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July 4
Origins At the root of it all is darkness. The place from which I grow, the structure that holds me fiercely upright, is pressed on all sides by dirt. When I get right down to it the ethereal leaves and twigs even the branches, do not exist, except for my foundation in the composted death and recycled life; the ground. For is it G-d who rains down from the heavens light and water or is G-d truly living at the center of the earth, warming my toes and securing me to what is real. Use a mirror for words on the tip of your tongue * KEY I asked for the key to my problems. My expectation was a metal instrument With which to unbolt the lock to my desires. What I was given is a systematic explanation Of the symbols of the plan of my life. This has been a wonderful gift And I have benefited greatly. But first I have to stop brooding About the loss of my wished for trinket. Putting names on my map helps me Stay off cliffs and out of rivers The code is broken I can decipher direction and intent The composition of life’s offerings Fit and harmonize in unimagined ways. It creates archways strong and unbending Giving me access to reefs of beauty and rest. I asked for the means to open a door But gained entry to the world. |
July 5
Tyler’s Truth The snow is dying, pouring itself into the creeks and riverbeds. Sacrificing its crystalline structure and community for the ubiquitous oneness of liquid. Drawn by the gravitational lure of the ocean. Unity conquers the frozen individuated whole. Pulled from coast to coast the sun tempts the water’s life, the sea gives up her soul to the sky to be reborn as snow once more. Open your mouth just to see if a song comes dancing out * THE RAINBOW What is that look of concentration? Asked my sponsor I am trying to see the gray. The gray? She queried. Yes, I heard at the meeting that between the Black and white there’s a lot of gray. Well my darling I don’t want you to have black and white thinking. But what lies between black and white Are all the colors ---the full spectrum What am I to do with this information? What do I do with all those colors? I ask in shock and confusion For right now, just remember That all colors aren’t blue. |
July 6
What is at the Eye of the Storm? Serenity is the alignment of three knowledges 1. Knowing that I am not without skill, talent, gifts. 2. Knowing that I am not without community, connection, comfort. 3. Knowing that I am not without G-d, whether or not I believe G-d is able to intervene. When I am in full or even partial possession of these three I am safe from storm, or no, drought or no, fiery hairy pestilence and without this knowledge everything is storm, drought and pestilence, no matter what anyone else says or all evidence to the contrary. I will make my own mess when bereft. I will pay a large price for ignoring the facts and the lion’s share of this loss is loss of my serenity. Disrupt the effectiveness of negativity * THE BEAR Living with my disease is like having A sleeping Bear in the house. I knew it was there, could hear it snore. I never felt comfortable or able to turn my back On it and get on with my life. I felt under certain threat. Fearing the bear would wake When my attention was elsewhere I proceeded to poke it with a stick. I prodded it to wakefulness In retrospect it is clear I was unprepared For a wakeful bear. Even with my full attention fixed on the brute The Bear, which is my disease, roamed about the house And made forays out into the world. I had no plan or tool for these events Finding a legion of people who had worked out Living arrangements with their Bears I happily joined their ranks. My Bear wakes and sleeps at its will But I am no longer afraid or unskilled At handling this creature Today I am so grateful for the Bear in my life. I would never want a life without it I live in a world filled with Bears And would be at a loss as how to exist If not for the practice and success With the Bear that is my own. |
July 7
Keeping My Seat I can sit through this. I can do it even when I don’t remember that I want to. I will get through this no matter how it tweaks me and I squirm in my seat. In spite of the unfairness of it all, I can do what is right, because that is what is best for me. Acting out or giving up are options that I have, but I like me too much to choose so poorly. When this is all settled I will still have me no matter what else I gain or lose. If I don’t like me anymore I have lost everything, if I can hold my head up, proud of my behavior this is the most valuable gain. Love is only love if I am still here to feel it, so I will sit still. Set group goals for your tiny terrors * TIME TABLES I know the train is coming And I want to read the schedule I hear rumors that the convoy going to Feeling will arrive in two years. The five-year expedition to getting my brains back Seems unlikely but is often commented on in meetings. Excursions to far-off destinations such as Functional and Reasonable have me on my feet In gleeful anticipation. Still I wish for a clear mapping of time. I feel I could leave off the worrying About the How of it if only I could Be sure of the When. This cavalcade of adventure Would be so much more palatable With a well written itinerary. |
July 8
Tooth Fairies and Super Heroes I never know who the tooth fairy is going to be. Who might be the one person who will know CPR in my hour of need. Which unlikely friend will whisper to me the secret code to my mental lock. I have been caught off guard by the power of the most unlikely wallflowers. It is important for me not to prejudge, but even more important to leave space for surprise and the delightful aptitude of those around me and for that matter from strangers on the street. Also, it is good for me to remember there is change in my pocket and a resuscitation certificate in my wallet. Repattern the impressions made on you * FAR OFF PLACES Meetings too near home are unsatisfying to me. On smooth simple days, local meetings are fine, I catch a meeting, just slip it in. On rough days I yearn for an out of town meeting. After these many 24’s I come to realize I need the ride As much as I need the meeting. Like a discontented baby, I need more that just a trip around the block. The comfort of taking flight in my car Is equaled by arriving at some far off AA meeting Fresh faces and a new take on old woes Are an antidote to my colicky attitude. The drive back offers a sense of triumphant homecoming A good meeting can be had anywhere Sometimes I just need a change of place Or a change of pace. |
July 9
Night Clothes and Bed Clothes Is there any indulgence quite like that of clean sleepwear warm from the laundry? Pulling on jammies over squeaky clean skin and the little shutter that goes with tired hedonism is a pleasure without formed words, left for grateful sounds and little moans. Hard work creates more than stability, more than cash flow and more than mere exhaustion, hard work changes my mind about delight and allows me to see it in the most obvious, most subtle of places. My bed has become haven, hospital, refuge and I am tucked up in my nest and safely out of my mind. Tidy around your messy emotions * THE WATER YOU DRINK Anyone who has to be drug to water Doesn’t deserve a drink. said my sponsor What about raising the bottom? I question. I’m not talking about that I am discussing people you try to convince into recovery The folks you try to accommodate . The ones you attempt to bend reality for These are the type who will piss in your well Let me be clear-------- I am not concerned with individuals who piss in the pool Which is rude and disgusting But basically not life threatening . When your well is defiled When the place you draw your drinking water from Is used as a chamber pot--- your life is at risk. Don’t ever pull your pants down Over someone’s fresh water Don’t let anyone squat with their bare ass over your sobriety |
July 10
Special Is it the wiring between my ears, the size of the pump in my chest? The difference which can be seen when you look from me to the neighbors? I know that you feel me to be special. I feel me to be special, too, just like you. Defining that thing, that combination which unlocks the mundane is more than just an attempt to point a finger; it’s a search for that little light. Close and closer we pull together and that is special but now I will whisper it, tell you the secret truth is my ability to play. Come play with me! Whistle with the tune the wind brings you * IT’S MY PARTY The party I was throwing myself in addiction Was nothing but a very long wake. There were no smiles, only murmurs of what might have been. I was filled with tears I couldn’t cry And mourned my death as I caused it. When I took off my little black dress And stepped from this shroud I closed the bar, clicked the switch and the dirge stopped. The funeral ended prematurely I walked into AA where I learned to be the life of the party. |
July 11
Let God Do What? I hesitate to let go to G-d because I fear that G-d doesn’t like me, or likes me now, but doesn’t like me all the time. I think I got this belief from being the only child of parents who don’t like children. It never mattered how good I was, how smart or thoughtful, well informed, helpful, I always ended up being treated like I was a burden, someone to be endured. If only I was likeable, I would think to myself and try recreating me to become….what? Finally I settled on indispensable, if I could make myself necessary, then my life would be okay. People would need me therefore they would want me. What I discovered is that people who can’t live without me end up resenting me. By the time I was so important to others I was no longer important to me, so I didn’t need G-d’s help because I didn’t need anything, I didn’t exist. Over time what I have settled on are a few truths: People who don’t like kids shouldn’t have them. And I need G-d’s help to learn how to want to be here on this planet since I was not brought to earth by people who wanted me. Title your dreams * SYMPTOMATIC BOUQUET My bouquet of symptoms took root in alcoholism I displayed these blossoms to few. I thought I could keep these problem posies to myself. No need to worry Everyone has a bit of manure in their lives. Mine hardly seem strange. Planted in addiction things grew in a dramatic way Pruning became unworkable, Drastic measures were required. Uprooted and exposed these virulent stalks Created the need for help from better gardeners than I. Thinned and repotted these character traits Have fruited many a lovely harvest. None of which could have happened Had I been left in the family plot. |
July 12
A Year for Me The world is my mollusk and I am its pennyweight paragon, witty girl that I am. I have spent enough time surrounded by wet feet and confining shells, all held at the bottom of the sea. This is a year for me. I am going to climb over the rim of my briny brink and try myself against the fearsome winds of chance. Although souse is buoyant I feel strong enough to stand my ground. Time has come for life, open and raw, but I shall leave the clams to the casino. Allow ticklish issues to make you laugh * HOLD THE LINE Relax is not the same as give up. Unwind is not fray. Letting go doesn’t mean never grab hold. It is important to have moderation in all things Including moderation, exuberance and enthusiasm, These are wonderful in their season Too much and I could get an adrenaline addiction. Make sure your song has more than one note And make sure you sing more than one song in your life. Change, interest and excitement are vital to my existence If you take all the spikes and ridges Out of your life line It means you’re Dead. |
July 13
Old Nasty My addiction is like a Percheron, bigger and more powerful than I am, but what I have learned is that if I treat this horse with due respect and a guiding hand from my recovery and my Higher Power I can harness the energy of my illness and use its’ force to make my life work. I can never be the master of alcoholism, but I can see it for what it is; an overgrown instinct looking for an outlet. When I am given my way out I take this beast with me and when I value that partnership we are both safe. When I have tried to lock it in a stall and run far from the barn, it kicks my life down. When I put my head in the yoke willingly, together we are led and we do the work which is fulfilling and rich. I was meant to work in a team, I am grateful to have a teammate. Close your eyes and look at yourself * QUICK-------SAND !!!!!! Don’t ask how deep the quicksand is. Said my sponsor. It’s your job to get out of it--not quantify it. I’m not sure how to get out. Will you come and get me. I ask her? No Darling, if I get in we will both be down for the count The only chance we have for me to help you Is if I stay out of the morass With my feet firmly on solid ground. What if you can’t get me out. I cry? I will go get more help. What if all of AA can’t get me out? Angel, my hope is, that if there was no way out You wouldn’t even know you were stuck. |
July 14
Wales It is safe for the houses to sleep in the streets, but not for me. I cannot follow that which is so right and regular for mundane things. I am a jagged piece and it is hard for me to find my place. The sun comes though everyone’s windows and peeks around the blinds left down. I must mind my manners and not be a nuisance or a bother; draw no undue attention to my brightness, carry a basket to hide it in. And while every river can drown its sorrows in the rush of the downhill sweep to the sea; I must stand here stock cold sober and bear the pain appointed to me. Curl your fingers into the tangles of life and hang on * WAKE Don’t worry that you might spoil the procession By getting out of your coffin. You don’t need to lie there waiting for the lid to close. People will walk past saying ---so sad---too bad But don’t lie instate just to keep them from feeling Their trip was a waste. Just because the crypt has been purchased Doesn’t mean you’re ready to go. There are still opportunities to dance. Don’t die for love, glory or pride. Don’t die before your time. Death is only an honor If you lived every preceding second. |
July 15
Sympathetic Strings A guitar with 28 strings generates much sympathy from the cords which were not strummed. Pluck is contagious and inspires much harmony and verve in the vicinity in which it shows face. Sympathetic strings vibrate in response to the jangling around them but are tuned to their own notes. Much distortion adds to the depth of the sound created by this throng. Can you hear my life? How a disturbance in my life rings in the lives which surround me? How I twitch and chime when things are twanged in the lives of my neighbors, my friends, my kin. We make the music of care, the discord of reaction. To every move there is a sound to every sympathy a harmony. Surprise yourself with the light in your own eyes * THE LIVING DREAM Throwing yourself into the river in pieces Drowns you as crumbs. Casting aside love and longing makes you less in your heart and your soul stops beating. Pitching your tent with critics and complainers Leaves you out in the cold on warm summer evenings. Crest the hill to meet the rising sun Orbit the constellations without hesitation. Petit point the pictures in your mind Then set them to music. The world is your dream Live it into reality. |
July 16
Rounder Back again, yes, that I see, but change is not the same as return. What I know of you is your past. I believe the past because I know it. If there is a new you to meet that remains to be seen. Even a chameleon sheds its skin, though I doubt its intrinsic nature is altered much in the process. So flash your smile and wind your words into the thoughts of those with whom you have no history. I’ve been exposed before, the virus doesn’t conquer me, I am immune. Once bitten makes me wary when you come around again. Pick a color and let it find you all day * TO SLOOP When I was a tanker- I carried such a heavy load. The diesel cycle ran at regular intervals And my internal temperature was terrific. The fuel sprayed and things went round and round The cost was high. Now my principal means of propulsion Is the wind in my sails. Conversion was difficult Though I found the rigging and mast a fascination The ballast was a heavy load to bear. Cargo is something short lived To be cast off at the next port. Incumbent discretion is welded to my keel And will go with me to every harbor. As a tankard, liquid was transported or consumed. As a cutter, dependability keeps me tacking into the wind. Now my outlay is low and my rewards are high I carry only what I need, I am free, a sloop upon the sea. |
July 17
Horse Play The sequestered equestrian rides alone through the night; the wood is as quiet as she. Passing no one; speaking not a word, she slips into the paddock without a nicker or a neigh. I long to be just as she, not silent sentinel, but living a whist fleet life, a power unto myself. What stands between are my hurt feelings and my longing to be loved. I can’t blame myself for either, but work to heal and grow. Nagging need is a pestilence I will be well rid of; the irredeemable past is luggage for a catalog, not for hauling on my back. I will mount up and ride my great round stead, the night is mine when I am ready the path is there I know. Imagine an ostrich in flight * GRAFT The bottom has been cut out My underpinnings stripped from me.. Budding ambition whittled down, transplanted, Saddled onto the rock like stock of other peoples sobriety. Taped to the leg of my sponsor I heal and grow. I splice my thinking with the rich ideas of improved living I cling to the cleft, divisions made from the people, Places and things of my past leave me split, Primed for fresh growth and opportunity. Never again do I need return to the sordid Acquisition of power or control There is no gain when I am bolted to position and influence Graft is graft for good or bad I don’t have to grow where I was planted. |
July 18
Cicatrix and Love The mark left by injury is indelible though it may heal, the consequence remains. This is also true of love. I am branded and changed by your affection. The improvement wrought in me does not leave when you do. If you stop loving me, can no longer remember my name, my face, my sigh; I am better for having had your love if only for a short time. Good medicine offers lasting results; the miracle of your love is my health. The blush in my cheek, the revitalization I feel is traceable to you, to the days you held me in your heart and the nights you held me in your arms. And though I want you back in my world the best of you lives on in my life. Slice time with your thoughts and peer through the pieces * JUXTAPOSITION Right next to this world is the globe that I came from. The landmarks are similar but these spheres have little in common The angle of refraction illuminates the place of my origin The source of this light is legend. On my home planet, the existence of sobriety is cast off as myth. I held onto this tale with my heart. I slipped the gravitational bonds of Crazy one night By the glow of the ready button on the coffee pot. Here and there intersect at only one point A room with some chairs and a circle with a triangle. The meeting was on step one And it was a good place to jump in. |
July 19
Rings of Color against Butterflies Resistance I can accomplish directly; impedance requires magnetism from an alternating world. I can drag my heels and live life in a sandpaper shack making everything a chore, but what it takes to throw furniture in the path of progress, slamming doors and turning off the lights that is more than I can do on my own. This takes the cooperation of my disease and me, the monkey-hoop, which is effort and clever repartee. Look how well we do it, too. Distracting possibilities, staving off humanity and the humane, may not sound like much, but it takes up our whole day; goodness is such a persistent little grub. It takes a concerted effort to prevent it from chrysalis and failing that, still more determination to make sure it doesn’t fly. Listen to music the way you walk through a garden * 2 CHAIRS Math is the language which moves Closest to the speed of my brain. The language of recovery slows my thinking So I am more than numbers and clicks. I need not race my mind in an effort to win. I am my prize. The victory is mine if I can embrace who I am. I can use numbers to figure whether I am more or less But owning who I am must be given To the talk of the soul and heart. My nashamah is not an astral projection To be theorized but the seat of my emotions. The only way to discover myself Is through deep and loving conversation So I had best pull up two chairs. |
July 20
Taking the Field Humor is an illustration; a joke, an explanation. I learn far more from the smiles than the jeers. Laughter carries me; an action, which tears can’t always accomplish. It is hard to live with constant descent, but wit is a quick impassioned friend. Thoughtless conformity is an evil companion I prefer the company of those who play. Life is too hard from the sidelines; I would rather take the field. Find a pit crew before you crash * DEFINITIONS I am close to my Higher Power But I have no words to describe It. I have found it best to say nothing unless asked. When I do speak it is always the path I took Or the way I held my face. I know the things, which changed And the wind, which blew. This is not the sketch most people seek. My skin is brown and my smile broad. This is not from over exposure to beams of light. Closeness warms me, I glow from standing near. I know the face and form is different for everyday I must not stop for definitions. |
July 21
Rules There are rules about breaking rules. You can do it this way, but must not that way. Cross this line and you get dragons; cross that line you get a good natured slap on the wrist. Beneath the reflective surface of law I have found many shoals and sandbars; rocks and outcroppings, layer upon layer of blue depth I can only partly chart. I also find inquiries in this matter meet with the same reaction as asking about: yeti, crop circles, or what was kept in Uncle Author’s spare room. Those willing to talk about it I often fear to hear from and the reluctant to speak I fear to pursue. You see this investigation is just another thing from under that sea. Look before you listen * MY BABIES Too often I have abandoned the infants Of my creativity to doorways and charities Having little patience I did not raise them To their intended station. Joyful parentage need not stop At the cutting of the cord. Down playing the importance of each birth I leave beauty and art to be foundlings And the province of others. I can share the guardianship of these precious gifts And be more than a broodmare for cunning and craft. I have neglected things For the promise of each new conception. Overpopulation weakens the body of work And leaves my portfolio listless and immature. |
July 22
The Landscape of Words Paint takes time to dry; I work with words. I say azure and you are there with me, even if I am far from this mortal coil, my pigments stay fresh as long as you know blue, as long as you can hear me, read me, see me. I paint 6X8 cell and we are imprisoned together, trapped, til I tell you of the key I slipped into your shoe. I love the flow of watercolor, adore the mushy paste of oil, but nothing beats the world we paint and repaint here on this page. Explain why frogs don’t have wings * GAME PLAYING My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game. Doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy. My trouble is my own. I pursue trivia at my discretion. I take or reject risk at will. I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes . But don’t expect to live in a candy land. When I stick my hand in a mouse trap Or fall down shoots and need to climb up ladders. I know the game may not be over But it is far too late to play let’s make a deal. |
July 23
Before Ophelia Young women drown themselves before Shakespeare immortalized, memorialized Ophelia. But having a poster child changes us. Cautionary tale or rallying cry, Ophelia is a hand to hold on dark cold days when the light is hard to find and everything seems bent toward destruction. Not that I think she solved anything with her despondent act just that she stands in the familiar frame I find myself in from time to time. When I imagine I’ve invented the wheel it makes it harder to step down and walk. Ophelia’s fate makes it easier to get off depression’s bus and find my way back home. Press your excuses for truth * TOOTH FAIRY I slide my hand under the pillow And am disappointed not to find a quarter. I feel I deserve one though I didn’t leave a tooth. I did leave my bite, I’ve toned down my bark a bit too. It has not been easy. I’ve spent much of my life snapping and growling At the world around me. I have shortened the leash on these reactive behaviors Many I have put to bed all together. Improved conduct is prize enough But I surely would enjoy a winged visitor If only just for fun. |
July 24
Speak! Are there songs a bird must not sing while communing with the flock? Do fish learn to restrain their expressions while schooling? Or are we the only animal versed in the language of taboo? I wonder when I hear the cows lowing in the night are they giving whispered voice to things they longed to moo about all day. I know what to keep inside, things too flamboyant for out of doors. I understand to keep body and soul together I must keep down and hush, but when I complain to my pup does she comprehend or is it just blah, blah, blah; in her world of speak maybe it is like it is? If your pallet is limited broaden your ideas * SHARING Please take a bite of my PB&J, I made it myself, it is fine as it is I slathered the bread and cut it neatly Still I can’t help but want to offer some to you. I know to stand and smile next to you Watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth Have you dab jelly from the corner of my lips Will make this sandwich even better. You bring so much to this meal Something bright and clever --you bring you. I can pull things together and set it all up But somehow my creation is never quite complete Until I share it with you. |
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The world is in such a violent spin right now, I am glad for this place of respite. and to drink, for today it is Almond Milk. As always, thanks for keeping the lights on. :moonstars: Tommi |
July 25
Dear G-d I need help. I need help availing myself of the help you have provided me. I am embarrassed to lack the ability to complete all the steps necessary for achieving the goals you have set before me. I see now that it is always my turn with you and I can stop standing aside believing that I have had your attention and must now do without. I do not want to ask for more; I don’t want to seem greedy. I forget that you know my heart and that you trust me. I am going to make that a two-way street, maybe a four-lane highway. I need help, thank you for being help full. Love, Sherrie The obvious is sometimes invisible * ACCESS Writing to you my Sweet, Allows me to give what I have available At the moment it comes into my possession. You reading lets you invite me in, When you are ready or willing Possibly both. I can store succulent treasure for you Without the least consideration of Freezer burn or apathy. You are here when I want you, Yearning and prepared I am yours for the taking In the classroom, the bedroom Or even in your bath I can whisper or shout to you. I can rant or tell jokes to you You can embrace or ignore me Introduce me to your friends Or keep me your own personal province. We are intimates Because I bare my soul to you And you take me into yours. |
July 26
Keds If I gave a child a pair of sneakers would I refuse to help them to tie them on? Would I want this kid to wear them open, tongues hanging out, laces dangling and dangerous? Or worse would I want the child to have to lug the sneakers around; the kid feeling the need to treasure the gift and protect it from use or wear? I hope that I would not be this sick, misguided or deranged. I have to say that I have given up believing in a crazy G-d but this doesn’t mean that I can’t drive G-d crazy with my insane behavior. I have to stick my feet inside my shoes and lift my foot for help and open my mouth to ask, then pay close attention so I can learn to do it on my own; all the while not beating myself up that I can’t do it already. Treat adventure as a requirement for life * STUBBORN When the donkey won’t move forward It’s time to stop running No need to make an ass of myself Through force or coercion. The dumb animal may be mute but its actions speak. Reluctance is a warning. If my animal nature is balking Listening not shoving in the preferred course. Super intelligence can’t best good horse sense. I must stand with my intuition That creature depends on my survival for life. |
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July 27
Un-imbedded This week I have decided to be braver about where I invest my time, not all of it mind you but a portion of my diligent yet strangely unproductive time. I have to say I am realizing that I hide in pretty much every area of my life and that is no way to live and a really bad example to offer. The worst thing about hiding is it doesn't keep me safe; it just subjects me to different evils. It reminds me of that poor reporter who was imbedded in a tank and he died from not moving and his blood pooling and dehydration, so the tank kept him from getting his head shot off, but killed him in a different way, so in the end he wasn't safe and neither am I. I believe in prudence as a good policy, I do, but there is much that could make me stronger, happier, better, if I lift my head a bit and reach out my hand. Defrost things which freeze you in place * ALICE Because I even wore out my welcome at the Mad Hatters house, I can sit on my hands at my sponsors table And listen, listen, listen. If I had been able to make a place for myself with the looking glass folk I could never let myself loose my eccentricities And join in the fellowship. Going down further than a rabbit hole I lost my need to chase or scramble after bunnies For time or card tricks. No more illusions for me. I am awake and shaded by the tree of AA branching over me Sisters I didn’t know take my hand. |
July 28
Clap I know how to put my hands together, but I am unable to clap. It’s not that my palms can’t locate each other; it’s that I cannot find the beat. I sing; lilting rhythms rolling from my tongue. I keep time and drum the tattoo of jingle dress dance songs, but when my hand comes against its mate something is off. Faltering nuance plays havoc with my exuberant desire. I want to join the crowd in syncopated applause, yet my brain drops out. Because the gap is too far to leap I must walk around to the other side and by then I’ve lost the moment, the world has moved on without me. I used to think I needed to run my routine a little faster, but now I realize I need to learn to leap the gap and trust the beat to find me. Engender your actions with optimism * PRESTO Just because I own pointy boots Doesn’t mean I can corral the cows. I have in my possession many things Of subtle intent but they can’t transform me. The wings from Halloween don’t make me an angel. The Big Book on the shelf won’t sober me up. Nothing holds the magic to change me. I can only change with help. Action, action and more action Is the magician’s slide of hand. It slides my hand from glass to grace I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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 |
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. |
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. |
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. |
August 5
What are We Fighting For Instead of competition for dominance we would benefit from cooperation for survival. The struggle to become the very best destroyers in the world very well might make us postmortem champions. Why is it that the lions don’t work to eradiate hyenas? They could, but they don’t. Why not, is the ever present question on my mind. I have no answer as to why we strive to conquer. A thousand platitudes come to my head, but nothing fast or tight, nothing that holds water. So, the question remains; why are we hell bent? Welcome help * MY TALE I must be my own tattletale. I must give my sponsor bullets to shoot down my disease Anything I nurture and protect will grow and take me over. It is up to me to choose if I will feed my ailment or my health My life will be consumed that is a guarantee, All things feed into others. The direction this meal takes is my daily decision. The bull’s eye can be hit if I describe the target. The ending will be happy if the story I tell is my own. |
August 6
I didn’t mean to make you laugh You think I’m witty, well, yes, I have always been like this, no one knew quite what to do with me as a small child, but I have grown into this acumen, or possibly grown out into it is closer to accurate. I was dark witted when I was young, I think of myself as less so now, optimism is a blessing I have gained through the years, it feels good and I keep it close. I need to be a blithe spirit to travel the road I do. Tears have their place, I know that for sure, but I rather not go around with a puss on all day and all night. Additionally it is so much about perspective; you see, the honey makes the peas taste funny but at least now they stick to my knife. Assign colors to numbers * I AM I am my own hope. The spring of willingness flows within me And makes everything possible. I am my own dream. Colors and sprinkles fly in my mind And mix with a sprite’s laugh And make me enchanted. I am my own joy. Filled with wonder and delight, My quick turns and ready mind warm My heart and pink my checks. I am my own prize. New and exciting everyday That I am myself, I win. |
August 7
I Beg The embarrassment of need is a haunting guest who will not leave. I turn in a tight circle trying to find a way to detach this wart and move gracefully from the site of devastation, but it looms large and overshadows today’s possibilities and robs tomorrows gold. What I cannot do for myself, the magic I cannot yet perform, stands between me and contentment, stands there wearing your face; touching my mind with your fingertips. I pray that you are not the answer for I cannot depend on you, but I think of you and the little bell rings and I am hungry. Desire is a gift. Desiring you is the burden whose shadow I can’t escape. I close my eyes to the light you emit; I cannot close my heart. All that’s left is pleading; please come home and fill me or leave and lock the door and let me grieve in peace. Treat your health like your job, treat your health like your investment, treat your health like your life; it is * ROCK BOTTOM PRICES Marble topped dressers, dry sinks and wardrobes, Stand in the auctioneer’s warehouse Showing loving use and obvious value. The hungry consumers peruse the merchandise Looking for the perfect pieces To fit their need. Old men eating ice cream sandwiches pick their way through The rows of tidbits laid out on the lawn, Bargains to fill odd spaces and little desires. So like out meeting places, people trying to refurnish their lives. The cost to arrive may have been high But once in, the market is more than fair. We reclaim relics and we use them as road signs and warnings. There is always someone around to carry large truths home And no one has to go away empty handed. We bid on our own survival by buying someone else a break. Time passes easily as the one at the podium Recounts the rock bottom prices. |
August 8
Stand Hear The spins and pirouettes I have preformed in an attempt to avoid facing the music, were impressive but futile and ultimately delayed the beauty possible for me in this life. When I stop my running and turn on my heel there is a world of harmony waiting to take me for a turn out on the dance floor. Melody is not what I was expecting. I was so sure I would be drummed out of my life, not trumpeted in. My surety set in motion much of my convoluted activity and caused me great distress. It is high time I listen with eyes open and my reactions leashed; allowing the tune to introduce me to life and lead me to my bliss. Let bad habits run away from home; pack their bags when you can * DON’T BE Don’t be stupid. Don’t be crazy. Don’t be anything out of the ordinary. Don’t be angry. Don’t be hateful. Just don’t be that way. Don’t be sad. Don’t be mopy Smile fore the camera and pretend for everyone. I often wondered why I felt like dyeing And it took me years to understand why, Don’t be, equals = Death. Don’t feel. Don’t cry. Don’t love . Life is about action, presence and content. You’re wrong if you break the rules And dead if you keep them. So please don’t be Them. Look back when you have to But step out of the grave. |
August 9
Pick up Your Hammer and Saw The task infers the tool. I know this, yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity. I look into the well of my despair then quickly I look away, I fear informing G-d what I need lest the need be filled. I need to believe that a power will heal me, but if I am provided with the force of life, I shrink from the prospect. This too, must be added to the list of my emotional woes and mental shortages. This too, will be healed. I look at my problems and then realize, that like the moon, who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore, solutions are installed in heaven and earth if I know what the problem is. Experiment, start living a dream * COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS Closer than comfort is willingness. Comfort is at the skin But willingness is under it. I can live without comfort But not without willingness Both are unseen but felt deeply. Willingness drives to the destination And comfort settles me in once there. Comfort is a gift like warmth, Willingness is a gift like breath. I have been tempted to let go of willingness To hold onto comfort. True willingness brings true comfort Never the other way around. No matter where I have to go Willingness will take me there, I hope comfort will follow. |
August 10
Michal Rovner I have numbered all the blocks in my ancestral walls. This has enabled me to recreate them stone by stone everywhere I go. It all fits to create the tomb I now have to learn to leave. I must change the equation and reorder the numbers allowing these rocks to be recycled and find a wonderful useful life as a stairway out of this pit of despair. What was once an edifice to lives unlived is now able to facilitate elevation, a restoration of a level playing field. It was not wrong for me to catalog the stones and there was no way for me to leave them behind, but nothing matches the satisfaction of using them to build a life, except for the ability to live in it. Take a look at yourself from a distance * THE SEDUCTION OF SOBRIETY I was seduced away from my duties As an alcoholic by the promise of sobriety, Allegiance to my disease was sidelined. Alluring stability and beguiling integrity Curried favor with my desperate heart, Pulling me from the arranged marriage of addiction. How could I cling to the corpse of dependence When sanity shimmered just out of reach, Then not out of reach but within my grasp. I couldn’t resist the golden flicker of life. I had been bound to death Unable to see an alternative. My loyalty to loss and grief slipped from me And I limped into the daylight, Like the widow of the night. I have been lured to my senses By a love like no other, The love of life. |
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