Suddenly

March 23

Suddenly

Creeping realization has never been my experience with G-d’s handy work in my kitchen.  I start out making a mess and I find in short order that G-d has made a meal; fit food for apt hunger.  I could throw myself into the kneading and shaping, but without the yeast which is so freely given I have no bread; only a lump that will choke me in the end.  Even my very own abilities are gifts I was incapable of offering to myself and are only found here in my possession through sheer grace.  I have woken up with my face saliva glued to the table top far too often only to discover my Higher Power doing and I am grateful; for without that action I would be un-done.

Learn to live with the shadow of the moon

*

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?"

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

Revelations

March 9

Revelations

And I, Sherrie, had a new freedom and a new happiness for the first freedom and the first happiness were passed away.  And there were no more tears. This is how it should be and for the most part this is how it is.  Hell’s gates hang broken on their hinges and I walk free.  The world is mine to explore and I am happy.  More than a notion, my life is a fact; sounder than a bank note and I am on an emotional foot race to keep pace with my recovering self.  Could it be lost?  Lost like paradise, lost like I was lost before?  Why, yes, all could be lost and that is what makes this freedom truly free and this happiness truly happy, they are mine, mine to keep and mine to lose, they may not be in my control but they are within my reach.

Voir dere contempt

*

VOLUNTARY MUTE

I have learned I don't have to answer just because someone asks.
I have learned to change subjects.
I have learned it is better to say nothing.

Repeating the phrase, "It's just my opinion."
Followed with, "I could be wrong."
Has proven insufficient.

Somehow things frequently turn out worse than I expected
But as of yet none have turned out better.
This upsets.

People become angry when I am correct.
They are less angry when I'm silent.
I tell the truth and trouble follows.

I didn't get sober to lie so I keep my mouth shut.
There is no reason to distress folks
And reality has a way of doing that.

Silence is my new defense
I hide in it
And find my new freedom.

Unless it's my sponsor, my sponsee or my cherished friend
Battening down the hatches saves me from a tempest
And spare others their outburst.

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

Simultaneous Acceptance

February 8

Simultaneous Acceptance

Being typical is a difficult thing to live with, but I am typical.  Being extraordinary is a challenging thing to live up to, but this is also mine to bear, you see I am a typical alcoholic after all.  Walking with one foot in each camp is not enough. I must simultaneously accept both my common commonality and my lottery winner uniqueness if I am to travel hand in hand with my Higher Power.  If I don’t integrate this double reality, allow it to imprint my thoughts the way it is tattooed in my DNA I can not possibly take the biggest step of all and drop my judgment of these things so that humility can dwell within.  You see there is not enough room in the vortex of my humanness to accommodate the jags of verdict and the desire for the sublime smoothness of humility. I can’t chase humility I have had to face that, but I can remove the impediments to its residence.

Have some compassion for your wounds

*

READY

Ready or not here it comes.
Life on terms of its own.
Bracing for the onslaught of gravity
I grip too well the implements of past days.

Fearing the pressure, I lay in my shallow grave,
The ground having been scooped out by my own hand.
Withering from expectation, my blood runs slow and dark,
Reducing to coagulated futility, loosing my life in anticipation of death.

Attempts at being less, as means of protection,
Less is not a solution.
Fading does not make life more livable
It makes me unavailable.

Readiness is my responsibility, it is momentary, momentary is sufficient.
Sobriety is nothing more than lining myself up with the needs of this instant
I need go no further,
Whole solutions are not my department.

Showing up,

dressed and washed,

ball and bat in hand if possible,

Just making it to the lineup is my full-time job.
Even if I never swing

It is better than being buried in the field

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

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,

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.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/ZG5jJR7cY5M

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 Fruit Bowl

September 7

THE FRUIT BOWL

Meetings are living and precious fruit.  I must squeeze every drop from them, even the lemons.  I am privileged to be among the succulent growth and pungent fragrance of determined hearts and minds.  The infusion of strength, the vitality received from the essence of truth gives and gives to me.  I am refreshed by exposure to raw talent, revived by action and growth.  The diversity of shape and flavor cheer and inspire me.  The contrast from bowl to chalice is dramatic, ever a reminder to stay where it’s fresh.

An offer is better than a gift.

*

Genius

I am often bonded to a self which thinks I know everything

and when in doubt believes I should know even if I don’t.

Freeing me of this requires the constant support

of friends and neighbors’ assuring me that in a capricious world

willingness is a more practical resource;

it packs neatly and handles most jobs with aplomb.

Staying consistently free from the bondage of self

requires truckloads of willingness

and the spirit of humility and sometimes even forgiveness.

I am freer when I like myself,

for the true bondage of self is the hatred of self.

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 Living Dream

July 25

THE LIVING DREAM

Throwing yourself into the river in pieces drowns you as crumbs.  Casting aside love and longing makes you less in your heart, and your soul stops beating.  Pitching your tent with critics and complainers leaves you out in the cold on warm summer evenings.  Crest the hill to meet the rising sun; orbit the constellations without hesitation.  Petit-point the pictures in your mind, then set them to music.  The world is your dream.  Live it into reality.

Picture your voice.

*

God

I need help.

I need help availing myself of the help

You have provided me.

I am embarrassed to lack the ability

to complete all the steps necessary

for achieving the goals you have set before me.

I see now that it is always my turn with you

and I can stop standing aside

believing that I have had your attention

and must now do without.

I do not want to ask for more;

I don’t want to seem greedy.

I forget that you know my heart

and that you trust me.

I am going to make that a two-way street,

maybe a four-lane highway.

I need help,

thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie

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

Spontaneous Generation

July 11

SPONTANEOUS GENERATION

Dust under the bed turns into bugs. My grandfather believed in these alchemies of myth.   I thought myself free from the small witchcrafts of threat.  The longer I stay sober, the more real is the insidious nature of my disease.  Mental clutter does breed all manner of squirming and chattering vermin.  Every intellectual closet I leave uncleaned is a brooding box of contempt, false pride and bloated ego. The synchronism of hatchling defects and nursing grudges, fairy tale thinking and firebrand action, mimic Grandpa’s bedbug rantings.  I can never turn my back on unswept philosophy or the dross of assumptions I’ve left waiting in piles.  Spiritual house cleaning is all that saves me from the transmigration of blood sucking, life-draining phantasm.  Supernatural transformation needn’t plague me if I take right action. The difference between blessings and curses is the direction you are going.

Tiptoe into your heart for a peek.

*

A Year for Me

The world is my mollusk

and I am its pennyweight paragon,

witty girl that I am.

I have spent enough time

surrounded by wet feet and confining shells,

all held at the bottom of the sea.

This is a year for me.

I am going to climb over the rim of my briny brink

and try myself against the fearsome winds of chance.

Although souse is buoyant

I feel strong enough to stand my ground.

Time has come for life, open and raw,

but I shall leave the clams to the casino.

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

Gulping

June 9

GULPING

The plug that lodges in my throat from too much, too fast, causes the anxiety to rise in me.  The panic fulls my contracting muscles into rock solid revolt.  'I can’t live' is the predictable result.  Gulping attention, acclaim, excitement, sex does the same thing.  My heart clots and my personality stops in mid flow.  Everything, in carefully chosen well-chewed bites, makes the process proceed.  My life works along workable paths if I stay away from oversized freight.  I can never swallow myself whole; why would I keep trying to imbibe giants like desire?

Tumble your heart like a stone then warm it.

*

Prize Catch

There is a reason that fish flap and twist

when they are caught,

why even though they are in the air

they fight for the life that once was theirs

Only martyrs go without a fight,

it is good to know that at least this vice is not mine.

When I did not love my life its loss was not an actual change,

there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to struggle for.

Now I thrash at the feel of my loved life slipping from me.

It is good to know I have passion enough to rally a defense.

My life can be taken from me, but I haven’t lost my will to fight.

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

Power

May 29

POWER

When power arrives, it comes complete with blindfold, mask and lullaby.  I am blinded to what effect I have.  Others cannot see me, only the unchanging masquerade covering my face.  All my fears and apprehensions are soothed by the melody singing in my ear.  I am possessed.  The hard thump of the bottom reaching up to get me is my sole hope of release.  I can’t reason my way back from a trip with power; the isolation is too far-reaching, my senses numbed, my thinking biased.  Salvation as a cold smack is the jolt required.  Fire takes fire; power takes the same.

Draw your own lines then color out of them.

*

Black & Dedication

The brand of equipment endorsed by my Higher Power

is built so that my hand is clasped inside

lest I feel alone or unaided.

A closed mouth and an open mind work very well

when I can manage either of them

and Step 10 works when I can’t.

I am usually the problem in my life

but I am always the solution. 

Others may change and contribute;

I am the one and only one, responsible for my happiness.

Dropping blame from my vocabulary and adding responsibility,

learning to differentiate between what is mine and what is yours;

these tools are keys and they open worlds of possibility to me.

Also they shut out the demons of wrong thinking,

wrong acting and desperation, which used to plague me.

There are still greater tools I yearn for

but like everything I must be patient

and build my muscles to handle the heavier machinery.

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

On-Coming

May 11

ON-COMING

Anticipation of the approaching traffic consumes.  The tiny spec grows and develops into the arriving vehicle.  50 miles per and the rapid succession of the coming and those leaving eats quickly at my heart.  The pain seers me.  Why are these who travel from the direction of my destination passing me by?  For miles and miles, they appear to be greeters.  The breeze created by their passing chaps my face and I question my goals.  How can so many abandon my objective?  But flee it they do.  My hunger does not diminish and I press on.  Of course if we all went this way, we might tip the globe.   Maybe that’s what they fear.

Smile with your eyes, laugh with your hands, rest your heart, ease your mind.

*

Be That Girl

I have tried to protect the investment I made in the past

by selling the soul of my future.

I arrived self-possessed, a winning girl,

but I slid the self from the scene leaving me simply possessed.

I gained everything then lost it a piece at a time

starting with the parts nearest my heart.

I must draw the shards together once more

and mend this lovely crystal.

The art of living is insured by my action

not by grasping at slivers in terror

of what slips from my fingers.

I am what I have inviolate

and all else comes to fruition when I am pleased;

when I am myself.

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

Transitions

May 5

TRANSITIONS

During the months of winter, the trees stand tall and leafless---static in their appearance, frozen in direction.  The insurgence of spring brings to life the truth.  The buds and flowers show the draw of their owners---the pull of life from the earth and sky.  Other trees have begun to restore the gifts so graciously given.  These leafless giants open themselves as home and sustenance to the surrounding community---returning favors and flavors, coming to terms with wholeness.  Celebrations of all I have call for me to give it all back, even during the time when we all look the same.

Always step out of the spotlight before it burns you.

*

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.

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

When a Snapper Crosses the Road

April 29

WHEN A SNAPPER CROSSES THE ROAD

What should I do?  I see the soggy green/gray lump creeping the macadam too slow to survive for long.  The surge in me, to aim and end the duckling eater's life, is a short-lived but palpable surge.  My Disney style justice is dismissed but heard from nonetheless.  Shall I pull over and assist?  This turtle is as ill equipped for this stretch of road as I am ill equipped to aid in its conveyance.  Should I reach with fingers or toes to something I know can extend its neck and sever me from parts I hold dear?  The ever-present missionary in me has spoken and is silenced.  In fact, what I can do is slow down and give wide berth.  I know this creature is a danger, but never more so than me.

Plot your graph and measure your curve.

*

Terry Bradshaw

When someone wants to take the easy way out

I condemn them for wanting ease

and fail to register that they want out.

I hear a whine when in fact it’s a cry.

A challenge is rarely passed up by the able bodied,

but must be foregone by the injured.

Carried from the field is no personal victory,

not a goal for sure.

When I would rather watch than play

I need to check for wounds not inflict them.

It is not natural for me to sit in the stands,

but accusation is never the way to get me on the field.

Suit up when I’m whole and hide when I’m not.

Absence is a fallback position for the fallen

I have to help myself to get back up.

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

Blue Crows

March 31

BLUE CROWS

Blue crows streak across my dreaming mind’s sky; they take up their post in a line of trees.  I stand at the edge of a burning field.  I feel nauseous at the thought of glorifying an ‘active’ life.  Everything is burned, scarred and crumpled; the flashy crows call from the hedgerow.  I know it’s time to fly.  The fire is out and I have work to do to keep the sparks and dormant embers from ruining another harvest.  I must travel with these strange birds and live an odd but regimented life.  I needn’t scorch my feet on this ground again but, like my companions, must spend some time in survey.  If I do not fully assess this damage, I might not fully embrace this dawn.

Bury your dead issues.

*

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.

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

And I Believe You

March 5

AND I BELIEVE YOU

“This will be easy,” says my sponsor.

“Oh, yes.  Simplicity itself.  I’m sure,” I respond.  “I’ve participated in these plans before.”

“We get good results,” she retorts.

“I love how you pick goals, which are intellectual straight lines and emotional roller coasters.  You do it with an open face, not a modicum of guilt.”

“Why should I feel guilty?  You keep getting better; I keep staying sober.  What is there to feel bad about?”

“The guileless look on your face; I fall for it every time, but no more.  I know you’re cunning.  You know this will be hard.  I remember when we worked on honesty.  What could have been simpler?  Or hope, how sweet a concept.  After thirty rounds on the floor with setting limits, I realized you’re like the bean seller that Jack met.  You say they are magic beans and I believe you.  You say they will grow to the sky.  I know they will and I will climb them.  Just don’t tell me it will be easy.”

Write an advertisement for your best quality.

*

A Duck Trying to Teach a Fish to Swim

Just because you’ve been in the water

doesn’t mean you know how to swim.

Just because you swim in the water

doesn’t mean you can teach me how.

Floating on top and plunging your head

under the surface occasionally

doesn’t qualify you to safe guard me.

Poaching is unpleasant to those of us caught,

we that were foolish enough to believe

that birds of a feather can teach school

are picked off and swallowed

by the benevolence of so much quack.

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

Life is Unfair

February 19

LIFE IS UNFAIR

Assuring myself I will not be permitted through the gate, I walk the perimeter, assessing the fence, looking for a place to exploit, a wire slightly high.  Trying to look graceful, I duck under the fence, telling myself I prefer life on the edge.  The water is less dangerous here on the fringe; I wouldn’t want to be swept away.  I stay clear of my peers.  I stand in the baby pool and feel confident I won’t drown, brushing from my conscience that I won’t swim either.

Struggling to the top of the pile or scurrying underneath is a blatant lack of humility.  Skirting the margin is the same.  Facing life and finding it unfair, I take to the world of exception and hope to slip through the cracks to a life of safety.  In that act I discount my talent and ability.  Worst of all, I disconnect from God.

Toy with your thoughts, play with your food.

*

Jenny

Though ignorance may be bliss,

living in the shadow of someone else’s

ignorance is sheer hell.

The confusion is bad, but the lies are worse.

Want to cripple a child for life

give it to a well meaning fool

who has the rule book to the wrong board game,

That child will grow to need crutches they don’t make

and medicine they can’t brew.

Dependent on misguided insanity the child will require

a miracle cure and may lack the ability to ingest it.

Best case scenario the kid makes a brave escape

into a world she can barely comprehend,

worse case she turns the rule book upside down

and reads it backwards to her own unfortunate brood.

Ignorance is always a twilight proposition,

half agreement the other half handcuffed nightmare.

Full consent is by necessity impossible

while blameless innocents is similarly unachievable.

The only suggestion I can make

from this side of the looking glass

is to pick your poison and plan your getaway.

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 Seamless Door

February 7

THE SEAMLESS DOOR

Tongue and groove fit tight; the pickled boards belie the passage.  Hinges buried deep, secreted inside the place with no words, the door remains shut, hidden.  The air, candy sweet, the space, filled with the unbroken stream of surreal childhood.  What can I tell you of this living snapshot?  Nothing but the haltings, stops and shudders of a life encapsulated.  Proudly, I walk from this train wreck only to find the tether stitched to my heart, my soul, my mind.  Flashing through the room, I weary and wonder.  I have often found myself outside this confusing destination, but never have I seen the door.  Always, I believe, this time I am free of it.  When I find myself again within this realm, I know it is something I can not be parted from. 

Then what of the door?  The undetected portal was spied by me one day while it swung in the breeze.  I saw the simple barn and the open loft door; I never thought my incubus to be housed in so plain a construction.  There the turmoil of my forward motion stored in the attic of the pony shed.  So many tragic contrivances are stored in such candid spots.  Accessibility is the beginning of approach; I take the stairs.

Remember willingness doesn’t need to float; it swims

*

Two Powers

The river and the bridge;

one force swift and roiling

the other stolid and stoic,

The first carries me away

and the other carries me over.

For the love of liquid, current and life

I have slipped in to the water

and washed; my life abandoned.

For love of upright contact,

terra bound movement and love

I cross the bridge.

Will I be deposited in the Ocean

or wend to the City and back?

Where is the greater power

in Surrender or Choice?

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 Throng

February 6

THE THRONG

The more people I meet, the more vehemently I do not believe in God.  The tidal wave of human ignorance hits me and the sheer and repetitive force of it is more than my single souled craft can bear.  Cyclical, coincidental tragedy coupled with purposeful meanness, barbed with arrogance and misaligned fear hold my child's faith under a scalding bath of realism.  What to do?  I do not know. 

The fragility and perniciousness of life war with each other, though loss wins out.  What can I use to keep myself from withdrawal into despondent hibernation?  Looking for glimmers of goodness in the sea of overwhelming depravity is not cutting it with me.  Mystery as an explanation is not working either.  I am not a retarded five-year-old; I am a despairing thirty-eight-year-old and I am tired of game-playing and coyness.  I want a God to arrive, not with explanations, but solutions.  I am not looking for a punishing parent to send errant persons to bed without supper.  I am looking for the equation of repair, the dance steps to healing.  I am yearning for a global twelfth step, a universal attunement and galactic spiritual awakening.  And by the way, I want it now.

If you can’t write, sing.

*

More Than Less

There is a difference between

doing G-d’s will and winning,

though sometimes they look the same.

Skin deep appearance or monetary prowess

share no border with the will of G-d,

but these can stack as transparencies

seeming invisible to the uninitiated practitioner.

The organs exist and blood flows in the living thing

and the shell is hard, lifeless; though it glints.

Success can be the mantel of right compliance

or the shroud of something deadly.

I mustn’t be pushed or pulled by the desire

of accolades or acceptance,

nor shall I flee into a trap for fear of ridicule or rejection.

The lacerations of emotional infliction,

unloving judgments and imprudent fallout

cause me to flinch in the face of changing focus

and relinquishing hope of control.

I am powerless over everything and responsible to everything.

Anything else is incidental

and with loving help will work out if I do not panic.

Ah, to love myself as G-d loves me.

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

Entree Entree

December 28

Entrée Entrée

I am not one to order an appetizer, I prefer the main meal.  Even if I carry the majority of the entrée home I like to have it all there before me.  Knowing there is enough, might I want it, means peace of mind and I can relax and eat what I wish.  That’s how much I fear.  Fear opening my mouth to ask for more.  Fear not anticipating my actual appetite.  Fear of having nothing to show for my evening out.  What could it all be like had I felt free of rules and public policy that must be carried out in private?  I might never know, but what I do know is that I need to overcome this.  Not because of starving children near or far, not to eliminate the science experiments of mold growth and wilted lettuce in my frig, but in order that I have a chance to have my desert and eat it too and leave the rest unordered.

Lubricate the places where you get stuck

*

Burying the Impossible Dream

I didn’t waken it and twist it in a shroud

I propped it in a corner and attempted to play house.

I didn’t face the truth and love the loss that goes along

I clung tighter than tight and buried my face in the back of its shirt.

I didn’t stand and look in the mirror

I stared into space and played the film strips of futurity.

I didn’t breathe in and out keeping my heart aloft

I held it all with empty lungs and pallid pulseless bosom

I didn’t do the things I could not do

I did the things I had to do

I didn’t think I could ever let it go

I know now that I must

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

Thief in the Night

November 9

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, though you may have found yourself a kinder critic or a more likened mind.  Bad actors have no leg to stand on for critique.  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.

Ferocity is a gift, but not a toy

*

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 foundation of civilization as we know it.

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.

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

Matching

October 14

Matching

“Matching calamity for serenity,” is a task requiring attentive diligence.  Each tragedy has its unique blast pattern and necessitates a precisely cut cure.  Coverage is one concern and depth is another, the weight of the healing atmosphere must equal the corrosive depletion caused by ruin.  I have to make available the wound in order to receive the remedy; anytime I camouflage or barricade my injury I have eliminated the opportunity for a corresponding solution.  Knowing this fact and answering it with right action is the job of a lifetime, but I cannot think of a more productive use of my time.

Admit to the uniforms you wear

*

SLIPSTREAM

I look in the rearview mirror
I see the headliner and a river flowing out behind me.
Dual viewing is the kind gift of hindsight.

I can see my internal workings and the past laid bare.
The beauty and sadness can transfix me.
I will lose my way if I keep looking back.

I catch glimpses and move my eyes forward.
I can’t advance without a full vision
So I remain grateful for the mirror.
Awareness and cognition, the brakes and the gas
I have the full package.
I just have to make sure to steer.

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