Compost

January 24

 

 

COMPOST

 

Looking at the bins, the stages of decomposition remind me of my disease, the stinking garbage I came in with.  I have learned to work my program the same way I learned to tend my pile: personal experience, advice, watching and smelling the mistakes of others and myself.  I learned that covering thoroughly with meetings and steps works like leaves and hay to eliminate the immediate stench.  Circulation is important to prevent me from becoming stale.  In the end, the secret is turning it over.  If I don’t turn it over, I become putrid; I rot and ferment instead of decomposing, breaking down in a way which restores me to usefulness.  When I work the process, my Higher Power turns me into a medium of growth, a renewed source of life and depth.  I become rich in all the things that matter and sought after by all the people involved in planting seeds of hope.

My sponsor says it’s a sign of humility that I aspire to be like dirt, encouraging sprouts from the remnants of my past.

She might be right.

 

 

Speak from your heart, listen with your mind.

*

 

 

Frankie

“Why do I expect new leaves to grow on dead sticks?”

I pleaded to my sponsor.

“Is that a ‘why do fools fall in love’, question?” she retorted.

“Oh, I suppose it is.  I was doing so well having a ‘listen only’

relationship with someone then she asked why I don’t tell her

my opinion and I like a ‘fool’ I told her.

The ensuing pile of rationalizing and justifying

she gave stank up my whole day.”

“I bet your steady stream of self-reproach didn’t help either,”

my sponsor added.

“But, I know better!” I cried.  “I mean this is why I stopped

my speaking role with this girl.

I know she is a reactor NOT a listener.

How could I fall apart at her first recognition that I am wordless

in the face of her diatribes?”

“You were hopeful, is that such a crime?

You think better of people than they really are.

I think that helps you stay willing to help them,” she soothed.

“Yes, but this snapped my willingness to work with her in half.

How do I put it back together?”

“Maybe you needed to learn that it’s okay to leave the dead sticks behind.”

 

 

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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About Sherrie Theriault

Sherrie Theriault, writer and outsider artist lives in northwest New Jersey where she writes villain-free fiction for children and young adults, creates coloring books for all ages, writes daily inspiration books for the recovery community and has other works of collected poetry; also adult fiction. Books available on Amazon.com include the following: Cala Mae The Deep Dark Day In The Congenial Chronicles The Holland’s Adventure Fill Me In Fill Me In, Too Filled In Sober on the Way to Sane More Sober on the Way to Sane Lines from My Life More Lines from My Life On-Liners to Live By My Sponsor Said… Elissa: Queen of Carthage Was Love Lost Order of Protection The Story Precedes the Question Can You See? What the Birdies Told Me about You What the Birdies Told Me about You Coloring book The Enchanting Dog Sherrie’s books are available at Blue Stockings, Manhattan, NY, The Clinton Book Shoppe, Clinton, New Jersey, Giovanni’s Room, Philadelphia, PA, Easy Does It in Long Beach, CA and The Latest Thing in Costa Mesa, Ca. You can find Sherrie’s art work at Hang-Ups Gallery in Allentown, PA or online at: SerendipitousGallery.com Please feel free to contact her there if you have any questions.
This entry was posted in 12 step recovery, Alcoholics Anonymous, Compost, Frankie, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Sponsorship, Wisdom and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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