Three Toys Floating

November 14

THREE TOYS FLOATING

I bat the ducks across the surface of my bath.  Soaking is supposed to calm me.  I’m waiting.  I assure you my impatience is no help to this process.  These yellow, tub-bound misfits grinning at me don’t fill me with the joy of living, either.  I have blown bubbles until I’m blue.  I smell like a French elevator from the bath oils.  My hair is stiff with conditioner; my face packed with mud.  “Do the right thing," said my sponsor.  She is such a pain.  Here I am bubble bath to my armpits, and not a hint of peace.  Her question rings, “What do you want?”  But isn’t it obvious?  If I knew that, what would I be doing wrinkling in this swilling vat?  I wouldn’t.  I would be out doing my ‘thing’, whatever that ‘thing’ is.  How I’m going to figure myself out I don’t know.  And ‘she’ is no help, (you know who ‘she’ is, she the sponsor lady) 

So what do I want?

World peace.       A clue.        Maybe just a hint.

But I know part of it.  I know more than I admit.

I want sobriety and happiness, dignity and respect, enough time to do these things, and love.

“Well," says she, “those things are easy.  Work the steps, then the traditions; practice them, do service, and take the advice you give to your own sponsees.”

I stick out my tongue in her general direction.

Creep toward the unknown.

*

Surfs Up

The first time I arrive at the beach the tide is a shock to me.

I had no way to anticipate it.

As the days pass I calm, realizing there is a rhythm

and that the sea won’t escape the shore.

Over time I begin to anticipate the movement

and then rely on it.

I learn to live with the in and out nature of the water

lapping the lip of sand;

What it brings and what it takes away.

I am human, I adapt, I survive.

How do I make the jump to blessing the moon?

How do I touch the divine?

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

Halloween

October 31

Halloween

“Why does self-centered fear wear a costume that looks so much like ‘other people’s opinion’?” I asked my sponsor.

“For the same reason that booze masquerades as ‘a good time.’  How would you ever fall into a pit which used no pretense?  Naked ambition attracts far fewer devotees than addicts of ‘must make Mama and Daddy proud’ or the ‘doing better for my kids crowd’.”

“Ambition is not all together bad!” I crow.

“Neither is fear in its proper scale, but fear cloaks itself to seize more than its share of your life, just like any parasite.  So take your spring tonic like a good kid and keep the worms at bay.”

Don’t bother licking the self stick stamps

*

FLORAL ECSTASY

I could eat fields of buttercups
And drink down ponds of water lilies.
Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers
I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe
And under pin with nettles.

I could rise with the roses
Lay with the lilies
Shade with the sage
Sing with the trumpet vines

Run away from home
With a Turks cap on my head
And a pansy in my pocket
Until the four o’clock say
Its time to come home.
For evening primrose and then bed.

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

Jacks

October 23

Jacks

Born crazy, is that better than becoming deranged?  Do birth affects excuse my unrepentant glee?  Does irrepressible sardonic wit explain the order of restless exposition?  Can you count on Cicadic enthusiasm to carry me, or flightless fancy to keep me down?  I am beyond redemption, beyond reception, beyond device.  I arrived riddled with chaotic cracks, but I am more than just a glaze and deep down I’m more than sound, so walk with my wild side and your thoughts I’ll rearrange.

When you can’t fill the void, wallpaper

*

BEFORE THE END OF THE ROAD

Before the end of the road tiny stone lay on the side
Freshly painted lines glimmer in this twilight trance.
Walking the macadam, the crunch underfoot
Changes my perspective.

No steering wheel or accelerator
This is ankle express all the way.
Walking the road , step by step, on my own
I am part of the soft and growing world.
Progressing on a plan of separate integrity

Moist, lush wonder, is missed
By the motor speedway I let rule my life
Honeyed sweetness covers the vegetation
Swaying in the undulating air born pulse.

I am tempted to lie down and have a roll
But my role tonight is to reach the end of the road.
When my goal is achieved I may choose
A woodland life or an urban endeavor.

Seeing the end of this path is job enough for now.
Decisions anticipated prior to arrival
Are foolish diversions.
I need to stay, not stray with the dancers in the wind.

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

The Boat

December 5

THE BOAT

On my ride home from work there is a boat stuck between two trees in the middle of a horse pasture next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass.  I think the boat is me.  I feel for the boat every time I see it.  Turned on edge, waiting for a river, which doesn't exist anymore and may never exist again.  Placed on edge for protection, not comfort. Although having my bottom rot out, well, let's just say might be more uncomfortable.  What good will I be even if the river runs again since I'm fenced in?  My sponsor says I shouldn't ask any question which starts with the word 'why'.  You know my reply.

If my Higher Power has a plan...if it includes a river and a fence…  if I'm in this plan, me, the rowboat…I just don't see it.  Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life says my sponsor.  I don't tell her the theme in hers.

Truth is, I don't want to face the fact I might float away. Even though I'm supported by two big trees.  Even though there is a tall fence all around me.  Completely in spite of the fact THERE IS NO WATER!  My Higher Power loves me.  I am the boat.

Enjoy the flowers and slide on the snow.

*

It All Points to Joy

Can Love reweave the fabric which hate destroys?

Can Kindness resew the field

torn through with disregard?

Can Beauty paint the world anew

after so much ugliness has rained down upon us?

My heart believes these three cannot fail

to make things right

for what other point could there be than Joy?