Stretching

May 20

STRETCHING

Stretching is not equivalent to change.  Limbering is nice and warms the muscles, body and soul.  Over-reaching, over-compensation is trauma; it distorts the symmetry and breeds erroneous thinking.  Extension beyond the bounds sets me up for a fall.  I misinterpret touching with fingertips with a firm and able grasp.  I don’t step forward because I believe I have a hand on things, failing to see how this is different from an embrace.  The sinew tears and the fabric of my life is destroyed.  I lean forward but I go nowhere.

Open an old letter and read it with a fresh mind.

*

Inspection

My disease paid a discourtesy call on my bourgeoning sobriety.

Peeked in to look for cracks in my foundation,

weaknesses to exploit.

I recognized the patch job I had toyed with

would have made the easiest of targets for this eroding thug.

I am ever so grateful that I cleaned off all the bricks

and made new mortar.

Built on bedrock my re-laid block

will withstand the indignity of the pounding prodding sickness

which used to inhabit this once dilapidated space.

I can keep the villain at bay

and live my cozy life thanks to a true level

and the handsome turn of my trowel.

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

To Your Health

October 29

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.

Throw out ancestral trash

*

QUILTER

What more comfort can exist in the world
Than a conglomeration of turned edges and love?
Fancy stitches or not the assembled world of cloth
Stands testament to devotion and diligence.

Careful collections, meaningful to the collector
And mysterious to the possessor,
Fulfill the primal urge to shelter and be safe.
Time is testimony to endurance.

Thread against thread,
Solidarity is strength embracing flexibility.
The bed of life is made and remade daily
With the affection of kind quilters needles of love.

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.

Circular Needles

June 14

Circular Needles

I react badly when I find a loose thread because I never know what might be unraveling.  I have knit my heart out; have dropped an occasional stitch to be sure.  Unbeknown to me these little holes in my logic wait for the stress of overextension to run through the length of my life, untying earnest work.  If I could catch these unsecured thoughts before it all goes too far, I might have a chance to hook back into the main fabric and prevent this unfurling of collateral.  When the cord is cut and the line flaps freely real panic ensues.  Even if capture of both ends is possible, knots are awkward, unseemly and gauche.  I was planning a seamless life, smooth and beyond reproach.  My fear of reprisal flares before the ever-burning coals of abject self-doubt have a chance to be felt. This banked inferno generates the things which bake and fry my nerves, burn my threads and disintegrate my mantle.  I need to put out the fire before I re-knit my world.

Teach desire to breathe

*

TOO FAR, TOO FAST

Balloons filled with hydrogen

Race the atmosphere and fly away

The effect is stunning

So much lift for just pennies

The easy way has no line, no waiting

Fast dirty service is available

Risk assessment is counter-balanced

With dramatic outcome

Low initial cost and instant gratification.

How can I not want to rise above the crowd?

How can I not want it now?

Hydrogen is quick and plentiful,

Volatile, yes but why should this bother me?

I have a Higher Power to protect me

It’s not as if I were playing with fire,

I am only tempting it!

Between Two Chains

January 18

Between Two Chains

The curving movement half seen sweeps forward and catches me squarely on the chin.  Realization glimmers that next time it will strike me in the mouth and I take a step back.  I estimate the returning arc, raise my arms, push the board back from whence it came.  As it hurtles toward me once more I reposition.  Force returns force; fury comes vigorously my way and I thrust with strength and enthusiasm. And this is fine for what it is.  I have learned how not to get hit.  I can push when I get shoved.  How much better will it be when I can get on and swing?

Tie your lose ends into bows.

*

IN THE PRAIRIE

In the prairie there are small fenced cemeteries
Family plots.
The flat expanse of land opens to the eye
Hand carved monuments stand in testimony
To love and service.

In these places grow wild flowers
These places cordoned off
From mechanization and agribusiness
Held in trust are the bones of loved ones
And the soul of nature.

Blue bells, paint brush, lupines
And all manner of reedy grasses.
Deep inside me is a place like this.
The place I have buried my young.
The little ones who died of shame, neglect and hurt.

And I must return, not to exhume the dead
But to pay tribute.
To return with honor and love
Harvest the daisies and buttercups.
Grow them in the garden of my heart.

I can tend the flowers
Which spring from destruction
I can mingle them with the growth of my sober life.
Restore my prairie
To a splendor it has never known.

I can enjoy the bounty
Of saving seeds worth saving
And planting my Higher Powers will for me.

Archimedes Puts 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.

Walking Joy Home

October 20

WALKING JOY HOME

I make sure to walk joy home not because I doubt her ability to find it alone, rather because it gives me extra time with her.  I used to fear joy, that I would be intoxicated by her presence and lose my well-hardened grasp on realism.  Now I see that without joy in my life there is no realism, that it was only cynicism masquerading in its place.  Joy is simple and unassuming.  I often confuse her with ecstasy and scoot away in shy terror.  Joy is nice to have around.  She is not just a party animal; sometimes I invite her over for a cup of tea.  When we are done I take the winding path to savor every step up to her door.

If you can’t lay down your burden move it from hand to hand.

*

Resilience

When I experience trauma or drama

my heart and soul return to the toddler state;

I feel the urge to stay up and push forward.

I resist help and rest.

I try to override animal need in favor of intellectual prowess.

Bleary eyed and red-faced, I soldier on,

only managing to make my life  into a ceaseless fight.

My charm and wit wear thin; then wear out.

I need to recharge my batteries,

need to hit reset and restore my default settings.

It is hard for me to accept that I must lie down

in order to get up again.

Restoration is impossible to achieve from my battle stance.

Resilience is a bouncing ball.

What I want to rise I must first throw down.

Seam Allowance

October 3

SEAM ALLOWANCE

The space given and taken, the space used to bind us and sew us fast.

The permission for humanness and the need for seams to make us whole.  The narrow margin, a shoulder on which I lean, the slender strip a place of refuge. 

          

Darts are snipped to hug the curves; I bend to fit to life. 

Our nearness; being my own part and part of more. 

Planning, and a pattern cut to order with allowances made for fraying and fragility, allow me to feel woven into a web of what is and still hope for more.  The unfinished garment is taking shape, easing and stretching.

 

And before my eyes, pins held between the teeth of God.

Keep strong words on a high shelf you have access to.

*

Have Faith

Strange and wonderful tragedy

takes you away from me

and I don’t know how it is that you return,

but you do and I thank God,

But I’m not sure it was God’s idea

that you went away or that you came back,

though, I am sure, He missed you every bit as much as I did.

I revolve the freshness of you in my mouth like candy;

I swirl, but don’t want to crack open.

Honeymoons are for people who live comprehendible lives;

we fly to each other and cling like raptors plummeting to the ground.

You leave your mark upon me I do the same for you;

we are none the worse for the wear.

I stand in the gush from the hydrant,

soaked in the pleasure, forgoing the safety.

The world may burn down again tomorrow,

I remember that it has before, but I am wiser for the singeing

and weathered with soot in my eyes and charcoal piled roundabout my legs,

yet I’m still standing and you are back from the dead

and I think of you as Lazarus.

And now we will live the comedy

for life is what lay ahead,

we took the hit of death before its time

and so must be off the hook for the rest.