From Prayer to Prayer

I was there tonight
for the opening prayer,
stayed past the closing one,
but was I present? No.
My mind had moved on,
planning the drive home,
how to expedite it.
Fingers fiddled with phone,
not taking notes,
not recording jewels of thought —
for my mind didn't grasp them
for fingers to trace.

Beyond the Zone

“Do not resist events that move you out of your comfort zone, especially when your comfort zone was not all that comfortable.” ~ Alan Cohen

Beyond comfort
life waits.

Dratted uncomfortable
here in a misnamed zone.

Comfort – overrated
until its astounding
discovery

Odd haikus
lacking rules
sans straightjacket

How miserable
this myth called comfort

Not Too Good

God's not too good
to answer prayer for simplest things,
for sleep, for driving past temptation,
for remembering a name
or finding something lost.
God's not too good
for little things, for quirks
like crossing yourself
when you're not Catholic
or yelling at him in frustration.
God's not too good
to be my friend, to see humor
in trivia, get joy from snapshot details,
to care about me and my fears,
my concerns, my feelings, about me.

Astounding

Mediocre, run-of-the-mill
gets us anonymity, obscurity,
safety. Safe, obscure, unknown
suits me just fine. But am I ready
to waste the gifts I've been given?
Am I willing to step out,
take center stage, to dare to allow
what could happen if truly
I surrender and turn the making of me
over to He who I agreed should have it?
Am I ready to chance being astounding?

Up and Down

Over the long haul, our weight went up and our self-esteem went down. ~ The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous (Kindle Location 161)

Mother told me she could glance
and know the status of my life —
the heavier, the more miserable,
the more lacking in pride,
in confidence, in peace.
We broadcast our recovery
like our defeat, in shapely skin
but more in ease, in joy, in serenity,
in confidence beaming through
lives at long last lived with dignity.

Tired and Sick

Normal doesn't dictate
the order of clichés.
Trim and fit, mean and lean,
mighty and high —
some work as well,
though all feel askew.
Truth can dwell in dissonance.
How often has fatigue come first,
as old, sick patterns tag along?

Love Like Crazy

People loved me when I was crazy. I want to be like that and love other people who are crazy. ~ Kaitlin

You loved me like crazy
when insanity clutched me,
pulled my strings —
when I channeled Lady Macbeth,
guilt and self-flagellation reigning.
You modeled sanity, serenity
when such foreign notions
belonged in fairy tales,
slapstick parodies, fantasy.
You led me, suggested simplest steps —
acting like, just doing, not thinking.
You heard me out, without accusing,
never laughing at my pathos, my plight.
You repeated, restated, found similes.
You told your tale, illuminating my path.
Bit by bit, little by slow, we lived the plan
until I find myself sitting here,
greeting newcomers, ready, anxious,
loving the chance
to love them like crazy.

From www.funnyanimalpictures.net

Recycling Roadmarks

Like a trail winding up a mountain,
as the twirling blade of an auger,
circling from one up escalator
to the next and next and next —
the path seems an endless loop
without perspective to detect the climb.
We work the steps, one to two, three
then four and five. Six, seven, eight and nine
with the last three ever cycling.
One climb reaches height, but the "there"
consistently recedes, ever out of reach.
It's not a maze, not an endless loop,
but ever pressing further, fuller,
moving into recovery, into joy,
into fulfillment without ever ending
the joy of the journey.

Photo by Pierre Metivier

I Could Begin

It wasn't A.A. that had the closed mind, it was me. The minute I stopped arguing, I could begin to see and feel. Right there, Step Two gently and very gradually began to infiltrate my life. ~ ​Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (Alcoholics Anonymous), page 27

I could begin to see.
I could begin to feel.
I could begin to live.
I could begin to believe.
When I quit arguing,
justifying, stretching truth,
wallowing in guilt,
preening with pride,
believing myself above...
When I got real
I could begin!

As Willing as the Dying

Under the lash of alcoholism, we are driven to A.A., and there discover the fatal nature of our situation. Then, and only then, do we become open-minded to conviction and as willing as the dying can be. We stand ready to do anything which will lift the merciless obsession from us. ~ ​Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions ​(Alcoholics Anonymous)

How willing can the dying be —
and what's the definition of dying?
It can't be the philosophical one,
we're born and begin dying then
for willfulness seems a mandatory stage
in the maturity process.
Can it be dying as a doctor saying
what you're doing is going to kill you?
Maybe for some – it depends
on the persuasiveness of the doctor,
the receptiveness of the patient.
And what about when there's no question —
eminence can't be challenged —
but medical or metaphysical miracle
rewrites the script? Are you still dying
when you didn't?
How miserable do we have to be in addiction
before the message comes through?
Is it harder after we've found it,
the lifting of the merciless obsession,
and let it ebb away because finally
we aren't – weren't – dying anymore?

Consequences

When I lose that battle with my will, my will gets stronger. I haven't lost it over an apple. Yet. ~ Joy C

I'm tired. It's just a smidgen.
I deserve it. It's really not breaking rules,
not even bending -- much.
Nobody cares. And if they did
99% of the world
would see this doubt as absurd.
Perfectionism is a defect, an imperfection.
But I know better. The fact I'm rationalizing
means I'm fighting my willfulness.
And if I yield this time the game board changes,
advantage will. Chalk ones more up for
setting me up for relapse. The apple's not worth it.

Feet in the Water

 Now the Jordan is at flood stage all during harvest. Yet as soon as the priests who carried the ark reached the Jordan and their feet touched the water’s edge, the water from upstream stopped flowing. It piled up in a heap a great distance away, at a town called Adam in the vicinity of Zarethan, while the water flowing down to the Sea of the Arabah (that is, the Dead Sea) was completely cut off. So the people crossed over opposite Jericho. ~ Joshua 3:15-16 (NIV)

A heavy box, flood-stage waters,
men in long, heavy robes
walking – with trepidation perhaps,
but walking nonetheless.
Steps into the scary, footfalls into faith.
Whether into the Jordan or into cutting words
one foot, next step, forward once more
our footfalls, too, move without knowledge,
confidence precarious, but move as told
with a prayer that we be shown
all through the day
what our next step is to be.*

* ​Alcoholics Anonymous, ​page 87

Sing with My Understanding

I will sing with my spirit, but I will also sing with my understanding. ~ 1 Corinthians 14:15b (NIV)

They say you can't be too dumb
to recover — you can be too smart.
Certainly there's reason for so saying
yet it's not necessarily true.
Analysis plays the boogie-bear.
Sorting out pieces, working the puzzle,
arguing logic disagrees, debunks glibness.
Simple feels flippant, absurd,
like it dishonors the Power, denigrates truth.
Simple, not easy – but obvious, inevitable,
the one logical exegesis,
what remains when all else is tried.
And when intelligence melds
transformative with obvious,
yields to the irony,
embraces the preposterous —
then acuity sheds its handicap
and gleefully explores possibilities,
providing vocabulary, metaphor, clarity
to the melody of Recovery.

What It's Like Now

In the Twelve-Step format of Overeaters Anonymous we tell what it was like, what happened, and what's happening now. Short answers: Whoa! Wow! Whee!!!!! ~ OAStepper, Slender Steps to Sanity

The past. Almost six years ago, and so distant!
Yet again, fair is fair, the worst was fifteen years ago.
Back when I had no idea what I thought or wanted,
but could parrot others' opinions, desires.
When I knew I was successful but felt a miserable failure,
when food was my solace, my friend, my...demon.
Then I read a book, found friends on printed page,
others who suffered the torment, whose cravings ruled,
who had willpower in all else but were powerless over food.
I found I need not be apart but could really become a part.
And today! I'm sufficient. I'm real. I'm whole. I'm proud of me.
I matter. I make a difference. I can do all things
through Christ who strengthens me!

As the Feeling for a Friend

We finally saw that faith in some kind of God was a part of our make-up, just as much as the feeling we have for a friend. ~ Alcoholics Anonymous (Kindle Locations 838-839).

God, our friend. Some kind of God,
but a friend. God as we understand him.
All the years I analyzed God, understood
about God, worshiped him, acknowledged him.
But the friendship? Not really. Knowledge of
doesn't equal acquaintance with.
Theology isn't relationship. I'm less sure now
what God is like, but that makes sense, too.
I can have a firm grasp on a public figure,
but my friends? They're tough to figure out!

Tarry

Things to do, jobs unfinished,
people depending on me.
Why does it always seem I'm behind,
tardy, when nobody's pushing but me?
Theres value in pausing, in being still,
in knowing the awesomeness
of my constant companion. Today
I'll spell the word as "tarry," not "tardy."

Creative Braincells

Your creative braincells are always there. You're just using them to worry. ~ Ginny Greene as quoted by Jo Cox

Writers' block? No, not really.
Could be procrastination,
less well known but precisely
chronic low-intensity fear.
Could be lack of commitment,
the idea of being a novelist,
just wanting it to happen,
waiting for a ​Today Show debut.
Could be food fog, drug mania,
a drunken stupor,
hiding from potential,
seeking a feeling long-since gone
from psychic crutches.
Could be anxiety, concern,
guilt, angst, trepidation,
failure to realize we've no need
to succeed, to prove, to produce.
We need only do the next right thing
and trust Power from outside
to show our insides.

The Truth

Witnesses swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, nothing but it
then lie and hedge and spin their truth.
Paul said to think on things true, noble, right,
and more, but truth came first.
Knowing the truth will set us free.
Truth is stranger than fiction.
Truth evolves. I can tell the truth,
the real truth, and in the telling
grow, evolve, move toward perfection
another millimeter, and in my growth
the truth progresses, illuminates,
refines so the truth told, still true,
can be stated further, clarified,
and as long as I tell the truth,
as long as I hear and digest the truth,
the principle, the depth, the excellence
expands, perfects.

Not Here

Meeting Leader:  What you hear here, whom you see here, when you leave here, let it stay here.
Group Response:  Hear! Hear!

We bare our souls, say to strangers
what we would hesitate to confess
to priest or counselor.
We show our face, tell our fears,
confess our defects to competitors,
to our children's teachers, to police —
and fear no repercussions, no blame.
Close friends meet in public, greet,
talk of normal things,
find difficult the query,
"How do you know each other?"
Two connect in the rooms, bond —
ask last names for wedding invitations.
We nod across a crowded room,
go about the activity with folks
we barely know, avoid gravitating
to our friend to maintain the curtain,
to protect the secrets of our insanity
and the hope of what we've found.

An Addict's Mind

I knew from that moment that I had an alcoholic mind. ~ Alcoholics Anonymous (Kindle Location 685)

I don't want to be a normal eater.
I don't want to wander through a buffet,
get three things, try a bite of each,
and declare myself full. No,
I want to live up to the dare, ​All you can eat!
I have other issues than food, being compulsive,
period. Fears, resentments, defects
run rampant, bopping up like rodents,
a constant game of Whack-a-mole.
It really is a disease, a dis-ease
an ailment and affliction,
making life unmanageable.
Yes, I'm an addict with an addict's mind.
Thank goodness!
I wouldn't want to miss out
on Recovery.

Haiku Bill W

With a nod to Carlos Colón aka Haiku Elvis.

Hopeless...
Silkwood. Ebby.
Jigsaw thoughts.

Why recall sot's
odd epitaph
decades later?

Drunks discard
stunning news
that's changing me

you guys didn't
nor did I write it
but God did 

An Akron drunk
to keep me sober
but so much more 

Continued

The tenth step begins with the word “continued,” our first clue that perseverance is about to become a key aspect of our recovery program. ~ The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous (Kindle Locations 963-964).

Daddy always said,
"There's nothing new
and improved,"
but don't we keep trying?
Enough of this meal plan.
It's boring – I deserve a change.
I'm tired of reporting my food,
of weighing and measuring.
If I don't know four ounces by sight
by now, there's something wrong.
I've read all the "approved"
books – this one's surely as good,
and it speaks to me.
They say, "More will be revealed"
so how will I know it if I don't try
more ways of doing this?

Sigh. I know better. Boring is better
than bingeing. "What we really have 
is a daily reprieve contingent
on the maintenance of our spiritual condition."

 

Willing. Not Wanting To.

We need to remember, however, that we can be willing to do something we don’t want to do. ~ The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous (Kindle Locations 872-873).

Willing to make amends,
to admit my fault, to make it right.
Willing. Prepared...can be eager,
inclined, amenable to, a volunteer
but can be dreading, hating the idea,
anxious, even terrified. But willing.
Knowing full well sometimes
the best way out is through.
And trusting our sponsor's guidance,
ready to face the consequences,
knowing sometimes the piper
must be paid. But we made a decision.
A big one. We turned our will and our lives
over to the God of our understanding,
every day, one at a time, trusting.
And he is trustworthy,
he won't lead us into a place
where he's not there with us.

The Lord's Prayer Incarnate

We're the Lord's Prayer incarnate. We have certainly trespassed against each other. ~  Pete Townshend about Roger Daltrey

Offensive. Blasphemous. Sacrilege.
Won't God be offended?
Don't we wear our offenses,
our trespasses, around our necks,
a fetter to our past, to our sins?
How can we presume to find kinship
with the almighty, the creator,
the everlasting, omnipotent, the one?
Like the woman caught in adultery,
when other sinners would stone her
the Power does not condemn
but loves. Like the thief on the cross
pardoned for asking, whether he understood
or not, welcomed. Like Paul said
that nothing – not death, not life,
not angels, principalities, powers —
not our inadequacies and failures
can separate us. Truly we are
The Lord's Prayer in the flesh.

The Joy of Jumping In

I have experienced the joy of jumping in without self-consciousness and rising to my own and others’ expectations. ~ For Today (Kindle Location 2703)

Standing on the sidelines is safe,
protected, unobtrusive... disappointing.
Jumping in is fearsome, intimidating,
terrifying, unnerving... exhilarating.
Memoirs don't exalt wallflowering,
a toe in the water makes no memories.
I have talents I never dreamed of
and a Power directing my life
fully aware I'd sell myself short
given the chance, not propelled
to real life.
 

Easy!

 Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. It is not up in heaven, so that you have to ask, “Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, “Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it. ~ Deuteronomy 30:11-14 (NIV)

God told Moses, "It's easy,
quit making it so hard."
God says we need no miracles,
have no call to visit faraway lands,
to figure out logistics,
to move heaven and earth
to do what he tells us.
Like for Moses, the answer for me
is, "It's easy. Quit making it hard."
But when I try with all my might,
when I white-knuckle it through,
when I resolve to do it and well...
that's when it's hard, for I can't get there
of my own volition, even if there
is right here inside me. 

Persevere to Recovery

My stubbornness is becoming perseverance. ~ Chris

A fundamental flaw they call it,
stubbornness – one of seven chief flaws,
a feature dominating a personality.
Always negative, by nature.
Not like most traits, those going either way,
stubbornness is to be stifled, overcome,
shunned as an Achille's heel.
Resistance to change, good, bad, just different,
No, no no! You can't make me, I won't!What do they know? Stubbornness comes from fear,
homesteads in a heart. But persistent, permanent,
irrevocable, it's not. Not when Recovery
can find positive stubbornness
and call it perseverance.

 

Explain vs. Experience

I can't explain it the way you can experience it. ~ Vernetta Howell

I can tell my story,
what it was like, what happened,
the miracle that is now.
I can describe the meetings,
the people, the sense of finally
coming home – at last —
to the place you've never been.
I can relate the sense of peace,
the difference in not being eaten up
with fear, with resentment, with hatred.
I can lionize recovery, the phenomenon
of finally living, of victory,
of  love and understanding
beyond my wildest dreams – and yours!
But none of it will change you, will rescue you
like the experience of living it yourself.

What Did I Say?

You asked several times what I said
and words came out, flowed from my mouth,
bypassing the brain. Hurtful words, I guess.
You took offense... or did you pretend?
Did you hear just fine and feign offense
so I'd be wrong or at least believe you thought
me wrong? How much is an act, a farce,
your not wanting to be involved and hanging it
on me? I didn't feel hateful, spoke innocently,
felt no malice. But maybe it's time for amends.
What did I do? How can I make amends
beyond a generalized mea culpa? 
I guess the time has come for living amends
when I can't even remember what I said.
Anyway, tomorrow will be better.

The Voice of God

Get out of my way and I'll tell you how to breathe miracles. ~ Dexter (quoting God)

The voice of God
speaks in our heads,
from the mouths of folk
we had no intention
to hear say anything,
in the passage next
when it's our turn to read...
The voice of God
could be coincidence,
karma, an ironic joke.
But when we're open,
when we really mean
Your will, not mine
then we know – no doubt —
that's what it is,
the voice of God.

Little Boons

On this hand a thumbs up
for safe travel, for technology.
Disappointments could intrude,
could rob the day of glad —
bumps in the road, hiccups.
Computer froze, missed good stuff,
might be there to ferret out, maybe.
But good stuff was heard, shared.
Planes were late, but they did fly,
arriving safely late.
Hey, free night in pleasant place,
folks to share the ride.
A touch of freshly odd.
Sane life, not knocked ajar
by a different path to take.