Marmalade

October 19

MARMALADE

Marmalade, bitter and sweet, spread across my spiritual toast; zest and sticky solution mix and cover the surface.  I bite down taking in the start of my day.  Past this point anything is possible, fame or disaster, a dreary fog-filled morning or cloudless afternoon.  Seeing the passing populous, I alternately advance and retreat from this human wall.  Response and responsibility tattletale their way to my reactionary will.  The tightrope sways over river of potential; balance is more than a desire, it is a necessity.  So I enjoy my breakfast tea and watch the marmalade melt as I dip my bread in my well-steeped brew.  The parade will start soon enough; I need this time before I launch into the fray.

Start a fire in your mind.

*

Self Importance

When I am over sensitive and everything

that everyone does looms large for me,

I am more likely to think

that I am a driving force in the lives of others.

It’s a funny connection in the same way

that when I scratch the dogs tummy her foot paddles;

when I am not getting my needs met

I tend to believe I am in this world

to meet the needs of others.

Often when in this mindset I also delude myself further

to worry that I may be the only person

who can help these other people.

I have been training myself to throw a flag

on any and all plays where I am that important.

I try to bring all action to a stop

and get right sized about who I am

and how important I am and to whom and why.

It’s not that I don’t have value,

I have the same value as everyone else,

but when I shortchange my needs and my feelings,

over responsibility to others mushrooms

and this is not good for anyone; me least of all.

As with most things,

if I find out what is right for me

it tends to be right for those around me,

even if I can’t see that at the time.

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

My Heroine

October 18

MY HEROINE

The corpse that is my childhood is mine to protect from the wolves and rats of denial and collusion.  The infant who commits suicide in self-defense is my heroine.  The pure thinking of an uncluttered mind seizes on the only possible way for me to survive.  Her death at her own hand is my rescue.  If the bad had killed her I would have died with her.  In her plan, I was left as the seed she ejected in her assent.  She is gone from this place; I feel her only as the wisp of memory.  The tiny body laid flat on the carpet, her pressed pinafore somehow more alive than she, is the unfinished business of prevention.  As long as I see her there and do not walk away from my responsibility and never forget she protected me with the life she never lived, I am free to live this life.

Throw ice cubes up for God to catch.

*

Earl Grey is not my Friend

Scabby knees is what I look for;

I need to be with those who climb,

not those who slide.

I hate to say it, but looking cool

and sitting on the sidelines

does nothing for me or my sobriety.

I have to build those calluses,

require patches in my clothes,

carry a hammer to pound in those spikes.

If I don’t see tools in your hands

and bodily evidence that you have been using them,

I really don’t have time for you.

This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me

and if it isn’t for you then have fun

and I hope you have a good seat,

but I am not staying for your tea party;

I have no time for tarts.

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

Rock Bottom Prices

January 19

ROCK BOTTOM PRICES

Marble topped dressers, dry sinks and wardrobes, standing in the auctioneer’s warehouse, show loving use and obvious value.  The hungry consumers peruse the merchandise looking for the perfect piece to fit their need.  Old men eating ice cream sandwiches pick their way through the rows of tidbits laid out on the lawn, bargains to fill in odd spaces and little desires.  So like our meeting places, where people try to refurnish their lives.  The cost to arrive may have been high, but once in the market is more than fair.  We reclaim relics and we use them as road signs and warnings.  There is always someone around to carry large truths home and no one has to go away empty handed.  We bid on our own survival by buying someone else a break.  Time passes easily, as the one at the podium recounts the rock bottom prices.

Curl up inside the nautilus of your mind and take a nap.

*

Tea or Sympathy

Tears pouring into the teacup

growing cold on the table

create a sea of emotions uncharted.

If I cannot offer sympathy to the contents,

the soulless heel that I am,

how then do I expect to have a future?

If I will tender only meager tolerance

toward the spindled thing

valiantly trying to beat within me

why do I even show my face to the mirror?

If shoulders are cold and turned inward

then I will collapse into the inexpressive,

dismal thing that has been misshapen

through misuse.

I might as well drink the chilly tea

for that is all the comfort I will get.

I must do better by myself

in order to brew a better world.

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

What is a Sheep to Do?

January 19

What Is A Sheep To Do?

Things are bad out there.  I see the trouble as I circle within the flock.  Many of us whisper to each other as we pass.  How can I create lasting change?  Is there something helpful that will not separate me from my precious life, something that will not make me prey to the vultures before I even realize that I’m dead?  How can I live and strive while the wolves hold the hilltops?  Is the choice merely, one death or the other?  Is there an as yet unseen path?  Can I find it while maintaining my place in this congregation?  What is a sheep to do?

Topple the toys from their bins and play

.

Tea or Sympathy

Tears pouring into the teacup growing cold on the table create a sea of emotions uncharted.  If I can not offer sympathy to the contents, the soulless heel that I am, how then do I expect to have a future?  If I will tender only meager tolerance toward the spindled thing valiantly trying to beat within me why do I even show my face to the mirror?  If shoulders are cold and turned inward then I will collapse into the inexpressive, dismal thing that has been misshapen through misuse and I might as well drink the chilly tea for that’s all the comfort I’ll get.  I must do better by myself in order to brew a better world.

Smooth one hand with the other.

*

SOD

Green and black
Pinwheels of rolled grass
Speed by me on a flat bed.

Sod
Headed for home
That is how it is for me.

I grew up in a place of impermanence
A place clearly not my destination
Uprooted and prepared for relocation I am in transition.

My future surroundings unknown
Will be a perfect fit.
I have been anticipated
Grown for a purpose of which I am uninformed.


I have done my part, I am ready to lay down my roots
And become a lawn of seamless expanse
Somewhere my Higher Power is grading a hill
Smoothing the way.

I am ready to take my place
In the landscape
Of sober living and right thinking.

Rank

April 20

RANK

I took an area level service position and my sponsor laughed herself off her chair.

“What is your motivation for this?” she asked.

“I want to move up through the service structure,” my reply.

“Are you trying to make rank?”

“Problem with that?" I ask.

“Ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecy? You will become what you desire. You will become rank and you will stink. The triangle is inverted to help you clean up your act. Don’t get washed away in a tide of ego.”

I put down my swim fins and removed my epaulets.

Listen intently enough to hear the music of the planets spinning in your mind.

*

Bummed

I accept change

like coins slipped into a cup

that sits beside me on the curb.

Never did it occur to me

that I look in need of pity

or alms from strangers;

Which is to say

I don’t accept much these days,

yet I do not fight it either.

I keep my head down

when I can no longer fend off the inevitable.

I may not win control or compliance,

Might not remain strong enough to fight another day,

but this too is a blessing somehow.

A laying down of arms.

Money in my pocket

makes the world a funny place to endure

when I’m living in the tiny room in my head.

What good news it would be

if I learned to throw the windows open

and let the day take me.

This time it’s God

that needs to wear the ear muffs

and lead me through the coldness of change.

On my own I just walk farther

down the blind alleys

and fold myself on this sidewalk in exhaustion.

I don’t like the tea or the sympathy,

but I don’t think I would mind if God took me in.

Rock Bottom Prices

January 19

ROCK BOTTOM PRICES

Marble topped dressers, dry sinks and wardrobes, standing in the auctioneer’s warehouse, show loving use and obvious value. The hungry consumers peruse the merchandise looking for the perfect piece to fit their need. Old men eating ice cream sandwiches pick their way through the rows of tidbits laid out on the lawn, bargains to fill in odd spaces and little desires. So like our meeting places, where people try to refurnish their lives. The cost to arrive may have been high, but ones in the market is more than fair. We reclaim relics and we use them as road signs and warnings. There is always someone around to carry large truths home and no one has to go away empty handed. We bid on our own survival by buying someone else a break. Time passes easily, as the one at the podium recounts the rock bottom prices.

Curl up inside the nautilus of your mind and take a nap.

*

Tea or Sympathy

Tears pouring into the teacup

growing cold on the table

create a sea of emotions uncharted.

If I cannot offer sympathy to the contents,

the soulless heel that I am,

how then do I expect to have a future?

If I will tender only meager tolerance

toward the spindled thing

valiantly trying to beat within me

why do I even show my face to the mirror?

If shoulders are cold and turned inward

then I will collapse into the inexpressive,

dismal thing that has been misshapen

through misuse.

I might as well drink the chilly tea

for that is all the comfort I will get.

I must do better by myself

in order to brew a better world.

Earl Grey is not my Friend

October 19

Earl Grey is not my Friend

Scabby knees is what I look for; I need to be with those who climb, not those who slide. I hate to say it, but looking cool and sitting on the sidelines does nothing for me or my sobriety. I have to build those calluses, require patches in my clothes, carry a hammer to pound in those spikes. If I don’t see tools in your hands and bodily evidence that you have been using them, I really don’t have time for you. This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me and if it isn’t for you then have fun and I hope you have a good seat, but I am not staying for your tea party; I have no time for tarts.

Explain the difference between a rabbit and a bunny

*

SLOTH TOES

A sloth is known by the number of its toes
Not its name or love of art or music.
The oddest attributes draw attention and acclaim
From scorekeepers and flag-wavers of the world.

Going my way in this life I am seen by clock-watchers
As timeless and by trumpeters as soundless.
I am not defined by these.

The number of my toes or the time I keep
Or the sound I make is more than who I am.
An explanation of me will not fit on an index card
Or nameplate or job title.

As long as I stay clear of these traps
And classifications I am safe.
If I buy in or fall down
My sum and total will neatly fit on a toe tag.