Good Stewardship

Why would I give you more abilities if you're not willing to use the ones you've got? (God, through David S.)

What ability am I supposed to be using, then?
I thought I was to accept help, to not be stubborn
but let people assist. Evidently not, at least as to the door
I stand and knock on. I'm to "man" up, play strong,
believe I'm tough when tears come easier.
I want to scream I can't do it, but what do I know?
I'm new here in vulnerable, in pity-party, in scared —
well, this kind of scared. Okay. I'm not in charge.
It's not just new, creative abilities we're talking about.
It's faith, trust, knowing what I have will last long enough,
It's depending onProvidence to be prudent, a good steward.

Winning

Thank you, thank you...
I feel special, more than willing
to praise others.

Darn it, darn it,
how shallow can they get,
excluding me, looking elsewhere.

Happy me, grateful me,
knowing this day I walked the walk,
listened, seeking HP's will for me,
willing to dare past fear,
accepting victory or face-falling,
knowing I remained in tune
with the cosmos, in place
as promises blossomed
to wondrous.

Nolo Contendere

I've learned that for every condition in our lives, there’s a need for it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have it... Guilt always seeks punishment and leads to pain. ~ Louise L. Hay, Heal Your Body (Kindle Locations 138-139, 146)

Guilt lingers heavy from the past,
not particularly deserved, but claimed,
adopted, possessed to the hilt. I know years
of judgment imposed weren't fair,
but I owned them by default.
Then guilt came from playing the wimp,
accepting blame falsely.
Blame became shame
for gutlessly being imposed upon.
For sticking on when sanity demanded
claiming self-respect.
Loneliness sought addictive comfort
in food, in games, in research, in busy-ness
as insanity beat me down for seeking solace
in false gods. Am I guilty? Only of feeling guilt,
of welcoming punishment, of needing
assurance of clemency.
"Not guilty" I claim on needing pain.
An accomplice, though, in
justice miscarried.

Peace

Peace I ask of thee, oh river
Peace, peace, peace
When I learn to live serenely
Cares will cease. 

From the hills I gather courage
Visions of the days to be
Strength to lead and faith to follow
All are given unto me. (Traditional)

Those aren't the words I grew up with.
Men learn to live together, wars cease?
This may be harder, me living serenity.
Bettsy sits here, watching eagles in Iowa.
My idea of back-to-nature is a blacktop trail
around a park. But snapdragons
at  the country club, clouds piled above a road,
gentle rain and blustering wind, the river and hills
nudge in. I lie in bed, seek God's healing peace
to swirl around and feel the power. And it comes.
Thank God, nature finds me.

Let It Go

[G]ive yourself five minutes three times a day to sit quietly and just breathe deeply and say, “I release and let go. I let forgiveness flow. I am free. It feels so good to let go.” ~ Louise Hay

I've clung to control,
wresting at life's wheel
to force my will, to win,
to prove my worth.
I've gripped people,
tasks, situations,
strangling others,
committing my hands
to this no matter what
that may be. I claim
to have decided to turn
my life and will over
to the universe, creation,
creator. Then I lock
the wheel as surely
as a clamp.

Why Bother?

I'm tired, uninspired,
have nothing to say.
Why should I laboriously type
some message of hope I have to force
just because I promised 294 days ago
to do it each day?
My hand is throbbing. Oops.
Not enough pain pills means
too few antibiotics.
It's all perspective.
I'm loved, cared for, worried about.
I'm love enough to be prodded
toward right action my family,
my friends, by HP.
Had I not started this
I'd have ended the day
more pills behind.
I need to meditate again,
welcome healing to my body.
I needed to do a Tenth Step,
to review the day,
find perspective,
recover. I'm glad I bothered,
glad I've bothered 295 days
day by day.

Beginning

“Love yourself.”
Easy advice?
An infant does.
How natural, how right.
“Love yourself as you are.”
Damaged goods.
Ugly surface.
Gruesome inside.
“If you don’t love yourself fat
you won’t love yourself thin.”
How about pride? Will haughty do?
“Love yourself.”
Others love me. Others hold me high.
“Love yourself.”
I love what I’ve done, what I’ve given, what I am.
“Love yourself as you are.”
The Master said to
become as a little child.
I love myself.
Lord, let it be true.
I am young.
I am new.
I can learn.

Universal

What is most personal is most universal. ~ Carl Rogers

I sit here, pour out my soul,
and you think I peeked into yours.
Truth be told what feels most wholly mine
is the essence of the whole cloth
from which we each are cut.

Trying and Trying

When we’re tried all the tries we can try
and just false hope and ego survive
when throne-sitter and toady mirror disdain
and existence for each is a bane
when to keep on augers more of the same
then is the time for radical…DIFFERENCE!

Best Way Out

Sometimes the best way out is through. ~ Bryan Bradbury, 1912-1988

Surrendered. No longer in control.
I show up, work hard, do the next right thing.
Fear’s still there, sometimes nabbing me
so I still intend to take big bold steps
but tomorrow will do, I didn’t today, I will…
Surrendered. No longer in control.
I’m okay if that comes through closing doors,
through diminished capacities to keep on
with my chosen next right things.
If his will for me plows through the fear —
let’s see what’s on the other side.

Strange...

When one is a stranger to oneself then one is estranged from others too. ~ Anne Morrow Lindberg

The oracle at Delphi said know thyself.Could a seer now know if Delphi

understood that as impossible

in a vacuum?

Peace

It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace. ~ Chuck Palahniuk, Diary

God is good.
Friendship is a warm blanket.
People offer kindness,
nascent community.
Pain fades as the good
in people overwhelms it.
Thanks be to my warm blanket.

Fully Alive

The twelfth step invites us to continue the journey one day at a time for the rest of our lives. We need to keep moving forward in recovery, keep developing our spiritual consciousness, if we are to remain spiritually awake and fully alive. (The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous, Kindle Locations 1153-1155)

Fully alive. Funny this should be the draft
I would have worked from last night.
Instead of writing poetry I was recovering
from surgery, morphine dripping to ward off life.
Or at least pain, agony. But alive I am, in spades.
My first ambulance ride, my first real crisis
living alone, an awareness I was counseled
Monday to meditate more. And now,
hours past the morphine I find myself aware,
alive, ready to crash through metaphysical doors
and leave the physical ones alone. And grateful
for good neighbors, kind friends, and skilled
caregivers.

Mature Love

Infantile love follows the principle: I love because I am loved.
Mature love follows the principle: I am loved because I love.  (Erich Fromm)

 Jesus said it, if you reciprocate love,
so what? Who wouldn't do that?
But love enemies, rivals, perpetrators?
How special is that? How unexpected?
And how can it happen? It's not my nature.
But that's the point. My nature, my will,
my impulses made me insane, unable to cope,
hopeless. But a power greater than that,
greater than I, managed to love me,
the repugnant, at my worst.
And when my will's laid aside,
when I manage to say, to mean,
not my will, but his, his kind of love
lives in me. And all the love I give
radiates right back
to me.

Food that Soothes Souls

Those who are prone to stuff themselves with food that makes their bodies unsightly are refusing the food that satisfies and soothes the unhappy soul within. [Overeaters Anonymous, Voices of Recovery (Kindle Locations 543-544). Kindle Edition.]

Jesus talked of food that spoils
and food enduring for eternity,
for life, the Bread of Life.
We have abundance, like Israel
gathering manna, vexed, bitter.
We cling to the cookies that soothed
toddler tears, knowing long ago
they turned on us, don't work,
won't sooth – unless  stupefied counts.
Like the crowd by the lake
quizzing Jesus, we conclude,
“Sir, always give us this bread.”

[John 6:25-59]

Redirection

I run

to get things done

tripping over feelings

getting nothing done until I

slow down

Pervasive Fear

...he was scared most of the time, but he’d entered a place where the concept of fear had ceased to have any meaning because fear was always present, either as a whisper or a scream. ~ Michael Connolly, The Whisperer

Omnipresent fear.
The Big Book calls it
a short word touching
most every aspect
of my life. Oh, yes. Fear.
Terror, procrastination,
dread, panic, anxiety,
disease – a constant diet
of fear. A whisper usually.
A scream, too often.
Still, I’ve choices.
I can dwell in it
or allow it to camp out,
ignored, overlooked,
in me. It walks out front,
I trip over it. I walk boldly,
leaving fear to trail behind,
my dust chokes it off.

Worldly Sorrow

Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. (II Corinthians 7:8-10, NIV)

Worldly sorrow looks at me,
my hurts, my embarrassment,
my regrets. Worldly sorrow
totes recriminations, jealousies,
comparisons where I project
my place elevated, superior —
while I feel like coffee dregs.

Godly sorrow sees my part
as is, no larger, no smaller,
honest. Godly sorrow mends,
heals, unites. Sometimes I shine,
but unity radiates other lights,
leaves no regret.

A Tad Out of Reach

He’s eight months old today,
pulling chest up, sometimes
toes on floor, sometimes knees,
most often chest. He wants to crawl,
wants to move forward, gives up,
settles for rolling sideways.
She’s Mom, sitting on the floor,
encouraging, talking, loving.
She places a toy or pacifier
an inch away from tiny arm’s length
cheering him on, rooting for him,
supporting every move.
Nature’s rule, he will crawl.
Parent’s nurturing, he’ll reach goal
sooner, feeling better about himself,
wrapped in love.

God knows I’ll grow, develop,
move forward, that I desire it,
try for it. He helps me do it myself
by loving me forward,
inch by inch, increment on increment,
sooner with his presence, his guidance,
wrapped in his love.

Scoff or Pray

I earnestly advise every alcoholic to read this book through, and though perhaps he came to scoff, he may remain to pray. (Alcoholics Anonymous, The Doctor’s Opinion) 

Come on in. welcome!
We’re glad you’re here.
Yes, I understand how that word
“God” stuck in the steps
can be off-putting, a damper.
Stick around, though,
for a while, a few meetings —
long enough to get the feel.
Maybe you’re right.
We won’t argue. Prove us wrong
if you wish. Many of us felt
just like that when we came.
Heck, I did myself. But somehow,
over time, it quit mattering.
I didn’t mind the folk,
for they were kind, accepting,
made me feel like I belonged.
Somehow, and not too long
from when I came,
it felt so good to be here,
I’d forgotten what it was
that seemed so wrong.

Considering Recovery

They start by praying for serenity

then talk of unmanageable lives, of surrender
to a power greater than me, of no grand plans, but day
by day being honest with myself and facing my fear.
They say it's not religious but it is spiritual,
this plan of recovery step by step.

You know, easy as it sounds, it's a big step
to walk into these rooms when serenity

is some distant pipe dream and "spiritual"

makes me want to run away, not surrender,
and I'd like to say I don't need this, have no fear,

but truth be told, I battle many fears each day.

They don't ask for commitments -- just this day

take a chance, want to lose obsession, a baby step

at a time. And while even that is enough to cause fear

it's not as though if I didn't face this monster serenity

would be my lot. I've tried that, tried by surrender

to the easy path, relying on me, denying anything spiritual.

Why should I be so scared of that word "spiritual?"

They say the scary part of my memories back in the days

I had to go to church, I can set aside, don't have to surrender

to the God the preacher talked about, hellfire, vengeance - just step

toward being willing to think one greater could give serenity

to me, could give me peace to replace these constant fears.

Can there possibly be peace from the ever-present fear?

I've known people who seem to have none, spiritual

folks whose lives at least from the outside seem all serenity

and peace, who actually wake up ready to greet each day,

who walk around the whole day through, a bounce in their step.

Now that's a picture of life that could lead me to surrender.

So, the fears I'm more than willing to surrender --

I'd go to 'most any length to get rid of the constant fear,

and as to unmanageable, yep, that's me, it seems I step

into the muck even when I try my best. And a spiritual

being? I can take the fact good people believe, at least today,

and I'm willing to do that if it really can lead to serenity.

So I guess I'll try their Steps and find a god to whom I can surrender

and act as if until their serenity really takes over, managing my fear,

and I might just find I feel spiritual, accepting it all, for today.

Self-Seeker

 Is he not really a self-seeker even when try­ ing to be kind? (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 61)

I bend over backwards for you —
can't you see I am the best thing
that ever happened to you?
I rewrite your manuscript
to make is shine, to make it
like mine. To make it mine
at least in my mind.
Look at me, how much I give,
how humble I am, how piously
I live. Look at me. I model this life.
Don't I deserve the happiness
they all talk about?

Like Life

If you can, try to like life. Be good humored about your mortality. (William J. Bennett)

A theoretical pessimist, he says he is,
recommending we exercise practical optimism.
Is that doctor-of-philosophy talk for act as if?
Try to like life. Look on the sunny side.
Say with Paul, "I've learned to be content
no matter where I am." I guess theoretical
pessimism says the world will end, sooner, later;
I'll die, one day, maybe today, maybe not;
stuff – sometimes called excrement – happens.
Worry's a rocking chair, keeping you busy,
getting you nowhere. It gives small stuff
immense shadows. I can expect good results
as easy – easier – than bad. I can turn the pessimism,
the worry, over to God. He's going to be up
all night, anyway. What, me worry?
Not today. I'll like life.

Post-it® Notes

Inspirational quotes such as, “Leap and the net will appear,” were scribbled on Post-Its and stuck everywhere. (manuscript I’m reading for evaluation purposes.) 

Life, stuffed full of Post-it® notes
that motivate, mystify, obfuscate,
inspiration in a comment, a dictum,
a scribbled note I’ve saved for eternity
or the next blog post, whichever comes
first. Better yet if I could read them.
I’m accustomed to handwriting
illegible even to me. But the smart phone
misbehaves as well, yielding notes like
“sing to the whales bring up oh well.”
Then again, a jewel pops up,
a scrap of paper meant for now.
“Solitude, the anthesis of seclusion,”
or “Just because its hard doesn’t mean
I’ve done anything wrong,” or
“Worry is a rocking chair.
It keeps you busy but gets you
nowhere.” “Willpower means
‘Will you give up your power?’”
It’s like little notes from a loved one
exactly what you need at the time,
knowing you left them for yourself.

Where We Stood Up

Stand up or stand-up in a military sense, is United States military terminology or jargon which means to formally activate and commission a unit, formation or command structure. The inverse would be to "stand down" the unit, which means to deactivate or decommission it. (Wikipedia)

Where we stood up,
accepted responsibility,
became who we were destined
to become. Where we admitted
our personal weaknesses,
acknowledged the strength
of the whole, drew a line
in sands of history.
Individually we stand up,

proudly carrying on torches
passed down by founders,
carried through decades
by weak addicts made powerful
because years ago, someone
stood up, then someone else,
until as a community of addicts
we became and continue
as the community that stood up.

Completely

Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 58)

Utterly, absolutely, without reserve —
completely...completely give myself.
Like marriage? Like becoming a nun?
Like volunteering for the military, at least
wholly for the term of enlistment.
Completely give myself to this simple...
Simple. Uncomplicated, straightforward,
elementary, easy as ABC, piece of cake?
Oops. A piece of cake isn't simple.
Not in the making, not in the consuming,
at least for folks with a compulsion
about sugar, an allergy to it, an addiction.
But isn't that simple, too? An addiction.
If you're allergic to peaches, don't eat them.
If you're allergic to bee stings, don't go there.
Allergy equals no. Simple, unadorned no.
Completely give oneself to this simple program
means an absolute "No, keep out of my life,
I don't do that!" to the allergen.
Honest to goodness, honest to God,
honest to ME, "get thee behind me!"

I'm Alive

I’m alive. And I will live...until I die.
I could have a terminal disease
or feel on top of the world, in control,
and it just  doesn't matter. I am alive now,
here, this moment. Maybe the wolves
stand howling at the door or perhaps
it's a red cow – how did that become
a symbol of hope? It's not that I want
to experience the song, hoping some day
each person could live like he's dying.
It's not that I need to plan and complete
a bucket list. I just need to know, at soul-level,
I'm alive now, here, today. I will live today,
just for today, with a consciousness that
today is all I have, but I have today.
I'm alive. And I will live...until I die. 

Sing to the Well

Then Israel sang this song:
“Spring up, O well!
Sing about it,
about the well that the princes dug,
that the nobles of the people sank —
the nobles with scepters and staffs.” (Numbers 20:17-18, NIV)

Israel gritched and griped,
grumbling of bad water,
slow flowing water,
lack of water, dried-up wells.
Israel rebelled, revolted,
kicked against, defied God.
But when they ceased to quarrel,
when they sang to the dry well,
water flowed.

I’ve gritched and griped,
grumbled of bad luck,
of miracles falling short,
lacking glory. I’ve rebelled,
kicked against God,
tried to do it myself,
believed I could do better.
When I sang of joy, feeling none,
when I accepted good,
blessings flowed.

One-On-One

God with me,

one-on-one

coming back home

where I've never been before.

God with me,

one-on-one.

Who would have thought

he'd single me out,

talk to me,

be with me

one-on-one.

What peace, what love,

what serenity, joy, glory.

What am I, who am I

that God could love me

one-on-one?

Intolerance

Intolerant, you say? Well, we were frightened. Naturally, we began to act like most everybody does when afraid. After all, isn't fear the true basis of intolerance? Yes, we were intolerant. (The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 140)

Bigotry from fear.
Ku Klux Klan trembling
from inherent suspicion
of quality, of merit, of worth.
Holocaust emblematic
of bravado, of hatred
fearing merit, industriousness,
chutzpah. Bullies, homophobes,
chauvinists, panphobics
quiver in terror that others
may discern insecurity
disguised as dominance.

I know fear, know the instinct
to cringe, to bluster, to pretend
to know, fake confidence.
I know fear and have learned
to act anyway, to examine
the sensation, ask removal
and knowledge of who
I am to be. I will not tolerate
being imprisoned by fear.

Courage and Prudence

Boldness to barge ahead,
wisdom to discern course,
gutsy enough to dare,
sagaciousness sufficient to pause.
Fearless? Unlikely.
Plowing past panic, 
the essence of recovery,
the beginning of heaven.

Sought and Found

I found him! I win!
Clever, how hidden
he was, out in the open
where I thought I’d looked
but like those puzzles
when words are secluded
in random letters in
plain sight but darned near
impossible to spot!
You told me I wasn’t looking
for the God of my childhood
or that of the TV preacher
but could make up my own
and sure enough
when I knew what
I wanted to find
there he was,
waiting for me,
rooting for me.

Don't Let Go of Me

I hurt, I ache,
I'm alone no matter
who may crowd around.
It's been so these long years —
I know you understand,
feel it in your hug,
see it in your eyes.
We stand, hold hands,
ready to leave.
Don't  make me go.
We stand, talk, you share
of power that holds you,
comforts. I feel it,
tremble with the jolt.
The power's hug as warm,
as real. I want to shout
loud, strong, "Don't ever let  go!"

Finding a Larger Mirror

Denigrated by mother,
pummeled by life and love,
full of self-loathing
that converts camera
and mirror to weapons
crushing her spirit,
a question, unexpected,
dredges abuse, looses tears.
Healing begins, courage
to open to probing, to words.
Daring to acknowledge
personal worth, to concede
inner value, she braves
a larger mirror, a tad more
introspection. A possibility
of worthiness.

Reliance, Not Defiance

No man, we saw, could believe in God and defy him, too. Belief meant reliance, not defiance. (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 31)

Defiance – bold, brash
disobedience. The stuff
of damnation, of bitter,
angry god. But I don't believe
in that kind of God.
Defiant, though, you don't care.
You don't believe, don't
know.

Reliance – faith, trust,
dependence. The stuff
of servitude, of bondage,
of subjection to God's power.
Who wants bondage,
dependence, weakness?
Helplessly craving God
beats other addictions
I've known.

Paying Tribute

I was powerless over food
when I came to these rooms.
No longer, though.
I guess you can say
I bought my way out.
I pay tribute to a power
way greater than I,
and every day I invest
that way, food fails
to pull me away.

Shadows

Gossamer wraiths
of ancient wrongs hover,
sometimes distant,
others riding
my shoulders,
no real weight,
just that of the woes
of the world. They drive
away serenity, rouse self-pity,
entwine my thoughts,
build fear to bonfires.
They shudder, though,
when inventory and a sponsor's
perspective bring out the light
and make them disappear.

Invitation or Obligation?

I need to go to church,
have failed to time after time —
"next week" which becomes
seldom, almost never.
I need to go to church,
it's the right thing to do.
I was raised in church,
have lived in church, forever
until now. The rules say,
"It's Sunday. Go to church."

What if church were not
an obligation? What if the need
was to be with my God,
with his people, with my kind?
What if obligation
became invitation? 

I'm Possible

Nothing is impossible. The word itself says ‘I’m possible!’ ~ Audrey Hepburn

Hopeless, impossible lives
led us to these rooms.
Here we found acceptance,
understanding, friendly faces,
kind eyes. Taking proffered hands,
we inched out of the pit, a handhold,
a solid rock to climb on. Stories
of sordid lives garnering respect,
of miracles among us spurned
taking action, sensible or not,
doing as others, acting as if.
Actions, oh-so-minimal,
spurred courage, weakened fear,
until hopeless had become hope
and impossible, I’m possible.

act as if

I don’t know what I trust in precisely, but it doesn’t matter; I have faith that it works. (Voices of Recovery, Kindle Locations 240-241)

Deist, theist,
baptist, buddhist,
puritan, zen,
zoroastrian.
Catholic, heretic,
pegan, shaman.
hindu, voodoo.
We believe, in fits
and starts,
passionate or
recalcitrant.
Credence comes hard
for some, like trust
for most. All’s well.
Belief is fine —
when it comes.
Meanwhile just know
you’re not god,
and playact
you’re not
our only hope.

Chain Latch on the Door

Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me. (Revelation 3:20 NASB)

"I offer myself to Thee."
Sure, I took the Third Step.
Go ahead, build with me.
Do with me as you want.
Get rid of my bondage
to me, my bondage to food.
I'm here to do your will,
though surely you know
I'm busy, have so many
of your children who rely
on me. I'm already doing
your work. I know
you're using me, showing
my victories over addiction
to others as inspiration.
Just remove the rest
of these difficulties,
and we'll have it made,
you and me. What?
Take off the chain?
Open the door wide?
You'd put me in bondage
to you to set me free?
Surely you jest!

Willpower

Willpower is God asking, "Will you give up your power?" - Josh C.

We gathered, some eagerly,
some going through the motions,
doing the work despite emotions
pulling elsewhere.

We assembled, reading words
familiar, comforting, habitual
sliding over the words, yet hearing
pointed phrases.

We recalled love-deprived cribs,
house-to-house grazing,
angry sons, serial drive-throughs,
one story shared.

We spoke of powerlessness, insanity,
debacles of willing normality.
We lamented teeth-gritted willpower
crashing, shattered again.

We delighted in solutions realized
looking up from deep pits
to a presence always part of us,
who will when we can't.

Laughter

Humor is a prelude to faith and Laughter is the beginning of prayer. (Reinhold Niebuhr)

Don't take yourself
so dog-gone seriously!
Who are you to think you
can change anything,
anybody, even you?
Jesus says you can't
change a hair's color.
Chemicals aside.
The Psalms say God laughs.
People laughed at Jesus.
We can go along with feeling
the laughingstock,
but so naming
others so we won't be.
Or we can find the joy
and laugh with no object,
no derision, just giddyness.
And giddy, giggling, rollicking,
finding God comes more naturally.
Could that be because
God is laughter, joy?

Out of Control

Why am I looking for the middle ground? Because I don’t have control on the other two that are available to me. If accept spiritual help, I’m out of control. If I'm going on to the bitter end blotting out the intolerable condition I'm in, I’m out of control. (Clint H.) 

I’m in control,
hear me roar!
Stand aside and see me,
watch what I can do.
Step back,
I don’t need you.
Can’t you see
it’s a complex whole,
that ceding power causes seams?
It’s not arrogance
if you’re right!
You know I do it well!
I’m in control.

No. I need to know
I’m out of control
when God’s not really
the one who’s in control.

Procrastination

–Procrastination is not laziness. It is fear. ~ Julia Cameron

Fear lurks, a cur disciplined,
aware who's boss, but surly.
It's hard, you know, when years
on years he ruled, controlling me.
Retraining him, drilling me —
in some way we both savor same,
regret reeducation. But plowing through,
sneering at the mangy mutt,
it's worth the pain, the strain,
to growl, "Procrastination! Heel!"
and see him cave.

Frustration

Deadline looms.

"You are not connected

to the Internet."

Crisis. Disaster.

I've a dozen hours

to get it done,

don't have to sleep

but a few of them.

The world's not ending.

Power's all around.

Batteries and towers

not needed. Power's

out there, in here,

everywhere.

I can stay connected

to the universe.

The world's not ending.

Neither Earned Nor To Be Spurned

Free means worthless,
cheap means trash.
I'll pay my way
or go away. Charity
offends, degrades,
scorns me
despite good intent.

Sometimes, though,
I can't carry my own,
must own up to hopeless,
helpless, powerless.
Then the largesse itself
conveys respect,
equality, God's favor
neither earned
nor to be spurned,
the gift of grace. 

Numbered Days

 Teach us to number our days,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12, NIV)

All I have is today,
and should I falter,
I start again, here, now,
not waiting
for tomorrow,
or Monday,
or the year's first day.
Yet though I can begin
again – and again —
and yet again,
I lose if that's a crutch.
What's lost?
A history of sanity,
a sense of continuity,
a confidence in growth,
a pattern of peace.

Free Time

Time is free, but it's priceless. You can't own it, but you can use it. You can't keep it, but you can spend it. Once you've lost it, you can never get it back. ~ Harvey MacKay

Hours, minutes, seconds – limited,
just so many in a day,
yet free for taking, but act fast.
If you miss, it's gone, never to be reclaimed.
Free time, up for grabs,
nab some handfuls,
yet let it linger, ignored,
only to find it evaporated.
Use time wisely,
important commitments,
moving toward goals,
or holding a child's hand,
watching a cloud evolve,
or centering, internalizing
the joy of having
priceless time free. 

Trivial

In a weak moment he may take your dislike of his high-stepping friends as one of those insanely trivial excuses to drink. (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 120)

 Heck if I know,
and that's the truth.
It's not the big things
that throw me off,
not the boulders
seemingly blocking
super highways
but pebbles on
footpaths. It's not
high-stepping friends
nor social occasions
where etiquette requires,
not even tragedies...
Nope. It's plowing through
faux pas, forgetting
appointments, unshared
joy. It's not the excuse
but the weak moment,
the head not prepared
for dumb stray thoughts. 

Not Invited

I remember not being invited
because it seemed like my life.
You'd leave as a group as I stayed,
longing to be one of you.
I remember when I learned
nobody invited you, either,
and I was welcome.
You thought I was content,
didn't need you,
didn't want my company,
that you weren't invited
to stay. 

Spherically

You have to live Spherically, in many directions and never loose your childish enthusiasm and then things will come your way. (Under the Tuscan Sun)

How do you live spherically?
I can certainly go around 
getting nowhere. That goes
to the edge of the circle 
of insanity, though,
not beyond boundaries of the sphere.
Spherically is all over the place,
but not cluttered, not hodgepodge.
Broad, comprehensive, sweeping. 
Living spherically is believing
the unfathomable, trusting 
divine providence, expecting
phenomenal. Living spherically
is promises fulfilled
beyond my wildest dreams. 

Life as it Really Is

When life as it really is becomes a fact that I accept as naturally as I breathe, events lose their power… (For Today, page 6)

We see through glass darkly —
murky or naively pink-tinged
pigments impede vision equally.
Paul said, though, maturity happens.
Glass clears. Life as life is?
Don’t do for others because
you feel sorry for them,
don’t expect acclaim unearned,
don’t assume control when God
seems distracted. Accept limitations,
recognize glass ceilings break,
Know power isn’t in what happens
but in the power in charge.

Powerless

I've tried, really tried,

yet to sooth the savage beast

eludes me. Why? Tell me why!

Others can! So why should 

this craving mock me, shame me,

crush my soul? Others stroll

from the beast, a whimpering kitten

in their lives though they've indulged

with the rest of us, partied just as hard. 

Am I so weak, so deficient? 

Where's my will-power? 

I'm sick to death of this addiction,

ready to give up. 

You say there's hope just because

I give up? That I'm sick but it need not be

to death? So tell me. I'm ready to hear you.

Easy Doesn't Do It

Just because its hard doesn’t mean I’ve done anything wrong. ~ David S. 

When I’m naughty,
refusing to follow rules,
then fair’s fair, and easy
feels wrong, feels undeserved,
frightens me.

When I’m nice,
walking the steps
doing the work,
submitting to leadership,
then easy’s easy to take,
for I deserve it.

I don’t get what I deserve.
Thank God, for I deserve
three days in the electric chair.
When I feel easy’s due
and get hard, I feel cheated,
misunderstood. But those times
perhaps the hard is there
to break through to a new good
to knock down barriers.
It doesn’t mean I’ve misunderstood,
that I really haven’t been aligned.
It can mean good is just around the bend.
Or not. It’s not about rewards.
Not about what’s due.
It’s about life, love, being.

Hope Is the Risk

Hope is the risk that must be run. ~ George Bernanos

To run the risk – exposing self
to possibly unpleasantness.
Hope is the risk;
the risk is hope.
Risk, a word sprung
from danger.
So is danger ancestor
to hope? How deep the kinship?
Risk, hope - how deep the kinship! 

Twenty Seconds of Insane Courage

Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally, twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery and I promise you, something great will come of it.  ~ We Bought a Zoo

Insane courage.
Embarrassing bravery.
Twenty seconds.
An old lawyer,
thirty-plus years ago
listening to facts
of a hopeless case,
shaking his head,
saying, "Sometimes
the best way out
is through."
A few months ago
another wise man
gave me advice.
I'm thinking about it.
Driving there's
a lot longer than
twenty seconds.
But the hard part...
yeah. Twenty seconds
would cover it.
But I'm scared.
And that's the point. 

To Save Himself

How he does cherish the thought that man, risen so majestically from a single cell in the primordial ooze, is the spearhead of evolution and therefore the only god that his universe knows! Must he renounce all this to save himself? (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 25)

Primordial ooze never wriggled into
my cherished thoughts, but other,
less dramatic, less primeval goo —
like cookie dough, ice cream,
cream cheese frosting – sure has.
Sometimes stupid things play god,
demand respect as manifest destiny,
convince us we "deserve" them
when they're false gods, wanting only
to bring us down, make us less that planned,
less than possible with a real God
greater than goo, primordial or
confectionary. The universe knows
we can't save ourselves through ooze.

Hogmanay

I drink to the hope that the friends of youth may be companions in old age. ~ Robert Burns

Sixty-five years after Bob’s steady girl moved away,
he used the Internet to locate Claire. Today
I led them through their wedding vows.
We connect on social media with friends
and kin we’ve not seen in decades,
bind close to folk we’ve never seen.
Auld land syne, old long since,
we rejoice in friendship bonds,
in ties. Yet addicts, loners,
often hide in pixel-talk, in online chat.
Let us reach out not only with head
and hands, but find a way to claim
real hugs, physical touch, to bind
our open wounds and soothe aching scars.