Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 20



Dewy, Cheatum & Howe


I must radically sever the close connection I have with self-seeking, self-pity and dishonesty. What will I use to pay the retainer for the representation I will need to pursue this divorce? Willingness is the earnest money, which will start the ball rolling, hard work pitches in its share and faith pays the note each day I apply it. All this and more is what it takes to divide the endless stream of my compulsive thought into a survivable days worth of life. I have the prospect of being happy as a divorcee or I could be a miserable widow if I stay wed to my disease.





Try not to be the exception to everything

*

PROMISE BROKEN

If promise shatters without anyone touching it,
If it pops like a floating soap bubble that lost it cohesion,
What do I do--name names--I can’t even take fingerprints.

Sometimes dreams just end--no fault or blame is attached.
The ice breaks under it’s own weight
And nothing can be done.

I am more than just holding on.
I am alive even if all the promises melt away.
I can accept the unexpected and unasked for.

I know this doesn’t affect my worth.
My value is intact regardless of disappointment or discontent.
I have learned that anticipation is mere amusement.
Promises are pleasantries
.
I am made of stronger stuff.
I am not broken by words, ideas or hope.
Promise can be broken
But it doesn’t break me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 21



Hang on or Dance


Because I felt ‘outcomes’ slipping through my fingertips I dug in with my nails, I schemed, plotted, worried, whined. Lack of power was my problem I thought, but what it came down to was, failure to acknowledge… accept… failure to surrender to the reality of powerlessness. The only thing I learned from resistance was an intimate knowledge of futility. When I embraced truth… the facts…when I live with the gravity of masses not fight against it; I began to enjoy the weather, knowing I did not pull the clouds or push the storm. I’m back in the dance of people moving about me, all keeping with the time, it is not mine to keep.




Befriend science

*

CHANNELING

It’s a full feeling to be a channel.
Only an empty feeling when it’s blocked
At the base of my spine
And God can’t go to my head.

The river flows through me and my banks will hold
Excuses dam me up
And leave a dry and lifeless basin
With tributaries taxed for usefulness.

Staying in the groove conveys my Higher Powers will
Without need of my furrowed brow.
A hose with no water running
Is a place for spiders to spin.

If I shut off the service I am a breeding ground
For creeping sadness and shocking misery
Compliance allow me the view
Of flowing strength and rushing joy
The greatest of which is living with intent.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 22



Up to Date

The future is a prison I escape by staying in today. The tiny windows which open to strange foreknowledge have barbs rather than bars and inflict painful wounds when I attempt too close examination. My business is here and now; the currency like manna, good only for the duration of the day and nothing further. Pretty dreams and colossal disaster float as baubles on the horizon but I need to take down my focus from such far off vistas; adjusting the optics for a clear view of where I am standing. Circumscription is what the destiny becomes when I try to live in it too soon. Novelty is what it is to be living in the very moment I am currently breathing in.





Find ways to embrace the random nature of life

*

ORIGAMI

I fold my reality like origami
Everyday a shape to suit my whim.

A dog when I feel like begging.
A horse when I want to trot away.
A pot to brew up some potion.

A penguin when I feel cold
And I stand on my egg all day.

I can bend and flex, change my image
But in the end I am truly flat and lifeless
A construct of imagination but soulless and boring.

Reality cannot be my creation,
Made in accordion of my mind.

Truth and breath come like wind
And I need to let them change direction
And change me too.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 23




Carrion


The trouble with not burying my dead issues is that in very short order they begin to smell and not, too long after that they start to attract vultures. Alternately when I am able to drain all the juice out of these botherations and they become freeze-dried decorations like Roy Rodger’s Trigger, I find that I can still climb aboard but they just don’t take me anywhere. I have found, just for me that I prefer visiting the grave of a past problem far better than having to live with its corpse, but then I am funny like that. I have never been one for hanging on to crucifixion, other’s or my own.







Don’t wait for the bell of courage to sound, go ring it yourself


*

THE CALL

Within the sound of your voice
I sing.
In the beat of your heart
I heal.

I feel in your touch
And dance when your toe starts to tap.
I see myself in your beauty
And warm inside your embrace.

Your thoughts are my inspiration.
Your lungs breathe me in and blow me out.
I soar in your flight
And dream in your waking.

I ring in your ears
Fall with your tears.
I’m lost in you
And found in you.

I travel and lounge in you
I share all your rantings and hide in your secrets
You hear and caress me, my darling
You know who I am.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 24



Just Say NO to Bushel Baskets


Spending my life under a bushel basket kept me from realizing who I am. I thought because of the close quarters I knew myself better than those free to explore the world, yet, alas, no. I am unaware of the world outside and inside the bin; this woven covering served to sever all true communications. Even in places where my candle burned through, it couldn’t allow sufficient light, in or out, for as much as an SOS or a night light. Here I am, not knowing my abilities… my possibilities…. or my worth and there is the world, standing a startled stranger from me, for I only know it as the circle around my feet and nothing more.






Manipulate your mind until it is supple and flexible


*

HARD TIMES

Sometimes I pack the earth down so hard
that weeds can’t even grow up through.
I try to make nature inert.
I try to kill my alcoholism.

I confine my disease to this tiny path of compacted dirt
and wear blinders as to ward off distractions.
I forget there is a garden to be grown
in the fertile ground of my recovering mind.

Losing the compulsion to drink is a gift.
Stopping my mind from thinking is soul murder.
I can sink my toes in the good brown soil
and look to the lilies and Queen Ann’s Lace for inspiration
.
I can stop giving myself such a hard time.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 25




Echidna’s Child



The difference between perplexed paranoia and procrastination is sometimes a subtle distinction. The confusion which swirls, confounding me along my trudge, gets the name of procrastinator. I am not at all sure I should continue to call it by that name. I believe that quite possibly I am an internal chimera, a blend of creatures, both mythic and fantastic, striving to live as one functioning specter, in a world too hard for a disparate visage as myself. When I am most myself, when the goal is pure and true, I work with a will. When I am making deadly compromise and risking my soul for social ease or the approval of the keepers, my dragon heart rebels and I am struggling against the fire in my stomach and fear screaming in my head. I don’t know how to eliminate the conflict, but for now I will attempt to stop calling myself names.




Beware of hopelessness it has a big imagination
*

WATERLINE

The interface of water and land is compelling.
Soothing but dramatic I’m drawn to this transition.
I stand and watch the lap, lap, lapping of the liquid to the land.

The gift of one place to another calls me.
Change and transition exhilarate my senses.
Whether it is rock or sand, river or sea,
I feel the pull to watch life in response.

Boundaries are beautiful.
Borders allow safety and recreation not just risk.
When I embrace this in life I embrace it in me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 26




Make Use of Brown Soap


When I have death in my pocket it makes it easy to cross the street without a glance. A little arsenic in my in my veins allows me to swallow the rest with no thought beyond want. Twist the screws tight enough in my brain and no other pressure seems problematic. All of the trouble in the world can beat a path to my door when I carry within me the seeds of destruction. I have to check myself for stow-away devastation. Ruin begins in tiny droplets but will wash me down the drain if not wiped immediately from my skin. Vigilant acknowledgement of the power of small burdens protects me from the mind blown ravages of the ensuing cyclone. Microbes cause mayhem, so I must watch where I touch and wash before I eat.






Don’t keep your windows shuttered; don’t keep your eyes closed

*

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 complete understanding.
I am learning how to be a part of a 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.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 27




Burning with Desire


You cannot stop the flames from licking me by telling me I am not on fire. For some reason you do not perceive the flames; you do not know fire. I cradle the desperate hope that you will recognize the ashes when the burn is done. By then it is too late for rescue, but the field is then wide open for regret. Resplendent is what I thought I was before the fire broke out. Now I feel like a misunderstood mansion torched to make way for a Walmart.




Dream your own dreams


*

FUNK & WAGNALL’S BACK PORCH

Bottoms come sealed in envelopes
From unknown accountants.
Amazing how many nominees and how few winners.
The audience filled with past recipients
Hold their collective breaths.

They pray for this years finalist
And pray a bigger prayer
Of thanks to this years donors,
The ones who prove with their lives
That it hasn’t gotten better out there.

The speeches are the same.
A gratitude list and maybe a punch line.
The smiles and tears fresh but familiar.

When the lights go out on this night,
The days of diligence begin once again
So no one need loose their seat
And we can all celebrate here next year together.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 28





Defining the Indefinable

What is Alcoholism? What is a Hurricane? What is a Cataclysm? I know I look for the root cause, look to predict the outcome, look to prevention and preservation of this thing which comes pouring from the four winds to land in my dooryard and knock on my screen door. What it shows me today, the furious winds, the slanting rain, may not be how it presents tomorrow, but I must keep in mind it is all the same storm and must be regarded with the same respect and treated with the same care and diligence. Whether it’s the thirst or the thinking, a jail cell or my mental mouse trap, alcoholism is an umbrella term for the tsunami, which came to collect me, but no definition will convey the devastation it has wrought.






Make sure you are more than your memories

*

THE FRUIT BOWL

Meetings are living and precious fruit
I must squeeze every drop from them
even the lemons.

I am privileged to be among the succulent growth
and pungent fragrance of determined hearts
and minds ----the infusion of strength.

The vitality received from the essence of truth
gives and gives to me.
I am refreshed by exposure to raw talent
revived by action and growth.

The diversity of shape and flavor
cheer and inspire me.
The contrast from bowl to challis is dramatic
ever a reminder to stay where it’s fresh.

[RockOn]

Love your August 28th post, Sherry.

Today, I do not try to hide the elephant in the living room under the rug. It was always so futile, anyway. And I was the last to know.

I chose to unmask, reveal him. This robbed him of his power.

Today, he cooperates. See him now.


Here is my support, my program.


It is always there for us ... anyone who seeks it with sincere desire. We only have to chose it ... then cooperate ... follow a few simple suggestions.

I pray I continue making the correct choice ... one day at a time.
Today, the fight is over and what an enormous relief.

Peace.
Brock

[LeftWriteFemme]

Thanks so much Brock! I am so glad you like this post! It's good to see the elephant is out and dancing!!! I'm keeping your sponsor in my thoughts and prayers today.

[RockOn]

Sherry,

Thanks so much for keeping Cheryl in your thoughts and prayers. I am thinking I will hear from her within an hour from now. They get their results back before they leave the testing facility ... so she will know if she passed it. It is a very tough computer certification exam and she has studied for about the past three months. I admire her grit. The good thing is she can take it again if she did not pass it today. And there is no shame in that. I believe she told me it costs her $250.00 to take it.

Enjoy your Saturday!

P.S.
Yes, the elephant is dancing today. He danced yesterday also. I honestly believe if I keep doing what I am doing, he will dance again tomorrow. Just so thankful I do not have to wrestle with him anymore. I was getting all mashed to heck and banged up pretty bad!! He always won in the end back then. I had to cease fighting everything and everyone. Amazing, that is when I noticed he started dancing. LOL!

[RockOn]

Ohhhhhhhhh ...

Cheryl just called and she was crying. She missed the passing mark by 4 questions. I hate this for her.

We talked. I told her I am proud of her no matter what. Wow, the fact she is attempting to study for this without any bootcamp training speaks volumnes about her determination and grit. She can take it again and the only thing that will change is her date on her certification. We are going to get together later on today. She wants to see my new dog.

The thing today is we people in the program are able to face life on life's terms, endure disappointments and not drink. With the tools provided by the program, we are winners ... we pick up and utilize those tools instead of the drink ... these tools that have been so freely given - made available to us. Before, we had no choice ... we did what we had to do during desperate events - which of course brought on more and more unraveling. At least, that is how it was back then for me but I could never, ever see it. Recovery opened my eyes.

Cheryl is okay. She even got to laughing. She made $1000.00 a while back on a job referral who was hired. She looked on the bright side, realized it has not cost her anything and still has more tries at the exam before it starts costing her out of pocket. Cheryl is a sport, I tell you. And a winner too! I am proud to call her my sponsor.

[LeftWriteFemme]

What a good attitude! Test can be hell. Please tell her I'm rooting for her.

The dog is so cute! What a nice pair of dogs you have.

I love your description of of the elephant dancing!!

I'm sure Cheryl will ace the test next time!

Have a great weekend!

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 29



The Slick Nature of Grace



The higher I climb the more severe the fall; the sweeter my life the more brittle my blood sugar. I must be more careful as I get better. I thought being sober would make my life free from care, but I think it is a freedom from fretting that might be more accurate. I must still climb and take in all the sweetness which comes my way, but always I must vigilantly keep my balance. Hold on tighter; eat more protein. Grace is a glorious thing and I am the consecrated recipient who knows the slickness of the slopes and the cunning of the glucose. Daring to be sober is an athletic endeavor I must tighten my cleats and sharpen my sweet tooth.






Check your motives against something fixed, then against something in motion

*

WILL YOU GET TO THE OTHER SIDE

Chickens stand together on the edge of the road
Pecking and scratching
People make fun.

People tell jokes
But it’s not so funny when we are the ones
Playing on the tracks.

We forget that all the excuses about longing for
Excitement and not wanting to be cut off
From the world sound like so much cackling
To the ears of people who value their lives.

Life in the pasture or the backyard
Is fulfilling if you want it.
That kind of life is no adrenaline rush
But then again isn’t adrenaline just another drug.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 30





Even at the Bottom


Why is it that I feel G-d leads me to the path, but expects me to travel it alone? In all honesty it feels more like G-d leads me to the stairs and I fall down them on my own. I lay in a heap at the bottom, filled with self-reproach for the landing. I forget that a power which draws me forward can also endure. I did not come here alone, will not leave here alone; I am never alone, even at the bottom of the stair.








Pat-down unwanted thoughts

*

HARVEST TIMING

The harvest fits in the growing season
And the oak fits inside the acorn.
My sober mind fits right in my sober time.

The soul of everything rubs across
The hind leg of a cricket to sing.
The infinite machinery of the universe spins
But you stand there questioning
The existence of a Higher Power.

Well, that’s who you are
But I have only one question for you
Who else could have made
All the best tomatoes come from Jersey?

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 31



Rex


Hungry dogs who love me anyway, dance around waiting to be fed. If they didn’t love they would take bloody bites and I don’t forget it. These puppies have teeth, like cigarettes I want to smoke but don’t. And meanwhile back on the farm I seek to quiet the whines and barking of the unfed, malnourished familiarity which writhes at my ankles and jumps at my knees. I can no longer pat my disquiet on the head and expect it to stay or heal. I must hunt down the beast which bothers me and feed the meat of it to the pups. I must not leave the lopers to quarry my burden if I want to remain master and leave them to be pet.








Rip yourself away from distress

*

DO YOU HEAR THAT SOUND

I was running on empty
And thought I was getting along that way
But the smoke gave me away.

My life had caught on fire
And I burned to the ground.
I thought nothing had been apparent
Until it all lay in ashes.

My sponsor said, No-------
We all knew when you tank ran dry.
The sucking sound could be heard for miles around.

I asked her, if that were true,
Why I hadn’t hear it myself?
She said, she guessed,
I had my denial turned up to loud.

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 1





Shadow of Doubt


The long dark cast covers my face, my thoughts, my life; it is the light blocked by my skepticism. To tear down the obstruction means a profound change of my internal architecture; walls will have to be knocked down, windows installed. The poor mouthed structure takes better to the steamroller than I wish it would. I fear the loss of my hideout, panic at the thought of a life in the sun. Skepticism builds a paper world; opaque, weak yet frightening to tear apart.








Rub the place where you land

*


WHY NOT HOME

Power is not production and production is not art.
I have to keep pulling the car to the side of the road
so I don’t miss the train of words sent to me,
from out of the dark blue life I am on the edge of living
but I still want to go home.

I will never give up these roadside excursions
into the river of thought though I do wonder why
the cable shoved into my house never gets this channel?
Why is the connection so strong on the bus not the bed?

The minefields of thought explosions seem seeded anywhere
as long as it’s at least five miles away.
Power is not production and production is not art.
I let it pour through me---it is not mine to sort.

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 2



Here Kitty Kitty


Litter training the lynx seems like a good idea until it is accomplished and all concerned are less for the accomplishment. Domesticity is a transparent cage, which has a presence felt by all whether loved or hated. The air is changed and the cat stifles, everyone is safer, so it is said, but what are we safer from? And what is a broken lynx, certainly not a house cat?





Peer under obstacles then climb over


*
ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

Just because the crows fly away when I arrive
doesn’t mean they are afraid
but they might be.

The obvious answers are usually the correct ones
but I must leave room for the unlikely answers too.
Sometimes a spade is a shovel
and a gofer is occasionally a retriever.

The world is a wonderful and fearful place
where possibilities are endless
if I am willing to allow the light
to strike these sheltered doubts.

Any day---any where --an alcoholic can stay drunk
or get sober.

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 3




Where’s Your Chair?


Is the ring more unnatural for the tamer or the lion? One the trapped, the other the trapper. Who is the more in danger; the one with loss of freedom or the one with possible loss of life? And while this question is still in play the next question is begged. Why is there a ring? What is worth the price paid by the whip holder or the whipped? Spectacle is a thing whose cost reaches from the forest to the trees; can take you from the highest rung down to your knees. All this lost for some Owwe’s and Ah’s from people needing diversion from the ring they turn tricks in.




Refuse delivery of bad acts

*

HOW EVER YOU CAN

I heard --Let go with love.
You know how to do that? Asked my sponsor.
No that’s why I’m here to see you,
But it sure sounds like something I should do.

Well in a perfect world maybe we can all do it that way.
But for now let go with a mean look in your eye.
Let go with rage in your heart.
Let go with words boiling on you tongue.

Let go with the butter knife up to its hilt in the jelly jar.
Let go standing at the sink wishing for some other life.
Let go as a reflex
Let go as an anthem, as a prayer, as a declaration.

Let go even when you don’t feel you are holding on anymore.
At the same time-hold on to what’s important---
Your recovery---Your Higher Power, and your sense of humor.