Tomorrow I Climb

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Rolled out like a towel in the sand.

Just enough to get the feet wet.

The past soon washed up and took away my capacious plans.

Tears still covering the pages of my amends.

 

Epic are the steps to a book…

Prefaced with ‘always ask to be forgiven.’

And, with just a few words…

‘that is no way to make a living.’

 

The stairs up from the discomfort of mistakes deep and wide.

Beached and alone could not regain my pride.

First step, a love letter to self.

Then tomorrow, I climb.imageedit_4_4865301426

 

Sober for a Day

Sipping from a toxic cup of jealousy, my hand shakes from the reverie.

I remember her words of observance,

as if only yesterday,

‘look me in the eye when you lie to me.’

Guess it didn’t matter who was wrong or right.

Could never hold a drunken gaze.

Always lost for fright of sight.

With the illusion of not wanting to let go,

always holding me down.

Forever ,searching my ‘maybe’ wilderness.

History has plagued me with misguided adventures.

Searching for a way out of donut holes.

Just another Robin Hood fishing for treasure without a pole.

My glance is so much different today than yesterday.

With a litany of laundry lists.

Inventories of fallen angels.

There is never an end to lies…webbed

and,

tangled.

Hence, my sight not so finely aged.

To insist my victims believe I am a sober sage.

Someone Else’s Demons

 

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What is the point?

I asked myself this…today.  As I attended to the daily ritual of finding peace in nature.  Others go to church…I wander in the woods.

My Blog, RandomwordbyRuth, tends to be…let say, random!  I tend to guide my feelings poetically, but there is always a guard standing over the words.

Lately, I have been pestered by demons.  Demons I have created.  Actions that have been shameful.  Being in recovery, amends is commonplace, for me.  Still there are moments in time when regret for past and current actions…dwell in my mind…like a memory you just cannot shake.

No atonement can repair these discretion’s.  As far as, I am concerned.  I’m okay with that.  Today, though, it occurred to me that many persons who I read, and many persons who follow my blog have…someone else’s demons!

It is someone else’s demons that has plagued my usually tranquil thoughts.  Someone else’s demons, to those who are thoughtful, become our beasts.  And, this is where it gets confusing.

It is relative to me to know…that another person’s past, has to be part of mine.  I had no choice in the matter.  IT had been handed to me similar to

‘Pass the salt, please.’

For almost six years the burden of conduct unbecoming my kin, is now a constant, why did this happen?

I cannot give away the act or misdeed.  I cannot describe to anyone, for fear of unveiling a monster, a history that is not only criminal.  It is beyond…insanity.  With every blog I post.  With every poem inscribed.  I can only take my pain so far.  For if I unveil the awful truth of, someone else’s demons, lives are at stake.

Someday, the truth will prevail.  And, I can shed what sits in the back of my mind everyday.  The abandoned toy in the corner of a room, not used, not discarded.

So, for now, someone else’s demons will have to be rectified with…

Love dares me to care for someone that…typically, I could and would not.

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Someone Else’s Demons

What is my window?

How does my pain grow?

Why is it you know, what I know?

Where does this Canterbury Tale go?

Sooner, later, will love cover the stoned wall?

Depicting once upon a time…

A forever rummage sale of borrowed saints.

Oh, darling, isn’t this town quaint?

My past is nothing but unpublished quotes.

I am merely a domestic,

seasonally shedding an indignant coat.

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This story-line is an organic haven.

To me, love’s hidden shadowy key.

The search for a happy ending always swaying in the trees.

I hope to be the person Mother Nature expected me to be.

-dedicated to a little warrior named, Chey.

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Fear the Underdog

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“Convinced I never could belong, and vowing I’d never settle for any second-rate status.  I felt I simply had to dominate in everything.

Work or play…As this attractive formula for the good life began to succeed, according to my then specifications of success, I became deliriously happy.

But when an undertaking occasionally did fail, I was filled with resentment and depression that could be cured only by the next triumph.  Very early, therefore, I came to value everything in terms of ‘victory or defeat…’ ‘all or nothing.’  The only satisfaction I knew was to win.

Only through utter defeat are we able to take our first steps toward liberation and strength.  Our admissions or personal powerlessness finally turn out to be firm bedrock upon which happy and purposeful lives may be built.”

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-Bill Wilson

1962

Many people do not realize that Bill Wilson had been a practicing Buddhist.  That many philosophies commonly  thought of as the foundation of Alcoholics Anonymous…are actually snippets of Buddhism.

I had a sponsor…Most likely, my fifth!  Seemingly, it was difficult for me to get my shit together.  And, I used every excuse in the book…to avoid being sponsored by someone.  Taken under a wing and told what to do.

That is until I met Allen.  He had been a combat vet.  A was a quadriplegic and…importantly, he was wise beyond my years.

His most prophetic words to me?

‘Love, God and Money…will be your top temptations.  Always be weary of them…’

Fear the Underdog

Somehow,recently, caught in the events of life, for life does not get better when you are clean, you are supposed to get better…I guess that is generally, how it is supposed to work.  Torn between the need to care for my aging parents, upcoming disabling surgery, my spouse dealing with her own demons…etc,etc.

Amongst all of this, I forgot Allan’s Golden Rule.

When, as an addict, in the midst of the chaos it derives, I made money, I had toys, I for all intensive purposes…had it all.

Yet, I could not love.  I didn’t believe in people.  I did not trust.  I had been a product of wrong doings done to me and therefore, I turned them out and set them upon others.

In recovery, with a few years behind my medallions, I trained myself, as a practicing Buddhist, to love everyone.  To let those around me, those who meant the most to me, just how I felt.

Long story…short, this, ideology, bit me in the ass…the other day.  

Honesty?  Is it the best policy?

Cutting myself some slack, I do have a poet’s heart.  I do tend to give all to a relationship.  I do not collect friends with a cyberspace thumb’s up.  I have a handful or a bit more, of persons I deem able to handle…my spoken words.

I will not give away names.  I will not offer examples.  I will say this,

I drank at the ripe old age of 8.  I became a steady drinker at the even ripper age of 10.  I smoked pot, dropped acid, snorted, popped and whatever else…on a regular basis, by the age of 15.

It took me years to build my empire.  A house, the kids, the dogs, the money, the toys…

It took little time to tear it down.

As I took my ‘Zen’ walk this late morning.  Beautiful, out of the ordinary day, in New Hampshire.  Warm enough to make you smile.  Brisk enough to make for less toil.  Quiet enough to focus on…

What had been my part?

What could I have done differently?

and,

more importantly,

Why is it we speak of love in our hearts like a song we cannot quite recall?

I suppose for my part…I am too much for some people.  I get it.  My mother told me that years ago…but I had been to drunk to listen.

As for the last to questions?a a

Well, I do not know if it had been the day.  The beauty.  The alignment of the clouds.  I really do not think I am supposed to know how I get inspired…honestly.

But I did come up with this…

Of course, I will open my heart again.  I will have a new guarded perception walk.  Walking with purpose and love….I will, however, carry a bigger stick!

Lesson Relearned

Always, always, fear the underdog.  We are everywhere!

we all make promises we can't keep And they're paper thin but cut so deep... -G.Potter
we all make promises we can’t keep
And they’re paper thin but cut so deep…
-G.Potter