Give me a Goose Any Day

April 4

Give Me a Goose Any Day

The geese breaking wind resistance, the close ones, the far ones, the ones behind trumpeting, this is the gang who gets me sober and keeps me that way.  Maybe you think that G-d is not a flock of geese, but it has been my experience and the honking and the mess are part of it all.  I spend my days making sure I am one of them.   Sometimes I am even in the lead, which may seem like a place of honor and prestige, but is actually a lot of hard work.  Sometime I am the cheering squawker who makes my encouragement heard.  Other times I am the one waddling around leaving an untidiness behind me.  All of this just makes me part of the flock.  I am especially fond of my nest mates though they are often the ones I chase and bluster at the most.  I feel a sense of identity and pride when I see any goose flying high and know that because we don’t do it alone we are able to do it together.

Pet inspiration

*

FINE PRINT

I can scrawl the wall with everything I know
I can fill my books chapter and verse
With pure and honest hope
But let me begin the precision of language and watch.

My once open face becomes tight
My associations peek regularly around each corner
Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare

Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical
And God floats off untethered
Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers
Scrupulous observance never advances my sails

I must meet life with an open hand
The devil may not always be in the details
But check the fine print to be sure.

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

Fine Print

April 9

FINE PRINT

I can scrawl the wall with everything I know.  I can fill my books, chapter and verse, with pure and honest hope, but let me begin the precision of language and watch.  My once open face becomes tight; my free associations peek regularly around each corner.  Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare.  Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical and God floats off untethered.  Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers.  Scrupulous observance never advances my sails.  I must meet life with an open hand.  The devil may not be in the details but be sure to check the fine print.

Open one eye and wink at the possibilities.

*

Stumbling Under the Tenth Step

When I’ve been outside of my mind

it is so hard to tell when I’ve come home again.

The landmarks take on such distortion in memory

that the facts seem bloated or anorexic

as I turn my face from side to side.

Old journals remind me of old journeys

and perhaps there are accurate landmarks mentioned

but how can I know for sure that these too

are not just the ravings of a mind gone mad.

Real or imagined I must take the daily count

and try to keep the score

in favor of the actual.

I don’t always know that I’ve fallen

until I inventory the dirt on my face,

but better that I face the dirt

than live the delusion of a mole.

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

Give me a Goose Any Day

April 4

Give Me a Goose Any Day

The geese breaking wind resistance, the close ones, the far ones, the ones behind trumpeting, this is the gang who gets me sober and keeps me that way.  Maybe you think that G-d is not a flock of geese, but it has been my experience and the honking and the mess are part of it all.  I spend my days making sure I am one of them.   Sometimes I am even in the lead, which may seem like a place of honor and prestige, but is actually a lot of hard work.  Sometime I am the cheering squawker who makes my encouragement heard.  Other times I am the one waddling around leaving an untidiness behind me.  All of this just makes me part of the flock.  I am especially fond of my nest mates though they are often the ones I chase and bluster at the most.  I feel a sense of identity and pride when I see any goose flying high and know that because we don’t do it alone we are able to do it together.

Pet inspiration

*

FINE PRINT

I can scrawl the wall with everything I know
I can fill my books chapter and verse
With pure and honest hope
But let me begin the precision of language and watch.

My once open face becomes tight
My associations peek regularly around each corner
Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare

Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical
And God floats off untethered
Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers
Scrupulous observance never advances my sails

I must meet life with an open hand
The devil may not always be in the details
But check the fine print to be sure.

Fine Print

April 9

FINE PRINT

I can scrawl the wall with everything I know. I can fill my books, chapter and verse, with pure and honest hope, but let me begin the precision of language and watch. My once open face becomes tight; my free associations peek regularly around each corner. Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare. Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical and God floats off untethered. Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers. Scrupulous observance never advances my sails. I must meet life with an open hand. The devil may not be in the details but be sure to check the fine print.

Open one eye and wink at the possibilities.

*

Stumbling Under the Tenth Step

When I’ve been outside of my mind

it is so hard to tell when I’ve come home again.

The landmarks take on such distortion in memory

that the facts seem bloated or anorexic

as I turn my face from side to side.

Old journals remind me of old journeys

and perhaps there are accurate landmarks mentioned

but how can I know for sure that these too

are not just the ravings of a mind gone mad.

Real or imagined I must take the daily count

and try to keep the score

in favor of the actual.

I don’t always know that I’ve fallen

until I inventory the dirt on my face,

but better that I face the dirt

than live the delusion of a mole.