Spontaneous Willingness

November 3

SPONTANEOUS WILLINGNESS

At my local coffee-mart there is a strip of cellophane tape adhered to the mid of a Plexiglas panel built into the barrier where the line forms.  Only at a certain angle can this satin finish tape be seen.  When I first caught a glimpse of it I recognized others had stood there and responded to the sight of this strip by prying bits of the edge with fingernails; I was drawn to do the same.  I could not pull much up, but each time I stand there I work diligently for the moments it takes to make it to the head of the line and be on my way.  Unseen others pull fragments while I’m away.  Over time we will accomplish this task, unbidden, unknown to each other except through this common goal, spontaneous willingness to do what can be done.

Build a boat in your mind and push off.

*

MISS DIRECTED

I called and rambled at my sponsor.

After a significant time had passed,

she stopped me and asked with a tone in her voice,

“and why are you calling me?”

Startled, I replied, “for your advice!”

“Are you sure that’s why you called?

Because I can give you my advice,

but I have given advice to you before

and received only a severe case of the ‘Yeah, Buts’ in return.”

I was about to say ‘yeah, but you don’t understand’

when she cleared her throat to quiet me

and continued what she was saying.

“Seems to me you really want more than a sober ear,

you want magic.

You want me to take your crazy, dramatic thinking,

put it in a hat and pull it out formed, as all your dreams,

and then you want credit for making it happen.

But, Kitten, I have news for you,

I’m not Mr. Roark and this is not Fantasy Island.

This is sobriety and you can’t just have your way.”

This is when I realized I was on a dry drunk.

I don’t know what the first signs are,

but I do know when your sponsor asks,

“and you’re calling me, why?” the jig is up.

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

Comfort & Willingness

August 19

COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS

Closer than comfort is willingness.  Comfort is at the skin but willingness is under it. I can live without comfort but not without willingness.  Both are unseen but felt deeply.  Willingness drives to the destination and comfort settles me in once there.  Comfort is a gift like warmth; willingness is a gift like breath.  I have been tempted to let go of willingness to hold on to comfort.  True willingness brings true comfort; never the other way around.  No matter where I have to go, willingness will take me there; I hope comfort will follow.

Draw satisfaction on the wall of your brain.

*

Go Where it’s Warm

The intangible rightness of cohesion is difficult to explain.

What is it that makes a group congregating into a congregation?

What makes a rag tag tousle into a home group?

It is the thing I yearn for, but dare not chase.

I know this too makes a grub into a butterfly,

yet private transformation seems necessary,

where the change of masses is gratuitous.

A thousand geese fly overhead;

arrows of individual miracles,

pointing the way to the meaning of it all.

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

Anything is Possible

June 26

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

Just because the crows fly away when I arrive doesn’t mean they are afraid, but they might be.  The obvious answers are usually the correct ones; I must leave room for the unlikely answers, too.  Sometimes a spade is a shovel and a gofer is occasionally a retriever.  The world is a wonderful and fearful place where possibilities are endless if I am willing to allow the light to strike these sheltered doubts.  Any day, anywhere, an alcoholic can stay drunk or get sober.

Practice your game face so you don’t have to play a game.

*

Chock Full of Nuts

I am not a coffee maker.

I come from a long line of non-coffee drinkers

and I don’t drink it myself.

I made the coffee for my home group once

and was asked not to do it again.

This is when I realized my service talents

must lay elsewhere, and they do.

I am a good sponsor for those who want what I have

or at least want to attempt what I am trying to get toward.

I am a good representative.

I can carry the wishes of my group to the district.

I am learning to share my story and carry the message

and hope to do it well.

So, my question to you is

to what service do you most naturally bend?

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

Willing Piecrust

April 13

WILLING PIECRUST

I lay the crust of my will over the pie plate of God’s will for me.  I must have the willingness to trim off the excesses.  I hesitate; I worked hard to roll it out.  I know from past experience, when hot issues come up, these tags and hangings-on burn and drop sometimes ruining the flavor and appearance of the whole.  It is easier to cut loose the things outside God-given intent.  I get the pie in its entirety when I crimp and bend to the shape of my life.

Hope is free, so spread it around.

*

Chickens and Eggs

Who is more sober

the early riser or the long-timer?

How do we get here and what does it mean.

It all starts with a day, which is good

because this is more than we had hoped for,

sometimes more than we could do.

Then it moved into an ever escalating game

of can you beat this, each day an improvement

over what had been accomplished the day before.

For years the standard bearer is the pain or relief

of the very first in this string,

orbs of 24, yet here stands the question,

“Is the essence the last pearl you touch

or the total of the strand, which makes it real?”

I don’t know for sure.

Sobriety is like light;

is light made up of waves or is it made up of particles

and the answer is invariably yes, for it is.

And what you need and how you look at it

seems to make the determination,

scientific method or no

The watched is affected by the watcher and vice versa.

The end is a day round and imperfect as any

and what is strung between the beginning and the end

is what you’ve made of it.

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

Calibrate Coincidence

March 27

CALIBRATE COINCIDENCE

Do good.  Do right.  Line up with the next correct movement.  Get the universe locked into the sprockets of my desires and make the miracles flow in my direction.  Ah, the boy scout merit badge of sobriety.  I force spiritual alchemy through the pasta maker of my small life expecting gold.  And where is God?  Where is the realness of reality?  Where is my place in this hairy mess?  Well, who knows?  Am I the wizard?  The Chemist?  The mechanic of the galaxy?  Though I wish and hope, in truth, I am not the one who calibrates coincidence.  I am the receiver of.

Date your recovery.

*

Feelings/Facts

Delay is when I don’t deal with the tack,

don’t deal with the finish nail,

land up with a 12 penny in my heel

and think about waiting for the railroad spike.

Rebellion is when I run through the razor-wire fence

expecting to make a clean get away.

If I don’t socialize my problems when they are puppies

all hope is lost when faced with the big dogs.

Exiting out the fifth story window is suicide in fact,

but in my thinking I am merely rebelling.

Willingness and cooperation make a dynamic duo;

powerful combatants of delay, rebellion,

and many other joy killing, life stealing foes.

A life led with cooperation and willingness

is not necessarily perfection,

but it often feels that way.

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

Pictures and Frames

March 9

PICTURES AND FRAMES

I paint my way into the corners of the frame.  Each picture I fill diligently, color, texture, all the tricks I use.  I work hard to get the desired effect.  I hold nothing back; I put heart and hopes forward.  I load my brush with pigment; I propel my tongue out of my mouth.  I use it for balance like a kangaroo uses its tail.  Stroke after stroke, I layer the image.  My depiction is fresh to me.  I bring the green, the red, the blue, blue, blues; all of those flow from me.  The canvas fills; my soul soars through the tinctures.  Then the disappointment begins, the complaint and lamentations.  The perspective is off.  I can’t seem to contain this scene within the confines of this gilded prison.  I re-adjust.  I tilt my head; I paint from the bottom up, then the top down.  No, no.  I must pick up a new canvas, the frame oak, burnished and honeyed brown.  I cast to the side the gilt and sculptured casing; I lay it along the wall with the others, the many discards of life.  As yet, the obvious has escaped me; the tint, the hue, angle, size may diverge but that is all.  I have recreated the same scene in all the frames.  In all my attempts, I have painted only one picture.

Learn your process.

*

Résistance

Resisting tough love

is approaching long run action

with short run thinking.

I hate to set the toddling babe down lest he fall,

but in the end if I do not put him down

he and I will both be the worse for it.

Whether I see a forest or I see trees

depends so very much on my perspective,

also on my willingness to delay

the prevention of minor scrapes

to eliminate the need for permanent scaring.

The theme is greater personal responsibility

and less irrational fear.

Guarding tomorrow’s possibilities

by not hamstringing them today

through the resistance of tough love

saves lives, it saves mine.

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

Wanting

March 1

WANTING

“Wanting to be alive is not as important as wanting to do right," said my sponsor.

“I don’t want to be here," I half blurted, half sobbed.

“I know," came the reply.  “Many of us come in not wanting to live.”

“But sobriety is about living.”

“Yes, and you want to be sober,” said my sponsor.

“But I don’t want to live.”

“This moment.  This moment you don’t want to live but you still want to be sober.  You still want to do right.”

“Yes.”

“And that is what you’ll do.  You’ll pick up the tools as you have done so often and you will try everything suggested.  You’ll see how you feel tomorrow.”

“What if it doesn’t go away?”

“You’ll keep it up and see how you feel the next day.”

“What if I never feel better?”

“Ah, well.  When have you ever had anything that dependable?”

Don’t force joy to simmer let it boil over.

*

Van and I

(Happy cleaning windows)

When the fog clears and I still can’t see,

I check my optics and wash my windows.

The mundane upkeep hones my pursuit.

After the weather and housekeeping concerns

are managed, eye exercises are next on the agenda.

I have to strengthen my equipment,

stay fit or fall prey to vagaries

of nearsighted limits or farsighted failings.

Myopia is an ever present danger

I must guard against as well.

A fixed focus is a death trap.

I must learn to track a moving target

while I wend onward.

Nothing in life is stationary;

concentration and a decent line of sight

are priceless rudiments.

Continual practice with the tools and tactics

build my confidence and sharpen wit.

Burdens are lightened

when I see my goal in stark relief;

I can chart my path and make my way.

Sobriety means if I can see it I can believe it,

so I best go get the Windex.

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

Night Flight

February 13

NIGHT FLIGHT

The small log shape with large wings passed the windshield of my moving car without collision, due to meticulous calculation and correction in a night sky.  Silent passage… swift and meaningful, the owl lives as it knows how.  I was not born to the night; darkness not my given realm.  I have inverted my senses and compensated for the moonlight.  I pull my way through the air and hunt for my survival in a world of shadows.  The morsels caught on the wing, snatches of conversations and lines from books, sustain me, give me strength to live in spite of the nocturnal bondage.  I have made peace with the night.  I am changed by my living and my living endures.  The grace required to abide here is bestowed on me nightly.  I wear it though it is not the prize I sought.

Write a letter home to you.

*

Whittle it Down

A famous sculptor mentioned

that he doesn’t so much create the objects

as remove the stone which doesn’t belong.

I have had the same experience with willingness.

Encased in the bedrock of my will

willingness had no opportunity to open doors.

Flaking away the extraneous

the key shape appears, rugged, blockish, rudimental.

As the tears stream down my face

and wrong thinking flies from my brain

the key is more finely formed.

As I wheedle at misconception

and haul bodily wrong action

the teeth of this thing show sharp in this day’s sun.

Many doors stand ajar,

at first those with basic tumblers,

but now even those with encrypted defense

are no match for the willingness,

which I wield with rapier wit.

The obvious blocks to progress open to me

as well as the subtle doors to untold destination,

I am let out of danger, released into possibility.

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

No Jin

September 22

No Jin

I molested the touch control lamp.  I had no trouble turning it on, but could never figure how to turn it off; therefore I let the light shine in the daytime.  I called looking for guidance, “lick your fingers then try again,” was the glib suggestion.  I offered that I was not interested in becoming that intimate with said lamp.  Sometimes connections are made easily, other times they cannot be made at all; still there are times the renewal of a connection is determined by my willingness to up the ante.  Am I willing to put a little spit into the effort or will I leave the light to burn?

Invent small pleasures

*

WILLING PIECRUST

I lay the crust of my will over the pie plate of Gods’ will for me.

I must have the willingness to trim off the excess.

I hesitate--- I worked hard to roll it out.

I know from past experience when hot issues come up

These tags and hanging-ons burn and drop

Sometimes ruining the flavor and appearance of the whole.

It is easier to cut loose the things outside God-given intent.

I get the pie in its entirety when I crimp and bend

To the shape of my life.

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

Warhol Wouldn't Be

September 15

Warhol Wouldn’t Be

There is no trick to art.  If I work to make my pieces fit with the familiar I lose my individuality.  If I make what is truly me I fear there is no line in which to stand.  I must make the work, find the market, live life and die happy; all this with no map and a world filled with people who tell me what to do, but none who can guarantee the outcome.  My unwillingness to fight, to look at and feel the ugliness of life is at the core of my impediment. 

Except change then accept change

*

LINEAGE

People stand in the cue and I stare,

Lost in contemplation and compliance

I weigh the conflicts and complications.

Is this the method to clear identification?

I think I am better known for the lines I’ve crossed,

The times I press between warm souls

And force myself to the area beyond.

How can I wait my turn for generational stew

When the fruit trees bear life for those who break free

From ruts and rumbles to bite deeply the flesh of the future?

I can’t stand here though I love so many in this line.

I cannot love the line itself.

I must step through, breathe,

Stretch my legs and mind.

Take leave of grids and locks

Living a lonelier but healthier life

All caused by a change in direction.

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

Genius

September 7

Genius

I am often bonded to a self which thinks I know everything and when in doubt believes I should know even if I don’t.  Freeing me of this requires the constant support of friends and neighbors’ assuring me that in a capricious world willingness is a more practical resource; it packs neatly and handles most jobs with aplomb.  Staying consistently free from the bondage of self requires truckloads of willingness and the spirit of humility and sometimes even forgiveness.  I am freer when I like myself, for the true bondage of self is the hatred of self.

Acknowledge the marks left by the street you came from

*

YES---THAT TOO

When kindness becomes weakness,

When mental agility becomes emotional instability,

It’s time to reassess everything.

I cannot leave things off my inventory

Because my Grandma, society or the preacher says

It’s a good thing to be.

Every blessing can be a curse.

All my characteristics have their dark side.

I have to list the entirety of my cargo

And keep a watchful eye.

I have to moderate my investment

In all my abilities or lose myself.

Warmth is nice but I don’t want Death Valley.

Integrity requires balance

Or depraved indifference will be the outcome.

Weak or strong, right or wrong.

It all goes on the scale.

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

Dewy Cheatum & Howe

August 20

Dewy, Cheatum & Howe

I must radically sever the close connection I have with self-seeking, self-pity and dishonesty.  What will I use to pay the retainer for the representation I will need to pursue this divorce?  Willingness is the earnest money, which will start the ball rolling, hard work pitches in its share and faith pays the note each day I apply it.  All this and more is what it takes to divide the endless stream of my compulsive thought into a survivable days worth of life.  I have the prospect of being happy as a divorcee or I could be a miserable widow if I stay wed to my disease.

Try not to be the exception to everything

*

PROMISE BROKEN

If promise shatters without anyone touching it,

If it pops like a floating soap bubble that lost cohesion,

What do I do--name names--I can’t even take fingerprints.

Sometimes dreams just end--no fault or blame is attached.

The ice breaks under its own weight

And nothing can be done.

I am more than just holding on.

I am alive even if all the promises melt away.

I can accept the unexpected and unasked for.

I know this doesn’t affect my worth.

My value is intact regardless of disappointment or discontent.

I have learned that anticipation is mere amusement.

Promises are pleasantries

.

I am made of stronger stuff.

I am not broken by words, ideas or hope.

Promise can be broken

But it doesn’t break me.

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

Pick up your hammer and saw

August 9

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool.  I know this, yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.  I look into the well of my despair then quickly I look away, I fear informing G-d what I need lest the need be filled. I need to believe that a power will heal me, but if I am provided with the force of life, I shrink from the prospect.  This too, must be added to the list of my emotional woes and mental shortages.  This too, will be healed.  I look at my problems and then realize, that like the moon, who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore, solutions are installed in heaven and earth if I know what the problem is.

Experiment, start living a dream

*

COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS

Closer than comfort is willingness.

Comfort is at the skin

But willingness is under it.

I can live without comfort

But not without willingness

Both are unseen but felt deeply.

Willingness drives to the destination

And comfort settles me in once there.

Comfort is a gift like warmth,

Willingness is a gift like breath.

I have been tempted to let go of willingness

To hold onto comfort.

True willingness brings true comfort

Never the other way around.

No matter where I have to go

Willingness will take me there,

I hope comfort will follow.

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

Dear G-d

July 25

Dear G-d

I need help.  I need help availing myself of the help you have provided me.  I am embarrassed to lack the ability to complete all the steps necessary for achieving the goals you have set before me.  I see now that it is always my turn with you and I can stop standing aside believing that I have had your attention and must now do without.  I do not want to ask for more; I don’t want to seem greedy.  I forget that you know my heart and that you trust me.  I am going to make that a two-way street, maybe a four-lane highway.  I need help, thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie

The obvious is sometimes invisible

*

ACCESS

Writing to you my Sweet,

Allows me to give what I have available

At the moment it comes into my possession.

You reading lets you invite me in,

When you are ready or willing

Possibly both.

I can store succulent treasure for you

Without the least consideration of

Freezer burn or apathy.

You are here when I want you,

Yearning and prepared

I am yours for the taking

In the classroom, the bedroom

Or even in your bath

I can whisper or shout to you.

I can rant or tell jokes to you

You can embrace or ignore me

Introduce me to your friends

Or keep me your own personal province.

We are intimates

Because I bare my soul to you

And you take me into yours.

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

Whittle it Down

February 12

Whittle it Down

A famous sculptor mentioned that he doesn’t so much create the objects as remove the stone which doesn’t belong.  I have had the same experience with willingness.  Encased in the bedrock of my will willingness had no opportunity to open doors. Flaking away the extraneous the key shape appears, rugged, blockish, rudimental.  As the tears stream down my face and wrong thinking flies from my brain the key is more finely formed.  As I wheedle at misconception and haul bodily wrong action the teeth of this thing show sharp in this day’s sun.  Many doors stand ajar, at first those with basic tumblers, but now even those with encrypted defense are no match for the willingness, which I wield with rapier wit.  The obvious blocks to progress open to me as well as the subtle doors to untold destination, I am let out of danger, released into possibility.

Trace implication

*

NIGHT FLIGHT

The small log shape with wings
Passed the windshield of my moving car
Without collision.
Meticulous calculation and correction
In a night sky.

Silent passage
Swift and meaningful
The owl lives as it knows how.

I was not born to the night.
Darkness not my given realm.
I have inverted my senses and compensated
For the moonlight.

I pull my way through the air
And hunt for my survival
In a world of shadows.
The morsels caught on the wing.

Snatches of conversations
And lines from books sustain me.
Giving me strength to live
In spite of the nocturnal bondage.

I have made peace with the night.
I am changed by my living
And my living endures.

The grace required to abide here
Is bestowed on me nightly.
I wear it though it is not the prize I sought.

Know Enough to Clap

February 1

Know Enough to Clap

If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands, but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then?  Will my face display tell tale signs without whispering a word of it to my mind?  Will I whistle a happy tune therefore revealing my inner state?  If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist?  Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion condemn me to remedial society?  Is there any other society?  If I become well enough to reflexively feel and exhibit my mood will I graduate to the advanced class or be forever alone no longer having a place amid the emotional head bangers, hair twirlers and cobweb pickers?  Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation or confusion with a crowd?  Could I know?  Should I know?  Would I know?  Who knows?

Iron your will

*

THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.
No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly
In the end, if you don't land, it's a fall
And if you do, a flight.

How we begin seems of ultimate importance
But is seen as a farce in the face of ruin.
The most promising of starts can be sucked ground ward,
Compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through lack of humility.

Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal
Are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat.
Willingness is my aileron
It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain.

It smoothes the gusts of life which forever blow in my face
And willingness brings the ground up to meet me.
All I have to do is be willing
And stick out my feet.

Spontaneous Willingness

November 3

SPONTANEOUS WILLINGNESS

At my local coffee-mart there is a strip of cellophane tape adhered to the mid of a Plexiglas panel built into the barrier where the line forms.  Only at a certain angle can this satin finish tape be seen.  When I first caught a glimpse of it I recognized others had stood there and responded to the sight of this strip by prying bits of the edge with fingernails; I was drawn to do the same.  I could not pull much up, but each time I stand there I work diligently for the moments it takes to make it to the head of the line and be on my way.  Unseen others pull fragments while I’m away.  Over time we will accomplish this task, unbidden, unknown to each other except through this common goal, spontaneous willingness to do what can be done.

Build a boat in your mind and push off.

*

MISS DIRECTED

I called and rambled at my sponsor.

After a significant time had passed,

she stopped me and asked with a tone in her voice,

“and why are you calling me?”

Startled, I replied, “for your advice!”

“Are you sure that’s why you called?

Because I can give you my advice,

but I have given advice to you before

and received only a severe case of the ‘Yeah, Buts’ in return.”

I was about to say ‘yeah, but you don’t understand’

when she cleared her throat to quiet me

and continued what she was saying.

“Seems to me you really want more than a sober ear,

you want magic.

You want me to take your crazy, dramatic thinking,

put it in a hat and pull it out formed, as all your dreams,

and then you want credit for making it happen.

But, Kitten, I have news for you,

I’m not Mr. Roark and this is not Fantasy Island.

This is sobriety and you can’t just have your way.”

This is when I realized I was on a dry drunk.

I don’t know what the first signs are,

but I do know when your sponsor asks,

“and you’re calling me, why?” the jig is up.

Whining Brats

Sept 15

WHINING BRATS

Some days whining brats come at me from all directions and my hair won’t curl.  Apathy chases me around the house.  I wonder how it has more energy than I do.  My mind twists into a wrinkled mess; I drag my good foot and hop on the bad one. And even on those days I still rather be me; I never long to be the innocent victim or the spiritual leader, the tough guy or the PhD.  No matter how bad it gets or what the struggle is, there is no place sweeter than in my head.  Many are the days when I wished not to exist, not at all, but never to shuck my skin for the skin of another.  Now that I manage, breathe right and face each day with cheer I know it was almost worth it and might be worth it yet.

Write your name on a piece of paper and slip it into your pocket.

*

Warhol Wouldn’t Be

There is no trick to art.

If I work to make my pieces fit with the familiar

I lose my individuality.

If I make what is truly me

I fear there is no line in which to stand.

I must make the work, find the market,

live life and die happy;

All this with no map

and a world filled with people

who tell me what to do,

but none who can guarantee the outcome.

My unwillingness to fight,

to look at and feel the ugliness of life

is at the core of my impediment.

Campaign

August 24

CAMPAIGN

Sobriety is the Santa Claus, bringing delightful gifts, which make me smile.  Recovery is the Genie, which comes from staying out of bottles.  This Jin makes treasure possible but doesn’t bring it to my door.  The ads and billboards of illusion built a world of booze but no hope for a real life.  I have learned to turn from all the lies of picking up, and live in the possibilities, which open only when I put down the drinking and the thinking.  I don’t need to pin up stockings or rub lamps, just take direction and make willingness my campaign.

Store thoughts, plant seeds.

*

Just Say NO to Bushel Baskets

Spending my life under a bushel basket

kept me from realizing who I am.

I thought because of the close quarters

I knew myself better than those free

to explore the world, yet, alas, no.

I am unaware of the world outside and inside the bin;

this woven covering served to sever

all true communications.

Even in places where my candle burned through,

it couldn’t allow sufficient light, in or out,

for as much as an SOS or a night light.

Here I am, not knowing my abilities…

my possibilities…. or my worth

and there is the world standing,

a startled stranger from me,

for I only know it as the circle

around my feet and nothing more.

Comfort and Willingness

August 19

COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS

Closer than comfort is willingness.  Comfort is at the skin but willingness is under it. I can live without comfort but not without willingness.  Both are unseen but felt deeply.  Willingness drives to the destination and comfort settles me in once there.  Comfort is a gift like warmth; willingness is a gift like breath.  I have been tempted to let go of willingness to hold on to comfort.  True willingness brings true comfort; never the other way around.  No matter where I have to go, willingness will take me there; I hope comfort will follow.

Draw satisfaction on the wall of your brain.

*

Go Where it’s Warm

The intangible rightness of cohesion is difficult to explain.

What is it that makes a group congregating into a congregation?

What makes a rag tag tousle into a home group?

It is the thing I yearn for, but dare not chase.

I know this too makes a grub into a butterfly,

yet private transformation seems necessary,

where the change of masses is gratuitous.

A thousand geese fly overhead;

arrows of individual miracles,

pointing the way to the meaning of it all.