Friends of Bill W.

[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."

[Tommi]

I celebrated my belly birthday and my sober and clean 33rd anniversary with my girl, who has 22 years sobriety, in a Sports Bar watching football on January 3rd. We were in Eugene, OR, where she spoke in front of 1,400 people at the Western Area Confernece of Youth in AA the night before.. Neither of us drink. She doesn't enjoy football, but loves me more than anything. We were staying @ the Hilton, that did not have my favorite team on TV in the room or in the lounge. It's the end of the season... She suggested we go to a place that had the game on..THAT IS TRUE LOVE..

I will watch Football today, and she knows I won't be drinking, but will be jumping up and down and yelling anyway. Growing up near Pittsburgh, the Steelers were GOD's and we celebrated by toasting them, again and again. A habit I took to heart, and enjoyed at the expense of family, friends and work. Drinking took me away from the day to day.

Today, No beer in hand cheering for my favorite team. My friends won't be getting another keg. No drunken weaving on the road home from those party days and nights.

I will watch Football today and remember the game. I will cheer for my team, be with sane friends, and drive home, not get a DUI, or kill an innocent person.

I will watch football today, and celebrate 33 years of being sober and clean and cheer for the San Diego chargers..

and my girl loves me and knows I love her more than football (even if I only talk at 1/2 time). It's good to be free of and just play



San Diego Chargers vs. NY Jets

[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.