Sponsorship

January 28

Sponsorship

Right now, as I think of sponsorship, I think of all the things I have done wrong.  Times when I was not understanding enough and times when I was too understanding and enabling.  Sponsors I chose for ulterior motives and the ones I didn't challenge when they wandered away.  I search my mind for the ingredients that were in the mix when things went well and the dominant component was willingness, mine and theirs.  Whether I was sponsor or sponsee, willingness overrode ability, determination and love.  We had to come to the table willing, this was never something we were able to cook up or construct.  Nor is it something I can always hold onto, sometimes willingness evaporates or slips away like sand in a clenched fist.  The permanence and impermanence of sponsorship awes and frightens me.  Like a guidewire twisted from many strands none of which reaches from end to end I worry about the unraveling but depend on the strength.

Expectations are incubating resentments

*

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 oil.

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 arm pits
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 is 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 your own sponsees"

I stick out my tongue in her general direction.

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

Wild

September 23

WILD

When I run wild through the rain my hair streaming behind me, water fleeing my face, I see with my heart the thousand other rains pouring from my past.  How I peel from me the soaking luggage covering my naked pain.  Nothing drives me to the cozy retreat of my bed like the humid chill of an early fall drizzle.  I slip my trembling skin between the comfort and the comforter, flex my toes, towel my hair, wipe scenes of lost love from my pale, pale soul.  Leaves rush my gutters, clog my mind.  I see the change in me as I turn heel to heel, trees spinning bare in a blank wet world.  I know this ever relived fluid, this recycled life.

Interest yourself.

*

What is Dear?

I am angry that I was taught I must hold on for dear life

instead of being taught that life is dear,

but they couldn’t teach me what they didn’t know

and couldn’t know what they had not discovered for themselves.

I wish I had learned earlier

to love the life I was taught to cling to,

but I am grateful I have been bound to life

long enough to find the joy in it.

I have found that knowing joy

causes me to cling all the more,

cling in sweetness to what was once such a bitter task.

I am angry for what I wasn’t taught,

but sadder still for what they didn’t know

and all that is lost in their lives to ignorance and tradition.

I wanted better for them

and they wanted better for me

and this is the circle which closes

around the dear that I hold onto.

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

Mythic Adult

June 2

MYTHIC ADULT

My mythic adult is seen by the crowds around me; never is the charade exposed.  Close inspection has been suspended so we can keep each other’s secrets.  Circulating through the crowd, these children are impoverished from carrying this load of pretense.  Dropping this burden is a risk far too great.  Exposure invites attack.  Stand tall; act brave.  Unreasonable expectations are the water that moves the wheel, the power that generates this ongoing play.  Hamlet is dead, yet I reprise the part daily.  Daily I watch my fellows do the same.  I mimic a ghost I never knew in life.  Did it ever live?  Or is it only a mythic adult?

Plant some things for their flower and others for their fruit.

*

Head Wringing

I have my say, though my fear is

that I constantly repeat myself;

very much the way a crow calls the same thing endlessly,

but it all has different meanings to the crow.

I would offer code keys to my readers

if I could lay my hands on one.

My mind whispers that the soothing

people get from my work is like the calm

induced by chanting monks.

Possibly it is more the actor’s trick of reading repetitive lines

each time putting the emphasis on a different word;

a way of squeezing all the juice from nonsense.

I jot ideas swearing these lines are to be found somewhere

in my previous work, perhaps whole pages are redundant.

Finally I stop this fight reminding myself I have but one voice

and what I accuse myself of as similarity might merely be my style.

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

Celebrations

May 24

CELEBRATIONS

“You wore a wrist corsage to the dump?”

“You said to celebrate every activity,” I retorted to my sponsor.

“Yes, by doing them with purpose.  Not everything needs to be a production number.  Sometimes just showing up is enough.  Putting too much energy into preparation can leave you without resources.  It’s okay to make an appearance, do the simple act and move on.  That is a celebration in its own way.  Don’t squander your vitality on the mundane.  Do you know what I mean?” asks my sponsor.

“Don’t waste flowers on trash heaps?"  I answer.

“Yes, and don’t wipe your bottom with poetry.  I mention this in case you get any ideas.”

Put flower petals in your phone book

*

If Garfunkel Was Here

Speak of the dead and paint the living.

Paint them in a good light when you can

and into a corner when you have to.

Read the books of future generations

rather than acting as the arrogant,

who attempt to write these volumes.

Expunge nothing leave it all on view,

but move past it after taking in the implications.

Water flows under the bridge until it collapses

then it carries the bridge away.

So, speak of the dead don’t drown them,

paint the living don’t stain them,

look to the future don’t dictate to it

and let the water run.

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

The Playground

April 14

THE PLAYGROUND

Getting my ass kicked in the playground of my mind was once a daily event.  Now, it is a far off memory.  I absent myself from the jungle gym the same way I absent myself from bars---places set with traps and schemes I am no longer attracted to.  Bullies and ego trips can’t draw me toward the fence.  Dares and double-dares are such ancient devices I can’t even find the trigger they used to pull.  Trouble doesn’t know my new name, my sober name; I don’t answer to the old one.  I hate to admit the isolation of my school yard days, but no one I knew back then will keep me on the road to the future.  So, I leave the ball in their court and wish them well.

Expectations are lovely as long as you leave off the outcomes.

*

Not Fur but Fin

You can’t delay the river,

I’ve tried, all it does is distort.

I block the flow and swamp ensues,

mighty oaks waist deep in water.

The current is strong

and I fear being swept away,

not realizing I was born to swim.

Dreading the swim back for spawn

I try to stay too close to my origins,

never make it to open water,

never to live the life I was intended for.

I’ve heard it said,

“Don’t push the river it flows by itself,”

but I can’t stall it either.

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

Taking the Field

July 20

Taking the Field

Humor is an illustration; a joke, an explanation.  I learn far more from the smiles than the jeers.  Laughter carries me; an action, which tears can’t always accomplish.  It is hard to live with constant descent, but wit is a quick impassioned friend.  Thoughtless conformity is an evil companion I prefer the company of those who play.  Life is too hard from the sidelines; I would rather take the field.

Find a pit crew before you crash

*

DEFINITIONS

I am close to my Higher Power

But I have no words to describe It.

I have found it best to say nothing unless asked.

When I do speak it is always the path I took

Or the way I held my face.

I know the things, which changed

And the wind, which blew.

This is not the sketch most people seek.

My skin is brown and my smile broad.

This is not from over exposure to beams of light.

Closeness warms me, I glow from standing near.

I know the face and form is different for everyday

I must not stop for definitions.

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

Special

July 10

Special

Is it the wiring between my ears, the size of the pump in my chest?  The difference which can be seen when you look from me to the neighbors? I know that you feel me to be special.  I feel me to be special, too, just like you.  Defining that thing, that combination which unlocks the mundane is more than just an attempt to point a finger; it’s a search for that little light.  Close and closer we pull together and that is special, but now I will whisper it, tell you the secret truth is my ability to play.  Come play with me!

Whistle with the tune the wind brings you

*

IT’S MY PARTY

The party I was throwing myself in addiction

Was nothing but a very long wake.

There were no smiles, only murmurs of what might have been.

I was filled with tears I couldn’t cry

And mourned my death as I caused it.

When I took off my little black dress

And stepped from this shroud

I closed the bar, clicked the switch and the dirge stopped.

The funeral ended prematurely

I walked into AA where I learned to be the life of the party.

Shimmer

July 9

SHIMMER

The water ruffles over metallic sheen, lap after lap screen the view, and still the gilt reflection shines in my eyes.  Hypnotic, the undulence pulls me near.  I stand on the edge, gaze, then gawk; I follow the underwater movements and iridescent tremolo.  I forget place and time. I lose sight of the facts.  Gold isn’t the only thing that shimmers. Sometimes that glint is just a fish.  Life is full of fins and fantasy.  My sponsor suggests I stop looking for my life in a wishing well.

Think of all beans as magical in someway.

*

Special

Is it the wiring between my ears,

the size of the pump in my chest?

The difference which can be seen

when you look from me to the neighbors?

I know that you feel me to be special.

I feel me to be special, too,

just like you.

Defining that thing, that combination

which unlocks the mundane

is more than just an attempt to point a finger,

it’s a search for that little light.

Close and closer we pull together

and that is special but now I will whisper it,

tell you the secret truth is my ability to play.

Come play with me!

Taking the Field

July 20

Taking the Field

Humor is an illustration; a joke, an explanation. I learn far more from the smiles than the jeers. Laughter carries me; an action, which tears can’t always accomplish. It is hard to live with constant descent, but wit is a quick impassioned friend. Thoughtless conformity is an evil companion I prefer the company of those who play. Life is too hard from the sidelines; I would rather take the field.

Find a pit crew before you crash

*

DEFINITIONS

I am close to my Higher Power

But I have no words to describe It.

I have found it best to say nothing unless asked.

When I do speak it is always the path I took

Or the way I held my face.

I know the things, which changed

And the wind, which blew.

This is not the sketch most people seek.

My skin is brown and my smile broad.

This is not from over exposure to beams of light.

Closeness warms me, I glow from standing near.

I know the face and form is different for everyday

I must not stop for definitions.

Special

July 10

Special

Is it the wiring between my ears, the size of the pump in my chest? The difference which can be seen when you look from me to the neighbors? I know that you feel me to be special. I feel me to be special, too, just like you. Defining that thing, that combination which unlocks the mundane is more than just an attempt to point a finger; it’s a search for that little light. Close and closer we pull together and that is special but now I will whisper it, tell you the secret truth is my ability to play. Come play with me!

Whistle with the tune the wind brings you

*

IT’S MY PARTY

The party I was throwing myself in addiction

Was nothing but a very long wake.

There were no smiles, only murmurs of what might have been.

I was filled with tears I couldn’t cry

And mourned my death as I caused it.

When I took off my little black dress

And stepped from this shroud

I closed the bar, clicked the switch and the dirge stopped.

The funeral ended prematurely

I walked into AA where I learned to be the life of the party.

Game Playing

August 1

GAME PLAYING



My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game, doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy. My trouble is my own. I pursue trivia at my discretion. I take or reject risk at will. I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes but don’t expect to live in a candyland. When I stick my hand in the mouse trap, or fall down the shoots and need to climb the ladders, I know the game may not be over, but it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.


Keep a game with you.

Game Playing

August 1

GAME PLAYING



My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game, doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy. My trouble is my own. I pursue trivia at my discretion. I take or reject risk at will. I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes but don’t expect to live in a candyland. When I stick my hand in the mouse trap, or fall down the shoots and need to climb the ladders, I know the game may not be over, but it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.


Keep a game with you.