|
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 |
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. |
Kinky, Sober and Free: BDSM in Recovery
http://www.thefix.com/sites/default/...%20%281%29.jpg http://www.thefix.com/content/kinky-...d-recovery2016 |
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. |
Wow! Change is in the air. :tea:
Skeery stuff :praying: Did ya'll find that you changed almost despite yourself? :| |
Wow! Change is in the air. :tea:
Skeery stuff :praying: Did ya'll find that you changed almost despite yourself? :| |
..........:blush:
|
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. |
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. |
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. |
I'm a friend of Jimmy K. I have been clean for 12 years. I am so grateful I found this thread.
|
Quote:
Tis grand to see another one of us onboard :thumbsup: |
Quote:
|
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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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 |
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. |
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. |
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.
|
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. |
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 * 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 |
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. |
Quote:
|
May 8
A Good Ship Recently my life has taken on a surreal quality. I stand in front of myself as if I were a business to be run or a project to be undertaken. The intensity, uncertainty and drama seem to be on the wane. There are choices to be made and outcomes to be determined, but this is all work and numbers, nothing at risk below the skin. My heart is secure, true love its protector, faith its inborn light. I am docked in safety harbor; the waves may rock me, but my anchor holds me fast. Follow your lead * ALL- BETTER NOW Mother kissed the booboo And I wait for the admonition to take effect Waiting, I count the problems Like telephone poles on a long journey What will it be like The world all- better? The anticipation nearly breaks me for awhile Until waiting turns to disbelief. A chill fills the space And all- better becomes the cry My sponsor calls for moderation And lowering my expectation The child’s ears ring with the promise to be fulfilled She cannot give herself over to a world Where band -aids are not a cure-all But only a cover for the slow work of internal healing, scars and all. Sheer survival is not sufficient for the screaming toddler Heartbreak from injustice calls for more than endurance But alas, a kiss is all we have. |
May 8
Teachable “We have learned that it is okay to not know all the answers, for then we are teachable and can learn to live our new life successfully.” Basic Text, p. 96 ––––=–––– In a way, addiction is a great teacher. And if addiction teaches us nothing else, it will teach us humility. We hear it said that it took our very best thinking to get to NA. Now that we’re here, we’re here to learn. The NA Fellowship is a wonderful learning environment for the recovering addict. We aren’t made to feel stupid at meetings. Instead, we find others who’ve been exactly where we’ve been and who’ve found a way out. All we have to do is admit that we don’t have all the answers, then listen as others share what’s worked for them. As recovering addicts and as human beings, we have much to learn. Other addicts—and other humans—have much to teach us about what works and what doesn’t. As long as we remain teachable, we can take advantage of the experience of others. ––––=–––– Just for today: I will admit that I don’t have all the answers. I will look and listen to the experience of others for the answers I need. |
Hey dood you didn't give the source of your post...again!
You do have permission from the copyright holder to post this material I assume? If not would you like the correct email address so that you might ask to do so legally? |
May 9
The Little Black Dress The holes in my pockets cause me to feel naked. Though it is an inside pocket and no one can see through I feel exposed, my thinking changed and for that matter chained, one link looped through the next. I start with a hole in my pocket so I know I can’t stay in this dress all day. I know I will need the storage later as time wears on but I can’t change now and I don’t want to waste time putting on my tights. My legs are cold. I fly from room to room. I gather my keys, but forget my phone. I am bare legged and unreachable, overexposed due to a hole in my pocket. Keep in mind that love doesn’t conform to opinion, even well meaning opinion * SLAYING OLD DRAGONS Your roar is Doppler-low And I can feel my steps move the earth As I go forward. Former dominator Scary from every angle I come for you today The scales are falling, I don’t rip them but they fall I can breathe at the heights of you lair I am not shrinking The booming voice you had is gone The power spilling away from you I don’t fly from you Gone is the tremble you once instilled The curtain has parted And you are revealed |
Quote:
|
Quote:
|
May 9
Write about it! "We sit down with a notebook, ask for guidance, pick up our pen, and start writing." Basic Text, p. 30 ––––=–––– When we're confused or in pain, our sponsor sometimes tells us to "write about it." Though we may groan as we drag out the notebook, we know that it will help. By laying it all out on paper, we give ourselves the chance to sort through what's bothering us. We know we can get to the bottom of our confusion and find out what�s really causing our pain when we put the pen to the paper. Writing can be rewarding, especially when working through the steps. Many members maintain a daily journal. Simply thinking about the steps, pondering their meaning, and analyzing their effect is not sufficient for most of us. There's something about the physical action of writing that helps to fix the principles of recovery in our minds and hearts. The rewards we find through the simple action of writing are many. Clarity of thought, keys to locked places inside of us, and the voice of conscience are but a few. Writing helps us be more honest with ourselves. We sit down, quiet our thoughts, and listen to our hearts. What we hear in the stillness are the truths that we put down on paper. ––––=–––– Just for today: One of the ways I can search for truth in recovery is to write. I will write about my recovery today. Copyright © 1991-2013 by Narcotics Anonymous World Services, Inc. All Rights Reserved |
May 10
More Than a Fedora I have no explanations only expletives, I wish I had something to say that you wished to hear, but that is not current events; foul humored broadcasts are what fill the air this day. Bad temper is tempting, but I can no longer be satisfied in this way nor is this a performance that you care to witness. I will play FCC to my ruminations curtailing this colorful darkness for my benefit and the clearing of the air. I have never shied from dramatic vocabulary and I do not now, but throwing out words is waste and I am learning to conserve. I don’t have to leak my power I can cover my head and close my mouth. Know what you are holding on to * URBAN LANDSCAPE I am taking this giraffe to the penthouse, Do you suggest the elevator or the stairs? Why do you chose these complicated tasks To fill your days asked my sponsor? You think this is beyond my abilities? I didn’t say that, I do believe either you or the giraffe Are likely to get bent out of shape But that is the most obvious of observations What if I told you being disproportionate Is both of our natural states, I asked? I know that too, my darling little lamb. You may be a contrast to the multitude But why make it harder? Why not a ranch with a cathedral ceiling Bay doors even? You are taking out the spirit of adventure, I say Baby, you may have confused frustration With excitement, says my sponsor Yes, but you have forgotten the view. |
May 10
Becoming entirely ready “We... get a good look at what these defects are doing to our lives. We begin to long for freedom from these defects.” Basic Text, p. 34 ––––=–––– Becoming entirely ready to have our defects of character removed can be a long process, often taking place over the course of a lifetime. Our state of readiness grows in direct proportion to our awareness of these defects and the destruction they cause. We may have trouble seeing the devastation our defects are inflicting on our lives and the lives of those around us. If this is the case, we would do well to ask our Higher Power to reveal those flaws which stand in the way of our progress. As we let go of our shortcomings and find their influence waning, we’ll notice that a loving God replaces those defects with quality attributes. Where we were fearful, we find courage. Where we were selfish, we find generosity. Our delusions about ourselves will disappear to be replaced by self-honesty and self-acceptance. Yes, becoming entirely ready means we will change. Each new level of readiness brings new gifts. Our basic nature changes, and we soon find our readiness is no longer sparked only by pain but by a desire to grow spiritually. ––––=–––– Just for today: I will increase my state of readiness by becoming more aware of my shortcomings. Copyright © 1991-2013 by Narcotics Anonymous World Services, Inc. All Rights Reserved |
| All times are GMT -6. The time now is 05:03 AM. |
ButchFemmePlanet.com
All information copyright of BFP 2018