Showing posts with label crying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crying. Show all posts

Thursday, March 5, 2015

What

March 5


What and When, When and How……and Why


Arriving at the place where I have nothing to prove, afforded me the luxury of not having to proclaim the amount of time I have, when I share in a meeting.  Taking the score keeping out of the equation I was then able to think of what it was that motivated me to speak in a meeting.  Self-Possession, a great gift to inhabit, a greater gift to demonstrate; quiet dignity is a real favorite of mine.  If I am calm yet in control, if there is time, if there is a lull, I can share parts of my experience.  If I have chaos, an agenda, a theory, a grudge it is all better left unsaid in the meeting and saved for the less vulnerable ear of my sponsor.  For if I am wrong I might persuade in error and if I am right I might convert in righteousness. 
 Why is it that what I never say rings louder than anything I do?




Leave gossip where you find it




*

MOTE

I dug the mote, the alligators came on their own.
The rain fell, I did not bid it.
I've burned all the bridges
I've sold the farm.

I wonder at the company I keep
The birds fly in and stay for a season
Friends used to wave as they passed
Now my island is overgrown.

I stand to my chin in the tall grass
I guess it's a matter of maintenance
What I don't keep pruned grows back
The connections I don't secure weaken and fail.

I am subject to all that falls, if I don't keep my roof on.
The wind chaps me without the walls of my home
No clothes and I burn
No joy and all I do is cry.

It takes more than a continuous ditch
To protect my heart.
More than water and reptiles
To safeguard my soul.



You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Nurse

January 30


NURSE

What if the word God is like the word nurse?  What if the person is only the simple meaning?  The actor doing the service, the plain act, uncontrollable from my end.  What if my active part of God is the same as my active part of nurse?  What I draw down; how I schedule myself to be ready when the milk arrives?  How I pull and am satisfied, digest and draw again, like the sea laps at the shore, the moon tugging it all the while.  What if God is about my hunger, satisfaction dependent on finding a suitable teat? 
Maybe this is why, when it comes to God, much of what I do is cry.  When faced with my need, I open my mouth, finding only two possible responses: suck or scream.  My aching consumes me and I don’t know how to calm myself.  I look for the caretaker, the person, the deed.  I need succor, but never look for the breast.  I am the child of God; I must learn to draw God in.


Paint a picture of life after expectation.
*

Inertia

n.

1.     Physics.  The tendency of a body to resist acceleration.
The tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest
or of a body in straight line motion to stay in
motion in a straight line unless acted on by an
outside force. Resistance or disinclination to
motion, action, or change.

This force is real; the laws that govern it act on me for well and ill.
When I’m on a roll it’s hard to guide me
and like the girl with the curl; when I’m stuck,
I’m very, very stuck and it’s awful.

I am bound by this reality and go or stay according to what is set
in motion or stopped, but what about ‘the outside force’?
Am I in charge of summoning ‘it’ or is ‘it’ summonable at all?

Will ‘it’ obey like the dog, or obey like the cat?
Or is ‘it’ more random than the rain?
Can ‘it’ be lured or tempted or does ‘it lure and tempt me?

And the biggest questions on my mind:
Is ‘the outside force’ also subject to inertia?
Are we in this together?

What is ‘its’ outside force?
Might it have something to do with me?


You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault