The novelty of sobriety causing sweet days wore to gauze and I attempted control. I cut, pasted and sutured elements of good living in an effort to make 24 hours of personal perfection. I was so sure I could replicate these jewel like days. I would make perfect spheres, everything round and even, one after another like a string of pearls. The more I tried the harder God laughed. Days are their own planets; Saturn is different from Mars and today will have just as little to do with tomorrow if I let it all work out. Perfection is a thing, which is born to live, not a thing I can craft in a dish or a test tube. Life must will-out or chaos will prevail.
Take two words and make a seesaw in your mind.
Who is Who
Remake the bed for the restless child in you
who sleeps better if attention is paid to the small kindnesses.
Placating her saves you the sound of her plaintive cry.
If you teach yourself
or allow yourself to grow fond of her, this child you,
these simple chores will seem light, refreshing, natural.
If you fight her she will grow strong
and you will grow weak.
Don’t resist nature.
Don’t resist your nature.
Take a hug to share
as you would take an apple divided
on a walk in the woods with a companion.
Share emotional embraces,
let your thoughts surround her
when you make plans and do deals.
If you treat her as if she is the best of you,
you will become the best of her.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault