Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 20

NUZZLE’S OFFERING


Like a vegan kitten who wrestles long tailed leaves and twigs, subduing them and dragging these prizes to the feet of human parents, I fight paper tigers and bring the tatters as tribute to my Higher Power. These bloodless battles are pure practice; future wars may not be as clean. I can not enlist my God to fight these skirmishes; I would never believe in one that I could. I accept Deus as creator and cheerleader, but champion, no. Foliage and foes are mine to fight. The spoils, I bring back for pats on the head and bragging.


Talk to things other than people.
*


Triumph


God and I are experience junkies;
part of why I am here is so God can take me for a ride,
but also for the treat of God tucking into the sidecar
and letting me take us out for a spin.

I am God’s audience and God is mine;
though we are not peers we are comrades.
Life is a serious business I am sure and
profit and loss are always there to be considered.

I can barely describe to you
how much being in love with my creator is a joy,
but even better is being the apple of my creator’s eye.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 21

FLORAL TROPHIES


Captured pet plants grow in my window. Why these specimens are given such regal care I suspect, but can’t explain. Delicate shoots pile out of sturdy stalks; roots force the confines of my decorative pots. How many neighborly blooming faces stare into my kitchen, greeting me mornings? I am amazed what good company my leafy friends can be when I am loving myself. Advantageous to my mental health, I breathe their exhaust and they breathe mine. Symbiotic, we live. I grow and flower; grateful these plants keep me.


Allow also small dreams that fit in your hand.
*

Jet Lagging


Baby’s feet kick in the isle
and we are all cocooned in our seats.
The movies play and earphones dangle in our ears.

We are jetting across the country in our own little worlds.
Landing can not happen soon enough for me,
not that I want to foreshorten the flight.

I just know I have a stack of lives waiting for me
and I would like to get back to living them.
I have been a week away, a vacation for sure and true
but I have my keep to earn, my obligations are many.

I hope to have done myself proud when I am through,
but until then there is much to do.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 22

JELLYFISH AND PEANUT BUTTER CARDS



Jellyfish and peanut butter cards make for busy days and cheerful nights, sunlit at the beach and lantern light filled with double-decker solitaire. Camping as a way of life suits some as they run from their lives. For the more balanced, camp is a temporary retreat. To the overly invested, camping is an aberration, a threat to the foundations of civilization as we know it. I can take a bit of sand in my hair, smoke in the air. Though I do dread the feeling of coming back to the life I love and feeling like a stranger. Temporary disengagement estranges me from the place, the things, the dog. I need time away, variety of experience, expanded horizons. I need my entrenched home life. I need it all and must accept the clock never stops running anyplace on the planet even if I am enjoying a good game with sticky camp cards, regaling tales of man-of-war.


Don’t break your wishbone.
*

One and One


The person who has nothing is vague.
The person who has too much alludes.
And these people may falsely mistake one another
for kindred when what you draw your conclusions from
are the poems and sweet words,
which flow out of these divergent folk.

A paper house is built, but the living is impossible.
Tying strings to dreams doesn’t permit you
to fly away to fairylands it just leaves you prone
to lightening strikes and long wet wicks.

What could be the truth unfolded;
spread broadly for all to see?
Where could the roads so very far apart
lead to a home, a hearth, a life?

Or is this just a field of fantasy flowers blooming in our minds?
Mist is vapor pretending at a marriage
to a world it will soon evaporate and leave.
You and I are passing ships on a short sad night.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 23

PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL


In truth, pride goes wherever it wants, it’s pride. Pride wanders alone, for no one enjoys its company. Pride travels far but gets nowhere. Pride rises above reality and seeps beneath the surface. When pride wears out, love and honesty poke holes in it until it is grounded and transforms to humility. Pride’s past is remembered with flush and embarrassment. Recounting yesterday is pride’s unenviable task. Keeping it from recreation is mine.


Dress yourself with love.

*
No Mickey Mouse


The Wonderful World of Disney
belonged to normal children;
kids with Sunday nights
and not the tear filled screaming
which punctuated my weekends.

I had no time for the creative melodrama
built to add interest into the dull little lives
of safe little ones, there is no Disney for me;
no clean pasteled figures frolicking.

I know only the freshened wit of the wizened rabbit
and the frenetic slamming of that distorted duck;
these are there for me.
Teaching me the dark humor of the life I lead;

Preparing me to laugh at M*A*S*H,
yet still never cluing me to the fact
that Carroll O’Connor was only teasing,
so still I cried to hear his rants,

But the dry irony of Hawkeye,
war and blood, those I got.
I was carefully led there by the Merry Melodies.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 24

LIKE PEACE


Peace, like an elephant on my chest; I can’t breathe but at least we are not fighting. The rigid air hangs like sheets on the line, stiff but dry. Plastered smiles and short salutations get us through until bedtime, but what we can hold in standing up pours out lying down. Tender feelings are compressed and come out only as water. Anger bubbles and brews. Disappointment lives down deep and sours the milk of love. There are things worse than cross words. Moldering, festering, frozen words pound spikes in a relationship fraught with apprehension. The truth is I would let these pent-up things out, but I don’t trust you and I don’t trust me.


See through time.

*
How I’ve come upon the World.


My first exposure to Bogart
was as the man who was after Bugs Bunny,
and Lauren Bacall was only referred to as Baby.

I only ever heard Kaw Liga because
Stephen King referenced it too often
and I had to go have a listen.

I come through the back door on so much of the world
and it has served me rather well.
Yes, I often feel ignorant,
but at least the knowledge never sees me coming
and I get the drop on it.

There is a quality to not having been spoon-fed,
that keeps me sharp and allows for depth.
The universe sends me clues and I go investigate.

It cuts down on the agendaed learning of the social norms
and cuts me a wide swath beyond the common path.
There are times when conformity is key;
then again it’s a sweet thing to have a choice.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 25

THE FLYING MIND


When my brain flies out my ear, destination unknown, I am left mentally bereft. I feel intellectual convolution and show no affliction other than my inability to fulfill my assignments. I stare out sure a ring of blue birds circle my head, or maybe stars like any other cartoon patsy. What to do? These parodied wingdings ridicule me privately leaving the impression of idiocy with onlookers and supervisors. My focus and perceptions quaver and I lose my place. I have to find a way to spot and keep my emotional balance, the same way I stay upright during pirouettes by watching one doorframe or light switch. I need an unmoving object in a sea of swimming thoughts. I still need to make the mental turns but this should be much easier if I stop landing on my face.


Work with yourself.
*


John Grisham


My time hovering low over the ocean
has filled me until I am ready to drop.
The weight of what is inside me bears down.

I know with the slightest cooperation
I will become a rainmaker.
I am mostly fine with this.

I know from whence the rain was derived
and I can let it fall in peace.
What I don’t know how to handle
is the acknowledgement.

The difference between what I know
and what you might think is vast
and if I try to dissuade you
I sound disingenuous or fraudulent.

I have to get my head around the part I play
and accept the roses when they come.
I don’t understand how this looks from offstage
or what it means to those who watch.

I hope they will enjoy the work
but never mistake me for the playwright.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 26

ASSURANCES OF GULLIVER



Poor Lilliputians and my egg shaped conundrum! At least they have the strength of their convictions when I have only pondering to share the space between my ears. What sense could the world make if there is no one right way and each person is free to open the egg from either end or leave the thing intact, having instead maybe a bagel? I have been looking for the combinations to unlock the universe when possibly it’s an egg shaped thing with no doors or locks and all that’s left is to break in or out.


Believe what you can do.
*



Poorly Chirping

She writes poetry like fusion jazz,
more fun to make than to listen to.
She stands at the podium serving as a bad example.

I pray as she reads,
“Lord, please don’t let me get sucked into
the self-importance of bad poetry
for the sake of peering peers,

Forgetting to write what is there
for the world, the readers,
the things which bring the word pictures
and sets them before me.

Lord, remind me that the writing is not done for me,
but done for as Billy Collins quotes,
for the love of strangers.”

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 27

THE STORYTELLER



Funny stories I long to share with new friends have to be put aside while the core of this entity is built. Mutual memory is the siding on a house framed in integrity. Treading together through the past, we strengthen each other's perception; it's the only support that can be offered without time travel. We take hands, then link arms, wander happily toward the future having the keys to history jangling in our fists; we can return whenever prudent or necessary. We forge a fresh path and hope for a pleasant journey; between us we figure we have slain all the dragons.


Invest in idealism.
*
At The Dodge


I remember so long ago
when I would come and sit and listen;
soak in the poets and the Consort,
sop it all into the sponge that listened and sat.

I did not know exactly what they were doing
and I didn’t know why I was there,
but I went and had a soak.

Now so many years hence
I am the writer I never knew
and I know just what they do ,
because I do it too!

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 28

NAVY DUCK



When the postcard is hung upside down the plane flies away on its back. I know one of those irregular days with the disposition of a bee-stung mule is on its way to visit me. I have found diplomacy goes a long way and when it runs out, humor is the best fallback, nothing mean or sophomoric, but the ability to laugh is a fortune in the face of a bankrupt day. When the sun sets on these spare and harrowing days, I mortgage strength from tomorrow and right the picture then try to fly right.


Plod when you can’t skip.

*
The Twelfth of April


When I met you,
you were a power tagged and trapped in a box.
A tiger caught by its toe and yet I could do nothing
but fall under the spell of your roar.

The suppressed growl you leave for me
like an invitation I could never decline.
I write to you a note of explanation;
words testifying to my desire,
which I promise to hold back out of respect for you.

And a wish to survive my drive toward you
and your furious stripes and claws.
Your bite which I long to feel,
yet know I must not ask for.

When I inquire if you have read,
you say with sanguine smile, “Read it to me.”
When I am done and with tear stained face,
all you reply is,
“I have lost my taste for anyone but you.”

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 29

ENDLESS PASTA




Having limits in a seemingly limitless universe makes me feel horribly inadequate. I am a sad little creature in the face of overwhelming tasks. Pressure and unwarranted ego compress my ability and eager disposition. I am forced to see there are chores outside my qualifications and willingness. Going on in the face of crushing requirements extrudes my life force into a plateful of capellini lying exposed with no gravy to keep me warm. It is hard to realize, in this world of wonder and delight a plate of naked spaghetti can’t do it all.



Put a penny in your sock.

*
Relay



I have waited so long for the chase, the trap,
the dig a ditch for safety, to be over and here we are;
ringed, safe and surrounded.

Now the sweet work of living the life
we have striven for, striven to.
I now long to be my best, do my best,
for you are the best for me and I am the best for you.

I tense and press against the blocks;
the race I wish to run,
but all I knew was to wait.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 30

FLAW IN SNOW



Waiting for snow. Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads, warm beds, reading by firelight. Waiting for the proof of lack of control. Waiting itself proves lack of control. I can dance the snow dance and refuse to buy new shovels, hang out laundry, put out every manner of storm tempters; still I cannot force the hand of nature. I must sit with my crystalline optimism and endure these cloudless skies. There will be snow, it will fall somewhere, but I mustn’t grow overanxious ‘cause it may never snow in Miami.


Treat yourself with learning.
*
My Most Important Meal


Sweet potato pudding sits on the plate;
I sit in my place and wield my spoon
until the plate is clean.
I’m fed, my day begins.

If this is the best part of my day,
life is still sweet and fine.
Time skips its way through and I meet and greet
the splendid and the few.

Picking my way, the raindrops step aside;
I am gratified, though I never mind the rain.
When the mud has settled and my bed calls me home;
I look back to the start of the day
and pray to begin the next one the very same way.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 1

ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT


Arrested development was bad enough; the living death sentence it imposes is completely unacceptable. My childhood ran down the hill away from the mountain of confusion that is life in this society. My ability to mature was damaged and what I learned to do was mutate. I could move laterally but never grow up. I became the goose being grown for its liver. All the honk and squawk in the world couldn’t change my plight. I don’t have to understand how I was let out of the prison of addiction. As long as I don’t go back I’ll never fear breaking out in handcuffs or getting locked in my crib.


Effort is already made, just add your hand.
*




Flower Power


The man with the chrysanthemum on his head
walks up and down the isle.
Do I look like that, I wonder to myself?
Have I taken personal style to the point of caricature?

What is the boundary by which
the embarrassment is kept at bay?
Is there a point at which I can overcome
who I present myself as,
and represent the best of who I can be?

Who I might be if only I can manage
not to get carried away by impressionism?
I am given this dwelling and it suits me quite well,
when I treat it as a temple and not simply as a shrine.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 2

There are only 23 more shopping days left till my nervous break down


Shoppers beware: I have a careful plan! I can juggle these thirty things, keep these twenty people happy, dig around in the dirt at these three excavation sites and hold on to my sanity for twenty-three more days.
My sponsor says having a plan like that means I’m already crazy. My sponsor says I don’t have to please anyone but myself, my Higher Power and her. That can’t be right. What is the point of sobriety if I can’t do it all?
She says I don’t even have to please her or myself. What does that mean? How can I tell if I’m pleasing my Higher Power?
She says, “Shut up and you’ll find out.” Great! What a plan. I like my countdown better. Of course I do, it’s mine. My countdown, my life, mine, mine, mine.
Maybe my sponsor is not all wrong. OK, quiet......da,da,da.....da,da. OK, quiet for real. Hmmm. I don’t, don’t know. This isn’t working. I can’t do this. Why would I need to stop being me in order to get better?
“Who are you?” she asks. She thinks she’s so smart. I’m the one in the middle. She says the eye of the storm is empty and I need to get a life of my own.

Endurance lets you live in the house you built.
*

Anti-Forfeit Activity


I don’t want to write
bad, forced, poor, weak, care-worn poems,
but I won’t write any good ones if I don’t lift this pen.

The embarrassment I might feel for lackluster lines
is far less than the shame of empty notebooks.
I don’t always like what flows when I open the gates,
but I am sure glad the current is live and so am I.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 3

MIRACULOUS


Sometimes the blind lead the deaf. The subtle signs are the bumping into trouble and inability to listen to reason. It is an expedition into disaster unfettered by common sense or boundaries. Tumbles and falls propel this pairing to unknown destinations. The attraction is baffling but undeniable. These pairs can be seen through the ages. In spite of this confounding coupling, sometimes the blind find their way and the deaf hear the call. And even when they don’t, life seems to roll along. But try to keep your eyes and ears open anyway.


Set the goalpost where you can see it.
*

Precious Cargo


Do I carry myself as well as I could?
Do I understand the value
of what is contained within me?

This journey matters,
it requires my attention and comprehension,
if only I am able.

When I fall short the road changes.
The distance I go has much to do with how well
and whether I acknowledge the nature of the cargo
with which I am embedded.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 5

THE BOAT


On my ride home from work there is a boat stuck between two trees in the middle of a horse pasture next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass. I think the boat is me. I feel for the boat every time I see it. Turned on edge, waiting for a river, which doesn't exist anymore and may never exist again. Placed on edge for protection, not comfort. Although having my bottom rot out, well, let's just say might be more uncomfortable. What good will I be even if the river runs again since I'm fenced in? My sponsor says I shouldn't ask any question which starts with the word 'why'. You know my reply.
If my Higher Power has a plan...if it includes a river and a fence… if I'm in this plan, me, the rowboat…I just don't see it. Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life says my sponsor. I don't tell her the theme in hers.
Truth is, I don't want to face the fact I might float away. Even though I'm supported by two big trees. Even though there is a tall fence all around me. Completely in spite of the fact THERE IS NO WATER! My Higher Power loves me. I am the boat.


Enjoy the flowers and slide on the snow.

*
It All Points to Joy


Can Love reweave the fabric which hate destroys?
Can Kindness resew the field
torn through with disregard?
Can Beauty paint the world anew
after so much ugliness has rained down upon us?

My heart believes these three cannot fail
to make things right
for what other point could there be than Joy?

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 6

MOSAIC


I couldn’t prevent this plate from shattering, so I saved all the pieces, losing none. I laid them edge-to-edge and made a design, secured it with thin-set. Pieces of pattern framed with grout are seen, as they never could be when this dish was whole. I am part of this construction more than just handing china onto the table. Integrity has been lost but replaced with fractured openness. The plate has lost personal unity to become an ingrained part of my personal archeology.


Fly your kite in the wind.
*


The Way West


The sun reflected in the windows
winks at me as I fly over.
The plane climbs higher
and the reflected light no longer reaches me.

I slip from my eastern bonds.
I am west coast bound.
The carpet of snow was laid down
to quiet the passage.

Clouds take over the task,
then part to reveal the patchwork
of the middle ground.

We cross the Stateline without a sound;
a few more miles then touchdown.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 7

ORIGINS


Pain-filled interactions with people better suited to be left alone changed me in the way of acceptance. Wretched relationships with people made it difficult for me to have a loving relationship with the world. I had imprinted as a fledgling on sarcasm and ridicule, bitter milk that starved my expectations of kind response. I could not greet the world eagerly. Having never embraced the world I failed to hang on as it turned. I slid on my face and hands. Mud covered, I try to keep an open mind and attempt a connection with this spinning orb.


Color your emotions.
*



Flight 548


What a happy flight wing to wing,
smiles, good cheer, the air is kind,
sweet, dry, easy to breathe.
I am so blessed.

I fly to destiny
watching the traveling baby circus
play around me.

Giggles and drool surround me,
infuse me with glee.
People wander the isle
looking like well loved characters
from long forgotten books and we soar.

Time does not pass any more quickly this way,
but it is similar to time in heaven
rather than time spent in hell.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 8

THE WAY I DO IT



Cooking by smell, parking by ear, recovering by touch. The latter has to be done this way; I cannot see into the black-box technology, which keeps me sober. Feel through the resentments, pain, sadness, joy; find myself under a pile of rags with a match in my hand. The many times the steps have saved me from becoming a human torch are balanced by the weight of the rope, woven from these same rags, that together we use to drag one another to safety. The savory scent of a meal, or the glee of front row parking can’t compare with the tender sense of a sober heart.


Write bad advice on tissue and wipe with it.
*

Master Mind


I was taught that it was my job to master fear;
raised in a religion swearing they could master death.
I used to spend all I had trying to create a master plan,
while trying to keep secure using a Master lock.

I have seen Master & Commander
and do not long for that burden;
in fact mastery is so much a snare and illusion.

Life is quite improved
when we each have an oar and we all row on.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 9

CLIMBING ON THE ARC


If time swings and the seasons swirl and I pulse out my existence, why does the bird's wing flap and the rain fall down? If the song comes from my mother’s lips and my father tells his tales and I dance my heritage with each step I take, then why does the flower open to the bee and the swan trumpet her way home? If everything pulls from the ground and reaches for the light, then how can I duck my head, hide my heart and pass this all off as a coincidence? Am I less than the rain or greater than the swan? Why can’t I just climb on the arc and let the continuum spin its web around me? Well, you see I can, but will I?


Let little birdies speak.
*


What I give you

If I give you a piece of my mind,
a piece of my heart, a piece of my liver,
how do I go on in its absence?
Or does it ever leave me?

Is this more like an excision than segmentation?
Is it similar to how I carry you with me
when I catch a resentment; only in a good way?

I don’t know that I can be truly divided up,
but I do know that parts of me
don’t belong exclusively to me anymore
and I believe this is all for the better.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 10

ELECTRIC CONNECTIONS



I step into a room and take its currency. Is the flow good? Steady? The pulse even and strong? Where are the power brokers and are they sharing the time or using their magnetic personalities to draw the current off others? I check the complement of resisters, examine their stripes and assess the possibilities. I pump in energy when I can and take when it is available. I keep in mind we are all transformers and change is possible for everyone as long as we make the connections.


Rich mistakes make good batter.
*



What’s that in the Pool?


Parts of the Rocky Mountains look like
algae bloom out in the Indian Ocean.
Parts of me look like parts of you
and here we go with oneness
being nothing more than
pattern recognition and optical illusion;
though I hope there is more to it than that.

My hurt might not be your hurt,
but I have a sense of it.
Likewise your hope may not resemble mine,
but it cheers you just the same
and we are all the better for it.

We needn’t replicate each other
or attempt imitation,
but recognition is a kind thing
and art is what we all have to share.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 11

TAPERS



I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends. I borrow from the beginning, I steal from the end, coming up short and feeling deeply cheated. I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser, arch-traitor selling short the days and hours for approval, not fulfillment. I put away my true identity: mammal, human, the love of; I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer, a tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit of everyone who attempts the portrayal. In spite of this the roads teem with actors becoming caricatures of a life less lived. The world is more than a stage, and I must free powers greater than I to be more than an audience.



Laugh at old jokes and tell new ones.
*


Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?


Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments.
When I fear for my survival,
physical, emotional or financial
this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder,
sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze.

Melt all which is steel strong between us
and create a molten mess
from which it will be a struggle to recover.

This is why me,
taking good care of me,
attending to my life, and quelling my fears
is the very best way for me to protect you
from my attitude and save me
from a negative balance sheet during my 10th step.

[takehimaway]

I have nine months sober today. -dances-

[LeftWriteFemme]

I have nine months sober today. -dances-

Congratulations!!! Happy Sobriety to you!!

[takehimaway]

Congratulations!!! Happy Sobriety to you!!

Thank you! I'm proud of myself!

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 12

BLEATING FORMALITY


Stupidity stalks me when I am tired, hijacking my mouth. I can put this off to pilot error or interruption of service on my neurologic pipeline, but truly I have been captured by senseless, irrational muttonness. I would love to say it was pigheadedness but, alas, I am not self-determined, I am a sheep. I open my lips and out pours the same plaintive cry as the surrounding herd. In addition, once begun, the wail is unending; it’s as if the bellows works on its own carrying a tune which blends with the entire wool-coated world. I shift and run with my position according to the movements at large. I am following the reactionary breed, dropping the specifics of my personality as one of the crowd; my brain is switched off and a quick veneer grows over my eyes. I can’t see, think, or speak for myself and yet it doesn’t occur to me to hit the hay. When as a petulant three year old I do fall to sleep in my tracks, I wake as myself with many bleating apologies to be made.

Put morbidity on a leash and never walk it alone.
*


Peter and I


This flight is not filled
with the giggling cherubs of my westerly flight,
but among the solemn children on this flight
is Peter, the oldest of four,
who is reading Tolkien
and marking his place with a two page wish list.
Christmas is coming and Peter seems confident.

I wonder if we are what we read
and ponder if I am what I write.
Poetry, stories, novels, declarations,
it all feels like arms and legs,
things I cannot move right without.

I live better when they are out and free.
I am free too, when they live on their own
and I am not their soul residence.

I have to rededicate myself
to the work entrusted to me
for so much living depend upon it.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 13

WHAT IS MINE


The cloud of snow slept in the tree overnight and poured from the branches with the morning breezes. Showers of crystal, dropping from a clear daylight sky, are telltales of intentions delayed. What was meant for moon time has been kept till sunshine, a treat for bright eyes and young hearts. How can I weep over altered destinations? Arrivals and departures are truly within the province of poetry and postcards, not things for worry or fretting. Putty is for forming into an image of my desire not the world. Time is a liquid substance I cannot decant at my will. Shoulds and oughts are parlor games for the bored and senseless. If I waste my life playing a game I can’t win I will fail to see what I can’t lose.


Work with someone who works.
*


Pretty Girls

Pretty girls seem to live by separate rules,
but I don’t know why.
The world is filled with people and rules,
crazy circumstances and the uniformity of exception.

The where and what for, of arbitrary allowance
to be regulated based on symmetry or fashion
strikes me as odd, beyond survival
and this may explain so very much.

Gravity pulls down equally; discriminates for nothing.
Orbital rotation continues in spite of the fairness of an eye.
The universe supports us without end
but prejudice is our failing
and I blame it on the pretty girls

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 14

DO WE SEE



The old man walked down the road to see the end; I followed to glimpse the fruit of his pursuit. Does the highway come to rest or like the river just feed a greater sea? And time; will the clock stop him? Can he win the treasure hunt as the seconds tick away on the metronome? Will the slowing of his steps and the advancing of his age create a curve, which will prevent his accomplishment? Does this tag-along I am doing make me a part of his project? The road is long and its end may never come, only ours. When we take the road the road takes us. More and less is what we are and so too the road. I follow the contour of the ground, which curves around the world, spinning in our sky so we can all see the stars.

Reality builds contentment, fantasy disappointment.

*


Calm, Peaceful, On



Once I center my mind I can type in the dark.
All it takes is me present and willing to flow.
Limber up the learning curve,
press my fingers to the keys,

Let the story tell its tale.
Cease the interjections lest it all go stale.
There is nothing much to know,
its all inside, I just let it go.

Emptying this crowded vault,
I open up to prevent assault.
What to do when it hits the page;
marketing is all the rage,
but for this task I need a light.
To sell myself I must be bright.

[RockOn]

quoting Sherrie below:
"Reality builds contentment, fantasy disappointment"

For me, this compact bullet statement is powerful when I apply it to my recovery.

Thanks, Sherrie!
Hugs to you, my friend! :)

[Daktari]

I have nine months sober today. -dances-

Awesome!! Go you :cheerleader:

Keep coming back, it's worth it and you're worth it :cheesy:

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 15

GOOSE



I round this corner nearly every day. There in the field stands a flock of problems pecking the ground and flapping their wings. Uniform and regular, the honking and squawking is undistinguishable from yesterday. I ponder and squint; are these the same or yet another gaggle making their way along a migratory path? Trouble is feral, skulking the edges of the field but never sheltering in the yard. I must leave my hands off, knowing these are not mine. The feathers fly and I gather the strays acutely aware of the ticklish nature of this. Awkwardly I face the truth, no matter how much of a perplexity this is to me or to others, it is only geese.


Run because you want to and the starter’s whistle won’t bother you.
*


Crazy Time


Picking the right time to be crazy
seems to be the key to getting away with it.
Wanting to get away with it slants the field a tad.

What crazy is, changes from place to place,
which puts all the more emphasis on the timing.
The surrounding company and barometric pressure,
play parts and put on airs.

Lighting, lighting must also be involved,
I assure you I don’t know how
and can’t calculate the Ohms,
but I flip the switches in case it helps.

I have mapped for you a fair amount more than I know.
I wish you well on your attempt,
for crazy is a kindred club,
I would hate for you to feel inept.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 16

GOOD SAMARITAN PIE


The meal prepared from my cognition, the bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation, roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie, wait on the table to be devoured. The courses pass and come dessert my kindly intentions are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting. I can, with dollop after dollop, cover the requisite desires of this tart in an attempt to deny my addiction to fixing or I can serve up the plain truth. I help and help and wander down roads looking for lost puppies to return to their homes. I must admit my longing to lend support is sometimes half-baked, and if kept to home and hearth it might serve me better and make a sweeter dish. Assistance is best in proportion to the meal. I must live my life and save my pie till last.


Hold each other's hands but explore.
*
Touch Your Toes


Funny how we deal with feet.
I have seen a woman cradle hers
and treat it like the dearest babe.

I know some folks who shun their feet;
can barely stand to think of them,
let alone to touch them.

There are the Mani-Pedi people
who leave it in the hands of others.
I met a guy who soaks them soft
and tucks little bits of cotton
under the corners of his nails.

I know too,
the woman with the snarling crusty dogs
that serve to others as a warning.

My grandma warns me
not complain about my shoes
lest I meet the man who has no feet,
but I doubt I would fit in his.

[Daktari]

Hey-up you batty, addictive types of Gotham I needs me some advice/suggestions from folks who're more sensible than I.

I heard recently that a long time acquaintance told mutual friends, who happen to be two of my closest friends, a malicious lie that she's possibly heard as gossip. How else she may come up with it I can't fathom. Apparently I was carried out from a college friends wedding, a couple of months ago, because I was leglessly drunk. :blink:

My immediate reaction...I don't really do thoughtful, measured responses...was to confront the two college 'friends' - the bride and maid of honour - to ask why on earth they would even tell this person such a big a fat lie. Context - both college folks know said acquaintance after working together at a local kids theatre group.

However, another college friend - the dude I'd gone to the wedding with and who I went back to the wedding festivities with after a fellowship meeting - suggested I ask the person who gossiped to my close friends, where this came from, because he's convinced that the bride and maid of honour wouldn't be so horrid and I concur. It's hard to believe they would say such a thing. Especially as it is so very far from the truth.

I haven't done anything about it since asking for advice in a meeting...sadly the only advice forthcoming was from the one person I know that could make giving me the benefit of her experience, strength and hope, all about her and how hard life is for her and I was left none the wiser :|

It's a couple of weeks since I heard that this thing has been said and addict-brain keeps pick at the scab :seeingstars:

So, whaddo I do?

Step one tells me I'm powerless; over people places and things. I have no control over what folks think or say about me. It shouldn't matter who said what to who. Step two tells me that by connecting with my HP and asking for direction I stand a much better chance of responding sanely............then I'm in unknown territory, I've only shared the last of step 2 this week. :cheesy:

Addict-brain screams out "...I want to duckin' know why this person holds such a bloody grudge and has done since she 'took sides' with an ex of mine (that she'd met twice) almost 9yrs ago" and why she's always prepared to believe the worst about me. We were actually friends once upon a time until Evil Edna got in the way.

Recovery-brain keeps it simple and says don't sweat the little things. This is so inconsequential. It's not all about me! There are better things to channel the obsession to :winky:

Was that a penny dropping? By jove! I think I might have answered myself :cheesy:

Anyhoo, this is the bit where you lot come in with your sage words of experience and advice.

I thank you in advance :chaplin:





ps. After typing all that out I realise just how loony my addict-brain is. :groucho:

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 17

POPCORN FLAVORED LOLLIPOP


I can’t know it. I can’t believe it. The world of popcorn flavored lollipops is now being visited upon me. Both a surprise and a comfort, a popcorn flavored lollipop is given to me by the gas station attendant. A blast of sugar and salt waken my tongue. What can a mind do in the face of a buttered, salted bonbon on a stick? I wouldn’t have thought of it, not in a million years. This is somehow a source of hope to me. There are open-minded people living in the world around me. I often pray for creative thinking on the part of my Higher Power; I inadvertently dismiss the populace who is producing prodigies of ingenious originality and cunning. I want the world to be gifted with what sobriety has given me. Candy is not world peace but many great things start with a little sweetness.


Real rules can’t be broken.
*



Not My Best Friend

No matter how tightly I hug a lump of coal
I will not prevail in turning it into a diamond.
Some days I accept this better than others.

My desire may affect the coal,
but this affect is not diamond producing;
though it is stress producing.

I know it stresses me and chills me to the bone.
I had thought of coal as warming,
but the disparate love of coal proves to be anything but.

I have pinned my hopes
on what this lump had the potential to become
rather than acceptance of what it is and now.

I see I must light my own fire
and know the coal is not mine.

[LeftWriteFemme]

Hey-up you batty, addictive types of Gotham I needs me some advice/suggestions from folks who're more sensible than I.

:groucho:


I sure do identify. I have had someone with longer sobriety than mine spreading all kinds of vile accusation about me to my friends. it was shocking and painful. I am in the same place about it as you. Why would anyone lie about me? It seems crazy and the conclusion that I've come to about it is that it is crazy! Hurt people hurt people and I can't stop that. The only thing I can do is not be the one lying about people or hurting folks and the rest is out of my hands. I wish you all the best with this. my advice is surround yourself with good clean and sober individuals. I like to listen to comedy revenge music, it makes me laugh and laughter helps a bunch. Have a good evening my wonderful Brit! :kissy:

[DMW]

Thank you! I'm proud of myself!

As Always...Thanking LeftWriteFemme for her steadfastness and dependability to keep this here everyday. I don't get in here enough..that is on me...but,
glad that it is here.

Takehimaway....the 90 day...big big BIG deal. Some of the hardest times.

Me, i did a 90 in 90....more like a 360 in 90. I am due for more of that. It is
refreshing to say the least.

I remember my first 90...wow...it was awesome. One of the greatest times in my life actually.
Some personal discoveries...Chocolate is not overated...it is actually mentioned in the bigbook. Now, wishing that i could direct you right to that page. It is there. Maybe you know where? The other thing is that...i always had to have water in the beginning. That physical deal...and it was good for me.
Freds story (i dig) ...we are only really 90 degrees away from
losing the gift of sobriety that we were given. Yeah, we gotta work.
But, Fred reminds me of what a gift sobriety is...and how easily we could
lose it. Page 39 Also, that not everyone gets the opportunity to get clean and sober. And some that do get the opportunity and stay sober...lose it anyway.

Easy Does it...but, do it.

Congratulations :hangloose:

DMW

[DMW]

[QUOTE=Daktari;718037][COLOR="DarkRed"]Hey-up you batty, addictive types of Gotham I needs me some advice/suggestions from folks who're more sensible than I.

Hi Daktari, i am coming from a place of assuming that you did not do this
based on what you wrote.

First off...gossip is gossip. we can't control what other people do.
why would we want to? we discover the truth about who people really
are, and how people really act or react, when we let them be themselves.


My job is to not react. And God i do sometimes. I regret when I do that if
I am not kind about it.

Remember the rule in difficult situations...don't say anything, unless it is;
Kind
Necessary
or True?
I remind myself of this(more often) when i am spiritually fit. BLAH

Your true friends are the one's that will not judge and be open and honest...
will come forth with their questions. Or, if it is so troubling to you..which.. i do not fault you one bit. You can go to them and talk to them. Ask them where does this come from and why would someone say this about me if it wasn't true. If there is someone you respect so much and honor the friendship you have with them...personally, i would need to talk to those
people that i respect and care about and value their friendship. I would need to know if they did and why. If it winds up that they lied...that ugh that hurts. Ask them why? And just remember that we don't always perceive people the way that we think we do. Lies are so harmful and generally stem from fear, pain, jealousy and hate.And lies can be forgiven if they were not meant to harm you. You know. Ugh, hard topic.

The other, really, important thing to note is this....
Give that one away..to God or the wind or whatever works for you.
We can't control others and don't need to depend on what they think
of us as more important than what we think of ourselves and know for ourselves and about ourselves to be true. We can only control what
we do. We are our own actors...we do not control or direct the play or the other actors in it.
Thank God.

Step one also tells us that we are powerless over people places and things.

Cheers and hope my response does not offend in anyway.
Gotta Scoot and thanks for asking for advice. It helps me too.

Experience, Strength and Hope

DMW

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 18

WATER PROOF



What could water prove anyway? I get in the water and I get wet. I’m sure there is a theorem but a proof is highly doubtful. Naiads dance with tridents in their hands illustrating the beauty and danger of the waves but this certifies nothing. Juiceless arid dirt can make no claims either. I see the ducks take flight pushing the air with their wings and the rivulets trailing from webs. This is the thing to scoot beneath at the surface, take sustenance and pleasure, but never to become so saturated that the air is lost. Waterproof… is the way to go.


Give preconceived notions a place on the shelf or in the can but no place in your life.
*



Lame

I easily identify the big mistakes of my life,
but fail to recognize or report the little mistakes
that I make, mistakes, which cost me so much.

Repetitive irresponsibility has the effect of water torture;
drip, drip, drip and my peace of mind is worn away.
What can I say of what I refuse to see?

It was there all along like the view covered by the shade.
Who is to blame for not raising the curtain?
It may be me. may not, but I am the one who suffers,
I am the one who misses out.

Missing the opportunity to grow out of these
small deficiencies leaves me with a life long handicap
and I am not just speaking of my blindness,
but also how they make me lame.

[Daktari]

Thanks Sherrie and DMW for your replies. I need to digest and have a little think about what you've said. I'll be back later.




pNaNgMElIeg

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 19

ALMOST TWINS



You and I are more alike than different yet we cannot get along, though I ponder why this surprises me so. A cloud and a watermelon are 98% the same and no one would mistake them in a crowd or expect them to be companionable except in the way of two things existing in the universe. My expectation of liking you for our similarities is set up by my fear that I don’t like myself, but the joke is on me. My dislike of you is not a reflection of anything but time and space. My friends are the people who like me, not necessarily the ones who are like me. The president didn’t like broccoli without slurring its good name and I can dislike you without inferring you’re a vegetable.

Enjoy the approach as well as the work.
*

Scalene


Strangeness is attracting, I don’t try to deny it.
I have looked longingly at oddness
and every skewed thing.

Though I try to divert my gaze the acute angles
draw me back to peer again and again.
Strange attractors have an unexplainable beauty to me.

The wane charisma digs its hooks into my soul
and I carry it off like a burr stuck to my hide.
What does this say of me, I am not sure?

What does it say of the sidelong loves of mine?
Volumes, I think it speaks volumes,
all of it unknown to me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 20

COOCOO’S NEST


I ran away to join the zoo hoping a life contained would calm me. The segregation hit me first; isolated exclusively with those of my stripe drove my thirst for diverse scents and opinion. Next, the monotony of the landscape bore into my brain. The well-meaning effort of the keepers bears the mark of folks who go home at night. The blandness of the food and music lent nothing to the experience, and antiseptic could drive anyone wild. The final blow, the one that struck constantly and coldly, was the stream of observers waiting to be entertained.


Embrace plain tools and fine minds.

*

Home Fires Burning

I have trouble living with myself,
that is why I live with you.
It takes my mind off the things I don’t wish to face.

What I can busy myself within your service
lightens the load of expectation heaped in my DNA
by my Higher Power and Fate.

Worry is time consuming
and I wile away hours fretting over you
and all your unresolved trifles
while turning my back entirely on my life.

I couldn’t be happier to have you,
though from the corner of my eye
I glimpse God packing your bags.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 21

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE


I don’t always know how to get the dog off the baby. The attacks are often sudden and always swift. My shock at the reality delays my response, falters my steps and fogs my mind. What should I do to disengage this assault? What can I do that won’t make things worse? How can I resolve this now? The pain is almost unimaginable but yet all too familiar. It all comes down to ownership. I must admit this baby is me. I have to face facts; this dog is my pet, I have fed, nurtured and groomed him and now I have to put this dog to sleep.


Explore the air not just the dirt.
*


A Thousand Windowed House

I am like a house with a thousand windows.
When I am lit up inside
you can see all the way through;

When I go dark
the reflection of the world around me is all
that is visible when you look my way.

My sprawling mind is what creates this effigy of me.
A tribute when I am well tended
and a fire trap when I neglect my duties.

If I learn to celebrate in all the rooms
this house is my home,
so I must practice; dance and sing in the hallways.

So I can pirouette into the rooms with full voice.
For what is the point of being a house
with a thousand windows, if I don’t live there?

[DMW]

Thanks Sherrie and DMW for your replies. I need to digest and have a little think about what you've said. I'll be back later.




pNaNgMElIeg

Dude...i love this. And the Bob and Tom show...most of them anyway.

Forget revenge...it isn't necessary. You know..." resentment is like
pissing on myself...i am the only one that gets wet." and stinks afterwords.
And has to live with that stink!
Live and let Live.
Thanks for this post.

Cheers,
DMW

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 22

CHANGE IN MENU



If God is drunk we pray for spiritual sobriety and strong sponsorship. If God is sober we ask for these things on God’s behalf and glory in answered prayer. It is amazing that the rain comes down if I dance for it or not. I can get this wonderful recovery just like the rest of ‘we agnostics’, I don’t have to shake your hand, wink my eye or say some special bit of poetry to have it. Just the same way that weather is and changes and deepens so too is my spiritual condition. It is there as I tread this path. I don’t have to mark the rows in my garden for the plants to grow. I wish for God a salad with two forks, we no longer need to share a bottle.

Dance with your skeletons.

*

Harriet Powers


Like a creature with a long tale
told in a hushed voice.
The whispers tell the story
with inflection and innuendo.

I slink away from the mirror
and the disembodied voices it engenders.
Thirty versions of my past spin away from me
in the eddies of time gone and misremembered.

I gather my fragments and tatters;
I thread my needle
and sit to quilt me into the present.

The odd assortment left from all which has worn out
or been pulled apart fit in a pinwheel pattern
and turn toward a better day.

The night is warmer for now I have it covered,
settled and safe, perhaps now I might even sleep.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 23

TRUE VOICE


Some tears pour from my eyes and others from my heart. What once was a head-game and theory is now heartfelt and real. I have grown in my compassion, leaving qualification on the curb. Letters and notice mean so little in the full-out scheme of all the world; like fashion, what is true today, stood on and dependable, is next years joke and off-hand reference. The thump of the muscle deep within me is a compass I can trust. The daily tide of splash and rush can spring water to my face, but what rouses my spirit is much more. I needn’t worry for its receding or discount that it is faithful; it abides with me still and will keep me if I let it. Some sounds ring from my voice; others resonate from within, these are the ones that last.


Aim is as important as a strong arm.

*

Entrée Entrée


I am not one to order an appetizer,
I prefer the main meal.
Even if I carry the majority of the entrée home
I like to have it all there before me.

Knowing there is enough, might I want it,
means peace of mind
and I can relax and eat what I wish.
That’s how much I fear.

Fear opening my mouth to ask for more.
Fear not anticipating my actual appetite.
Fear of having nothing to show for my evening out.

What could it all be like
had I felt free of rules and public policy
that must be carried out in private?

I might never know,
but what I do know is
that I need to overcome this.

Not because of starving children near or far,
not to eliminate the science experiments
of mold growth and wilted lettuce in my frig,

But in order that I have a chance to have my desert
and eat it too
and leave the rest unordered.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 24

RETRO ANTICIPATION AND SUNSHINE


The night after a victory I fret about the blocks. Will my stance be right? Will I leave cleanly? I have been first through the tape. I have won the race but yet I worry how I will start. Had I anticipated a win I might have handled the accolades better. Apprehension has a long half-life and feeds through the night on my gizzard and my dreams. Failure gives homework, there are rewrites and typos, but checkmate leaves an empty board and hands to shake. The long ride home is filled with recriminating thoughts of luck and fortune. By the time I arrive home the win is devalued and no longer mine. I must pry misgivings from the winner’s circle and enjoy. These moments in the sun are just as real as any others.


Draw pictures of monsters, then let them lay.
*


Hey Little Sister

Who pulls the trigger, you or I,
in this Shotgun relationship?
Is it more to the point
if you slit my throat or if I slit my own?

I only ask for the sake of expedience,
rudeness was never my intent.
I know we both wish this dilemma resolved
with due speed and precision where possible.

I am not as concerned with my survival
as much as neatness all around.
I hate to leave you with a mess.

I would tuck my tail and go,
but I have tried that before
and still we end up here.

So lets end this shall we
and hope that there are better worlds than this
to find after we have shattered the sugar egg
we used to live in.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 25

ALCONAUT



Want to learn it fast but not deep? Just go to meetings and listen with half an ear. Call your sponsor only for her birthday and anniversary and tell her about all the things you are not doing anymore but none of the things you are. Skim the books for good quotes that sound impressive when they pass your lips but whose meaning has no chance of passing your heart. Find playmates and cliques, not a home group, and surely not a service commitment. Things fall out of orbit when they run out of juice and you will too. This program is not an air lock on the way to worlds unknown; it is a way to live in the world you know. There is no question that you have the right stuff. The question is, do you want what we have?


Hug your feelings, pat their heads, then let them go.

*


Einstein’s Apple

Time is a player in every play,
forever running forward
even as I try to claw my way into the past.

If I don’t provide a role,
time writes itself in
without regard for my intended plotline.

Like the weather,
time is by turns gentle and fierce.
I must pay attention lest I run afoul of it
and lose my life and limb.

Though time is an arc I see swinging in my mind
it is still the arrow shot
and I am simply the fool with the apple.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 26

HEART HANDED



I pick up the pen in my heart hand and the blood of my soul pours onto the page. The words coalesce and clot into the binding phrases, sealed deals with my spirit's punctuation. Some days it is hard for my mind to keep up; the current is swift and deeper than I expect. The pulse of energy is amazing even to the mind it feeds. Like clouds racing the sky this power brings shade to some and rain to others. The reaction of the moistened varies, some pull up hoods and scurry away, others with upturned faces form a friendship with me. At the level of electrons, we have a molecular bonding, we are forever changed because I have picked up the pen and they picked up the page.


Chain yourself to wisdom.
*


Again Truth


Not wanting to speak the truth
doesn’t change the truth,
truth is funny that way,
it is not affected by my cold shoulder.

I snub it and it stands just the same.
I am the one who bends and withers.
Truth withstands the pressure that I never have,
the force of other people’s disappointment and regret.

I have sympathy or is it cowardice?
I tremble at the power of emotion and truth just carries on.
I do not want to be the truth or stand in its place;
for truth is not a beating heart
and I am too much a feeling creature,
but I will learn to keep the company of honesty and right.

And stand under the arching bough of truth,
because it is a shelter from the winds of change
and I need all the help I can get.

When I am tempted to shun truth in favor of expedience
I will try to remember that life is longer than I think
and if I don’t face the truth now
it is going to be in my face later
when I might be less prepared.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 27

SIZING GOD UP



God doesn’t need to be big. I only look for a big God when I feel very small. I turn to God as compensation for my feelings, as some sort of bolster to brace myself with. I have found when I am diminished in any way, God is tucked in a corner or pocket or drawer. I flee to the great out of doors and find earth, nature and wind but the God of my understanding is proportionate to my mental state. My partner is with me, near enough to hear the fear pour off my skin. God doesn’t run from me to adventures in the wild. I want to escape myself regularly but this is not my Higher Power's defect. I come back to God when I stop running from me. I face my reflection and recognize I am not towered over by a giant God; I am yoked with a power to share the load.


Enjoy the shape of things.
*



Disambiguation


This is what happens when you are stupid,
the same thing which happens
when you are smart yet afraid.

It doesn’t matter what dulls your sword,
your edge is gone.
Due diligence is required to hone it to first gleam,
what will it take to do it again
I don’t know and I rather not know.

If I can do the thing,
the thing which stands in front of me,
do it with whatever will I have
I am better off and stronger for it.

Better than to be the soft hearted genius
sitting in the corner or the soft headed idiot
standing in the street.

Mess is what comes from
retarded abilities or delayed action.
I can smell the problem and yet the lure
of staying is still so strong.

The pull-the push may not do the trick
to get me into a brighter head or willing body,
what works is what mostly always works; hunger.

I have to stop swallowing what is fed me
and go find the truth out for myself.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 28

DON’T BITE


Desperation jumps up, runs around, then drops. If I don’t feed it, desperation burns out fast. I used to buy the advertising, the Horror, the Humanity. The acorn falling on my head convinced me easily. I grew this nut into terrifying despair never realizing if I had left it alone how quickly it would pass. When tragedy comes there is no time for a performance. The whirling splendor itself proves the farce. If I learn to recognize these triggers I might keep from shooting myself in the foot. If I let desperation wear itself out I can stay with the pack. Despondence splinters me and separates me from anything rational but quiet resolve lets me watch the wind twist while I keep my feet on the ground.



Pay your friends in consideration and truth.
*


Winter is upon Us

Spending time away from my clothes reminds me how much I love and hate something which only serves to protect and decorate me. Struggle with necessity, mad opinions about requirements, these are things I lost months and years to in my past and now only find as a sad footnote to the strangeness that is me. I have so much control over how hard I make things and no control over how hard things are. I can not set the weather but I can easily don my hat. Putting on a big pout over needing a hat, ah, well here is where acceptance plays a major role. I do however find comfort in the fact that I am not alone in this, I watch my poodle fret when her hair grows too long and shiver when it is shorn too short on cold crisp days. It’s good to have a fellow quibbler as I pull a blanket over her and slip on my hat.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 29

RELAPSE IS NOT REQUIRED



“Relapse is not required,” said my sponsor, “though at some meetings they make it seem appealing, all that prodigal drunk treatment.”
“Well, so far, I’m living in the blessing of being convinced the first time,” I told her, “plus what could possibly be out there that’s better than what’s in here?”
“That is the point. There is so much out there that is faster and bigger, more dramatic and extreme, but I sure have never seen anything better,” she patted my head and I grinned.
“Since I am winning the first time why would I want to lose?” I add just to overstate her point.
“This is the perfect place for those who want it, and all the rest get drunk, but drinking is not required any more than Santa has to come on Christmas.”

Save pretty words in a jar like candy.
*

Step 3

Remember that this is a surrender to a friend, a thing filled with humor and humility not a thing filled with shame or humiliation. As for regret the only one I’ve ever had about step 3 is that I didn’t surrender earlier. Trying to pull a moose by its antlers across the desert was always a ridiculous endeavor, but a friend will stay close and let you try, always ready to lend a hand if asked, though never stealing the opportunity for me to recognize on my own how foolish I have been. Hilarity ensues as I explain my thinking and turn the project over to a brighter mind and more able hand realizing then; there is no good reason to pull that big thing across that vast wasteland. On the way back we chat about platypus and rhinoceros and laugh at how many strange things seem like bright ideas in the quiet space of even a great brain. I have avoided surrendering fearing the loneliness and defeat. Struggling alone with my torment was lonely; turning myself over to my best friend keeps me in the very best company.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 30

CARGO LOST, CARGO FOUND


I fill the pallet of a new year's sobriety and, when it has been accomplished, make a manifest and strap this pallet with the others on the flatbed of my life. The cargo is secure and weighty; there is ample pressure where the rubber meets the road. I maneuver my rig carefully. I feel assured as I stream with the traffic on the byways. The power and magnitude of my transport prompts in me overconfidence. I fail to realize variation in weather or road conditions can jeopardize my journey. Eighteen wheels make for a poor cantilever when traction is lost and top-heavy wins out. In losing the battle of gravity, inertia and control I realize the past is not a weight I need to haul; all that is necessary is the inventory. I slip the pages into my pocket and walk the rest of the way. I am my only freight.


Medicate with laughter and tears.
*


Can’t Walk Back


I chase my reading list, lose my place, fall down, can’t find my page; suddenly there is a whole library beyond my grasp. I write as fast as I can and so do my fellows the result is more than I can read in three lifetimes. The glory and pain of freedom is the constriction of time. I claw at the minutes but the days slip quickly out of reach. How can I get the great work poured into my mind while still allowing original thought to flow from me? I ask God if I can be reincarnated with my backlist intact but there is no reply. I know in my heart this life is like hang-gliding on the beach; my shoes and socks are left behind and I fly off over open sea. So if we are friends now that is surely grand, but if you want to be my friend later, just take a walk in my shoes.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 31

FAILED SOUP AND DISTRUST OF BURGUNDY



What keeps me coming back to meetings and step work is an abiding mistrust of booze. Despite promises and advertisement, hopes and folklore, I couldn’t rely on drinking to take me where I wanted to go and I surely couldn’t depend on it to keep me there. The struggle is great; the attempt to cling to salvation through decanter is mighty but in the end this joining of my chemistry to other chemistry failed miserably. No matter how I held my mouth, held my head, held my liquor, satisfaction escaped without me and I was left here in the soup of my disillusion and disappointment. Failure to cooperate fully with alcohol lead me to try sobriety as an alternative. I may not always succeed in my recovery, but I can draw dividends on every deposit and use this to build a path to my desires.


Make a private heaven with plenty of windows and doors.
*


Failure of Imagination


The failure of imagination feels worse than it looks; it’s that rancid oily coating on the skin that I abhor. The sweat that appears when sloth becomes a burden, the confusion of an unused intellect, the mumbled acquiescence of a weak will, creep me out of the permission that I wished to offer myself but can not accept. The languishing mind that I left to wither in the confines of my skull requires my perseverance. Falling down, giving up, throwing in terry cloth objects is impermissible, I must pluck up my willingness and apply whatever drops of genius I possess to every muscle fiber I can find. So much has been made available to me and I must return that favor. You see imagination only fails me if I have failed it first.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 1

Lie


Yes, a lie is just a lie, but the truth also has problems. I relay the facts and the words take on a life of their own, leave out the backdoor and walk on down the road. They move to another town and never find time to come back for a visit even though, I am their mother. And woe to the woman who grows attached to credit or recognition for her ideas. These kidnapped prodigies are never ransomed but sold outright and their DNA not questioned or tested.
So, my advice is to love your words in secret and raise your notions behind high walls. If you are ever called upon to share your wisdom, lie. For even if you’re caught the risk is tolerable. Exposure is awkward but then again no one is looking, so, what is there to lose. A lie is just a lie but it stays home with you at night.




Tie a string to the moon



~

THE COWS ARE HIGHER THAN THE HOUSE

I got sober only to end up living in a house
where the cows are higher than the house.
I mean next to my house there is a hill
The hill is surrounded by a fence
The cows are pastured inside the fence
Standing on the hill the cows are taller than the house.

I didn't expect to live in a house where the cows were higher.
I expected normal
I didn't expect the cows at all.
I expected the house but not this house
It's at the end of the lane
It's the one with the rose colored shutters.

My sponsor wants to know why rose colored shutters
Are OK but cows overlooking the house aren't?
I can't answer her
It's just wrong - that's all!
I don't know why she can't understand this
It seems perfectly clear to me.

My sponsor says I am powerless over the cows
And my life is not unmanageable but my thinking is.
She tells me to paint purple cows.
To write stories about worse places for the cows to be
I tell her the tub.
She says write it down.
She's no fun.

I heard in a meeting I should pray for the people
And things I am upset about.
I pray for the cows
My sponsor says the cows see how I live my life
And she is sure the cows pray for me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 2

GOOD AS GOLD


Just because I’m as good as gold doesn’t mean that I win the prize. Doesn’t mean I get my way. Doesn’t mean I gain your heart. Being ‘extra special sweetness and light girl’ doesn’t secure my future. It does prevent me from living my life as someone I don’t like. It contents me to keep my own company. It is a huge improvement over living as the raging fury I once was. Any destination I desire is more readily assessable from this amiable posture; in spite of inexpert yearning. I can breathe past you if must be, walk down the road holding my own hand instead of holding a lung full of air. But I am the treasure. You must earn me never capture me. Appreciate me not devalue me. I’m good as gold. And please know that I am the prize.


Remember yourself as you would an old friend


~


THERE ARE ONLY 23 MORE SHOPPING DAYS LEFT TILL MY NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

Shoppers beware: I have a careful plan
I can juggle these thirty things and keep these twenty people happy
Dig around in the dirt at these three excavation sites
And hold onto my sanity for twenty-three more days.

My sponsor says "Having a plan like that
Means I'm already crazy."
My sponsor says "I don't have to please anyone
But myself, my Higher Power and her."

That can't be right.
What is the point of sobriety if I can't do it all?
She says "I don't even have to please her or myself."
What does that mean?

How can I tell if I'm pleasing my Higher Power?
She says "Shut up and you'll find out."
Great! What a plan, I like my countdown better
Of course I do, It's mine, my countdown, my life, mine, mine, mine.

Maybe my sponsor isn't all wrong.
OK, quiet....da, da, da, ...da, da, OK quiet for real
Hmmmm, I don't, don't know
This isn't working, I can't do this.

Why would I need to stop being me in order to get better?
"Who are you?" she asks, she thinks she's so smart.
I'M THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE.
She says "The eye of the storm is empty and I need to get a life of my own.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 3

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks


I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears. Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by. I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole. I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose. I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target.



Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife


~


DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting
I didn't know the circus was in town
I expected calm, demure, sober behavior
My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.

There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker
There were kids playing among the chairs
Smokers worked the meeting in shifts
Hustling out the back door and smoldering back in.

The side conversations rivaled the main attraction
People dressed for the street not the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no skirt
Was more of a high-wire act then I had ever seen before
Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

"But for the grace of God" said my sponsor
"No" I said "It's a choice, they're sober now."
"Oh yes" she remarked "Weren't you sober when you took on
Every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?"

"I was cutting my chops. They understood."
"Some of them didn't." said she
"Weren't you sober when you dyed your hair red - but only half?"
" I was afraid I'd dye my scalp, so I started lower."

"Yes, but aren't you the one who says sudden hair color change
Is a sign of instability in sobriety?"
"Yes, I do." I replied
"I think you would have fit in well with the circus.
You and your two tone hair but you didn't hear it from me."
"You're mean."
"And what are you being?"
"Judgmental."

"That's my girl, what are we going to do about it?"
"Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough
Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms.
Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL."

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 4

One Singular Crowd


Isolation among the isolators is replete with metaphor and theme. Expectation blithers loudly but is drown by the palpable inevitability of the outcome. I pirouette in a room filled with dancers but we do not touch, we just spin near one another full view but little contact. Yet I hear my heart beating in my ear and know that I am alive. The flush of neighboring cheeks attests to duplicate conditions there. We are moving together sometimes in harmony but other times in antipathy, dependant all the same. We are the army of independent meanings. Individual cases sharing one slender goal but that’s all that we need.



If you can’t find the grape try some jelly.




~

THE BOAT

On my ride home from work there's a boat stuck between two trees
In the middle of a horse pasture
Next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass.
I think the boat is me.

I feel for the boat every time I see it.
Turned on edge, waiting for a river which doesn't exist anymore
And may never exist again
Placed on edge for protection, not comfort.

Although having my bottom rot out
Well, let's just say, might be more uncomfortable
What good will I be even if the river runs again
Since I'm fenced in?

If my Higher Power has a plan
If it includes a river and a fence
If I'm in this plan, me, the row boat
I just don't see it.

Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life
Truth is, I don't want to face the fact, I might float away
Even though I'm supported by two big trees
Even though there is a tall fence around me.

Completely in spite of the fact
THERE IS NO WATER
My Higher Power loves me.
I AM THE BOAT

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 5


Time’s Temperament



Bubbling tides of white water, time roils past me and my protests go unheard. Psychic feedback loops revisit raw moments to me with inopportune exactitude. The beautiful droplets of dawn rain down then evaporate leaving another day’s timeline to fan out before me. The alternating fury and jubilation of passing intervals leaves a challenge, first a question of bend or break, second a call to forecast. Can I flex or will I live in pieces? Shall I look at patterns and strive for harmonious waltz or turn my face from the calendar dreading each trice? Bully or benefactor time rolls. I can go with it or be under it that choice is mine.



Orbit order



~

THE FLOCK

Today I came to a place in the road covered with birds
The nearby field - covered in birds - the trees covered.
As I approached the birds took wing
The flock responded to my presence
Each bird flew - the sky darkened with their flight.

Wave upon wave, boundaries intact
Taking action in the face of obstacle.
The gift of instinct displayed for me as I fly to my meeting
My instinct rehab, I am learning my intuition
My sponsor spoons it to me from the steps.

I suck it down never knowing what it is about the process
That makes me better
Anymore then I know how grain and bugs make birds fly.
I have theories, things I roll in my fingers when I'm nervous.
I get glimmers.

Things my Higher Power sparkles in my eyes for a treat.
In truth, I don't know how, I don't need to know
Anymore than birds need to know lift to weight ratios.
When I respond to life events
When I spend less time self-concerned I am closer to self.

"Aren't we spiritually centered?" Quips my sponsor
"Yes" I reply "One day in a row."
"I'm going for the record."
"That's all the birds have."
"You're doing as well as they." she smiles and pats my back

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 6


Hand Me Down Pain


You have sent a cold thing into my heart it causes my feet to move me away from you. It need not be spoken of this is a thing of ice and lead. Words are no help here action is the only cure. Eternity can be spent with a soul bisected by slivers. Stepping the willing way to joy and freedom seems so unlikely from this frosty local. Make my mind up I must. Close my eyes and move forward. I will leave your pain behind me I hope not to have to leave you.

Kiss tiny pebbles and roll them away



~

HELP FROM STRANGE SOURCES

I cannot get my mind wrapped around the places I find help.
I struggle with believing I have been helped.
I struggle with disbelief at my own resistance.
I am helped daily by many tiny things seen and unseen.
I realize now I was injured by the same tiny things.
When I was misaligned with my Higher Power
The sun rising, the tiny star I circle in this great nothingness
It makes my whole day.
The air hanging around just in case I need it,
Which I often do.
The people who live with me, a mean feat.
The people who work with me.
Those who exist here with me keep my ship on course,
How sweet of them to do mostly right everyday of their lives,
What a help that is.
The whole ecosystem and all the weather
What would I do without it?
But this is on a good day,
On a bad day, the sun is in my eyes and scorching my skin,
The air is too still, or well, the wind is always a problem.
And people, people are an endless plight,
People do things to hurt, annoy and irritate me,
Full intent, targeted to me, my life, my wants destroyed.
Bugs seek me and I am followed by the darkest cloud,
Everyday, all day, lurking.

I AM SO THANKFUL FOR A SPONSOR AND A TENTH STEP

[KCBUTCH]

January 6


Hand Me Down Pain


You have sent a cold thing into my heart it causes my feet to move me away from you. It need not be spoken of this is a thing of ice and lead. Words are no help here action is the only cure. Eternity can be spent with a soul bisected by slivers. Stepping the willing way to joy and freedom seems so unlikely from this frosty local. Make my mind up I must. Close my eyes and move forward. I will leave your pain behind me I hope not to have to leave you.

Kiss tiny pebbles and roll them away



~

HELP FROM STRANGE SOURCES

I cannot get my mind wrapped around the places I find help.
I struggle with believing I have been helped.
I struggle with disbelief at my own resistance.
I am helped daily by many tiny things seen and unseen.
I realize now I was injured by the same tiny things.
When I was misaligned with my Higher Power
The sun rising, the tiny star I circle in this great nothingness
It makes my whole day.
The air hanging around just in case I need it,
Which I often do.
The people who live with me, a mean feat.
The people who work with me.
Those who exist here with me keep my ship on course,
How sweet of them to do mostly right everyday of their lives,
What a help that is.
The whole ecosystem and all the weather
What would I do without it?
But this is on a good day,
On a bad day, the sun is in my eyes and scorching my skin,
The air is too still, or well, the wind is always a problem.
And people, people are an endless plight,
People do things to hurt, annoy and irritate me,
Full intent, targeted to me, my life, my wants destroyed.
Bugs seek me and I am followed by the darkest cloud,
Everyday, all day, lurking.

I AM SO THANKFUL FOR A SPONSOR AND A TENTH STEP

Hey Sherrie-
I am getting ready to do a 4th on my recent breakup and directed to read the 10th as well. meanwhile off to my morning mtg then mtg up with a possible roommate. So I dont have to move.
I am so grateful for this program having a guide through life.
Have a great day my friend

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 15


Comparison Shopping



Cost analysis of the yeas and nays requires a savvy consumer. Every word has a variable price dependant on whom it is spoken to and when it is said. Some words charge compound interest and others pay dividends. Timing and delivery is of the utmost importance. Knowledge of the markets requires constant assessment. The risk to benefit ratio varies widely and the short term verses the long term price can flip the market from profit to loss. Hold my tongue, speak my mind, these must be weighed; the clock consulted and inventories taken. What I say and when can be less a matter of bull or bear than whether or not I can afford to be a sheep.

Tap the wellspring of your heart.

*

FEEDING SQUIRRELS ON A ONE LANE BRIDGE

Cattle-corn spread on a single lane bridge
The Trap, Food or Safety
There are plenty of other choices
My disease sees none of them.
Gluttony and danger the perfect combination
How can I resist?
Why would I resist?
I have to have More.
I cannot depend on my nature
The ability God gave me to survive in my environs
Help must come from outside
And must be wild and dramatic.
Inward help is boring
Too subtle, to tiresome
Where is my image?
Where is my excitement?
How am I going to prove my God worthy?
Without too much
Without perilous risk and rescue
I can't.
I can't prove my God
My God doesn't need to prove anything to me.
I can find my way off the beaten path
Away from the prying eyes of rubberneckers.
No cheers from the crowd are necessary
I have the equipment, it comes standard
When I take the controls
And follow the twelve step tutorial.
I should be able to manage just fine
No Mack truck in my face
As I stuff myself
With ill gotten grain.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 16


Bon


Comfort or motivation these are the two major reasons for building a fire. Sometimes I set it before me other times under me. The warmth can be soothing and the light dazzling, but licking flames move me off the spot like nothing else. Fuel and surrounds contribute to the effect. Mental state and personal company provide dampening or air. How high the flames rise or how long they burn varies widely. Inspiring my passions, my thoughts, my fears the conflagration is an apt tool as long as I don’t go up in smoke.

Try to go sometimes with the grain and others against it.


*

IN THE COMFORT OF MY ROOM

I sit and panic concerning the future.
I have come through Hell
Built a safe and satisfying life
But it will all end soon, I can feel it.

The tide rises in my soul.
The blood red tide of self-doubt and degradation.
I fail to see my strength or intelligence
Hell, I can't even remember the sheer willingness which has carried me this far.

All I see is shreds.
Tattered little bits of my hopes and dreams
Scattered by the breeze of fate.

What is the point of me being in this sweet space
If I'm going to intellectually turn it into a dungeon?
Why set out fluffy pillows
Only to frighten myself daily
With thoughts of their removal?

How can I pray for safety and practice personal terrorism?
My mind is closed to the double-side of life.
I know the destruction but forget the glory.

I have washed ashore in the land of love and support
I need not drag my mind and spirit to the nether world of hopelessness
I've been to the dark places
My task is to warm in the sunlight today.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 17


Hades




There is a strangeness to the dark. A velvety comfort when my paranoia is not alive with ice crystals and contempt. Cocoons of light create hives of life in an otherwise isolating phenomena. Pressing to my skin I can wear the night out as a jewel, a talisman for the hope I dare not share. Pixies and faeries inhabit dawn’s wee hours but the black blank stretch of space is home to things quite different. Unspeakable in their face I allow them to pass. Should I be carried off my return is eminent for half the seeds remain. Not wholly ransomed I live only part time in the sun. When the shadows fall there is the oddness of home I can neither embrace nor deny.

Load the scale in your favor.


*

THERE IS A TREE

There is a tree in the woods
I've seen it.
It was cut off from any visible source of
Strength or sustenance.
Carried aloft by surrounding trees
The splintered trunk dangles in the air
It makes no connection to the forest floor.
I know the feeling
I have been cut off too.
Violently separated from my God, as it were.
I probe the fractured stump at the bottom of my soul.
I explore the crevices
Seeking tendrils of hope.
My anxiety bonds to my frustrations
But faith eludes me.
I look down to the broken place
The view unrealized by me.
I have a vista of unimagined beauty
Provided to me by the growth of others.
I am eye to eye with my peers,
Held in their loving embrace.
I bloom and flower with them.
I endure the winters the same as they
And come spring am stronger for it.
I don't know why I was damaged.
I don't know why I was saved.
I am grateful it is done.

My sponsor says "It's for our sobriety
And the pleasure of your company."

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 18


Between Two Chains





The curving movement half seen sweeps forward and catches me squarely on the chin. Realization glimmers that next time it will strike me in the mouth and I take a step back. I estimate the returning arc, raise my arms, push the board back from whence it came. As it hurtles toward me once more I reposition. Force returns force; fury comes vigorously my way and I thrust with strength and enthusiasm. And this is fine for what it is. I have learned how not to get hit. I can push when I get shoved. How much better will it be when I can get on and swing?


Tie your lose ends into bows.


*

IN THE PRAIRIE

In the prairie there are small fenced cemeteries
Family plots.
The flat expanse of land opens to the eye
Hand carved monuments stand in testimony
To love and service.

In these places grow wild flowers
These places cordoned off
From mechanization and agribusiness
Held in trust are the bones of loved ones
And the soul of nature.

Blue bells, paint brush, lupines
And all manner of reedy grasses.
Deep inside me is a place like this.
The place I have buried my young.
The little ones who died of shame, neglect and hurt.

And I must return, not to exhume the dead
But to pay tribute.
To return with honor and love
Harvest the daisies and buttercups.
Grow them in the garden of my heart.

I can tend the flowers
Which spring from destruction
I can mingle them with the growth of my sober life.
Restore my prairie
To a splendor it has never known.

I can enjoy the bounty
Of saving seeds worth saving
And planting my Higher Powers will for me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 19


What Is A Sheep To Do?



Things are bad out there. I see the trouble as I circle within the flock. Many of us whisper to each other as we pass. How can I create lasting change? Is there something helpful that will not separate me from my precious life, something that will not make me prey to the vultures before I even realize that I’m dead? How can I live and strive while the wolves hold the hilltops? Is the choice merely, one death or the other? Is there an as yet unseen path? Can I find it while maintaining my place in this congregation? What is a sheep to do?

Topple the toys from their bins and play





.
Tea or Sympathy




Tears pouring into the teacup growing cold on the table create a sea of emotions uncharted. If I can not offer sympathy to the contents, the soulless heel that I am, how then do I expect to have a future? If I will tender only meager tolerance toward the spindled thing valiantly trying to beat within me why do I even show my face to the mirror? If shoulders are cold and turned inward then I will collapse into the inexpressive, dismal thing that has been misshapen through misuse and I might as well drink the chilly tea for that’s all the comfort I’ll get. I must do better by myself in order to brew a better world.

Smooth one hand with the other.





*

SOD

Green and black
Pinwheels of rolled grass
Speed by me on a flat bed.

Sod
Headed for home
That is how it is for me.

I grew up in a place of impermanence
A place clearly not my destination
Uprooted and prepared for relocation I am in transition.

My future surroundings unknown
Will be a perfect fit.
I have been anticipated
Grown for a purpose of which I am uninformed.


I have done my part, I am ready to lay down my roots
And become a lawn of seamless expanse
Somewhere my Higher Power is grading a hill
Smoothing the way.

I am ready to take my place
In the landscape
Of sober living and right thinking.

[KCBUTCH]

I have a neighbor of whom the first time we chatted he was amazed that I was going to school to be an addiction counselor and how great it was, while he pulled a mini bottle of vodka from his pocket and drank it
Tonight as I passed him- he bent over the railing in a fuss stating with firm vigor "I have the worst hangover, I'm never drinking again",
to which I replied "sure you're not"...

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 20


Saurian or Dalliance


I love to be mystical, but the only dragon in my life is when I drag on and on. Procrastination is the winged beast in my world. I armor plate the thing, shiny and gleaming, my loitering delay is mightily impressive and you might think it would take flight from the way it postures but departure has been adjourned in favor of misgiving and postponement. I wander through the forest attempting to appear brave and feeling it occasionally while my tale grows longer. I need the fierce face and sharp claws; I can beat the mythology if I will just continue to take action.

Never confuse signposts for guideposts.


*

THE FROG

Stretched in the water
Still
The frog hangs.

The pond is barely a tea cup
Sufficient for communion
Of God and frog.

I watch the frog
Unblinking
Savoring respiration.

In a pond in Maine, I bore the posture
Center-stage
A quarter mile of water all around.

I hold my head above the surface
And feel I am in the eye of Gods creation
Face to face with benevolence.

Peace spars with uneasy smallness
I am a tiny speck, floating in the soup.
I am one organism in a sea teaming with life.

I am a part of
Not protected
But equal to the rest.

Can I bare this reality
The struggle of living
On a web?

Can I live a humble life
Knowing
I am favored no more then the rest?

Can I set aside my need
For preferential treatment
A God given Band-Aid for my multitude of hurt?

"If you can't, you will drink." Says my sponsor
"If I have to live this way I will cry." I respond.
"That is your God given right."

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 21


Guest Flag


The polite thing to do is fly the silly blue rectangle with its equally silly white diagonal stripe. That would be the polite thing, for sure but that would peek my disease’s hold card. If anyone knew that my illness was sailing my ship instead of me the effect would be ruined. Or so says the canker that grips me and steers me to disaster. Announcing this day-tripper as an unentitled accessory to whatever wrong I am about to commit might warn my friends or enlist my sponsor, but no I leave my colors fly and endanger the surrounding water. For in truth my flag is just as fraudulent as this vessel and is only on loan to me as well.

Panoramic inventory shows the landscape in a better light.




*

THE MUSIC

I hear a tinkling noise and look around the room.
No, it's coming from my head.
It's the sound of the music of my life.

The bells, a horn or two
The strings,
Always the strings.

The sharp clear cry of the vixen
Calling from the hedgerow
The lonely voice of resolve.

The melody shifts
Tomorrow's tune warming up
In the wee hours of the night.


I don't try to part my lips
Replication is not a possibility
I am only just learning to move with the rhythm.

Keep the beat in my heart
And draw it down
For my toe to tap.

I cannot sing my song
I must let it live in me awhile longer.
I can't share things of which I haven't had my fill.

Giving too much
Too often
Makes the anthem run thin.

I have to be fully me, to be full voiced.
I need to stew in the juice
Of overflowing harmony.

The pounding of my feet on the steps unite the accord
Wild things and practiced plans
Put forward the waves of life on earth.

I follow
Placing my feet in well worn trends
The dance school reopened for sober living.

Passion plays and calls my response
For today, I pass
I leave the song inside

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 22


Lathhouse



I want to face the sun. I want to stand and the wind to blow. I want the rain uninterrupted on my head. I want to remain upright and unburnt, to prevail amidst it all. Tender stalks and verdant leaves frustrate my anti-social streak. I want to bear the worst without cover or assistance but here I am in the slanted shade of this dynasty. As I grow so does the awareness that even when I am strong enough to leave this sheltered abode I will be relocated to a row where I am never alone.

Dream of a way to paddle a round boat.


*

THE PRIVILEGE OF SUN RISE

I awake happily at 5:30.
I will again see the show beyond compare
In stark contrast to the mornings
I filled with moping or sober angst,
Shades of the same dark color.
I shuck my covers
Bathing and dressing with purpose
And propel myself forward.
I hate to miss the first act.
Down---------------------------
The tint of clouds dusky and sweet
I'm on my route
I start my open eyed prayer.
For all those living at the hands of an addict
Be with them---Please
For the addicts
Help us all to fail----Fast
I scan the horizon
Checking all the views
I reflect on the striking change,
Earth bound green and gold
Sky held pink, orange and blue.
The silhouettes of trees exquisitely lit from behind.
The sweet moon sharing the sunrise with me
Add to the pleasure of my drive.
I start my gratitude list.
Beginning with my sobriety
Each moment.
The people, The life,
The thinking, The feeling
And my ability
To share it all
With You

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 23

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.”


Why do turnips look like tops and turnip tops look like greens?


*

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 myself and others.

I learned 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 things that matter.

I am 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

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 24



The Max Factor



I apply foundation and rouge to make up the difference between reality and expectation. My composition is unexamined by onlookers; appearance is the subliminal standard bearer. My brave face is plaster cast as an estimation and a singularity. Powder gives and takes power; builds a glass ceiling then a glass floor. What I owe my mind is more than what I allow its representation to be. I am made up to a spot on the wall from which I can not move, all because I wanted to put my best face forward.

Cuddle up to curiosity

*

LIFE AS AN ELM



I stand tall
My bark sloughing elongated rectangles
Great bunions of wood protruding
Giant bubbles of tight grain grown in reactionary curls.

These tumors born of abuse and endured in maturation
Are harvested in recovery
The burden of them severed from me
By the sharp teeth of truth.

Sectioning these masses
For purposes of inventory
Allows the twisted and deformed wood
To become dry and constructive.


I inlay the contorted sheets of history
Into the panels of the doors AA built for me.
The doors built to exit hell
Which gave me access to the world beyond.

I stand in the woods
Reaching the sky
Sinking deeply in the underlying spring
Surrounded by the joys of reality.

Things unseen in my pain
Consumed
Blister covered life of addiction
Life was a forest of one.

The wind hit me
The snow fell on me
The drought
Affected only me.

Today, lightened by the loss
Of my inappropriate growth
I grow together with my sponsor,
My group and the We.

I can accept shade and shelter
Also offer it.
The bugs and parasites meet
With the resistance of communal health.


My disease
Has no harbor,
Not in my bark,
Not in my heart.

Today
My program
Strips me of my disabilities
And makes me strong in camaraderie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 25



Responding to Response

Thankfully I’m not in charge of what is so freely given in this program. I want it to be available, but I want gratitude to be the universal response. At first I thought I couldn’t understand how anyone could hold this gift in their hands and not feel grateful, truth is I know exactly how that’s done and I don’t want to look at that ugly thing. “Cunning, Baffling, Powerful” But they left out how repulsive it is, maybe they didn’t want to see it either, or thought it was self-explanatory.
No matter which, I’m glad I am not the arbiter of the flowing fount that is recovery, I might have been tempted to cap and meter it, killing all the beauty and wild randomness that makes it real and true. I despair that others don’t recover as I recover and yet I am relieved that I didn’t have to drink as they drank.
I have to see those around me well enough to stay out of their traps or follow their leads, whichever is appropriate, but I don’t have to adjudicate their reply.

Pick up sticks and put downs stones

*

THE BUTTON BOX

I go to my button box
To sort out my life.
I lay out the matching sets
The various sizes, shapes and colors.

Coat buttons are commanding
But unsuitable for delicate places.
The tiny pearl buttons with shanks pull my attention
But work well only on silks.

The metal, shell and horn buttons
Come from such far off places
And all end up crossing my table
As I try to see clearly how to stick with the winners.

I know the people represented in this box.
The strong, the loud, the beautiful.
I know the weak and the unique,
The ones of special circumstances and occasions.

I come to the realization the simple ones,
The buttons sewn on the inside,
The ones who silently give strength
And support to the large and the small alike.

The ones which come in every shade and size,
Who match their ability
To service they render others,
These are my favorites.

They make secure all the things I love and trust
Flat and unobtrusive these buttons
Hold fast the fabric of my life.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 26


A Living Love




What I love about the program is that it is a living thing, like me.
It is not perfect, it is growing and changing, adapting and correcting for each experience and need. AA is a life into life process and saves me because life begets life, no matter what I was told. The answer to life is living and I get to see that being done by everyone from newcomer to old-timer each at his or her personal ability. I am allowed to dangle my feet, wade, tread-water and swim, all under the watchful eye of loving support and critical pretender. Difficulty is not removed nor is the way made smooth, but I am no longer without a thread to hold. I love the web I help weave myself into and feel protected from the spider of my addiction because together we are living proof.


Bear Grace


*

DEEP IN THE SEA

Under the mirror
There is life
Under what I reflect to the world
I am a world apart.


I smile sweetly, political in my response
To confrontation and conflict
Deep, deep in the sea, is a current of sadness
I can't always shake.

Pain is the past
But it's there like a moray
Lurking to strike aimlessly, pointlessly
At the passersby.

The ripping teeth
And the cold stare
My terror
No way to escape it.

I focus on the topside
The reflective part of me.
I keep as clean
And free as can be.

I stick to my business
List my goals and make plans
The water runs cold
Then hot beneath.

I carry the steps to this underwater grave
Trying to inflate the rubber skin of god
But No
There is no life in the god of my understanding

Or maybe there is no life.
For the character the drowned balloon represents
The sea is bigger than me.
The life stronger and more abundant.

The sky it reflects as vast as liquid
I swim
There is a Power
And it doesn't need that comic book face.

Safety is not the requirement
That can be granted.
Lack of safety does not end my life
It does not end God

[oksoftbutch]

LeftWritefemme - I have read only a small portion of your work. However, when I have, I feel so many emotions in the few moments I read. The only thing i can say when I have finished reading is.....WOW! Thank you. :)

[LeftWriteFemme]

LeftWritefemme - I have read only a small portion of your work. However, when I have, I feel so many emotions in the few moments I read. The only thing i can say when I have finished reading is.....WOW! Thank you. :)


Hey, that's so kind, thank you so very much! I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment on my post. Hope you are having a great day, you just made mine!

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 27


Simplicity Itself

My life runs at a Gilbert and Sullivan pace, with about as much sense and comic relief. You say 'keep it simple' and my disease says 'why ruin a good play?’ The truth is this is not play at all but a work that consumes my life from me and doesn't thank me for my time. Simplicity for me requires respect, a gift I selectively give myself; a gift that I often use only as a shield during battle. My past method of increased self-respect is life in a war zone. This is no solution. Release of grief, this is the onerous path I avoid taking. Purging the wrong thinking and action of others from my blood, my eyes, my skin, allows me to lift my chin and square my soul to plumb and level living, don self-respect as a birth right and set a calendar fit for plausible life, a simple life.



If you are not a hero in your own home you are not a hero


*

HIDE AND SEEK

I have sought You
High and Low
But like the rain
You have always found me.

I like a cold, wet cat on a winters day
Peer into warm lit windows
Hoping
You will be home.

I seek to keep moving
You find me for some unknown reason.
I have given up
Naming You.

I trust You know who you are
In spite of the fact I do not.
You are places I don't know
Doing things I think better of.

Citing the list of errands I daily make for You,
Not to beleaguer You
But the unfinished list of history
Trails out of my pocket.

I worry I may possess
Your only copy
Of this Injustice List.

There have been days of peace
Days I don't think too much.
Days I turn away from
My history lessons and future projections.

My ultimate problem is with the equal sign
I run the numbers and it figures inequity.
I check my calculations and shake
The calculator of my mind.

Deeply, I fear
You're a one god
And do not comprehend
The implications of zero.

If you multiply with only things above naught
You may be unaware of nothingness.
The empty things I feel
When I can't seem to find you.

Self-possessed - insensitive of the cipher
Your dimensions stay positive.
Bring me into Your realm or join me in the void.

I seek You
But You have found me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 28


Sponsorship




Right now, as I think of sponsorship, I think of all the things I have done wrong. Times when I was not understanding enough and times when I was too understanding and enabling. Sponsors I chose for ulterior motives and the ones I didn't challenge when they wandered away. I search my mind for the ingredients that were in the mix when things went well and the dominant component was willingness, mine and theirs. Whether I was sponsor or sponsee, willingness overrode ability, determination and love. We had to come to the table willing, this was never something we were able to cook up or construct. Nor is it something I can always hold onto, sometimes willingness evaporates or slips away like sand in a clenched fist. The permanence and impermanence of sponsorship awes and frightens me. Like a guidewire twisted from many strands none of which reaches from end to end I worry about the unraveling but depend on the strength.


Expectations are incubating resentments

*

THREE TOYS FLOATING

I bat the ducks across the surface of my bath.
Soaking is supposed to calm me,
I'm waiting.
I assure you, my impatience is no help to this process.

These yellow, tub-bound misfits, grinning at me
Don't fill me with the joy of living either.
I have blown bubbles until I'm blue
I smell like a French elevator from the bath oil.

My hair is stiff with conditioner
My face packed with mud.
"Do the right thing." Said my sponsor
She is such a pain.

Here I am, bubble bath to my arm pits
And not a hint of peace
Her question rings,
"What do you want?"

But isn't it obvious, if I knew that
What would I be doing
Wrinkling in this swilling vat?
I wouldn't.

I would be out doing my thing.
Whatever, that thing is.
How I'm going to figure myself out I don't know
And, She, is no help (you know who She is, She is the sponsor lady)

So what do I want?
World peace, a clue, maybe just a hint
But I know part of it
I know more than I admit.

I want Sobriety and Happiness,
Dignity and Respect
Enough time to do these things
And Love.

"Well" says she, those things are easy
Work the steps, then the traditions,
Practice them, do service
And take the advice you give your own sponsees"

I stick out my tongue in her general direction.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 29


Inertia

in•er•tia
n.
1. Physics. The tendency of a body to resist acceleration; the tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest or of a body in straight line motion to stay in motion in a straight line unless acted on by an outside force.
2. Resistance or disinclination to motion, action, or change
This force is real; the laws that govern it act on me for well and ill. When I’m on a roll it’s hard to guide me and like the girl with the curl; when I’m stuck, I’m very, very stuck and it’s awful.
I am bound by this reality and go or stay according to what is set in motion or stopped, but what about ‘the outside force’? Am I in charge of summoning ‘it’ or is ‘it’ summonable at all? Will ‘it’ obey like the dog, or obey like the cat? Or is ‘it’ more random than the rain? Can ‘it’ be lured or tempted or does ‘it lure and tempt me? And the biggest questions on my mind: Is ‘the outside force’ also subject to inertia? Are we in this together? What is ‘its’ outside force? Might it have something to do with me?



Wash one pain at a time


*

NURSE

What if the word God is like the word nurse?
What if the person is only the simple meaning?
The actor doing the service
The plain act, uncontrollable from my end.

What if my active part of God,
Is the same as my active part of nurse?
What I draw down, how I schedule myself
To be ready when the milk arrives.

How I pull and am satisfied
Digest and draw again.
Like the sea laps at the shore,
The moon tugging it all the while.

What if God is about my hunger,
Satisfaction dependent on finding a suitable teat?
Maybe this is why, when it comes to God
Much of what I do, is cry.

When faced with my need, I open my mouth
Finding only two possible responses,
Suck or Scream.
My aching consumes me and I don't know how to calm myself.

I look for the caretaker, the person, the deed.
I need sucker but never look for the breast.
I am the child of God.
I must learn to draw God in

[KCBUTCH]

meeting day 1230 away. have a grateful day :)

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 30


The Was and the Is


The Silent Scream that existed as a placeholder for my G-d was incomprehensible to me. I entered AA and was informed that understanding my Higher Power was required not just some far distant goal. In true alcoholic form my first move was to shun G-d. This made room for my rage which was in much need of the space. After a few fine years of dissipation I lost interest in incendiary devices no matter how large their detonation capacity. Having cleared the room I brought in G-d as potted plant. I talked to it occasionally, watered and fed it, mostly ignored it. Growing in spite of lacking ministrations G-d was an unobtrusive force living in the corner changing gas into air and demanding nothing. As I quelled my apprehension and lived with the Presence I looked, listened, probed and questioned the subtle Force sharing the room. “Add it up,” chanted the children in my ear, “run the numbers, settle the accounts.” I calculated proofs and discarded the faulty and inaccurate. What was left, the whole, not the remainder was mine to keep, but it was not everything. I haven’t an everything G-d, because I am not a nothing person. I am something and G-d is something too. We are complimentary, like pairs of angles who come full circle.



Show the sun the souls of your feet


*

TRUST

You can trust people to be who they are.
I am a different being in relationship to different people.
To some I am the center of their constellation,
The sun burning bright, I 'm all they can see.

To others I am the moon,
Orbiting them, silent and dedicated.
With another group, I am a comet streaking through the sky,
Seldom seen but well remembered.

For many I am a distant star.
One among the multitude, blending in the night with the other signs.
Then there are the folks who see me in a more down to earth way,
I am the dirt beneath their feet.

The farmer sees me as a plant to be tended.
The cowboys view me as a horse to be broken.
To fisherman I'm a catch.
I am what people want to see.

So what can I trust them to be?
Wrapped in their own worlds
Yes, mostly I guess,
None of my business in the end.

I watch them and learn what I want to do, who I want to be.
In large part by avoiding what I see them do.
I do trust people to serve as bad examples, often
And good ones infrequently.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 31

Principles before Personalities............and gratitude!


As with everything I have to be careful of how I infer meaning. You say ‘Principles before Personalities’ and I hear, Their principles and Their personalities, immediately I’m on a tear. How different if I think of ‘my’ principles and ‘my’ personality. When I face it this way it is reflexive; I embrace my principles and my personality falls into step. I am safe and sane therefore gratitude follows just as the topic suggests. Good orderly direction is elegant when I don’t reverse direction. There is an obvious way to pet the cat when I accept that we get along fine, when I don’t………well, need I say more?




Books open minds, music opens hearts


*

WHEN I WAS YOUNG

I'm sure it will come soon
A time I can be carefree, innocent.
Worn and weary, I slog through the painful
Over awareness of what was considered my childhood.
What can I do but hope things will get simpler as I age.

My sobriety takes years from my face.
Lines slip from me and I feel the weight lift from my shoulders.
My tender branches twisted with the constant force of wind
Bud and flower in the shelter of recovery
Holding them in their own embrace.

Colors seep to the windows of my mind
Forming pictures and carrying me to a new world.
Limpid pools, a place I dive, as I look to the mirror.
Serenity a rebounding of life fills me
And I am the gentle girl I missed so long.

Longing for my loveliness, I cry at the sight of my baby one.
I have not yet taken my place on the swing
But I have been down to the edge of the playground
And run barefoot in the sand.
I will be who I was to be, it's late but it's better.

I know well enough
To enjoy it as it comes
Treasure it for every sweetness.
I will come into my youth

[Daktari]

Wow! One whole year and looking forward to year two.







I shall be back later.

[oksoftbutch]

Congrats....Here's to the second year one day at a time....:surpriseparty:


Wow! One whole year and looking forward to year two.







I shall be back later.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 1


Know Enough to Clap




If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands, but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then? Will my face display tell tale signs without whispering a word of it to my mind? Will I whistle a happy tune therefore revealing my inner state? If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist? Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion condemn me to remedial society? Is there any other society? If I become well enough to reflexively feel and exhibit my mood will I graduate to the advanced class or be forever alone no longer having a place amid the emotional head bangers, hair twirlers and cobweb pickers? Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation or confusion with a crowd? Could I know? Should I know? Would I know? Who knows?


Iron your will



*


THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.
No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly
In the end, if you don't land, it's a fall
And if you do, a flight.

How we begin seems of ultimate importance
But is seen as a farce in the face of ruin.
The most promising of starts can be sucked ground ward,
Compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through lack of humility.

Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal
Are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat.
Willingness is my aileron
It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain.

It smoothes the gusts of life which forever blow in my face
And willingness brings the ground up to meet me.
All I have to do is be willing
And stick out my feet.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 2



The Inside Half


I have drunk deeply from the glass set before me. I’m not entirely sure that I am half way through, but I am into it a goodly bit. I would be happy to have another 19 years; nineteen more hours would be a gift, too. That glass might be half empty but I am at least half full and I am amazed! I am regularly stunned by the prodigies this half trek has born to term; equally dazzled by how quickly the generations compound in this painstaking construction. Development both internal and assembled surpasses my wildest imaginings. Amazement is my most constant companion, more than gratitude and as of late even outstripping willingness my most trusted ally. Shock has been replace by wonder, bewilderment with surprise, I am fortified with these feeling realities and look happily to finishing the rest of what is in that glass.




Turn left into your right mind




*



DUCK TONGUE

Trying to get out of myself, I travel to an Asian fish market and grocery
I had heard has very fresh fish.
Greeted at the door by thirty large and lively tilapia
Swimming in their tank,
I felt my mood lift.

The captured beauty gave me pause.
Shiny and silvery, the faces banged at the glass
As they tried to get a better look at my entrance.
Like passengers packed on a subway car,
The fish jockeyed for position near the glass.

Further inside, I see the wonders we have extracted from the sea,
Cuttlefish, conch, squid, mussels, clams,
Whole fish of every stripe.
My belief in a power of diversity strengthens
And I smile.

Leaving the seafood section, I head forward,
To the refrigerated cases of other types of meat.
Frozen pigs tail, fowl with feet on, the novel variety pleasing.
When I approach the trays neatly filled with rows of chicken feet
I break out in a grin.

Thoughts of soup and days gone by flutter through my mind.
Finding formed foam piled with layer after layer
Of ducks tongues was my limit
Spinning in my mind,
Who? Why? Oh no!

But in the end I came to care
About how these minuscule flaps of leather
Were placed.
The person whose job is done well
And to the fact people are just people.

We do what we do.
For reasons unimagined to the rest
And we do it,
With full faith
And hopeful breath.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 3


Today’s Math


Today is 12/06/06 this is an equation to me, 12 = 6 + 6, simple; not everything is, but math always works for me. My Higher Power is math based and one of my major decision making tools is to run the equation of the presenting situation. There are many constants in my life and those numbers are easier to calculate the variables often prove more difficult. Scalable problems allow for my Geometry. Proofs are a comfort when I can get them. Set Theory is what I settle for when I can’t. I try to show all my work and have others check my calculations. I can’t tell you how often a simple error in addition or subtraction has fouled my whole equation not to mention my equilibrium. In conclusion I would like to say it is now 12= 9 + 6 and somehow I’ve lost three days, or did I gain them? See how tricky the signs are.



Put misconception up for sale


*

HOW LIKE THE MOON

I show the shining bright face to the world
But cannot enumerate the dark.
I change and turn for all to see
Glowing sliver, to full fledged smile.

I inventory all phases
Can tell you from wax to wane
But the darkness, the anchor to my lonely life
I can only guess.

I feel my way across the unknown topography
Searching with fingers and faith
To find the secrets
Of this magic nightmare.

And What? What is the thing to break it?
Hope, Reverence, A detailed map
Or is the darkness just a fact,
Part of the big equation, the equalizer of the light?

If this is so, how best to live with it?
Continue the search or post barriers,
Go ever forward looking for an answer,
Endear myself to the void?

The choices are always mine
The way seldom clear.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 4


What is “Offender” Number 2?

I’m not looking for trouble, really I’m not, it’s just that thanks to this program I’m no longer plagued by resentment, but I doubt that is the only stumbling block there is. Possibly the remaining list is as divergent as the alcoholics who make the lists. Though I am guessing we have more in common than that one thing. I stare at the various and sundry bric-a-brac measuring potential harm and formidability, so many candidates with razor edges. I take my combat pose as I lift the pen, wondering if giving things status also gives them power. I take comfort that acknowledgement is empowering for me. Tell me the weights you lift to strengthen your “Spiritual Muscle” the things that crowd behind resentment vying for their turn as perpetrator of downfall and misery.




Poetry in motion is like a marching band with words



*

THE FORGOTTEN

I am not Cleopatra.
I am not in denial.
I forgot.
"Sure" says my sponsor
"I've seen the headdress."

That's not fair
I've heard women say they forget the pain of child birth.
"They're kidding, you can't just forget pain,
It's there waiting in the wings,
Looking for its fifteen minutes of fame."

"You will be the worse for it" she say with her smug way.
What if I can't drag it forward?
"Honey, Baby, Sweetie, you need to let those things come up,
Before they drag you back to a drink
Or whatever your new addiction of choice is."

"Just open your mind,
You might be surprised what is waiting to see the light of day."
What if it kills me?
"Darling, you're not that lucky,
You don't get to escape through death either."

"Lean into this and you will get through it faster
Hold onto the program and you will get through easier,
Fight it and it will tear you up."
Always the optimist my sponsor.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 5


More Than Less



There is a difference between doing G-d’s will and winning, though some times they look the same. Skin deep appearance or monetary prowess share no border with the will of G-d, but these can stack as transparencies seeming invisible to the uninitiated practitioner. The organs exist and blood flows in the living thing and the shell is hard, lifeless; though it glints. Success can be the mantel of right compliance or the shroud of something deadly. I mustn’t be pushed or pulled by the desire of accolades or acceptance, nor shall I flee into a trap for fear of ridicule or rejection. The lacerations of emotional infliction, unloving judgments and imprudent fallout cause me to flinch in the face of changing focus and relinquishing hope of control. I am powerless over everything and responsible to everything. Anything else is incidental and with loving help will work out if I do not panic. Ah, to love myself as G-d loves me.



Control is an illusion I perpetrate on myself

*

THE THRONG

The more people I meet, the more vehemently I do not believe in God.
The tidal wave of human ignorance hits me
And the sheer and repetitive force of it
Is more than my single souled craft can bear.

Cyclical, coincidental tragedy, coupled with purposeful meanness
Barbed with arrogance and misaligned fear
Hold my child's faith under a scalding bath of realism
What to do, I do not know.

The fragility and perniciousness of life war with each other,
Though loss wins out.
What can I use to keep myself from withdrawal
To despondent hibernation?

Looking for glimmers of goodness in the sea of overwhelming depravity
Is not cutting it with me.
Mystery as an explanation
Is not working either.

I am not a retarded five year old.
I am a despairing thirty-eight year old
And I am tired of game playing and coyness.
I want God to arrive, not with explanations, but solutions.

I am not looking for a punishing parent
To send errand persons to bed without supper.
I am looking for the equation of repair,
The dance steps to healing.

I am yearning for global twelve step,
A universal attunement
And galactic spiritual awakening
And by the way, I want it now

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 6

Two Powers


The river and the bridge; one force swift and roiling the other stolid and stoic, the first carries me away and the other carries me over. For the love of liquid, current and life I have slipped in to the water and washed; my life abandoned. For love of upright contact, terra bound movement I cross the bridge. Will I be deposited in the Ocean or wend to the City and back? Where is the greater power in Surrender or Choice?




Ignorance and greed are the same thing aren’t they?




*

THE SEAMLESS DOOR

Tongue and groove fit tight.
The pickled boards belie the passage.
Hinges buried deep
Secreted inside the place with no words.

The door remains shut, hidden.
The air, candy sweet.
The space, filled with the unbroken stream
Of surreal childhood.

What can I tell you of this living snapshot?
Nothing but haltings
Stops and shutters
Of a life encapsulated.

Proudly, I walk from this train wreck
Only to find the tether stitched
To my heart,
My soul, my mind.

Flashing through the room,
I weary and wonder.
I have often found myself outside this confusing destination
But never have I seen the door.

Always, I believe this time I am free of it.
When I find myself again within this realm
I know it is something
I cannot be parted from.

Then what of the door?
The undetected portal
Was spied by me one day
While it swung in the breeze.

I saw the simple barn
And the open loft door.
I never thought my incubus to be housed
In so plain a construction.

There the turmoil of my forward motion
Stored in the attic of the pony shed.
So may tragic contrivances
Are stored in such candid spots

Accessibility is the beginning of approach.
I take the stairs.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 7

From Pen to Progress



“Leave those gaters in the paddock awhile longer,” said my sponsor.
I gave a little better than a cursory glance at the hulking forms though I did stay strictly on my side of the fence and grasped tighter the hand of my custodian. The once over worked fine as my first pass through the creatures of the swamp, I didn’t fully grasp what lay beyond the petting zoo, but given my newness this wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
On second run I was in a boat with a glass bottom and a guide, I had vision, clarity. Third time through was a charm, swim fins and a rope tied about my waist, it was all too real. I floundered and had to be hauled bodily by my home group, my sponsor stood anchor.
I have numbered and charted these murky waters now and I see the lure they have for my ailing, twisted mind; the intensity of the brutes awash and the dark calling to dark make that sick sense that only an alcoholic can parse. I have to take to those by ways with supplies and reinforcements. Never swim alone!





Hand in hand is the best way to get anywhere



*

CONSERVATION OF LOVE

Love does not diminish
It recycles like the rain
Ever in transition and transmission

Love is not salvationary or redemptive
Nor do I believe it to be the currency of Godliness.
Love is an element like cobalt or gold
It has weight and substance.

Love is the coinage of responsibility
Not a door out of consequences.
Love, true love, inspires right action
Never cowardice or disrespect.

In this strange amelioration
Standing in the wings of realism
Love is love no longer

Love is the standard I have to bear
Not the canopy I stand beneath
In the frozen center.

Love cannot endure the pressure of misinformation
And melts with friction,
Floods with irresponsibility.

Love, like money, admiration and sex, has its place
And must not have expectation of being more than it is,
With that said,
Love is peerless, to be treasured, protected and shared

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 8


Simultaneous Acceptance



Being typical is a difficult thing to live with, but I am typical. Being extraordinary is a challenging thing to live up to, but this is also mine to bear, you see I am a typical alcoholic after all. Walking with one foot in each camp is not enough. I must simultaneously accept both my common commonality and my lottery winner uniqueness if I am to travel hand in hand with my Higher Power. If I don’t integrate this double reality, allow it to imprint my thoughts the way it is tattooed in my DNA I can not possibly take the biggest step of all and drop my judgment of these things so that humility can dwell within. You see there is not enough room in the vortex of my humanness to accommodate the jags of verdict and the desire for the sublime smoothness of humility. I can’t chase humility I have had to face that, but I can remove the impediments to its residence.



Have some compassion for your wounds


*

READY

Ready or not here it comes.
Life on terms of its own.
Bracing for the onslaught of gravity
I grip too well the implements of past days.

Fearing the pressure, I lay in my shallow grave,
The ground having been scooped out by my own hand.
Withering from expectation, my blood runs slow and dark,
Reducing to coagulated futility, loosing my life in anticipation of death.

Attempts at being less, as means of protection,
Less is not a solution.
Fading does not make life more livable
It makes me unavailable.

Readiness is my responsibility, it is momentary, momentary is sufficient.
Sobriety is nothing more than lining myself up with the needs of this instant
I need go no further,
Whole solutions are not my department.
Showing up,
dressed and washed,
ball and bat in hand if possible,
Just making it to the lineup is my full-time job.
Even if I never swing
It is better than being buried in the field

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 9



Hospitality


What unites us, heals us, serves us, is the hospitality of the program. Fellowship encircles us and draws us close, in a word unites us, hospitality is our core. Hospital is the root of hospitality and recovery is the route to health, hospitality is the skeleton of recovery. Hospitable aid, the true gift of self is hospitality; hospitality the master of A.A.




Observe inaction and discover its root



*

FORGIVENESS

Forgiveness is not something to force on people
like unwanted coffee.
It is only appropriate to forgive people who ask
for forgiveness
And show with their behavior that they want it.

It is never appropriate to shove forgiveness on people
who haven't asked
And show no signs of wanting it
or demonstrate just the opposite.

It's been said, forgiving was to help you feel better.
It doesn't.
Letting go of resentments makes you feel better.
Making amends to the people you've hurt,
Cleaning up your side of the street makes you feel better.

Keeping an open mind and heart will make you ready
for the possibility of someone coming to make amends.
Forgiveness is a two way street.
Anything you have to throw over someone like a net
is usually a mistake.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 10


Recognition

All I have are these two hands; I can not lift the world

All I have are these two legs; I can not flee the hoards

All I have is this one heart though need and want prevail

All that’s left is this one mind to try to tell this tale.

Everything in this bright orb is there for me to see

Everything laid out before me all that I can be

Everything that I perceive as wrong and know it in my heart

Everything I think to touch and change believing it’s my art

Once I take the giant reins acceptance escapes the scene

Once the fates are in my grasp chaos is the theme

Once the sight of my right place is lost from in my mind

Once I try to fill the great big shoes is the day that I go blind.



Prune expectation with open-mindedness




*

DON'T BE A FRAUD

Fake it till you make it is like saying,
Keep drinking till you get sober, complains my sponsor.
But what about the things I can't do yet?
You work on them, that's all, you work.

You adjust your attitude.
Practice the steps.
Carry your behind to meetings,
And talk to me and others in your network.

Yeah, that sounds like a breeze.
It's easier than staying sober while lying.
In this program we try to stay honest
And in the moment.

Pretending to feel differently than you do
Defeats your ability to be present
And makes it hard for people to trust you.
But it's so awkward, I grumble.

Which is why we of the alcoholic persuasion,
Try to find short cuts but don't get sucked into them.
Tell the truth and do the hard work of sobriety and
Stay away from people who try to sell you a Softer Way.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 11


Rebellion Dogs

“Rebellion dogs our every step at first” AA’s 12 and 12

They won’t come to heal, won’t sit, won’t stay, these dogs circle waiting for signs of weakness or vulnerable skin, but there they are; they have been found out. The ones that worry me more are those that took show and place, the dogs that stand in the shadows and lurk in the wing. What are their names I wonder? Their distinctive smell? Must I identify these writhing mutts or simply call animal control? Though this never worked with rebellion dogs these lesser pups surely would run from would be dog catchers and leave me to my dreams. Alas, I name them and show them to my friends; we like they run in packs and are served well by honest disclosure.




Learn from old dogs





*

THINGS THAT ARE THICKER THAN WATER

Pudding, mud, ice cream, cement, sauce, paint,
sap, drool, gravy, wood.
What is that?
A list of things that are thicker than water.

There are so many,
Why do people get so hung up on blood?
Survival, comfort, or maybe tradition?
There must be many reasons.

Why we strong-arm one another into relations
with family.
Families we drank with
Or families we drank to get away from,
But it's not the family is it, it's us.

We have to learn to do what we need to do.
We can't force ourselves into relationships
with anyone for any reason
Other then it is what is best for us.

Shoulds and aughts have no place in the family situation
So can I walk away from them all?
You can't do anything in the sweep of the wand,
In the same vein don't obligate yourself to people
due to viscosity.

That sounds like a promising start.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 12

Whittle it Down


A famous sculptor mentioned that he doesn’t so much create the objects as remove the stone which doesn’t belong. I have had the same experience with willingness. Encased in the bedrock of my will willingness had no opportunity to open doors. Flaking away the extraneous the key shape appears, rugged, blockish, rudimental. As the tears stream down my face and wrong thinking flies from my brain the key is more finely formed. As I wheedle at misconception and haul bodily wrong action the teeth of this thing show sharp in this day’s sun. Many doors stand ajar, at first those with basic tumblers, but now even those with encrypted defense are no match for the willingness, which I wield with rapier wit. The obvious blocks to progress open to me as well as the subtle doors to untold destination, I am let out of danger, released into possibility.





Trace implication



*

NIGHT FLIGHT

The small log shape with wings
Passed the windshield of my moving car
Without collision.
Meticulous calculation and correction
In a night sky.

Silent passage
Swift and meaningful
The owl lives as it knows how.

I was not born to the night.
Darkness not my given realm.
I have inverted my senses and compensated
For the moonlight.

I pull my way through the air
And hunt for my survival
In a world of shadows.
The morsels caught on the wing.

Snatches of conversations
And lines from books sustain me.
Giving me strength to live
In spite of the nocturnal bondage.

I have made peace with the night.
I am changed by my living
And my living endures.

The grace required to abide here
Is bestowed on me nightly.
I wear it though it is not the prize I sought.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 13

Progressive Fourth


All I can do is stand on the grass and count the shutters, the windows, the doors. At first I cannot approach to inspect any closer than that. Time passes and the other steps work me. I peer through the windows the next time and count the stuffs I can glimpse through the glass. I possess no periscopic vision, but what is in plain sight I reckon. Subsequently I wished to exteriorize and draw the inventory of the house out onto the lawn and tally there wishing to avoid that interior life, the poisoned vixen who haunted there. Time passed and she recovered as did I, into the house I went. I am now able not only to number my possessions; I can assess the flow and function, work patterns, interplay, reliability. I have now appraised not just the what, but the how of my life and progress into tomorrow.


Give cooperation a hand




*

TRAVELING PICTURES

I parked next to a beaten little import.
The well of the passengers side filled
With empty sports drink bottles and soda cans
The dash board was a shrine.

Three taped photographs.
One of a young man and young woman.
One of the young woman and an older woman.
One of the young woman and an enormous marble statue.

There were small carved objects
Affixed to the dash.
Jade and soapstone figures,
Beads and a feather.

The sanctuary in my head is decked out
In a similar manner.
Postcard pictures line my mind.
People I love, trips I took, pets long gone.

The road signs of my journey
Stand as exhibits of a tour of duty
Not always to my liking
But nothing I would trade.

I know clearly where I have been
And study the map to prepare
For the future escapades and loved ones.

Trinkets strung on my life line
Give texture, flavor and flash
To my pilgrimage.

[Daktari]

I was listening to you (Sherrie), Bob D and Vito L last night. Inspirational!

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 14

ONE


One skin
One mind
One spirit
One day

If I live in more than my own skin, I am a body snatcher and ghoul. If I live in a duality of thought I am ejected, ostensively out of my mind. If I redouble my spirit the increase takes a dark cold turn and I am lost. If I try to live two days at a time the sand shifts in the glass and I am worse off in that hour than Dorothy.
This skin is all I can be in, as many times as I walk in someone else’s shoes it’s the skin I’m in. This mind is my only bequest, treasure enough to earn my keep. Free as this spirit is it is still tied at the heel and like my shadow it remains. And today is the only day where the magic works, witches melt and clicking my heels gets my attention even if it doesn’t always take me home.






Create competition-free zones in your life


*

COMING TO THE TABLE

For many years, decades even,
I stacked the table against myself and others.
I piles the sacred next to the trifles.
I deposited item after item and built towers to confusion.
After years of sobriety I sorted the piles in earnest.

I made a place for myself at the table.
It's amazing what I can accomplish with a seat and a surface.
Over months, tediously separating, the needed from the useless,
I made a place for others at the table.

There is a whole world of life I missed
While trying to keep myself safe from unrealistic expectations.
Expectations of who I am and what I can do,
What I should do and who I should do it for.

Having strong boundaries and a clean table is like a homecoming.
I am coming home to me.
The good games and happy meals had at this table
Are unexpected and surely welcome.

The wall I built held good times at bay.
Because I could not keep the flood of trash
From spilling in from every direction
I had to learn to hold my head up before I could look around.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 15

Black and Blue Prints



Building hell from plans I found in the attic; furnishing it with what was left in the basement didn’t make a life but it did keep me occupied. Activity insulates me from living; camouflaging the windswept landscape I claw across turning my face from the oasis believing I have perfected a mirage. I have battered my hope and tied her in the corner the corner which I built from the blue prints I used to turn my life black


Turn up in the best places, turn up when needed, turn up the corners of your mouth

*

THE DEALS I'VE MADE

Because they are deals and not resentments or secrets
These circular schemes did not come out in my fourth step.
They didn't come out in the wash.
They come out whenever they are broken.

If the deal is-Don't eat pickled herring
And you won't remember X
The deal will be broken when pickled herring
Is served to me at some social gathering.

As I get healthier, the breaks connect evermore deeply.
What in early sobriety would have given me unexplained discomfort
Now gives me full-blown flashbacks
And I watch the deal unravel.

I wasn't supposed to eat this
Because this was on my plate-------When
But now that it's on the plate here----Now
I have to face this ugly roiling mess.

The deals saved my life
But unless they are handled with care and honesty
They can cost me the life I have now.

I must choose a safe person and place
To share these broken shards with.
Living alone with this will not work
And making it public fodder is a setup as well.

In every one of these deals
There is a back door to a drink
And therefore WE have to go out the front door together.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 16



The Long Dark Ride


Are fear and ignorance one thing that looks like itself or terrifying twins who feed one another? Can they be separated and if they can will it kill them? And if they die what will spring from their remains? Will it be better or worse? Can I tell what better is? Should I tell if it turns out to be worse? Is there ever an end to either fear or ignorance? If there is, how deep is that well and will I survive a trip to the bottom? Do you know and do you care? Will you go with me if I find the way? Will you take me if you find it first?




Learn from ugliness


*

THE 24 HOUR GOD

Matching a loving God to the horrors of my past
has proved impossible for me.
Projecting a connection to an all powerful God
of the ever foreshortening future seems implausible.

In today, I see a nurturing God
not an all purpose God
Not a God who serves all.
In my life there is a God I trust today.

Each morning, when I wake
there is a pleasant surprise to find a God.
Not an expansive God, not a God to fit the continuum
But a nice neat God who fits right in this 24 hours.

[LeftWriteFemme]

4HQx0ztnm6k

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 17


Suzy Q’s Mother



Through process of elimination I have had to learn who G-d is and who G-d isn’t. When it comes down to my understanding everything incomprehensible is off the table and what is left is mine, all mine. I can’t fathom an all powerful G-d; therefore my G-d is not all powerful. I can not begin to comprehend a vengeful G-d, as you might have guessed; my G-d is not vengeful. Because of these constraints I have a non-omnipotent G-d, one with limitations and bounds. This doesn’t mean I love my G-d any less in fact it may be why I love my G-d so very much. And G-d loves me with a Mother love that trails me to the depths and heights of the path, but like any mother, she can’t do everything. My G-d is accomplished and wonderful, but there are days that I need things, which lay outside my Higher Power’s area of expertise and I must turn to help beyond our little circle of two. This is not easy at first. We both feel awkward in the attempt, but Suzy Q lives two houses down and her mother still has her hook shot from college and since my mom’s experience of basketball is that it’s the court you walk through to go play tennis, I ask Mrs. Q with help making the three point shots. I don’t have to understand Suzy Q’s mother, I leave that to Suzy. I just have to ask for help, learn the jump and go home when I’m done. It’s nice to be able to slam dunk, but there is no place like home.


Recommend earnestness



*

THIN ICE

The ice is brittle, transparent and breaking away.
I brace for destruction, turmoil and frigid descent.
I am stuck in my topside thinking
And cannot realize the chance for freedom the cracking expanse promises.

I am an oceanic creature.
I can escape my watery bonds with the splitting of the ice.
Trapped in a hole I keep open only through the friction of my unrest
I am kept from the community of life to which I belong.

My reflection mixes with my view of the sky
And I forget my place, forget my name,
Forget how I have come to be trapped here.

The pining after what is not mine to have
Has brought me to this thin edge.
I must break through to be who I am.
In doing so I shatter the illusion of who I thought I was.

Zeal to zenith
I must move away from the phantasm and mockery
And take refuge in what I am

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 18


Hiding


“Defeat is what you make of it,” says my sponsor. “Fighting a thousand secret battles when you claim that you want peace is not right. The agony of defeat is when you keep on fighting. There is no honor in waving the white flag, but never laying down your arms.”
“I can’t just give them up they have been in the family for years,” my whining retort.
“I’m sure they have, darling, I’m sure they have, and haven’t done any of you a lick of good either,” her smug reply.
“They are good for sabotage,” I begin my running start at her.
“Sabotage is something you only do to yourself, because who else can you really sabotage? Who do you really hate enough other than you?”
“My hobby is denying that, you know.”
“Yes, and sweet lot of good it does you, the war rages within you and outside you say it’s harmony, no matter all the signs of discord.”
“And if I were to really give up. If, I were really tired enough, how can I insure my safety?” I asked with my hands nearly in the air.
“Tell the truth, even if it’s only to your self. Put space between you and weapons of mass destruction. Oh, and make sure you surrender to a friend.”



Loosen your grasp as often as you can


*

LIFE IS UNFAIR

Assuring myself I will not be permitted through the gate,
I walk the perimeter assessing the fence,
Looking for a place to exploit, a wire slightly high.
Trying to look graceful, I duck under the fence.

Telling myself I prefer life on the edge.
The water is less dangerous here on the fringe.
I wouldn't want to be swept away.

I stay clear of my peers.
I stand in the baby pool and feel confidant I won't drown.
Brushing from my conscience that I won't swim either.

Struggling to the top of the pile or scurrying underneath
Is a blatant lack of humility
Skirting the margin is the same.

Facing life and finding it unfair
I take to the world of exception
And hope to slip through the cracks to a life of safety.
In that act, I discount my talent and ability.
Worst of all, I disconnect from God.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 19



Jenny





Though ignorance may be bliss, living in the shadow of someone else’s ignorance is sheer hell. The confusion is bad, but the lies are worse. Want to cripple a child for life give it to a well meaning fool who has the rule book to the wrong board game, that child will grow to need crutches they don’t make and medicine they can’t brew. Dependant on misguided insanity the child will require a miracle cure and may lack the ability to ingest it. Best case scenario the kid makes a brave escape into a world she can barely comprehend, worse case she turns the rule book upside down and reads it backwards to her own unfortunate brood. Ignorance is always a twilight proposition, half agreement the other half handcuffed nightmare. Full consent is by necessity impossible while blameless innocents is similarly unachievable. The only suggestion I can make from this side of the looking glass is to pick your poison and plan your getaway.







Rain encouragement down in your dreams





*



TIME IS HERE TO STAY

I have passed my days emptying them.
Like bread crumbs on a trail of rescue
Expecting them to facilitate redemption
And if not that at least retreat.

I release an audible sigh
As I let each evening slip to the path behind me
The future I view as a cliff I am nearing
I hope to be ransomed before the edge.

I plan carefully how to stay in sync with revision
Things must be resolved and revert
But this is not the way.
The past is there to be mined.

Inert gold as well as land mines linger beneath the surface
The days stream on.
I am not nearing the limit
I am shrinking from hope.

I turn my eyes from expectancy with a shutter
Deeply, I realize I must leave my fairytale life
And walk away with my days in my pocket
A treasure------mine to spend.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 20

Katie’s Wish


Does G-d arrange for my parking spot, foil the Colts opponents, release the stains from my dry-cleaning? Can I ask for the petty and pedantic? All One G-d Faith, reads the side of the soap bottle, but really is there only one? Like Santa? The Tooth Fairy? OZ? Is my life better or worse for the whimsy? How would I know? Why would I care? As long as I live with what I get most times, it truly is okay to ask for what I want sometimes, I mean hell, the Superbowl is only once a year. I’m allowed to be unreasonable and happy.



Open your mind more often than seems necessary



*

FOREVER IS NOT AS LONG AS IT USED TO BE

What time gives in permanence it takes in fluctuation
The relationships I stand on to reach with tippy toed grasp
The light of heaven
Flutter by like flounder disturbed from their sandy bed.

My mind probes the past looking for the shroud lines
To hold up the sail of hope.
Togetherness the banner of life,
Bonds to strength, protection, from outside and within.

I yearn for a life of love, unbending and calm
I am met with a tug of war
Which ends in the mud.
Days stretch into years but years are no protection from terminus.

Forever rings in my head.
Promises I have made to myself
Promises I have made to others
Promises made to me are nothing in the face of the promise of tomorrow.

Time flows like air over a row of seedlings, fresh and challenging
Sustaining life and carrying away familiarity.
Forever is not as long as it used to be.
I can live with that, have to live with that.

I shake my fist at the sky
But it won't make love last.
It will not keep my heart from loving again.
Sails which have filled before will fill again.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 21


Word Comprehension


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.


Re-pattern fear



*

SEAM ALLOWANCES

The space, given and taken.
The space used to bind and sew us fast.
The permission for humanness
And the need for seams to make us whole.

The narrow margin is a shoulder on which I lean.
Slender strip, a place of refuge.
Darts are shaped to hug the curves,
I bend to fit to life.

Our nearness, being my own part and part of more,
Planning and a pattern, cut to order,
With allowances made for fraying and fragility,
Allow me to feel woven into a web of what is
And still hope for more

The unfinished garment taking shape
Easing and stretching
And before my eyes
Pins held between the teeth of God.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 22


Ace

Like an ace in my pocket step one is the beginning and end of my step work. This step carries the high and low count; its rise is so near to the ground I didn’t have to lift my chin to clear it as I crawled my way in here, its appeal so exalted that it is all I hear when I finish the twelfth and am on my way back around. The high and low of any hand plus the card I keep up my sleeve for emergencies. The greatest blessing is I don’t need four of a kind, not even a pair; as long as I have step one I am guaranteed a full house, full heart, full life and between you and me that’s just how I like it.


Lick your lips then smile



*

SHAME

I push shame around my plate like a chunk of spoiled meat.
The toxins leaching to every interface and cavity
With an inverse half-life, the lethal substance grows
Reinforcing and sending runners and tendrils
To worlds known and those yet undiscovered.
I wage my war on this shapehifting plaque.
Thrust and parry, I step back from the unsurmountable walls
And set my sights on tearing down the bunkers
In my personal city.
Like lead plumbing
The danger eludes the observation of my fellow citizens
I am labeled a lunatic
And no attention is paid to my evaluation of water quality.
I search for similarly crazed friends
Variants within a theme.
I depend on the poisoned sanity of my wounded compatriots.
We shovel the plate loads of spoiled meat and detritus.
The foreshortened mountain of shame
Allows tiny strands of light to glimmer across the surface
But the shamed devotees turn their heads.
We, the few, face the glowering mass.
I worry like a petulant child.
What if we cannot prevail?
Is shame stronger then recovery?
Have we traveled this far to miss the glaciers edge?
As it slides away from us
I console myself with the sure knowledge that,
This life of sobriety is better than any other offering
Healing the world, What a lovely thought.
Living free from shame today, what a necessity.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 23

Over Troubled Water

Though G-d might be everything, for a long time G-d was a resident of an unknown country; a theoretical citizen of a theoretical land. It took some time for me to spy yon distant country and longer to realize what a miracle it was that I could see my neighbor, holding my optics turned around the way they were. Turning over the binoculars came long before introductions or interaction, but it was an important step in relationship building nonetheless.
Having seen the island my mind fled due to the trumped up stories about its resident. Open minded observation cleared up the fallacies of ogres and super heroes, but this only told me who G-d wasn’t and nothing of who G-d is. Direct knowledge was going to require direct contact.
I began throwing tethered balls of string across the channel that separates us and was shocked, delighted, horrified to find that the far end would get tied to the far shore. I threw twine next, then rope, after a few successful repetitions I was able to shinny across for the first time. Filled with fear and trepidation I arrived on the apposing bank and stood shivering more from nerves than cold. I saw no one and felt much. I didn’t stay long and swam back. The first plank bridge was simple and straight. Having this link somehow emboldened me to explore the land of my own country. With great regularity I found narrow margins. I crafted a new bridge for each slender passage. The more I learn about me the more regular my connection to that inner land.
Like something shy of my wrath, G-d made an illusive sight. The more I calmed the more often the sightings. We made acquaintance and then we made friends. I’ve widened some bridges and G-d has widened others. We stroll together often hand in hand. We talk and laugh, cry and joke. Occupancy is fluid, times I live on the island and others the surrounding continent sometimes we live together other times we are one another’s guests. All the days are not happy ones but we are always happy to be together and more than that I will not ask.

Quarantine reluctance


*

DOMINOES

What happens to the dominoes that do not fall?
The show cut short by my sobriety.
The tiles stand front to back
The foul respiration will send them to their preordained destination.
I hold my breath as I glance over the display of generations
The design is set
Painstaking patterns lain with meticulous, ingenious deft.
Skill for falling, laying waste.
Sad pictures told and retold in speedy drops
The rhythmic fall of dominoes turning eight blocks to a corner.
Direction shifts
But the descending continues.
I cannot occupy this ground.
I must not upset the arrangement.
I cannot clear it from this world.
I must walk away from the upright mosaic.
A flower waiting to bloom with destruction
I have to move, climb the steep slopes
Vertical life,
Leaving the tumbling destruction for Yet.
Grasping the sides of the cliffs
I haul myself off the tableland,
A place set for a show of laying down,
I build my strength and keep off the well known flats.
This is a life apart
The game is there if I return.
It is a game no one can win.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 24

Cured

Ham is cured. Thank G-d, I’m not ham. Ham likes to be the center of attention. Thank G-d, I’m not ham. I can’t be the worker among workers if I believe I don’t need to work. I can’t be a friend among friends if I am an island or a precipice, above or away from the need or reach of others. Cured is a one way street that leads to a dried up lonely end. Just the same way that turning my cucumber into a pickle took me out of the garden, curing takes me away from the only home I know, recovery. Though I am often raw and sometimes fresh, these I can survive, finished due to the drying out process that would be a living death. Thank G-d I’m not cured.


Side step pitfalls


*



BECAUSE

Because I am my fathers child,
I make my attendance at meetings frequent and regular.
Having looked deeply in the genetic mirror
I see so many bitter days.

I've run from implications and sheltered in the steps.
The humility that saved my life,
Is understanding I am no different from my family
And since this is a progressive disease we all have
I will just get there faster.

Knowing who I can be helps me turn my will over
And keeps me grasping my Higher Powers belt loop.
All I am turns in every direction
And can pull or push, lift or fall.

I know my assets.
I know their power and their limitations.
All my hope is placed on a plan to use these resources.
I follow the only lead
Which has never promised more than it can deliver.

[KCBUTCH]

Well the Universe has got me speaking all over and in turn picked up a new Sponsee, with 9 days WOW who is to come by later to start going over the book and step 1.
We'll see how long the enthusiasm lasts LOL

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 25

Exceptance


“I want G-d’s will for me,” I sigh to my sponsor.
“Except for this and except for that,” is her trig response. She knows me, knows I have exceptance. “You have a list of exclusions, a list that dams up the works.”
“Well, trust is hard,” I splutter.
“Trust is not the issue here,” says she. “You don’t feel acceptable and exceptance is what follows.”
“Whatever could you mean?” my broken bluster leaving only this plaintive whine.
“You believe you’re not good enough for G-d or anyone and cross everything off the list in an attempt to duck blame or shame or some other nasty thing. You are good enough kiddo, get that and everything else is good enough, too. At least good enough for now and now is all we have. Accept that.”




Include water in your life



*

TOP

The chipped paint of the red stripe
Gives the illusion of fading to rose as it spins
The edge, painted thalo green, in it's intensity
Reflects the windows of the room.

The bead, purple and gleaming
Affixed to the stem holds the cuff
With it's two opposed openings
The cord recoiled inside.

Underneath, protected from easy observation
Resides the point, lathed and faultless
The turning weight is carried and balanced
Perfectly on this nib.

The hum, spiraling and melodic
Comes from the table as well as the top
The aptness of form and function
Grace and harmony

In spite of it all
The only thing
Which truly matters
Is who pulls the string.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 26

The Resentment of an Acorn


Because no one believed that I was a giant oak inside, I had to prove it and drop my little cap and leave my shell behind. Now I stand big and tall, alone, board feet to the sky. I have lost my portability in my quest for the recognition of my potential. My amazing growth painful due to its cause; poor mental health is a bitter road to achievement. As I stand head and shoulders above the undulating canopy reflection comes on a sweet breeze. Am I sorry I’m here, it could have been worse, could have been eaten by a squirrel or glued endlessly to a third-grade art project “my walk through the woods” bugs could have gotten me, though that looms even now. I could have disintegrated, lost my power and integrity. Whatever the driver I am appreciative of the destination, there were many darker roads on that map. It’s good to be here. It’s good to be anywhere sober.



Shade your honest attempts



*

BELIEVE

Listening to what people say
Is a half waste of time.
Believing it is a full waste of time.
Truth wills out in behavior.

No matter what is said
What is done is the real deal.
What is done over time
Is the final test.

The things that are repeated
Resounding from one generation to the next
Are to be counted on.

Believing in told truths
Is a snare and a delusion
The trap of all traps.

If your sponsor has a sponsor
You may sleep at night.
If your sponsor works with that sponsor
You can sleep soundly.

Doing the right things.
Doing them over and over again
Doing them with others,
Your group, your friends, your sponsees

That will make you believable
I can think of nothing else that will.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 27

Adjustment


The chase is on, round and round it goes and where it stops no one knows. I run after control and change as I grasp, but can never quite get my fingers wrapped around the thing. An open fist is an adjustment; no fist at all would be a feat. The fool’s errand I send myself on brings suffering; there would be suffering anyhow, I feel I am the cause due to my attempt to avoid it; another backhanded attempt at the illusion, the goal, control. Adjusting to reality is at first freefall; rarely do I get to second. The shape taken by the shift in my gears to no gears at all dilates my pupils and the rest is white. If the colors come back I don’t know when. If the ground beneath me returns I don’t know how. I am blinded by the light and can only follow the sound.





Stall your reticence



*

ONE IN A THOUSAND

"Did they tell you the odds when you came in?"
Asked my sponsor
Yes, One in thirty make it to the rooms
One in thirty of those stay for five years.

One in a thousand get truly sober
And are catapulted to another dimension
I responded.
"What was your response to that?"

Well, I showed the proper amount of surprise
"Yes but what did you think inside?"
I thought, Climb with me or I'll climb over you.
Not very spiritual is it?

"It worked, you're still sober.
A lot of folks aren't.
The company you keep is sober.
There is nothing less spiritual than a drunk."

Is that why it's called a selfish program?
"I don't know."
It seems to me sobriety is a gift you give the world
But I give it to myself.

"Yes, but you can't give a gift
You don't have in your possession."
Point taken.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 28


Pucker Up


The gifts I never expected, never knew I needed, never imagined wanting, arrive wrapped in fretful apprehension more often than not. “Who knew?” I ask myself standing swathed in a skin I never realized I owned. My identity has been handed to me an article at a time, each item less likely than the last. Do they fit, yes of course, fit as if they were made for me, fit because they are me. My inability to recognize myself is a stumbling block; my willingness to try is my salvation. Though there are times when a kiss is just a kiss, there are other times when a kiss can change the whole world.


Quarter your difficulties, dice your recriminations



*

YARD BOAT

Early in my life, I lived in a gated yacht club,
The canal passing in front of my home.
I had no boat
I didn't know how to sail
I had not a thought of learning.
In later years, I learned to sail.
I covered the water in choppy tacks
And prayed for safe returns to shore.
Those were the years with a yard boat.
Covered in a tarp, the blue sided craft sat dry
The sun and wind taking their toll
The vessel stayed on the trailer
Waiting to be towed.
At the reservoir it would fill
Water leaking in from every joint.
I would bail and sail with all my heart.
Timing has never been my strong suit.
Rare are the times when all the ingredients
Come together in my life.
I have used this as an excuse
To feel like a failure.
I have used it to blame and dismiss God.
I have used it to avoid pursuit of opportunities.
I have averted my attention from the satisfactions in my life.
Living on the water is a pleasure
And stolen moments tacking in the basin of Round Valley
An equal joy.
Happy with what I have makes MORE a surprise
Not a necessity.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 1

Reality and Desire



“I know the difference between desire and reality,” I whisper to my new found friend. Who I am and what I am, are a reality unto themselves, your recognition of that and how you handle said recognition are for you and G-d. The vastness of the true you; I hope to spend a lifetime surveying; but not sampling. What you want and your reality are not mine to mind or mend. If you are driving that train this is on you and if HP is the driver all the more incentive for me to be still, enjoy the ride and await the outcome. For in the end the question is never, will you be mine, but what will I be to you.



Explore beyond the bend in your mind



*

IF I HAD A SCREWDRIVER

If I had anything other than this hammer
Possibly, I would discontinue pounding
This helix into the side of my universe.

The slot is unused
The flat heat of my sledge slams.
A wide void is punched into my abyss
As the threads are pummeled, not turned.

If I had picked up the right tools.
If they had been displayed within my reach.
If my granny had wheels
She might yet be a wagon.

I have picked up new tools
But having never seen them used, I bang with them
Watching others twisting the wrist and angling the elbow
I try to wrap my mind around the posture.

Muscles I have never used
Laminated to mental configurations unthought of
Improvements in workmanship is slow.
May a fine toolbox has remained full and untouched.

The mind lacking the dexterity to grasp the in-workings
The body ill equipped for the outer
If I had a screwdriver, I pray I could bring to it
The flexibility of sinew and the nimbleness of wit

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 2


Stepping up


I look along the list of names, look upon the sea of faces. Are there any whose eyes I avoid? I gaze across the landscape are there any craters, any pock marks, any divots. I tick through my actions those I’ve recently taken checking for stumbles, glitches, snafus. These combined facts and figures create a portrait of my day; I appraise the eyes, the hair, the teeth. If I can smile at what I see all is well if not I begin the repair.


Plan for your contentment at least as much as you plan your escape



*

SWEAT

I turn the desk lamp into the eyes of God.
I put question after question
To the construct of my childhood concept.

Would you please explain?
Or exactly why did You do this,
That, or the other thing?

Are You now or have You ever been a member of?
I put the pressure on.
The beads of perspiration join and then trickle.

I have God in the box, I will not relent.
I don't understand You, I say disappointedly
As if speaking to a troubling adolescent.

You have so much potential, if only You would apply Yourself
The icon shakes It's head slowly and deliberately,
I shake my head too.

So much time has passed
And I am no closer to embrace.
You don't understand Me, says God to me.

Dawn breaks, I uncuff this mythic creature.
You are not the One I am looking for,
You are free to go

[LeftWriteFemme]

Leap Day

When winter is almost at an end it becomes beautiful; a theoretical thing, which though it may hurt you, can not hurt you for long, therefore is safely appreciated by mere mortals. You don't have to beg for G-d's own protection, time has become a friend and winter only a show. I will soon wake from this chilling fright, will in fact thaw from it in short order and needn’t fret though chilblains still catch out me now and then. I can stand at the window admiring frost and ice formed lace; intricate patterns whose beauty will soon be lost to me, put away in favor of crocus and daffodil. The terrible loveliness of soon to pass trauma is not lost on my hyper-vigilance I grasp it I just can’t seem to let it rest.



Unseat disreputable ideas


*

WANTING

Wanting to be alive is not as important
As wanting to do right. Said my sponsor.

I don't want to be here, I half blurted, half sobbed.
I know came the reply.

Many of us come in not wanting to live
But sobriety is about living
And you want to be sober said my sponsor
Yes but I don't want to live.

This moment, this moment you don't want to live
But you still want to be sober
And you still want to do right
Yes

And that is what you will do.
You will pick up the tools
As you have done so often
And you will try everything suggested.

Then you'll see how you feel tomorrow.
What if it doesn't go away?
You'll keep it up
And see how you feel the next day.

What if I never feel better?
Ah well-----
When have you ever had anything
That dependable

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 3


The Horse of a Different Stripe



When I arrived at the horse and pony show, I saw all there was to see; there were Morgans, Walkers, and Paints. Yet I couldn’t help, but return to this particular zebra, the spark of my imagination, the inspiration of my dreams. There was no help for me, I want what I want and need what I need. It was all about spirit, all about soul; the fire in its eyes matched the burning of my heart, ignition at the point of recognition. Then I stumble, then I fall, bad behavior and wrong thinking, the selfishness of the self-involved takes hold and runs my mouth, “Nice mount, great steed, But can nothing be done about these stripes?” The flash in those eyes, the knowing knickers, said it all. I was trying to stay in my small place and that would never work with her, if I wanted the Zebra, I had to be willing to go to Africa.






Respect randomness


*

DICHOTOMY'S' EMBRACE

Contentment and security
Bleed in through the doors and windows of my heart.
Peace blows its fine wind across my mind.

I fear for my identity
I raise my hand to beat the drum
Is my pulse still here if the beat of discontent is not?

The warmth seeps in
My fingers uncurl
I resist the urge to tilt my face to the sun.

How can I be I
If my countenance is not bleak?
Mirth escapes my lips, Am I a creature of laughter?

My brain feels through levels of sheltered memory
I am old and age hangs from my brow
I am young and exposure stings my flesh.

In all this----Joy?
Where can I enfold this antithesis
Shadows play across shade.

A child of extremes, Yes
Brooding and rage, howling and silence
How have sprinkles and starlight added to the mix?

Purring, musing and sweet kisses
What am I in this embrace?

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 4


A Duck Trying to Teach a Fish to Swim



Just because you’ve been in the water doesn’t mean you know how to swim. Just because you swim in the water doesn’t mean you can teach me how. Floating on top and plunging your head under the surface occasionally, doesn’t qualify you to safe guard me. Poaching is unpleasant to those of us caught, we that were foolish enough to believe that birds of a feather can teach school are picked off and swallowed by the benevolence of so much quack.



Stand up to extend your reach



*

AND I BELIEVE YOU

"This will be easy." Says my sponsor.
"Oh yes, simplicity itself I'm sure." I respond
"I've participated in these plans before."
"We get good results." She retorts

I love how you pick goals.
They seem like intellectual straight lines
And turn into roller coasters.
You do it with an open face, not a modicum of guilt.

Why should I feel guilty?
You keep getting better.
I keep staying sober.
What is there to feel bad about?

The guileless look on your face,
I fall for it every time but no more,
I know you're cunning.
You know this will be hard.

I remember when we worked on Honesty.
What could be simpler?
Or Hope, how sweet a concept.
Or the thirty rounds on the floor with Setting Limits.

I've begun to realize you're like,
The bean seller that Jack met.
You say they are magic beans
And I believe you.

You say they'll grow to the sky
I know they will
And I will climb them
Just don't tell me it will be easy

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 5


What and When, When and How……and Why


Arriving at the place where I have nothing to prove, afforded me the luxury of not having to proclaim the amount of time I have, when I share in a meeting. Taking the score keeping out of the equation I was then able to think of what it was that motivated me to speak in a meeting. Self-Possession, a great gift to inhabit, a greater gift to demonstrate; quiet dignity is a real favorite of mine. If I am calm yet in control, if there is time, if there is a lull, I can share parts of my experience. If I have chaos, an agenda, a theory, a grudge it is all better left unsaid in the meeting and saved for the less vulnerable ear of my sponsor. For if I am wrong I might persuade in error and if I am right I might convert in righteousness.
Why is it that what I never say rings louder than anything I do?




Leave gossip where you find it




*

MOTE

I dug the mote, the alligators came on their own.
The rain fell, I did not bid it.
I've burned all the bridges
I've sold the farm.

I wonder at the company I keep
The birds fly in and stay for a season
Friends used to wave as they passed
Now my island is overgrown.

I stand to my chin in the tall grass
I guess it's a matter of maintenance
What I don't keep pruned grows back
The connections I don't secure weaken and fail.

I am subject to all that falls, if I don't keep my roof on.
The wind chaps me without the walls of my home
No clothes and I burn
No joy and all I do is cry.

It takes more than a continuous ditch
To protect my heart.
More than water and reptiles
To safeguard my soul.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 6

The Price of Today’s Ride



Much of my spiritual awakening has been spent separating myself from the nightmare of the past, reassuring myself that in fact, it, the horror, is over. As my present has improved my reactions are still invested with, the hide or fly, coping of a child dealing with terror. Things get better yet barricades are erected, departing flights secured. Disengaging the clutch of fingers wrapped so tightly around the escape hatch takes a great deal of my short supply of faith and confidence. Laying down my anticipatory reluctance in favor of optimism has had the breathtaking feel of pain, though in fact it was only the separation from a poisonous crutch and the vacuum it creates. Allowing myself to see beauty at the same time as I deal with the truth of the past; standing in the full light of morning and not blocking out the brilliant ache of night is the outstanding gift my spiritual path affords me.



Open stored creativity



*

ECHOES OF ACTION

Squares of light outline a patchwork on walls and ceiling.
Ripples of water formed this ancient glass.
Three hundred years these waves have shone through those panes.
Three hundred years these waves have held,
Like stability in a world of change.

Looking through the window
The City rams life down it's own throat.
The ripples are invisible,
Caressing currents imbed the glass
The wavelengths shining projections only with the street lights.

How much mundane activity is captured,
Only revealing itself surreptitiously.
What is not echoed from year to year comes to final rest.
My voice does not terminate at my mouth
How therefore can I consider a blunted end to my behavior?

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 7

Migration

Why does an alcoholic leave the drink behind? To go where it’s warm, because drunkenness has become cold comfort, because the climate has changed. The wind resists the flight from the bottle and the initiative to break the flow is rotated among the flock. Though each member of the band plays their part, the one diverting the air just ahead of me and the one just behind trumpeting still hold the majority of my attention. Flocking is my primary purpose because survival is the intention of life, demise the intent of my illness. One more sober day is all I can ask, it’s all I ever need, it’s all that’s ever offered.




Put wheels under procrastination



*

POPCORN FLAVORED LOLLIPOP

I can't know it, I can't believe it,
The world of popcorn flavored lollipops
Is now being visited upon me.

Both a surprise and a comfort,
A popcorn flavored lollipop
Given to me by a gas station attendant.

A blast of sugar and salt wake my tongue.
What can a mind do
In the face of buttered-salted bonbon on a stick?

I wouldn't have thought of it, no in a million years.
This is somehow a source of hope to me,
There are open minded people living in the world around me.

I often pray for creative thinking on the part of my Higher Power
I inadvertently dismiss the populace
Who are producing prodigies of ingenious originality and cunning.

I want the world to be gifted with what sobriety has given me.
Candy is not world peace
But many great things start with a little sweetness

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 8


Résistance



Resisting tough love is approaching long run action with short run thinking. I hate to set the toddling babe down lest he fall, but in the end if I do not put him down he and I will both be the worse for it. Whether I see a forest or I see trees depends so very much on my perspective, also on my willingness to delay the prevention of minor scrapes to eliminate the need for permanent scaring. The theme is greater personal responsibility and less irrational fear. Guarding tomorrow’s possibilities by not hamstringing them today through the resistance of tough love saves lives, it saves mine.




Raise the roof on your thinking



*

PICTURES & FRAMES

I paint my way into the corners of the frames.
Each picture I fill diligently,
Color, texture, all the tricks I use.
I work hard to get the desired effect.
I hold nothing back, I put heart and hopes forward.
I load my brush with pigment,
I propel my tongue out of my mouth,
I use it for balance like a kangaroo uses it's tail.
Stroke after stroke I layer the image
My depiction is fresh to me,
I bring the green, the red, the blue,
All of them flow from me.
The canvas fills, my soul soars through the tinctures
Then the disappointment begins,
The complaints, the lamentations,
The perspective is off.
I can't seem to contain this scene
Within the confines of this gilded prison.
I readjust, I tilt my head
I paint from the bottom up, then the top town, No---No.
I must pick up a new canvas and frame.
The oak, burnished and honeyed brown.
I cast to the side the gilt and sculptured casing.
I lay it along the wall with the others.
The many discards of my life
As yet the obvious has escaped me.
The tint, the hue, the angle
Size may diverge but that is all.
I have recreated the same scene
In all the frames,
In all my attempts,
I have painted only one picture.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 9


Revelations


And I, Sherrie, had a new freedom and a new happiness for the first freedom and the first happiness were passed away. And there were no more tears. This is how it should be and for the most part this is how it is. Hell’s gates hang broken on their hinges and I walk free. The world is mine to explore and I am happy. More than a notion, my life is a fact; sounder than a bank note and I am on an emotional foot race to keep pace with my recovering self. Could it be lost? Lost like paradise, lost like I was lost before? Why, yes, all could be lost and that is what makes this freedom truly free and this happiness truly happy, they are mine, mine to keep and mine to lose, they may not be in my control but they are within my reach.




Voir dere contempt

*


VOLUNTARY MUTE

I have learned I don't have to answer just because someone asks.
I have learned to change subjects.
I have learned it is better to say nothing.

Repeating the phrase, "It's just my opinion."
Followed with, "I could be wrong."
Has proven insufficient.

Somehow things frequently turn out worse than I expected
But as of yet none have turned out better.
This upsets.

People become angry when I am correct.
They are less angry when I'm silent.
I tell the truth and trouble follows.

I didn't get sober to lie so I keep my mouth shut.
There is no reason to distress folks
And reality has a way of doing that.

Silence is my new defense
I hide in it
And find my new freedom.

Unless it's my sponsor, my sponsee or my cherished friend
Battening down the hatches saves me from a tempest
And spare others their outburst.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 10


Isolation

I isolate from you, I isolate from others, I isolate from friends, isolate from G-d, I practice connecting by connecting with my sponsor, practice connecting with my friends, practice connecting with G-d, finally I am able to connect with you, the first thing I do is isolate us from them, my sponsor, my friends, my G-d, they are all now on the outside of the bubble of us and I must start again, only now I must try to maintain the you and me connection while at the same time connect with the rest. Are we still us if I am connected with them? Are we still us if we are in the midst of the crowd I think of, the crowd I call, them? Just because they see us as us, refer to us as us, are we still us if we don’t feel like us to me? If I don’t know us in the landscape of hordes are we still we? Isolation is an attempt at preservation, how can we best be preserved without being pressed in a book or jarred or jammed? You say let us be, and I say that’s how I got us; are you sure that’s how I keep us? And you hug me tight.




Bloom with or without a garden


*

THE WALL OF PLEASANT

How quickly I am protected by a sweet smile
A disarming countenance and gentle phrase
Save my skin and psyche.

No longer do I defend my reputation as a wit or critic
I let it all flow by.
The simpler I appear the more effective the facade.

The energy I conserve not fighting loosing battles
Is well spent in the company of like minded sober friends
In the pursuit of sober lives.

I stay out of the fray and behind this partition
It's insides are posted with announcements proclaiming my opinions
And the lunacy of the person on the other side.

The reading of these notices
Does not persuade me to dismantle the enclosure

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 11


Conception 2



My active voice is the elixir of fire my addiction would have me snuff in order to keep us hidden from each other, me hidden from you, you hidden from me and no one noticing you or I pouring the drinks. Minus my active voice I slip easily into unconsciousness, my effectiveness doused. My active voice is the light in my room the candle in my window, the glow within me, which illuminates my days as well as my nights. Moving ever forward the gyroscopic precision of this voice never fails me if I keep my “listening ears” turned on and tuned in. My active voice is and will always be the live wire connection of my Higher Power uniting with me through people, places and things. My effective conscience is everything that results from this bond. I run at an unfathomable rate of efficiency when my active voice is on, my feet fail to touch the ground as I fly to right action, the nature of my effective conscience is just that, nature, as natural as if I were not carrying a fatal malady, but instead possessed the secret to serenity, which in fact I do: sobriety.




Try not to confuse available with empty



*

SPIRITUALITY

The bedpan of spirituality
Was shoved under my ass
Early in sobriety

It kept me from increasing the mess
With which I surround myself.
The cold smack of enamel got my attention.

The old timers showed me there is a place for my shit
It was not any of the places
I had been using.

My side, your side, all sides were strewn with my waste
Fragments, tatters and fearful reminders
Were all there for me to clean up.

Amends as the shovel
And willingness as its handle
Is what I use to clear my past.

Sweat is refreshing when progress is being made
I've made inroads, paths of travel help me more easily
From the past to the present without regret.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 12


Creed

We have a long standing family tradition of viewing miracles as tragedy; this custom has afforded us many a fine escape from the unknown. Most things in life are bad; people, places, things, this belief is protective though useless. Ultimately I feel this belief is not what colors the dynastic impression of the miraculous, but the apprehension is due to the limited nature of the thing. I come from a line of dissatisfaction; miracles are provided when what is desired is panacea. If everything is not imperially resolved then it is all for naught because the same psyche which cannot begin a process without a guaranteed outcome can’t pickup the slack after a triumphant start. Give it all to me tied with a bow, I will begin the critique from there though I will accept, offer me a beginning fraught with uncertainty and I will decline. A secure entrenchment is preferred to inexact risk. I will die with my boots on, but I mustn’t leave the house.



Respect your age



*

FRIENDS

My sweet, dear, funny friend
Steeped in beat
Whose hand I can no longer hold.

I yearn for the wildly flying words, like feathers in a snow
The shock of hair and glinting eyes I see so clearly
In my shivering mind.
I must let go.
I miss all the friends who for reason or no
Have traveled down the yellow brick spiral to who knows where.
My arms feel open and starved
But there is no way for me to retain myself
And follow them.
Some are lost, altogether
Some are lost only to me
But my arms remain empty nonetheless.
My ruined heart is sore and sad
But chasing this friend or that
Will not heal it.
The lonely path before me is the answer for me.
Possibly only for me among our former group
And will the paths cross later in this day or next?
I don't know and am better not knowing.
My path requires me to release outcomes
As well a kindred.
I must travel with my arms open
Some fall out of them
And others find their way in.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 13



Wax On


“Sometimes a dish is just a dish,” I said to my sponsor.
“Yes and sometimes it is the world away, which you hold in your hand,” her reply.
I stand at the sink and try to wash the dishes when I am washing the dishes. I try to drive the car when I drive the car. These simple acts of concentration, focus and sooth the jagged mental sutures where I am supposed to be coming together, but ultimately come apart. Anything to break my frenetic gyrations is a blessing, anything to cut away to a closer view and a clearer understanding of where I really am; anything to derail the speeding blur of a life of my creation is good. What I do and who I am are secrets and mysteries when I don’t know how to pay attention and ironies when I do. And if you doubt me, just go ask Arnold.



Contrast confusion


*


BLUE CROWS

Blue crows streak across my dreaming minds sky
They take up their post in a line of trees
I stand at the edge of a burning field

I feel nauseous at the thought of glorifying an 'active' life.
Everything is burned, scared and crumpled
The flashy crows call from the hedgerow.

I know it's time to fly
The fire is out and I have work to do.
To keep the sparks and dormant embers from ruining another harvest.

I must travel with these strange birds
And live an odd but regimented life
I needn't scorch my feet on this ground again.

Like my companions I must spend sometime in survey
If I do not fully assess this damage
I might not fully embrace this dawn.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 14



Patricide

I never killed my father. Why finish a job that someone is completing all on his own. It’s not that I didn’t wish him dead; I did and do for that matter. Don’t misunderstand me, I wish him no harm, it’s just that he is like a creature so tortured that he is nothing but a danger and a misery. Left to live he is a hazard to everyone he has contact with, an agony to live inside. What can I wish for him, but departure and rest, something he can never give to himself. I don’t plot, don’t scheme, I only know; know in part, the terrible lie he lives and hurt he drags from place to place acting like it is not there and nothing matters; let’s just get by. So, if he is not dead he should be. He is the embodiment of the hurtful impotent god and I don’t kill that man but I kill the image, perish that thought.



Provide for the future of your sanity

*



PRETTY FEET

I look at the line on my heel
Where I must stay vigilant with pumice and the moisturizer
My toes clean and straight but nothing more.

I see my feet as passable, it's hard to see them as beautiful,
Well cared for is the best I can do
But there is a beauty in that.

I think of myself,
I am an alcoholic
There is nothing beautiful about alcoholism either.

The care I take in tending my sobriety
The nurturing I see others use in their own lives
There is a certain loveliness to it.

Crusted over hearts
Scraped and oiled
Fit and ready to beat anew.

Polluted minds, drained and reformed
To turn lives upright
Step work and making meetings

Is just a functionary thing
But gorgeous in its own way
Efficacy is a pearl not to be disregarded.

[Daktari]

I needs yer advices/suggestions

My sponsor told me that she does the steps the working guide way...no argument, that is how it is. However, now she's thrown me a curve ball and we're doing step four, not from the working guide and in a way that freaks me out. I have to write about how something might 'affect my sex' - my 'femininity' and woman-ness. WHAT THE FUCK?! :|

There is not a chance in hell that I'm writing any soddin' columns and boxes that include anything about 'femininity' and woman-ness.

I'm so uncomfortable with this alternative that I've been given, especially with it's archaic, biblical language and assumption that anyone with a female body is feminine or woman that I wonder if my sponsor actually has taken notice of anything I've said about my sexuality and indentity. :|

[o222Good]

I needs yer advices/suggestions

Hey Daktari. They do mention sex as part of Step Four in the Big Book:

"In dealing with resentments, we set them on paper. We listed people, institutions or principles with whom we were angry. We asked ourselves why we were angry. In most cases it was found that our self-esteem, our pocketbooks, our ambitions, our personal relationships (including sex) were hurt or threatened. So we were sore. We were "burned up."
On our grudge list we set opposite each name our injuries. Was it our self-esteem, our security, our ambitions, our personal, or sex relations, which had been interfered with?"
Page 64 Big Book

But that stuff about femininity sounds dangerous, like it's something your sponsor made up. My advice is, stick to the Big Book.

[Daktari]

Hey Daktari. They do mention sex as part of Step Four in the Big Book:

"In dealing with resentments, we set them on paper. We listed people, institutions or principles with whom we were angry. We asked ourselves why we were angry. In most cases it was found that our self-esteem, our pocketbooks, our ambitions, our personal relationships (including sex) were hurt or threatened. So we were sore. We were "burned up."
On our grudge list we set opposite each name our injuries. Was it our self-esteem, our security, our ambitions, our personal, or sex relations, which had been interfered with?"
Page 64 Big Book

But that stuff about femininity sounds dangerous, like it's something your sponsor made up. My advice is, stick to the Big Book.

Thanks ever so much for your reply, I'm sat with the horrible feelings I have about this and no-one local to talk with about it.

I can definitely say that it's not something my sponsor has made up. The document she has sent me is written in that very particular AA archaic (biblical) language so I'm gonna bet that it is from AA. I much prefer the Basic Text and modern language of NA which is what I read on a daily basis. :cheesy:

[Daktari]

Panic over.

Silly Ms.Sponse. didn't read the document fully and wasn't aware that looking at 'woman-ness' (whatever that means) and 'femininity' were there. Phew!

We're sacking that version and looking at other boxes/columns ways of doing this. Not that I'm a fan of the boxes and columns, it's not how my brain works but she's trying to find me a way of writing step 4 without, as she says, "...intellectualising the arse of it!"

Ms.Sponse. was doing her best and made a mistake is all. She's not perfect and is way too tall to need a pedestal. :cheesy:

I'm so grateful there's a thread here where folks understand more than just the addict/alcoholic aspects of my life. :chaplin:

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 15

Three Card Monty




When I learn to excel at the good games and learn to leave the bad ones alone I think I will be all right. Simple enough to do when I can take off this blindfold and see the long term consequences of my pursuits. Engage this pastime and have no future; abandon that play and squander hope. Eyes open wide, I see what there is to see, but around the corner I am lost for anticipatory sight and must guess at destinations let alone intention. Tricky, tricky, is this life which toys with me. I think I have the bow in hand, though as life rubs me wrong then right, I see I am played upon as much and as often as I play. I take up the reins, but must also be led, I can lay out the deal, but sometimes, I just have to roll the dice.



Speak with your friends


*

ANGLE OF RETURN

As in a hall of mirrors, it is sometimes hard to tell
If I am moving forward in my recovery
Likewise, as promises are fulfilled
Their obtuse arrival is a quandary

The juxtaposition of acute homecoming
Of former faculties is also startling
How the light reflects itself from sober face to sober face
From open heart to open mind, is the spectral of hope to me.

My soul seeks me day after day
Though I left it so far behind
It brings to me the person of God's intent
And my new acquaintance.

Patience, never my virtue, finds me stacked with packages
Delivered in piles so high I can't keep up with opening them
Never in my life have I known less about my future
Or felt more assured.

[Bad_boi]

3 years, 11 months. Wow, it has been a long time.

[Daktari]

Congrats on your achievement and on reaching another day clean :cheerleader:

[KCBUTCH]

I was in class today its about 4 weeks into the semester and we all pretty much sit in the same place so its not as if we aren't getting to know each other a bit, yet today it just so happened that my classmate notice my AA Medallion on my key chain hanging from my belt loop and asks how much time I had-I said 8yrs 10 months
turns out she has 5 years
looks like we are really everywhere

[KCBUTCH]

I just was told by my sponsor that my a FTM brother and friend was found dead in his apt on monday-
I recall I had relapsed 9 yrs ago and when I came back this friend Luc gave me a bracelete that said surrender on it- I hug it from my rearview mirror for all this time- it just broke about 2 weeks ago
I just saw him take a cake last week - so sad

[KCBUTCH]

I am saddened by the news of my FTM brother and friend of Bills died and the body wasn't found for days
But really breaks my heart was this was someone I admired and I just saw take a cake unfortunately I found out tonight it was a dirty cake and he died from what appears to be a heart attack from abusing his pain meds which apparently he had been doing fro some time- he took the cake last week.
It breaks my heart to think after all those years he he didn't die honorably or clean

[Bootsandheels]

Hi everyone, because of God and the amazing program of AA I just celebrated 12 years of sobriety on March 5th. I'm so grateful! I'm sorry KC for your loss! I had an ex 3 years ago who had 9 yrs sober and she abused her pain meds and went back out and is still out there as far as I know. Seeing her drunk for the very first time and go back out and stay out was excruciating. I'm so grateful I didn't drink and worked my program HARD when that happened. When I read your story earlier, I started praying and I will continue. Big sober hugs and love to all, Boots :stillheart:

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 16


Bad Acting

Because there never seems to be enough love in the world to fill the wound, my wounded self riots. At times the debauchery seems good natured enough, flamboyant yet without harm, at other times the disturbance is apparently violent and the issuing tumult a crime. All for want of wholeness and sanity I pursue shattered fractured activity just to keep from dwelling where I cannot live, where there is no air. I want land beneath my feet and full, full lungs; on my own I find neither of these and little else of use. Isolation even in a crowd is the tell tale sign that I am in the, me, myself and I mode of drowning in a teacup and require rescue. Little more than raising my hand above the surface and asking for help is needed though this is a Herculean effort as we all know. Rowing up stream is a bigger battle then it ever looks and I know the river runs through me.



Turn, turn, turn then rest


*

UNNECESSARY WORDS

I've spent years trying to put names on the streets in my 12 th step map post.
Clear signs with monikers easy to remember, themed and progressive
But I have been wasting my time, the map is there, no doubt.

I have seen people follow it to varying degrees.
The names are unnecessary, like ants, we trail each others scent.
We track so closely as not to loose visual contact, we don't play with our survival.

Or we are bees standing in front of the meeting
Doing the dance, which describes the path to sobriety
With meaningful jokes, and well earned tears.

As I stand at the foot of a few twenty-fours
And see the evolution of my recovery
I realize the names in the placards are ever-changing.

Meaning and value pour through the kaleidoscope of time
And come out as indescribable gifts, Which I can only give through action.
I will no longer fritter away my time looking for tags and titles

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 17

Suit up, Show up



I stand naked, paralyzed, unable to reach my intended destination or any destination at all. Goose flesh is no real motivation and I am reluctant to use the prod having only produced resistance and reversals with past applications of this weapon. Entreatment might work if only I could find the right one; then again anything might work if it were a fit. Covering my all-together is an action; taken judiciously it sometimes is all the arrival I can manage, taken disingenuously it precludes the chance for any further forward motion and may create set back or retreat. I should not attempt to hide fear with wardrobe though I can try to warm it. Façade building is best done with a bottle in tow
reality is best faced with a sponsor by my side.




Acknowledge pain, acknowledge joy


*

OLD BEARS

Cold and Despondent
Nothing comforts me like the bear of early sobriety

Bought on a day I thought I would shake apart
This fuzzy old guy has been a display item,
For many years now,
Tucked to the corner with the lace edged pillows and folded shawls.

Jittery and Sleepless
It's easy to panic.

I turn and see the amber eyes waiting for my embrace
His body clothed in a hand knit child's sweater made by a friend
The warmth of this snuggle is more than comfort
It is also the acceptance of loss.

Quelling the dramatic highs and lows of the beginning cost many things
And the depth of this is not lost in the moment.

Alone in my bed the passageways to the future appear to me
I must rest and then walk on
I cannot stall or simper, plain work is before me
And simple old bears a consolation.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 18

Malaria


Flailing, reaching, screaming; hiding, avoiding, misdirecting, theses are subsets in a list of extremes whose commonality is lacking, lacking humility. I fall to pieces just thinking of standing exposed, imperfect and unprotected. I’m not sure what I think will happen to me in this posture; instantaneous death? Couldn’t be, I’m not that lucky, nor am I foolish enough to think that I am that lucky. Possibly, I fear rancorous humiliation, but really who is powerful enough to do that to me? I know and like myself well enough to deflect obvious flying nonsense, so what is it that I do flee? I think it is the endless grinding inelegance of life, the stinging nettled nature of things, my inability to weave my way around my weakness and slip into the open unpoisoned. I fear exchanging peace for failure. Humility is when I know I cannot fail.



Be conscience of judgment and try not to react to it


*

WET BLANKET

I have carried this sodden thing with me all my life.
It's weight a burden for numerous years,
I have never been able to explain my continuing drag of this pitiful thing
Though it has been commented on by many.

My fidelity is boundless
In spite of inner questions and doubts.
Now that the fire is here I am glad to have it.
I pull it over me and step into the fray.

Thick and moist, I somehow struggle under its influence
And am able to do what others, bare of my encumbrance, cannot
I don't believe I can quench all the flames but I hope to help some to safety
And bat down the encroaching inferno a bit.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 19

If I name it do I know it?


Does emotional proximity necessitate a nearer name? Far off I would be called earthling possibly human. On this plain, female maybe woman; in this country Mrs. Theriault; in my home call me Sherrie, but in my bed hy calls me Baby. Do these names offer the requisite information, no further inquires required, is it personal enough? Is the limited nature a stunted interest from without or a privacy fence from within? Does the boundary shift dependant upon the participants or is it an almost universal standard of metered advance and reveal? And do I get more when I give more or does that end in less info and a change of direction? Also who determines what I really need to know? Wanting curiosity; my hungry mind and lonely heart do not direct all the world, yet ceaselessly they strive, shutter and ask again: Who are you?





Step toward yourself


*

JAG

I have the most interesting lawn ornament.
It is long and sleek, low to the ground,
Resting on rubber rolls,
Steep of side and languid front and back

It has glass, glass which slants
And glass which slops into its sides.
It's paint shines when I buff it
And shows dust when I don't.

Inside there are seats and many artistic accessories
I sit on the steps and admire the thing
Then I sit in the thing and admire the porch
That's all there was until I was handed the key.

[RockOn]

Remember our discussion about moderation this past weekend. I went into work yesterday morning, Ron, out of the blue, started talking about moderation too. I do not think it is a coincidence. It is too much "in my face" now.

Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. I have decided to stick around for the next 30+ years. There's so much more to learn. :) Be sure to tell Lisa I said HI. *wink* Lisa RAWKS!!! HEH HEH!

[Daktari]

March 19

If I name it do I know it?


Does emotional proximity necessitate a nearer name? Far off I would be called earthling possibly human. On this plain, female maybe woman; in this country Mrs. Theriault; in my home call me Sherrie, but in my bed hy calls me Baby. Do these names offer the requisite information, no further inquires required, is it personal enough? Is the limited nature a stunted interest from without or a privacy fence from within? Does the boundary shift dependant upon the participants or is it an almost universal standard of metered advance and reveal? And do I get more when I give more or does that end in less info and a change of direction? Also who determines what I really need to know? Wanting curiosity; my hungry mind and lonely heart do not direct all the world, yet ceaselessly they strive, shutter and ask again: Who are you?

Step toward yourself


*

JAG

I have the most interesting lawn ornament.
It is long and sleek, low to the ground,
Resting on rubber rolls,
Steep of side and languid front and back

It has glass, glass which slants
And glass which slops into its sides.
It's paint shines when I buff it
And shows dust when I don't.

Inside there are seats and many artistic accessories
I sit on the steps and admire the thing
Then I sit in the thing and admire the porch
That's all there was until I was handed the key.



This is just where I feel at. :sigh:

I'm askeered of what comes next, although wanting to embrace it and move on to a place I've never been before. Shining a light on the truth is gonna hurt and my addict brain wants to run for the hills; recovery brain says my HP won't let me fall and won't give me more than I can handle.
:praying:

Praying that Ms.Sponse is well enough for our step 3 sharing evening that we post-poned from last Wednesday to this one. I'm sure I'll explode if she's poorly-sick again :hamactor:

[RockOn]

Hi there, Daktari! You have a lot going for you in that you realize it is your "addict brain" telling you to run. I have been there and I am sure I will be there again at some point. For me, the more times I stuck it out, faced fear and pain and did not run, the more I was able to move forward and accept better things into my life. As I go along, I now realize when I have to do these recovery suggestions which involve facing fear or feeling pain, I can now rest assured I won't die from going on and marching through it.

Hang in there!
Best wishes!
Brock

[KCBUTCH]

This is just where I feel at. :sigh:

I'm askeered of what comes next, although wanting to embrace it and move on to a place I've never been before. Shining a light on the truth is gonna hurt and my addict brain wants to run for the hills; recovery brain says my HP won't let me fall and won't give me more than I can handle.
:praying:

Praying that Ms.Sponse is well enough for our step 3 sharing evening that we post-poned from last Wednesday to this one. I'm sure I'll explode if she's poorly-sick again :hamactor:

The one thing we know to do is RUN, it has served us in the past, but the gift is in front you begging you please accept me, Be still and know all will be OK
"My sponsor always tell me G-d did not save me from drowning in the ocean to let me drown in the bathtub"

Its uncomfortable but only for a short time, it sucks and hurts and makes us want to crawl out of our skin, but if you can be still and just let yourself go through this short moment the next time will be easier and the time after that even more so
Hang in there buddy

[ManOMan]

"Praying that Ms.Sponse is well enough for our step 3 sharing evening that we post-poned from last Wednesday to this one. I'm sure I'll explode if she's poorly-sick again..."


I can't help but notice you're talking about step 3.

Might I suggest that if your sponsor isn't available that, in the meantime, you find someone else with time that you trust to share with. It's a good idea to release pressure in a positive way. Then you can fill your sponsor in later.

Just my 2cents worth.

[Soft*Silver]

when I first got back to Ohio, I went to meetings. I quit, because I had a woman stalking me in the meetings. I tried a few months ago, to go back, and again, the same woman and then a man started to pursue me. And they just dont take no for an answer. Even tho I am engaged to be married, they still wouldnt leave me alone.

So, rather than dealing with it, I just stay away from meetings. And its pissing me off. I dont know what to do.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 20

Bent, Spindled, Mutilated


Injury changes memory, not just the memory of the individual trauma, but the very nature of the mind. The hooks and loops distort and I can’t hold on as I once did. The misses and disconnects become more frequent, then they become expected. Emotional fluff-ups do not suffice, the hardware is damaged and a positive attitude is advisable but the pliers are a necessity. Some things are easier to break than to repair, in fact most things are easier to break, no skill required, though some take it on as skill, most destruction is ignorant or accidental, nothing personal just a part of a pain filled landscape. Direct intervention is not the same as hands-free degradation, though both have their cost. Redemption, restoration, is sought from all comers. Possibilities and probabilities stack; action is a relief, whether or not it is a fix. I take a breath to face the final blow, for when the cost adds up and I look for recompense all I hear is the check is in the mail.





Line the bin so the ick won’t stick

*

20 CART PILEUP

What's the problem here?
Asks my sponsor, as she approaches my apparent impasse.
Well, I've been trying to get these carts lined up
What do you think of my progress?
How many carts do you have here?
A few, quite a few, why?
And how many horses? She asks
Just the one, the same as everyone else, I answer.
And where is this poor animal?
Back here.
Behind the carts
OK, we have a twofold problem here.
First, one horse can handle only one cart.
So pick ONE
Second, that sad creature needs to be in the proper position
To do any good at all.
You had best figure out a way to get him in front
Or you will remain stuck
Even after you whittle down your burden.
I was stunned
She went to her cart
Climbed to the seat
And took the reins
How long did it take you to get yours like that? I ask
Honey it takes every day.
Don't kid yourself
I wake up every morning with the same train wreck
Your standing in now.
Learn to sort faster
And you'll have the rest of today
You can start over
With us tomorrow.

[RockOn]

KCBUTCH is right. It is so damned uncomfortable because we have to step away from our natural inclinations into the unfamiliar. With this program, I no longer have to be "a cut-and-run backdoor Brock." I like me much better this way. All that dodging, ducking and running was wearing me out. I do not miss the pitiful incomprehensible demoralization one bit.

Today, I exit through front doors without holding my head down in shame.

Pretty good deal - this recovery stuff. :)

[Daktari]

Hi there, Daktari! You have a lot going for you in that you realize it is your "addict brain" telling you to run. I have been there and I am sure I will be there again at some point. For me, the more times I stuck it out, faced fear and pain and did not run, the more I was able to move forward and accept better things into my life. As I go along, I now realize when I have to do these recovery suggestions which involve facing fear or feeling pain, I can now rest assured I won't die from going on and marching through it.

Hang in there!
Best wishes!
Brock

The one thing we know to do is RUN, it has served us in the past, but the gift is in front you begging you please accept me, Be still and know all will be OK
"My sponsor always tell me G-d did not save me from drowning in the ocean to let me drown in the bathtub"

Its uncomfortable but only for a short time, it sucks and hurts and makes us want to crawl out of our skin, but if you can be still and just let yourself go through this short moment the next time will be easier and the time after that even more so
Hang in there buddy

"Praying that Ms.Sponse is well enough for our step 3 sharing evening that we post-poned from last Wednesday to this one. I'm sure I'll explode if she's poorly-sick again..."


I can't help but notice you're talking about step 3.

Might I suggest that if your sponsor isn't available that, in the meantime, you find someone else with time that you trust to share with. It's a good idea to release pressure in a positive way. Then you can fill your sponsor in later.

Just my 2cents worth.

KCBUTCH is right. It is so damned uncomfortable because we have to step away from our natural inclinations into the unfamiliar. With this program, I no longer have to be "a cut-and-run backdoor Brock." I like me much better this way. All that dodging, ducking and running was wearing me out. I do not miss the pitiful incomprehensible demoralization one bit.

Today, I exit through front doors without holding my head down in shame.

Pretty good deal - this recovery stuff. :)


Awww you lot are fab...thanks, thanks ever so much for your posts -support, ideas, suggestions, and above all reassurance.

I'm lucky that don't have to even think about sharing step 3 with anyone but my sponsor. Just couldn't do it. I think I have one of the best of the very limited pool of females in the fellowship in this area, there aren't any others that I would trust enough to share a step with...maybe Granny Sponse., despite not having met her in person yet.

It amuses me that as the 'baby' in a line of sponsorship, I'm the oldest by a decade+ :cheesy:

Yanno, I like that my addict brain has it's own personality and is getting easier to identify. There are still lots of days I surrender to it but I feel comforted by the knowledge that the more I do 'this stuff' and the work my sponsor expects of me, the easier it is to identify when it's (addict brain) vying for or has control.

It's hearing folks like yourselves and the people in the rooms share that they faced and moved through the fear and pain, only to come out the other side saying it's one of the most loving things they've ever done for themselves that I'm holding onto for dear life....let's face it, this stuff can mean life, death or worse, a living death. :|

This is the point that I avoided first time round. Avoiding it led to ultimately, after a very long time, to picking up the drug that has been most destructive for me again. I will not, cannot, avoid it again.

I suspect the Bat Addict signal will be up again before too very long as I share step three tonight and we talk about how I'm gonna tackle step 4, without "...analysing the arse out of it." and "...trying to write the great recovery novel". Ms Sponsoliscious knows me so well :blush:

Thank-you again for your input and suggestions...I'm so very grateful you lot are here :pile:

Yeah, this recovery stuff is a bloody good deal :thumbsup:

[ManOMan]

when I first got back to Ohio, I went to meetings. I quit, because I had a woman stalking me in the meetings. I tried a few months ago, to go back, and again, the same woman and then a man started to pursue me. And they just dont take no for an answer. Even tho I am engaged to be married, they still wouldnt leave me alone.

So, rather than dealing with it, I just stay away from meetings. And its pissing me off. I dont know what to do.


Wow, I'd be stark raving sober if I didn't get to meetings. I'm in a min. of 3 a week (and that really is the minimum)....and I've got 26 years.

Do you have a sponsor to talk to about this? In my neck of the woods the old-timer women blast guys that are inappropriate with women in the rooms. Seriously.

Please consider talking to some other women about this. I'd hate to see you go out behind this. I've seen that happen OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Meetings are critical to sobriety.

If you want to talk more about this you can pm me.

- Kevin

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 21


When is enough, enough?


“What is the difference between full and all? Don’t know? Well, let me tell you,” said my sponsor with a wink. “Full is when the broccoli that went perfectly with the entrée leaves a pleasant smile on your face, full is when the arrow on the gas gauge points to F, these are little indicators of full. Indications that you have reached all: the wet scary feeling in your mouth after your second piece of pie, all is the gas pouring down the side of your car because you have to try to squeeze more in.”
“Yes, yes,” I reply, “I know when I’ve overdone it; I resent everyone or at least I am cranky about everything. I know when I’m under doing it, too; I get either a lost feeling or the sense that I should be in charge, but how do I really know that I am doing enough?”
“If your sponsor has a good idea of where you are mentally, physically and spiritually; if the people in your home group can count on you to contribute service regularly. If most people in most meetings know not just your face, but also your name. If your sponsees freely admit that you are their sponsor, those are sure signs. Though the biggest signal for me is how constant my contact is. If I’m reluctant to pray I’m usually not doing enough of something.”




Learn from pain

*

MATH

If this is the solution why aren't I happy?
I ask my sponsor in a piteous whine.
You've run the equation and the solution equals happiness?
She queries, that's the whole and total answer?
How many times did you go through the computations?

What's your point?
Are you saying happiness isn't the answer?
What about joy and freedom?
I heard someone say that was the goal
I know that's what I heard.

Let's think about it for a hot second
What would you think
If I worked the steps as hard as I do
And as a result walked around in a perpetual grin?
I'd think you had lost your mind.

So you're telling me you believe
The product of recovery is idiocy?
The thing we all are aspiring to is bliss and nothing but?
No, I guess not.
Then what is the solution for you? I ask.

A tally which fits the day I'm having
Joy sometimes fits that bill
But other days it's sadness or concern
There have been days when disbelief
And dismay were part of the appropriate response.

For me, the solution is having an equation
That helps me respond to life
Instead of reacting to it.
That's better than unending happiness
That's wholeness she said with a grin

[ManOMan]

I'm feeling a big internal shift happening again in my life. This is nothing new. Been there. Done that. Have the shirt. In fact I'm actually pretty excited about it.

When I was new change scared me...a lot. I was so trying to get my feet on the ground that when it started to move I was at a loss. I didn't have alcohol or 'party favors' to take the edge off. The process was alien to me.

I'm really grateful that I had people then and now to make this journey possible. God, expressing as the Fellowship, is what has bolstered me up when I needed it and allowed me to return the favor.

It's all Good. :praying:

- Kevin

[RockOn]

EDIT:

Hi Friend, I am responding to post of yours. It is not your last post but a couple posts back.

END EDIT



There's an attractive red-haired guy who comes to meetings all around town. He has never been sober or even tried to be -he does a lot of drugs. Anyway, his purpose is to pick up good-looking newbie young women at meetings. When I see him in meetings, I stay after and observe him. Soon as he starts conversing with his next victim, I go over and make sure I am loud when I tell her to stay away from him because he is nothing but a sexual predator and she won't be able to get sober ever if she hangs with him. It is not 30 seconds and other women come over, chime in, back me up.

[Daktari]

Yeah, we have a guy or two in this area who are still using and prey on female newcomers. There are quite a number of females and female bodied folks (me) who now monitor this guy's behaviour at meetings and we don't allow him to spend time alone with newcomers. We found he was then preying on the newcomers outside meetings when on public transport to and from meetings. We now try to ensure that female newcomers get lifts wherever possible, just whilst they gain a little strength of their own to deal with this chump.

I suspect that local members are well aware of these folks behaviour in your area; I would suggest speaking to the group servants quietly, or taking the issue to the next group conscience meeting if you feel unable to deal with it on your own...and really, why should you deal with on your own, this is a 'we' programme.

In the NA fellowship there is an IP literature leaflet that deals with inappropriate behaviour at meetings which covers situations like this and others. Does AA have a similar piece of lit.?

Nothing and no-one should keep you from attending the meetings you wish to attend.

I hope you resolve this so that you can go back to meetings comfortably and get re-filled with hope and gratitude.

ILF

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 22

Clever Me

I am clever, I am so clever, everyone knows it and I know it, too. So, why do I get slam stuck on the very simple things required to keep my life running smoothly? I know what needs to be done, yet have no clue as to how to accomplish these threads of minutia. I stall; panic, plod, pout. When I do force myself to do it I end up creating either a new pile of impossible incidentals or some anticlimactic end, but secret solutions are as of yet undiscovered. The whip, the lash and the club avail nothing though sweet enticements do no better. I pray, “Dear G-d please help me!” but this has no point, I don’t want the help, I am afraid of the help, I am afraid of the change and of course who wouldn’t be? Beyond here lay someone I don’t know, someone I only fear, beyond here lay the fearless me and I am clever enough to be afraid of her.



Fill the potholes in your thinking



*

THE PROCESS

The mountains don't wash away like sandcastles
The amount of persistence required is far greater.
Acorns don't work like sunflowers
Not everything is instant gratification.

Marathons aren't run in seconds
If you don't love the whole adventure, pick a smaller goal
There is no shame in sunflowers or sandcastles or microwave popcorn
As long as you want it and hold it in esteem

Time-consuming, life-consuming journeys
Have a high price in boredom
And are not worth the consumption
If that is not where your heart leads you

You don't have to love washing the pans
To be a good baker
But it helps
Peace is in the process.

[nanners]

Hi, I'm new to this thread, and pretty new to this site, although I registered quite some time back, I only came back every couple months, so I really don't know many people except those I knew from BF Dance.

Long story short, I am now in recovery, for 2 addictions. OA (Overeaters Anonymous) and DA (Debtor's Anonymous) and attend weekly meetings and have a sponsor for each program. I'm glad to see this thread, and will probably post in it a bit.

Right now, my biggest struggle is going off sugar again (I was off sugar for almost 6 months, then had a relapse last month when a friend died that I had been taking care of, he was a using alcoholic and died from liver disease and AIDS). I am ready to dive deep into my program, starting at Step One again. :praying:

Thank you all for being here! :pile:

[Daktari]

Hey nanners, welcome to the thread :chaplin:

[Sweetfeme]

I am in 2 twelve step programs and so grateful I have found this thread!!
Like one of the posters above I too am right infront of a big shift in my life, a huge release is about to come and I am scared to death of where it leaves me.
I am though also REALLY looking forward to it because I KNOW there is a GIFT on the otherside!!

Have a blessed day!! :bunchflowers:

[Daktari]

Welcome to the thread Sweetfeme :chaplin:

I identify; I'm another who is facing up to mega change in my physical, mental and emotional landscape. Like you, despite being skeered silly, I'm pretty excited about what's to come.

Step 3 update:
What an amazing evening we had sharing of ourselves. We shall finish sharing the step next week. I'm so grateful that each time we do this stuff I learn more about Ms.Sponsorliscious and feel more able to trust her as we go along in the process.

Thanks again to Sherrie and all you who share your experience, strength and hope when asked to do so. :cheesy:

[DMW]

I was pondering regarding difficulties with step 3.
I remind myself the concept of " progress and not perfection"
I am not perfect...ego and self will run riot will try and convince
Me that I can be and that i am in total control of everything.
I am not really in control. Higher Power knows that I am not perfect.
Letting go of the idea and self will and control...is freedom from
The bondage of self.

Thanks for sharing All,
Gotta go to work.

[ManOMan]

In the NA fellowship there is an IP literature leaflet that deals with inappropriate behaviour at meetings which covers situations like this and others. Does AA have a similar piece of lit.?

ILF [/COLOR][/QUOTE]

If there is such a pamphlet in AA, I am unaware of it. I happen to have the literature commitment at my Wed. night meeting, so the next time I go to the central office I can ask.

Actually at that particular meeting we have an old guy (83) that's inappropriate in general. He claims 32 years, but he's still an A-hole. He's also got the beginning stages of Alzheimer's and it exacerbates the situation. I think it's the only meeting he's physically able to get to. We've had several conversations and the secretary called NY. What they said was the secretary can 86 someone. We've all prayed a lot about this. What we came up with is that he as an assigned chair that keeps him in the back of the room. He's been told that if he doesn't like it, there's the door.

'Our common welfare should come first', so if there are people that push beyond the scope of "Love and tolerance", they can be asked to leave.

I'm glad that there are people that are willing to get involved to make meetings a safe place for everyone. Meetings are way too important.

[ManOMan]

I am in 2 twelve step programs and so grateful I have found this thread!!
Like one of the posters above I too am right infront of a big shift in my life, a huge release is about to come and I am scared to death of where it leaves me.
I am though also REALLY looking forward to it because I KNOW there is a GIFT on the otherside!!

Have a blessed day!! :bunchflowers:


Ain't growth grand - LOL!

I've been able to get through a lot of very hairy stuff and still not pick up.
Have I done it all gracefully? Not! But that has gotten easier with time.

I'm grateful for my spiritual practice. Without my prayer and meditation,
my life would be very, very different.

[nanners]

I did it! I was abstinent from sugar all day yesterday, even through a sad time of my friend having to put her two dogs down...previously I would have stopped at a store on my way home and gotten something with loads of sugar in it and started eating it in the car before I even got home.

But, I did it...with ease....who know why some days are easier than others, but all I can do is thank my HP for that.

Have to get ready for my OA meeting now...

Have a blessed day!

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 23

Suddenly


Creeping realization has never been my experience with G-d’s handy work in my kitchen. I start out making a mess and I find in short order that G-d has made a meal; fit food for apt hunger. I could throw myself into the kneading and shaping, but without the yeast which is so freely given I have no bread; only a lump that will choke me in the end. Even my very own abilities are gifts I was incapable of offering to myself and are only found here in my possession through sheer grace. I have woken up with my face saliva glued to the table top far too often only to discover my Higher Power doing and I am grateful; for without that action I would be un-done.



Learn to live with the shadow of the moon


*


HOW RED IS RED

I check my color and contrast
I paint the setting sun
Add a bit of yellow
And fill to the edge burgeoning poppies

Add more blue and paint the blood
Which pools around my mind
The equalizer of all my mental conversations

Too much is never enough, as the story goes
I pursue my shades and signatures
Too much for the fingers and not enough for the toes
I disregard fraudulent crimson

I scale the mountains of intention looking for perfection
The leach of my addiction drains the other colors from my rainbow
My sponsor asks only one question
"How red is red?"

[Daktari]

I did it! I was abstinent from sugar all day yesterday, even through a sad time of my friend having to put her two dogs down...previously I would have stopped at a store on my way home and gotten something with loads of sugar in it and started eating it in the car before I even got home.

But, I did it...with ease....who know why some days are easier than others, but all I can do is thank my HP for that.

Have to get ready for my OA meeting now...

Have a blessed day!

There in lies the secret, you didn't do it alone, your HP gave you the tools to deal with...

No matter what, where I cannot we can!

Good going on 24hrs without sugar. :cheerleader:

[Gráinne]

Way to go; I think sugar is really hard to stay abstinent from. It's almost culturally acceptable, even expected, to splurge on sweets.

Again, not to get off the subject, but sugars are very closely related on a molecular level to alcohols, and break down in the body to similar substances.

[Sweetfeme]

Way to go; I think sugar is really hard to stay abstinent from. It's almost culturally acceptable, even expected, to splurge on sweets.

Again, not to get off the subject, but sugars are very closely related on a molecular level to alcohols, and break down in the body to similar substances.

You are correct! As well an addict is an addict. It is the compulsion, the cycle of addiction we can all identify with.

[ManOMan]

I did it! I was abstinent from sugar all day yesterday, even through a sad time of my friend having to put her two dogs down...previously I would have stopped at a store on my way home and gotten something with loads of sugar in it and started eating it in the car before I even got home.

But, I did it...with ease....who know why some days are easier than others, but all I can do is thank my HP for that.

Have to get ready for my OA meeting now...

Have a blessed day!


One day can turn into two and then three. Stay close, stay prayed up.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 24

Water Buddha


The longer on the river I am the less I fear the river. I still don’t know what lay ahead, anything may wait for me just around the next bend, but I fear this less and less. Experience is a great foundation no matter what you are building or in which direction. I’ve gotten my sea-legs, a sure sign of the mind cooperating with the realities the body is experiencing. I have learned to avoid some forms of trouble and anticipate fortune more often. Further on could be waterfall, ocean, dam; I will contend with any or all, come what may, for when it comes to riding the river I have learned the most important thing: I don’t need to push.



Be left, be right, be yourself



*

THE ORDER

I can't expect delivery if I haven't placed the order
I never seem to know what I want
Until after I have accepted something else.

I can remember thinking order meant procedure not procurement
Set the table, not end my hunger
I focused on rational intent and turned my face from desire

Assailing outcomes leads to disappointments
Asking for a hole to be filled may cause dumping
Not management or conservation

It's good to have a plan before signing the requisition
Please help me know who I am
So I know what I want

I can make a request and stop accepting orders of attack
Don't let me order the end
While I am still at the beginning

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 25

Two X’s


I play sport at the three X folks and their still sometimes skewed thinking. Yet, I attack myself for feeling like a babe in the woods. Old and wise should be my stock and trade by now though I find vastness at my door regularly and confidence struggles to peek in the window. What in the world will I do if I can’t perfect this stuff soon? Hopefully nothing as foolish as fretting or anything as mean spirited as accusation, possibly I could try reception. Truly this only comes in gift wrap and after twenty years I would hope I had learned to live in the present.



Think kindly of chickens if not of cowards



*

THE ORPHANAGE OF MY HEART

The orphanage of my heart hold many children of the past
They gaze at me
Fixed in an attempt to draw me near their needs

I scurry, often my head down, eyes averted
Not knowing how to offer comfort or consideration
To these hapless souls.

Fearing the largess of poverty
I decline to open my small purse
What could I tender
Other than a tease?

Nearly barren, in my heartbroken, disconsolate, inconsolable state,
I rarely even obligate myself to extending my hand
This is the pit of my idiocy

These wee ones have the world of hope and strength to give
I am their offertory
I am the place where their gold resides
They live inside me to fill me and bind me to life and light

I flee them in the height of misunderstanding
Disconnected from these inner spirits I am impoverished
And far too weak to grasp their help

I too fogged to see the world within
Starve in the world without

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 26

Whirly Gigs



Pivot points and reference points subtlety disguised as harmless bric-a-brac escape my comprehension until I either stumble or land on one or the other and ponder the affect. Realization that much of my life’s contentment hinges like a door shocks me, though I don’t know why it should. Isn’t it the way of things that it all turns on a whim or at the very least hangs on fine gauged calculation? I am not the capricious vixen I accuse myself of; I am however human and given to a certain amount of fickle fussy frenzy which all reckons out given enough perspective and wit.





Resuscitate inspiration


*


CALIBRATE COINCIDENCE

Do good
Do right
Line up with the next movement

Get the universe into the sprockets of my desires
And make the miracles flow in my direction
Ah, The boy scout merit badge of sobriety

I force spiritual alchemy through the pasta maker
Of my small life
Expecting gold

And where is God?
Where is the realness of reality?
Where is my place in this hairy mess?

Well, who knows
Am I the Wizard, the Chemist?
The mechanic of the galaxy?

Though I wish and hope
In truth I am not the one who calibrates coincidence
I am the receiver of.

[nanners]

Thanks everyone for your encouragement! No, we can not do it alone!! We just CAN'T!

And yesterday was my 4th day of abstinence from sugar. I feel confident about today being my 5th day. I spent part of yesterday with a program friend of mine who talked me through an issue I have with another friend that I was upset about and by the time I left her place I was doing much better, but also had a lot to think about and to pray about.

LeftWriteFemme, thank you so much for this thread and your postings....I really like the one about the River, and I think I'm going to print that out and keep it with my program readings. It really spoke to me.

I am glad to have you all here, it really does brighten my day.

In gratitude,

Nan

[o222Good]

In the NA fellowship there is an IP literature leaflet that deals with inappropriate behaviour at meetings which covers situations like this and others. Does AA have a similar piece of lit.?

This is from Page 119 of the 12 and 12:
"It is only where "boy meets girl on A.A. campus," and love follows at first sight, that difficulties may develop. The prospective partners need to be solid A.A's and long enough acquainted to know that their compatibility at spiritual, mental, and emotional levels is a fact and not wishful thinking. They need to be sure as possible that no deep-lying emotional handicap in either will be likely to rise up under pressures to cripple them."

It's known as the 13th Step and usually is not good. An oldtimer once said, "Do not do the Steps out of order, and that goes for the 13th Step too!"

13th Steppers are frowned upon. Group officers should nip it in the bud! Going up to the offender and telling them to discuss it with their sponsor is good. (Many times it turns out they don't have a sponsor, which is where the problem lies in the first place!)

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 27

New Borne


What happens when you finally get what you want, what you barely dared to dream? What happens when you can hardly do more than drip tears down from smiling eyes? Where do you go with a future filled with proposed joy? Heaven is an option if only you believed, but hell has been such a perennial destination it’s hard to realize there will be no return trip this year or possibly ever again. The work required to change from an attitude of longing to one of satisfaction is as real as all the work needed thus far. Tending love is a host of disciplines I want to step to, like I have done it all my life, like I was born to do it and I was, yet, still growth is accompanied by its own pain and awkwardness and who am I to deny this treat. Any new life worth living is worth the pain to bear it.




Turn up your smile

*


FEELINGS

Getting my feelings back
Was like a package delivered.
Not a letter bomb
More like live squid or bait of some kind
It was something to catch me out there.

I think overcoming the shock
Was more or less the small part
Though it seemed to loom at the time.
The squirming, the writhing of my soul
Was like a pregnancy following a bad dream.

I wondered how this became a part of me.
I squandered my days
Hoping it would leave quietly some night soon.
Like all difficult relationships
I attempted to hold my breath through it.

Failing this, I tried to offer my feelings a guest wing in my heart
And a never ending supply of tea and cookies.
When the reality of life with feelings planted itself firmly in me
I let out my breath, stopped the hostess act
And endeavored to roll with it.

This worked well.
I have since invested in a wet-suit and fins
The squid are much easier to live with
When I meet them on their turf.

[Daktari]

This is from Page 119 of the 12 and 12:
"It is only where "boy meets girl on A.A. campus," and love follows at first sight, that difficulties may develop. The prospective partners need to be solid A.A's and long enough acquainted to know that their compatibility at spiritual, mental, and emotional levels is a fact and not wishful thinking. They need to be sure as possible that no deep-lying emotional handicap in either will be likely to rise up under pressures to cripple them."

It's known as the 13th Step and usually is not good. An oldtimer once said, "Do not do the Steps out of order, and that goes for the 13th Step too!"

13th Steppers are frowned upon. Group officers should nip it in the bud! Going up to the offender and telling them to discuss it with their sponsor is good. (Many times it turns out they don't have a sponsor, which is where the problem lies in the first place!)


Thanks o222good, I heard about the 13 steppers. Infact as a wee 22yr old active alchy I was prey to more than one or two when I came to the fellowships in the 80s :|

However, it wasn't me who was wanting advice about what to do when encountering such behaviour in meetings. I was just trying help, like yourself.

I've been looking for an online pdf copy of the NA 'behaviour in meetings' leaflet but can't find one.

I'm really surprised that AA doesn't have the same.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 28

Feelings/Facts

Delay is when I don’t deal with the tack, don’t deal with the finish nail, land up with a 12 penny in my heel and think about waiting for the railroad spike. Rebellion is when I run through the razor-wire fence expecting to make a clean get away. If I don’t socialize my problems when they are puppies all hope is lost when faced with the big dogs. Exiting out the fifth story window is suicide in fact, but in my thinking I am merely rebelling. Willingness and cooperation make a dynamic duo; powerful combatants of delay, rebellion, many other joy killing, life stealing foe. A life led with cooperation and willingness is not necessarily perfection, but it often feels that way.




Coax loose your tangled frustrations



*

FUTURE TENTS

The future seeps in through the windows
Like the dawn steeling across the sky
Once I inhale it, I am out of doors
Only the lightest of canvas covering me

The opening, flaps in the breeze
The wind of unbidden things echoes
Off the wall of people
Shut out from this adventure

I brace myself for the cutting current
But am greeted by the softest of zephyrs
I duck out
I stand unfettered

Lonely whispers call
But I am isolated
The scene is empty, serene and beautiful
There are other tents

Other seekers standing on other hills
But they see their own futures
From the vantage of their own tents
And thankfully I am left to see mine

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 29

Yes, Virginia there is a solution

Suspended in the colloid of sobriety the overly large molecule, which is me, finds a fix I couldn’t imagine. I can get better, I do get better, I have a set of values to substitute into the old equations. I now live in a mixture where there is one thing in common and all the rest are variants which ordinarily don’t mix. The scientific method is entry to homogenous living; a concept that never made it to the table in my days as a rogue element. And with all this on board, the thing I love the best is that it grows; what I can do and how I can do it is an ever widening frame of reference, even things which were once outside of my view are now possible. I am grateful that there is a solution; I am amazed that it is the solution to everything.





Rethink awkward restriction


*

CRAZY

I try on crazy
The way I sometimes get out the jump rope
And see if all those muscles still work.

The unemployed, unexploited
Fallow nature of my once fertile insanity
Saddens me in an odd way

Today is a place
I stand in stiff comfort
Even though it has taken concerted effort to get here

There are days I slip from reality
The way I can slip off a chair
I no longer allow myself to lounge on the floor

Pride is not so much the issue as hygiene
Crazy is bad for my health
I gave it up like cigarettes or romance novels

I don't have enough time
Or insurance for these dalliances
Though I do remember them all with fondness

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 30

Catalog of Growth




The right seed in the right season grows a garden of miracles for me. I get the food for my table or the stores for winter, sometimes when I’m in a Jack like predicament, right planted seeds can provide a bean stalk of escape from my restricted life. I have a role to play with these wonders. I must sort the seeds from the pebbles. I must let the kernels out of my pocket and into the ground. I water when I can and harvest what comes to fruition. Though the best by far is the part when I get to share the seeds.






Putter in your emotional garden

*



RAIN

The rain makes shadows of water
It spills onto the ground like tiny worlds
What had been airborne and mist
Is now earthbound and integral
Feeding, cutting, learning the world

Once I contemplated theories and mystery
Now washing dishes is a spiritual service
The view was lovely when I was above it all
But now I course through the veins of life

There may come a time when I am untouchable again
But by then I will have been a part of it all
I will carry the world with me always
An orbiting servant
Not just above but through

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 31

Face and Ass


“It is hard to save your face and save your ass at the same time.”

What I haven’t tried in an attempt to live my life as a showman spotlight front and center. What I wouldn’t sacrifice to keep peace and image intact, but in the end it was just that, my end, that saved me from a life chasing prevention of defacement. I can’t live with the posture of an ostrich it leaves so much at risk. Hiding my face won’t protect it no matter how much I wish it would. I have to put my butt in a seat, a seat up front where folks get to know my face. I have to try my best yet still make mistakes and let people know my ass as well. Being a part of AA saves my behind, once that is cosseted, my face might just get its day in the sun.



Don’t invite ridicule, but deal with it if it comes knocking at your door

*


PADUANS

The pussy willows bloom
Looking much like crested poultry
The coldest part of my heart
Is fighting to thaw in this early spring

Weather is not of the mind to be rushed
My hopes nor the changing calendar
Can persuade the warmth into the May morning
It's May for me too

No longer the early sobriety of January
The years have marched on
I wait for the delivery of my returning brains
Long-term sobriety has begun

I am still beset with the chill of fragility
I desire dignity but find myself strutting
Like a fowl with blooming plumage
Addled and gawky

Don't worry says my sponsor
The pussy willow is in no way less
For showing itself
In the rawness of growth

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 1


Why is it so hard to be me?

I have everything I could wish for. I have love and friendship, I have talent and ability. What more could I want? I don’t want more, I want to learn how to overcome fear and live with disappointment. Abundance is ever at the door, but I have no room for plenty. Reassurance is the thing I chase after, yearn for, pine about, but it is an illusive thing like taking hold of smoke. Allusion is the gift-wrap of reality the unwrapping often puts me off the contents; regaining my composure and reestablishing willingness is a difficult job requiring dedication and fortitude. The barrier before the carefree me is thought the strongest of all substance. I must heal the calcifications of my mind and resist rigidity. My thinking is what makes being me problematic without it I am nothing at all.





Free fun from the shackles of expectation




*

ACCEPTANCE, ACTION, CHANGE

Acceptance equals action
Without action, acceptance is a death sentence
Action puts me in the hands of my Higher power
Inaction puts me at the mercy of others or worse self-justification
For acceptance to glow with life it must be moving

Action equals change
Action without change is repetition
The moon does not change
It orbits flat on it's face, forever dark on one side
And a mere reflection on the other

Change equals acceptance
Change sparks possibilities in mundane endeavor
Change without acceptance is a walk off a cliff
For change to endure, agreement is necessary
A one-sided argument is fascism and fraudulence

The heart of change is acceptance
Beating the blood of hope to the extremities
Whether we circle the heavens
Or the bowl depends on the cohesion of
Acceptance, Action and Change

[KCBUTCH]

Off to 1230 mtg...have a great day

[Daktari]

Loved today's pieces Sherrie; they're especially apt for me.

I understand more and more about how acceptance and action (along with willingness, being open-minded and honest) facilitate change nowadays.

It was my first main share at the meeting this evening :| I'm so relieved it's over; however there was some lovely positive feedback, it was quite touching. :cheesy:

Ilf :tea:

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 2


Clock and Calendar Girl


I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through. The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder; I climb from month to month and age to age. When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more. Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain. Take away my clock and I go deaf, remove my calendar and I go blind. Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound.




Address your future


*

THE SCULPTOR

Stuck in a block, my sponsor chips away at me
I struggle to hold still
With surgical precision she cuts through the debris
With which I have surrounded myself

After my sponsor frees my hand and arm
She places a hammer in my open fingers
When the other arm and hand are rescued
She places a chisel in that hand

This is how before my head showed above the surface
I began to help in my own restoration
I am the sculptor
The program has made me

Recovery has taught me
I can be anything
If I keep chipping away
At the things which hold me hostage

As time travels on I am a new shape
With each turn through the steps
And have an ever lustrous finish
With every application of the traditions

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 3



Unfettered


“The difference between a demand and a request is apparent to everyone.” A drunk once said this and I hold it to my heart. I can not be bullied or swindled into a corner; neither will I allow you to put a rope around my neck like a wayward calf. I obey because it works for me and if you teach me that you are untrustworthy or careless I will obey you no longer, this doesn’t make me less obedient it just takes you out of the lead. Sometimes I hold the reins and most times they are in the hands of G-d, but never shall my reins be in the hands of another, this is what I drank over and this is what I could drink over again. No one person is my salvation and I cannot allow anyone to be my demise. If you consume me like a drink, I will kill you as surely as any drug.





Hobble disrespect


*

STOP TALKING

Try to stop talking when people stop listening said my sponsor
And try not to take it personally
Why is that? I query

Most individuals can't handle much of anything real
Try as they may they are unable to listen
To anyone speaking the truth

Tell them a story and you can hold their attention all day
Sprinkle bits of honesty into the tale
And you still will keep your audience

But strafe them with bullets of the truth and they run for cover
I've seen it happen, I never knew what made them scurry
But I have seen them sprint away

It's a coping mechanism
If you try to turn their heart too quickly
They're afraid it will stop beating

Why is it you never worry about that with me?
You tell me the facts whether I want to hear them or not
I can tell you because you take step three

[oksoftbutch]

WOW....I like this... shame on someone for inspiring this....but you put it so well...


April 3



Unfettered


“The difference between a demand and a request is apparent to everyone.” A drunk once said this and I hold it to my heart. I can not be bullied or swindled into a corner; neither will I allow you to put a rope around my neck like a wayward calf. I obey because it works for me and if you teach me that you are untrustworthy or careless I will obey you no longer, this doesn’t make me less obedient it just takes you out of the lead. Sometimes I hold the reins and most times they are in the hands of G-d, but never shall my reins be in the hands of another, this is what I drank over and this is what I could drink over again. No one person is my salvation and I cannot allow anyone to be my demise. If you consume me like a drink, I will kill you as surely as any drug.




Hobble disrespect


*

STOP TALKING

Try to stop talking when people stop listening said my sponsor
And try not to take it personally
Why is that? I query

Most individuals can't handle much of anything real
Try as they may they are unable to listen
To anyone speaking the truth

Tell them a story and you can hold their attention all day
Sprinkle bits of honesty into the tale
And you still will keep your audience

But strafe them with bullets of the truth and they run for cover
I've seen it happen, I never knew what made them scurry
But I have seen them sprint away

It's a coping mechanism
If you try to turn their heart too quickly
They're afraid it will stop beating

Why is it you never worry about that with me?
You tell me the facts whether I want to hear them or not
I can tell you because you take step three

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 4

Give Me a Goose Any Day

The geese breaking wind resistance, the close ones, the far ones, the ones behind trumpeting, this is the gang who gets me sober and keeps me that way. Maybe you think that G-d is not a flock of geese, but it has been my experience and the honking and the mess are part of it all. I spend my days making sure I am one of them. Sometimes I am even in the lead, which may seem like a place of honor and prestige, but is actually a lot of hard work. Sometime I am the cheering squawker who makes my encouragement heard. Other times I am the one waddling around leaving an untidiness behind me. All of this just makes me part of the flock. I am especially fond of my nest mates though they are often the ones I chase and bluster at the most. I feel a sense of identity and pride when I see any goose flying high and know that because we don’t do it alone we are able to do it together.




Pet inspiration

*

FINE PRINT

I can scrawl the wall with everything I know
I can fill my books chapter and verse
With pure and honest hope
But let me begin the precision of language and watch.

My once open face becomes tight
My associations peek regularly around each corner
Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare

Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical
And God floats off untethered
Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers
Scrupulous observance never advances my sails

I must meet life with an open hand
The devil may not always be in the details
But check the fine print to be sure.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 5

Please Sir

Gratitude is a thing which collects and solidifies, it’s pink and I can walk around on it. Some days it is a broad highway and other times a winding spindling track. Ever present if I am mindful, gratitude roots out pests and pestilence while planting a garden beyond my dreams. Gratitude is like handholding; it warms and strengthens me, keeps me connected to real life and reassures me that I am not alone. Many days I find a way to make a face and pout, plundering the rich rewards of sobriety for the thin gruel of discontent, poke me with a stick on these days and remind me who I am, for I am never Oliver even if I feel a little twist.





Rest between great ideas


*

FEELING TEMPLES

I failed to appreciate the initial onslaught of feelings
I spent much time trying to capture them
Lock them away or in some other way submarine them

This only had the effect of retarding my recovery
I had to reframe my thinking
I had to start with simple calisthenics, embrace and celebrate

As my emotional health began to take shape
I started the foundations for tiny shrines
Each with its own theme

Happiness had a party going on until all hours
With grief there seemed to be a constant internment in progress
Body or no

Fear showed on IMAX film
Of the realities of life on earth
Curiosity had an endless library plus a DSL line

Making myself a willing and frequent visitor
To these contrasting places
Created in me wholeness and peace

Never again do I have to trudge
The two dimensional desert
Of my monochromatic former life

[nanners]

April 3



Unfettered


“The difference between a demand and a request is apparent to everyone.” A drunk once said this and I hold it to my heart. I can not be bullied or swindled into a corner; neither will I allow you to put a rope around my neck like a wayward calf. I obey because it works for me and if you teach me that you are untrustworthy or careless I will obey you no longer, this doesn’t make me less obedient it just takes you out of the lead. Sometimes I hold the reins and most times they are in the hands of G-d, but never shall my reins be in the hands of another, this is what I drank over and this is what I could drink over again. No one person is my salvation and I cannot allow anyone to be my demise. If you consume me like a drink, I will kill you as surely as any drug.





Hobble disrespect


*

STOP TALKING

Try to stop talking when people stop listening said my sponsor
And try not to take it personally
Why is that? I query

Most individuals can't handle much of anything real
Try as they may they are unable to listen
To anyone speaking the truth

Tell them a story and you can hold their attention all day
Sprinkle bits of honesty into the tale
And you still will keep your audience

But strafe them with bullets of the truth and they run for cover
I've seen it happen, I never knew what made them scurry
But I have seen them sprint away

It's a coping mechanism
If you try to turn their heart too quickly
They're afraid it will stop beating

Why is it you never worry about that with me?
You tell me the facts whether I want to hear them or not
I can tell you because you take step three

I really like this too! I'm so glad you posted it! Thank you!

[nanners]

I am going to an Overeater's Anonymous Retreat this weekend...the theme is about the "Promises of OA" and I'm over the top excited about it! I need this "boost" to fully connect with my program again, I have still been having a rough time with the sugar addiction. I have told myself that I will be abstinent from sugar while I am there, and I do think that being there will give me what I need to sustain that. :praying: My sponsor will also be there, so we'll get in some one to one time as well.

My roommate is a lesbian, who is partnered...and that's pretty cool too. I'm sure we'll have good things to talk about.

I believe I have internet access there so I'll try to keep up with the Planet!

[Daktari]

I am going to an Overeater's Anonymous Retreat this weekend...the theme is about the "Promises of OA" and I'm over the top excited about it! I need this "boost" to fully connect with my program again, I have still been having a rough time with the sugar addiction. I have told myself that I will be abstinent from sugar while I am there, and I do think that being there will give me what I need to sustain that. :praying: My sponsor will also be there, so we'll get in some one to one time as well.

My roommate is a lesbian, who is partnered...and that's pretty cool too. I'm sure we'll have good things to talk about.

I believe I have internet access there so I'll try to keep up with the Planet!

No amount of 'telling myself' anything has ever helped for me sadly. That's why I need this stuff, other folks who know what it's like and most importantly my HP who, when I'm surrendered, makes me a 'we'.That's how it works for me anyway.

Glad to hear you'll get time with your sponsor too.

I hope you have a wonderful time and find that re-energising and re-submitting to the programme that you're looking for.

May I venture that keeping up with the Planet will just take focus away from the healing time you're there for. Just a thought.

Have a great time :cheerleader:

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 6


Fearing Fearlessness

How many times have I given the credit to night blind fear, credit due the brave persistent child? How many times have I blamed the willing diligent pursuer when the fault was the backstabbing delay of mistrust? I resist the onset of freedom. Fear was my oldest familiar and I put from my mind that it was my jailer, captor; kidnapped me from my cradle and kept me locked from G-d’s fine intentions. Fearlessness sounds debilitating to my crippled ears, organs who hear well the disclaimers and are deaf to the claims. I am the producer of bile and addicted to dread, endorphins wear white hats and win the day once this yellow belly is put to bed.





Allow yourself distance from uncomfortable people



*

BIRDS AND BEES

Birds and Bees can get me drunk
I have to watch the amount of envy
Which pours through me as I watch their bliss

When others make a beeline to the hive
I must head to a meeting and save myself despair
If my spiritual condition is not sound

When other couples are weaving their nests
I have to be careful
Not to weave my way back to the bar

The mating dance is so sweet and seductive
I have to make sure
I don't end up doing the two step

For as much as I hate to admit it
If steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober
The rest would not have needed to be written

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 7

Two Things That Should Be One

The difference between my will and G-d’s will is that G-d actually likes me all the time, never looks to punish and would rather that I don’t settle for less then what is best for me.

The difference between G-d’s will and my will is left to my own devices I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough. I would never ask for help and would refuse if it were offered. I would take on misguidedness as a mantle and wear it to my wake.

Often my will and G-d’s will are miles apart, but they needn’t be. G-d is the president of my fan club; I just need to start attending the meetings.




Make music in your head that you can feel in your whole body

*


WHIP

I have been to the meeting where the play 'whip'
The meeting where the members are gotten in line
The tempo increases constantly in an attempt
To flick each other off into the land of shame and slips and less-than

This game is invisible to the participants
Though the stress on their bodies is surely felt
Spectators often misunderstand the meaning of the activity
And wrongly interpret it as strength training and endurance building

I think of it as a backward step
Throwing me to my initial desire for a drink
Living other peoples skewed lines
Sent me running for a bottle

The same lines
Placed around me in sobriety
Will measure me up for a box

[nanners]

Wow....I learned so much and I had the best weekend ever. It was exhausting emotionally and mentally, but oh so worth it! I have the names, numbers and e-mails of 17 people that I can call anytime for support! I also have a renewed energy to really step up my program and stay off the trigger foods like sugar. Today is Day 2 of abstinence from sugar.

I signed up to be on next years committee for the retreat too! I am so excited! There were quite a few people from my home meeting there, but so many I didn't know and got the chance to meet and got to know a little.

I am so incredibly inspired.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 8


Out on Your Front Porch


“If you want what we have,” said my sponsor, “you will have to follow somebody and lead somebody and do a few other things.”
“I have to follow somebody, that shouldn’t be too hard,” I mumble.
“In order to follow it helps if you stop looking at the ground, lift you gaze,” her retort. I raise my chin until I meet her eyes. “Better,” says she.
“I follow you?” I ask.
“Me, yes, if I have what you want, follow others if I don’t,” she says.
“Okay and lead somebody, how do I do that?” I ask.
“It’s attraction, Sweetie, be attractive, show your smile and your smarts, but most of all show that you’re sober, because that is always your best asset. And no matter what anybody tells you about the allure of bad girls, nobody can resist a good set of assets”




Don’t let the rush of the river scare you from the bank

*

WHAT IS PAST

The past cannot hold me in a loving embrace
I run too often looking for affection and recognition
In things long dead and purportedly buried

I return to the ghoulish obsession of digging up
Old hates and sorrows longing for support
And finding only the cause of the ulcers in my soul

I wallpaper the crumbling facade
Not wanting to cover it up but to hold it together
Trying to unify something which is totally scattered

When I view it with a sober eye
The past is nothing but a slideshow
Under a strobe light

The pulse triggers the impulsive belief that it was all real
When in truth it was the lie I survived
No life existed in the past

Only now is there air to breathe
The past is all vacuum
And I don't need to be sucked away

[Daktari]

Wow....I learned so much and I had the best weekend ever. It was exhausting emotionally and mentally, but oh so worth it! I have the names, numbers and e-mails of 17 people that I can call anytime for support! I also have a renewed energy to really step up my program and stay off the trigger foods like sugar. Today is Day 2 of abstinence from sugar.

I signed up to be on next years committee for the retreat too! I am so excited! There were quite a few people from my home meeting there, but so many I didn't know and got the chance to meet and got to know a little.

I am so incredibly inspired.



:cheerleader:

I was so hoping you'd come back and post about your weekend. :cheesy:

I'm stoked to hear you're all inspired again and extended your recovery network.


April 7

Two Things That Should Be One

The difference between my will and G-d’s will is that G-d actually likes me all the time, never looks to punish and would rather that I don’t settle for less then what is best for me.

The difference between G-d’s will and my will is left to my own devices I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough. I would never ask for help and would refuse if it were offered. I would take on misguidedness as a mantle and wear it to my wake.

Often my will and G-d’s will are miles apart, but they needn’t be. G-d is the president of my fan club; I just need to start attending the meetings.


<snipetty snip>

Oh boy! This piece speaks to me today. Thanks Sherrie.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 9


Up and Down: Round and Round

Like the wheel on my spinning wheel I pump up and down on the treadle and the wheel spins round and round, the roving twists in my hand and yarn is made. Really all I do is tap my foot and gently hold on, pulling occasionally. It is a small part I play in this production at least it feels small almost unnecessary, but with a clear mind I see that without me it doesn’t get done. I am essential yet still just a foot-tapper and hanger-on neither of these is prestigious yet the whole fabric depends on my mundane actions. I take great comfort knowing that all over there are foot-tappers and hangers-on keeping safe this way of life, sometimes keeping it safe just through sheer repetition. And if you ask, “Is that Unity or Recovery or Service?” All I can say is “Yes it is.”



Powder your bottom line

*


CLAW MARKS

There is a brackish River
Whose current changes directions twice a day
Its bed is well washed on every side.

It begs the question-
Which way is down hill?
There are times I struggle up hill in both directions

There are times I slip from every slope
What is up is often down
Judgment of topography requires distance

Scaling the surface takes tenacity
I plan on leaving my mark as I go
Life's residue staining my finger tips.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 10



Stumbling Under the Tenth Step

When I’ve been outside of my mind it is so hard to tell when I’ve come home again. The landmarks take on such distortion in memory that the facts seem bloated or anorexic as I turn my face from side to side. Old journals remind me of old journeys and perhaps there are accurate landmarks mentioned, but how can I know for sure that these too are not just the ravings of a mind gone mad. Real or imagined I must take the daily count and try to keep the score in favor of the actual. I don’t always know that I’ve fallen until I inventory the dirt on my face, but better that I face the dirt than live the delusion of a mole.




Notice the shape of your fixtures



*

DROWNING NAKED

Bare & Exposed
I laid myself on the alter
Of my home group

AA, my only Source
I emptied the contents of my soul
And bore the mantle of overexposure

But vultures lurked in many rooms
I was safely guided by persons of my gender
To more secluded and effective place of transmission

I thrust myself into the arms and mind of my sponsor
She escorts me to the steps with the door closed
And taught me how and when it could be prudently opened

AA is a power greater than me, so is the ocean
Precaution needs to be taken when wading in
Care must be exercised as to how much to bare.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 11



The Key You See


The key you see is letting you, accept me. Oh, how I hide from that, run from that, flee from that. I must be in control of what you think of me. I curtain off the view of me I don’t wish to share with you. Add to that the unusual choices of what I hide. I will strip down with all the lights blazing long before I would let you see me drop the ball, be confused, misunderstand. What I truly fail to realize is that in the process of trying to hide my faux pas and fumbles; what I show you is my controlling ass. Backside bare I moon you with my freak show trying to hide my humanity. Your compassion and tolerant waiting for me to calm down and open my eyes is the key I fail to see about you.





Learn the difference between area and circumference


*

RANK

I took an area level service position
And my sponsor laughed herself off her chair

What is your motivation for this? she asked
I want to move up through the service structure, my reply

Are you trying to make rank?
Problem with that? I ask

Ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecy
You will become what you desire

You will become rank
And you will stink

The triangle is inverted to help you clean up your act
Don’t get washed away in a tide of ego

I put down my swim fins
And removed my epilates

[nanners]

April 11



The Key You See


The key you see is letting you, accept me. Oh, how I hide from that, run from that, flee from that. I must be in control of what you think of me. I curtain off the view of me I don’t wish to share with you. Add to that the unusual choices of what I hide. I will strip down with all the lights blazing long before I would let you see me drop the ball, be confused, misunderstand. What I truly fail to realize is that in the process of trying to hide my faux pas and fumbles; what I show you is my controlling ass. Backside bare I moon you with my freak show trying to hide my humanity. Your compassion and tolerant waiting for me to calm down and open my eyes is the key I fail to see about you.



Wow, thank you Sherrie! This one really resonated with me. Especially about someone I am trying to let go of in my life (and actually doing pretty well with currently).

In other news, yesterday was a struggle for me with working a 10 hour day and being so tired, literally exhausted at the end of the day and I had obsessive thoughts about eating sweet things. My HP works in great way though, I have to say! I got a text from someone else in my home meeting telling me she had a good day and stayed away from sugar! We text back and forth until I felt better and was actually laughing. I had a healthy dinner and went right to bed....my 5th sugar free day completed!

Thank you for being here my friends!Today will be better!

[Daktari]

Wow, thank you Sherrie! This one really resonated with me. Especially about someone I am trying to let go of in my life (and actually doing pretty well with currently).

In other news, yesterday was a struggle for me with working a 10 hour day and being so tired, literally exhausted at the end of the day and I had obsessive thoughts about eating sweet things. My HP works in great way though, I have to say! I got a text from someone else in my home meeting telling me she had a good day and stayed away from sugar! We text back and forth until I felt better and was actually laughing. I had a healthy dinner and went right to bed....my 5th sugar free day completed!

Thank you for being here my friends!Today will be better!

I'm with you on our wonderful Sherrie words today nanners. These are the couple of sentences that do it for me :|

"What I truly fail to realize is that in the process of trying to hide my faux pas and fumbles; what I show you is my controlling ass. Backside bare I moon you with my freak show trying to hide my humanity."

Yay! :cheerleader: on your 5th day abstinent. :gimmehug:

I've been working hard on remaining surrendered in the way I need to remain surrendered to the programme. It's sure paying off. Although I'm waiting on a call from my sponsor so we can talk about the feelings that bubbled up at last night's meeting...........oh noooo feelings :bolt:

Looking forward to taking a young member up to an 'illness in recovery' meeting tonight. Having flagged up to the chair that we'd be coming along, I got roped in to share. Oh dear. It can only be better than last week's birthday drivel. :cheesy:

“A new idea cannot be grafted onto a closed mind... Open-mindedness leads us to the very insights that have eluded us during our lives.” basic text p.96

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 12

My Experiences with Tennis

I have held the racket, I have hit the ball, but I have never played with a partner. I have slammed the fuzzy orb against the wall for long years now, but I have never had a mate. There were times when I had opponents; yes I’ve had a couple of those, a collaborator though, that I have never had. I have learned to overcome opposition either through wile or guile. Slugged my way toward some inevitable outcome, I never expected you on my court. The game we play is for keeps and the muscles required I have never used, I ache from the pain of ending an atrophy imposed on me by isolation and misunderstanding. Often I don’t know how to stand, don’t know how to act; don’t know how to be the equal to your service. I play chase, running after the thing I didn’t see and only faintly felt. I have come to the place where I know, you and I are a team; you will not be leaving looking for someone better equipped or with greater experience. It is time for me to lay out in front of you my host of tendencies and inclinations. I’m in the habit of overwhelming with my strength to hide my weakness; I must expose this all to you, the strength and the weakness, and work together for the resolution. I will no longer pretend that I know what is right and wrong in this un-played game. I fear that I will lose the old game by making this change, all that is familiar put up for grabs to the uncertain outcome of paired sports. All I truly know is that with you by my side I can never lose and I will learn to do whatever it takes to be your wife.


Dream with an open mind
*

SOLIDITY

Apprehension stands in the archaeological site
Which is my life -----listening
Listening for the rumble of a cement truck to come
And help solidify the shifting and tenuous nature of my existence

A wet and sloppy solution
A solution to be raked and smoothed, covered and cured
Something to build a monument on
Or a place to park my car

The nearby grass looks lush and green
But I dare not leave apprehension alone or it spreads
I stand with it on bad days
And against it on good ones

I pray for the mixer to arrive
Or at least the gravel spreader
I need to fill this hole so it can be a life
And stop being a grave.

[nanners]

Once again, Sherrie, you did it. You touched my very inner self that I do not share easily with anyone with today's post. Thank you so much for sharing with all of us.

There is a reason why all this time since I've been registered I was not really reading/posting on the planet, and all of a sudden I started up about a month ago...in that time I have joined two 12 step programs, worked most of the steps, become a much better woman, and actually feel so much better about my life in general. I was not ready to be here when I registered, but I am now. This thread is where I feel good, and have friends who get it, get me.

To those that read this thread, thank you for being here. I feel so blessed. :gimmehug:

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 13




Neither Frog nor Fish

I was falling and my Higher Power caught me in a net called AA, all of which was a pretty neat trick, but the strangest consequence of this is now I somehow think it shouldn’t be possible for me to drown. Defying gravity 24 hours at a time doesn’t make me aquatic or even amphibious for that matter. I still have all the corollary restrictions of anyone who is me. I still need sleep and water, food and warmth just like a mere mortal. How silly I am. I dodge a bullet and suddenly I think I am waterproof.



Don’t exchange your trinkets for your tools


*


WHAMMO

I have been hopping on one foot
With a ball of hope shoved under one arm
And a ball of hysteria under the other

I wish I could tell from the outside of the ball
Which one is hope- I worry I will put down the wrong one
So I hold onto both

My life is sorely limited by the baggage
And I fear I am losing life with every hop
A lack of information is my problem

I don't adequately know the properties of either
And suspect my every interpretation
Finally I stand before my sponsor

To ask the question of my life- That's easy Honey
Hope is the one that bounces back
Is all she had to say

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 14




Who to Ask

“You ask good questions and you ask the right people,” said my sponsor.
“I ask questions because I need answers,” my reply.
“Do you know how many people need answers and never ask?” she quipped.
“I ask my friends, no stroke of genius there,” I continue.
“You ask your playmates, you ask the people you trust enough to have fun with. You don’t realize how clever that is. You know lots of folks who work hard and you could ask your questions of these, but instead you save them for those diligent ones who still know how to play and that, Sweetie Pie is proof that you are no dummy.”





You may mute your horn, but don’t soap your bow


*


CRUMPLED PETALS IN MY POCKET

I can't bring back the bloom
Cohesion, lost ripeness
Is left only to memory

I carry home the parts
Folded, petite, fragrant bedding
For my wistful desires

I put these colored remnants into a jar of salt
I make an aromatic rub
For the sweetest wounds

Transforming the parts to useful duty
Doesn't restore the flower
It doesn't pay tribute to the past, it is survival

I have a mind filled with roses but I must make hay
Today I live, today the rose is dead
Its pieces in my pocket

I don't die with the blossom
Though my head blows in the wind
The rose runs its course, I run mine.

[Daktari]

I gots me some spiritual malady all over the place today.

Uncomfortable feelings up the wazoo!

Feeling nuts!

[nanners]

I gots me some spiritual malady all over the place today.

Uncomfortable feelings up the wazoo!

Feeling nuts!



(((Daktari)))
I hope your day gets better. Maybe a call to your sponsor, or a little reading in the big book? Please be gentle with yourself.

[Daktari]

(((Daktari)))
I hope your day gets better. Maybe a call to your sponsor, or a little reading in the big book? Please be gentle with yourself.

Thanks ever so for responding nanners.

I've been phoning addicts today but it's a family day for many and no-one's free as yet. M'sponsor will be free to speak a little later this evening thankfully.

So, to make m'self feel better I'm gonna get outta these four maddening walls at home and go try write my journal and do some step writing whilst enjoying a fancy schmancy coffee in town.

Reading some recovery literature would be good too, thanks for reminding me. :thumbsup:

It's that being gentle with ourselves that's so hard to do when all we/I want to do is punish myself for being such a numpty and so selfish. :sigh:

[KCBUTCH]

I gots me some spiritual malady all over the place today.

Uncomfortable feelings up the wazoo!

Feeling nuts!



Just hold on- they will pass try a mtg or calling a newcomer
it always helps me
maybe some writing to let some of what is on your mind go

[KCBUTCH]

finally doing a 4th step on my break up I've put it off for months using sexual seeking as a pleasant distraction, but now I have to come to terms with the fact that the distraction is more harmful than the the step work
I need to face myself so I can move forward without risking anymore serenity or my recovery
crying a lot of course
pausing in between columns
this is tough
having listed everything has been hurt or threatened
so it goes
was a memorial yesterday and saw an ex
seemed to catapult the loss into a place that needs addressing
was at least able to be of service that helped
woke up feeling sick- probably emotional hangover
Help me be willing to be willing to heal so I can be of greater service to you and my fellows

[SuddenlyWestFemme]

finally doing a 4th step on my break up

Yes, that was the hardest for me. Years ago, I was told that if you do a daily 10, you won't have to do another 4. I've done quite a few 4's since being told that... because I have so many memory lapses about 10. Ugh. lol.

And my most recent 4th (on my ex) was necessary but not fun. I suggest lots of meetings while going through it. And the great news is that it really did make most of the resentments ago away. And I got to look at what I really want in a future partner which gave me a sense of hope and joy.

Good luck. And hopefully you won't have to do as many 4th steps as I've had to. And thanks for your post. It made me realize that I have to get back to my daily 10.

[KCBUTCH]

Yes, that was the hardest for me. Years ago, I was told that if you do a daily 10, you won't have to do another 4. I've done quite a few 4's since being told that... because I have so many memory lapses about 10. Ugh. lol.

And my most recent 4th (on my ex) was necessary but not fun. I suggest lots of meetings while going through it. And the great news is that it really did make most of the resentments ago away. And I got to look at what I really want in a future partner which gave me a sense of hope and joy.

Good luck. And hopefully you won't have to do as many 4th steps as I've had to. And thanks for your post. It made me realize that I have to get back to my daily 10.

OH yes I have done many of 4th's myself
needed ones to many one the relationship now gone long before it was gone
thanks for your honesty about the resentments- I need to know the truth.

but more importantly I know too if i dont begin to look at my part- I cannot make room to heal those parts to be a better me and now what I will want in the future in a partner and as a partner

:) I have increased my mtgs over the last 4 months since the relationship ended thanks for the reminder though
-KC

[nanners]

I've been thinking...when I am ready to start dating, I will make it a point to try to date someone who is in recovery and doing at least fairly well. I think knowing and following the 12 step program is such a healthy thing to do, and would always help a relationship. At least next time I start dating someone, I will be able to see the red flags much, much sooner having at least a year's recovery time or more. I am excited about the person I have become, and am becoming thru the power of the program and my own hard work. It's certainly not easy, but it is worthwhile, and life saving work.

Happy Monday my friends!

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 15


Chickens and Eggs


Who is more sober the early riser or the long-timer? How do we get here and what does it mean. It all starts with a day, which is good because this is more than we had hoped for, sometimes more than we could do. Then it moved into an ever escalating game of can you beat this, each day an improvement over what had been accomplished the day before. For years the standard bearer is the pain or relief of the very first in this string, orbs of 24, yet here stands the question, “Is the essence the last pearl you touch or the total of the strand, which makes it real?” I don’t know for sure. Sobriety is like light; is light made up of waves or is it made up of particles and the answer is invariably yes, for it is. And what you need and how you look at it seems to make the determination, scientific method or no, the watched is affected by the watcher and vice versa. The end is a day round and imperfect as any and what is strung between the beginning and the end is what you’ve made of it.




Never underestimate bitterness

*

ESCAPING THROUGH THE CEILING

Up and away is my motto
Upwardly mobile is my goal

If I can flee without leaving a track
I'm clean

No heart wrenching walk down the isle or lane
No dust on my shoes, no possibility of stumbling

Grace at all cost
Empowerment through elevation

If I must leave my human plane to attain this, so be it
Give up my natural rights, such is life

But yet, if I lose my bonds to earth
What did the leaving gain me?

I arise, to appear better
As a result, I appear not at all

[Daktari]

<<<doesn't wanna date another recovery nutter :tinfoil:

Thanks for your suggestions Kc; I did those things - reaching out to other addicts, journal writing, a long chat with the ever patient Ms.Sponse., and made a start on step 4 writings...one question completed is better than no questions completed.

Wouldn't ya know it, all that action helped :cheesy:

It became apparent through doing step three writings that action, and the discipline to act, is the key to it all. A simple notion that took so long for this complicated being to 'get it'. :rolleyes:

SuddenlyWestFemme ..memory lapses about step 10 :rofl:

I'm so grateful that folks are coming here and sharing. I sometimes feel so alone in my area as there are precisely 4 other gay folks...none of whom ID as queer and none of whom seem to have any concept at all of butch/femme dynamics...not that they need to but it just contributes to the notion that there's no-one like me in my area. A little identification with folks who really are like me makes a whole load of difference.

Thanks y'all :pendulum:

[SuddenlyWestFemme]

SuddenlyWestFemme ..memory lapses about step 10 :rofl:



I have those same lapses on 11 as well. :) I will be going along with daily meditation and then suddenly one day I wake up and realize it's been over a month since I meditated and no recollection of how that happened. Hence, I still need meetings after 20 years. :)

[Daktari]

I have those same lapses on 11 as well. :) I will be going along with daily meditation and then suddenly one day I wake up and realize it's been over a month since I meditated and no recollection of how that happened. Hence, I still need meetings after 20 years. :)

It's always good to hear that folks with much time in the programme have the same struggles as those of us in our first couple of years.

I like finding out that folks with 20 and 30yrs clean/sober still do step work. What comes after Step 12?...Step one of course :cheesy:

Complacency is a killer isn't it? If we don't keep actively working on our programme then we're buggered!

Feeling all powered up from tonight's meeting. I don't think it was any con-incidence that on this gloriously sunny evening it was a small meeting ;) No matter though, it was a wonderful small meeting.

It was fabbalus to acknowledge our lovely treasurer G's 6yr and new dood M's 30 day clean times during our clean-time countdown tonight.

It was awesome to see just how stoked young M was with himself at not only reaching 30 days but managing to get through a few really dark days of the soul in this last week without using.
I love it when ya see newcomers 'get it' :cheerleader:

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 16




Not Fur but Fin

You can’t delay the river, I’ve tried, all it does is distort. I block the flow and swamp ensues, mighty oaks waist deep in water. The current is strong and I fear being swept away, not realizing I was born to swim. Dreading the swim back for spawn I try to stay too close to my origins, never make it to open water, never to live the life I was intended for. I’ve heard it said, “Don’t push the river it flows by itself,” but I can’t stall it either.









Line up the little endearments offered you


*

FEEDING THE MONSTER

Who will feed the monster, once they’ve made her?
Her hunger burns in her like a beacon
Should I let her starve?
Should I put her on rations of old crust and tepid water?

Rebuke her as if she were her own idea
Possibly bind her hands and cover her eyes
Stand her in line with the good girls and fit her in
Turn her visage from her desire and tell her to forget?

Hold her hand and tell her that’s enough?
When I stand in the face of her yawning hunger
What do I say---It's for your own good?
Well that's what THEY said too.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 17




Like an Elf Working in an Empty Tree

The chairs in the loft are empty, but I still hear the choir sing. The bottle though it’s empty, still sometimes calls my name. Though front pocket is empty and there is rolled up empty sleeve, still the nicotine haunts my dreams. On this empty road I travel, I still long for company. The stillness is not all that’s empty, but I run to fill that spot. Chaos is like a tapeworm it eats me from inside, but in the meantime I still believe it’s filling me.







Curve around what is sharp on your tongue

*

HOW THINGS SEEM

Not everyone who pushes me down is my enemy
Not everyone who pulls me up is my friend
I have been seduced by the closeness of people
Who used me as their shield

When I have been held in a place of honor
The point man of life
I forgot that made me the replacement target
For the one who stood behind me

I have been offended as I was thrown to the ground
The hands that shoved me I saw as my rejecters
I was spared the tragedy and peril of the thing which flew by my ear
Thanks only to the grace of a thrust in the right direction

Accurate appraisal is my weakness
Seeing thing for what they are is hard
Things are rarely how they seem

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 18



In Training

Like a faithful dog that was hard to train, patience is a thing hoped for yet peevish during the breaking in. Stanch companionability is hard won, but worth the cost of acquisition. And what is the price I truly paid in the end; whatever I gave in the pursuit of patience was a cheap babysitter and kept me from far worse reformation. For what would I do in this late day and age as a tempest torn toddler, no bottle to sooth my woes and bothers. Strictly speaking this is a world ill suited to the edgy intolerant masses and only seems to fit those who can mark time and bend.




Be careful what you do with idols



*

SERVICE & SACRIFICE

The difference between life and death in my recovery
Is the equal difference between service and sacrifice
If I offer you what is in my hand, fine
If I also give you my fingertips, I am lost.

Service lightens the load in my heart
Sacrifice removes my tools for living
When I go into debt for your existence
The cheer and optimism is sucked from my awareness

My eyes go dead and soon I follow
The cingulotomy of obligation crucifies my future
And murders true hope and love
Service feeds my heart and yours

Renovating makes space
It builds the muscles for joy and contentment
Pumping and refilling
My plate with spirituality.

[LeftWriteFemme]

Kinky, Sober and Free: BDSM in Recovery

http://www.thefix.com/sites/default/files/styles/article/public/BDSM%20%281%29.jpg

http://www.thefix.com/content/kinky-sober-and-healthy-bdsm-and-recovery2016

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 19



Ground Floor


Step 10 is the place where the doors slide open and I discover I am out of the basement. I have to pay close attention to where my feet are; it is so easy to stumble here in the light of day. Oblivious limitations and universally accepted interpretations are pried from installation and put on trial. Never is it acceptable to allow my alcoholic thinking to make decisions for my sober life. The road to my door must be kept clear so I can get out to do my part and so G-d can come home to me.






Spin heads, spin tales, spin dry

*

CHAPTER & VERSE

I remember being trained and rehearsed for finding the words
Which would release my soul from bondage
The scrupulous concern for detail pointed me to heaven
And yet I drank.

Inside these rooms the path is wide
Judgment is suspended and I have the right to be wrong
The penalties for error can be great
But the privilege and risk are mine

As in all things, the extremists come
They have come to this place too
Thumpers hound and belittle
Threaten and cajole

They tell page numbers like punch lines
And narrow the field at every opportunity
I can't stay sober sitting on my old stool
I can't maintain desire by their chapter and their verse.

[Daktari]

Wow! Change is in the air. :tea:
Skeery stuff :praying:
Did ya'll find that you changed almost despite yourself? :|

[Daktari]

Wow! Change is in the air. :tea:
Skeery stuff :praying:
Did ya'll find that you changed almost despite yourself? :|

[Daktari]

..........:blush:

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 20




What I Take from Laban’s House


If I have the audacity to have a problem I must provide the instantaneous solution or be the cause of world-wide panic. Additionally it is the height of rudeness to have open-ended dilemma. It makes the gods uncomfortable don’t you know; makes them shift in their seats and wish me away. I prevent banishment by either, being problem free or solution-full and when the answers are not to their liking, I exile myself saving them the inconvenience and me the embarrassment. It is never good to implode the household deities; you never know when you might need one for historic perspective or a door stop.






Inventory your reservations

*


WHEN A SNAPPER CROSSES THE ROAD

What should I do?
I see the soggy green/gray lump creeping the macadam
Too slow to survive for long

The urge in me to aim
And end the duckling-eaters life
Is short lived but a palpable surge

My Disney style justice is dismissed
But heard from nonetheless
Shall I pull over and assist?

This turtle is as ill equipped
For this stretch of road
As I am ill equipped to aid in its conveyance

Should I reach with my fingers or toes
To something I know can extend its neck
And sever me from parts I hold dear?

The ever present missionary in me has spoken and is silenced
In fact what I can do is slow down and give wide birth
I know this creature is a danger but never more so than me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 21




Bound


The reason the sleeves of my disease wrap around and tie in the back is so that I will struggle with change. Alcoholism is my straightjacket and my goal is that ‘loose garment life’ I’ve heard so much about. The sweat I work up from railing against my confining existence causes petulance. Frothing and enervated, defeat is the landing on which I collapse, acceptance a flight of steps away. My ailment leads me to believe I have nothing to hold onto as I adjust; and though this isn’t true, the fact remains that this is still a process of letting go.






Have a parenthetical lunch with a friend

*

PINK CLOUD




When the pink cloud lands in my valley
My task is to walk
The pleasure of its presence can never outweigh
The practice this cloud affords me.
Walking in a haze of cherry blossom lightness
The future is a blur I do not fear
Forward motion seeds my inertia
I will keep on.
When the test begins
And I must proceed in the obscurity of night
The lively steps of pink-cloud days
Will cheer and empower me.
I can imbed my future with right action
And bank the confidence I feel today
Saving it for the rain swept days which come to everyone
Progress is positive even when made in bliss.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 22



Bummed

I accept change like coins slipped into a cup that sits beside me on the curb; never did it occur to me that I look in need of pity or alms from strangers, which is to say I don’t accept much these days, yet I do not fight it either. I keep my head down when I can no longer fend off the inevitable. I may not win control or compliance, might not remain strong enough to fight another day, but this too is a blessing somehow. A laying down of arms and money in my pocket makes the world a funny place to endure when I’m living in the tiny room in my head. What good news it would be if I learned to throw the windows open and let the day take me, though this time it’s G-d that needs to wear the ear muffs and lead me through the coldness of change. On my own I just walk further down the blind alleys and fold myself on this sidewalk in exhaustion. I don’t like the tea or the sympathy, but I don’t think I would mind if G-d took me in.




Alphabetize your expectations

*

HOLD CARD

My bottom pulled my hold card to the tabletop
I turned it over and found I have a bit of value
Each time I turned over my will
My value increased.

After many spins, the face cards appear
I’m the Jack, the Queen, the King
I revel in the times and practice it has taken to get here
I play my hand and take my chances

I have been privileged to pair with wonderful sober partners
Who turn themselves over and transform before my eyes
The years raise the anti
And I play close to my chest

The stakes are high
And if I turn in the wrong direction
I can be the Joker once again.

[tomboystud]

I'm a friend of Jimmy K. I have been clean for 12 years. I am so grateful I found this thread.

[Daktari]

I'm a friend of Jimmy K. I have been clean for 12 years. I am so grateful I found this thread.

Hey there tbs, I'm a friend of Jimmy K too, by way of Bill and Bob :cheesy:

Tis grand to see another one of us onboard :thumbsup:

[tomboystud]

Hey there tbs, I'm a friend of Jimmy K too, by way of Bill and Bob :cheesy:

Tis grand to see another one of us onboard :thumbsup:



Thank you.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 23


Exposition


Is there a difference between being discerning and being critical? Is it in the direction from whence I came or the destination to which I am driven? Does performance to an audience, even if it is the one in my head, create the line of demarcation or is it all one big bowl of goo? Does putting too fine a point of everything pierce my serenity and prick my skin? Is it the grating unplanned nature of life that bothers me into commentary or is it my inborn desire to dissection that pushes me? And where is there room for kindness; is it in my dissertation or could it be in my critique?



Bury ideas about nuts

*

THE MEAL

Home cooking is the key
I want to order in,
Have my life delivered to the door

The takeout menus entice me
From three courses on china
To burgers handed through sliding windows.

It all sounds good and I request all for take home
But this is not the way
I must light the flame and chop the veggies

I can’t have a life prepared by others
I can share recipes and suggestions
This is help not displacement

I can stand and cook with others
And together make a feast
I can not sit and wait to be served.

I stand at the range while the sauce simmers
And it comes clear
I am my own meal.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 24



More Better


When I take a break from my idyllic life, trading up to paradise, I balk at thoughts of returning to the simply marvelous day to day I have worked so hard to attain. Self accusation floods under the door, but I whimilate it with fact. My reluctance to turn my back on a good thing is an asset which many days keeps me sober. I greedily seize every improvement and hold on for dear life. If reflections of the past even held a glimmer for me I might worry; I turn from all but the highest good. I don’t regret the past but I shall never return to it.







Glance at the path you feel lead to

*

REALLY RAINING

Why do people ask if someone is really sober?
They’re checking for winners, I guess responded my sponsor
But what does that mean?

Well, when the clouds roll in
And the next thing you know it’s really raining
You can clearly discern the difference between that and just a shower

The commitment of water saturates the atmosphere
And rain is the undeniable certainty
That is what people are looking for
And they ask to discover if the person even comprehends the concept

What do they do if the person is really sober?
Stand next to them
And soak it all in.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 25



Coming Home to Work


I have arrived home to a beehive; everyone industrious, everyone filled with purpose, everything buzzing right along. My response to this of course is anger. I have a sting and I want to use it. I have a place it falls into yet I fear falling. The living world is now opened to me, but my destination had been death for so long that the prospect of diligence ignites steel blue fury. I divide my time between gratitude and rage. I want to accuse myself, rescue myself, then I remember everyone in this place has a buzz, a stripe and a stinger.





Hum in a foreign language

*


DESSERT

I have to be my own appetizer
I have to be the thing which entices and intrigues me
I must be the roughage, the salad full of color and variety
The entrée must be me, as well.

The things which sustain me
The meat of my life
I have to supply and swallow it down
I can be all this.

I run to the sweetness of others
But this cannot be my source of sustenance
The greater part of me
Needs to derive from me.

I can set the table
And fill it with the fullness of who I am
I am enough and others are dessert
Twinkies will never be sufficient, they can only be a treat.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 26


Imperturbable



Perfectionism is a cover, a blanket of lead; hard to move and rich with poison. What it tries to hide is my unwillingness to struggle and strive. It’s not a fear of failure, but the horror of success after a long hot pursuit. If I can stall on the intricacies of the first move there is no further movement. If I can fail before I begin there is no sweat, no stain, no stink. Catastrophe is no bother, but skinned knees are my undoing. Winning is not so important to me; my unfortunate goal is to look untroubled.





Snap a picture of your beliefs


*


TRANSITIONS

During the months of winter
The trees stand tall and leafless
Static in their appearance, frozen in direction

The insurgence of spring brings to life the truth
The buds and flowers show the draw of the their owners
The pull of life from the earth and sky.

Other trees have begun to restore the gifts so graciously given
These leafless giants open themselves
As home and sustenance to the surrounding community

Returning favors and flavors, coming to terms with wholeness
Celebrations of all I have, call for me to give back
Even during the time when we all look the same.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 27


Blinded


Alcoholism hits me like a kind of blindness. I stagger through the living room cursing anyone who changes familiar placement or published timetables. Just like every aspect of this disease, shocked sightlessness, is mine to deal with. I must pick up the white cane, procure the Seeing Eye pup, learn to read clustered braille. When my vision clears in these well worked spaces I am relieved, but I must accept that when I walk into a new room more often then not I will be blind again and must pick up my walking stick once more.



Apply a timeframe to misery


*

STREET SIGNS

Hanging out on the corner of Disillusion Boulevard and Grief Road
Then returning to that special spot on Despair Avenue
Was my daily routine.

I made the circle and never looked far afield
Widening my circuit
Allowed me to find Anticipation Place and Hopeful Terrace

I pushed my search and found roads
Whose existence I never fathomed intersected
Creating areas of intrigue

Optimism Court interfacing with Realization Way
Is the fairest of my finds
But many a fine street corner has me lurking

Catching stray sunshine and encouragement
I make my home wherever the hospitality is available
And return less often to the dark and stifling places of the past

Happiness is where you find it
Just make sure to read the signs.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 28


Perkiomenville

Being actually alive does not feel as good as I imagined the relief of being dead would feel and therefore I have anxiety and dread, or is it disappointment. I feel like a failure when I am in the process of trying and I want to throw the pieces in the air and run. Does this mean I’m weak or does it mean I am frightened? Or is there some heavenly host of other reasons why my crêpe paper soul twists and turns in the breeze of the marketplace? Some part of me was auctioned off and its removal left a psychic scar that even equanimity can not ease. I am all things wonderful and yet there is this flaw, this toe tied thread which holds me back, holds me down with painful accurate precision. I look for the knife with which to cut it all the while wondering if this will turn it into a toe tag or a price tag.





Police your self destruction
*




K-TURNS

I do not believe in a universe that makes complete sense
I often find myself trapped
Because the things I pull into no longer feel firm.

I attempt K-turns in alleys far too narrow for the maneuver
I can’t back myself through the passages I plunged into willingly
My faith doesn’t compute in reverse and I find this disconcerting

I may walk into the face of fire
But find it impossible to turn my back on the flame
Today a one-way faith is fine
As long as I am moving forward.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 29




Would You Rather a Lamp?

I am a girl filled with expectations. Like a ginger jar filled, stuffed caulker block full, though the filling is the part which is unpredictable; it could be match books, or seashells, acorns or all those pretty capsules. This makes me erratic and sometimes volatile. Are you strong enough or far too sane to stay and help me sort the contents? It’s lonely work without a witness or a spotter. I rather be alone than with you reluctantly, so please try to shuck that husk and remain. Yes, I am sometimes capricious, but I try never to be cruel. I know sometimes you convince yourself that leaving me to my own devices is the wisest of courses, but don’t be fooled; you disappear due to your weakness not strength and the worst part about the price of abandonment is that everyone has to pay it.





Design a window that looks out on your dreams


*



THE SHINY THING

The starling stands with the candy wrapper in its beak
The cellophane flexes in the breeze
Here is my life

I have the shiny thing in my possession , What do I do?
Do I give up my intended tasks to attempt dominance
Or control of the shiny thing?

Do I release this thing of intrigue and beauty
I am drawn to the shimerance and sparkle
But shutter at the price

The world is filled with shiny things
I can enjoy them
But need to leave them where they lay.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 30


Jane Street

The space between wanting to live and not wanting to hurt is the alley in which I live. This lane is not as narrow as you might think, in some places there is room for parking on one side. Since I reside here more often than not I have filled it with many of the appliances, which allow me to pretend at life. It doesn’t afford a truly clean or cheerful locale, but there are laughs, sometimes flowers in the spring. Finding my way out of this is tricky. When unlocked I find these are backdoors to commerce and though better than being sold wholesale, retail is not what I was hoping to find as I wrest myself from a confined existence. I have heard of those who drive through plate glass ignoring the structure. I think this is less workable from the back. What is left when I can’t bully or climb? I guess I will have to throw my hands up and pray.




Acknowledge a myth about yourself



*

ROLES

You don’t have to give up playing God
Because it was a bad thing to do.
You have to give it up because it doesn’t work
Said my sponsor in her most gentle voice.

In a world seemingly spinning out of control
You, brave child, stepped up to the plate and took a swing
That is heroic not demonic
But impractical nevertheless

You have to be your own full-time job
Even when it feels like there are other jobs left unfilled
You don’t have to run around finding the feet
To fill those empty shoes

Maybe those empty shoes are just bait for a bad trap
Keep on your journey and you will come to a place where the work
Is being accomplished by a surprising cast of characters
You will be free to stick to the role ahead of you.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 1


Terry Bradshaw

When someone wants to take the easy way out I condemn them for wanting ease and fail to register that they want out. I hear a whine when in fact it’s a cry. A challenge is rarely passed up by the able bodied, but must be foregone by the injured. Carried from the field is no personal victory, not a goal for sure. When I would rather watch than play I need to check for wounds not inflict them. It is not natural for me to sit in the stands, but accusation is never the way to get me on the field. Suit up when I’m whole and hide when I’m not. Absence is a fallback position for the fallen; I have to help myself to get back up.




Recognize friends as art


*

PIGS

Talking to a chrysalis about flight
Is like talking to a fetus about dry land.
Descriptions of future events
And possibility are lost in the translation.

To the uninitiated these realities sound like gibberish
And flight of fancy or foolish dogma
Yet I am drawn to talk of these things
Imagine and describe them.

I am changed by this procedure
I am transformed in the details
When I can accurately depict it
I am taking the stride into living it

I am my own pig
I have taught myself to sing
And have wasted no time at all.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 3

Van and I
(Happy cleaning windows)



When the fog clears and I still can’t see, I check my optics and wash my windows. The mundane upkeep hones my pursuit. After the weather and housekeeping concerns are managed, eye exercises are next on the agenda. I have to strengthen my equipment, stay fit or fall prey to vagaries of nearsighted limits or farsighted failings. Myopia is an ever presence danger I must guard against as well. A fixed focus is a death trap. I must learn to track a moving target while I wend onward. Nothing in life is stationary; concentration and a decent line of sight are priceless rudiments. Continual practice with the tools and tactics build my confidence and sharpen wit. Burdens are lightened when I see my goal in stark relief; I can chart my path and make my way. Sobriety means if I can see it I can believe it, so I best go get the Windex.



Lock your doors when you need to, open windows when you can


*

MY SOBER HEART

The heart I have today
Is not the heart I have had all my life
Cells age and are replaced

I slough off what I can no longer use
And rejuvenate with fresh layers
My sobriety is the same.

Past step work is revamped and approached in innovative ways
Yesterdays prayers are replaced with today’s
Today’s meditations will be dispelled by tomorrows

The function remains the same but it is constructed with brand-new work
Service I render is always for my sobriety
But I work to strengthen various quadrants

My heart is not as young as it used to be
And vigorous action remakes it new each day
I rebuild my sober heart continually because forever and today
I have the mind of an alcoholic.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 4



The Wake Up Call


I wake early and watch the lazy rain fall in slow fat random drops. I view it with silent awe, only part of my recently somnolent mind bewildered. Dawn advances toward me and I register a new concept: snow, it is snow; the sky had been, too dark to allow me to see the white, all I could comprehend was the fall. The lighter the sky becomes the more the precipitation behaves like snowfall. I muse this to my sponsor and she laughed, “Well, we all misname things in the dark, Sweetie, lighten up and give yourself a break.”




Look for the secrets you keep from yourself

*

QUEEN’S COUNTENANCE

I know the 7 P’s of preparation
I set the table for those I know
The unexpected arrive clothed in time and tradition

They seat themselves at the table with the naked
They become mute
We prattle and pose
Rarely glimpsing the goals sitting at the unset seats

What we need to become
Is far from what we are
I can not even call it other

It is within when we make room
And ether when we won’t
I can wait and try
But the juice is deep with the pulp

I get myself in line for the future
And wait for the clothes offered by my guests
I sit the emperor and rise the queen

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 5


With and Without


With my sponsor- Without my drinking buddies

With my Big Book- Without my contrived dogma

With my home group- Without my dysfunctional family

With my step work- Without my mental masturbation

With my sobriety- Without my insanity

With all this I can live Without all that




Appreciate the strength of your neck


*

THE LONG VIEW

The long view requires an enduring embrace of the past
It requires a great love of people
The race and individuals

I cannot see what we do and flee
I can own what happened, what happens and what is to come
If only so I can ratchet improvement into my own behavior

I can see and feel change, cringe if I must, but go on
The horizon is there to set the stage
It hangs long and low

It stands guard for the life there is to live
I will view it
And use it as my gauge

Keeping perspective is the key
I know it for what it is
And that makes me,----me

The short sight and the long view
My open arms hold it all
My sight brings it all into my heart.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 6


Yield Don’t Stop


If I let amazement stop my progress I will become landlocked instead of becoming free. Picture wagon wheels planted in Kansas when the destination had been California. Yes, the plains are great, but if that was not my aim it is a far cry from heaven. Arriving at any haven is tempting; when it crosses to captivating then to captivation, here is where the problem lay. Steps six and seven changed me and this is good. If I allow this to halt me this is disaster. If the wheels fall off the wagon I walk. If I grow too tired to walk I pant with my friends and we carry each other, we don’t stop.




Pickle the pretty fruit from your labors

*


BRATZLOV

If all the world is a narrow bridge,
I must broaden my mind.
If all the doors are closed to the passage of a hallway,
I must exit through the window.

Never again can I stay and shelter
In a small and confining refuge
A womb is a place to come out
It is never a place of return.

I am not to seek overexposure
But I must ever widen the gate
The brave face I show is the gift of a tight world
Owning me for far too long.

Fear is never meant to be larger than life
And the world should never collapse
Around the sweetness of a smile

Today carries us.
Tomorrow draws us.
The world is a bridge.

[tomboystud]

I wanted to stop by and check in. My life is going good today. I am headed to work and hope everyone has a great day. I am glad I can smile today, and have fun in recovery.

[Daktari]

So glad to see ya checking in tomboystud

If we can't laugh and have fun in recovery then I suspect we'd not stick around very long :winky:

I've had fun this gloriously sunny Bank Holiday Monday (it's a holiday weekend here) with a load of recovering addicts having a barbecue in MsSponsorliscious' back garden.

Also took on secretary of our Area F&E (fundraising) committee yesterday. It's my first official committee position and I'm stoked that it's alongside Ms.Sponsoliscious in the chair and the lovely lady I travel with to our Area Sub Committee each month who's taken on F&E treasurer. Tony has taken on 'brews' and catering too. There's a few more positions to be filled but we're all set to get going on raising funds for next years convention.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 7


Pinocchio as a Girl



I should be painting today instead of reframing the future, an unnecessary and ephemeral job at best. Kind of like lassoing an unborn colt, I try to put a rope around something that cannot get away. Outcome hasn’t much to do with foregone conclusion and wouldn’t I be better mixing colors and wetting brushes than cutting slices from a pie in the sky? But tomorrow seems more spacious than this crowded present and I con myself into believing this is a harmless trip to the fair. I lose my light, my thought, my sight with these thieving sojourns; leaving me to creak around because all that is left is wood.






Nothing gets in the way of something


*

MAIL

I form my query
Fold my mind
And mail it off to God
With a stamp of approval from my sponsor

The questions sent are of no great interest
But the responses are a spellbinding group
What is returned unopened
Is a wide array

The circuitous route taken by some
Is a charm of elucidation
I rub my finger over the intact seals
And marvel at the travels of the wax

I mourn over the defunct gods
And their public relations organizations
Slow is my resolve to pour over the replies
I get easily caught in lackings and shy from true contact

The equations embedded in my heart read the letters
And sing the notes; these songs are just for me
I know them like my name
I turn the envelope and see how old the postmark is

[tomboystud]

May 7

Turning turmoil into peace





“With the world in such a turmoil, I feel I have been blessed to be where I am.”

Basic Text, p. 145

––––=––––

Some days it doesn’t pay to turn on the news, we hear so many stories about violence and mayhem. When we used, many of us grew accustomed to violence. Through the fog of our addiction, we rarely got too disturbed by the state of the world. When we are clean, however, many of us find we are particularly sensitive to the world around us. As recovering people, what can we do to make it a better place?

When we find ourselves disturbed by the turmoil of our world, we can find comfort in prayer and meditation. When it seems like everything is turned upside down, our contact with our Higher Power can be our calm in the midst of any storm. When we are centered on our spiritual path, we can respond to our fears with peace. And by living peaceably ourselves, we invite a spirit of peace to enter our world. As recovering people, we can affect positive change by doing our best to practice the principles of our program.

––––=––––

Just for today: I will enhance peace in the world by living, speaking, and acting peacefully in my own life.