Friends of Bill W.

[PearlsNLace]

Today I re learned that I have a hotel in my head for my resentments. Some resentments come and go- they check in for an hour or 2 for some nasty business and leave the dirty laundry for me to clean up.

Some, Ive kept like cherished guests and have redecorated their rooms with mongrammed towels and fluffly bathrobes.


These resentments find their way to my hotel through expectations and assumptions.

My check out key is a broom of acceptance of life on lifes terms. And the vaccume is service.

My occupancy has gotten a little full while I wasnt paying attention- and I couldnt figure out why Im snarky and panicky when things are going really quite well. Its check out time, Inventory list is in progress. Sponsor has been notified. It would appear I DONT need a couple of beers after work to be normal, no matter what the full hotel is telling me. Its not that Im overwhelmed, my hotel is overbooked.

Check out time in NOW.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 4

Give Me a Goose Any Day

The geese breaking wind resistance, the close ones, the far ones, the ones behind trumpeting, this is the gang who gets me sober and keeps me that way. Maybe you think that G-d is not a flock of geese, but it has been my experience and the honking and the mess are part of it all. I spend my days making sure I am one of them. Sometimes I am even in the lead, which may seem like a place of honor and prestige, but is actually a lot of hard work. Sometime I am the cheering squawker who makes my encouragement heard. Other times I am the one waddling around leaving an untidiness behind me. All of this just makes me part of the flock. I am especially fond of my nest mates though they are often the ones I chase and bluster at the most. I feel a sense of identity and pride when I see any goose flying high and know that because we don’t do it alone we are able to do it together.




Pet inspiration

*

FINE PRINT

I can scrawl the wall with everything I know
I can fill my books chapter and verse
With pure and honest hope
But let me begin the precision of language and watch.

My once open face becomes tight
My associations peek regularly around each corner
Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare

Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical
And God floats off untethered
Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers
Scrupulous observance never advances my sails

I must meet life with an open hand
The devil may not be in the details
But be sure to check the fine print.

[Tommi]

Originally Posted by PearlsNLace

Today I re learned that I have a hotel in my head for my resentments. Some resentments come and go- they check in for an hour or 2 for some nasty business and leave the dirty laundry for me to clean up.

Some, Ive kept like cherished guests and have redecorated their rooms with mongrammed towels and fluffly bathrobes.


These resentments find their way to my hotel through expectations and assumptions.

My check out key is a broom of acceptance of life on lifes terms. And the vaccume is service.

My occupancy has gotten a little full while I wasn't paying attention- and I couldn't figure out why Im snarky and panicky when things are going really quite well. Its check out time, Inventory list is in progress. Sponsor has been notified. It would appear I DONT need a couple of beers after work to be normal, no matter what the full hotel is telling me. Its not that Im overwhelmed, my hotel is overbooked.

Check out time in NOW.

I have seen that vacancy sign flashing in my neighborhood. Nice post./ thanks

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 5

Please Sir

Gratitude is a thing which collects and solidifies, it’s pink and I can walk around on it. Some days it is a broad highway and other times a winding spindling track. Ever present if I am mindful gratitude roots out pests and pestilence while planting a garden beyond my dreams. Gratitude is like handholding it warms and strengthens me, keeps me connected to real life and reassures me that I am not alone. Many days I find a way to make a face and pout, plundering the rich rewards of sobriety for the thin gruel of discontent, poke me with a stick on these days and remind me who I am, for I am never Oliver even if I feel a little twist.





Rest between great ideas


*

FEELING TEMPLES

I failed to appreciate the initial onslaught of feelings
I spent much time trying to capture them
Lock them away or in some other way submarine them

This only had the effect of retarding my recovery
I had to reframe my thinking
I had to start with simple calisthenics, embrace and celebrate

As my emotional health began to take shape
I started the foundations for tiny shrines
Each with its own theme

Happiness had a party going on until all hours
With grief there seemed to be a constant internment in progress
Body or no

Fear showed on IMAX film
Of the realities of life on earth
Curiosity had an endless library plus a DSL line

Making myself a willing and frequent visitor
To these contrasting places
Created in me wholeness and peace

Never again do I have to trudge
The two dimensional desert
Of my monochromatic former life

[Tommi]

The earth shakes and reminds me what powerless is all about.


It also reminded me as i treid to naviagate across the living room, what being drunk was like.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 6


Fearing Fearlessness

How many times have I given the credit to night blind fear, credit due the brave persistent child? How many times have I blamed the willing diligent pursuer when the fault was the backstabbing delay of mistrust? I resist the onset of freedom. Fear was my oldest familiar and I put from my mind that it was my jailer, captor; kidnapped me from my cradle and kept me locked from G-d’s fine intentions. Fearlessness sounds debilitating to my crippled ears, organs who hear well the disclaimers and are deaf to the claims. I am the producer of bile and addicted to dread, endorphins wear white hats and win the day once this yellow belly is put to bed.





Allow yourself distance from uncomfortable people



*

BIRDS AND BEES

Birds and Bees can get me drunk
I have to watch the amount of envy
Which pours through me as I watch their bliss

When others make a beeline to the hive
I must head to a meeting and save myself despair
If my spiritual condition is not sound

When other couples are weaving their nests
I have to be careful
Not to weave my way back to the bar

The mating dance is so sweet and seductive
I have to make sure
I don't end up doing the two step

For as much as I hate to admit it
If steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober
The rest would not have needed to be written

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 7

Two Things That Should Be One

The difference between my will and G-d’s will is that G-d actually likes me all the time, never looks to punish and would rather that I don’t settle for less then what is best for me.

The difference between G-d’s will and my will is left to my own devices I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough. I would never ask for help and would refuse if it were offered. I would take on misguidedness as a mantle and wear it to my wake.

Often my will and G-d’s will are miles apart, but they needn’t be. G-d is the president of my fan club; I just need to start attending the meetings.




Make music in your head that you can feel in your whole body

*


WHIP

I have been to the meeting where the play 'whip'
The meeting where the members are gotten in line
The tempo increases constantly in an attempt
To flick each other off into the land of shame and slips and less-than

This game is invisible to the participants
Though the stress on their bodies is surely felt
Spectators often misunderstand the meaning of the activity
And wrongly interpret it as strength training and endurance building

I think of it as a backward step
Throwing me to my initial desire for a drink
Living other peoples skewed lines
Sent me running for a bottle

The same lines
Placed around me in sobriety
Will measure me up for a box

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 8


Out on Your Front Porch


“If you want what we have,” said my sponsor, “you will have to follow somebody and lead somebody and do a few other things.”
“I have to follow somebody, that shouldn’t be too hard,” I mumble.
“In order to follow it helps if you stop looking at the ground, lift you gaze,” her retort. I raised my chin until I met her eyes. “Better,” said she.
“I follow you?” I ask.
“Me, yes, if I have what you want, follow others if I don’t,” she said.
“Okay and lead somebody, how do I do that?” I ask.
“It’s attraction, Sweetie, be attractive, show your smile and your smarts, but most of all show that you’re sober, because that is always your best asset. And no matter what anybody tells you about the allure of bad girls, nobody can resist a good set of assets”




Don’t let the rush of the river scare you from the bank

*

WHAT IS PAST

The past cannot hold me in a loving embrace
I run too often looking for affection and recognition
In things long dead and purportedly buried

I return to the ghoulish obsession of digging up
Old hates and sorrows longing for support
And finding only the cause of the ulcers in my soul

I wallpaper the crumbling facade
Not wanting to cover it up but to hold it together
Trying to unify something which is totally scattered

When I view it with a sober eye
The past is nothing but a slideshow
Under a strobe light

The pulse triggers the impulsive belief that it was all real
When in truth it was the lie I survived
No life existed in the past

Only now is there air to breathe
The past is all vacuum
And I don't need to be sucked away