Pepo

January 11

Pepo

My father used to destroy a perfectly good watermelon by cutting a triangle in the top and pouring a bottle of vodka into it.  I used to destroy my perfectly good melon the same way.  Emulating bad ideas in new ways was a onetime pastime of mine.  Giving it up was harder than I had expected.  Flawed thinking blends so freely with my mental landscape I have trouble distinguishing it.  Condemning the action and not the man is not usually my preferred method.  I would rather condemn the man, but this leaves me with the actions in place and him long gone.  And though I prefer him gone I will recreate him within myself if I don’t flush his actions as well.  I have a good pumpkin on my shoulders but it is my job to keep it intact.

No need to wait for joy, jump when you please

*

LIFE IS TOO GOOD

I know it sounds crazy, is crazy
But I hate having the fear, the gnawing gut, of WHAT IF
WHAT IF I can't maintain this, the sober life I live.
WHAT IF I get struck, unable to connect to my Higher Power?

I had a spiritual awaking
WHAT IF I get spiritual narcolepsy?
My spiritual cord was cut when I was young, not by my choosing
WHAT IF it gets cut again?

"WHAT IF this line of thinking cuts it?" Asks my sponsor
I hate when she's right.
WHAT IF this is a test?
Be like them or not.

Follow the path of the twelve steps
When there is no weight of need pushing me
When everything is going in my direction
I have to keep my eye on the ball for myself.

I am still not God
This is the lesson
The abusers never learned
The one I have to.

What went wrong was not bad people
Making bad choices, in bad circumstances
It was disconnected people
Making decisions without help.

I have to stay in your pocket
Never be a free bird
I have to remember what true freedom is
It's not being cut loose.

I have had that
And it never felt free
Keep your eye on the ball
And hold onto my hand.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/zq1kwGdS8dI

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

Life is too Good

January 12

LIFE IS TOO GOOD

I know it sounds crazy.  Is crazy.  But I hate having the fear, the gnawing gut of “what if I can’t maintain this”?   The sober life I live, what if I get struck unable to connect to my Higher Power?  I had a spiritual awakening; what if I get spiritual narcolepsy?  My spiritual cord was cut when I was young, not by my choosing.  What if it’s cut again?

“What if this line of thinking cuts it?” asks my sponsor

I hate when she’s right.  What if this is the test?  Be like them or not.  Follow the path of the twelve steps when there is no weight of need pushing me.  I have to keep my eye on the ball for myself when everything is going in my direction.  I’m still not God.  This is the lesson the abusers never learned.  The one I have to. 

“This has been a prelude to a decision,” says she.

What decision?

“What went wrong was not bad people making bad choices in bad circumstances.  It was disconnected people making decisions without help.”

I have to stay in your pocket.  Never be a free bird.  I have to remember what true freedom is.  It’s not being cut loose.  I had that and it never felt free.

“Keep your eye on the ball; hold onto my hand.”

Read a children’s book to yourself.

*

Live Bait

Is being a taunt to others really a life?

Dangling as the cover for a hook,

luring intended and unintended to their deaths,

is that living?

Or if I draw you with my attack

rather than my appeal

is that a worthwhile existence?

If I carry myself filled with poison

praying for a strike is that anything

other than a march to an unhappy grave

for two, or more?

Hidden under an avalanche of harassment

strips me of my vital quality

and my soul loses its true nature.

I am allowed to transcend

the setup of competition and social strife.

It’s alright to be tempting with no agenda.

I could be an appetizer

if only I removed the barbs

or better yet I could be dessert.

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

Michal Rovner

August 10

Michal Rovner

I have numbered all the blocks in my ancestral walls.  This has enabled me to recreate them stone by stone everywhere I go.  It all fits to create the tomb I now have to learn to leave.  I must change the equation and reorder the numbers allowing these rocks to be recycled and find a wonderful useful life as a stairway out of this pit of despair.  What was once an edifice to lives unlived is now able to facilitate elevation, a restoration of a level playing field.  It was not wrong for me to catalog the stones and there was no way for me to leave them behind, but nothing matches the satisfaction of using them to build a life, except for the ability to live in it.

Take a look at yourself from a distance

*

THE SEDUCTION OF SOBRIETY

I was seduced away from my duties

As an alcoholic by the promise of sobriety,

Allegiance to my disease was sidelined.

Alluring stability and beguiling integrity

Curried favor with my desperate heart,

Pulling me from the arranged marriage of addiction.

How could I cling to the corpse of dependence

When sanity shimmered just out of reach,

Then not out of reach but within my grasp.

I couldn’t resist the golden flicker of life.

I had been bound to death

Unable to see an alternative.

My loyalty to loss and grief slipped from me

And I limped into the daylight,

Like the widow of the night.

I have been lured to my senses

By a love like no other,

The love of life.

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

Flaw in Snow

November 30

FLAW IN SNOW

Waiting for snow.  Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads, warm beds, reading by firelight.  Waiting for the proof of lack of control.  Waiting itself proves lack of control.  I can dance the snow dance and refuse to buy new shovels, hang out laundry, put out every manner of storm tempters; still I cannot force the hand of nature.  I must sit with my crystalline optimism and endure these cloudless skies.  There will be snow, it will fall somewhere, but I mustn’t grow overanxious ‘cause it may never snow in Miami.

Treat yourself with learning.

*

My Most Important Meal

Sweet potato pudding sits on the plate;

I sit in my place and wield my spoon

until the plate is clean.

I’m fed, my day begins.

If this is the best part of my day,

life is still sweet and fine.

Time skips its way through and I meet and greet

the splendid and the few.

Picking my way, the raindrops step aside;

I am gratified, though I never mind the rain.

When the mud has settled and my bed calls me home;

I look back to the start of the day

and pray to begin the next one the very same way.