Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 3

SPONTANEOUS WILLINGNESS


At my local coffee-mart there is a strip of cellophane tape adhered to the mid of a Plexiglas panel built into the barrier where the line forms. Only at a certain angle can this satin finish tape be seen. When I first caught a glimpse of it I recognized others had stood there and responded to the sight of this strip by prying bits of the edge with fingernails; I was drawn to do the same. I could not pull much up, but each time I stand there I work diligently for the moments it takes to make it to the head of the line and be on my way. Unseen others pull fragments while I’m away. Over time we will accomplish this task, unbidden, unknown to each other except through this common goal, spontaneous willingness to do what can be done.


Build a boat in your mind and push off.
*

MISS DIRECTED

I called and rambled at my sponsor.
After a significant time had passed,
she stopped me and asked with a tone in her voice,
“and why are you calling me?”
Startled, I replied, “for your advice!”

“Are you sure that’s why you called?
Because I can give you my advice,
but I have given advice to you before
and received only a severe case of the ‘Yeah, Buts’ in return.”

I was about to say ‘yeah, but you don’t understand’
when she cleared her throat to quiet me
and continued what she was saying.

“Seems to me you really want more than a sober ear,
you want magic.
You want me to take your crazy, dramatic thinking,
put it in a hat and pull it out formed, as all your dreams,
and then you want credit for making it happen.

But, Kitten, I have news for you,
I’m not Mr. Roark and this is not Fantasy Island.
This is sobriety and you can’t just have your way.”

This is when I realized I was on a dry drunk.
I don’t know what the first signs are,
but I do know when your sponsor asks,
“and you’re calling me, why?” the jig is up.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 4

CONTROL


I have everything in the world but control and yet it seems to be the only thing I yearn for. Past history has made it difficult for me to have faith and I have clung to scraps of control as an alternative. I have hope but I have hope in the way a disgruntled gambler has hope. The horse may cross the finish line first but it’s a long shot. This is the trouble with control. If I could ride the horse, I might be able to exert some sway in the situation, but since my jockeying would only make things worse, my inability to secure the outcome leads me to despair and here I am. I am not in the race. I will not risk betting on the horse. I have no skill accepting the capricious nature of life and work hard not to be capricious myself. This maybe the crux of my problem; I work so hard to do things right instead of having fun. I try constantly to keep things from going badly; I focus no time on creating joy in my life. I may not believe much, but I do believe God wants me happy. This could be the seed, which starts faith.


Feel free to laugh.

*

Natural Law


The boat captain can’t change the river;
navigate it possibly,
but rule it never.

Birds don’t control the wind,
only capitalize on it.
I can’t reign my sobriety,
I just get to take the ride.

My choices greatly affect the quality of this journey
but not the nature of recovery itself.
I am powerless over gravity
but am thrilled at my ability to use it to my advantage.

[DMW]

Got my 11 year coin and found a good solid meeting place. This is good.
As always, thank you for your posts LeftWriteFemme

[LeftWriteFemme]

Originally Posted by DMW

Got my 11 year coin and found a good solid meeting place. This is good.
As always, thank you for your posts LeftWriteFemme

That's great that you found a good solid meeting!!!!

Oh my! ...I cannot even begin to tell you how much I identify with all of this months posts thus far Sherrie.

It may or may not be because I finished sharing step one with my sponsor on Tuesday 1st and am feeling the benefits of surrender and acceptance of powerlessness and unmanagability.

Wooohoooo! Go you DMW

11years is an awesome achievement. As someone will inevitably say when there's a long time birthday being celebrated, keep coming back, more will be revealed

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 5

BEFORE THE END OF THE ROAD


Before the end of the road tiny stone lay on the side, freshly painted lines glimmer in this twilight trance. Walking the macadam, the crunch underfoot changes my perspective. No steering wheel or accelerator, this is ankle express all the way. Walking the road step by step, on my own, I am part of the soft and growing world progressing on a plan of separate integrity. Moist, lush wonder is missed by the motor speedway I let rule my life. Honeyed sweetness covers the vegetation swaying in the undulating airborne pulse. I am tempted to lie down and have a roll, but my role tonight is to reach the end of the road. When my goal is achieved I may choose a woodland life or an urban endeavor. Seeing the end of this path is job enough for now. Decisions anticipated prior to arrival are foolish diversions. I need to stay, not stray, with the dancers in the wind.


Execute the detractors in your mind.
*

Let the Groundhog Sing It


Mistakes and poor choices save me
from attempting to climb out onto moral high ground.
Moral ambiguity keeps me protected
from the illusion of relentless righteousness.

Lopsided living is a fate I am spared
due to my flawed execution of perfection;
all in a day’s work for a functional human.
Left by the wayside is the fantasy that I am all right.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 6

PICK ME SIX NUMBERS



Knowing all the page numbers and quotes out of the big book, but not being able to apply them, is like knowing all the winning lottery numbers with the inability to buy a ticket. Telling my story has little or nothing to do with public speaking. Recovery has so much more to do with willingness than studiousness. Popularity contests, policing meetings and service politics is a circus I have attended far too often. Empty rooms sporting great curtains do not a home make. Comprehension is no substitute for acquiescence.


Stock your mental stream so there is something to catch.

*

Uggs



This is a big hurdle until it becomes a little step.
I will struggle with it as long as it takes
for me to see it as something I can conquer
a bit at a time, then, often as if by magic,
it will melt into curbside snow
and I can slosh through it in my boots.

I am vanquishing obstacles,
which seemed insurmountable mere months ago.
I am not so much stronger than I was,
but I have stopped feeding the weakness in my mind
and this has made all the difference.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 7

DETAIL DAYS



Detail days seem like lost, soulless days. I sort the piles of endless junk mail; catch up on bills, letters, laundry. I don’t leave the house, but in some way I feel like I’m not in my home. It’s like a day of pulling out all the needles, splinters and thorns that accumulate under my skin from rough weeks and road rash. I steel myself to the pain of relief and rescue. Cleared counters, emptied baskets, finished worry lists leave me with that newly moved in feel. Piles overwhelm me, but sometimes, details define me.


Can-can in your head.

*
Thief in the Night


The moon ran off the night you left.
Instead of west it headed south with you,
but I doubt it will stay.

You are learning to play a new part,
another ill-suited role
which I don’t believe you will carry off
with much aplomb,
Bad actors have no leg to stand on for critique

You may have found yourself
a kinder critic or a more likened mind.
What you have taken I can’t expect to return,
but what I have gained I will never give up.

I don’t think you ever intended me any harm,
but protection is something you never provided;
something which I was sorely in need of.

I was fortunate to return to the house of my father
for that is the shelter in which I can breathe.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 8

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 your 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 not as the dragon, the serpent, the monster but as the peacock you have always been, preening and screeching as ever.


Put your foot down and dance with the other.
*


Come What May



Inevitable things are very much like inedible things;
you can’t quite swallow them yet they are hard to throw up.
It can’t seem to get here quick enough to comfort my fear
nor will it pass with any speed once it has arrived.

I am like a boa with a hedgehog as my lunch,
the shredding is rightfully dreaded and in no way preventable.
Not everything that wings my way is anxiety driven,
but I have to admit that some things are.

I cannot spend my days wishing the storm clouds away
so I will put on my slicker and hunker down for the drenching.