Escaping through the Ceiling

April 24

 

 

 

ESCAPING THROUGH THE CEILING

 

 

Up and away is my motto; upwardly mobile is my goal.  If I can flee without leaving a track, I’m clean.  No heart-wrenching walk down the aisle or the lane.  No dust on my shoes.  No possibility of stumbling.  Grace at all cost.  Empowerment through elevation.  If I must leave my human plane to attain this, so be it.  Give up my natural rights, such is life.  But, yet, if I lose my bonds to earth what did the leaving gain me?  I arise to appear better; as a result, I appear not at all.

 

 

Hold your hand then touch your face.

 

*

 

 

 

Imperturbable

 

 

Perfectionism is a cover,

a blanket of lead;

hard to move and rich with poison.

 

What it tries to hide

is my unwillingness to struggle and strive.

It’s not a fear of failure,

but the horror of success after a long hot pursuit.

 

If I can stall on the intricacies of the first move

there is no further movement.

If I can fail before I begin

there is no sweat, no stain, no stink.

 

Catastrophe is no bother,

but skinned knees are my undoing.

Winning is not so important to me;

my unfortunate goal is to look untroubled.

 

 

 

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

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Crumpled Petals in my Pocket

April 23

 

 

 

CRUMPLED PETALS IN MY POCKET

 

 

I can’t bring back the bloom.  Cohesion, lost in ripeness, is left only to memory.  I carry home the parts, folded, petite, fragrant bedding for my wistful desires.  I put these colored remnants into a jar of salt.  I make an aromatic rub for the sweetest of wounds.  Transforming the parts to useful duty doesn’t restore the flower.  It doesn’t pay tribute to the past; it is survival.  I have a mind filled with roses but I must make hay.  Today, I live.  Today, the rose is dead, its pieces in my pocket.  I don’t die with the blossom, though my head blows in the wind.  The rose runs its course. I run mine.

 

 

Line your clouds with anything you like.

*

 

 

 

 

Coming Home to Work

 

 

I have arrived home to a beehive;

everyone industrious,

everyone filled with purpose,

everything buzzing right along.

 

My response to this of course is anger.

I have a sting and I want to use it.

I have a place it falls into yet I fear falling.

 

The living world is now opened to me,

but my destination had been death for so long

that the prospect of diligence ignites steel blue fury.

 

I divide my time between gratitude and rage.

I want to accuse myself, rescue myself,

then I remember everyone in this place too

has a buzz, a stripe and a stinger.

 

 

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

Posted in Hope, Humor, Life, Living in todsay, Living Life, Poetry, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Whammo

April 22

 

WHAMMO

 

 

 

I have been hopping on one foot with a ball of hope shoved under one arm and a ball of hysteria under the other.  I wish I could tell from the outside of the ball which is the hope.  I worry I will put down the wrong one, so I hold on to both.  My life is sorely limited by the baggage, and I fear I am losing life with every hop.  A lack of information is my problem.  I don’t adequately know the properties of either and suspect my every interpretation.  Finally, I stand before my sponsor to ask the question of my life.

“That’s easy, Honey.  Hope is the one that bounces back,” is all she has to say.

 

 

Give yourself credit in a currency that enriches your life.

*

 

 

Halloween

 

 

“Why does self-centered fear wear a costume

that looks so much like ‘other people’s opinion’?”

I asked my sponsor.

 

“For the same reason

that booze masquerades as ‘a good time.’

How would you ever fall into a pit

which used no pretense?

 

Naked ambition attracts far fewer devotees than addicts of

‘must make Mama and Daddy proud’

or the ‘doing better for my kids’ crowd.”

 

“Ambition is not all together bad!” I crow.

“Neither is fear in its proper scale,

but fear cloaks itself to seize more than its share of your life,

just like any parasite.

 

So take your spring tonic like a good kid

and keep the worms at bay.”

 

 

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

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Solidity

April 21

 

 

 

SOLIDITY

 

 

Apprehension stands in the archeological site that is my life…listening.  Listening for the rumble of a cement truck to come and help solidify the shifting and tenuous nature of my existence.  A wet and sloppy solution.  A solution to be raked and smoothed, covered and cured.  Something to build a monument on or a place to park my car.  The nearby grass looks lush and green but I dare not leave apprehension alone or it spreads.  I stand with it on bad days and against it on good ones.  I pray for the mixer to arrive or at least the gravel spreader.  I need to fill this hole so it can be a life and stop being a grave.

 

 

When your emotions are at low tide, explore the shoreline for shells and trinkets.

*

 

 

More Better

 

 

When I take a break from my idyllic life,

trading up to paradise,

I balk at thoughts of returning

to the simply marvelous

day to day I have worked so hard to attain.

 

Self accusation floods under the door,

but I whimilate it with fact.

My reluctance to turn my back on a good thing

is an asset which many days keeps me sober.

 

I greedily seize every improvement

and hold on for dear life.

If reflections of the past

even held a glimmer for me I might worry;

 

I turn from all but the highest good.

I don’t regret the past

but I shall never return to 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

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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.

 

 

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

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Drowning Naked

April 19

 

 

 

DROWNING NAKED

 

 

Bare and exposed, I laid myself on the altar of my home group.  With AA as my only Source, I emptied the contents of my soul and bore the mantle of overexposure.  But vultures lurked in many rooms.  I was safely guided, by persons of my gender, to the more secluded and effective place of transmission.  I thrust myself into the arms and mind of my sponsor.  She escorted me up the steps with the door closed and taught me how and when it could be prudently opened.  AA is a power greater than me.  So is the ocean.  Precaution needs to be taken when wading in.  Care must be exercised as to how much to bare.

 

 

Wrap your intentions in wool to keep them warm and in gold to keep them untarnished.

*

 

 

 

Bound

 

 

The reason the sleeves of my disease

wrap around and tie in the back

is so that I will struggle with change.

 

Alcoholism is my straightjacket

and my goal is that ‘loose garment life’

I’ve heard so much about.

 

The sweat I work up

from railing against my confining existence

causes petulance, frothing and enervation,

 

Defeat is the landing on which I collapse,

acceptance a flight of steps away.

My ailment leads me to believe

I have nothing to hold onto as I adjust.

 

Though this isn’t true,

the fact remains that this is still

a process of letting go.

 

 

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

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Claw Marks

April 18

 

 

 

CLAW MARKS

 

 

There is a brackish river whose current changes direction twice a day.  Its bed is well washed on every side.  It begs the question: which way is downhill?  There are times I struggle uphill in both directions.  There are times I slip from every slope.  What was up is often down.  Judgment of topography requires distance.  Scaling the surface takes tenacity.  I plan on leaving my mark as I go, life’s residue staining my fingertips.

 

 

Design caution signs for your emotions.

*

 

 

What I Take from Laban’s House

 

 

If I have the audacity to have a problem

I must provide the instantaneous solution

or be the cause of world-wide panic.

Additionally it is the height of rudeness

to have open-ended dilemma.

 

It makes the gods uncomfortable,

makes them shift in their seats

and wish me away.

 

I prevent banishment

by either being problem free

or solution-full

 

When the answers are not to their liking

I exile myself saving them the inconvenience

and me the embarrassment.

 

It is never good to implode the household deities,

you never know when you might need one

for historic perspective or a door stop.

 

 

 

 

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

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