My name has a foreign sound; my head turns when it is called. I recognize this as training not identity. I remember teaching the dog her name. I called it while petting and praising her, soon the name was hers. Now, I think of G-d. Did we call long and loud enough to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible? Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable; assigned it a place on a shelf; somewhere to be called up from? Does that noise sound as strange as the syllables of my name sound to me? Does it matter as long as we answer?
Check for low doorbells and high expectations
PARADOX OF PARADISE
Paradise is created when I collect paradox and live with it.
Paradise is the set of acceptance and suspended disbelief.
If anything is possible accepting what comes is less heart wrenching.
If I arrest my misgivings
Gratification in the voluptuousness of now —is velvet.
Vague consent is a Hell of incapacity.
Fighting fiercely for both sides
Keeps the heart pumping and the mind at bliss.
I must work to embrace contradiction and happiness
There is more than one path to take
And I must take that one.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault