Day 4 is always a BIG day, expect great things!!! If not on day 4 then definitely on day 5!!! Hang in there, my friend!

February 3

AND THIS IS FOR WHAT?




I smiled down on God and said, “This is pretty and what is it for?”
“Oh, that’s your life. It is a surprisingly useful thing to have.” My Higher Power, like my sponsor, thinks she is funny but she is not.
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Who do you think I am, your mother, your Grandpa Joe, your guidance counselor? I put all the possibilities in you then I let the wind blow. What would be the fun of coming here if I gave it to you all mapped out? Did it occur to you the reason people say ‘you are right where you are supposed to be’ is because you did the things that brought you here, not Me, and if you don’t like it here you are the one who needs the motivation to change it.”
“Take my life............Please.”
“You are such a comedian!”
“No, that’s your department, and could you stop tending your garden for five minutes and give me your attention?”
“I don’t need to give you that kind of attention. You bloom on your own.”

Age with curiosity.

*
The Inside Half


I have drunk deeply from the glass set before me.
I’m not entirely sure that I am half way through,
but I am into it a goodly bit.

I would be happy to have another 19 years;
nineteen more hours would be a gift, too.
That glass might be half empty
but I am at least half full and I am amazed!

I am regularly stunned by the prodigies
this half trek has born to term;
equally dazzled by how quickly the generations
compound in this painstaking construction.

Development both internal and assembled
surpasses my wildest imaginings.
Amazement is my most constant companion,
more than gratitude

and as of late even outstripping willingness
my most trusted ally.
Shock has been replace by wonder,
bewilderment with surprise,

I am fortified with these feeling realities
and look happily to finishing the rest
of what is in that glass.

February 4

HOW LIKE THE MOON



I show the shining, bright face to the world but can not enumerate the dark. I change and turn for all to see, glowing sliver to full fledged smile. I inventory all phases, can tell you from wax to wane, but the darkness, the anchor to my lonely life, I can only guess. I feel my way across the unknown topography, searching with fingertips and faith to find the secrets of this magic nightmare. And what? What is the thing to break it? Hope? Reverence? A detailed map? Or is the darkness just a fact? Part of the big equation, the equalizer of the light? If this is so, how best to live with it? Continue the search or post barriers? Go ever forward, looking for an answer? Endear myself to the void?
The choices are always mine. The way, seldom clear.


Breathe with power.

*

Today’s Math


Today is 12/06/06 this is an equation to me,
12 = 6 + 6, simple.
Not everything is, but math always works for me.
My Higher Power is math based
and one of my major decision making tools
is to run the equation of the presenting situation.

There are many constants in my life
and those numbers are easier to calculate
the variables often prove more difficult.
Scalable problems allow for my Geometry.
Proofs are a comfort when I can get them.
Set Theory is what I settle for when I can’t.

I try to show all my work
and have others check my calculations.
I can’t tell you how often a simple error
in addition or subtraction has fouled my whole equation
not to mention my equilibrium.

In conclusion I would like to say it is now 12= 9 + 6
and somehow I’ve lost three days, or did I gain them?
See how tricky the signs are.

Incubus, tie a knot in it and hold on tight. Although you are in a tough place right now, you can do it. I promise you it will get better. If you need to talk, PM me and I will give you my cell phone number.

Best wishes.
Brock

February 5


THE FORGOTTEN


"I am not Cleopatra; I am not in denial. I forgot."
“Sure,” says my sponsor, “I’ve seen the headdress.”
"That’s not fair! I’ve heard women say they forget the pain of childbirth."
“They’re kidding. You can’t just forget pain. It’s there waiting in the wings, looking for its fifteen minutes of fame.”
"And what if I don’t give pain its fifteen minutes?"
“You will be the worse for it,” she says with her smug way.
"What if I can’t drag it forward?"
“Honey, Baby, Sweetie, you need to let those things come up before they drag you back to a drink or whatever your new addiction of choice is. Just open your mind. You might be surprised what is waiting to see the light of day.”
"What if it kills me?"
“Darling you’re not that lucky. You don’t get to escape through death, either. Lean into this and you will get through it faster. Hold on to the program and you will get through it easier. Fight it and it will tear you up.”
Always the optimist, my sponsor.




Dispel assumptions, inhale willingness.
*



What is “offender” number 2?

I’m not looking for trouble, really I’m not,
it’s just that thanks to this program
I’m no longer plagued by resentment,
but I doubt that is the only stumbling block there is.

Possibly the remaining list is as divergent
as the alcoholics who make the lists.
Though I am guessing we have more in common
than that one thing.

I stare at the various and sundry bric-a-brac
measuring potential harm and formidability,
so many candidates with razor edges.

I take my combat pose as I lift the pen,
wondering if giving things status also gives them power.
I take comfort that acknowledgement is empowering for me.

Tell me the weights you lift
to strengthen your “Spiritual Muscle”
the things that crowd behind resentment
vying for their turn as perpetrator of downfall and misery.

February 6

THE THRONG


The more people I meet, the more vehemently I do not believe in God. The tidal wave of human ignorance hits me and the sheer and repetitive force of it is more than my single souled craft can bear. Cyclical, coincidental tragedy coupled with purposeful meanness, barbed with arrogance and misaligned fear hold my child's faith under a scalding bath of realism. What to do? I do not know.
The fragility and perniciousness of life war with each other, though loss wins out. What can I use to keep myself from withdrawal into despondent hibernation? Looking for glimmers of goodness in the sea of overwhelming depravity is not cutting it with me. Mystery as an explanation is not working either. I am not a retarded five-year-old; I am a despairing thirty-eight-year-old and I am tired of game-playing and coyness. I want a God to arrive, not with explanations, but solutions. I am not looking for a punishing parent to send errant persons to bed without supper. I am looking for the equation of repair, the dance steps to healing. I am yearning for a global twelfth step, a universal attunement and galactic spiritual awakening. And by the way, I want it now.

If you can’t write, sing.

*

More Than Less



There is a difference between
doing G-d’s will and winning,
though sometimes they look the same.

Skin deep appearance or monetary prowess
share no border with the will of G-d,
but these can stack as transparencies
seeming invisible to the uninitiated practitioner.

The organs exist and blood flows in the living thing
and the shell is hard, lifeless; though it glints.
Success can be the mantel of right compliance
or the shroud of something deadly.

I mustn’t be pushed or pulled by the desire
of accolades or acceptance,
nor shall I flee into a trap for fear of ridicule or rejection.

The lacerations of emotional infliction,
unloving judgments and imprudent fallout
cause me to flinch in the face of changing focus
and relinquishing hope of control.

I am powerless over everything and responsible to everything.
Anything else is incidental
and with loving help will work out if I do not panic.

Ah, to love myself as G-d loves me.

Incubus, I'm pulling for you. Keep the main thing, the main thing. By all means, do see a doctor.

Baby steps, baby steps. Take care not to place yourself in a stressful situation - you are fragile right now with vulnerable emotions. Hope you are hanging with others in recovery. For me, when I got to feeling better physically and fell back in with a using/drinking buddy or six, my lying mind would tell me, "oh, that physical sickness was not so bad" ... then I'd be "coming to" ... wondering how I could have let it happen again ... but still continued cycling through it over and over. Incubus, the recovery people told me at a meeting that I would not ever have to feel so sick again from deliberate ingestion of mood altering substances ... if I didn't want to because I now had a choice if I hung with them and did what they did. I hated, purely hated things they said to me in the beginning but they were right. That is how it was for me.

I sure hope you make good choices for you. I'll check back to see how you are doing.

February 7

THE SEAMLESS DOOR


Tongue and groove fit tight; the pickled boards do not belie the passage. Hinges buried deep, secreted inside the place with no words, the door remains shut, hidden. The air, candy sweet, the space, filled with the unbroken stream of surreal childhood. What can I tell you of this living snapshot? Nothing but the haltings, stops and shudders of a life encapsulated. Proudly, I walk from this train wreck only to find the tether stitched to my heart, my soul, my mind. Flashing through the room, I weary and wonder. I have often found myself outside this confusing destination, but never have I seen the door. Always, I believe, this time I am free of it. When I find myself again within this realm, I know it is something I can not be parted from.
Then what of the door? The undetected portal was spied by me one day while it swung in the breeze. I saw the simple barn and the open loft door; I never thought my incubus to be housed in so plain a construction. There the turmoil of my forward motion stored in the attic of the pony shed. So many tragic contrivances are stored in such candid spots. Accessibility is the beginning of approach; I take the stairs.

Remember willingness doesn’t need to float; it swims

*
Two Powers



The river and the bridge;
one force swift and roiling
the other stolid and stoic,

The first carries me away
and the other carries me over.
For the love of liquid, current and life
I have slipped in to the water
and washed; my life abandoned.

For love of upright contact,
terra bound movement and love
I cross the bridge.

Will I be deposited in the Ocean
or wend to the City and back?
Where is the greater power
in Surrender or Choice?

Thanks so much for sharing your experience Brock...yes it sure is baby steps, vulnerability and high emotion.

Sadly, I have to admit I've done these baby steps before. Once ago, a very long time ago in another lifetime I was at this very point. If I hadn't made a conscious decision to start drinking alcohol again after 16/17 yrs sobriety I would be celebrating my 26th sober anniversary this year. Alas that is not to be.

I remember quite a bit. Some of the steps, especially the first one is stuck in my mind at the moment as well as the serenity prayer. I still even have a copy of the 'The Big Book' and other such publications somewhere. I am however not being complacent about having a little background knowledge. Nothing substitutes for fellowship with other sober folks, meetings and other opportunities we can take to continue our healing. Right now I'm aiming to be getting acupuncture which is available for free Mon-Thurs at the local ADS (alcohol dependency services) and on Thursday am attending a way meeting with my detox nurse and the Blackpool Alcohol Team who have various channels of help that I may be able to avail myself of. I also have a list of the local meetings on my living room door. I'm lucky there is a Friends Meeting House very locally which hosts quite a number of meetings both in the day and some evening ones.

I am not totally hanging with sober folks as my long term friends aren't. I did the same when I gave up smoking too though. All my friends are very supportive of my decision to quit.

Day 8 and I'm feeling clearer headed than I have in a long time. I'm dog tired though; my sleep pattern is all over the place - I'm man-0-pausally insomniac anyway but I'm sure that it will settle down some.

Feather by feather the phoenix shall arise!

:hanging:

February 8

ACCIDENT OF BIRTH



We are here together, born the millstones about one another’s necks. Parentage equates to persuasion and I hold these strangers to my breast. Minds having chosen, violent turns skew off radar’s blip. I am held by guilt’s tight sutures to this motley mass. I long for the freedom of birds to fly far from my nest mates. Possessing sense enough not to neighbor with owners of my same genetic skin, I dream to be a turtle of the sea and meet each other in neutral waterways, friends for seasons of choice, far from the family shore. Accidents brought us together. Let kindness emancipate us.


Test your mind with poetry.

*


From Pen to Progress



“Leave those gaters in the paddock
awhile longer,” said my sponsor.
I gave a little better than a cursory glance
at the hulking forms
though I did stay strictly on my side of the fence
and grasped tighter the hand of my custodian.

The onceover, worked fine as my first pass through
the creatures of the swamp,
I didn’t fully grasp what lay beyond the petting zoo,
but given my newness this wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

On second run I was in a boat
with a glass bottom and a guide, I had vision, clarity.
Third time through was a charm,
swim fins and a rope tied about my waist,
it was all too real.

I floundered and had to be hauled bodily
by my home group, my sponsor stood anchor.
I have numbered and charted these murky waters now
and I see the lure they have for my ailing, twisted mind;

The intensity of the brutes awash
and the dark calling to dark
makes that sick sense that only an alcoholic can parse.

I have to take to those byways
with supplies and reinforcements.
Never swim alone!

February 9

READY



Ready or not here it comes: life on terms of its own. Bracing for the onslaught of gravity I grip too well the implements of past days. Fearing the pressure, I lay in my shallow grave, the ground having been scooped out by hand. Withering from expectation, my blood runs slow and dark, reducing to coagulated futility, losing my life in anticipation of death. Attempts at being less as means of protection fail. Less is not a solution; fading does not make life more livable. It makes me unavailable. Readiness is my responsibility; it is momentary. Momentary is sufficient. Sobriety is nothing more than lining myself up with the needs of this instant. I need go no further. Whole solutions, not my department. Showing up, dressed and washed, ball and bat in hand if possible, but just making it to the lineup is my full time job. Even if I never swing, it is still better than being buried in the field.


Put a joke in your pocket.
*
Simultaneous Acceptance



Being typical is a difficult thing to live with,
but I am typical.
Being extraordinary is a challenging thing
to live up to, but this is also mine to bear,
you see I am a typical alcoholic after all.

Walking with one foot in each camp is not enough.
I must simultaneously accept both
my common commonality
and my lottery winner uniqueness
If I am to travel hand in hand with my Higher Power.

If I don’t integrate this double reality,
allow it to imprint my thoughts
the way it is tattooed in my DNA
I can not possibly take the biggest step of all.

Drop my judgment of these things
so that humility can dwell within.
You see there is not enough room in the vortex
of my humanness to accommodate the jags of verdict

And the desire for the sublime smoothness of humility.
I can’t chase humility, I have had to face that,
but I can remove the impediments to its residence.

Yes, may the force be with you! I am so excited that you are accruing day and getting sleep. I hope the hoop jumping goes well and that you continue to have those sweet nights of sleep! Big hugs, Sherrie

February 10

FORGIVENESS



“Forgiveness is not something to force on people like unwanted coffee,” says my sponsor.
Everyone tells me forgive, forgive, forgive.
“These are the same folks who said, ‘stay and have another drink.’ It is only appropriate to forgive people who ask for forgiveness and show you with their behavior that they want it. It is never appropriate to shove forgiveness on people who haven’t asked, show no signs of wanting it, or demonstrate just the opposite.”
I thought forgiveness was to help me feel better.
“Letting go of resentments is to make you feel better. Making amends to the people you’ve hurt, and cleaning up your side of the street is to make you feel better. Keeping an open mind and heart will make you ready for the possibility of someone coming to make amends. Forgiveness is a two-way street; anything you have to throw over someone like a net is usually a mistake,” she says with a wink, and then she has the nerve to curtsy.



Design your dream tea.
*


Hospitality


What unites us, heals us, serves us,
is the hospitality of the program.
Fellowship encircles us and draws us close,
in a word unites us, hospitality is our core.

Hospital is the root of hospitality
and recovery is the route to health,
hospitality is the skeleton of recovery.

Hospitable aid,
the true gift of self is hospitality;
hospitality the master of A.A.

Hope you have a great meeting! Glad you're sleeping! Is school going well? I bet doing homework sober is going to be a kick!

February 11

UNIFIED THEORY




When I build the circuit correctly the light comes on. When I heal the shards together the bell rings. If I am meticulous and attentive, if the world is gracious and bares herself to my mind, I will see how everything fits. I know the reflexive nature of things, and the way life folds one thing inside the other. Whale song is a long slow underwater birdcall. Moon rise, sun rise, then the moon again. The universe works without my interference but also without my complete understanding. I am learning how to be a part of this beautiful maze; I long to comprehend it. The weeds are trying to take back the city. If I lay down maybe they will take me back, too. If I keep my eyes open I might see it all unfold. Conception without is my desire within.


Make emotional bouquets for your mind.
*


Recognition

All I have are these two hands
I can not lift the world
All I have are these two legs
I can not flee the hoards

All I have is this one heart
though need and want prevail
All that’s left is this one mind
to try to tell this tale.

Everything in this bright orb
is there for me to see
Everything laid out before me
all that I can be

Everything that I perceive as wrong
and know it in my heart
Everything I think to touch
and change believing it’s my art

Once I take the giant reins
acceptance escapes the scene
Once the fates are in my grasp
chaos is the theme

Once the sight of my right place
is lost from in my mind
Once I try to fill the great big shoes
is the day that I go blind.

February 12

MY TALE



I must be my own tattletale. I must give my sponsor bullets to shoot down my disease. Anything I protect and nurture will grow and overtake me. 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.


Calculate the risk and build a bridge.



*

Rebellion Dogs

“Rebellion dogs our every step at first”
AA’s 12 and 12

They won’t come to heal, won’t sit, won’t stay,
these dogs circle waiting for signs of weakness
or vulnerable skin, but there they are;
they have been found out.

The ones that worry me more
are those that took show and place,
the dogs that stand in the shadows and lurk in the wing.

What are their names I wonder?
Their distinctive smell?
Must I identify these writhing mutts
or simply call animal control?

Though this never worked with rebellion dogs
these lesser pups surely would run
from would be dog catchers and leave me to my dreams.

Alas, I name them and show them to my friends;
we like they run in packs
and are served well by honest disclosure.

Have you started to itch yet? I believe the feeling like crap and needing extra sleep is part of the healing process, but that doesn't make it feel any better. I sure hope this phase is short and you are feeling better soon! I know you don't eat sweets and I'm not suggestion that you start, but making unsugared undutched coco, kind of like black coffee, is a local cure around here suggested to newcomers, it might be worth a try.....let me know what you think. I hope today is better than yesterday, my friend! :praying:

Hey Incubus
 

So glad to read you went to meeting.

Your mind is probably still feeling fragmented. Since you have already been aquainted with meetings from your past, I feel certain you have heard what I am about to say ... Will say it anyway ... Try and focus on similarities and quit worrying about lack of modernization. HEH HEH! Alcoholism doesn't change. It's primary goal is to make our lives miserable and is overjoyed when it can bring death.

I have to tell you I chuckled a bit when I read your comment about "modern." I know you were being serious but it just struck me funny. I sat beside a woman tonight at our Women's meeting and she kept me going too. The things we come up with to say or notice can be quite entertaining at times. Go to meetings until you enjoy them. And then keep going. I was relieved to read you are surrounded by meetings. You know what you need to do.

It's the main thing.
Your friend,
Brock

February 13

NIGHT FLIGHT





The small log shape with large wings passed the windshield of my moving car without collision, due to meticulous calculation and correction in a night sky. Silent passage… swift and meaningful, the owl lives as it knows how. I was not born to the night, darkness not my given realm. I have inverted my senses and compensated for the moonlight. I pull my way through the air and hunt for my survival in a world of shadows. The morsels caught on the wing, snatches of conversations and lines from books, sustain me, give me strength to live in spite of the nocturnal bondage. I have made peace with the night. I am changed by my living and my living endures. The grace required to abide here is bestowed on me nightly. I wear it though it is not the prize I sought.


Write a letter home to you.

*
Whittle it Down


A famous sculptor mentioned
that he doesn’t so much create the objects
as remove the stone which doesn’t belong.

I have had the same experience with willingness.
Encased in the bedrock of my will
willingness had no opportunity to open doors.

Flaking away the extraneous
the key shape appears, rugged, blockish, rudimental.
As the tears stream down my face
and wrong thinking flies from my brain
the key is more finely formed.

As I wheedle at misconception
and haul bodily wrong action
the teeth of this thing show sharp in this day’s sun.

Many doors stand ajar,
at first those with basic tumblers,
but now even those with encrypted defense
are no match for the willingness,
which I wield with rapier wit.

The obvious blocks to progress open to me
as well as the subtle doors to untold destination,
I am let out of danger, released into possibility.

need to tell you again ...
 

Sherrie, you are such a gifted writer. You always amaze me and your dependability is good for me.

I love your February 12th post.

Incubus, I know exactly what you are talking about. It happens at times at every meeting. I will seek another meeting if the one I have chosen does not, for the most part, stay in the solution. Just don't let it drive you away.

Seek 12/12 (Step Meetings). Your sponsor will be kicking you into the steps along about now ... That will take your mind off these unsatisfactory meetings plus, the relief is in those steps. Try and focus on that until you can find a homegroup. Get involved and in the middle - you cannot fall off the edge if you are in the center of it because the people surrounding you will notice quicker when you need extra help and hold you up when necessary. They have done that for me. They will do it for you too. That is, to me, what it is all about. It's a "WE" program. We do not have to be alone.

February 14

TRAVELING PICTURES




I parked next to a beaten little import. The well of the passenger’s side was filled with empty sport-drink bottles and cans from soda. The dashboard was a shrine: three taped photographs, one of a young man and young woman, one of the young woman and an older woman, one of the young woman and an enormous marble statue. There were small carved objects affixed to the dash: jade and soapstone figures, beads and a feather. The sanctuary in my head is decked out in a similar manner. Post card pictures line my mind: people I love, trips I took, pets long gone. The road signs of my journey stand as exhibits of a tour of duty not always to my liking but nothing I would trade. I know clearly where I have been, and study the map to prepare for the future. Escapades and loved ones, trinkets strung on my lifeline give texture, flavor and flash to my pilgrimage.


Think of fish and dream of birds.



*
Progressive Fourth


All I can do is stand on the grass
and count the shutters, the windows, the doors.
At first I cannot approach to inspect any closer than that.

Time passes and the other steps work me.
I peer through the windows the next time
and count the stuffs I can glimpse through the glass.

I possess no periscopic vision,
but what is in plain sight I reckon.
Subsequently I wished to exteriorize
and draw the inventory of the house
out onto the lawn and tally there.

Wishing to avoid that interior life,
the poisoned vixen who haunted there.
Time passed and she recovered as did I,

Into the house I went.
I am now able not only to number my possessions
I can assess the flow and function,
work patterns, interplay, reliability.

I have now appraised not just the what,
but the how of my life
and progress into tomorrow.

Incubus
 

Here's my take, my opinion on your last post.

Incubus, it is great if you want to go to church, nothing in the world wrong with that. In addition, it is not a violation to do both church and recovery. Lots of people do it.

This part is how I see it. I need to be around others in recovery to get and stay "right-sized." Working steps with a sponsor, "cleaning house" ... Identifying both my good and unsavory characteristics ... Keep the good stuff about me, do amends except when harmful to others and continue to work to improve/correct those selfish behaviors I integrated into my personality as a selfish, egotistical drunk. That is what I became and I did not realize it. Church people are not wired the same as I am (at least the non-alcoholic ones) so hard as they try and with all the best intentions, they really don't know f*ck about what is wrong with me ... and therefore, are unable to help me.

I still behave inappropriately at times but overall, I am a great deal better than I was before a sponsor pointed out the glaring defects she noticed when we did step work. Oh, that was some tough love! I hated hearing all about that. I was many times genuinely pissed off about it. Today, that tough love helps me to grow, even when terribly painful. For this, I am eternally thankful.

Incubus, I have no idea. I only know what has worked and continues to work for me. Perhaps you will find a tough love person in church who will kick your seat hard enough to help you. I wish you the very best with that. Let me know how it works out for you.

Best wishes. Sending prayers to the Good Spirit that you make it!
Your friend,
Brock

In reading the last posts, I began to take a look at my spiritual life. I do use my bible, and I do use my Big Book. I went to my Big Book tonight. Came across something on page 28, third paragraph down. "We have no desire to convince anyone that there is only one way by which faith can be acquired. If what we have learned and felt and seen means anything at all, it means that all of us , whatever our race, creed, or color are the children of a living Creator with whom we may form a relationship upon simple and understandable terms as soon as we are willing and honest enough to try. Those having religious affiliations will find here nothing disturbing to their beliefs or ceremonies. There is no friction among us over such matters. We think it no concern of ours what religious bodies our members identify themselves with as individuals. This should be an entirely personal affair which each one decides for himself in the light of past associations, or his present choice. Not all of us join religious bodies, but most of us favor such memberships." Glad I ran across this. ....Prudence :yeahthat:

response to Prudence
 

Prudence, I am glad you ran across that reading ... and even more glad you took the time to come in here and share it with us. Thank you.

February 15

SHAME

I push shame around my plate like a chunk of spoiled meat, the toxins leaching to every interface and cavity. With an inverse half-life, the lethal substance grows, reinforcing, sending runners and tendrils to worlds known and those yet undiscovered. I wage my war on this shape-shifting plague. Thrust and parry, I step back from the insurmountable walls and set my sights on tearing down the bunkers in my personal city. Like lead plumbing, the danger eludes the observation of my fellow citizens. I am labeled a lunatic and no attention is paid to my evaluations of water quality. I search for similarly crazed friends, variants within a theme. I depend on the poisoned sanity of my wounded compatriots. We shovel the plate loads of spoiled meat and detritus. The foreshortened mountain of shame allows tiny strands of light to glimmer across the surface but the shamed devotees turn their heads. We, the few, face this glowering mass. I worry like a petulant child. What if we can not prevail? Is shame stronger than recovery? Have we traveled this far to miss the glacier’s edge as it slides away from us? I console myself with the sure knowledge: this life of sobriety is better than any other offering. Healing the world, what a lovely thought. Living free from shame today, what a necessity.

Crumple a sacred cow then iron it flat.
*

ONE


One skin, One mind, One spirit, One day

If I live in more than my own skin,
I am a body snatcher and ghoul.
If I live in a duality of thought I am ejected,
ostensibly out of my mind.

If I redouble my spirit
the increase takes a dark cold turn
and I am lost.

If I try to live two days at a time
the sand shifts in the glass
and I am worse off in that hour than Dorothy.

This skin is all I can be in,
as many times as I walk in someone else’s shoes
it’s the skin I’m in.

This mind is my only bequest,
treasure enough to earn my keep.
Free as this spirit is it is still tied at the heel
and like my shadow it remains.

And today is the only day where the magic works,
witches melt and clicking my heels gets my attention
even if it doesn’t always take me home.

This is an off subject (sorta) and a "general" type post.

I woke up this morning and was a little bit confused. I came here and am no longer confused after rereading the title of this thread ... which is "Friends of Bill W."

"Friends of Bill W." is synonymous with "AA 12 STEP"

*chuckling to self*
Glad it was so easy for me to end my confusion. Wish it could always be that simple.

Hope everyone has a fantastic day!
Best Wishes!
:)
Brock

quick intor
 

Hello Just wanted to post a quick intro to this thread,
I have been clean & sober for close to 21 years now When I first got clean & sober it was difficult to stay clean and did attend about 2-4 meetings a day I also worked in the gay AA club in San Diego so was around sober people all the time that first year. I still use those tools are learned all those years ago however I dont go to many meetings these days.
I will be getting to some in the states when I get back!

February 16

THE DEALS I’VE MADE


Because they are deals and not resentments or secrets, these circular schemes did not come out in my fourth step. They didn’t come out in the wash; they come out whenever they are broken. If the deal is don’t eat pickled herring and you won’t have to remember X, the deal will get broken when pickled herring is served to me at some social gathering. As I get healthier, the breaks connect ever more deeply. What in early sobriety would have given me unexplained discomfort now gives me full-blown flashbacks. And I watch the deal unravel… you weren’t supposed to eat this because this is what was on the plate when… but now that it’s on the plate here, now you have to face this ugly roiling mess. The deals saved my life, but unless they are handled with care and honesty, they can cost me the life I have now. I must choose a safe person and place to share these broken shards, living alone with this will not work and making it public fodder is a set up as well. In every one of these deals there is a back door to a drink and therefore We have to go out the front door together.

Pick three color words and use them all day.


*
The Long Dark Ride


Are fear and ignorance one thing
that looks like itself
or terrifying twins who feed one another?

Can they be separated
and if they can will it kill them?
And if they die
what will spring from their remains?

Will it be better or worse?
Can I tell what better is?
Should I tell if it turns out to be worse?

Is there ever an end to either fear or ignorance?
If there is, how deep is that well
and will I survive a trip to the bottom?

Do you know and do you care?
Will you go with me if I find the way?
Will you take me if you find it first?