Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 30



SMOG


When I burn out, the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area. I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full; I empty out and my light grows dim. I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep. If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it and the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood. I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze. Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task if I make proper use of resources. When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted and separated from my source, then the source I am to others is extinguished. I can only light the darkness where I am; I can’t illuminate someone else’s path. Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor due to a lapse in my spiritual condition.


Place the period then write to it.
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From Mind to Pen to Paper

What a relief to have exteriorized all the swirl of thought,
which normally swarms my mind,
waiting to take the stage and run through their numbers.

Then like deciphering a code
I was able to cross out all the irrelevant and redundant information,
leaving me with a clear answer.

Once there standing on its own;
it was obvious and easily explained
how two plus three is five.

I just love anything that can be explained all on one hand
and there it was tidy and neatly fitted in the nest of my palm,
easy to grasp hold of with my fingers or my mind.





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[LeftWriteFemme]

July 2


CURRENCY OF FEAR


Fear pays the way for my disease to enter. Once inside fear seats itself front and center. Fear is the currency that allows entry to the far reaches. The coinage is ancient and steeped in tradition. There is no time or place that hasn’t been moneyed with fear and its derivatives. I can’t hide from it so my job must be to educate fear. Fear is real and has a place as protector and warning. But fear expands with ignorance and devalues the purpose of caution. Fear cannot buy safety, though I can use it to pay the toll across the bridge to balance.



Speckle your tongue with new words.
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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 God who rains down from the heavens
light and water or is God truly living
at the center of the earth,
warming my toes and securing me to what is real.






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[LeftWriteFemme]

July 3

LIBERTY HOPE?



If you had to choose, would it be liberty or hope? Liberty is highly recommended, but without hope, how would you know you were at liberty? Transversely if you have no liberty, how could you have hope? Removal of liberty removes the possibility of hope. So, why ask for a choice to be made? Well, that’s the joy of liberty. I am free to ask anything and you are free to imagine anything and hope for more.


Plan a diet for your fears.
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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.



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[LeftWriteFemme]

July 4

RENTING JOY


I cannot buy happiness. No matter how much money I spend, how hard I work, I can never pay bliss off on lay away. The angles of escape for glee are phenomenal. I see runaway emotions and must concede ownership. When opportunities arise for satisfaction I pay the fare and take the trip. The boat isn’t mine to keep but the tour is forever in my heart. I can’t take it home to bury it in the yard. Like a wild thing I can leave joy where I find it. I never need to cage or bind it. I need to enjoy each measure while the music plays. I remunerate for time in proximity; delight arrives and stays as long as it likes. I linger at the table and enjoy my dessert. Leasing elation is an occasion of celebration. Living moment to moment has given me this chance. So, I take it.


Copy your favorite shape.

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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 God,
whether or not I believe God 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.

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



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[LeftWriteFemme]

July 5

UTILITY OF EMOTION



I plug into the utility of my emotions. These utilities aid my life as all utilities do. The duel prong of anger serves to light me up and gives me strength to set good boundaries. The four-line clip cord of pain allows me to keep in touch with my Higher Power, my friends, and my fellows. I have nothing to share if I can’t stay real about my pain. Fear is hard to contain and is carefully piped. Explosions of fear can start so easily it’s a good thing its foul odor can be smelled in the air. The coaxial cable of joy screws neatly into the back of my mind and gives me endless delight, color and sound; these are the privileges of sobriety. Emotions are plainly utilitarian but they help me survive and make living into a life.


Touch all the letters in your name.
*

The Biggest Chicken

I love to be mystical,
but the only dragon in my life
is when I let things drag on and on.

Procrastination is the winged beast in my world
and when she is slain the sun comes out
and I can count my blessings and plan for my possibilities.

The deep ditch left by depression
is where the lizard lays; siphoning my time
and sucking clean the bones of my wasted talents.

I have lunged and poked, stabbed her with my steel
and blown holes in her with my revolver,
but not until I sever the tendon with which she holds me
in her grasp do I have any real chance to be rid of her claws.

Once free of her I must be forever vigilant
lest her smothering song lure me back to that evil nest
where I feel as helpless as her egg.



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[LeftWriteFemme]

July 6

OPTICAL ILLUSION


From the right angle a hatpin can appear taller than the Empire State Building. I can skew my perspective to such an extreme or let my disease do it for me. I can believe myself to be other than I am: the sweetest, kindest------smartest, quickest------smallest, slowest-------lowest, meanest. I can see myself as all this and more as long as I squint with one eye and look at only half of any issue. I can play the parts and act as if these things are true. I can even get others to play along. I can make fantasy fact if I lower the floor. I can die in the basement, many do. I can turn my face from science and be the center of all that spins..…OR….. I can climb the stairs to ground level. I can turn my mind to facts and fractions. Leave my better-than, less-than universe and see the height of everything and stand tall with both my eyes open.


Put a surprise in your pocket.
*


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.

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.


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[LeftWriteFemme]

July 7

COLD AND FLU SEASON



The spiritual cold and flu season is upon me. I am awash in reaction and confusion. I have been overexposed to the dry thinking and barking orders of the cough so associated with this disability. My eyes swell and blur with my refusal to accept reality. The tickle of discomfort from inhaling disagreeable ideas is small in comparison with the nausea I suffer when I swallow every line of nonsense put forth from my dizzy and congested mind. There is no pill to dissuade my symptoms; I must raise the heat on this inertiac little bug. Parasites breed in the stagnant water of my paralysis. If I move in my sobriety, sweat a little and flush my system, I should be able to shake this insidious germ. Then I can reach my hand out to the people who caught the spiritual flu from me.


Write pretty words on pretty paper.
*


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

For that matter from strangers on the street.
it is good for me to remember there is change in my pocket
and a Resuscitation Certificate in my wallet.




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