why is it so hard to be me?

April 1

Why is it so hard to be me?

I have everything I could wish for.  I have love and friendship, I have talent and ability.  What more could I want?  I don’t want more, I want to learn how to overcome fear and live with disappointment.  Abundance is ever at the door, but I have no room for plenty.  Reassurance is the thing I chase after, yearn for, pine about, but it is an illusive thing like taking hold of smoke.  Allusion is the gift-wrap of reality the unwrapping often puts me off the contents; regaining my composure and reestablishing willingness is a difficult job requiring dedication and fortitude.  The barrier before the carefree me is thought the strongest of all substance.  I must heal the calcifications of my mind and resist rigidity.  My thinking is what makes being me problematic without it I am nothing at all. 

Free fun from the shackles of expectation

*

ACCEPTANCE, ACTION, CHANGE

Acceptance equals action
Without action, acceptance is a death sentence
Action puts me in the hands of my Higher power
Inaction puts me at the mercy of others or worse self-justification
For acceptance to glow with life it must be moving

Action equals change
Action without change is repetition
The moon does not change
It orbits flat on it's face, forever dark on one side
And a mere reflection on the other

Change equals acceptance
Change sparks possibilities in mundane endeavor
Change without acceptance is a walk off a cliff
For change to endure, agreement is necessary
A one-sided argument is fascism and fraudulence

The heart of change is acceptance
Beating the blood of hope to the extremities
Whether we circle the heavens
Or the bowl depends on the cohesion of
Acceptance, Action and Change

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

Miraculous

December 3

MIRACULOUS

Sometimes the blind lead the deaf.  The subtle signs are the bumping into trouble and inability to listen to reason.  It is an expedition into disaster unfettered by common sense or boundaries.  Tumbles and falls propel this pairing to unknown destinations.  The attraction is baffling but undeniable.  These pairs can be seen through the ages.  In spite of this confounding coupling, sometimes the blind find their way and the deaf hear the call.  And even when they don’t, life seems to roll along.  But try to keep your eyes and ears open anyway.

Set the goalpost where you can see it.

*

Precious Cargo

Do I carry myself as well as I could?

Do I understand the value

of what is contained within me?

This journey matters,

it requires my attention and comprehension,

if only I am able.

When I fall short the road changes.

The distance I go has much to do with how well

and whether I acknowledge the nature of the cargo

with which I am embedded.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/iPT2N2sthu4

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

Openhearted Grief

October 31

OPENHEARTED GRIEF

Tell a tale of openhearted grief and closed-minded terror.  Bend the limits of misery.  Pour over the damned feelings and tired excuses.  Level the cupful of measured tyranny and wipe the drooling face of denial.  The children will not dance tonight; the grass is wet with their tears.  The dogs circle the encampment of desire and come to sleep when we are settled.  Silly ruffled whimsy won’t carry the freight but the bus pulls into the drowsy station filled with tea-lites and pantomime.  This story will close with a hand on the doorknob of hope, an eye on the jelly sandwich of contentment.  Whisper the lullaby to the ones who stay to hear it.  Morning cracks the shell to daytime.  Shattered pieces litter the night; tremors shake my peace of mind.  Sum up the analogies of broken hearts and twisted minds.

Draw from your toes, fingers and memory.

*

Desert Island

When I am left to amuse myself,

more often than not I turn my wicked wit

to redress those whose neglect I sorely feel.

This is childish, this is pointless

and yet I do it and do it well.

I am, too good at being alone and I resent it

and resent every necessity for honing that skill set.

When in the past I have made my mind up

to accept seclusion each overture is a slashing intrusion.

I am not a happy medium,

though I do doubt if such a thing exists.

I am an attention seeker

and when I am not I am an isolation monger.

The wavering nature of human interaction

is an uncertain sea for me, alternating downing me

or leaving me washed- up on some remote shore.

Even amid those I love the most,

I am a skinless writhing neonate,

hyper-reactive and living on the edge.

I somehow know the answer is self-esteem

or spiritual development,

but when in the midst of this imprudent reaction

the paths to these are lost.

I try to hold my breath when underwater,

when on the beach I try not to breathe the sand.

If I survive today I may grow out of this tomorrow.

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

More

April 6

MORE

Sometimes people get more than they can handle.  The evidence of this is their insanity or death.  God is not the actuary of heaven, managing tragedy the way my loan officer manages my debt load.  The victim blamers run to the ‘lack of faith’ accusation.  I have to keep my hands tightly on the wheel of life or risk strangling the parrots who chirp outlandish claims but try to make it sound like help.  I have to live with what I experience as real and be sober today.  I will have to leave the measure of ‘more’ to time out of mind.

Lift your feet and let the chaos pass underneath

*

Two Things That Should Be One

The difference between my will and God’s will

is that God actually likes me all the time,

never looks to punish and would rather

that I don’t settle for less than what is best for me.

The difference between God’s will and my will

Is that left to my own devices

I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough.

I would never ask for help

and would refuse if it were offered.

I would take on misguidedness as a mantle

and wear it to my wake.

Often my will and God’s will are miles apart,

but they needn’t be.

God is the president of my fan club;

I just need to start attending the meetings.

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