Single Serving Sterling
When the menu of life feels vast I must focus on my teaspoon; a simple tool that fits well in my hand, whose use I well understand. The possibilities conceived when I ponder the intangibles conspire to suck me down the rabbit-hole where all that’s left to me is a drug. When I come back to stir my tea and lick the spoon clean the world revolves around me and without need of my completed unified theory. Need looms, loss stacks, salvation keeps a steady distance, my only hope is to drink my tea, I shan’t even sharpen my spoon; I can and need to stay out of my fear built prison and off the streets of hell. My task is at hand and the size of the scoop is a reminder to take all of life in small doses.
Treat hope as a living thing; feed its hunger, quench its thirst
Gravity is always in effect
But invoke the laws of lift
And you can make a stone fly.
I have no gills
But strap on a tank and rebreather
And I can share space with the sharks.
Given enough willingness and step work
I can walk through the world sober
Though every cell of my body is alcoholic.
The laws of nature are fluid
When I flow with them I can keep my goals.
Instant gratification is often my stumbling block.
Gaining access to my far-flung desires
Is not impossible
But it is also not immediate.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault