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June 21
FABULOUS “I don’t care what else is on the inventory. You still have to take responsibility for fabulous,” said my sponsor with a determined look on her face. “But you don’t understand. The other things on the list make it impossible for me to be fabulous. You just can’t see how incapable I truly am,” I say as I collapse into a pathetic heap in the overstuffed chair. “What you don’t comprehend is that fabulous is not affected by your other little grumbling. You can’t tarnish fabulous; it doesn’t wear away with burden or neglect. This is why no matter how far you bury it, or misname it, or even flatly deny it, fabulous shines like a beacon and you end up with every Todd, Nick and Martha on your doorstep expecting you to be who you are and let them warm in the glow. So, my cherub, you can fight it or live with it, but fabulous is here to stay.” And this ladies and gentlemen is how my sponsor wins all the arguments. Pour a rainbow into your dreams. * Do Not Enter Putting all the mess securely behind that door is no protection. If the keys are changed will I be able to open it? If the locks retumbled will I crack the combination? Like a demon sealed within a womb emergence is inevitable either upon this mortal plain or cellularly encoded and reborn at a later date. Prison is what holds captive the innocent, evil is always at liberty. Walling off my parts and pieces severs limbs and destroys thinking. Loads of cheesecloth is what I need; filter and refilter, catching all debris. Putting the toxic things to better use and making myself free. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 22
INVENTORY “When you say ‘self’ who ever do you mean?” asked my sponsor. “Do you mean the lovely velvet child or the facade you built to show others?” “Well, I wish I could answer you, I do,” my reply. “I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety. I love that you made it. When you talk about ridding yourself of ‘self’ I doubt you mean this edifice. Do you speak of some creature in the past? Do you know of whom you speak? Are you parroting then assuming this thing exists solely for you to now dispose of it?” “I thought ‘self’ was self-evident,” I feebly interject. “I want names and locations. If you only suspect some of these entities please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions. I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals. I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping. I see by the bright look on your face I have made myself clear,” she said with conviction. “So, this is what you meant by self inventory,” I say and sigh. Draw a maze of exit from a dilemma. * The Tide in Texas I cannot tell you of my pain, how the liars took me off my land, how my heart lay shattered all around, how I’m so foolish and left in town. I cannot show you the big red ball, which to me is a shame or how it bobs and sways or how the tail of it hangs out of reach and taunts me all the day. But growing up to face the facts and finding my strong legs has put me to another tact and sucks the mud away. Sharing my disappointment and my grief is like adding ballast to the boats. It lifts us all instead of sinking me. Not much of a price to pay. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 23
TOO FAR, TOO FAST Balloons filled with hydrogen race the atmosphere and fly away. The effect is stunning, so much lift for just pennies. The easy way has no line, no waiting; fast dirty service is available. Risk assessment is counter-balanced with dramatic outcome, low initial cost and instant gratification. How can I not want to rise above the crowd? How can I not want it now? Hydrogen is quick and plentiful, volatile yes, but why should this bother me? I have a Higher Power to protect me. It’s not as if I were playing with fire. I am only tempting it. Tell the tale of your life from the perspective of your thumb * For Want of Frith I feel like I am standing on a trap door, every flex in my footing triggers insecurity. With my arms spread wide, I think the wiser move might be to hold them to my sides. For if the little square did give way my arms might be sheared off with no time served for the tears I’ve cried or the blood now shed sprinkled on the earth. Step from this I tell myself and do not make delay for all the ground is not a trap nor all the world a stage. But is it not the trade in pain that sticks me to this spot and keeps me here for all my life just waiting for the drop. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 24
WATER BABIES Timeless babies bobble in their underwater positions. Voiceless cherubs bounce and wink the river of their wisdom streams to my feeble mind. The noise of silence wrinkles and tinkles as the waves crash soundlessly above. My head fills; I must surface but beg not to lose my connection when I break the tension of top-side sobriety; I turn these angels to screened-off faithfuls. I owe all I have to these aquatic infants. Every hope, all my fear is held to test in the face of swimming heroines and their embryonic grave. Read a poem to a plant. * Living as a Megaphone He whispers in my ear, I part my lips and let it all run out. Vacant tube of a thing, his words pour through me nothing to stem the flow, He hides behind me, the bully that he is. I stand with rings painted bright concentric, bold. I am nothing; I know it and don’t need him to tell me, My inactions speak louder than his words. He is not the one who bore right through my core; he is just the little worm who is living there secure. I will have to purge him out to be his megaphone no more. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 25
ALONE IN A NEW WAY I am restored. I have my sanity like a spring coat. I am not sure I need it but it’s nice to have nevertheless. I prayed for this state of reason believing it would give me entry to a world where I was a late arrival. Much to my chagrin I have found myself obscenely early to a party I am no longer sure will ever take place. I stand in the entrance hall and practice new dance steps. I search the space for prospective partners but rarely see anyone who is swaying to the same beat. I am grateful for my sanity even if I have to enjoy it alone. Write a sassy letter and let it dance. * I am Not an Island Upon finding myself alive I decided to throw my life back into the sea. I was not living on this dry and sandy shore. The baking sun does nothing to improve me. I was belched forth onto the beach, but never belonged there. I tried to see myself as evolving, tried desperately to sprout some legs. Sucked air through my gills and attempted to sing. I am not ready for this today. Perhaps this is my future, the way the current will carry me that I cannot tell. I do know I need the water on my scales and pressure in my lungs right now. I do not know what tomorrow brings Or what I am capable of just that I will not fault myself for not having been born a dove. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 26
ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE Just because the crows fly away when I arrive doesn’t mean they are afraid, but they might be. The obvious answers are usually the correct ones; I must leave room for the unlikely answers, too. Sometimes a spade is a shovel and a gofer is occasionally a retriever. The world is a wonderful and fearful place where possibilities are endless if I am willing to allow the light to strike these sheltered doubts. Any day, anywhere, an alcoholic can stay drunk or get sober. Practice your game face so you don’t have to play a game. * Chock Full of Nuts I am not a coffee maker. I come from a long line of non-coffee drinkers and I don’t drink it myself. I made the coffee for my home group once and was asked not to do it again. This is when I realized my service talents must lay elsewhere, and they do. I am a good sponsor for those who want what I have or at least want to attempt what I am trying to get toward. I am a good representative. I can carry the wishes of my group to the district. I am learning to share my story and carry the message and hope to do it well. So, my question to you is to what service do you most naturally bend? You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 27
RECLAMATION ARTIST I stand over the refuse can and peer in; I drive slowly past the piles of curbside discards. I have so much trouble accepting there is no reclaiming most of this ever-growing mass. There must be an alternate plan but I can’t see it yet. I surround myself with hopeful stacks and wishful trinkets. I want to make a new world from the old, save past relationships and make them somehow fresh. I don’t want to drown. I fear I can’t think fast enough to keep the wave from breaking over us all. I will maintain an open mind and be grateful my life was retrieved from the dustbin. I’ll steal peeks at what has been put out for lost. I was once lost, too. Read your favorite book one page a day. * When I rise up and when I lay down In order to be happy with you I have to learn to be happy without you. I gasp at the pain of it I desperately wish that the above statement were not true, but alas, you are gone in a way that I can never reclaim you and to hold on to what of you is still tentatively available I must release my frightened grasp. A wisp of smoke is not the bonfire of our past, but it is what remains and I breathe it in as best I can. Immediately I realize I am holding on again. I breathe you out, let you go. I want to run screaming throwing you from my bonds, yet another of my attempts at control. So, now it’s time to pray. Not a prayer to get my way, not a prayer to make you stay, not a prayer to make you gone, just a prayer to live on my own. God help me please to live my life, Please guide me away from strife. I am lost and cannot find my way, Father, hold me till the light of day. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 28
ONIONS “I heard people in meetings sharing about peeling onions. They said they peel layer after layer until it’s all gone! What the hell is that all about?" I demanded in the general direction of my sponsor. “Zealotry, it’s about zealotry. I peel my onions too. I have many layers of dried up, paper-thin, rhetoric that I use to protect myself. I have to slit this papery husk and eject myself from the illusion to get at the living and vital usefulness underneath.” “Then what?” “Then I try to let God decide where is the best place to add my flavor. Stew is good but salad is a treat. I can go anywhere once the waste is stripped away.” “What about the issues you haven’t worked out yet?" I bait my sponsor. “Well, those are other onions,” is all she would say. Allow a child to make you laugh. * Halfway Home Too far to turn back to the origin, not quite close enough to my destination; I am halfway home. I sometimes forget where I have come from, forget too where I’m bound. I gently remind myself I’m making progress no matter what I know. I am not where I started, not where I am going, but I am not without. There is plenty to do and much to look forward to. I lift my feet one at a time, left then right. I try to keep the steps equally spaced, to prevent past curves and circles. Lost is not as bad as it sounds though I do dream of clarity, stone -free shoes and a home cooked meal when I arrive. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 29
HEAT EXCHANGE I stand in the shower and let the water run. The water carries away my temperature in exchange for its own. I leave the enclosure restored. Mentally, a meeting does this for me. I change hot topics for more moderate positions, cold indifference for warm regard. Stepping into a group of my fellows carts off my excess ego and flushes my pride. Isolation is taken and camaraderie left in its place. I am always changed by standing amid the rush of sober minds and faithful service. Balance comes from proximity and willingness. Everything is reduced to letting myself get wet. Measure your growth on a doorpost. * Exercising Futility Asking the confused for explanation is like asking a blind man the color of the sea. It isn’t that he couldn’t tell you, but how could you be sure? To exercise futility is more than just a game or the words to a song your mother sings when lost or far away. To take the fish out of water and train it on a bike is meaner than I need to be, but isn’t it my right? Just to do things because they can be done or try them because they can’t is more the worse for everyday a tragedy in pants. Puzzle out the little things and practice when you can, for putting on the frazzled mind is cruel to the poor sweet-hearted sot. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
June 30
SMOG When I burn out, the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area. I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full; I empty out and my light grows dim. I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep. If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it and the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood. I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze. Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task if I make proper use of resources. When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted and separated from my source, then the source I am to others is extinguished. I can only light the darkness where I am; I can’t illuminate someone else’s path. Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor due to a lapse in my spiritual condition. Place the period then write to it. * From Mind to Pen to Paper What a relief to have exteriorized all the swirl of thought, which normally swarms my mind, waiting to take the stage and run through their numbers. Then like deciphering a code I was able to cross out all the irrelevant and redundant information, leaving me with a clear answer. Once there standing on its own; it was obvious and easily explained how two plus three is five. I just love anything that can be explained all on one hand and there it was tidy and neatly fitted in the nest of my palm, easy to grasp hold of with my fingers or my mind. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 1
THE POODLE Those pointed toes, slender legs carry her across my outstretched mid. What a blessing to be sober long enough to have never done any unseemly or frightful thing which might have caused apprehension in this firefly of a dog. I read until she lays her neck over my mouth for her kisses and ear rubs. She is the center of the universe and I needn’t compete. I am content to serve as resting place and nursemaid. I no longer look to be everyone’s pet. I can pamper and indulge this little one. She has the whole stage to herself. I can be her faithful audience having given up my farce. Carry a picture of you in your wallet. * Trouble with Geometry You are not allowed to get into trouble on purpose, that’s the rule and if you do you will get no sympathy that’s the corollary. Life is too hard to go looking for trouble. Running toward danger, whining about self-inflicted pain. The unspoken law of risk taking is that failure is dealt with in silence. Writhing on the ground after sticking your head in a hornet’s nest, leaves me and the world I know to be speechless in your presence. I know you desire consolation from me. All I know to say is that your actions are incongruent with your life. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 2
CURRENCY OF FEAR Fear pays the way for my disease to enter. Once inside fear seats itself front and center. Fear is the currency that allows entry to the far reaches. The coinage is ancient and steeped in tradition. There is no time or place that hasn’t been moneyed with fear and its derivatives. I can’t hide from it so my job must be to educate fear. Fear is real and has a place as protector and warning. But fear expands with ignorance and devalues the purpose of caution. Fear cannot buy safety, though I can use it to pay the toll across the bridge to balance. Speckle your tongue with new words. * Origins At the root of it all is darkness. The place from which I grow, the structure that holds me fiercely upright, is pressed on all sides by dirt. When I get right down to it the ethereal leaves and twigs, even the branches, do not exist, except for my foundation in the composted death and recycled life; the ground. For is it God who rains down from the heavens light and water or is God truly living at the center of the earth, warming my toes and securing me to what is real. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 3
LIBERTY HOPE? If you had to choose, would it be liberty or hope? Liberty is highly recommended, but without hope, how would you know you were at liberty? Transversely if you have no liberty, how could you have hope? Removal of liberty removes the possibility of hope. So, why ask for a choice to be made? Well, that’s the joy of liberty. I am free to ask anything and you are free to imagine anything and hope for more. Plan a diet for your fears. * Tyler’s Truth The snow is dying, pouring itself into the creeks and riverbeds. sacrificing its crystalline structure and community for the ubiquitous oneness of liquid. drawn by the gravitational lure of the ocean. Unity conquers the frozen individuated whole. pulled from coast to coast the sun tempts the water’s life, the sea gives up her soul to the sky to be reborn as snow once more. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 4
RENTING JOY I cannot buy happiness. No matter how much money I spend, how hard I work, I can never pay bliss off on lay away. The angles of escape for glee are phenomenal. I see runaway emotions and must concede ownership. When opportunities arise for satisfaction I pay the fare and take the trip. The boat isn’t mine to keep but the tour is forever in my heart. I can’t take it home to bury it in the yard. Like a wild thing I can leave joy where I find it. I never need to cage or bind it. I need to enjoy each measure while the music plays. I remunerate for time in proximity; delight arrives and stays as long as it likes. I linger at the table and enjoy my dessert. Leasing elation is an occasion of celebration. Living moment to moment has given me this chance. So, I take it. Copy your favorite shape. * What is at the Eye of the Storm? Serenity is the alignment of three knowledges 1. Knowing that I am not without skill, talent, gifts. 2.Knowing that I am not without community, connection, comfort. 3.Knowing that I am not without God, whether or not I believe God is able to intervene. When I am in full or even partial possession of these three I am safe from storm, or no, drought, or no, fiery hairy pestilence. Without this knowledge everything is storm, drought and pestilence, no matter what anyone else says or all evidence to the contrary. I will make my own mess when bereft. I will pay a large price for ignoring the facts and the lion’s share of this loss is loss of my serenity You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 5
UTILITY OF EMOTION I plug into the utility of my emotions. These utilities aid my life as all utilities do. The duel prong of anger serves to light me up and gives me strength to set good boundaries. The four-line clip cord of pain allows me to keep in touch with my Higher Power, my friends, and my fellows. I have nothing to share if I can’t stay real about my pain. Fear is hard to contain and is carefully piped. Explosions of fear can start so easily it’s a good thing its foul odor can be smelled in the air. The coaxial cable of joy screws neatly into the back of my mind and gives me endless delight, color and sound; these are the privileges of sobriety. Emotions are plainly utilitarian but they help me survive and make living into a life. Touch all the letters in your name. * The Biggest Chicken I love to be mystical, but the only dragon in my life is when I let things drag on and on. Procrastination is the winged beast in my world and when she is slain the sun comes out and I can count my blessings and plan for my possibilities. The deep ditch left by depression is where the lizard lays; siphoning my time and sucking clean the bones of my wasted talents. I have lunged and poked, stabbed her with my steel and blown holes in her with my revolver, but not until I sever the tendon with which she holds me in her grasp do I have any real chance to be rid of her claws. Once free of her I must be forever vigilant lest her smothering song lure me back to that evil nest where I feel as helpless as her egg. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 6
OPTICAL ILLUSION From the right angle a hatpin can appear taller than the Empire State Building. I can skew my perspective to such an extreme or let my disease do it for me. I can believe myself to be other than I am: the sweetest, kindest------smartest, quickest------smallest, slowest-------lowest, meanest. I can see myself as all this and more as long as I squint with one eye and look at only half of any issue. I can play the parts and act as if these things are true. I can even get others to play along. I can make fantasy fact if I lower the floor. I can die in the basement, many do. I can turn my face from science and be the center of all that spins..…OR….. I can climb the stairs to ground level. I can turn my mind to facts and fractions. Leave my better-than, less-than universe and see the height of everything and stand tall with both my eyes open. Put a surprise in your pocket. * Keeping My Seat I can sit through this. I can do it, even when I don’t remember that I want to. I will get through this no matter how it tweaks me and I squirm in my seat. In spite of the unfairness of it all, I can do what is right, because that is what is best for me. Acting out or giving up are options that I have. I like me too much to choose so poorly. When this is all settled I will still have me no matter what else I gain or lose. If I don’t like me anymore I have lost everything, if I can hold my head up, proud of my behavior this is the most valuable gain. Love is only love if I am still here to feel it, so I will sit still. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 7
COLD AND FLU SEASON The spiritual cold and flu season is upon me. I am awash in reaction and confusion. I have been overexposed to the dry thinking and barking orders of the cough so associated with this disability. My eyes swell and blur with my refusal to accept reality. The tickle of discomfort from inhaling disagreeable ideas is small in comparison with the nausea I suffer when I swallow every line of nonsense put forth from my dizzy and congested mind. There is no pill to dissuade my symptoms; I must raise the heat on this inertiac little bug. Parasites breed in the stagnant water of my paralysis. If I move in my sobriety, sweat a little and flush my system, I should be able to shake this insidious germ. Then I can reach my hand out to the people who caught the spiritual flu from me. Write pretty words on pretty paper. * Tooth Fairies and Super Heroes I never know who the tooth fairy is going to be. Who might be the one person who will know CPR in my hour of need. Which unlikely friend will whisper to me the secret code to my mental lock. I have been caught off guard by the power of the most unlikely wallflowers. It is important for me not to prejudge, but even more important to leave space for surprise and the delightful aptitude of those around me For that matter from strangers on the street. it is good for me to remember there is change in my pocket and a Resuscitation Certificate in my wallet. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 8
PASTRY Like French pastry, sobriety gets richer with each layer. As I investigate these layers I approach the buttery center. The fat seeps through the years, makes boundaries crisp and intimacy velvety. Ingredients, which ordinarily wouldn’t mix, somehow blend and counterpoint one another in a flaky shell. Fruit and nuts improve every bite. Though there are times which are a bit crumbly, most of the structure is strong and the invention skillful. Pastry and sobriety are compositions of strength and brilliance, which are meant to be taken internally. Juggle solutions. * Night Clothes and Bed Clothes Is there any indulgence quite like that of clean sleepwear warm from the laundry? Pulling on jammies over squeaky clean skin and the little shutter that goes with tired hedonism is a pleasure without formed words, left for grateful sounds and little moans. Hard work creates more than stability, more than cash flow, more than mere exhaustion, hard work changes my mind about delight. It allows me to see it in the most obvious, most subtle of places. My bed has become haven, hospital, refuge and I am tucked up in my nest, safely out of my mind. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
July 9
SHIMMER The water ruffles over metallic sheen, lap after lap screen the view, and still the gilt reflection shines in my eyes. Hypnotic, the undulance pulls me near. I stand on the edge, gaze, then gawk; I follow the underwater movements and iridescent tremolo. I forget place and time. I lose sight of the facts. Gold isn’t the only thing that shimmers. Sometimes that glint is just a fish. Life is full of fins and fantasy. My sponsor suggests I stop looking for my life in a wishing well. Think of all beans as magical in some way. * Special Is it the wiring between my ears, the size of the pump in my chest? The difference which can be seen when you look from me to the neighbors? I know that you feel me to be special. I feel me to be special, too, just like you. Defining that thing, that combination which unlocks the mundane is more than just an attempt to point a finger, it’s a search for that little light. Close and closer we pull together and that is special but now I will whisper it, tell you the secret truth is my ability to play. Come play with me! You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault |
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