a diary of what i love and what i do

Sunday, January 15, 2012

I'm the king of the castle you're the dirty rascal.

thank you

for another 24
for the very first thing someone said to me in AA that stuck
"if its meant to be, you can't fuck it up. if it's not meant to be you can't make it happen"
that when i trust god is flying the plane i can move freely about the cabin
for short cut clean fingernails
long flowy nighties
the sun reflecting off a white building into my eyes
a tree bare from the winter
that i may have moments of doubt and pain but i am still awake
that everything ... EVERYTHING passes, even the enjoyable stuff and such is life
for timed tantrums
contagious laughter
natural herbs
for sheets soaking in the sink
a pocket of quarters jingling
choosing happy over right
finding my base line
and my own ability to give the things i wish to receive
holding that space between asking for what you want and not knowing if you're going to get it
communicating my truth at the risk of losing it all
taking a chance that the truth might set me free
entertaining the possibility that communication is true communion
the idea of communing with the ones i love by sharing the parts i think are unlovable
that i got balls when i need them
sunbathing in the middle of january
a kitchen with mountains of snacks
to miss someone and yet respect their space
to love the one i'm with
that we fall for their outsides then we stay for their insides
for his beauty within
for the song "crash" by dave matthews band still doing it for me
that weezie and lolo are home
the clothes closet explosion
sex on hardwood floors
skirts lifted and panties moved to the side
a commitment to start talking to the sad plant by the window
flowers that smell like pepper and plastic
football with my ho's
being "those people" with diet cokes, coffees and every dessert on the menu please.
for so much that i don't understand
the gift of desperation
cold marble against my butt cheek
razors spinning in my chest
god loving fools
borrowing other people's hope and faith in times when i can't find mine
that the men i look up to are really tall with really big hearts
poppa pulling cookies out of his shirt pocket
that the power inside myself is the original gift
tapping into an inner resource that has been here all along
that "a woman laughing is a woman captured" Napoleon

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Human is the New Black.

thank you
for making me a spiritual being having a human experience
for all i saw today
a man pushing a shopping cart from the front
a big full bright moon
flesh being carved
pen writing across paper while she cried
sponsees taking the crap out of the house
the contact around his pupils
the brown inside a white dying rose
a woman wearing little brown elf shoes
the curious curve of his lips
the inside of someone else's living space
and something else i can't remember but thought was beautiful
for all i touched today
keyboard keys
a paper cup warm with coffee
broken red plastic pieces
the messiness of my hair
a wet sponge
the small of his back
for all i heard today
construction in the building
a song
my own laugh
the echo inside of a piano
screeching brakes
the jingle of a dog's collar
deep breaths in and out
alcoholics in a room speaking the language of the heart
and a sniffle
coupled with a million thoughts floating by like little red balloons
a million chances to not attach and be here now instead
for all that happens when i pay attention to what's happening
for all that i felt
like maybe there really is a god
and all i have is enough
the physical sensation of butterflies with wings on fire flapping in my chest
to surrender to the sadness
the fine line of taking it just a touch too far
for the word indulgence
that god keeps me right sized
that there are things i don't want to look at but if god says it's time, it's time
making it to meetings no matter what
raising my hand
getting honest
reaching out to someone in more pain than me
reaching out to someone who has what i want
being useful where ever god puts me
that every being is a living message
"free basing on heartache"
"that's the first true thing i've heard you say so far tonight"
"it's not going to kill you"
"relapsing is hell"
thank god for god
thank god you picked up the phone
thank god i am not my thoughts
thank god i am an alcoholic with a second chance

Monday, January 9, 2012

The cat's bark.

thank you

hot laundry fresh out of the dryer
narrow staircases
books on audio
"you are the teacher that you've been waiting for"
compassionate alarms
waking the fuck up again and again
to treat my relationships as a spiritual practice and not my salvation
lolo available on the late night
that sometimes i need to be told it's time to be quiet and kind to myself
to live in my body without the story
for static in my clothes
homemade onion soup
and oatmeal cookies
to have a home to make things in
that poppa is just down the street
"you may only know that you use to hurt and now you don't"
throwing out my old ideas of what a the perfect relationship is suppose to look like
that sitting in a meeting listening to people talk about god does wonderful things to my insides
for when the sun goes down and i realize that i'm still sober and i just might make it another day without a drink
for the softness of sweetheart
coupled with questions that shake shit up
and answers that rise to meet the occasion
and truths that set me free
an apartment that is clean and pristine
for swept floors and windowsills
the serenity and simplicity in white colored things
swallowing hard truths about myself. chug. chug. chug.
god speaking through everyone and everything all the time
to imagine who i might be when i turn it around to me
amazement at my ability to let go of so many material things
and hope for the same willingness let go of some old pains
my ego hiding under the need for urgency
that i'm not my thoughts and almost everything isn't really my business
"God gave him to you. He's a gift."
making friends with the wind
that if i fight with reality, i will lose every time
a bathtub full of water with no bubbles
still finding my voice
for the simple truth, i cannot do coke lines like a lady
the happy pants mix
for my sponsor always being on the other line kind and loving
that my bf is perfect exactly as he is

and with god, we're all enough today.