March 12
SPIRITUALITY
The bedpan of spirituality was shoved under my ass in early
sobriety. It kept me from increasing the
mess with which I surround myself. The
cold smack of enamel got my attention.
The old timers showed me there is a place for my shit; it was not any of
the places I had been using. Discretion
is the better part of everything. I
needn’t show my backside everywhere I go.
My side, your side, all sides were strewn with my waste. Fragments, tatters and fearful reminders were
all there for me to clean up. Amends as
the shovel and willingness as its handle are what I use to clear my past. Sweat is refreshing when progress is being
made. I’ve made inroads; paths of travel
help me move easily from the past to the present without regret.
Write directions
to your heart.
*
Wax On
“Sometimes a dish is just a dish,” I said to my sponsor.
“Yes and sometimes it is the world away,
which you hold in your hand,” her reply.
I stand at the sink and try to wash the dishes
when I am washing the dishes.
I try to drive the car when I drive the car.
These simple acts of concentration
focus and sooth the jagged mental sutures
where I am supposed to be coming together,
but ultimately come apart.
Anything to break my frenetic gyrations is a blessing,
anything to cut away to a closer view
and a clearer understanding of where I really am;
Anything to derail the speeding blur
of a life of my creation, is good.
What I do and who I am are secrets and mysteries
when I don’t know how to pay attention
and ironies when I do.
And if you doubt me, just go ask Arnold .
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
