I put question after question to the construct of my childhood concept.  “Would you please explain?"  Or, "Exactly why did You do this, that, or the other thing?"  "Are You now or have You ever been a member of…?”  I put the pressure on; the beads of perspiration join, then trickle.  I have God in ‘the box.’  I will not relent.

“I don’t understand You," I say disappointedly, as if speaking to a troubling adolescent.  “You have so much potential if only You would apply Yourself.”  The icon shakes Its head slowly and deliberately; I shake my head, too.  So much time has passed and I am no closer to embrace.

“You don’t understand Me,” says God to me.  Dawn breaks; I uncuff this mythic creature. 

“You are not the one I am looking for.  You are free to go.”

New is neutral, not better or worse.

*

Stepping up

I look along the list of names,

look upon the sea of faces.

Are there any whose eyes I avoid?

I gaze across the landscape

are there any craters,

any pock marks, any divots.

I tick through my actions

those I’ve recently taken

checking for stubbles, glitches, snafus.

These combined facts and figures

create a portrait of my day;

I appraise the eyes, the hair, the teeth.

If I can smile at what I see

all is well if not I begin the repair.

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

Stepping Up

March 2

Stepping up

I look along the list of names, look upon the sea of faces.  Are there any whose eyes I avoid?  I gaze across the landscape are there any craters, any pock marks, any divots.  I tick through my actions those I’ve recently taken checking for stumbles, glitches, snafus.  These combined facts and figures create a portrait of my day; I appraise the eyes, the hair, the teeth.  If I can smile at what I see all is well if not I begin the repair. 

Plan for your contentment at least as much as you plan your escape

*

SWEAT

I turn the desk lamp into the eyes of God.
I put question after question
To the construct of my childhood concept.

Would you please explain?
Or exactly why did You do this,
That, or the other thing?

Are You now or have You ever been a member of?
I put the pressure on.
The beads of perspiration join and then trickle.

I have God in the box, I will not relent.
I don't understand You, I say disappointedly
As if speaking to a troubling adolescent.

You have so much potential, if only You would apply Yourself
The icon shakes It's head slowly and deliberately,
I shake my head too.

So much time has passed
And I am no closer to embrace.
You don't understand Me, says God to me.

Dawn breaks, I uncuff this mythic creature.
You are not the One I am looking for,
You are free to go

Remembering

October 6

REMEMBERING

Remembering is the oxygen my brain pumps to my soul.  Remembering gives me mobility and traction.  Everything in my life that is positive depends on my remembering.  It keeps apathy at bay and complacency locked in some far off cupboard.  Remembering gives today the misty sweetness I have grown to love.  I can live to my potential and enjoy the process, watch misery move away.  I can dream the future every night because I remember who I am and what I am capable of.  Never can I be haunted, memory keeps me from reactionary visitation.  Though some fear the past, I know holding it in a close embrace allows me to dance to the rhythm of truth.

Think of names for your sneakers.

*

What Oliver Could not Know

One of the complications of being an orphan

is not learning about the failings and foibles

which visit themselves on all parents.

Living estranged from God has this same blind spot.

When you live with someone day in and day out

you understand their dimensions;

Depravation causes celebrity

and the casting of very large shadows

in some very odd places.

The intimate knowledge of a guardian

allows for relaxation and experimentation.

Isolation creates an overload of anticipation;

Fear of risk and the yearning for attention

swing a pendulum to the point of weaponry.

Familiarity is a breeding ground,

which means many things grow.

Life in a vacuum is devoid of life

and nothing grows up.

Pretty Girls

December 17

Pretty Girls

Pretty girls seem to live by separate rules, but I don’t know why. The world is filled with people and rules, crazy circumstances and the uniformity of exception. The where and what for, of arbitrary allowance to be regulated based on symmetry or fashion strikes me as odd, beyond survival and this may explain so very much. Gravity pulls down equally; discriminates for nothing. Orbital rotation continues in spite of the fairness of an eye. The universe supports us without end but prejudice is our failing and I blame it on the pretty girls

Sift the silt for treasure

*

MARIAN

Even if the whole world was created in a cipher
And whirls off into nothingness
This is still not a commentary on the existence of God.

We have today---for this moment of sobriety
There is a Power Greater than

My despair, my apprehension and it builds with me a home
From the bricks of my optimism.

Partnership is no prevention of inhospitable endings
But is a temporary relief from desperate loneliness.
The tired struggle of guaranteeing niceness spills my energy
Scraping from each 24 the marrow so necessary.

My open palm saves me from grasping,
My open mind from grappling
I rid myself of tiny gods in tiny heavens
Where I do not reside.

Let the blades of grass probe between my toes
There is beauty for me to see,
Love to hold, hope to float.
Where this train originated and whatever its destination
It’s in my station now and I am grateful to be on board.

Suzy Q's Mother

February 17

Suzy Q’s Mother

Through process of elimination I have had to learn who G-d is and who G-d isn’t. When it comes down to my understanding everything incomprehensible is off the table and what is left is mine, all mine. I can’t fathom an all powerful G-d; therefore my G-d is not all powerful. I can not begin to comprehend a vengeful G-d, as you might have guessed; my G-d is not vengeful. Because of these constraints I have a non-omnipotent G-d, one with limitations and bounds. This doesn’t mean I love my G-d any less in fact it may be why I love my G-d so very much. And G-d loves me with a Mother love that trails me to the depths and heights of the path, but like any mother, she can’t do everything. My G-d is accomplished and wonderful, but there are days that I need things, which lay outside my Higher Power’s area of expertise and I must turn to help beyond our little circle of two. This is not easy at first. We both feel awkward in the attempt, but Suzy Q lives two houses down and her mother still has her hook shot from college and since my mom’s experience of basketball is that it’s the court you walk through to go play tennis, I ask Mrs. Q with help making the three point shots. I don’t have to understand Suzy Q’s mother, I leave that to Suzy. I just have to ask for help, learn the jump and go home when I’m done. It’s nice to be able to slam dunk, but there is no place like home.

Recommend earnestness

*

THIN ICE

The ice is brittle, transparent and breaking away.
I brace for destruction, turmoil and frigid descent.
I am stuck in my topside thinking
And cannot realize the chance for freedom the cracking expanse promises.

I am an oceanic creature.
I can escape my watery bonds with the splitting of the ice.
Trapped in a hole I keep open only through the friction of my unrest
I am kept from the community of life to which I belong.

My reflection mixes with my view of the sky
And I forget my place, forget my name,
Forget how I have come to be trapped here.

The pining after what is not mine to have
Has brought me to this thin edge.
I must break through to be who I am.
In doing so I shatter the illusion of who I thought I was.

Zeal to zenith
I must move away from the phantasm and mockery
And take refuge in what I am