October 1
OLD BOOKKEEPING, NEW PAINTING
What will become of the fine lines I use to divide good news
from bad? How will I handle a life with
no screen to keep the silt from shifting across my personal landscape? A delicate crosshatch had kept little checks
in little boxes; now the checks are bouncing randomly, no pattern or
restraint. My old bookkeeping has come
to an abrupt end, leaving many questions and much uncertainty. I lift the green visor from my brow, looking
for answers from the periphery. Taking
the long view I put down my pencil and pick up my paints, sling the easel over
my shoulder and walk away from meticulous survival. The fine lines I have now are in my brush
strokes and even bad news is somehow good.
Donate some time.
*
Saltbox House
Refusing to make reasonable demands
is quite as dysfunctional as making unreasonable demands.
The opposite of an extreme is often twice as crazy
and harder to explain.
I open my mouth and dry toast is the reply.
Nothing should be said when nothing can be done
and to do nothing is harder than one might think.
I fold my hands but my lap rejects them;
I quiet my mind but my soul objects.
I must let my heart sing
and trust you enough to ask for help.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
