Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 2

Reguess

When in my sarcasm I suggested that you ‘guess again’, I realized that you were in fact guessing, guessing about everything, guessing in order to create a process of elimination, a tool on which I now recognize you entirely depend. Guessing as a way of life is a tragedy. I’m not saying that trying to know every last thing in the world is an acceptable alternate goal, but to reach an adult age and not even be able to work your way up to a possible hunch is scary, scarier than even my sarcasm, which at this moment seems interminable, but I’m sure you guessed that.

Make a list of your favorite fingers
*

ON COMING

Anticipation of the approaching traffic consumes.
The tiny spec grows and develops into the arriving vehicle
50 miles per and the rapid succession of the coming
And those leaving eats quickly at my heart.

The pain seers me
Why are these who travel from the direction of my destination
Passing me by?
For miles and miles they appear to be greeters

The breeze created by their passing chaps my face
And questions my goals
How can so many abandon my objective?
But flee they do.

My hunger does not diminish
And I press on
Of course if we all went this way, we might tip the globe
Maybe that’s what they fear.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 13

Be That Girl

I have tried to protect the investment I made in the past by selling the soul of my future. I arrived self-possessed, a winning girl, but I slid the self from the scene leaving me simply possessed. I gained everything then lost it a piece at a time starting with the parts nearest my heart. I must draw the shards together once more and mend this lovely crystal. The art of living is insured by my action not by grasping at slivers in terror of what slips from my fingers. I am what I have inviolate and all else comes to fruition when I am pleased; when I am myself.

Be aware which pens are poison

*
SOOT

I diligently work to remove the soot.
The residue from the last time I tried to hot wire my brain
When I attempted the short circuit of my safety-thinking
I caught my life on fire and flames, though brief, were spectacular.

Electric fires are very jarring
The burning insulation toxic
It leaves bare, stuttering lines crossing and recrossing

My stable base, the methods I once used to keep sane, is shot
All because I wanted to go joyriding in my thoughts
Suspended reality sounds so good but always bursts into flame
Leaving me with soot removal as a hobby


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 11

Prize Catch

There is a reason that fish flap and twist when they are caught, why even though they are in the air they fight for the life that once was theirs, only martyrs go without a fight, it is good to know that at least this vice is not mine. When I did not love my life its loss was not an actual change, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to struggle for. Now I thrash at the feel of my loved life slipping from me. It is good to know I have passion enough to rally a defense. My life can be taken from me, but I haven’t lost my will to fight.

Turn confusion until its smooth


*

THE PALMIST

Last night I had a silly dream.
I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table
Held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said
“Today you will go to a meeting which will save your life”

I thanked her and left full of anticipation.
When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation
I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation.

I paid close attention to the coffee maker,
Those setting up chairs with me and the newcomer
I listened carefully to the speakers
And the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer

Nothing out of the ordinary happened
Other than my realization that
Every meeting saves my life.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[pumpndude]

this thread is important to people in recovery.....
I'm sure I'm not the only alcoholic/addict here in recovery...
If so I hope new members find this site....

[pumpndude]

Today is a good day, why? I have another day clean and sober....

I turned 20 on Nov.-13-16
I have heard pretty much everything at meetings or talking with fellow members etc....

If anyone wants to talk and don't want to post on this thread then message me....

Searching for fellow members of AA, would like to read posts and make some new friends...

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 8

THE WAY I DO IT


Cooking by smell, parking by ear, recovering by touch. The latter has to be done this way; I cannot see into the black-box technology, which keeps me sober. Feel through the resentments, pain, sadness, joy; find myself under a pile of rags with a match in my hand. The many times the steps have saved me from becoming a human torch are balanced by the weight of the rope, woven from these same rags, that together we use to drag one another to safety. The savory scent of a meal, or the glee of front row parking can’t compare with the tender sense of a sober heart.


Write bad advice on tissue and wipe with it.
*

Master Mind


I was taught that it was my job to master fear;
raised in a religion swearing they could master death.
I used to spend all I had trying to create a master plan,
while trying to keep secure using a Master lock.

I have seen Master & Commander
and do not long for that burden;
in fact mastery is so much a snare and illusion.

Life is quite improved
when we each have an oar and we all row on.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/J9IaheHYzsg

[Tommi]

Originally Posted by pumpndude

Today is a good day, why? I have another day clean and sober....

I turned 20 on Nov.-13-16
I have heard pretty much everything at meetings or talking with fellow members etc....

If anyone wants to talk and don't want to post on this thread then message me....

Searching for fellow members of AA, would like to read posts and make some new friends...

Hello pumpndude,
Happy belated Birthday
It's Thursday and I am sober and happy to be a Friend of Bill.

Just for today, reading, meetings and membership in such a great club, came here to read and to post for many years.
So, welcome, and post away.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 10

ELECTRIC CONNECTIONS


I step into a room and take its currency. Is the flow good? Steady? The pulse even and strong? Where are the power brokers and are they sharing the time or using their magnetic personalities to draw the current off others? I check the complement of resisters, examine their stripes and assess the possibilities. I pump in energy when I can and take when it is available. I keep in mind we are all transformers and change is possible for everyone as long as we make the connections.


Rich mistakes make good batter.
*



What’s that in the Pool?


Parts of the Rocky Mountains look like
algae bloom out in the Indian Ocean.
Parts of me look like parts of you
and here we go with oneness
being nothing more than
pattern recognition and optical illusion;
though I hope there is more to it than that.

My hurt might not be your hurt,
but I have a sense of it.
Likewise your hope may not resemble mine,
but it cheers you just the same
and we are all the better for it.

We needn’t replicate each other
or attempt imitation,
but recognition is a kind thing
and art is what we all have to share.


Vlog: http://youtu.be/ymX2yjLcpws

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 14

DO WE SEE



The old man walked down the road to see the end; I followed to glimpse the fruit of his pursuit. Does the highway come to rest or like the river just feed a greater sea? And time; will the clock stop him? Can he win the treasure hunt as the seconds tick away on the metronome? Will the slowing of his steps and the advancing of his age create a curve, which will prevent his accomplishment? Does this tag-along I am doing make me a part of his project? The road is long and its end may never come, only ours. When we take the road the road takes us. More and less is what we are and so too the road. I follow the contour of the ground, which curves around the world, spinning in our sky so we can all see the stars.


Reality builds contentment, fantasy disappointment.

*


Calm, Peaceful, On



Once I center my mind I can type in the dark.
All it takes is me present and willing to flow.
Limber up the learning curve,
press my fingers to the keys,

Let the story tell its tale.
Cease the interjections lest it all go stale.
There is nothing much to know,
It’s all inside, I just let it go.

Emptying this crowded vault,
I open up to prevent assault.
What to do when it hits the page;
marketing is all the rage,
but for this task I need a light.
To sell myself I must be bright.



Vlog: http://youtu.be/QpbtJlNkWto

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 16

GOOD SAMARITAN PIE


The meal prepared from my cognition, the bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation, roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie, wait on the table to be devoured. The courses pass and come dessert my kindly intentions are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting. I can, with dollop after dollop, cover the requisite desires of this tart in an attempt to deny my addiction to fixing or I can serve up the plain truth. I help and help and wander down roads looking for lost puppies to return to their homes. I must admit my longing to lend support is sometimes half-baked, and if kept to home and hearth it might serve me better and make a sweeter dish. Assistance is best in proportion to the meal. I must live my life and save my pie till last.


Hold each other's hands but explore.
*
Touch Your Toes


Funny how we deal with feet.
I have seen a woman cradle hers
and treat it like the dearest babe.

I know some folks who shun their feet;
can barely stand to think of them,
let alone to touch them.

There are the Mani-Pedi people
who leave it in the hands of others.
I met a guy who soaks them soft
and tucks little bits of cotton
under the corners of his nails.

I know too,
the woman with the snarling crusty dogs
that serve to others as a warning.

My grandma warns me
not complain about my shoes
lest I meet the man who has no feet,
but I doubt I would fit in his.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/7eUgwQQ5ZPI

[cathexis]

Originally Posted by pumpndude

this thread is important to people in recovery.....
I'm sure I'm not the only alcoholic/addict here in recovery...
If so I hope new members find this site....

We are everywhere (under a rock or a disco-ball, as a CEO or the janitor). You never know where we'll up!!!

Sober 7 years.

[pumpndude]

Yes this site is up and running....good people coming back and post and read posts....

Its great to be clean and sober- so much to appreciate and enjoy...;cigar2:

Tommi- Hi glad your happy to be sober....

Cathexis- congrads on being sober 7 years....

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 3

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks


I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears. Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by. I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole. I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose. I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target.



Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife


~


DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting
I didn't know the circus was in town
I expected calm, demure, sober behavior
My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.

There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker
There were kids playing among the chairs
Smokers worked the meeting in shifts
Hustling out the back door and smoldering back in.

The side conversations rivaled the main attraction
People dressed for the street not the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no skirt
Was more of a high-wire act then I had ever seen before
Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

"But for the grace of God" said my sponsor
"No" I said "It's a choice, they're sober now."
"Oh yes" she remarked "Weren't you sober when you took on
Every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?"

"I was cutting my chops. They understood."
"Some of them didn't." said she
"Weren't you sober when you dyed your hair red - but only half?"
" I was afraid I'd dye my scalp, so I started lower."

"Yes, but aren't you the one who says sudden hair color change
Is a sign of instability in sobriety?"
"Yes, I do." I replied
"I think you would have fit in well with the circus.
You and your two tone hair but you didn't hear it from me."
"You're mean."
"And what are you being?"
"Judgmental."

"That's my girl, what are we going to do about it?"
"Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough
Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms.
Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL."


Vlog: http://youtu.be/WLX_uTL2hao

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 4

One Singular Crowd


Isolation among the isolators is replete with metaphor and theme. Expectation blithers loudly but is drown by the palpable inevitability of the outcome. I pirouette in a room filled with dancers but we do not touch, we just spin near one another full view but little contact. Yet I hear my heart beating in my ear and know that I am alive. The flush of neighboring cheeks attests to duplicate conditions there. We are moving together sometimes in harmony but other times in antipathy, dependant all the same. We are the army of independent meanings. Individual cases sharing one slender goal but that’s all that we need.



If you can’t find the grape try some jelly.




~

THE BOAT

On my ride home from work there's a boat stuck between two trees
In the middle of a horse pasture
Next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass.
I think the boat is me.

I feel for the boat every time I see it.
Turned on edge, waiting for a river which doesn't exist anymore
And may never exist again
Placed on edge for protection, not comfort.

Although having my bottom rot out
Well, let's just say, might be more uncomfortable
What good will I be even if the river runs again
Since I'm fenced in?

If my Higher Power has a plan
If it includes a river and a fence
If I'm in this plan, me, the row boat
I just don't see it.

Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life
Truth is, I don't want to face the fact, I might float away
Even though I'm supported by two big trees
Even though there is a tall fence around me.

Completely in spite of the fact
THERE IS NO WATER
My Higher Power loves me.
I AM THE BOAT


Vlog: http://youtu.be/BXqTSzIuod4

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 7


Dion


Everything in the world happened before I was born and the cinders sift through my fingers. Accomplishing cohesion of the ashes is a goal I have not yet achieved. Cremains precious but meager are a difficult building material, shifting due to emotions and wind, I find they stick too well to my lungs and not well enough to anything else. Tears help, but I will not cry forever. I must draw from a fresh water source and wet the powdery scratch I have inherited and form the world anew.


Use caution when interacting with the crème de la crème this may trigger intolerance



*


OLD GOLDFISH

I got them when my sobriety was new.
They were tiny little guys, ten cent feeders.
I wanted my stepson to sleep soundly
In our strange jumble of a home, fresh from purchase.

The tank sat on a dresser under his elevated bed
Space to fit my hand to feed them
No space for baby boy to climb in
I loved my goldfish.

There is never a NO with goldfish
Feed them as often as you want
Let the water get cold
Put them in a big space, small place, plants, no plants.

NO was so hard, I hate and fear No.
I am hard, fish are easy.
Tears and mesmerizing aquarium
Meetings and steps.

I could not keep myself alive
I don't know how I kept the fish fed.
The program kept me going,
Kept hope flowing and the fish swam.

In this century when we are finally outliving wild goldfish
We are sober together,
By the grace of a Higher Power, in this century.
It's been a wonderful time.

I am grateful to be here with the goldfish.
I am grateful the goldfish are here for me.
Expecting so little
Maybe I could return the favor

Vlog: http://youtu.be/BVWOAXsGMBI

[Tommi]

Originally Posted by pumpndude

Yes this site is up and running....good people coming back and post and read posts....

Its great to be clean and sober- so much to appreciate and enjoy...;cigar2:

Tommi- Hi glad your happy to be sober....

Cathexis- congrads on being sober 7 years....

Thanks pumpndude, Congrats on 7 years Cathexis,

Jan 7, was my anniversary, 40th year sober and clean. Went to a meeting where there was over a hundred in attendance. Celebrations went from 24 hours to 46 years. Cake and chips were appreciated , celebrated and a good time was had by all us sober folks.

[pumpndude]

Tommi wow , happy, happy birthday, 40 years sober, you go dude...

glad you had a good bday at a meeting...

and thanks for the happy bday ....

[Martina]

I am not an acoholic, but am riddled with soft addictions which are ruining my health and preventing me from being the person I want to be. Tomorrow, a meeting. I am committing to it.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 1


Know Enough to Clap




If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands, but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then? Will my face display tell tale signs without whispering a word of it to my mind? Will I whistle a happy tune therefore revealing my inner state? If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist? Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion condemn me to remedial society? Is there any other society? If I become well enough to reflexively feel and exhibit my mood will I graduate to the advanced class or be forever alone no longer having a place amid the emotional head bangers, hair twirlers and cobweb pickers? Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation or confusion with a crowd? Could I know? Should I know? Would I know? Who knows?


Iron your will



*


THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.
No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly
In the end, if you don't land, it's a fall
And if you do, a flight.

How we begin seems of ultimate importance
But is seen as a farce in the face of ruin.
The most promising of starts can be sucked ground ward,
Compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through lack of humility.

Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal
Are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat.
Willingness is my aileron
It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain.

It smoothes the gusts of life which forever blow in my face
And willingness brings the ground up to meet me.
All I have to do is be willing
And stick out my feet.




.

[pumpndude]

Originally Posted by Martina

I am not an acoholic, but am riddled with soft addictions which are ruining my health and preventing me from being the person I want to be. Tomorrow, a meeting. I am committing to it.

So glad you decided to do something about your addiction and hope you stick around the rooms of AA/NA its all your choice....

You just might of caught your addiction before it got way out of control....I don't know your story but I'm rooting for you....

Hope to see more of your posts....