![]() |
Helloooo Portland & Eugene end of year.
Quote:
Yes, and what a great, inspirational, and fun night/weekend they are in for.....:D. Anyone in the Portland/Eugene OR area let us know and we can meet up while we are in the area. We will be in the area Wed before and Mon. after the meeting. http://www.wacypaa.org/host.php Tommi, The Gay Main Speaker Authors Escort(f) |
December 6
MOSAIC I couldn’t prevent this plate from shattering, so I saved all the pieces, losing none. I laid them edge-to-edge and made a design, secured it with thin-set. Pieces of pattern framed with grout are seen, as they never could be when this dish was whole. I am part of this construction more than just handing china onto the table. Integrity has been lost but replaced with fractured openness. The plate has lost personal unity to become an ingrained part of my personal archeology. Fly your kite in the wind. |
December 7
ORIGINS Pain-filled interactions with people better suited to be left alone changed me in the way of acceptance. Wretched relationships with people made it difficult for me to have a loving relationship with the world. I had imprinted as a fledgling on sarcasm and ridicule, bitter milk that starved my expectations of kind response. I could not greet the world eagerly. Having never embraced the world; I failed to hang on as it turned. I slid on my face and hands. Mud covered, I try to keep an open mind and attempt a connection with this spinning orb. Color your emotions. |
December 8
THE WAY I DO IT Cooking by smell, parking by ear, recovering by touch. The latter has to be done this way; I cannot see into the black-box technology, which keeps me sober. Feel through the resentments, pain, sadness, joy; find myself under a pile of rags with a match in my hand. The many times the steps have saved me from becoming a human torch are balanced by the weight of the rope, woven from these same rags, that together we use to drag one another to safety. The savory scent of a meal, or the glee of front row parking can’t compare with the tender sense of a sober heart. Write bad advice on tissue and wipe with it. |
Hello to all those that come to read and venture on, but keep coming back...(y). Thanks sherrie for your daily service in so many places. :writer:
The way it's done...for each and every one of us along this journey. What delight in another day of life as I know it today, and remember it tomorrow. The mind is full of treasures, if we just open the door and look.Peeking into a day full of wonder, a night filled with sleep and wonderful dreams, and a destiny of love and life as sobering as it may be. Tommi, walking that happy road of destiny. |
I am really proud of you all for posting and sharing days of inspiration. Though I am not a friend of Bill's I am a friend of his wife Lois. Together anything is possible and no matter what dark or uncomfortable days lie ahead, there are always people with inspiring thoughts and compassion that will help the "you" inside return to the surface to face that adversity.
I am proud of all of you. Love and Smiles :frog: HP aka katrinka82 |
December 9
CLIMBING ON THE ARC If time swings and the seasons swirl and I pulse out my existence, why does the bird's wing flap and the rain fall down? If the song comes from my mother’s lips and my father tells his tales and I dance my heritage with each step I take, then why does the flower open to the bee and the swan trumpet her way home? If everything pulls from the ground and reaches for the light, then how can I duck my head, hide my heart and pass this all off as a coincidence? Am I less than the rain or greater than the swan? Why can’t I just climb on the arc and let the continuum spin its web around me? Well, you see I can, but will I? Let little birdies speak. |
December 10
ELECTRIC CONNECTIONS I step into a room and take its currency. Is the flow good? Steady? The pulse even and strong? Where are the power brokers and are they sharing the time or using their magnetic personalities to draw the current off others? I check the complement of resisters, examine their stripes and access the possibilities. I pump in energy when I can and take when it is available. I keep in mind we are all transformers and change is possible for everyone as long as we make the connections. Rich mistakes make good batter. |
December 11
TAPERS I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends. I borrow from the beginning, I steal from the end, coming up short and feeling deeply cheated. I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser, arch-traitor selling short the days and hours for approval, not fulfillment. I put away my true identity: mammal, human, the love of; I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer, a tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit of everyone who attempts the portrayal. In spite of this the roads teem with actors becoming caricatures of a life less lived. The world is more than a stage, and I must free powers greater than I to be more than an audience. Laugh at old jokes and tell new ones. |
December 12
BLEATING FORMALITY Stupidity stalks me when I am tired, hijacking my mouth. I can put this off to pilot error or interruption of service on my neurologic pipeline, but truly I have been captured by senseless, irrational muttonness. I would love to say it was pigheadedness but, alas, I am not self-determined, I am a sheep. I open my lips and out pours the same plaintive cry as the surrounding herd. In addition, once begun, the wail is unending; it’s as if the bellows works on its own carrying a tune which blends with the entire wool-coated world. I shift and run with my position according to the movements at large. I am following the reactionary breed, dropping the specifics of my personality as one of the crowd; my brain is switched off and a quick veneer grows over my eyes. I can’t see, think, or speak for myself and yet it doesn’t occur to me to hit the hay. When as a petulant three year old I do fall to sleep in my tracks, I wake as myself with many bleating apologies to be made. Put morbidity on a leash and never walk it alone. |
December 13
WHAT IS MINE The cloud of snow slept in the tree overnight and poured from the branches with the morning breezes. Showers of crystal, dropping from a clear daylight sky, are telltales of intentions delayed. What was meant for moon time has been kept till sunshine, a treat for bright eyes and young hearts. How can I weep over altered destinations? Arrivals and departures are truly within the province of poetry and postcards, not things for worry or fretting. Putty is for forming into an image of my desire not the world. Time is a liquid substance I cannot decant at my will. Shoulds and oughts are parlor games for the bored and senseless. If I waste my life playing a game I can’t win I will fail to see what I can’t lose. Work with someone who works. |
December 15
GOOSE I round this corner nearly everyday. There in the field stands a flock of problems pecking the ground and flapping their wings. Uniform and regular, the honking and squawking is undistinguishable from yesterday. I ponder and squint; are these the same or yet another gaggle making their way along a migratory path? Trouble is feral, skulking the edges of the field but never sheltering in the yard. I must leave my hands off, knowing these are not mine. The feathers fly and I gather the strays acutely aware of the ticklish nature of this. Awkwardly I face the truth; no matter how much of a perplexity this is to me or to others, it is only geese. Run because you want to and the starter’s whistle won’t bother you. |
December 16
GOOD SAMARITAN PIE The meal prepared from my cognition, the bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation, roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie, wait on the table to be devoured. The courses pass and come dessert my kindly intentions are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting. I can, with dollop after dollop, cover the requisite desires of this tart in an attempt to deny my addiction to fixing or I can serve up the plain truth. I help and help and wander down roads looking for lost puppies to return to their homes. I must admit my longing to lend support is sometimes half-baked, and if kept to home and hearth it might serve me better and make a sweeter dish. Assistance is best in proportion to the meal. I must live my life and save my pie till last. Hold each other's hands but explore. |
December 17
POPCORN FLAVORED LOLLIPOP I can’t know it. I can’t believe it. The world of popcorn flavored lollipops is now being visited upon me. Both a surprise and a comfort, a popcorn flavored lollipop is given to me by the gas station attendant. A blast of sugar and salt waken my tongue. What can a mind do in the face of a buttered, salted bonbon on a stick? I wouldn’t have thought of it, not in a million years. This is somehow a source of hope to me. There are open-minded people living in the world around me. I often pray for creative thinking on the part of my Higher Power; I inadvertently dismiss the populace who is producing prodigies of ingenious originality and cunning. I want the world to be gifted with what sobriety has given me. Candy is not world peace but many great things start with a little sweetness. Real rules can’t be broken. |
December 18
WATER PROOF What could water prove anyway? I get in the water and I get wet. I’m sure there is a theorem but a proof is highly doubtful. Naiads dance with tridents in their hands illustrating the beauty and danger of the waves but this certifies nothing. Juiceless arid dirt can make no claims either. I see the ducks take flight pushing the air with their wings and the rivulets trailing from webs. This is the thing to scoot beneath at the surface, take sustenance and pleasure, but never to become so saturated that the air is lost. Waterproof… is the way to go. Give preconceived notions a place on the shelf or in the can but no place in your life. |
Quote:
I'm having a rough day today and I'm so glad to know that you are always here, keeping the light on for me. Thank you. :bouquet: I'm grateful to be experiencing today with a sober mind and an open heart. Really facing the pain of a difficult situation can be so cleansing. And exhausting, I think I need a nap! |
Quote:
Sherrie |
December 19
ALMOST TWINS You and I are more alike than different yet we cannot get along, though I ponder why this surprises me so. A cloud and a watermelon are 98% the same and no one would mistake them in a crowd or expect them to be companionable except in the way of two things existing in the universe. My expectation of liking you for our similarities is set up by my fear that I don’t like myself, but the joke is on me. My dislike of you is not a reflection of anything but time and space. My friends are the people who like me, not necessarily the ones who are like me. The president didn’t like broccoli without slurring its good name and I can dislike you without inferring you are a vegetable. Enjoy the approach as well as the work. |
Hoping Saturday is a day of good music :listening: and dancing purepisces (even if it's all by yourself, no one is watching ) . :bellydancer: :hiding:
Wishing you well, and it is good to have the light on. :moonstars: and sherrie, thank you for today's one liner ~ inspiration. "Enjoy the approach as well as the work". I will apply it today as I dust :p |
December 20
COOCOO’S NEST I ran away to join the zoo hoping a life contained would calm me. The segregation hit me first; isolated exclusively with those of my stripe drove my thirst for diverse scents and opinion. Next, the monotony of the landscape bore into my brain. The well-meaning effort of the keepers bears the mark of folks who go home at night. The blandness of the food and music lent nothing to the experience, and antiseptic could drive anyone wild. The final blow, the one that struck constantly and coldly, was the stream of observers waiting to be entertained. Embrace plain tools and fine minds. |
December 21
WHAT’S MINE IS MINE I don’t always know how to get the dog off the baby. The attacks are often sudden and always swift. My shock at the reality delays my response, falters my steps and fogs my mind. What should I do to disengage this assault? What can I do that won’t make things worse? How can I resolve this now? The pain is almost unimaginable but yet all too familiar. It all comes down to ownership. I must admit this baby is me. I have to face facts; this dog is my pet, I have fed, nurtured and groomed him and now I have to put this dog to sleep. Explore the air not just the dirt. |
December 22
CHANGE IN MENU If God is drunk we pray for spiritual sobriety and strong sponsorship. If God is sober we ask for these things on God’s behalf and glory in answered prayer. It is amazing that the rain comes down if I dance for it or not. I can get this wonderful recovery just like the rest of ‘we agnostics’, I don’t have to shake your hand, wink my eye or say some special bit of poetry to have it. Just the same way that weather is and changes and deepens so too is my spiritual condition. It is there as I tread this path. I don’t have to mark the rows in my garden for the plants to grow. I wish for God a salad with two forks, we no longer need to share a bottle. Dance with your skeletons. |
December 23
TRUE VOICE Some tears pour from my eyes and others from my heart. What once was a head-game and theory is now heartfelt and real. I have grown in my compassion, leaving qualification on the curb. Letters and notice mean so little in the full-out scheme of all the world; like fashion, what is true today, stood on and dependable, is next years joke and off-hand reference. The thump of the muscle deep within me is a compass I can trust. The daily tide of splash and rush can spring water to my face, but what rouses my spirit is much more. I needn’t worry for its receding or discount that it is faithful; it abides with me still and will keep me if I let it. Some sounds ring from my voice; others resonate from within, these are the ones that last. Aim is as important as a strong arm. |
December 24
RETRO ANTICIPATION AND SUNSHINE The night after a victory I fret about the blocks. Will my stance be right? Will I leave cleanly? I have been first through the tape. I have won the race but yet I worry how I will start. Had I anticipated a win I might have handled the accolades better. Apprehension has a long half-life and feeds through the night on my gizzards and my dreams. Failure gives homework, there are rewrites and typos, but checkmate leaves an empty board and hands to shake. The long ride home is filled with recriminating thoughts of luck and fortune. By the time I arrive home the win is devalued and no longer mine. I must pry misgivings from the winner’s circle and enjoy. These moments in the sun are just as real as any others. Draw pictures of monsters, then let them lay. |
Miracles, Christmas Story, and Happy Holiday's 2 U
I am writing my Christmas letter and posting it here, because it seems a likely meeting place.
Happy Holidays it says on all the windows, and read in all the cards...I enjoy this season for so many reasons, and am sober and sane enough to live and love, and recall many miracles. Jan. 7, I celebrate many sober years, but for now, the Christmas magic is at hand, and I recall the wonder of my miraculous childhood.:anothersnowman: When I was a little dyke/tyke only child of the alcoholic parents, I got everything I wanted...except a sober holiday..I escaped into Plasticville USA, the twinking bubble lights on a huge tree, and the sound of the midnight train I steered around the living room....... My memory bank floods with the wonder of Christmas Eve, when my Uncle Donny morphed into Santa Claus ( he never fooled this precocious kid).We would travel from one house to the next watching the younger cousins, the aunts and uncles open their presents, in a caravan progression that ended at our house. Grownups toasting the seasonal favorite toddy. All the family gathered for a midnight dinner prepared by my Gramma, and then the magic of Christmas took me away. To the little town my Mom and I had created unter the big tree that dad had planted firmly on the 4 X 8 plywood platform in the corner of our living room Everyone gathered around our Christmas tree. I engineered the Lionel trains dodging through snow covered tunnels, corning around the Plasticville town. Letting the cousins blow the horn and raise and lower the lights of the Main Street USA village, I was in charge.:mountie:. The family would all leave, the treelights would be tuned off, and then the parental fireworks would begin. I retreated to my room, and wondered if she would be alive Christmas morning. I vowed to never pick up a drink, but, I did..and it took no time at all to raise the Rum and Coke toast at Christmas Eve with my Mom, aka Big Butch(who came out when I was 17) and our "chosen family". We moved 3, 000 miles from home, no twinkiling lights, no train and no raging alcoholic father. We drank together, we double dated, we went to Hollywood and did things I don't post about. Then the miracle happened right after a drunken Christmas and New Year's eve. My Mom went into rehab. I visited her, attended Al Anon, and knew, I needed to be in the other rooms too. We finally were able to enjoy every day, and night, a chance to love and live a rewarding and sober life before she passed away. Tonite, I open presents, toast with Diet Coke, and celebrate the miracles of the season, and being sober for over 30 years. Against all odds, miracles do happen. Have a very Merry Christmas and a sober new year, Tommi |
Thank you for sharing, Daddy. I am so grateful for the joy we have today, even holidays we share on the phone are so much better that all the past holidays before we found the joy we have with each other today. I can hardly wait to see you!
All my love, the girl |
Quote:
I'm happily enjoying my own sober Christmas tonight. :xmascandle: Merry Christmas to you and Sherrie!!! p.s. It snowed here today!!! :snowballfight: |
December 25
ALCONAUT Want to learn it fast but not deep? Just go to meetings and listen with half an ear. Call your sponsor only for her birthday and anniversary and tell her about all the things you are not doing anymore but none of the things you are. Skim the books for good quotes that sound impressive when they pass your lips but whose meaning has no chance of passing your heart. Find playmates and cliques, not a home group, and surely not a service commitment. Things fall out of orbit when they run out of juice and you will too. This program is not an air lock on the way to worlds unknown; it is a way to live in the world you know. There is no question that you have the right stuff. The question is, do you want what we have? Hug your feelings, pat their heads, then let them go. |
December 26
HEART HANDED I pick up the pen in my heart hand and the blood of my soul pours onto the page. The words coalesce and clot into the binding phrases; sealed deals with my spirit's punctuation. Some days it is hard for my mind to keep up; the current is swift and deeper than I expect. The pulse of energy is amazing even to the mind it feeds. Like clouds racing the sky this power brings shade to some and rain to others. The reaction of the moistened varies, some pull up hoods and scurry away, others with upturned faces form a friendship with me. At the level of electrons, we have a molecular bonding, we are forever changed because I have picked up the pen and they picked up the page. Chain yourself to wisdom. |
Quote:
,. So Cal weather is getting chilly... High of 65 expected today. .what will that do the tomato's in bloom out front? :cowboy: Thank you purepices, and sherrie.. Glad you are safe and sound, well, as sound as can be expected.. |
December 27
SIZING GOD UP God doesn’t need to be big. I only look for a big God when I feel very small. I turn to God as compensation for my feelings, as some sort of bolster to brace myself with. I have found when I am diminished in any way, God is tucked in a corner or pocket or drawer. I flee to the great out of doors and find earth, nature and wind but the God of my understanding is proportionate to my mental state. My partner is with me, near enough to hear the fear pour off my skin. God doesn’t run from me to adventures in the wild. I want to escape myself regularly but this is not my Higher Power's defect. I come back to God when I stop running from me. I face my reflection and recognize I am not towered over by a giant God; I am yoked with a power to share the load. Enjoy the shape of things. |
December 28
DON’T BITE Desperation jumps up, runs around, then drops. If I don’t feed it, desperation burns out fast. I used to buy the advertising, the Horror, the Humanity. The acorn falling on my head convinced me easily. I grew this nut into terrifying despair never realizing if I had left it alone how quickly it would pass. When tragedy comes there is no time for a performance. The whirling splendor itself proves the farce. If I learn to recognize these triggers I might keep from shooting myself in the foot. If I let desperation wear itself out I can stay with the pack. Despondence splinters me and separates me from anything rational but quiet resolve lets me watch the wind twist while I keep my feet on the ground. Pay your friends in consideration and truth. |
December 29
RELAPSE IS NOT REQUIRED “Relapse is not required,” said my sponsor, “though at some meetings they make it seem appealing, all that prodigal drunk treatment.” “Well, so far, I’m living in the blessing of being convinced the first time,” I told her, “plus what could possibly be out there that’s better than what’s in here?” “That is the point. There is so much out there that is faster and bigger, more dramatic and extreme, but I sure have never seen anything better,” she patted my head and I grinned. “Since I am winning the first time why would I want to lose?” I add just to overstate her point. “This is the perfect place for those who want it, and all the rest get drunk, but drinking is not required any more than Santa has to come on Christmas.” Save pretty words in a jar like candy. |
December 30
CARGO LOST, CARGO FOUND I fill the pallet of a new year's sobriety and, when it has been accomplished, make a manifest and strap this pallet with the others on the flatbed of my life. The cargo is secure and weighty; there is ample pressure where the rubber meets the road. I maneuver my rig carefully. I feel assured as I stream with the traffic on the byways. The power and magnitude of my transport prompts in me overconfidence. I fail to realize variation in weather or road conditions can jeopardize my journey. Eighteen wheels make for a poor cantilever when traction is lost and top-heavy wins out. In losing the battle of gravity, inertia and control I realize the past is not a weight I need to haul; all that is necessary is the inventory. I slip the pages into my pocket and walk the rest of the way. I am my only freight. Medicate with laughter and tears. |
December 31
FAILED SOUP AND DISTRUST OF BURGUNDY What keeps me coming back to meetings and step work is an abiding mistrust of booze. Despite promises and advertisement, hopes and folklore, I couldn’t rely on drinking to take me where I wanted to go and I surely couldn’t depend on it to keep me there. The struggle is great; the attempt to cling to salvation through decanter is mighty but in the end this joining of my chemistry to other chemistry failed miserably. No matter how I held my mouth, held my head, held my liquor, satisfaction escaped without me and I was left here in the soup of my disillusion and disappointment. Failure to cooperate fully with alcohol lead me to try sobriety as an alternative. I may not always succeed in my recovery, but I can draw dividends on every deposit and use this to build a path to my desires. Make a private heaven with plenty of windows and doors. |
To my readers:
Beginning January, 1 I will be making a change in the format of my post/ blog. As you may or may not be aware. I have for several years been posting each day’s page from my book Sober on the Way to Sane. This year I will be posting a combination of the day’s page from my new book More Sober on the Way to Sane and underneath that the corresponding page from Lines from My Life a poetic reformulation of Sober on the Way to Sane. As a way of introduction I am sending this post, which contains the dedication to each book set in the new posting format I will be using. I hope this is a change for the better as is my intention. Happy New Year! _ True Confessions and Ernest Pledges The world changes everyday. I don’t know if you notice it, I don’t always, but how different the world has been writing this volume than it was writing Sober on the Way to Sane has shocked even me. This year I have been shaken in ways I had hitherto thought impossible, actually these things were so out of my realm of thought that I had not dismissed them; they were in fact unimaginable. I am still here and you are here with me and for that I am grateful and I thank you. The world is at once wonderful and terrible and staying sober through it all seems improbable even as I stand here clean and sober all these long years. I believe this book contains some of my finest work and I hope that you find it a help; possibly an encouragement. Hand in hand we travel this path. If the only place we meet is on the page we are still bound to one another, still the iron in the blood of the other. I extend my hand to you in oath that I will use the tools I have and open myself to new ones. I hope that you will offer your pledge to do the same and I will meet you here if you will and face to face if the Fates will have it, together we stay sober so that you and I never need be drunk or alone. Very truly, Sherrie T ~ Dedication This book is dedicated to my mother, Winnie Jenkins, Who had a vision of these poems. She took my blocks of words and Teased the poetry out of them! Thank you, Mom, I not only wouldn’t have done this without you I couldn’t have done it without you You are the best! Love, Sherrie |
January 1
Lie Yes, a lie is just a lie, but the truth also has problems. I relay the facts and the words take on a life of their own, leave out the backdoor and walk on down the road. They move to another town and never find time to come back for a visit even though, I am their mother. And woe to the woman who grows attached to credit or recognition for her ideas. These kidnapped prodigies are never ransomed but sold outright and their DNA not questioned or tested. So, my advice is to love your words in secret and raise your notions behind high walls. If you are ever called upon to share your wisdom, lie. For even if you’re caught the risk is tolerable. Exposure is awkward but then again no one is looking, so, what is there to lose. A lie is just a lie but it stays home with you at night. Tie a string to the moon ~ THE COWS ARE HIGHER THAN THE HOUSE I got sober only to end up living in a house where the cows are higher than the house. I mean next to my house there is a hill The hill is surrounded by a fence The cows are pastured inside the fence Standing on the hill the cows are taller than the house. I didn't expect to live in a house where the cows were higher. I expected normal I didn't expect the cows at all. I expected the house but not this house It's at the end of the lane It's the one with the rose colored shutters. My sponsor wants to know why rose colored shutters Are OK but cows overlooking the house aren't? I can't answer her It's just wrong - that's all! I don't know why she can't understand this It seems perfectly clear to me. My sponsor says I am powerless over the cows And my life is not unmanageable but my thinking is. She tells me to paint purple cows. To write stories about worse places for the cows to be I tell her the tub. She says write it down. She's no fun. I heard in a meeting I should pray for the people And things I am upset about. I pray for the cows My sponsor says the cows see how I live my life And she is sure the cows pray for me. |
January 2
GOOD AS GOLD Just because I’m as good as gold doesn’t mean that I win the prize. Doesn’t mean I get my way. Doesn’t mean I gain your heart. Being ‘extra special sweetness and light girl’ doesn’t secure my future. It does prevent me from living my life as someone I don’t like. It contents me to keep my own company. It is a huge improvement over living as the raging fury I once was. Any destination I desire is more readily assessable from this amiable posture; in spite of inexpert yearning. I can breathe past you if must be, walk down the road holding my own hand instead of holding a lung full of air. But I am the treasure. You must earn me never capture me. Appreciate me not devalue me. I’m good as gold. And please know that I am the prize. Remember yourself as you would an old friend ~ THERE ARE ONLY 23 MORE SHOPPING DAYS LEFT TILL MY NERVOUS BREAKDOWN Shoppers beware: I have a careful plan I can juggle these thirty things and keep these twenty people happy Dig around in the dirt at these three excavation sites And hold onto my sanity for twenty-three more days. My sponsor says "Having a plan like that Means I'm already crazy." My sponsor says "I don't have to please anyone But myself, my Higher Power and her." That can't be right. What is the point of sobriety if I can't do it all? She says "I don't even have to please her or myself." What does that mean? How can I tell if I'm pleasing my Higher Power? She says "Shut up and you'll find out." Great! What a plan, I like my countdown better Of course I do, It's mine, my countdown, my life, mine, mine, mine. Maybe my sponsor isn't all wrong. OK, quiet....da, da, da, ...da, da, OK quiet for real Hmmmm, I don't, don't know This isn't working, I can't do this. Why would I need to stop being me in order to get better? "Who are you?" she asks, she thinks she's so smart. I'M THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE. She says "The eye of the storm is empty and I need to get a life of my own. |
January 3
Maniacs on Pogo Sticks I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears. Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by. I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole. I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose. I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target. Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife ~ DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS I show up at a meeting I didn't know the circus was in town I expected calm, demure, sober behavior My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst. There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker There were kids playing among the chairs Smokers worked the meeting in shifts Hustling out the back door and smoldering back in. The side conversations rivaled the main attraction People dressed for the street not the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no shirt Was more of a high-wire act then I had ever seen before Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind. "But for the grace of God" said my sponsor "No" I said "It's a choice, they're sober now." "Oh yes" she remarked "Weren't you sober when you took on Every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?" "I was cutting my chops. They understood." "Some of them didn't." said she "Weren't you sober when you dyed your hair red - but only half?" " I was afraid I'd dye my scalp, so I started lower." "Yes, but aren't you the one who says sudden hair color change Is a sign of instability in sobriety?" "Yes, I do." I replied "I think you would have fit in well with the circus." "You and your two tone hair but you didn't hear it from me." "You're mean." "And what are you being?" "Judgmental." "That's my girl, what are we going to do about it?" "Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough" "Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms." "Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL." |
January 4
One Singular Crowd Isolation among the isolators is replete with metaphor and theme. Expectation blithers loudly but is drown by the palpable inevitability of the outcome. I pirouette in a room filled with dancers but we do not touch, we just spin near one another full view but little contact. Yet I hear my heart beating in my ear and know that I am alive. The flush of neighboring cheeks attests to duplicate conditions there. We are moving together sometimes in harmony but other times in antipathy, dependant all the same. We are the army of independent meanings. Individual cases sharing one slender goal but that’s all that we need. If you can’t find the grape try some jelly. ~ THE BOAT On my ride home from work there's a boat stuck between two trees In the middle of a horse pasture Next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass. I think the boat is me. I feel for the boat every time I see it. Turned on edge, waiting for a river which doesn't exist anymore And may never exist again Placed on edge for protection, not comfort. Although having my bottom rot out Well, let's just say, might be more uncomfortable What good will I be even if the river runs again Since I'm fenced in? If my Higher Power has a plan If it includes a river and a fence If I'm in this plan, me, the row boat I just don't see it. Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life Truth is, I don't want to face the fact, I might float away Even though I'm supported by two big trees Even though there is a tall fence around me. Completely in spite of the fact THERE IS NO WATER My Higher Power loves me. I AM THE BOAT |
All times are GMT -6. The time now is 02:04 PM. |
ButchFemmePlanet.com
All information copyright of BFP 2018