New Borne

March 27

New Borne

What happens when you finally get what you want, what you barely dared to dream?  What happens when you can hardly do more than drip tears down from smiling eyes?  Where do you go with a future filled with proposed joy?  Heaven is an option if only you believed, but hell has been such a perennial destination it’s hard to realize there will be no return trip this year or possibly ever again.  The work required to change from an attitude of longing to one of satisfaction is as real as all the work needed thus far.  Tending love is a host of disciplines I want to step to, like I have done it all my life, like I was born to do it and I was, yet, still growth is accompanied by its own pain and awkwardness and who am I to deny this treat.  Any new life worth living is worth the pain to bear it.    

Turn up your smile

*

FEELINGS

Getting my feelings back
Was like a package delivered.
Not a letter bomb
More like live squid or bait of some kind
It was something to catch me out there.

I think overcoming the shock
Was more or less the small part
Though it seemed to loom at the time.
The squirming, the writhing of my soul
Was like a pregnancy following a bad dream.

I wondered how this became a part of me.
I squandered my days
Hoping it would leave quietly some night soon.
Like all difficult relationships
I attempted to hold my breath through it.

Failing this, I tried to offer my feelings a guest wing in my heart
And a never ending supply of tea and cookies.
When the reality of life with feelings planted itself firmly in me
I let out my breath, stopped the hostess act
And endeavored to roll with it.

This worked well.
I have since invested in a wet-suit and fins
The squid are much easier to live with
When I meet them on their turf.

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

My Babies

July 31

MY BABIES

Too often I have abandoned the infants of my creativity to doorways and charities.  Having little patience I did not raise them to their intended station.  Joyful parentage need not stop at the cutting of the cord.  Downplaying the importance of each birth, I would leave beauty and art to be foundlings and the province of others.  I can share the guardianship of these precious gifts and be more than a brood mare for cunning and craft.  I have neglected things apparent for the promise of each new conception.  Overpopulation weakens the body of my work and leaves my portfolio listless and immature.

Touch your finger with your nose.

*

Charmed by Snow

Warm weather snow falls in fat full flakes;

I am living in a world of dreams and sweet peas.

Sudden dustings sparkle and surprise

leaving as quickly as they came;

yet the world is kinder now.

Beauty is an ambush of the heart.

My breath alters, accelerates,

speeding me to a smile, an illustration of joy.

Crows walk the edge of the hedgerow,

prattling on as they do;

snow to their ankles and food on their minds.

I drive over the mountains

discovering myself as the recipient,

the receiver of all this great gift, this life.

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

My Sober Heart

May 12

MY SOBER HEART

The heart I have today is not the heart I have had all my life.  Cells age and are replaced.  I slough off what I can no longer use and rejuvenate with fresh layers.  My sobriety is the same.  Past step work is revamped and approached in innovative ways.  Yesterday's prayers are replaced with today’s; today’s meditations will be dispelled by tomorrow’s.  The function remains the same but it is constructed with brand new work.  Service I render is always for my sobriety but I work to strengthen various quadrants.  My heart is not as young as it used to be and vigorous action remakes it new each day.  I rebuild my sober heart continually because forever and today I have the mind of an alcoholic.

Time your thinking so it can fire your mind.

*

No Stone Left Behind

An anchor attaches at the lower extremities stabilizing me,

an albatross is the thing weighing me down from the top,

it tips me, throws me to the ground.

I must remember to choose ferrous instruments

over long necked birds.

Often it’s not the amount of drag, but where it’s affixed.

There are so many variables,

so much to think through, yet I often react

and pick up what seems as harmless as a flock of sea gulls

And turns out to be worse than an iron maiden.

Leaving not tern unstoned is bad,

but do I really have the time to do it the other way around?

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

Two X's

March 25

Two X’s

I play sport at the three X folks and their still sometimes skewed thinking.  Yet, I attack myself for feeling like a babe in the woods.  Old and wise should be my stock and trade by now though I find vastness at my door regularly and confidence struggles to peek in the window.  What in the world will I do if I can’t perfect this stuff soon?  Hopefully nothing as foolish as fretting or anything as mean spirited as accusation, possibly I could try reception.  Truly this only comes in gift wrap and after twenty years I would hope I had learned to live in the present. 

Think kindly of chickens if not of cowards

*

THE ORPHANAGE OF MY HEART

The orphanage of my heart hold many children of the past
They gaze at me
Fixed in an attempt to draw me near their needs

I scurry, often my head down, eyes averted
Not knowing how to offer comfort or consideration
To these hapless souls.

Fearing the largess of poverty
I decline to open my small purse
What could I tender
Other than a tease?

Nearly barren, in my heartbroken, disconsolate, inconsolable state,
I rarely even obligate myself to extending my hand
This is the pit of my idiocy

These wee ones have the world of hope and strength to give
I am their offertory
I am the place where their gold resides
They live inside me to fill me and bind me to life and light

I flee them in the height of misunderstanding
Disconnected from these inner spirits I am impoverished
And far too weak to grasp their help

I too fogged to see the world within
Starve in the world without

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

True Voice

December 23

TRUE VOICE

Some tears pour from my eyes and others from my heart.  What once was a head-game and theory is now heartfelt and real.  I have grown in my compassion, leaving qualification on the curb.  Letters and notice mean so little in the full-out scheme of all the world; like fashion, what is true today, stood on and dependable, is next years joke and off-hand reference.  The thump of the muscle deep within me is a compass I can trust.  The daily tide of splash and rush can spring water to my face, but what rouses my spirit is much more.  I needn’t worry for its receding or discount that it is faithful; it abides with me still and will keep me if I let it.  Some sounds ring from my voice; others resonate from within, these are the ones that last.

Aim is as important as a strong arm.

*

Entrée Entrée

I am not one to order an appetizer,

I prefer the main meal.

Even if I carry the majority of the entrée home

I like to have it all there before me.

Knowing there is enough, might I want it,

means peace of mind

and I can relax and eat what I wish.

That’s how much I fear.

Fear opening my mouth to ask for more.

Fear not anticipating my actual appetite.

Fear of having nothing to show for my evening out.

What could it all be like

had I felt free of rules and public policy

that must be carried out in private?

I might never know,

but what I do know is

that I need to overcome this.

Not because of starving children near or far,

not to eliminate the science experiments

of mold growth and wilted lettuce in my frig,

But in order that I have a chance to have my desert

and eat it too

and leave the rest unordered.

My Sober Heart

May 12

MY SOBER HEART

The heart I have today is not the heart I have had all my life.  Cells age and are replaced.  I slough off what I can no longer use and rejuvenate with fresh layers.  My sobriety is the same.  Past step work is revamped and approached in innovative ways.  Yesterday's prayers are replaced with today’s; today’s meditations will be dispelled by tomorrow’s.  The function remains the same but it is constructed with brand new work.  Service I render is always for my sobriety but I work to strengthen various quadrants.  My heart is not as young as it used to be and vigorous action remakes it new each day.  I rebuild my sober heart continually because forever and today I have the mind of an alcoholic.

Time your thinking so it can fire your mind.

*

No Stone Left Behind

An anchor attaches at the lower extremities stabilizing me,

an albatross is the thing weighing me down from the top,

it tips me, throws me to the ground.

I must remember to choose ferrous instruments

over long necked birds.

Often it’s not the amount of drag, but where it’s affixed.

There are so many variables,

so much to think through, yet I often react

and pick up what seems as harmless as a flock of sea gulls

And turns out to be worse than an iron maiden.

Leaving not tern unstoned is bad,

but do I really have the time to do it the other way around?

Catch

January 13

CATCH

How can my sensibility catch my intellect? Or find a map with enough information to get my heart to the current location of my mind? What are the common markers recognized by soul and brain? I know the pulse of my wrist is counter-pointing the firing of my synapses. My life signs run their course and I struggle to find the intersections. I long for more than signposts and curbing. I would like parallels, paradigms and conclusions. There must be a place of common home and hearth. I am looking for the depot of my life. I hope I hit it before I hit the coast.

Warm your heart with your thoughts.

*

Offset

I often feel out of round

and unmatched to my counterparts.

Awkwardly I sit unable to strike a plausible pose.

I want my asymmetry to seem chic.

I feel a victim of universal ugliness

and gracelessly plod through my days.

Luckily offset thinking,

the partner of my offset soul, saves me.

I see that I am uniquely useful,

Like a screwdriver set at right angles

for use where a straight one could not reach.

I am counterbalance and compensation.

I may be lateral but I am also collateral.

I am an embellisher, beneficial in unexpected ways

and shouldn’t seek to be inline with the multitude.

I am the new growth,

the spur to the future.

Smarts

September 18

SMARTS



Intelligence should be used as a tool not a weapon. Intelligence is as common as silica and can be used to do anything, so, why not as a helping hand, lifeline, foothold? Intelligence doesn’t preclude ignorance, arrogance or stupidity. Nor does it eliminate selfishness, greed or anarchy. Intelligence is not a substitute for wisdom and cannot hold a candle to kindness. Intelligence makes things possible, help and hurt; intention makes the decision. Intelligence is like a hand full of sand.


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