Arabian Days

April 7

ARABIAN DAYS

There are days I feel like Scheherazade and could spin a thousand tales. Other days I feel my brain grab for its satchel and exit my ear. I find it hard to be a hospitable host to all of me, but when I stretch or strain my elbow or knee I think, “oh well, they go out, they go out,” but if my brain runs off and leaves me I am in a serious mess. I try to be a lover of my mind for when I don’t I grow small in my heart. I scent the mental bath water and light the little lights; I sing sweet songs. I wait for response. I smile broadly to hear the quick report of Rimsky-Korsakov.

Don’t transpose your feelings.

*

Out on Your Front Porch

“If you want what we have,” said my sponsor,

“you will have to follow somebody

and lead somebody and do a few other things.”

“I have to follow somebody,

that shouldn’t be too hard,” I mumble.

“In order to follow it helps if you stop looking at the ground,

lift you gaze,” her retort.

I raised my chin until I met her eyes. “Better,” said she.

“I follow you?” I ask.

“Me, yes, if I have what you want,

follow others if I don’t,” she said.

“Okay and lead somebody, how do I do that?” I ask.

“It’s attraction, Sweetie, be attractive,

show your smile and your smarts,

But most of all show that you’re sober,

because that is always your best asset.

And no matter what anybody tells you

about the allure of bad girls,

nobody can resist a good set of assets”

More

April 6

MORE

Sometimes people get more than they can handle. The evidence of this is their insanity or death. God is not the actuary of heaven, managing tragedy the way my loan officer manages my debt load. The victim blamers run to the ‘lack of faith’ accusation. I have to keep my hands tightly on the wheel of life or risk strangling the parrots who chirp outlandish claims but tries to make it sound like help. I have to live with what I experience as real and be sober today. I will have to leave the measure of ‘more’ to time out of mind.

Lift your feet and let the chaos pass underneath

*

Two Things That Should Be One

The difference between my will and God’s will

is that God actually likes me all the time,

never looks to punish and would rather

that I don’t settle for less than what is best for me.

The difference between God’s will and my will

Is that left to my own devices

I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough.

I would never ask for help

and would refuse if it were offered.

I would take on misguidedness as a mantle

and wear it to my wake.

Often my will and God’s will are miles apart,

but they needn’t be.

God is the president of my fan club;

I just need to start attending the meetings.

Stop Talking

April 5

STOP TALKING

“Try to stop talking when people stop listening,” said my sponsor. “And try not to take it personally.”

“Why is that?” I query.

“Most individuals can’t handle much of anything real. Try as they may, they are unable to listen to anyone speaking the truth. Tell them a story; you can hold their attention all day. Sprinkle bits of honesty into the tale and you still will keep your audience. But strafe them with bullets of the truth and they will run for cover.”

“I’ve seen it happen. I never knew what made them scurry, but I have seen them sprint away.”

“It’s a coping mechanism. If you try to turn their heart too quickly, they’re afraid it will stop beating.”

“Why is it you never worry about that with me? You tell me the facts whether I want to hear it or not.”

“I can tell you because you take step 3.”

Color a page using only three crayons.

*

Fearing Fearlessness

How many times

have I given the credit to night blind fear,

credit due the brave persistent child?

How many times

have I blamed the willing diligent pursuer

when the fault was the backstabbing delay of mistrust?

I resist the onset of freedom.

Fear was my oldest familiar

and I put from my mind that it was my jailer, captor;

Kidnapped me from my cradle

and kept me locked from God’s fine intentions.

Fearlessness sounds debilitating to my crippled ears,

Organs who hear well the disclaimers

and are deaf to the claims.

I am the producer of bile and addicted to dread,

Endorphins wear white hats

and win the day

once this yellow belly is put to bed.

The Sculptor

April 4

THE SCULPTOR

I'm stuck in a block; my sponsor chips away at me. I struggle to hold still. With surgical precision, she cuts through the debris with which I have surrounded myself. After my sponsor frees my hand and arm, she places a hammer in my open fingers. When the other arm and hand are rescued, she places a chisel in that hand. This is how, before my head showed above the surface, I began to help in my own restoration. I am the sculptor the program has made me. Recovery has taught me I can be anything if I keep chipping away at the things that hold me hostage. As time travels on, I am a new shape with each turn through the steps and have an ever-lustrous finish with every application of the traditions.

Everything has its own intelligence and you do, too.

*

Please Sir

Gratitude is a thing which collects and solidifies,

it’s pink and I can walk around on it.

Some days it is a broad highway

and other times a winding spindling track.

Ever present if I am mindful

gratitude roots out pests and pestilence

while planting a garden beyond my dreams.

Gratitude is like handholding

it warms and strengthens me, k

keeps me connected to real life

and reassures me that I am not alone.

Many days I find a way to make a face and pout,

plundering the rich rewards of sobriety

for the thin gruel of discontent,

Poke me with a stick on these days

and remind me who I am,

for I am never Oliver even if I feel a little twist.

Acceptance, Action, Change

April 3

ACCEPTANCE, ACTION, CHANGE

Acceptance equals action. Without action, acceptance is a death sentence. Action puts me in the hands of my Higher Power; inaction puts me at the mercy of others, or worse, self-justification. For acceptance to glow with life, it must be moving.

Action equals change. Action without change is repetition. The moon does not change. It orbits flat on its face, forever dark on one side and a mere reflection on the other. Change sparks possibilities in mundane endeavor.

Change equals acceptance. Change without acceptance is a walk off a cliff. For change to endure, agreement is necessary. A one-sided argument is fascism and fraudulence. The heart of change is acceptance, beating the blood of hope to the extremities. Whether we circle the heavens or the bowl depends on the cohesion of acceptance, action and change.

Listen to new music, sing old music.

*

Give Me a Goose Any Day

The geese breaking wind resistance,

the close ones,

the far ones,

the ones behind trumpeting

this is the gang who gets me sober

and keeps me that way.

Maybe you think that God is not a flock of geese,

but it has been my experience

and the honking and the mess are part of it all.

I spend my days making sure I am one of them.

Sometimes I am even in the lead,

which may seem like a place of honor and prestige,

but is actually a lot of hard work.

Sometime I am the cheering squawker

who makes my encouragement heard.

Other times I am the one waddling around

leaving an untidiness behind me.

All of this just makes me part of the flock.

I am especially fond of my nest mates

though they are often the ones I chase

and bluster at the most.

I feel a sense of identity and pride

when I see any goose flying high

and I know that because we don’t do it alone

we are able to do it together.

Paduans

April 2

PADUANS

The pussy willows bloom looking much like crested poultry. The coldest part of my heart is fighting to thaw in this early spring. Weather is not of the mind to be rushed. Neither my hopes nor the changing calendar can persuade the warmth into the May mornings. It’s May for me, too, no longer the early sobriety of January. The years have marched on; I wait for the delivery of my returning brains. Long term sobriety has begun but I am still beset with the chill of fragility. I desire dignity and find myself strutting like a fowl with blooming plumage, addled and gawky.

“Don’t worry,” says my sponsor, “the pussy willow is in no way less for showing itself in the rawness of growth.”

Listen to the sounds of your life.

*

Unfettered

“The difference between a demand and a request

is apparent to everyone.”

A drunk once said this and I hold it to my heart.

I can not be bullied or swindled into a corner;

neither will I allow you to put a rope around my neck

like a wayward calf.

I obey because it works for me

and if you teach me that you are untrustworthy

or careless I will obey you no longer,

this doesn’t make me less obedient

it just takes you out of the lead.

Sometimes I hold the reins

and most times they are in the hands of God,

but never shall my reins be in the hands of another,

this is what I drank over

and this is what I could drink over again.

No one person is my salvation

and I cannot allow anyone to be my demise.

If you consume me like a drink,

I will kill you as surely as any drug.

Rain

April 1

RAIN

The rain makes shadows of water. It spills onto the ground like tiny worlds. What had been airborne and mist is now earthbound and integral, feeding, cutting, learning the world. Once I contemplated theories and mystery. Now, washing dishes is a spiritual service. The view was lovely when I was above it all but now I course through the veins of life. There may come a time when I am untouchable again but by then I will have been a part of it all. I will carry the world with me always, an orbiting servant not just above but through.

Engrave compliments in your mind.

*

Clock and Calendar Girl

I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through.

The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment

and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder;

I climb from month to month and age to age.

When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic

till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more.

Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes

to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain.

Take away my clock and I go deaf,

remove my calendar and I go blind.

Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound.