The dream sobriety I envision, the fantasy recovery I mentally construct, blows out to sea as so much mist in the face of actual life. Setting out sports teams, which don’t exist, is playful and entertaining. Trying to rebuild the principals of the program is a delusion I can drink over. Finessing my network, and pretending I can put together my team on a basis of specialized talents instead of ground level willingness, is like designing a plane without regard to physics, playing only to aesthetics. Anytime I am redesigning I must realize I am no longer participating. If I keep my head in the game, I can stay away from statistics and stop planning outcomes.
Shade your life from undo exposure.
There were scads and scores of words
that I had at my command.
I could command them that was a fact;
comprehend them that was an illusion.
My sponsor had every confidence in me
and started my word comprehension lessons
with the tough ones first:
“No,” she would ask,
“What don’t you understand the Nnnnnn part
or the OHhhhhh part?”
Took me sometime to catch on to words deep as that.
Serenity that I learned through living Braille.
Learned it like any hungry child, by taste.
Learned it like learning the ocean as you swim in it.
Serenity is my ballast and my bail,
As for peace, all I can say is:
No comprehension, no peace;
know comprehension, know peace.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault