Utility of Emotion

July 5

UTILITY OF EMOTION

I plug into the utility of my emotions.  These utilities aid my life as all utilities do.  The duel prong of anger serves to light me up and gives me strength to set good boundaries.  The four-line clip cord of pain allows me to keep in touch with my Higher Power, my friends, and my fellows.  I have nothing to share if I can’t stay real about my pain.  Fear is hard to contain and is carefully piped.  Explosions of fear can start so easily it’s a good thing its foul odor can be smelled in the air.  The coaxial cable of joy screws neatly into the back of my mind and gives me endless delight, color and sound; these are the privileges of sobriety.  Emotions are plainly utilitarian but they help me survive and make living into a life.

Touch all the letters in your name.

*

The Biggest Chicken

I love to be mystical,

but the only dragon in my life

is when I let things drag on and on.

Procrastination is the winged beast in my world

and when she is slain the sun comes out

and I can count my blessings and plan for my possibilities.

The deep ditch left by depression

is where the lizard lays; siphoning my time

and sucking clean the bones of my wasted talents.

I have lunged and poked, stabbed her with my steel

and blown holes in her with my revolver,

but not until I sever the tendon with which she holds me

in her grasp do I have any real chance to be rid of her claws.

Once free of her I must be forever vigilant

lest her smothering song lure me back to that evil nest

where I feel as helpless as her egg.

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

For Want of Frith

June 25

For Want of Frith

I feel like I am standing on a trap door, every flex in my footing triggers insecurity.  With my arms spread wide, I think the wiser move might be to hold them to my sides.  For if the little square did give way my arms might be sheered off with no time served for the tears I’ve cried or the blood now shed sprinkled on the earth.  Step from this, I tell myself, do not make delay, for all the ground is not a trap nor all the world a stage.  But is it not the trade in pain that sticks me to this spot and keeps me here for all my life just waiting for the drop. 

Sweep a path to your goals

*

UTILITY OF EMOTION

I plug into the utility of my emotions

These utilities aid my life as all utilities do.

The duel prong of anger serves to light me up

And gives me strength to set boundaries.

The four line clip cord of pain allows me to keep in touch

With my Higher Power, my friends and my fellows.

I have nothing to share if I can’t stay real about my pain

.

Fear is hard to contain and is carefully piped

Explosions of fear can start so easily,

It’s a good thing its foul odor can be smelled in the air.

The co-axial cable of joy screws neatly into the back of my mind

And gives me delight,

Color and sound are the privileges of sobriety.

Emotions are plainly utilitarian

But they help me survive

And make living into a life.

Please Sir

April 5

Please Sir

Gratitude is a thing which collects and solidifies, it’s pink and I can walk around on it.  Some days it is a broad highway and other times a winding spindling track.  Ever present if I am mindful, gratitude roots out pests and pestilence while planting a garden beyond my dreams.  Gratitude is like handholding; it warms and strengthens me, keeps me connected to real life and reassures me that I am not alone.  Many days I find a way to make a face and pout, plundering the rich rewards of sobriety for the thin gruel of discontent, poke me with a stick on these days and remind me who I am, for I am never Oliver even if I feel a little twist.

Rest between great ideas

*

FEELING TEMPLES

I failed to appreciate the initial onslaught of feelings
I spent much time trying to capture them
Lock them away or in some other way submarine them

This only had the effect of retarding my recovery
I had to reframe my thinking
I had to start with simple calisthenics, embrace and celebrate

As my emotional health began to take shape
I started the foundations for tiny shrines
Each with its own theme

Happiness had a party going on until all hours
With grief there seemed to be a constant internment in progress
Body or no

Fear showed on IMAX film
Of the realities of life on earth
Curiosity had an endless library plus a DSL line

Making myself a willing and frequent visitor
To these contrasting places
Created in me wholeness and peace

Never again do I have to trudge
The two dimensional desert
Of my monochromatic former life

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

Also a Gift

October 10

ALSO A GIFT

Sadness is as life affirming as joy, but in the same way that people eat together but defecate alone, joy is encouraged in public and sadness is a private matter.  Happiness is embraced and discouragement relegated, even though personal experience shows disappointment is often a point of growth.  What beauty and change stem from disillusion, but still it is hard to look directly at grief and not flinch away.  The temptation to feign pleasure and leave sadness swept under the carpet is strong.  It is an unwelcome job to be the defender of grief, a job that should be unnecessary, in the same way that the valley between the mountains is unnecessary to defend.  We are not giants who can step from one mountaintop to the next.

Try a new game for body, mind and laughs.

*

Ping Pong Balls and Possession

I keep an aquarium with a goldfish on my counter

and sometimes he splashes my work

proving to me that the thing I think I have contained

often has a mind of its own.

I have heard that goldfish don’t remember much,

but mine always knows which side of the tank

provides him a view of me.

Memory may be reflexive.

Assumption possibly is as well.

I must keep a fresh account of what is within my grasp

and what can swim away.

I have heard the many fish tales

from the part of me that likes to lie.

The scales shimmer and lure me to pretend control

when in truth it is all just a game of chance.

Works

September 24

WORKS

I cry the waterworks so necessary to the healing of my heart.  I explode with the fireworks required for anger to set living boundaries.  I sleep the sleep of angels, as I link to dreamworks allowing mental maintenance to occur.  Slipping into my political face I make time for public works.  I return to my abode, call the pie maker and order ‘the works.’  Have it delivered so I can face the mountain of homework waiting for me and bearing my name.

Suggest solutions in your diary.

*

No Dialing Tonight.

When it is late at night and I can’t sleep

I wander and putter and plan my dreams.

I hold out hopes and wash their faces;

pray for rain and clean all traces.

Thunderstorms rumble and lightning strikes;

I tune up the plumbing and wipe down the pipes.

All the paint and promises in the world won’t change me;

I’m still lost in the dark without you.

Tear stains are friendly till I wash them away

leaving blotchy eyes that can’t be explained;

an aching heart that keeps on ticking

and wishes that can’t come true.

Sunday morning is here, too soon

and life rolls on whether you think it should.

Tiny thoughts come out to play

and sad, sad fears keep them at bay.

But the dog is curled up under the covers without a care;

I long to disturb her but do not dare.

She is the queen here and I’m but the naïve;

I’ll tend to my writing and try to be brave.

For the dawn will follow this endless nocturne;

the whole world will be safe once more.

I will cry but it’s all too late;

though you are merely a phone call away.

Utility of Emotion

July 5

UTILITY OF EMOTION

I plug into the utility of my emotions.  These utilities aid my life as all utilities do.  The duel prong of anger serves to light me up and gives me strength to set good boundaries.  The four-line clip cord of pain allows me to keep in touch with my Higher Power, my friends, and my fellows.  I have nothing to share if I can’t stay real about my pain.  Fear is hard to contain and is carefully piped.  Explosions of fear can start so easily it’s a good thing its foul odor can be smelled in the air.  The coaxial cable of joy screws neatly into the back of my mind and gives me endless delight, color and sound; these are the privileges of sobriety.  Emotions are plainly utilitarian but they help me survive and make living into a life.

Touch all the letters in your name.

*

The Biggest Chicken

I love to be mystical,

but the only dragon in my life

is when I let things drag on and on.

Procrastination is the winged beast in my world

and when she is slain the sun comes out

and I can count my blessings and plan for my possibilities.

The deep ditch left by depression

is where the lizard lays; siphoning my time

and sucking clean the bones of my wasted talents.

I have lunged and poked, stabbed her with my steel

and blown holes in her with my revolver,

but not until I sever the tendon with which she holds me

in her grasp do I have any real chance to be rid of her claws.

Once free of her I must be forever vigilant

lest her smothering song lure me back to that evil nest

where I feel as helpless as her egg.