Birth of an Apple

October 24

 

BIRTH OF AN APPLE

 

 

When an apple gives birth what is the result?   Seed or sauce?  Crunch or crisp?  The act of creation is so much an act of sacrifice, how can it be limited to only one kind of delivery?  The children of effort produce fruit of their own; who am I to call them other than my kin?  How many times have I thrown over bluster for blizzard?  But snow is snow.  I can accept every squall if I keep clear and willing.  I may finish my days in a winter orchard if I spend my life picking not choosing.

 

 

Keep two lists: what you want and what you have.

*

 

 

Behind Closed Doors

 

 

The children of happy fathers make no sense to me.

I have known no such peace.

What is it to live in a world where there is a man

who likes you, someone who approves?

 

I feel like my chin would have always been out there to see,

no ducking, no need to hide,

had there been a good man to whom I could turn.

 

The dark circles under the eyes of my soul make me old,

old and different from those kids, mere children,

safe in a home with a happy man whose joy it is to be their Dad.

 

 

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 apples, creativity, Dad, Family Dysfunction, Family Ties, Father, Feelings, Hope, Humor, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Waiting for the Recovery of Others

October 23

 

WAITING FOR THE RECOVERY OF OTHERS

 

 

I sit on my hands and wait for these bright pennies to earn the lessons of time.  I dance my little dance and move on, dropping the pretense of patience.  I search other forests, fields, and meetings and encounter many fine plums, though none are the gems incubating at home.  I make acceptance my goal and breathe through my days.  I watch the bulbs ripen and bloom.  I wonder at their beauty, inhale their sweetness.  I have lost track of my personal progress.  I behold, with charmed dismay, the open chasm before me.  I must turn from the flowers and let the new lessons begin.

 

 

Don’t show your broken places to everyone, but do show them to someone.

*

 

 

 

Spectrum

 

 

The quality of the poetry

is so dependent on the quality of the lighting.

Improve the color palette and yes, you’ve guessed the result.

 

So, I say to you, “Turn up the lights.

Do not write in half-dark grief and limp through the words.

Spotlight what you can and illuminate the rest.

 

You needn’t make a sound,

needn’t pitch a tent, needn’t build a bridge,

though you may, may if you wish.

 

And wish is what I do, wish for better light

and when the clouds break loose in the sky let the sun pour in.

I lift my pen and make it all;

for what was needed was this better light.”

 

 

 

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 12 step recovery, Affirmation, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Sponsorship, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Privilege of Sunrise

October 22

 

THE PRIVILEGE OF SUN RISE

 

 

I wake, happily, at 5:30.  I will again see the show beyond compare.  In stark contrast to the mornings I filled with moping or sober angst, shades of the same dark color, I shuck my covers, bathing and dressing with purpose, and propel myself forward.  I hate to miss the first act.  Dawn, the tint of clouds dusky and sweet.  I’m on my route; I start my open-eyed prayer.  For all those living at the hands of an addict, Be with them.  Please.  For the addicts, help us all to fail fast.

I scan the horizon, checking all the views.  I reflect on the striking change, earthbound green and gold, sky held pink, orange and blue.  The silhouettes of trees exquisitely lit from behind, the sweet moon sharing the sunrise with me, add to the pleasure of my drive.  I start my gratitude list.  Beginning with my sobriety…each moment, the people, the life, the thinking, the feeling, and my ability to share it all with you.

 

 

Don’t become overly fond of nothingness for it may consume you.

*

 

Jacks

 

 

Born crazy, is that better than becoming deranged?

Do birth affects excuse my unrepentant glee?

Does irrepressible sardonic wit

explain the order of restless exposition?

 

Can you count on Cicadic enthusiasm to carry me,

or flightless fancy to keep me down?

I am beyond redemption, beyond reception, beyond device.

 

I arrived riddled with chaotic cracks,

but I am more than just a glaze

and deep down I’m more than sound,

 

So walk with my wild side

and your thoughts I’ll rearrange.

 

 

 

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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Reflections of You

October 21

 

REFLECTIONS OF YOU

 

 

When people meet me they listen and stare, then the familiar words tumble from their mouths, “there is something about you.”  I know it’s the reflection of every person I saw at the meeting last night, the sober voices that created them, also the mirror of years spent in rooms just the same.  I know this is what is seen in me.  The bright light shines on me and the prism of time fans the colors to my new acquaintance.  I thank my Higher Power for letting me be a spectral instrument and I am grateful to the fellowship for shining the light on and through me.

 

 

Recycle absolutes into planters.

*

 

 

 

Canine Comprehension

 

 

I wonder what it is that the dog knows.

True love, quantum physics,

the ratio of lift to thrust required to make the ball fly,

how food shared from my plate

is better than food from her bowl.

 

This begs the next question.

What do I really know; song lyrics, nursery rhymes,

old scores from old grudges?

 

What I hope I have learned;

is the space it takes to keep an open mind,

the willingness required to make a real change,

and the width, depth and breath of honest affection.

 

If I haven’t learned these things

I will put them at the top of my list of things to do.

Because I believe I can teach this old dog a few new tricks.

 

 

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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Walking Joy Home

October 20

 

WALKING JOY HOME

 

 

I make sure to walk joy home not because I doubt her ability to find it alone, rather because it gives me extra time with her.  I used to fear joy, that I would be intoxicated by her presence and lose my well-hardened grasp on realism.  Now I see that without joy in my life there is no realism, that it was only cynicism masquerading in its place.  Joy is simple and unassuming.  I often confuse her with ecstasy and scoot away in shy terror.  Joy is nice to have around.  She is not just a party animal; sometimes I invite her over for a cup of tea.  When we are done I take the winding path to savor every step up to her door.

 

 

If you can’t lay down your burden move it from hand to hand.

*

 

Resilience

 

When I experience trauma or drama

my heart and soul return to the toddler state;

I feel the urge to stay up and push forward.

I resist help and rest.

 

I try to override animal need in favor of intellectual prowess.

Bleary eyed and red-faced, I soldier on,

only managing to make my life  into a ceaseless fight.

 

My charm and wit wear thin; then wear out.

I need to recharge my batteries,

need to hit reset and restore my default settings.

 

It is hard for me to accept that I must lie down

in order to get up again.

Restoration is impossible to achieve from my battle stance.

 

Resilience is a bouncing ball.

What I want to rise I must first throw down.

 

 

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 12 step recovery, Affirmation, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Joy, Poetry, Resilience, Sponsorship, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Marmalade

October 19

 

MARMALADE

 

 

Marmalade, bitter and sweet, spread across my spiritual toast; zest and sticky solution mix and cover the surface.  I bite down taking in the start of my day.  Past this point anything is possible, fame or disaster, a dreary fog-filled morning or cloudless afternoon.  Seeing the passing populous, I alternately advance and retreat from this human wall.  Response and responsibility tattletale their way to my reactionary will.  The tightrope sways over river of potential; balance is more than a desire, it is a necessity.  So I enjoy my breakfast tea and watch the marmalade melt as I dip my bread in my well-steeped brew.  The parade will start soon enough; I need this time before I launch into the fray.

 

 

Start a fire in your mind.

*

 

 

 

Self Importance

 

 

When I am over sensitive and everything

that everyone does looms large for me,

I am more likely to think

that I am a driving force in the lives of others.

 

It’s a funny connection in the same way

that when I scratch the dogs tummy her foot paddles;

when I am not getting my needs met

I tend to believe I am in this world

to meet the needs of others.

 

Often when in this mindset I also delude myself further

to worry that I may be the only person

who can help these other people.

 

I have been training myself to throw a flag

on any and all plays where I am that important.

I try to bring all action to a stop

and get right sized about who I am

and how important I am and to whom and why.

 

It’s not that I don’t have value,

I have the same value as everyone else,

but when I shortchange my needs and my feelings,

over responsibility to others mushrooms

and this is not good for anyone; me least of all.

 

As with most things,

if I find out what is right for me

it tends to be right for those around me,

even if I can’t see that at the time.

 

 

 

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 12 step recovery, Affirmation, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Poetry, self-seeking, Sponsorship, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My Heroine

October 18

 

MY HEROINE

 

 

The corpse that is my childhood is mine to protect from the wolves and rats of denial and collusion.  The infant who commits suicide in self-defense is my heroine.  The pure thinking of an uncluttered mind seizes on the only possible way for me to survive.  Her death at her own hand is my rescue.  If the bad had killed her I would have died with her.  In her plan, I was left as the seed she ejected in her assent.  She is gone from this place; I feel her only as the wisp of memory.  The tiny body laid flat on the carpet, her pressed pinafore somehow more alive than she, is the unfinished business of prevention.  As long as I see her there and do not walk away from my responsibility and never forget she protected me with the life she never lived, I am free to live this life.

 

 

Throw ice cubes up for God to catch.

 

*

Earl Grey is not my Friend

 

Scabby knees is what I look for;

I need to be with those who climb,

not those who slide.

 

I hate to say it, but looking cool

and sitting on the sidelines

does nothing for me or my sobriety.

 

I have to build those calluses,

require patches in my clothes,

carry a hammer to pound in those spikes.

 

If I don’t see tools in your hands

and bodily evidence that you have been using them,

I really don’t have time for you.

 

This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me

and if it isn’t for you then have fun

and I hope you have a good seat,

but I am not staying for your tea party;

I have no time for tarts.

 

 

 

 

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 12 step recovery, Affirmation, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hero, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Sponsorship, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment