Malaria

March 18

Malaria

Flailing, reaching, screaming; hiding, avoiding, misdirecting, theses are subsets in a list of extremes whose commonality is lacking, lacking humility.  I fall to pieces just thinking of standing exposed, imperfect and unprotected.  I’m not sure what I think will happen to me in this posture; instantaneous death? Couldn’t be, I’m not that lucky, nor am I foolish enough to think that I am that lucky.  Possibly, I fear rancorous humiliation, but really who is powerful enough to do that to me?  I know and like myself well enough to deflect obvious flying nonsense, so what is it that I do flee?  I think it is the endless grinding inelegance of life, the stinging nettled nature of things, my inability to weave my way around my weakness and slip into the open unpoisoned.  I fear exchanging peace for failure.  Humility is when I know I cannot fail.                                       

Be conscience of judgment and try not to react to it

*

WET BLANKET

I have carried this sodden thing with me all my life.
It's weight a burden for numerous years,
I have never been able to explain my continuing drag of this pitiful thing
Though it has been commented on by many.

My fidelity is boundless
In spite of inner questions and doubts.
Now that the fire is here I am glad to have it.
I pull it over me and step into the fray.

Thick and moist, I somehow struggle under its influence
And am able to do what others, bare of my encumbrance, cannot
I don't believe I can quench all the flames but I hope to help some to safety
And bat down the encroaching inferno a bit.

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

Wet Blanket

March 19

WET BLANKET

I have carried this sodden thing with me all my life, its weight a burden for numerous years.  I have never been able to explain my continuing drag of this pitiful thing.  Though it has been commented on by many, my fidelity is boundless.  In spite of inner questions and doubts, now that the fire is here, I am glad to have it.  I pull it over me and step into the fray.  Thick and moist, I somehow struggle under its influence and am able to do what others, bare of my encumbrance, cannot.  I don’t believe I can quench all the flames, but I hope to help some to safety and bat down the encroaching inferno a bit.

Acknowledge the upswings in your value.

*

Bent, Spindled, Mutilated

Injury changes memory,

not just the memory of the individual trauma,

but the very nature of the mind.

The hooks and loops distort

and I can’t hold on as I once did.

The misses and disconnects become more frequent,

then they become expected.

Emotional fluff-ups do not suffice,

the hardware is damaged

and a positive attitude is advisable

but the pliers are a necessity.

Some things are easier to break than to repair,

in fact most things are easier to break, no skill required,

though some take it on as skill,

Most destruction is ignorant or accidental,

nothing personal just a part of a pain filled landscape.

Direct intervention is not the same as hands-free degradation,

though both have their cost.

Redemption, restoration, is sought from all comers.

Possibilities and probabilities stack;

action is a relief, whether or not it is a fix.

I take a breath to face the final blow,

for when the cost adds up

and I look for recompense

all I hear is the check is in the mail

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

Malaria

March 18

Malaria

Flailing, reaching, screaming; hiding, avoiding, misdirecting, theses are subsets in a list of extremes whose commonality is lacking, lacking humility.  I fall to pieces just thinking of standing exposed, imperfect and unprotected.  I’m not sure what I think will happen to me in this posture; instantaneous death? Couldn’t be, I’m not that lucky, nor am I foolish enough to think that I am that lucky.  Possibly, I fear rancorous humiliation, but really who is powerful enough to do that to me?  I know and like myself well enough to deflect obvious flying nonsense, so what is it that I do flee?  I think it is the endless grinding inelegance of life, the stinging nettled nature of things, my inability to weave my way around my weakness and slip into the open unpoisoned.  I fear exchanging peace for failure.  Humility is when I know I cannot fail.                                       

Be conscience of judgment and try not to react to it

*

WET BLANKET

I have carried this sodden thing with me all my life.
It's weight a burden for numerous years,
I have never been able to explain my continuing drag of this pitiful thing
Though it has been commented on by many.

My fidelity is boundless
In spite of inner questions and doubts.
Now that the fire is here I am glad to have it.
I pull it over me and step into the fray.

Thick and moist, I somehow struggle under its influence
And am able to do what others, bare of my encumbrance, cannot
I don't believe I can quench all the flames but I hope to help some to safety
And bat down the encroaching inferno a bit.

Wet Blanket

March 19

WET BLANKET

I have carried this sodden thing with me all my life, its weight a burden for numerous years. I have never been able to explain my continuing drag of this pitiful thing. Though it has been commented on by many, my fidelity is boundless. In spite of inner questions and doubts, now that the fire is here, I am glad to have it. I pull it over me and step into the fray. Thick and moist, I somehow struggle under its influence and am able to do what others, bare of my encumbrance, cannot. I don’t believe I can quench all the flames, but I hope to help some to safety and bat down the encroaching inferno a bit.

Acknowledge the upswings in your value.

*

Bent, Spindled, Mutilated

Injury changes memory,

not just the memory of the individual trauma,

but the very nature of the mind.

The hooks and loops distort

and I can’t hold on as I once did.

The misses and disconnects become more frequent,

then they become expected.

Emotional fluff-ups do not suffice,

the hardware is damaged

and a positive attitude is advisable

but the pliers are a necessity.

Some things are easier to break than to repair,

in fact most things are easier to break, no skill required,

though some take it on as skill,

Most destruction is ignorant or accidental,

nothing personal just a part of a pain filled landscape.

Direct intervention is not the same as hands-free degradation,

though both have their cost.

Redemption, restoration, is sought from all comers.

Possibilities and probabilities stack;

action is a relief, whether or not it is a fix.

I take a breath to face the final blow,

for when the cost adds up

and I look for recompense

all I hear is the check is in the mail