The Slick Nature of Grace

August 29

The Slick Nature of Grace

The higher I climb, the more severe the fall; the sweeter my life, the more brittle my blood sugar.  I must be more careful as I get better.  I thought being sober would make my life free from care, but I think it is a freedom from fretting that might be more accurate.  I must still climb and take in all the sweetness which comes my way, but always I must vigilantly keep my balance.  Hold on tighter; eat more protein.  Grace is a glorious thing and I am the consecrated recipient who knows the slickness of the slopes and the cunning of the glucose.  Daring to be sober is an athletic endeavor I must tighten my cleats and sharpen my sweet tooth.

Check your motives against something fixed, then against something in motion

*

WILL YOU GET TO THE OTHER SIDE

Chickens stand together on the edge of the road

Pecking and scratching

People make fun.

People tell jokes

But it’s not so funny when we are the ones

Playing on the tracks.

We forget that all the excuses about

Longing for excitement and

Not wanting to be cut off from the world

Sound like so much cackling

To the ears of people who value their lives.

Life in the pasture or the backyard

Is fulfilling if you want it.

That kind of life is no adrenaline rush

But then again isn’t adrenaline just another drug.

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

In the Comfort of My Room

January 17

IN THE COMFORT OF MY ROOM

I sit and panic concerning the future. I have come through hell, built a safe and satisfying life, but it will all end soon. I can feel it. The tide rises in my soul, the blood red tide of self-doubt and degradation. I fail to see my strength, or intelligence. Hell, I can’t even remember the sheer willingness, which has carried me this far. All I see are shreds, tattered little bits of my hopes and dreams, scattered by the breeze of fate.

What is the point of me being in this sweet space if I’m going to intellectually turn it to a dungeon? Why set out fluffy pillows only to frighten myself daily with thoughts of their removal? How can I pray for safety and practice personal terrorism? With an open mind? No! My mind is closed to the double side of life. I know the destruction but forget the glory. I have washed ashore in the land of love and support. I need not drag my mind and spirit to the nether world of hopelessness. I’ve been to the dark places. My task is to warm in the sunlit today.

Make an anagram of your name, which empowers you.

*

Hades

There is strangeness to the dark.

A velvety comfort

when my paranoia is not alive

with ice crystals and contempt.

Cocoons of light create hives of life

in an otherwise isolating phenomena.

Pressing to my skin I can wear the night out

as a jewel, a talisman for the hope I dare not share.

Pixies and faeries inhabit dawn’s wee hours

but the black blank stretch of space

is home to things quite different.

Unspeakable in their face I allow them to pass.

Should I be carried off my return is eminent

for half the seeds remain.

Not wholly ransomed I live only part time in the sun.

When the shadows fall there is the oddness of home

I can neither embrace nor deny.