Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 3



Today’s Math


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



Put misconception up for sale


*

HOW LIKE THE MOON

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

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

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

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

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

The choices are always mine
The way seldom clear.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 4




What is “Offender” Number 2?

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




Poetry in motion is like a marching band with words



*

THE FORGOTTEN

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

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

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

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

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

[Tommi]

Hellooooo out there.

Anyone interested in having a meeting at the Planet's Reunion. ....Helloooooo

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 5


More Than Less



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



Control is an illusion I perpetrate on myself

*

THE THRONG

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 6



Two Powers



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




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




*

THE SEAMLESS DOOR

Tongue and groove fit tight.
The pickled boards do not belie the passage.
Hinges buried deep
Secreted inside the place with no words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 7

From Pen to Progress



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





Hand in hand is the best way to get anywhere



*

CONSERVATION OF LOVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tommi]

Well today is the day. tailgating parties around the country...When The Saints Come Rolling IN,,,,,DIANOPolis Lord I want to see in that Number, When Dreee Bees # 9 will shine..:note:.

Okay, not a good song, but an alcohlol free toast to the team I am rooting for because Pittsburgh and The Chargers are noi in it.

The olden golden days threre would have been beer kegs on the patio and drinking from last weekend to post bowl winning HIGH..or depressed Low..
So today, it is watching my buds, do the suds, and me getting hot on the best Salsa in So Cal.

So, here's to it, Let's Do it.Go New Orleeeeeans SAINTS...
_________

____________________________

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I'll be back after football either smiling, of funky dunky wanting