Friend of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 10

I DON’T SEE HOW



This is the smallest of the fragile excuses I use to keep from doing things to make me happy. Petty in a way I would never be with others, I rake my desires and tiny little hopes over the coals. Tired platitudes are plated up as first serves by my short order shortsightedness. Protecting crusted-over nonsense, I live the life of a lockout, not even a squatter on the fringes of my dreams. I stumble in my efforts to see hope, joy or my purpose, ignoring the fact that I must step from the box before I can see the horizon or more.


Rub your own head.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 11

QUILTER


What more comfort can exist in the world than a conglomeration of turned edges and love? Fancy stitches or not, the assembled world of cloth stands testament to devotion and diligence. Careful collections, meaningful to the collector and mysterious to the possessor, fulfill the primal urge to shelter and be safe. Time is testimony to endurance. Thread against thread, solidarity is strength embracing flexibility. The bed of life is made and remade daily with the affection of kind quilters’ needles of love.


Find a room for zeal.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 12

EIGHT MISTAKES CLOSER


I am eight mistakes closer to perfection. As long as I fall forward, progress is being made. I fail meticulously toward my goal, more cannot be asked. Loss, pain, frustration are strong teachers and great motivators. I suck each splinter for knowledge, extracting juice from every fragment for information. In spite of sprains and strains, I have stretched, attaining almost my full height. Growth is a wonderful thing, though cost is always involved. Mistakes are an unavoidable price but well worth the expense. They are an expense that pays dividends, dividends that move me toward perfection.


Stretch your body, flex your mind.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 13

FLORAL ECSTASY


I could eat fields of buttercups and drink down ponds of water lilies. Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers, too. I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe and underpin with nettles. I could rise with the roses, lay with the lilies, shade with the sage, sing with the trumpet vines and run away from home with a Turk's cap on my head and a pansy in my pocket, until the four o’clocks say it’s time to come home for evening primrose and then bed.


Increase your tool chest by one.


Sherrie

[Tommi]

November 13

FLORAL ECSTASY


I could eat fields of buttercups and drink down ponds of water lilies. Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers, too. I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe and underpin with nettles. I could rise with the roses, lay with the lilies, shade with the sage, sing with the trumpet vines and run away from home with a Turk's cap on my head and a pansy in my pocket, until the four o’clocks say it’s time to come home for evening primrose and then bed.


Increase your tool chest by one."

Sherrie

A lover of flowers, this made me smile . Eloquent....

[PearlsNLace]

I had lots of moments today that were not about me. That felt really good.

I started my day with an AA meeting. I think its a great way to face the evils of morning.

By the way, I got a new sponser. Shes cool, with a lot of years of sobriety, got sober around the same age as me, has multiple 12 step connections- we share quite a few wich is AWESOME.

I gave up coffee on Saterday. Im hurtin a bit right now, but I think it was the right thing to do.

I am really drained today. Going to bed early I think, so I can be human when I wake up in the morning instead of

[LeftWriteFemme]

Dear Pearls and Lace,

Congratulations!!!!!!! I am so excited that you found a new sponsor!! Way to go!!! Big girl stuff about the coffee!!!!! Way to go, again!!!!!!

keep up the good work!


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 14

THREE TOYS FLOATING

I bat the ducks across the surface of my bath. Soaking is supposed to calm me. I’m waiting. I assure you my impatience is no help to this process. These yellow, tub-bound misfits grinning at me don’t fill me with the joy of living, either. I have blown bubbles until I’m blue. I smell like a French elevator from the bath oils. My hair is stiff with conditioner; my face packed with mud. “Do the right thing," said my sponsor. She is such a pain. Here I am bubble bath to my armpits, and not a hint of peace. Her question rings, “What do you want?” But isn’t it obvious? If I knew that, what would I be doing wrinkling in this swilling vat? I wouldn’t. I would be out doing my ‘thing’, whatever that ‘thing’ is. How I’m going to figure myself out I don’t know. And ‘she’ is no help, (you know who ‘she’ is, she the sponsor lady)
So what do I want?
World peace.
A clue.
Maybe just a hint.
But I know part of it. I know more than I admit.
I want sobriety and happiness, dignity and respect, enough time to do these things, and love.
“Well," says she, “those things are easy. Work the steps, then the traditions; practice them, do service, and take the advice you give to your own sponsees.”
I stick out my tongue in her general direction.


Creep toward the unknown.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 15

DESERVING


Tender toes crushed by moving memories, fresh pain from ancient injuries, shock incurred from these lifeless reminiscences. Unhappy reconstructions slap unsuspecting faces. The people, who stood by to let the chips fall where they may, try to feign 'innocent bystander' now that shit is falling from the sky. Unexposed skin will burn when the flames leap high. Idiotic excuses will not retard the fire of injustice coming to call. Too late tears carry no freight with the past recipients of the it all runs down hill award. Cowards make themselves cripples and fracture at the force of incoming reality, and deserve more than they get.


Once well is a full feeling.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 16

DOWN THE UPSIDE



On the downside of a rising star there is too much fear. Anticipation is recommended for ascent, delight should be encouraged, but all out alarm is usually sounded whether it is needed or not. Panic dims the shining pleasure of mounting the sky. Refuting celestial status, denying astral projection, I renounce myself. Attaining height, my position in space is apparent to bystanders and onlookers. I need to ride the comet and accept fate, my nemesis. Fortune shines on me, I should not squint away kismet.


Expand your spiritual muscle.


Sherrie

[Tommi]

I had lots of moments today that were not about me. That felt really good.

I started my day with an AA meeting. I think its a great way to face the evils of morning.

By the way, I got a new sponser. Shes cool, with a lot of years of sobriety, got sober around the same age as me, has multiple 12 step connections- we share quite a few wich is AWESOME.

I gave up coffee on Saterday. Im hurtin a bit right now, but I think it was the right thing to do.

I am really drained today. Going to bed early I think, so I can be human when I wake up in the morning instead of

Yep, I woke up this morning certain I was a human...Phone rings, Peaches the cat can't answer, but he wants to talk. He talks to "her" and they carry on a conversation something like ...RRarrrr then she says Rarerrarr, he responds with a series of Rreoww, rrrr...The I get to her back .

Happy Sunday, and I gave up coffe at the BASH..and no am a tea and water drinker and feeling good about that. Best wishes on new sponsor on board..

Thank you both so much. It really means so much to have the love & support of those in our community. I just keep trying to do the 'next right thing' and it keeps taking me forward. Funny how that works, eh?

Hey hey homeboi, way to go.....and funny, it all works , as we are workin' together .

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 17

TIMELY





Spend a minute to rub the sleep gently from your eyes.
Spend an hour smoothing lotion from one end to the other.
Spend a day in tribute to the gifts you give and gifts given you.
Spend a week researching your goals, dreams and hopes.
Spend a month routing energy to a viable flow.
Spend a year studying truth.
Spend a life living it.
Your life is worth all the time you have.
Take it.


Balance doubt and dreams.

Sherrie

[pilgrimpoet]

{{{{{Sherrie}}}}}
You give me balm for my sober soul and all the shocks it receives on this journey.
Much love and enormous thanks,
Cathy

[LeftWriteFemme]

{{{{{Sherrie}}}}}
You give me balm for my sober soul and all the shocks it receives on this journey.
Much love and enormous thanks,
Cathy

{{{{{{{{{{{{{Cathy}}}}}}}}}}}}}


Thank you!!! I am so glad to aid you in anyway! Hugs and kisses, Sherrie




.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 18

MAIL FRAUD



The open envelope betrays the tampering I suspect. Too bad my critics are snooping, not my supporters. When they are finished tearing open my mail, they tear me apart as well. Shredded, I feel unable to handle further correspondence. I shut down communications. There is no channel for benefactors to travel. My champions are at a loss to defend me from my opponents; the struggle flounders. Misunderstanding the meaning of messages, I have been mocked and enslaved. I would love to vanquish my foes, but you see I am opening my own mail.


Ask often all the questions.



Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 19

DRIVEWAY TIME


Layer after layer of blue stack the sky, the moon risen and the sun dipping away. I wait for the twin lights, the constellation of headlights---my ride to the meeting. It will be the entry vehicle to a world of population, leaving behind the galaxy of me, the single star. I stand silent and the feeling of fellowship carries the miles. Laughter flies the winds of memory and all the old jokes of truth and tribute are fresh and abide with me until the car arrives and we make it all new again.


Ride a horse to a pony show.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 20

NUZZLE’S OFFERING


Like a vegan kitten who wrestles long tailed leaves and twigs, subduing them and dragging these prizes to the feet of human parents, I fight paper tigers and bring the tatters as tribute to my Higher Power. These bloodless battles are pure practice; future wars may not be as clean. I can not enlist my God to fight these skirmishes; I would never believe in one that I could. I accept Deus as creator and cheerleader, but champion, no. Foliage and foes are mine to fight. The spoils, I bring back for pats on the head and bragging.


Talk to things other than people.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 21

FLORAL TROPHIES


Captured pet plants grow in my window. Why these specimens are given such regal care I suspect, but can’t explain. Delicate shoots pile out of sturdy stalks; roots force the confines of my decorative pots. How many neighborly blooming faces stare into my kitchen, greeting me mornings? I am amazed what good company my leafy friends can be when I am loving myself. Advantageous to my mental health, I breathe their exhaust and they breathe mine. Symbiotic, we live. I grow and flower; grateful these plants keep me.


Allow also small dreams that fit in your hand.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 22

JELLYFISH AND PEANUT BUTTER CARDS



Jellyfish and peanut butter cards make for busy days and cheerful nights, sunlit at the beach and lantern light filled with double-decker solitaire. Camping as a way of life suits some as they run from their lives. For the more balanced, camp is a temporary retreat. To the overly invested, camping is an aberration, a threat to the foundations of civilization as we know it. I can take a bit of sand in my hair, smoke in the air. Though I do dread the feeling of coming back to the life I love and feeling like a stranger. Temporary disengagement estranges me from the place, the things, the dog. I need time away, variety of experience, expanded horizons. I need my entrenched home life. I need it all and must accept the clock never stops running anyplace on the planet even if I am enjoying a good game with sticky camp cards, regaling tales of man-of-war.


Don’t break your wishbone.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 23

PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL


In truth, pride goes wherever it wants, it’s pride. Pride wanders alone, for no one enjoys its company. Pride travels far but gets nowhere. Pride rises above reality and seeps beneath the surface. When pride wears out, love and honesty poke holes in it until it is grounded and transforms to humility. Pride’s past is remembered with flush and embarrassment. Recounting yesterday is pride’s unenviable task. Keeping its recreation is mine.


Dress yourself with love.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 24

LIKE PEACE


Peace, like an elephant on my chest; I can’t breathe but at least we are not fighting. The rigid air hangs like sheets on the line, stiff but dry. Plastered smiles and short salutations get us through until bedtime, but what we can hold in standing up pours out lying down. Tender feelings are compressed and come out only as water. Anger bubbles and brews. Disappointment lives down deep and sours the milk of love. There are things worse than cross words. Moldering, festering, frozen words pound spikes in a relationship fraught with apprehension. The truth is I would let these pent-up things out, but I don’t trust you and I don’t trust me.


See through time.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 25

THE FLYING MIND



When my brain flies out my ear, destination unknown, I am left mentally bereft. I feel intellectual convolution and show no affliction other than my inability to fulfill my assignments. I stare out sure a ring of blue birds circle my head, or maybe stars like any other cartoon patsy. What to do? These parodied wingdings ridicule me privately leaving the impression of idiocy with onlookers and supervisors. My focus and perceptions quaver and I lose my place. I have to find a way to spot and keep my emotional balance, the same way I stay upright during pirouettes by watching one doorframe or light switch. I need an unmoving object in a sea of swimming thoughts. I still need to make the mental turns but this should be much easier if I stop landing on my face.


Work with yourself.


Sherrie

[WickedPassion]

Good morning fellow sober peeps!

I hope everyone has a safe week and a very Happy Thanksgiving!

[whisperingkarma41]

Just putting in a happy Thanksgiving to all Bill W's friends..
(((hugz for everyone)))

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 26

ASSURANCES OF GULLIVER



Poor Lilliputians and my egg shaped conundrum! At least they have the strength of their convictions when I have only pondering to share the space between my ears. What sense could the world make if there is no one right way and each person is free to open the egg from either end or leave the thing intact, having instead maybe a bagel? I have been looking for the combinations to unlock the universe when possibly it’s an egg shaped thing with no doors or locks and all that’s left is to break in or out.


Believe what you can do.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 27

THE STORYTELLER



Funny stories I long to share with new friends have to be put aside while the core of this entity is built. Mutual memory is the siding on a house framed in integrity. Treading together through the past, we strengthen each other's perception; it's the only support that can be offered without time travel. We take hands, then link arms, wander happily toward the future having the keys to history jangling in our fists; we can return whenever prudent or necessary. We forge a fresh path and hope for a pleasant journey; between us we figure we have slain all the dragons.


Invest in idealism.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 28

NAVY DUCK



When the postcard is hung upside down the plane flies away on its back. I know one of those irregular days with the disposition of a bee-stung mule is on its way to visit me. I have found diplomacy goes a long way and when it runs out, humor is the best fallback, nothing mean or sophomoric, but the ability to laugh is a fortune in the face of a bankrupt day. When the sun sets on these spare and harrowing days, I mortgage strength from tomorrow and right the picture then try to fly right.


Plod when you can’t skip.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 29

ENDLESS PASTA




Having limits in a seemingly limitless universe makes me feel horribly inadequate. I am a sad little creature in the face of overwhelming tasks. Pressure and unwarranted ego compress my ability and eager disposition. I am forced to see there are chores outside my qualifications and willingness. Going on in the face of crushing requirements extrudes my life force into a plateful of capellini lying exposed with no gravy to keep me warm. It is hard to realize, in this world of wonder and delight a plate of naked spaghetti can’t do it all.



Put a penny in your sock..


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 30

FLAW IN SNOW



Waiting for snow. Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads, warm beds, reading by firelight. Waiting for the proof of lack of control. Waiting itself proves lack of control. I can dance the snow dance and refuse to buy new shovels, hang out laundry, put out every manner of storm tempters; still I cannot force the hand of nature. I must sit with my crystalline optimism and endure these cloudless skies. There will be snow, it will fall somewhere, but I mustn’t grow overanxious ‘cause it may never snow in Miami.


Treat yourself with learning.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 1

ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT


Arrested development was bad enough; the living death sentence it imposes is completely unacceptable. My childhood ran down the hill away from the mountain of confusion that is life in this society. My ability to mature was damaged and what I learned to do was mutate. I could move laterally but never grow up. I became the goose being grown for its liver. All the honk and squawk in the world couldn’t change my plight. I don’t have to understand how I was let out of the prison of addiction. As long as I don’t go back I’ll never fear breaking out in handcuffs or getting locked in my crib.


Effort is already made, just add your hand.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 2

There are only 23 more shopping days left till my nervous break down


Shoppers beware: I have a careful plan! I can juggle these thirty things, keep these twenty people happy, dig around in the dirt at these three excavation sites and hold on to my sanity for twenty-three more days.
My sponsor says having a plan like that means I’m already crazy. My sponsor says I don’t have to please anyone but myself, my Higher Power and her. That can’t be right. What is the point of sobriety if I can do it all?
She says I don’t even have to please her or myself. What does that mean? How can I tell if I’m pleasing my Higher Power?
She says, “Shut up and you’ll find out.” Great! What a plan. I like my countdown better. Of course I do, it’s mine. My countdown, my life, mine, mine, mine.
Maybe my sponsor is not all wrong. OK, quiet......da,da,da.....da,da. OK, quiet for real. Hmmm. I don’t, don’t know. This isn’t working. I can’t do this. Why would I need to stop being me in order to get better?
“Who are you?” she asks. She thinks she’s so smart. I’m the one in the middle. She says the eye of the storm is empty and I need to get a life of my own.


Endurance lets you live in the house you built.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 3

MIRACULOUS


Sometimes the blind lead the deaf. The subtle signs are the bumping into trouble and inability to listen to reason. It is an expedition into disaster unfettered by common sense or boundaries. Tumbles and falls propel this pairing to unknown destinations. The attraction is baffling but undeniable. These pairs can be seen through the ages. In spite of this confounding coupling, sometimes the blind find their way and the deaf hear the call. And even when they don’t, life seems to roll along. But try to keep your eyes and ears open anyway.


Set the goalpost where you can see it.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 4

PERSONAL DICTIONARY


Everyone keeps a dictionary in his or her head. All the words lay on platters each with its own flavor and meaning. There are favorite menus, phrases, which form warmly in the mouth and hang sweetly for the ear. Other vocabulary is exotic, pungent, occasionally with a strong aftertaste or off-key ringing. Abundance brings a wealth of conversation and keeps the cold of boredom at bay. Free for the taking, words grow out of life lived. When we have lived separately, even if only in our separate heads, meanings vary and reference must be checked. Blue sky is blue sky, but do you speak of azure, cerulean or peacock? Life is so much show and tell. Drink the sunshine with your eyes and flow it out to me with your words.


Write on scraps then tape them together.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 5

THE BOAT


On my ride home from work there is a boat stuck between two trees in the middle of a horse pasture next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass. I think the boat is me. I feel for the boat every time I see it. Turned on edge, waiting for a river, which doesn't exist anymore and may never exist again. Placed on edge for protection, not comfort. Although having my bottom rot out, well, let's just say might be more uncomfortable. What good will I be even if the river runs again since I'm fenced in? My sponsor says I shouldn't ask any question which starts with the word 'why'. You know my reply.
If my Higher Power has a plan...if it includes a river and a fence… if I'm in this plan, me, the rowboat…I just don't see it. Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life says my sponsor. I don't tell her the theme in hers.
Truth is, I don't want to face the fact I might float away. Even though I'm supported by two big trees. Even though there is a tall fence all around me. Completely in spite of the fact THERE IS NO WATER! My Higher Power loves me. I am the boat.


Enjoy the flowers and slide on the snow.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 6

MOSAIC


I couldn’t prevent this plate from shattering, so I saved all the pieces, losing none. I laid them edge-to-edge and made a design, secured it with thin-set. Pieces of pattern framed with grout are seen, as they never could be when this dish was whole. I am part of this construction more than just handing china onto the table. Integrity has been lost but replaced with fractured openness. The plate has lost personal unity to become an ingrained part of my personal archeology.


Fly your kite in the wind.



Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 7

ORIGINS


Pain-filled interactions with people better suited to be left alone changed me in the way of acceptance. Wretched relationships with people made it difficult for me to have a loving relationship with the world. I had imprinted as a fledgling on sarcasm and ridicule, bitter milk that starved my expectations of kind response. I could not greet the world eagerly. Having never embraced the world I failed to hang on as it turned. I slid on my face and hands. Mud covered, I try to keep an open mind and attempt a connection with this spinning orb.


Color your emotions.


Sherrie

[Tommi]

December 6

MOSAIC


I couldn’t prevent this plate from shattering, so I saved all the pieces, losing none. I laid them edge-to-edge and made a design, secured it with thin-set. Pieces of pattern framed with grout are seen, as they never could be when this dish was whole. I am part of this construction more than just handing china onto the table. Integrity has been lost but replaced with fractured openness. The plate has lost personal unity to become an ingrained part of my personal archeology.


Fly your kite in the wind.
Sherrie

This makes so much sense to me as I take a a look at the wreckage of my past.

Looking into the mirror, something shattered yet, I can recreate into a new piece...

[LeftWriteFemme]

This makes so much sense to me as I take a a look at the wreckage of my past.

Looking into the mirror, something shattered yet, I can recreate into a new piece...

Hey, really love what you've done with the place! It's amazing how well we rebuild after the hurricane comes through. Thank you for your comment.

Love,

sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 8

THE WAY I DO IT



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


Write bad advice on tissue and wipe with it.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 9

CLIMBING ON THE ARC


If time swings and the seasons swirl and I pulse out my existence, why does the bird's wing flap and the rain fall down? If the song comes from my mother’s lips and my father tells his tales and I dance my heritage with each step I take, then why does the flower open to the bee and the swan trumpet her way home? If everything pulls from the ground and reaches for the light, then how can I duck my head, hide my heart and pass this all off as a coincidence? Am I less than the rain or greater than the swan? Why can’t I just climb on the arc and let the continuum spin its web around me? Well, you see I can, but will I?


Let little birdies speak.


Sherrie