If I name it do I know it?

March 19

If I name it do I know it?

Does emotional proximity necessitate a nearer name?  Far off I would be called earthling possibly human.  On this plain, female maybe woman; in this country Mrs. Theriault; in my home call me Sherrie, but in my bed hy calls me Baby.  Do these names offer the requisite information, no further inquires required, is it personal enough?   Is the limited nature a stunted interest from without or a privacy fence from within?  Does the boundary shift dependant upon the participants or is it an almost universal standard of metered advance and reveal?  And do I get more when I give more or does that end in less info and a change of direction?  Also who determines what I really need to know?  Wanting curiosity; my hungry mind and lonely heart do not direct all the world, yet ceaselessly they strive, shutter and ask again:  Who are you?

Step toward yourself

*

JAG

I have the most interesting lawn ornament.
It is long and sleek, low to the ground,
Resting on rubber rolls,
Steep of side and languid front and back

It has glass, glass which slants
And glass which slops into its sides.
It's paint shines when I buff it
And shows dust when I don't.

Inside there are seats and many artistic accessories
I sit on the steps and admire the thing
Then I sit in the thing and admire the porch
That's all there was until I was handed the key.

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

Death Practice

September 29

DEATH PRACTICE

“Why do you practice death like it were a skill?  Do you fear you lack ability?  Or, because it’s your goal, have you made it your hobby?”

Beleaguered by the questions of my sponsor I search quickly for some believable response.  “I confused calm with death and thought I was practicing the former…..Death came for a holiday, how could I refuse it?…..It’s a test drive, if I like it I can keep it.”  My sponsor doesn’t think I’m funny.

“Check your motives, wants and desires.  Make sure death is what you really want, that it’s not just your fallback position because you fear life.  Don’t get me wrong, I hope death is a good thing, but why try to chew tomorrow’s food when your plate is full of today?

Ride change.

*

Moniker

The Hurt carry on the tradition,

would never think to give it up,

don’t even know there is that option,

strap on their weapons without a second thought.

How can there be a second thought

when there never was a first.

Hurt is a reflex

and it moves its way through the world

like dominoes tumbling;

Everything’s knocked down

before you ever saw it standing.

So, what’s the use anyway?

So, I fall down and in that action push you forward

and we are all together in the mud.

But it is so hard to recognize anyone in the mud,

including myself and especially you.

If I hurt you that makes it hard for me to see

anything about you except my wish for your departure,

Which I subconsciously hope will take away the guilt

I can’t afford to feel.

If I make it out of the mud I can’t afford anything,

but if I don’t pay up I’ll be in new mud soon,

So I must break tradition

and the first step toward that is seeing it

and the second is calling it by its name.

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

Old Bears

March 18

OLD BEARS

Cold and despondent, nothing comforts me like the bear of early sobriety.  Bought on a day I thought I would shake apart, this fuzzy old guy has been a display item for many years now, tucked to the corner with the lace edged pillows and folded shawls.  Jittery and sleepless, it’s so easy to panic.  I turn and see the amber eyes waiting for my embrace.  His body is clothed in a hand knit child’s sweater made by a friend; the warmth of this snuggle is more than comfort.  It is also the acceptance of loss.  Quelling the dramatic highs and lows of the beginning costs many things and the depth of this is not lost in the moment.  Alone in my bed, I see the passageway to the future appearing before me.  I must rest and then walk on.  I cannot stall or simper.  Plain work is before me and simple old bear’s a consolation.

Journal your optimism.

*

If I Name it do I Know it?

Does emotional proximity necessitate a nearer name?

Far off I would be called earthling possibly human.

On this plain, female maybe woman;

In this country Mrs. Theriault;

In my home call me Sherrie,

but in my bed hy calls me Baby.

Do these names offer the requisite information,

no further inquiries required, is it personal enough?

Is the limited nature a stunted interest

from without or a privacy fence from within?

Does the boundary shift dependent upon the participants

or is it an almost universal standard

of metered advance and reveal?

And do I get more when I give more

or does that end in less info and a change of direction?

Also who determines what I really need to know?

Wanting curiosity; my hungry mind and lonely heart

do not direct all the world, yet ceaselessly they strive,

shutter and ask again:  Who are you?

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

If I name it do I know it?

March 19

If I name it do I know it?

Does emotional proximity necessitate a nearer name?  Far off I would be called earthling possibly human.  On this plain, female maybe woman; in this country Mrs. Theriault; in my home call me Sherrie, but in my bed hy calls me Baby.  Do these names offer the requisite information, no further inquires required, is it personal enough?   Is the limited nature a stunted interest from without or a privacy fence from within?  Does the boundary shift dependant upon the participants or is it an almost universal standard of metered advance and reveal?  And do I get more when I give more or does that end in less info and a change of direction?  Also who determines what I really need to know?  Wanting curiosity; my hungry mind and lonely heart do not direct all the world, yet ceaselessly they strive, shutter and ask again:  Who are you?

Step toward yourself

*

JAG

I have the most interesting lawn ornament.
It is long and sleek, low to the ground,
Resting on rubber rolls,
Steep of side and languid front and back

It has glass, glass which slants
And glass which slops into its sides.
It's paint shines when I buff it
And shows dust when I don't.

Inside there are seats and many artistic accessories
I sit on the steps and admire the thing
Then I sit in the thing and admire the porch
That's all there was until I was handed the key.

Big Name

August 3

Big Name

My name has a foreign sound; my head turns when it is called. I recognize this as training not identity. I remember teaching the dog her name. I called it while petting and praising her, soon the name was hers. Now, I think of G-d. Did we call long and loud enough to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible? Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable; assigned it a place on a shelf; somewhere to be called up from? Does the noise sound as strange as the syllables of my name sound to me? Does it matter as long as we answer?

Check for low doorbells and high expectations

*

PARADOX OF PARADISE

Paradise is created when I collect paradox and live with it.

Paradise is the set of acceptance and suspended disbelief.

If anything is possible accepting what comes is less heart wrenching.

If I arrest my misgivings

Gratification in the voluptuousness of now ---is velvet.

Vague consent is a Hell of incapacity.

Fighting fiercely for both sides

Keeps the heart pumping and the mind at bliss.

I must work to embrace contradiction and happiness

.

There is more than one path to take

And I must take that one.