Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 29

The Regulator

Face to face the clock stares me down. I nearly dare the mismatched hands to beat me at my part. Their never-ending round-house drops me to the ground. My foot work is no equal for eternity. Fancy days and star lit nights distract me from the fight I’m losing, directing my thoughts to what I gain. If I turn with the hours dwelling in the moments the clock and I are friends, no more mad-dogging, no time to lose. Time is with me till the end, it is not the death of me; it’s the time of my life.


Smuggle your sweetness out from under your cynicism

*

PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

There is a penny in the bathtub.
I wonder who stood in there with loose change
Possibly confused it for a wishing well the penny was tossed in.

The stories I could tell, the hopes that tantalize my mind
Elves and leprechauns, dreamers and optimists,
All trundle through my thinking.

When I don’t know the answers
At least now I can look for the best,
The sweetest thoughts.

I don’t run to the dark and threatening disasters
I have lost the lease to my personal black cloud
The one which used to follow wherever I went.

I can smile now
And think of pennies from Heaven
The first drop landed in my tub.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 30

The Acts of Hope

I cover my head when I pray in hopes that G-d wants me sheltered. I attend meetings to keep alive the hope that sobriety is the end of isolation. I talk to the people in my network hoping I have something helpful to share. I sit down to the blank page with hopes that HP still chooses to collaborate with me. I pick up my paintbrush filled with hope that color is still my friend. I inhale air along with hope that each breath is worth the effort and I am worthy of this life.



Take your inventory but don’t sell your stock

*

WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS DUCK

The duck looks fine sitting on the edge,
The rubber face frozen in a permanent grin
The appearance is flawless.
As long as it is not called to duty
No one will ever know.

Stay still---don’t jump.
When dropped into the water
This creature born for the tub
Lays on its side, one eye looking at the ceiling
The other straight at the bottom.

Floating is occurring but something is oh so wrong.
As indelicate as it may seem
This duck needs a big squeeze
No kid gloves and tender touches.

This duck has sucked in old bathwater
And misused ideas
Only a big push in the right direction
Will get this rancid stuff out.

Though the duck will get bend out of shape
There is no reason it can’t bounce back
That’s the wonderful thing about rubber
It is flexible and resilient
Even if it doesn’t always volunteer.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 31

Charmed by Snow


Warm weather snow falls in fat full flakes; I am living in a world of dreams and sweet peas. Sudden dustings sparkle and surprise leaving as quickly as they came; yet the world is kinder now. Beauty is an ambush of the heart. My breath alters, accelerates, speeding me to a smile, an illustration of joy. Crows walk the edge of the hedgerow, prattling on as they do; snow to their ankles and food on their minds. I drive over the mountains discovering myself as the recipient, the receiver of all this great gift, this life.



Trek to the edge of your comfort zone and map it out

*

MORTIFICATION

Lime with envy I built a wall around.
Love and hate are enclosed, brick and stone.
Rigor of extremities, the discipline of ages falls so short.

I make no in-depth connections
I coat externals with glue
Stack reaction and let the bombs fly.

I mix and crush old habits and bad ideas, make a paste.
I am setting myself up again.
Abstinence becomes the pestle of bludgeoning and abasement.

I am hard and I am hollow
Wounded pride, I subjugate my soul
My life is reduced to a powder, I am mortified.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 1

Porcellano


Some days I feel like a porcelain doll; hard head, hard hands, hard feet and everywhere else is soft, gormless. I feel useless and act out my feelings, stumbling through a day of pointless inactivity. I know that I belong on a shelf or propped upon the pillows of a bed, not fine enough for curio or collection, merely someone of marginal decorative value. I have gotten away from the meaning of me, the thrum of G-d’s intentions and am trapped in this world of elaboration; everything is embellished and nothing is real. It is time to put my foot down; to feel the earth solid and right, to catch my mind and take it out of its greasy spin. I am not a China doll and it is time to walk away from these purloined thoughts.




Wear a white cotton cord around your waist

*

I KNOW



I know more than I understand.
I know more than I let on.
I know right from wrong
Left from right, uphill from down.

I know you have my best interest at heart
I know I often don’t.
I know it hurts when I fall
But holding on isn’t easy.

I know that wanting is not needing
And needing is not enough
I know old thinking breeds old action
But new thinking is often wild
And requires two minds for review.

I know to look three ways before crossing the street
Because trouble sometimes hits head on.
I know that if life is the question, yes is the answer


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 2


In Plain Sight

When there is a problem, I hide. As the good places diminish I end up standing behind a pole. The trouble with this is that something always sticks out. I try weight loss, I suck in my tummy, I try to blend with the scenery. Once spotted I act nonchalant; “I’m just hanging around with my skinny friend; nothing is the matter,” attempting to cover with a casual aside what is apparent to everyone but me. I would be better off parading naked than endeavoring this piteous disguise. I can’t fool the crowd and trying to makes a fool of me. What I have forgotten is that clarity and diligence removes the target from my back and makes me invisible to almost everyone. When I solve my problem I solve this problem too.




Permit anxiety to drip off you and flow away


*

WALKING JOY HOME

I make sure to walk joy home,
Not because I doubt her ability to find it alone
Rather because it gives me extra time with her.

I used to fear joy.
That I would be intoxicated by her presents
And lose my well-hardened grasp on realism.

Now I see that without joy in my life there is no realism
That it was only cynicism
Masquerading in its place.

Joy is simple and unassuming,
I often confuse her with ecstasy and scoot away in shy terror
Joy is nice to have around she is not just a party animal.

Sometimes I invite her over for a cup of tea.
When we are done I take the winding path
To savor every step up to her door.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 3


Big Name

My name has a foreign sound; my head turns when it is called. I recognize this as training not identity. I remember teaching the dog her name. I called it while petting and praising her, soon the name was hers. Now, I think of G-d. Did we call long and loud enough to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible? Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable; assigned it a place on a shelf; somewhere to be called up from? Does that noise sound as strange as the syllables of my name sound to me? Does it matter as long as we answer?


Check for low doorbells and high expectations

*

PARADOX OF PARADISE

Paradise is created when I collect paradox and live with it.
Paradise is the set of acceptance and suspended disbelief.
If anything is possible accepting what comes is less heart wrenching.

If I arrest my misgivings
Gratification in the voluptuousness of now ---is velvet.
Vague consent is a Hell of incapacity.

Fighting fiercely for both sides
Keeps the heart pumping and the mind at bliss.
I must work to embrace contradiction and happiness
.
There is more than one path to take
And I must take that one.



You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 4

Sleep Tight

Did you dream? Sleep the sleep of faultless souls? Or twist the sheets as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment? Are night time wrestlings an indication of decadent day- time activity? Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance? Possibly something I ate? Thought? Wished for? I think to myself I should not have gotten into that unmade bed, should have made it up; the bed and my mind, should have straighten out the crumpled mass of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh, but instead I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed, lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea. What time I might have saved by leveling the playing field and plumping the pillows. All is not lost, there is always tonight. Sweet dreams straight ahead.


Throw the ball even if you can’t pitch it

*

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of transparency
The other becomes reflective.
When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me
I see the true face of its results.

Because I know now the destructive possibilities
I must print the picture and post it on the wall.
For the day may come when addiction appears
As a light for me and the mirror will be gone.

I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me
And my sensibilities catch on fire.
The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler,
The glare of day can be harsh or bright.

Light is forever shifting
I cannot count on shadows for predictions.
I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember
And hold hands and never let go.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault