Three Toys Floating

November 14

THREE TOYS FLOATING

I bat the ducks across the surface of my bath.  Soaking is supposed to calm me.  I’m waiting.  I assure you my impatience is no help to this process.  These yellow, tub-bound misfits grinning at me don’t fill me with the joy of living, either.  I have blown bubbles until I’m blue.  I smell like a French elevator from the bath oils.  My hair is stiff with conditioner; my face packed with mud.  “Do the right thing," said my sponsor.  She is such a pain.  Here I am bubble bath to my armpits, and not a hint of peace.  Her question rings, “What do you want?”  But isn’t it obvious?  If I knew that, what would I be doing wrinkling in this swilling vat?  I wouldn’t.  I would be out doing my ‘thing’, whatever that ‘thing’ is.  How I’m going to figure myself out I don’t know.  And ‘she’ is no help, (you know who ‘she’ is, she the sponsor lady) 

So what do I want?

World peace.       A clue.        Maybe just a hint.

But I know part of it.  I know more than I admit.

I want sobriety and happiness, dignity and respect, enough time to do these things, and love.

“Well," says she, “those things are easy.  Work the steps, then the traditions; practice them, do service, and take the advice you give to your own sponsees.”

I stick out my tongue in her general direction.

Creep toward the unknown.

*

Surfs Up

The first time I arrive at the beach the tide is a shock to me.

I had no way to anticipate it.

As the days pass I calm, realizing there is a rhythm

and that the sea won’t escape the shore.

Over time I begin to anticipate the movement

and then rely on it.

I learn to live with the in and out nature of the water

lapping the lip of sand;

What it brings and what it takes away.

I am human, I adapt, I survive.

How do I make the jump to blessing the moon?

How do I touch the divine?

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

All Better Now

May 17

ALL BETTER NOW

Mother kissed the booboo and I wait for the admonition to take effect.  Waiting, I count the problems like telephone poles on a long journey.  What will it be like, the world all better?  The anticipation nearly breaks me for a while until waiting turns to disbelief.  A chill fills the space and 'all better' becomes the cry.  My sponsor calls for moderation and lowering my expectation.  The child’s ears ring with the promise to be fulfilled.  She can not give herself over to a world where a Band-Aid is not a cure-all but only a cover for the slow work of internal healing, scars and all.  Sheer survival is not sufficient for the screaming toddler; heartbreak from injustice calls for more than endurance.  But, alas, a kiss is all we have.

Time pulls the tide and the tide pulls you; let it.

*

Who Rang?

Examine the instillation of your buttons

as a process of discovery for disabling them.

Pay attention to the wiring but also to the hardware.

Sometimes the advertising is the thing

which keeps alive something better off put to rest.

Many things are rooted in other pots

and have a lifeline from outside of the current host.

All the connections and housing should be explored

as well as what work the mechanism does once pressed.

Is there a gong, tinkling bells?

Does it release the wolves from their den or tiger from his lair?

Information is a tool which never fails to help me

in disassembling the traps and their triggers

I must not shy from the gathering.

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

Surf's Up

November 16

Surfs Up

The first time I arrive at the beach the tide is a shock to me.  I had no way to anticipate it.  As the days pass I calm, realizing there is a rhythm and that the sea won’t escape the shore.  Over time I begin to anticipate the movement and then rely on it.  I learn to live with the in and out nature of the water lapping the lip of sand; what it brings and what it takes away.  I am human.  I adapt.  I survive.  How do I make the jump to blessing the moon?  How do I touch the divine?

Forgive your common errors, make note of the uncommon

*

ENDLESS PASTA

Having limits, in a seemingly limitless universe,
makes me feel horribly inadequate.
I am a sad little creature
in the face of overwhelming tasks.

Pressure and unwarranted ego
compress my ability and eager disposition.
I am forced to see there are choices
outside my qualifications and willingness.

Going on in the face of crushing requirements
extrudes my life force into a plateful of capellini
Lying exposed with no gravy to keep me warm
it is hard to realize in this world of wonder and delight
a plate of naked spaghetti can’t do it all.

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

The Tide in Texas

June 24

The Tide in Texas

I cannot tell you of my pain, how the liars took me off my land, how my heart lay shattered all around, how I’m so foolish and left in town.  I cannot show you the big red ball, which to me is a shame or how it bobs and sways or how the tail of it hangs out of reach and taunts me all the day.  But growing up to face the facts and finding my strong legs has put me to another tact and sucks the mud away.  Sharing my disappointment and my grief is like adding ballast to the boats.  It lifts us all instead of sinking me.  Not much of a price to pay.

Cruise your assets

*

RENTING JOY

I cannot buy happiness

No matter how much money I spend,

No matter how hard I work,

I can never pay bliss off on layaway.

The angles of escape for glee are phenomenal

I see runaway emotions and concede ownership

When opportunities arise for satisfaction

I pay the fare and take the trip.

The boat isn’t mine to keep

But the tour is forever in my heart.

I can’t take it home and bury it in the yard

I need to enjoy each measure while the music plays.

I remunerate for time in proximity

Delight arrives and stays as long as it likes

I linger at the table and enjoy my desert

Leasing elation is an occasion of celebration.

Living moment to moment

Has given me this chance

So I take it.

Three Toys Floating

November 14

THREE TOYS FLOATING

I bat the ducks across the surface of my bath.  Soaking is supposed to calm me.  I’m waiting.  I assure you my impatience is no help to this process.  These yellow, tub-bound misfits grinning at me don’t fill me with the joy of living, either.  I have blown bubbles until I’m blue.  I smell like a French elevator from the bath oils.  My hair is stiff with conditioner; my face packed with mud.  “Do the right thing," said my sponsor.  She is such a pain.  Here I am, bubble bath to my armpits, and not a hint of peace.  Her question rings,  “What do you want?”  But isn’t it obvious?  If I knew that, what would I be doing wrinkling in this swilling vat?  I wouldn’t.  I would be out doing my ‘thing’, whatever that ‘thing’ is.  How I’m going to figure myself out I don’t know.  And ‘she’ is no help, (you know who ‘she’ is, she the sponsor lady) 

So what do I want?

World peace.       A clue.        Maybe just a hint.

But I know part of it.  I know more than I admit.

I want sobriety and happiness, dignity and respect, enough time to do these things, and love.

“Well," says she, “those things are easy.  Work the steps, then the traditions; practice them, do service, and take the advice you give to your own sponsees.”

I stick out my tongue in her general direction.

Creep toward the unknown.

*

Surfs Up

The first time I arrive at the beach the tide is a shock to me.

I had no way to anticipate it.

As the days pass I calm, realizing there is a rhythm

and that the sea won’t escape the shore.

Over time I begin to anticipate the movement

and then rely on it.

I learn to live with the in and out nature of the water

lapping the lip of sand;

What it brings and what it takes away.

I am human, I adapt, I survive.

How do I make the jump to blessing the moon?

How do I touch the divine?

All Better Now

May 17

ALL BETTER NOW


Mother kissed the booboo and I wait for the admonition to take effect. Waiting, I count the problems like telephone poles on a long journey. What will it be like, the world all better? The anticipation nearly breaks me for awhile until waiting turns to disbelief. A chill fills the space and 'all better' becomes the cry. My sponsor calls for moderation and lowering my expectation. The child’s ears ring with the promise to be fulfilled. She can not give herself over to a world where a Band-Aid is not a cure-all but only a cover for the slow work of internal healing, scars and all. Sheer survival is not sufficient for the screaming toddler; heartbreak from injustice calls for more than endurance. But, alas, a kiss is all we have.


Time pulls the tide and the tide pulls you; let it.