Showing posts with label myths. Show all posts
Showing posts with label myths. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Archimedes Put a Boulder in my Path

October 28

ARCHIMEDES PUT A BOULDER IN MY PATH



Place a lever under the boulder and press down, never so hard as to warp the lever.  Move the pivot and push under in a new place.  Keep doing this until you have pushed deeply and well from every aspect of the boulder in your path.  This works every time, not because it dislodges the boulder but because it somehow changes me.  The path may also appear different and often the boulder drops from view.  It may not be gone but seems less intractable.  My life goes on.  I have found it important to retain my lever and pivot; there is never just one boulder.


Invent a new greeting.


*
To Your Health

Health is a pleasure;
health restored is celebration
girded with gratitude.

The shock of illness quickly imbeds itself
to an irrefutable unchangeable fact.
When this veil is lifted the body responds with glee,
the soul with relief touched with disbelief.

The satisfaction of being hale is the bedrock
and once this is shaken
its return is nothing more than astonishing.

I am never more aware of the miraculous nature of life
than when I feel alive once more
after having felt the doom of sickness.


You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Spontaneous Generation


July 11

SPONTANEOUS GENERATION

Dust under the bed turns into bugs. My grandfather believed in these alchemies of myth.   I thought myself free from the small witchcrafts of threat.  The longer I stay sober, the more real is the insidious nature of my disease.  Mental clutter does breed all manner of squirming and chattering vermin.  Every intellectual closet I leave uncleaned is a brooding box of contempt, false pride and bloated ego. The synchronism of hatchling defects and nursing grudges, fairy tale thinking and firebrand action, mimic Grandpa’s bedbug rantings.  I can never turn my back on unswept philosophy or the dross of assumptions I’ve left waiting in piles.  Spiritual house cleaning is all that saves me from the transmigration of blood sucking, life-draining phantasm.  Supernatural transformation needn’t plague me if I take right action. The difference between blessings and curses is the direction you are going.


Tiptoe into your heart for a peek.

*
A Year for Me



The world is my mollusk
and I am its pennyweight paragon,
witty girl that I am.

I have spent enough time
surrounded by wet feet and confining shells,
all held at the bottom of the sea.

This is a year for me.
I am going to climb over the rim of my briny brink
and try myself against the fearsome winds of chance.

Although souse is buoyant
I feel strong enough to stand my ground.
Time has come for life, open and raw,
but I shall leave the clams to the casino.