Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 13


Offset


I often feel out of round and unmatched to my counterparts. Awkwardly I sit unable to strike a plausible pose. I want my asymmetry to seem chic. I feel a victim of universal ugliness and gracelessly plod through my days. Luckily offset thinking, the partner of my offset soul, saves me. I see that I am uniquely useful, like a screwdriver set at right angles for use where a straight one could not reach. I am counterbalance and compensation. I may be lateral but I am also collateral. I am an embellisher, beneficial in unexpected ways and shouldn’t seek to be inline with the multitude. I am the new growth, the spur to the future.

Romance the noodles in your soup


*


GRAVITY WORKS ALL THE TIME

Limits and boundaries are a drag
I hate feeling tied to the ground
I know I could fly
If not for unseen forces

I sense myself lightening, smoothing
I drop my burdens, I pick up speed
Fourth dimension
Hell, I'm proverbial vapor trails

I should explain, when I get moving this fast
I inevitably wind myself into a position
Where my head is up my nether regions
A place it does not belong

I have slowly grown to love my limits
No restraint holds me back
In reality, I am supported, rooted as it were
I am not hydroponic, I can live in the real world

I am me
Encouraged by the wind and the rain
I am not a hothouse flower
I am truly free

I can walk where I was born to walk
I forget life has not been found outside my little world
And when it is
I am still better off being me

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 14

Specks




Spectacles are for specks; tiny things that must be watched. Commotion is nothing but a congregation of minutia with an audience. How many small things do I strain my eyes to see; then seek help to pursue further? Some of these are put on display fishing for voyeurs. Others are secreted away only to be ferreted out through magnification. Whether curiosity or contempt drives me to these pinpoints I must search my motives before I scan the plain. For truly if I am not careful I, myself will end up either speck or spectacle.

Let old wood and old women inhabit the shoreline of your mind.

*

NO MAPS

Maps have existed longer than I have
By the time of my birth there was aerial photography
Which had made pinpoint accuracy the norm.

I can be tracked by satellite on my daily commute
I can get a trip tic
And travel to the far reaches of this continent

"So what is your problem?" Asks my sponsor
There is no map for where we've been going
There are only the twelve steps, but after that-

It is all uncharted territory except of course-
For my families warnings about dragons
'Those critters stay to home mostly." She says

"You have bigger things to worry about."
So where's the map
I need to know where to go.

No Map, we go through this together
The pitfalls are similar, sex and money
There are a few others

What each of us finds on this journey is uncharted
Plus if you spend your time looking down
You will miss the view.

We prop each other up as we step off into the unknown
And reel each other back
If we start falling off the beam.

How do I know if I'm doing it right
"Are you still sober?"
Yes, but I'm unsure.

Lots of people are sober
Right up until the time they're drunk
"So true, it's all about motive."

It's difficult to chart a heart
"Do you have willingness?"
Yes, you know I do.

I have found that is the vehicle
To everywhere, So.,
Learn to enjoy the ride.

[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 heal 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.

[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

[cinderella]

As ever, your words are so inspiring and so beautiful the meaning, they well up my eyes each time I read them. You have a gift that reaches down to the core of my soul - thank you for being you, and for your words...

Your devoted fan - as ever,
Carmin

[LeftWriteFemme]

Originally Posted by cinderella

As ever, your words are so inspiring and so beautiful the meaning, they well up my eyes each time I read them. You have a gift that reaches down to the core of my soul - thank you for being you, and for your words...

Your devoted fan - as ever,
Carmin

I thank you so much for reading my posts; it means a great deal to me! This is a soul to soul activity, this recovery. I'm delighted to be doing it with such good company,

Sherrie

[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

[cinderella]

I'm not that far from Jersey if you need a hand to hold or an ear to listen - soon as the snows clear. I'm sure you've gotton your share too. *moan*

Originally Posted by LeftWriteFemme

I thank you so much for reading my posts; it means a great deal to me! This is a soul to soul activity, this recovery. I'm delighted to be doing it with such good company,

Sherrie

[RockOn]

partial quote of Sherrie's last post:

"I start my gratitude list.
Beginning with my sobriety"

As a person in recovery, the good things, for me, begin with my gratitude list.

I have been doing some reflecting on and off this month. Thinking about the friends I lost to addiction in 2010. For reasons unknown to me, I was spared back when I was still trying to control it. I am certain, Erin, did not realize she was using up her last ticket to ride that Saturday night in mid December 2010. I remember when she came in - year 2000. She was so hopeful, so energetic - jumped in with both feet. Her Mom would attend the Al-Anon meetings which met at the same time. She was 51 years old when she died in December 2010. Broke her Mom's heart. Erin had been in recovery for many years and always attended meetings even after she went back to using - thinking she could have it both ways. It did not work out for her as she expected in mid December. Erin gets no more chances. Some show us what doesn't work.

I believe "it" will always win in the end. It is patient, will wait and NEVER gives up. Its only goal is to administer pain and destroy.

I am not in morbid reflection. It is sometimes important for me to get quiet, be still ... to reflect on reality ... renews my ability to refuse to let my teasing mind seduce me.


Sending to those who are still struggling, still chasing the high, trying to control it ... and hoping they will chose to turn it around before it is too late.


Brock

[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]

Originally Posted by cinderella

I'm not that far from Jersey if you need a hand to hold or an ear to listen - soon as the snows clear. I'm sure you've gotton your share too. *moan*

That would be great! Yes, we got covered in snow over and over and I hear there is more coming this week..........plus it is freezing cold here today through tomorrow! Stay safe!

[LeftWriteFemme]

Brock, it is amazing how we got to live this live and how it slips through other people's fingers. I feel like a lottery winner most days and I pray to keep hold of my ticket! Good luck to all! I hope you are having a great weekend Brock, take care, Sherrie

Originally Posted by Brock

partial quote of Sherrie's last post:

"I start my gratitude list.
Beginning with my sobriety"

As a person in recovery, the good things, for me, begin with my gratitude list.

I have been doing some reflecting on and off this month. Thinking about the friends I lost to addiction in 2010. For reasons unknown to me, I was spared back when I was still trying to control it. I am certain, Erin, did not realize she was using up her last ticket to ride that Saturday night in mid December 2010. I remember when she came in - year 2000. She was so hopeful, so energetic - jumped in with both feet. Her Mom would attend the Al-Anon meetings which met at the same time. She was 51 years old when she died in December 2010. Broke her Mom's heart. Erin had been in recovery for many years and always attended meetings even after she went back to using - thinking she could have it both ways. It did not work out for her as she expected in mid December. Erin gets no more chances. Some show us what doesn't work.

I believe "it" will always win in the end. It is patient, will wait and NEVER gives up. Its only goal is to administer pain and destroy.

I am not in morbid reflection. It is sometimes important for me to get quiet, be still ... to reflect on reality ... renews my ability to refuse to let my teasing mind seduce me.


Sending to those who are still struggling, still chasing the high, trying to control it ... and hoping they will chose to turn it around before it is too late.


Brock

[RockOn]

Yes. Sherrie it is amazing to me too how we get to live this life. What a gift!!!

Spent a few hours with my sponsor today. We walked her dogs, then closed off her dining room so we could talk privately. With almost 30 years of sobriety, Cheryl has accumulated a lot of wisdom. She tells me she used to run dope (heroin) in her arms every day, plus drank alcoholically. I look at her, see how she is in her day to day business and cannot imagine she ever did that.

Funny thing, Cheryl's husband always wants to join in the visit when her sponsees come over to do work and she gets really upset with him. Heh Heh! I love her hubbie! He was in a recliner when I was leaving. I went over - kissed his forehead on my way out. Left her home and went to the 6:00 women's meeting tonight. Great meeting! Someone brought chocolate mint cookies ... that made it even better. *grin*

So far, I have been able to stay away from the Girl Scout chocolate mint cookies. I have to get two boxes to make it worth my while. Anything less is just enough to make me mad. And I saw those Cadbury milk chocolate eggs with the yellow and white creme inside at a drugstore the other day. I literally ran out the door. Put me in a room with 8 or 10 of those and a quart of milk ... not a pretty sight! LOL!

Hope you have a swell week!

[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.