Hawaiian Graffiti

August 9

HAWAIIAN GRAFFITI

White pebbles spell themselves across the black of lava grown cold.  Personal announcements proclaim love, school pride, religious freedom.  The care of placement and consideration of design make the roadside an ongoing mineral memo.  What message would I care to share?  What words would prompt me to bring a pail of crushed marble to the edge of the road?  Is there a truth so urgent I would take time from paradise to spell it out?  A few more miles and I see the words I live by strewn down the thoroughfare, “it works if you work it.”

Joint your possibilities.

*

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool, I know this,

yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.

I look into the well of my despair

then quickly I look away,

I fear informing God what I need

lest the need be filled.

I need to believe that a power will heal me,

but if I am provided with the force of life,

I shrink from the prospect.

This too, must be added to the list

of my emotional woes and mental shortages.

This too, will be healed.

I look at my problems

and then realize, that like the moon,

who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore,

solutions are installed in heaven and earth

if I know what the problem is.

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

Pick up your hammer and saw

August 9

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool.  I know this, yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.  I look into the well of my despair then quickly I look away, I fear informing G-d what I need lest the need be filled. I need to believe that a power will heal me, but if I am provided with the force of life, I shrink from the prospect.  This too, must be added to the list of my emotional woes and mental shortages.  This too, will be healed.  I look at my problems and then realize, that like the moon, who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore, solutions are installed in heaven and earth if I know what the problem is.

Experiment, start living a dream

*

COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS

Closer than comfort is willingness.

Comfort is at the skin

But willingness is under it.

I can live without comfort

But not without willingness

Both are unseen but felt deeply.

Willingness drives to the destination

And comfort settles me in once there.

Comfort is a gift like warmth,

Willingness is a gift like breath.

I have been tempted to let go of willingness

To hold onto comfort.

True willingness brings true comfort

Never the other way around.

No matter where I have to go

Willingness will take me there,

I hope comfort will follow.

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

Clock and Calendar Girl

April 2

Clock and Calendar Girl

I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through.  The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder; I climb from month to month and age to age.  When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more.  Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain.  Take away my clock and I go deaf, remove my calendar and I go blind.  Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound.

Address your future

*

THE SCULPTOR

Stuck in a block, my sponsor chips away at me
I struggle to hold still
With surgical precision she cuts through the debris
With which I have surrounded myself

After my sponsor frees my hand and arm
She places a hammer in my open fingers
When the other arm and hand are rescued
She places a chisel in that hand

This is how before my head showed above the surface
I began to help in my own restoration
I am the sculptor
The program has made me

Recovery has taught me
I can be anything
If I keep chipping away
At the things which hold me hostage

As time travels on I am a new shape
With each turn through the steps
And have an ever lustrous finish
With every application of the traditions

Hawaiian Graffiti

August 9

HAWAIIAN GRAFFITI

White pebbles spell themselves across the black of lava grown cold.  Personal announcements proclaim love, school pride, religious freedom.  The care of placement and consideration of design make the roadside an ongoing mineral memo.  What message would I care to share?  What words would prompt me to bring a pail of crushed marble to the edge of the road?  Is there a truth so urgent I would take time from paradise to spell it out?  A few more miles and I see the words I live by strewn down the thoroughfare, “it works if you work it.”

Joint your possibilities.

*

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool, I know this,

yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.

I look into the well of my despair

then quickly I look away,

I fear informing God what I need

lest the need be filled.

I need to believe that a power will heal me,

but if I am provided with the force of life,

I shrink from the prospect.

This too, must be added to the list

of my emotional woes and mental shortages.

This too, will be healed.

I look at my problems

and then realize, that like the moon,

who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore,

solutions are installed in heaven and earth

if I know what the problem is.

Toolbox

September 20

Toolbox

I know just how hard it is to pick up the right tools. It's like I know I have a hammer in the drawer, in fact I have two, so, why oh, why do I feel compelled to hit things with the heel of my shoe? Trust and believe it is ineffective at best; additionally it is embarrassing. I wish I could say I have done this a handful of times, unfortunately, I have done it over and over, it’s hell on my shoes and worse on my morale. Using what is at hand or foot may seem practical, but it is not prudent. Walking myself through the step by step process; reading and following directions is easier but only when I disengage the lie that says it’s harder.

Build a canopy over elucidation

*

SAFETY IN MY CHAIR

Sometimes

I have to sit with my knees

Tucked up under my chin

My feet can’t touch the floor

At these moments I hug my legs to me.

I feel contained

But somehow adrift in my chair.

I center my mind on breath and pulse

Pure fear flits and flutters

While I gain my composure.

When I feel safe enough

To put one foot down

Then the other and connect

With the world again.

I am leaving home to embark this earthly trek

The journey is there for me everyday

But some days I curl up in my chair.