Examine the Moment

Walk along a beach,
pebbles and sand blend,
stretch as carpet.
Examine a pebble, colors cascade,
tiny world replete with hills.
Let sand run through fingers,
marvel at still smaller globes
and imagine the not only unseen
but unseeable molecules and atoms,
more miniscule orbs.
Experience the day,
hours and minutes blend,
stretch as tapestry.
Examine an hour, a minute,
a second, and stand
in awe.

Subject to Change

Our perspective on change is subject to change. ~ Vernetta Howell

Grant me the serenity to accept
what I cannot change.
Well, that doesn't leave much
since I'm in charge of the world, huh?
But then again, my track record...
doesn't seem like much I've managed
to change. So, I'll skip playing god,
let them run their own lives —
into the gutter, of course,
they never would listen.
All I can change is me,
and while I don't need much,
I could use a bit of polish.
Why am I here? Just the little problem,
the consumption's a tad out of control.
It's not like I haven't managed
the rest pretty darned well.
The fear? How do you know I'm afraid?
The guilt? I'm not guilty!
I've done some things,
but it's not my fault, nothing for guilt.
I'm just up tight because they don't
understand. What sensitive person
wouldn't feel the tension in my place?
You think I can change that?? Really?
No? You said I could! Oh. God.
Yeah, sure. I've tried that. He ignores me.
I haven't let him? Bull. I implored him!
What do you mean surrender?
Give up? Absolutely not!
What are you, some kind of cult?
Just tell me the secret of being calm,
happy, smiling for real, not practiced.
What can I do to change?

More What Will Be Revealed?

Denial means "Don't even know I am lying." With the Big Book saying, "More will be revealed," I keep wondering what other lies I'm telling and don't know yet. (Paraphrased. Anne B)

I deny I deny anything!
I've lied to myself and to others
so often, so naturally, all my life
it seems, or at least the life until now.
But I'm not now! I'm brutally honest
about myself, I share deeply in group,
even answered a question honestly,
the dreaded, "How much do you weigh?"
And I tell my sponsor everything I think
she wants to hear.

Brash!

"I offer myself to Thee."
Humph. I prayed to be ready,
to be willing to do it,
to learn to market my product,
to put it out for the world to see,
to actually tell the world it's there.
So God created a conversation
with someone who's walked
the path I yearn for ready, willing
to mentor me. One next bold step,
totally doable, but OH SO BRASH.
Oh, okay! I offer myself to Thee,
I guess.

A Glimmer

Deep in the darkest recesses of the jungle called my mind a glimmer of a thought peeks cautiously out from under a log. There are scary beasts in the jungle, but that little thought will survive! ~ Diggy Bell

Murkiness entombed in gloom,
I hover inside, trembling,
craving anonymity, oblivion —
apathetic, without strength to budge,
to wonder what else exists.
Somewhere beyond, brilliance expands,
finally so tremendous a tinge,
a glimmer penetrates my leaden vault
troubling, agitating, an irritant
that cannot be ignored.
Persistent, steadfast, patient,
the glimmer becomes the norm,
acceptable, tolerable, all right.
Acceptance nourishes, brightens
the presence, enlightens without,
within, until I want to have hope.

Blame It on Them

Blame it on your mom —

how could she have expected

excellence, acknowledgedwith a nod, while disappointments
stood center stage, emphasized?

Blame it on your dad —
how could he have travelled
every week, leaving you without
day-to-day companionship, leaving
you to be disciplined by Mom?

Blame it on the profs —
how could they have failed
to see your merit, to catch the gems
of genius in the late-night term paper,
how could they focus on the lapses?

Blame it on them —
you've practiced for years, omitting
thinking how they were right, seeing only
burning resentment. Blame it on them —
or accept responsibility and heal.

Mother, May I?

A child's game, great fun.
A way of life, codependent.
People pleasing run awry
relinquishing identity,
becoming an adjunct.
Daddy, may I?
Husband, may I?
My child, do you mind if I
correct you, discipline you?
Mother, May I?
One giant step, okay,
crabwalk three seconds, okay,
may I have my own opinion,
not okay.

Inherent Power

INHERENT POWER. An authority possessed without its being derived from another. It is a right, ability or faculty of doing a thing, without receiving that right, ability or faculty from another. (A Law Dictionary, Adapted to the Constitution and Laws of the United States. By John Bouvier. Published 1856.)

A court should
use inherent power
cautiously, responsibly,
when justice requires —
a trump card, a lifeboat
to reach right results,
an equalizer.

I come powerless, out of control,
without recourse or hope
and find a Power, yield,
cradled and comforted
as fears assail. I'm led
gently, Step by Step
to sanity, to peace, to joy.
As I grasp who's in charge
and my own place,
suddenly I find power in me —
inherent power to use
cautiously, responsibly,
when justice requires,
when I ask to understand
my role and for power
to carry that out.

The Cost to the Jailer

One of the most expensive things the Commissioners Court has to deal with is the cost of keeping people in jail. ~ Hon. Margaret Keliher 

When I try to limit your impact on my life
by holding you at bay, by resenting you,
by talking to others of your betrayal,
by recruiting folk to “my side,”
I hold at least one of us imprisoned,
and she is me. I cannot restrain you,
stop your perfidy. And when I try
my hands, my life, are filled with the struggle.
When I choose to accept I cannot change you,
when I keep my eyes on my side of the street,
when I have courage to change what I can — me —
I am freed from the prison of resentment
while you, untangled from my strings,
might choose to change what you could.

That NIMBY Mentality

NIMBY: Not in my backyard.

Write a list of people, institutions, and principles
I resent? Oh, yeah! That ream of paper
won’t cut it. I can tell you how this whole world
could run, oh so much better. The hateful,
vicious people all around, how selfish, how base!
Why am I angry? I’m hurt! On so many levels —
my self-esteem is crushed, I’m damaged financially,
I’m stymied in attaining my goal, my ideal,
my relationship with others is shattered,
even in the bedroom! My whole life is screwed up
because of these people, institutions, principles.
The world and its people are often quite wrong.
And it continues, ad nausem, an infinitum.
I know sometimes I messed up, made it worse,
and guilt joins the anger, so I resent everybody,
especially me.

Maybe others have the remorse, made mistakes
like mine. They could even think I’m more wrong
than they! Could they be right? Have I been selfish,
dishonest, self-seeking? Has my fear controlled?
If all I can change is my backyard, what’s in it?
What did I do to make this mess?

Oh. Now I see!

Honest to God

"You can't pray a lie." ~ Mark Twain

I'm good at lying, you know, God.
Sometimes it just pours out, fears
bred in from years of reactions to
inconvenient truths, to my own will,
to not-the-expected. I can convince
most anyone, especially me sometimes.
I'm good at justifying, you know.
So, God, I'm counting on you to convict me,
to jerk my leash. Help me to be honest,
God. To you. To me. To all.

Desperation

Diet's didn't work,

the weight lurked, 

ruled, oppressed.

Overeaters Anonymous?

You've got to be kidding.

People sitting in a circle,

reading, talking, 

chanting rituals.

No diets, no reporting, 

no plans to follow.

Just talk about insanity,

some higher power,

resentments, fear,

face people harmed.

What changes is life!

Weight loss is a byproduct.

Perspective

Does he think nobody cares
if he comes or doesn't?
Does he believe others too busy
to want him there?
Does he resent feeling an outsider?
Can he come to understand
he's the hole in the pictures,
absence triggering recollection
of decades of a crater in lives?

Resentment!

You! How could you!!!
It's bad enough when I'm
the bunt of your acts.
You, so kind to strangers,
so acerbic to me, how could you
treat her that way as my surrogate?
Resentment roils. I want to wallow,
to keen, to shriek.
"Resentment is infinitely grave,"
the book says. Yeah. I'd like to use
the term with a shovel
instead of a furrowed brow.
"We found that it is fatal."
Okay by me! But the book means me,
fatal to me. I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.
"The grouch and the brainstorm
were not for us." Poison, it calls resentment.
Like taking it and waiting for the other to die.
How could you?! 
Because you hurt. Because resentment
roils outside of me. Just because.
It's not my business. I wish for you
what I want. Peace. Serenity. Love.
Freedom from resentment's fist.

(Quotations are from page 66 of Alcoholics Anonymous.)

Spaces in the Truth

So what's the truth?

The witness swears to tell it,

the whole of it, nothing but it,

yet lawyers seldom allow

whole truth, only censored truth.

Say what you mean,

mean what you say,

don't say it mean. 

That's saying the truth,

but sometimes not the whole

of it. Whose truth can you tell?

"You do not have permission

to tell anything you heard today."

If she owns the truth, is it hers

to hold? Is it wholly hers?

If she's mine, is part of her truth

mine? 

Being Taught

Personally, I'm always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught. ~ Winston Churchill

Ready, set, go!
If I have to hold my nose
to swallow the medicine,
let me really be ready —
not just claim to be.
Here I am, teach me.

Surprise!

We may not be able to determine which course to take. Here we ask God for inspiration, an intuitive thought or a decision. We relax and take it easy. We don't struggle. We are often surprised how the right answers come after we have tried this for a while. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 86)

Surprises linger in memory
year after year. The package
under the 1977 Christmas tree
I knew was a gag – but it wasn't.
That good rejection letter, personal,
from a BIG time editor. A phone call
from another. Serendipity soars!
That first surprise prayer answer
from God, August, 1969.
Who wouldn't want more?

Just the Hug

They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by taking a few drinks - drinks which they see others taking with impunity. (Alcoholics Anonymous, "The Doctor's Opinion")

Powerless, I lie imploring power.
Loving arms lift me, hug me,
dry me, feed my empty stomach,
speak soft words, wrap me warmly,
hold me as I fall asleep, content
in the loving hug.

Powerless, I scurry to meet my needs,
buy prizes, eat things, seek out crowds
seeming to have the illusive answers.
Powerlessness expands as I repeat
and find the same results for repeated acts.
Then I learn, it's not the food, not the things,
not the pacifiers I try. I'm looking
for the hug.

About Recovery (A Sestina)

She'd hit bottom and recovering
must come. In the clinic detox section
she fought back demons and faced the dilemma —
telling the kids. Maybe fascinating
stories of a handsome baron or about
Turks needing services she could volunteer?

No! Lies were out. But should she volunteer
the truth? She'd hid it, always. Recovering
from drugs was not enough. Her kids knew about
her "medications" though she'd tried to section
her life to protect them. Fascinating
how young they'd grasped her life's dilemma.

She'd lost a husband to the dilemma,
knifed him for suggesting she volunteer
for treatment. So he'd left. Fascinating
now how right his leaving seemed. Recovering
in the cold, sanitary detox section
clarified what past and future were about.

The truth be told, she didn't mind about
him. But their sons were ten and twelve, a dilemma.
She should be sitting in the cheering section
of Mark's softball game and ought to volunteer
for Joe's field trip. But she lay recovering,
safe. And clarity was fascinating.

How could she bask in clarity, fascinating
or not, and not do anything about
the boys? What was the use of recovering
without them. She had more than one dilemma.
Without them she might as well volunteer
for permanent residence in detox section.

But she couldn't stay on in this section.
Watching drunks and druggies wasn't fascinating
but disgusting. She'd better serve to volunteer
once through, but she must do something about
the boys. How could she call her sons a dilemma
and say the same about her own recovering?

The detox section was for her sons, about
them, not some fascinating abstract dilemma.
For them she'd volunteer to push on, recovering.

Camaraderie, Joyousness and Democracy Pervade

We are average Americans. All sections of this country and many of its occupations are represented, as well as many political, economic, social, and religious backgrounds. We are people who normally would not mix. But there exists among us a fellowship, a friendliness, and an understanding which is indescribably wonderful. We are like the passengers of a great liner the moment after rescue from shipwreck when camaraderie, joyousness and democracy pervade the vessel from steerage to Captain's table. Unlike the feelings of the ship's passengers, however, our joy in escape from disaster does not subside as we go our individual ways. The feeling of having shared in a common peril is one element in the powerful cement which binds us. But that in itself would never have held us together as we are now joined. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 17)

We are average Americans
of every state, of every bent,
from homeless to aristocrat,
from child to centenarian
who came together ten years ago,
resolute, united, affirming
and affirmed. We have learned
when people face fear head-on,
when duty, others, necessity
replaces our ego-centric norm,
we who are powerless
become powerful through the
process and love happens.

May God bless the victims, their family, the first responders, the laborers long afterward, and the armed services. God bless America.

In Loving Arms

God's child. That's me.
I know God loves me —
the Bible tells me that
even if you can't find
a verse to show a child
just where the Bible
tells us so, that Jesus does.
What does it mean
to be loved by God?
I understand better today,
holding grandsons
in my loving arms.

Spiritual Awakening

"Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of working these Steps..." (Step 12)

Ask an outsider about the Steps,
they'll talk of sobriety, abstinence,
cessation of addiction.
Ask an insider – someone who stayed —
that's peripheral, a benefit. "The result"
is a daily walk with the power of the universe,
with serenity, with peace, with joy –
awakening to life!

Carry the Vision!

Every day is a day when we must carry the vision of God's will into all of our activities. "How can I best serve Thee – Thy will (not mine) be done." These are thoughts which must go with us constantly. We can exercise our will power along this line all we wish. It is the proper use of the will. ~ (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 85)

Carry the vision?
What happened to carry the message?
Does one trump the other?
If so, wouldn't the message trump the vision?
No. If we don't have the vision
we don't have the message
and then we don't have what anybody wants
and we're not asked to lead, to guide,
to mentor. And without the vision,
it's good we're not asked. Instead,
we should seek those who carry the vision
and catch the spark once more.

Where I Live

Where I live is inside of me,
and it's mine! All mine,
my birthright.
Life is my birthright, one I disclaimed, renounced for years. I live inside of me where life is, and from this day forward I intend each day to answer "Present!" to life's role call.

What Comes Next?

I don't know what Step I'm on —
I've worked through them all,
but they don't feel done, finished.
So, where do I start? How do I grab
the rope, catch the train,
how do I find my rhythm?
It's not like I need to start over.

Oh. It's not a Step I need,
but a step. The next right step,
the next right thing. Read
the literature, call someone,
do some service, quit hiding
from my fears. The next right step
is to step in the right
direction.

Easy Burden

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. ~ Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV)

Whistle while you work
and the whistling may be harder
than the work. Like Paul,
learn to be content in what you do
and find your joy where you are.
Work is easier in good company
and God's good company.

Becoming Who I Was

We take a piece of information that makes no sense to us and we make that a part of who we are. (Lynda B, paraphrased)

You said it, I shook my head
internally, yielding to worthier
knowledge, you so certain
and I so diffident even when
it felt wrong. But I've been told
and gospel it becomes.
You tell me face north to park,
I do it year by year. You begin to
park in that lot – southbound.
Windshield wipers, flushing toilet,
unlocked doors, how many edicts
did I adopt, still seeing no sense?
I'm powerless, living unmanaged life,
when I control or yield to you.
You failed as my higher power,
as did I. Now I choose One
who works.

What they think of me...

Assumptions run rampant, not the way I'm thinking, though — not from them about me. I sit among a few dozen alcoholics, most if not all clean and sober, some for decades. But those that aren't, or are but can't follow guidance on silence, on anonymity... what if they know me, jump conclusions to wrong logical guess? Do I get the chance to say I'm not one of you? Does it matter? Does my need to justify say I have greater need to be here than they?

Standing on Promises?

I grew up singing - or playing

accompaniment to - the old hymn

"Standing on the Promises."

Youthful, I believed I stood there,

secure in the faith, in the promises,

in belief. Knocked down by life,

despairing grabbing hold again

of the childish faith I'd known,

I found promises spelled out, 

offer made, prediction of finding them

halfway along the path. One day, I trust,

I'll live them, stand staunchly entrenched

in new happiness, freedom, accepting my past.

I'll bask in peace, serene, self-seeking

a distant memory. Yes, one day I'll

take my stand there, but for now, I'll not claim

to stand on them, only to cling to them.

Potent Impotence

1. We admitted we were powerless over food — that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 59)

Powerless: impotent.
Potent: sane, useful, empowered.
Impotence yells, mad as hell
while powerless slumps down,
gives up. Impotent embarrasses,
makes it personal while powerless
demands a social program.
No matter which way we react
to our impotent powerlessness,
the Power is the same,
the Potent Power.