If Food Would Help...

Gut-punched, I step in gingerly
feeling the extent of damage
like I inch into a swimming pool.
Plenty bad, embarrassing but manageable.
I sit, wanting to lash out, wanting vengeance
but for what? How could that help?
Established patterns remind me
of solace-seeking in the kitchen and beyond, 
friendly anonymous drive-throughs,
but why? If food would help, maybe,
but I've tested those waters long enough.
I know they compound, don't console.
Instead, I talk to trusted confidants,
allow time to sit here, to absorb and release.
Then I repair damage, remind myself
of facts I knew – know –  resolve to remember
and move on to life worth living,
friends worth trusting, to recovery.

No Matter What

I love you, period.
I wish you well no matter what.
I hurt with your disappointments,
swell with pride for your triumphs.
I see your growth and weaknesses
and don't always approve your choices
but love remains, unchanged. 

First Do No Harm

Be certain he will be welcomed by your family, and that he is not trying to impose upon you for money, connections, or shelter. Permit that and you only harm him. You will be making it possible for him to be insincere. You may be aiding in his destruction rather than his recovery. (Alcoholics Anonymous, pages 96-97)

Like the Lone Ranger
I gallop to the rescue, oblivious,
ignoring your desire to do it yourself.
Selfless, I throw my self into your business
to help, to mend, to soothe.
You really don’t do it that way,
let me do it better, cleaner, quicker,
allow me to show you how.
No, get out of the way, you don’t understand.
Just turn it over to me.
You know, though, I’m darned tired
of carrying the load for you.
Can’t you do ANYTHING?

A Beautiful Thistle

I just think thistles are beautiful! ~ Jo Helen Cox

Despicable weed covered with prickles,
barbed leaves, nectar served up
in a spiked cup — nature cum loathsome, 
designed to be repugnant to herbivores and humans,
so hated weevils brought to destroy them.
Symbol of nobility? Of birth, of chivalry, of Scotland?
Cherished food of butterfly and goldfinch?
The thistle? 

Acrid of tongue, passive-aggressive,
piercing sarcasm, consumed by consumption,
clinging to wrongs past, savoring payback.
I came to you hateful, vengeful, arrogant yet fearful.
What had I to bring? Industrious, talented,
a leader? A cherished member of the group?
Me, a thistle?
Me. A beautiful thistle.

Just Fine

As a newcomer, the first impression I had of what OA members thought of me was, “You’re fine just the way you are.” No one made me feel that my illness rendered me less worthy of respect than other people. Taking a cue from these loving, caring friends, I stopped being ashamed of myself. ~ Overeaters Anonymous, For Today (Kindle Locations 1281-1283). 

I've always been "Just fine" when asked,
even with high fever, through the oxygen mask
at the age of five. That, though, was the outward face,
the tougher mask, the charade. Inside? Nothing fine,
not a lovable part, no worth. Until it changed.
Until being loved, being accepted just as I was,
made my insides as fine as I claimed,
changed my outsides over time to just fine. 

To Be Slowly Born

To live is to be slowly born. ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

As a rose begins as a green nub,
then hints at color, shimmying slowly
from the confines to glamorous, to glorious.
As mundane ingredients join
blending flavors, becoming far more
than the sum of the parts, augmenting,
lighter than air, defying logic.
As a child reaches for comprehension,
studying environs, mimicing elders,
trying on moves, vocalizations, manipulations.
Life awaits, out there, inside, all about
ready to astonish and enrich. 

Don't Worry, Be Happy

...but about the Nature of this Happiness, men dispute, and the multitude do not in their account of it agree with the wise. For some say it is some one of those things which are palpable and apparent, as pleasure or wealth or honour; in fact, some one thing, some another; nay, oftentimes the same man gives a different account of it; for when ill, he calls it health; when poor, wealth: and conscious of their own ignorance, men admire those who talk grandly and above their comprehension. Some again held it to be something by itself, other than and beside these many good things, which is in fact to all these the cause of their being good. ~ Aristotle, Ethics (Kindle Locations 380-384)

What is happiness?
It wears many faces...
contentment, jubilation,
gaiety, well-being, ecstasy,
so many hues, such variety.
Certainly we would mention
the need du jour, imagining – believing —
it descriptive of "happy"
despite a history of grasping targets
to find dross.
What is happiness
but welcoming life on life's terms,
accepting today as a thing of beauty?

Morning

Waking is a reset button
a new page on which to write
whether I'm inclined to walk
the same path, learn where it leads
or make a course adjustment.
Yesterday's past, good or bad.
Tomorrow's out there to prepare for
but not control. Today's what I have
and I can make it one I'd like to build on
tomorrow.

I Dare You

Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. ~ Alcoholics Anonymous, page 58

It's right there, the Big Book dare.
You doubt it? Fine! Prove it wrong.
Thoroughly follow our path!
How, you ask? Admit you're without power,
you can't manage life. Realize you're not
the end-all, the be-all, the top of the heap,
that some power, some force higher up the chain
might could make you sane, lucid, balanced...
normal. Decide that might not be a bad idea,
letting that force/power/higher-up try it.
Get honest. Look at what and who
you're angry about - how it threatens you
and what you did to cause or prod it.
Then introduce the you you met
to someone else and your force/power.
Look a bit at what you've learned
of who you are and what you are
and what whats make you less
than the who you want to be,
then ask your force/power to take away
those whats, not from a sense of entitlement
but asking a favor. List the people harmed,
and be willing to make things right with them.
Use good sense, borrowing that from someone else,
talking to a wise person, an experienced being,
a calm head, then in right ways at right times
make amends, redress each grievance
if you'll not be harming someone else.
Keep on doing this, day by day,
as you get closer to letting the power/force
have control. By then you've lost the bet —
have not failed — and with the freedom
found by now, dare other people
to walk the steps you've walked,
to find the way.

One Last Time

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.
It's time to return to the rooms of recovery
much as I hate to do it. So when?
Should I set a date? It's one I'll be remembering
the rest of my life, I guess, since I've surely proven
I can't do it on my own. I should pick a jazzy one,
memorable, like New Years or 123456.
Then what? One last time, for old time's sake?
I'd promise myself to get back when that day came...
But could I keep the promise?
I still can't do it on my own.
So what's today? It's a good-enough date.

Vacuum

The  air's sucked out of me.
I've nothing left, no friends,
no hope, no love. But wait.
Is that the truth? Who are these
around me, nurturing me,
loving me? Life took my breath,
left a black hole, but these care,
they want to help, to hold me,
to remind me how
to breathe.

From Here to Where?

I didn't know despair was a destination,

but here I am at the end of the road —
nothing out there but water deeper, farther
than death. That's, of course, going on
the way I've walked, slowly losing all.
Not without options, though – at least one....
And others?

Why do I remember those zealots
talking about hopeless, powerless, not sane?
Frauds, they were, prattling like they'd lived my life,
like they'd known desperation, like they'd grasped air,
like a wretch like me could be decent, honorable.
Act as if, they said. Walk through some phantom arch,
give up and get it all.

Is delight a destination?

And Dance

Music of recovery swells,
fills the rooms, envelops beyond,
expands to the stratosphere.
We hear, marvel at harmonies
where dissonance reigned,
feel cadences as close as heartbeats,
wonder at refrains in differing tongues,
divergent styles, antithetical genres
yet real, earnest, reverberating, ratifying life.
We hear the music, see recovery around us.
We can immerse ourselves in sensations,
but the miracle for us fails to happen
until we dare to dance.

They Just Fade Away...

She came, set up chairs, greeted people, shared, led meetings.
She came, helped set chairs, greeted friends, read, left.
She slipped in late, pulled a chair from the stack, stayed a while, left.
She ran by as the meeting ended, to catch a friend, chatted a bit.
She didn't come for weeks, then once or twice.
She left...

The Potential, the Promises and the Power

I came to believe that a Power could
where I was impotent,  inadequate, a failure.
I decided to offer my life, my will
daring to believe the entanglement
of knots I'd tied, trapping me inside,
snaring me into bondage, would fall aside,
that I might be freed of all the difficulties,
that my impediments would disappear.
But I skipped over phrases like "as Thou wilt,"
"that I may better do Thy will,"
and "to those I would help."
As long as it's a me thing, I stay impotent,
and the Power stands aside, not really welcomed in,
standing there, still the Power with potential
to make all the promises gloriously true.

The Self-Pity Problem

When the whole world
is against me, when I can telegraph
just how bad it is, how wrong,
then you can see what a martyr
I am. I can wallow in self-pity
and be succored by yours.
But real healing, real solace
comes from taking the hard steps,
from removing the cause
of the need for concern.

The Trouble Is Thinking

Whatever the precise definition of the word may be, we call this plain insanity. How can such a lack of proportion, of the ability to think straight, be called anything else? 

You may think this an extreme case. To us it is not far-fetched, for this kind of thinking has been characteristic of every single one of us. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 37)

Justification is a simple exercise
in validating my yens and yearnings
when voices in my head argue I’m playing
stinking thinking games. I can solve most problems,
but most of the time my solutions
are worse than the problem. I often find
things that I think are true, I made up.
When I’m explaining it to you I’m hearing it,
and when I’m hearing it, I’m believing it.
I’ve lived my life trying to think my way
into right living. That’s never worked for me.
Using the steps, I can live my way into right thinking.
But until then, the trouble is thinking.

Stamp of Approval

What do you call love, hate, charity, revenge, humanity, magnanimity, forgiveness? Different results of the one master impulse: the necessity of securing one's self-approval. ~ Mark Twain

One master impulse - securing self-approval.
For years I tried devious, negative means,
never feeling approval from others, so not granting
my own. Then, dismissing the goal of crafting
others' acceptance, looking only to accepting me,
love, charity, magnanimity appeared bringing
validation all around.

Keeping Score

You hurt me so I pay you back.
You retaliate and I counter,
revenge for tit for tat,
in kind for a taste of medicine.
Is this the game of life,
maybe love tennis style,
but none for real?
Certainly nobody wins.

I Don't Love It

Every April, every November,
he sets out a list of poetry prompts.
Every Tuesday he gives opposites,
"Two for Tuesday" he calls it.
And every year, twice a year,
the prompt is to "Write a love poem"
or "Write an anti-love poem."
What does he get paid for poetry prompts?
Doesn't he owe me original?
Don't I deserve innovation?
Why does he cheat me?
Why doesn't he love me?
Well, I anti-love him. He owes me fresh.
Why? Why can I not be grateful
for fifty-nine days each year?
Even if he's paid, it's not from me.
I could republish an old love or anti-love piece.
But why? If he falls down on novel,
is that license for me to renege as well?



http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=site:http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides+anti-love&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8

On Awakening

On awakening let us think about the twenty-four hours ahead. We consider our plans for the day. Before we begin, we ask God to direct our thinking, especially asking that it be divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self-seeking motives. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 86)

God, direct my thinking.
I tend to worry about my body,
remember what's scheduled,
reprimand myself for well-intended plans,
laid, not implemented. I concern myself
with food, meds, calls to be made,
the oppressive to-do list. Maybe I read
so I can check-off "read recovery lit daily"
but the mind wanders, unless you kick in
in the words of the reading or just breaking through
the mind meddle. And when you do,
and when I pay attention, all my plans and regrets,
lists and shoulds, line up, organized, doable,
ordered, and I can approach the day
prepared.

Not My Side of the Street

You offend me, you seem to be doing this on purpose,
intent to rub me wrong, to impose on me,
to belittle me, to humiliate me. Have you set out
to cause my thoughts to center on you day and night,
every minute of every hour, obsessively?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Probably not.
My guess is you think of yourself
even more than I ponder you.
But that's about to change.
No, I don't propose to change
your cognitive behavior —
nor verbal or corporal.
No, when you embroil my synapses,
I resolve to remind myself I can't change you,
ask for wisdom to recall that, seek serenity
to accept this limitation on my sway,
to know I can change only my thoughts, words, deeds,
and to mind my side of the street.
I will recall what you think of me
is none of my business, and I will decline
my inclination to sit in judgment
of you.

Skip the Microscope

Analytical, logical, a tinkerer,
needing to know just how it works...
I know you for you are me.
I understand frustration at inanities
like "Just do it" and "Act as if,"
to "Don't think your way
into a new way of living but
live your way into a new way
of thinking." You grit your teeth
at "How does it work, it works just fine"
and "Would you like to be happy or right?"
An intellectual awakening brings no recovery;
a spiritual one does. The other Big Book
got it right: faith is confidence in our hopes,
being sure of what we can't see — or prove.

Let's Imagine

You tell me you want nothing of God,
that He's never listened, didn't care,
wouldn't help no matter how earnestly asked.
You say an angry God punishing children
and their progeny generations and again
turns you off, sickens your soul.
You shun a God who condemns to Hell
for weakness, for failing, for caving to addiction,
who declares sins mortal, unforgivable
but expects you to forgive. Well, okay.
You need not accept such a god.
Instead, figure out what kind of god
you would want to have, to accept,
to yield control to. Let's imagine a god
you could admire, you would respect.
Find a god you can understand, as you
understand him.

One Year

It's just a plastic disk,
sometimes a cheap metal
but a mere token, pretty much useless,
A bauble. But its more, much more!!
It symbolizes a whole year abstinent,
clean, released from the insanity
of compulsive eating, of gaining meaning
from what I put in my mouth.
It means recovery of body, spirit, mind
and freedom from bondage to food.
I understood when the Tuesday meeting
had no year chips; I would go the old group,
the meeting that's been there decades.
But they were out of one-year coins!
So I sit here, a year – the last token that counts
for it's the gateway to so much more.
I know I'll get it, later. I know I've got what counts,
I've got the year. One year. Hooray!
Really. Hooray. Thank God!

AM Donuts Apple Fritters

Apple fritters and Blizzards
and Perini's bread pudding —
what does life offer better?
For years the question stood stark
unanswered, a rhetorical query
expecting nullity.
Then oxymoron of conundrums,
bewildering wonderment,
the answer emerged, miraculous,
unforeseen. Twelve principles,
creating a wondrous arch,
triumphant, through which I passed
to freedom.

Odd Lot

We are people who normally would not mix. But there exists among us a fellowship, a friendliness, and an understanding which is indescribably wonderful. (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 17)

Chewbacca sat down by Winnie the Pooh,
nodding to Jabba the Hutt.
Wimpy asked Henry VIII for a sniff of hamburger,
promising his thanks on Thursday.
Oprah gushed over Bess Marvin, asking of Nancy Drew,
while Fat Albert opened the meeting
and Barney Rubble, Eeyore and Edith Bunker
slipped in late. When Kirstie Alley
read about "Unity with Diversity"
everyone chuckled. Yep, this group
got the message, respecting our differences,
uniting us in the solution
to our common problem.

Welcome to Overeaters Anonymous

Okay, I'm here. Where do we weigh in?
No weigh-in? Cool. None of that facing the scale!
I've got a wedding I'm in in June —
Do you think I can get this off by then?
Where's the food plan? What do I get to eat?
Yeah, I know, what I weigh is none of your business...
What?? What I weigh is none of MY business?!!
You guys are insane!! No wonder you say that
right there on the wall, "could restore us to sanity."
But really, what's the catch? I like your ad,
"We are not a diet and calories club."
Okay, PSA, ad. what's the difference?
WHAT? You lost how much? And kept it off for —
Yeah, I think you're right, I'm home.

For Bettsy

What are friends for? For being there, for caring.
For opening heart and home. For tucking in the stray strap
while, arm around shoulder, sharing a confidence.
For donning a clown mask and presenting balloons to tots
when contracted entertainment no-shows.
Friends know all your buttons and bend backwards
not to push them. They argue with you only about taking
the lesser, the shoddier, the smaller. Friends have trust
gossip can't slash, confidence in me when mine dies,
love as endless as waves lapping the shore.
Friends have your back, your hand, and your heart.

Doomsday

The end of the world. At least for me.
Why go on? Armageddon sounds like a picnic
after today. I can't go on, won't keep plodding,
trusting "whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul." Bah, humbug!!
Who was I trying to fool? The whole world.
Who believed the crap? Just me. It's over.
There's nothing else.

What do you mean, when I've hit rock bottom
there's hope beyond me dreams? The old ones,
before they were all nightmares? You're loony,
but I'm here. I'm listening. Tell me.

Unlucky

Luck was a lady who hated me,
gave me dregs, left me outside.
Nothing was my fault, just bad karma.
Nobody understood, nobody there for me.
So I was my own friend, me and it,
my friend, my pal, my obsession.

Then it left me comfortless, forlorn,
alone without hope. But when I gave up,
admitted I'd lost control, never had control,
had nothing… then I knew. Knew I had help,
hope, luck. And luck was a lady who loved me.

Rabbit Season

Rabbit trails lead from the road to recovery everywhere,

invisible when I'm strong in program, centered, working Steps,

sure of step. Other days, careless days, distracted days, lazy days

neon lights appear lining the trails, beckoning, promising comfort,

telling me I've earned a break, one can't hurt, nobody need know.

I know better, know false advertising, bait and switch. If I'm wise

I call in help, read literature, find program people, resist the pull

if I'm wise... But if I'm not wise, I manipulate, rebel, declare open season,

and head down neon trails chasing wild hares, losing recovery road

for false thrills of rabbit season.

Winter of Our Discontent

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer... (William Shakespeare, Richard the Third)

This, too, shall pass. No matter how dour,
despite strings of catastrophe, in the worst of times,
better comes. And not only better but glorious summer,
seasons of delight, of bounty, of blessings.
To dwell in downturn, to expect bad to bring worse,
is to deny the potential, the promises, of the Power.
We reclaim life and will, storm the bank at the first hint
of weakness. But Power is strength and forbearance,
endurance and tenacity ours to claim, ours to trust,
ours to adopt while waiting, trusting, expecting
that glorious summer.

Pleasant Plants

Life's forest intimidated me,
so stately, dignified, set in place.
I bumbled down the path, alone,
lost, no clue where to go,
unwilling to ask. Until my wanders
led to a clearing where young trees
swayed with breezes, had odd limbs,
seemed approachable, familiar,
like me. As we whispered,
exchanged birds, watched leaves
whirling, I knew others felt like me,
and the whole forest became like home.

Out of the Shadows

Shady's the cleaned up version —
honesty would lean toward unscrupulous,
murky, underhanded, devious.
My life made gangster films chick flicks.
I'd laughed at foolish promises of peace
with some kind of inventory then confession.
But while the way's still somewhat murky,
all kinds of people hurt, of debts to pay,
still, a glow to the east says darkness could end,
a path could open leading me out of the shadows.

Wordless

She never even said her name,
came in, nodded yes, her first time,
started sobbing before the serenity prayer
when Jackie told Sandra she'd made the week,
no drive-through Blizzards, no apple fritters,
just three sane meals a day. Sandra jumped up,
hugged Jackie, and the new girl's face swelled,
mouth open, eyebrows raised, realization stamping
what we've all found here, people who see food
our way. Jona handed her the Kleenex
at "Our Invitation to You," "in the clutches
of a dangerous illness, and that willpower,
emotional health and self-confidence,
which some of us had once possessed,
were no defense against it." She grasped
a newcomer's coin, nodded, even grinned,
about "You put it under your tongue,
can eat anything you want when it dissolves."
I'm glad she signed the book. I'll call her,
maybe even her the voice of my new friend.

Hidden No Longer

Present from creation,
the essence of life,
glory, love, grace hidden
through millenniums,
glimpsed in lives, hinted in peace,
recognized by few.
Present in flesh a few years,
hidden in crowds, obscured by ordinary,
blending with normal,
recognized by those wanting to see.
Raised in glory, recognized, honored,
revered, put on a shelf as too good.
Remembered but hidden, impersonal,
sanctified, beyond interest in folk.
Found again in my heart, part of me,
waiting for welcome, ready for real,
finally, for me, hidden no more.

Before My Time

I look around the rooms,
see people here decades,
see youngsters, teens.
At sixty-five, five years here,
I could feel cheated,
the secret not passed my way.
But I know I had to be readied,
prepared, that for me
it took six decades.
I got here when I was ready,
when the magic worked for me.
I got here at my right time.

The Program Packaged

One hundred sixty-four pages

and eleven personal stories,
one big book - made big
with cheap paper, large type,
sent out into the world,
"one man with this book
in your hand" and the belief
it contains all you will need
to begin. From three fledgling
groups, one hundred strong,
one big book was enough
for millions of people, hundreds
of thousands of groups,
and hundreds of other addictions.
One book, containing recovery.

100% God

...we had to fearlessly face the proposition that either God is everything or else He is nothing. God either is, or He isn’t. What was our choice to be? (Alcoholics Anonymous,  page 53)

Up or down, all or nothing,
God is or isn't. Nothingness
without beginning, lacking end,
zilch, nil, tennis love. Diddly-squat.
Neither here nor there.
Yen and yang, the whole nine yards,
creator and creation, night and day.
Sun, moon, universe, neutrino,
hydrogen, ununoctium.
God's not nothing.

Unapologetic

We never apologize to anyone for depending upon our Creator. We can laugh at those who think spirituality the way of weakness. Paradoxically, it is the way of strength. The verdict of the ages is that faith means courage. All men of faith have courage. They trust their God. We never apologize for God. Instead we let Him demonstrate, through us, what He can do. We ask Him to remove our fear and direct our attention to what He would have us be. ~ Alcoholics Anonymous, page 68. (emphasis added)

We never apologize -- times two!
For an author known for synonyms
avoiding repetition, a three-word phrase
twice in sixty words? Without even
an apology? In what spirit did he write?
Surprise? An agnostic transformed,
amazed at the fact?
An admonition:
Don't even think of calling us weak!
An argument - justification - defense
against long-held lingering derision?
Men of faith have courage, are admirable,
and by-golly we're part of them,
oh God make it true!?
No, none or these ring true. Awe.
Amazement. Awareness of a God
demonstrating through the powerless
the power of impossible,
the inconceivable transformation,
the capacity to eliminate fears,
to illuminate potential, to reveal in man
his soul's significance.

The Most Important Person

Come in, come in! We're glad you're here.
My name is Jean, that's Alice and Ron.
We'll be starting the meeting soon —
have you been to one before? No?
Well, we're honored to have you.
Your name's Andy? Here come John and Ann.
Here's a packet for you, helpful pamphlets.
This one tells you how welcome you are —
The newcomer is the most important person 

at any meeting, because we can only keep 

what we have by giving it away. 

We hope you'll come regularly, for you and us.

Those who keep coming back to meetings 

find strength and hope beyond our wildest dreams.

Welcome. Welcome home!

To God, Ourselves and Another Human Being

I'll tell you, I don't want to be here --
would rather be 'most anywhere else.
But then again, those words, "restless,
irritable, discontent" -- that's me these weeks,
ever since I got this darned list done.
You weren't joshing me, what you said?
That this would help? Can't see how --
sounds like trickery to me, way to learn
my dirt, my fuckups. But what the hey.
Never knew you 'till I came here,
don't have to keep it up. Can't hurt much
'cept pride. You like a lawyer, can't tell
nothin' I say? Anawhatamy? Never have
understood what that means. Whatever.
Anyway, here goes.

That weren't too bad. You didn't even seem upset,
kept acting like I ain't done nothin' you wouldn't,
you haven't. Makes me feel different somehow.
Kind of happy. More than that. Pleased, maybe.
Tickled pink. Haven't felt this easy, relaxed in years.
I ain't scared. You know, I thought you were loony,
putting that there chair between us, saying, "God's here."
But I'll be darned if it don't seem like he's sittin' there.
Like he's real, not some old man floating up there,
zapping sinners. He sure didn't seem any madder than you!
And I don't feel like running' to the bar when I leave here!
I can stroll down the street, and he'd match me, step by step!
You could have told me! Oh. Yeah. I guess you did.

Recovery in Action

Hug a stranger,
cry with friends.
Welcome home
your first time here.
Loathsome deeds retold
draw hoots of rapport
while a beetle's gently
borne outside.
Abstinence of days
or decades or yet
just out of grasp,
we gather, fellowship,
and celebrate a Power
who sets us free
from food and fear.
Three days of insight
sharpen tools and reveal
what God is doing for us
that we could not do for us.
Today we separate, assured
  We shall be with you in the
  Fellowship of the Spirit,
  and you will surely meet some of us
  as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny.
  May God bless you and keep you—until then.

Honestly!

Honesty:  the complete absence lf the intent to deceive. ~ Tennie Mc

How honest have I been?
Kind of lawyer honest, I guess.
If you ask a question,
hit my hole card dead on,
no equivocation, no wiggle room
I'm likely to tell you as little truth
as I can run past you.

But you have to be really good

at cross examination to get close

to that hidden honest answer.

Truth Shall Set You Free

Jesus said to the people who believed in him, “You are truly my disciples if you remain faithful to my teachings. And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” ~ John 8:31-32, NLT

Truth will set you free.
First comes belief,
then remaining faithful.
Then comes knowing truth
all before the future time
of freedom.
But I want freedom now.
Instant gratification.
Let's reverse it. I'm free.
So show me the truth.
Then I'll be faithful and believe.
What do you mean,
my freedom deflects the rest,
sidetracks truth, faith, belief?
If I can't do what I want when I want
where's the freedom?
Oh. You mean the kind that really
feels free?

Calm Spirit

Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inward peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset. ~ St. Francis de Sales

For more than a year we've planned, prepared,
dared to believe we might succeed. Tomorrow —
that mythical day that never comes – happens
when I wake again. Is everything ready? No.
But enough, not just what I imagined, but it's a we,
not an I. And while I'm not prepared, we are.
And the process, the preparation, the doing
makes us a better us, creates a truer me. And power
greater than any, than all stands ready to transform
lives, to make calm spirits, to proliferate peace.

Outside the Zone

If we're growing, we're always going to be out of our comfort zone. ~ John Maxwell

Comfort zone, comfort foods,
favorite shoes,  old baggy shirt,
comfortable silence, a comfortable living,
words of comfort. Sometimes it's all
too close for comfort.

Hobbies grow tedious, same-old same-old
gets old. Out there beckons
and "Here be dragons" seems less fearful.
Sometimes it seems "dragons" is another word
for really living.

Free Renga, Solo

anticipation

fine-tuned by fear addressed

loose ends grabbed at

flailing arms meet ideas 

a mid-air Möbius strip

never-ending dance 

returns to beginning yet

different but not

joyous pirouette cavorts

romping cowboy line dance

early Texas twist 

in plan as pieces interweave

fear remains but tamed

Garage Sale Bargains

What have you got I need?
I see this old book – copyright 1939?
Such arcane language,
"the goose hung high"?
Still, I see myself, my problems
in the dated, sexist text.
This old God? No, don't think so.
I tried him for years
with no real connection.
I'll stick with the one I found
when somebody asked me
to describe my own conception
of God. But these old ideas —
rigorous honesty, keeping clean
my side of the street, seeking
God's will and power to do it —
certainly still a great value.
And this three-legged stool
marked physical, emotional,
spiritual – old, but comfortable,
like home. You know,
Daddy always said, "There's nothing
new and improved." I'll take these.
What? You want to change your mind,
to keep them, use them? Can't say
I blame you. And I know their value well.
I've got them all myself.
They're too precious to discard
just because they're tried and true.

Remarkable

Noteworthy, worth re-marking,
meriting recalling...
a remarkable day,
not one mired
in quotidian details.
What makes a day
extraordinary, prevents
humdrum, dreary?
Does uneventful mean
monotonous?
(Is monotonous named
for the o's?) Can a day
spent in your head,
even in your bed,
be worthy, be worthwhile,
be  a welcome visit with life?

A Mind's a Terrible Thing to Lose

It comes and goes, my sanity.
Most times I'm fine, or at least
that's how it feels. Then stress and fear
kick in as the mind dissolves to mush,
fears take hold and fetch awful eventualities,
pilfered from those who rebuffed the fears,
refused to yield to stress, who kept sanity
while I was losing mine.

Unless

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not. ~ Dr. Seuss, The Lorax

Save the world or mend your wits
or something in between, if you don't be
who you're meant to be, you're a nitz
to hope for change. You talk of your plea
to be rid of your faults when you plow on,
leave it to God – you prayed the Seventh Step
Prayer – and when tempted, you yawn —
God allowed your haughty misstep.
So, did you try a whole awful lot, did you yield
to the guidance you got? Simple, not easy,
the pathway we walk, and reflection reveals
our mindsets. Are we willing to be set free?
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better. It's not."

Pass the Blessings

Don't decline to accept a blessing and deny someone the blessing of blessing you. ~ Jo Helen Cox

"No, thank you" requires no thought,
skips cognitive analysis completely.
I'll do it myself. Five weeks and a day disabled,
one-handed, I find myself grinning when friends
tell strangers, "She can do it," shaking their head,
knowing all too well the urge – and my response.
I'm trying to let go. Joan threatened me
if I stacked chairs and I didn't disobey
to prove I could – just told Nita I'd carry boxes,
but didn't. I let the sacker carry a few bags,
asked her to move the coat on the seat.
I accepted help with a zipper, asked to borrow a pen.
I'm trying to share the blessings. Truth be told,
I'm not so sure I can do it myself. Oh, the nuisances,
little dares, are just that – a game with myself.
But tomorrow a friend goes with me when I finally see
the damage I managed with a careless step.
And I'll call folks who want to be, accept support,
feel the love. I'll let people be with me despite distance,
I'm learning how. I'm learning to let friends be.
And fill old holes.

Hobbling Doubt

I can't do it, I've tried and tried.
Why should I be persuaded
just to fall on my face again?
If they know I care, I'll look weak,
foolish when it doesn't work – again.

Doubt is a hobble that holds me in,
confines me where I am whether I'd stay
or go. Can I change the strap, make it a tether,
tying me to hope, to belief, to dreams?

Through a Glass Darkly

Little acts of kindness,
so easy, so natural.
Clean glasses light places
that didn't seem dark.
Holding onto the coffee cup
kept it still (didn't stop noise
from pulling the plastic lid)
but in a loving room, so what?
A phone call, a thanks on Facebook,
concern fron a cold-call salesman...
My day was better today because you
took a moment to care.

Unashamed

Ought to, should, what will people think?
I tried, earnestly, doggedly, determined
for years on end, and even when I caught most 
of the oughts, did lots of the shoulds,
played the role to please the crowds,
shame dogged me, hounded me, howled
my deficits though only I could hear.
Then I admitted insanity and found Power
to change me, to accept me, to stand
here before you and continue my life,
but changed, unashamed.

God's Desire

All God desires is for you to allow Him to guide you and to lead you. He knows what lies ahead and will redirect your path to save you from heartache and a life of regret. Let Him reign in your life. What are you waiting for? ~ Spiritually Single (Unevenly Yoked)

God wants to guide me.
You know what picture that evokes?
Right now I'm injured, obviously,
and when I insist on fending for myself
and see the faces of friends – and strangers —
longing, yearning to take over, to zip my purse,
unlock a door, carry things... normal stuff...
it would be so much easier, more comfortable
for them were I not obstinate. But God?
Is he in that line of folk? Not so obvious,
not so visbly distraught, but even greater longing?
It's just so hard to admit weakness, to accept aid.
But he's been there longer, stood by more patiently
when all but he believed me adequate,
when only he and I knew I was a fake,
pretending competence. He's been there,
ready seamlessly to take the helm,
control the roiling ship, to set the course
and stay the course. What am I waiting for?

OAStepper's 299th Blog Entry

OAStepper has been blogging since September, 2007 and in her blog you'll find drafts of parts of Slender Steps to Sanity, A Cloud of Witnesses, and a new work on Galatians. This is her 299th post, published Thursday. www.oastepper.blogspot.com

Galatians 2:13

As a result, other Jewish Christians followed Peter’s hypocrisy, and even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. (NLT)

---

---

I fancied myself a leader, for had not the men of my battery given me a special token of appreciation? My talent for leadership, I imagined, would place me at the head of vast enterprises which I would manage with the utmost assurance. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 1)

---

---

Managing with the utmost assurance —

yep, rings true, I've been there.

Peter, simple fisherman transformed 

to key carrier, not just for a meeting

but to the kingdom all in a few short years.

How fearful he must have been,

how often. 

Do I need a report from his POV?

No. No need to take his inventory,

just mine.

When I find myself a leader

by vote of peers or default, 

my responsibility lies not

in keeping waters calm

but in being qualified to lead,

allowing that to come from 

a power far greater than I, 

and seeking daily the power's directive

and
the will and courage
to lead there.

God, I offer myself.
While I'd prefer anonymity,
I'm willing to yield
to your plan.

With Power Backing

You forget that you have just now tapped a source of power much greater than yourself. To duplicate, with such backing, what we have accomplished is only a matter of willingness, patience and labor. (Alcoholics Anonymous, Kindle Locations 2043-2044)

Duplicating those early pioneers,
alcoholics before they were anonymous,
while still the drunk squad of the Oxford Group...
more than a hundred after starting from scratch
less than five years before, recovered from hopeless
in mind and body. Knowing, sharing precisely how!
Not "keep coming back," not ninety in ninety,
but a remedy for tens of times more, thousands
that became fifteen thousand times more
in sixteen years. And I've got that resource,
that power, that book. Then all I need is that triad:
Willingness. Patience. Labor.

Free Power

When I enter your presence
suddenly I'm drained of power,
impotent, a first grader trembling
in the principal's office.
That's not my nature!
I'm confident,
bold, can assert myself when I try,
but not with you.

It's an old pattern,
I've seen it before,
always with women...
my mother first,
then women I know he
has found attractive.
It's my power, though,
not yours. And you can't have it
unless I surrender it, give it up,
choose to yield,
 to get back into a role
I know...a role I hate.
So, the rules have changed.
It's MY power and I'm keeping it.
You go get
your own.

Life Defies Logic

Logic is all very well for the world’s business, but it has little to do with living. Life defies logic. Figuring-out has no place in growth. ~ For Today (Kindle Location 730)

But figuring out is what I do!
Logic is my nature. Analytical
is I. Analytical is me? I am Analytical,
it’s  an object complement, needs
a first person pronoun:
Analytical is I. And it doesn’t matter.
I’m not here to analyze or reason.
I’m here to seek God’s will
and the power to carry it out.
And how to avoid ending
sentences with prepositions?

Forgiving, Defined

The definition of forgiving is, “I give up my right to hurt you for hurting me.” ~ Vernetta Howell

I can make you hurt,
but why? In hurting you,
I don’t pass it on,
don’t relieve myself
of earlier hurt. In fact.
guilt kicks in, no matter
how I feel you may have
sought out conflict,
dished out more – and harsher —
than I could give. I still hurt,
and ache that I have stooped
to payback, to vendetta.
Forgiving feels right,
appropriate, with just a pinch
of better than, but right
and appropriate overcome,
and I march forward to living.

Equal Time

I became as compulsive about A.A. as I had been about drinking, which was necessary because I had been told to spend as much time at meetings as I had spent drinking. (Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th Edition, page 396)

Elsewhere the book says,
"What an order! I can't go through with it."
And probably I can't, at least for my worst
binging days. A position in my head, in my nerves,
in my heart – and car – as significant as food's grip...
A commitment to recovery as ironclad as determination
to ease the craving, to sate the passion for cloying goo?
God, give me that purity of purpose, that depth of passion
for recovery, for grace, for promises effectuated.

Pretty Much Perfect

When a United Methodist pastor is ordained, he or she is examined on these topics:

• Have you faith in Christ?
• Are you going on to perfection?
• Do you expect to be made perfect in love in this life?
• Are you earnestly striving after it? ~ Pastor Aaron

Perfection's not variegated, doesn't come in shades
like this or that, yes or no, black or white.
Perfection's beyond my pay grade, unattainable
with all my resources, with eons to reach it,
pouring all my soul into the chase. Yet our text says,
"We can be alone at perfect peace and ease."
How that can be has nothing to do with my work,
my striving. It's a gift of grace, unmerited, unearned...
a pretty much perfect gift.

Will You Give Up Your Power?

Willpower, finely honed through years of wear

against compulsion, against behaviors relegated
to private moments, hidden from sight, secret
obsessions. Willpower, threadbare, exhausted,
torpid, inert, deceased. These truths resonate, define
not just my life but my resolve.... Why, then, do I balk
when asked to give it up, to own this truth?
Is this not bondage, this slavery to my paltry efforts,
my habiliments of sanity? I say it, mostly mean it,
want to offer self to God. But the question resonates
through my head, over and over, louder and clearer.
But when will you give up your power? 
When can I accept?

Worse than Sticks and Stones

Not one hurtful thing about me that hit my ears has ever left my mind. (Travis Cottrell, Surprised By Worship)

You hurt me, don't you recall?
In 1982 – On Golden Pond.How can you have forgotten
what you said that day? I never will.
I play it in my mind each morning,
again when I see you or someone says your name.
I know you apologized the next day,
called early, shed tears, or so it seemed.
But I stoke the coals, keep the bitter burning,
evoke contempt at your vile words.
Others may perceive a kindly gentle man
but I know better, hold you in contempt
and know you'll never be as sweet as me.
And while resentments broil, who can blame me
should I keep a few behaviors to comfort me,
to make up for all the hurt you've caused me
through these years? It's your fault, you know,
this program doesn't work...

Pain, the Teacher

A note in explanation:  Barbara Rollins, author with OAStepper of A Cloud of Witnesses, fell three weeks ago, damaging multiple tendons plus artery and nerve, and finds herself in pain with one functional hand for the foreseeable future.  Proofreading the book for publication in large print, she found herself blessed by her own words and shares the whole section here today. God is good all the time. Amen and amen.

Hebrews 2:18 (NLT)

Since he himself has gone through suffering and testing, he is able to help us when we are being tested.

Alcoholics Anonymous, Page 117

The faith and sincerity of both you and your husband will be put to the test. These work-outs should be regarded as part of your education, for thus you will be learning to live.

Pain is always the teacher,
which makes the pain
more tolerable
if I can just remember that,
if I can go past seeing some wisdom
and really buy into the notion.
Pain does make me more tolerant
of others facing their pain, their fears,
unless I take credit
for God’s grace
in creating in me
a better person.
When I forget the source of grace
I renounce the gift.
I forget
the Source.

God, the source of all that’s good
help me to trust you through the pain
of growth.

Holy Equality

A holy person is one whose body, mind, and spirit share an equality that was (and is) the intention and plan of God for all men. [Overeaters Anonymous, Second Edition (Kindle Locations 3067-3068)]

The three-legged stool – or is it a throne?
The simple program feels comfortable, homey
like an old stable of beloved animals,
real, basic, home before we ever get there.
But so real, so regal, so greater than splendid,
a tetrahedron worthy of gracing cathedrals,
a vessel to traverse galaxies, to explore molecules.
Grandiose yet common, the natural balance,
the harmony of body, mind and spirit attuned to God.

Doing Business

 I’m ready to do business. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 159)

Doing business is agreement,
contract, commitment.
Telling the world your new name.
Success comes from a plan,
relying on folks with knowledge
of the path. The while picture, not bits,
pieces, the fun parts alone.
Doing business is serious, whole-hearted,
all in. Are you ready to do the business
of recovery?

When You Walk Through a Storm

Nature, logic, common sense
demand a hunker down, head down,
covered up, charge-through stance.
Avoid excess storm contact —
physical, emotional or mental.
The song in your head counters,
for what contrarian reward?
"You'll never walk alone."
Doesn't never include head-down?
What else? Don't miss the lightning show?
Feel the might of gales? Avoid muscle ache
from tensed, stooped backs?
No, not the payoff, not enough...
it's the fear, faced, confronted,
acknowledged on a par. It's the act
of disdaining fear that makes true
the peace to finally, fully hear
the sweet silver song of the larks.

I Am Loved

Pain, frustration, fatigue,
unmet obligations, impediments
roadblocking forward movement.

What have I to share, to encourage?
How can I comfort when energy lags?
I know I’m cared for, cared about,
that others will bear my load,
lend a hand, walk with me.
I stand surrounded by a cloud of witnesses
who love me. And I know and can affirm
you do, too. I love you who love me
whether we’re close or never met.
I bear witness to a circle of love
in which you stand. I know. I’m there, too.
And we stand in love.

Real Peace

Great people not only do great things, but they like themselves too. That is real peace. ~ Martin Torsey

Accomplishments with self-respect,
big acts with honesty within, integrity.
Great things no matter what gets in the way,
but knowing when to pull back, mend, heal.
Balance facilitates greater greatness, real peace. 

Making Miracles

Sea of Galilee, © Kaye Schwertner

Miracles, sure, thousands of years ago.
Miracles today? Lord, I believe,
help my unbelief. Even in my great grandfather's time.
Credible witnesses I know well, so belief comes easier
than distrust in the reports. Past miracles, incredible.
Yet credible. And safely in the past.
But what of the promises?
New freedom, new happiness,
no regret about the past nor urge to shut the door.
Comprehend serenity, know peace? And more.
Miracles for sure, but happening. But fishes, loaves
abundantly? Lazarus, buried three days?
The man with the withered hand.... That's the kicker
right now, so personal, so impossible. Woe ye, me,
of diminutive faith.  Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.

Sudden and Profound

Fearful, angry, defiant.

I'll do it myself – this mess

is a mistake, I'll fix it soon.

I don't need your suggestions,

get out of my face,

you don't have a clue.

You're too stupid to understand.

Leave me alone!

I don't know why nobody likes me.

Confident, compassionate, understanding.

Let's look at this together – nothing's too tough,

we can work trough, we all make mistakes.

What do you think? I welcome your insight.

The joy in your face! Can I hug you?

It isn't that tough, this books tells the way.

Don't worry, it's simple – not easy! But simple.

I'm glad you're with me, so I'm not so alone.

Your love warms my heart.