Drinking Alcohol taught me how to fly
Then it took away the sky....

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Detox..Thoughts




Originally posted Friday, June 26, 2009  on
 steveroni.blogspot.com


DEE-TOX! A FEW THOUGHTS

Now that it is Friday, I am particularly glad to be home, for it is my night to attend a small meeting at "detox". This is a locked area of room-and-board in Naples where people go to slowly have removed from their bodies whatever they were using to make themselves 'feel good' (Detoxification!).

Average stay is usually 4-6 days, and so if I see any of them more than once it would be at an AA meeting, or when I pick them up to go to a meeting. A guy asked me this morning (at 6:30 AM) "Why do you take meetings to Detox--after you've been sober 35 years?"

Good question! "I really don't know. I've stopped asking 'Why' about AA work. It's simpler to just do it, whatever it is."

(LATER, to myself) Wait! I DO know why I feel drawn to detox for a meeting. That is where it seems to begin, for some. For me, I need to observe that beginning stage of "soberism".  Many years of sobriety can create a tendency to become distant from "What it was like".

Sure, I attend usually two meetings a day, Big Book, Step, and Tradition meetings each week.  Even with some service work, I still find that NOTHING brings my chronic, fatal disease so close to home--to reality--as meeting those suffering their first days and nights in a Detox unit.

This is where the hair of the bow meets the violin strings. WITHOUT that 'meeting' there will be no music played. THAT'S why I feel blest to be allowed to share my Experience, Strength and Hope with newcomers.

At Detox tonight were 6 patients, and six of us from outside. Of the incarcerated six, two slept, one said he never had a drink in his liar--oops, I meant LIFE! And three seemed as if they thought we'd meet again.

After the meeting--outside--the six of us (I recall Megan and Alma and Jerry) shared another thought--we knew we had been where we were supposed to be for that hour tonight! Thank You, God. Thank you, AA. Thank you, Blogger Peeps!

In love and service,
Steve E

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

THE WAY TO LOVE by De Mello



THE WAY TO LOVE 

by Anthony De Mello is less about acquiring, more about "letting go", ALL about love. Several of us meet each Tuesday or Wednesday at Starbucks for a read-and-study session of this wisdom of “Letting Go”.

I love what this book has taught me and others, defining what love IS and what it is NOT. And OH! How wrong I--and others-- have been! In fact, I SO believe in the message this small book contains, that I keep two of them (new) in my bike trunk for many months. (SOME day, I'll be inspired to bestow ownership on someone else.)

The scene this morning...We sit outside. I am the last one to leave our small group this morning about 9:15 AM. My bike starts nice, helmet on, ready to go....and a car pulls up RIGHT IN FRONT of me. Immediately I'm having bad thoughts, as a girl gets out of car to go into Starbucks, and she and the driver have me locked in the prison of a parking space. UGH!

What happens next, she walks in front of her car, and stoops down to pick up something, then walks over to me and hands me my treasured book, which I must have dropped--”The Way To Love”.

Only moments before we guys were reading in De Mello that, “...love is an attitude, a disposition (and) this kind of love radiates outward to the world of things—and persons.”

I wait for the “girl” and her companion to park and walk past my bike. I climb off and hand her a new, clean copy of the book. She seems overjoyed! We shall never cross paths again.

In closing this short story I MUST write, “There is NOTHING on earth which contributes more to a joyous heart than to have given a gift...anonymously.”

(I tried to relate this blip of a happening without pride, real or false. Hope it worked—I'll never know!)

--steveroni

4/19/2015

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

LIVE, LEARN, LIVE


THIS IS HOW WE LIVE AND LEARN...
or is it "learn...and LIVE?"


--a short story. Young man came into a meeting last night, his first in three weeks! Always the "quiet one"...sober a couple months.  He sat there for the hour meeting and he who never says a word, began to speak:

"I listen to what you people tell me, but...two nights ago I had dinner with my girlfriend. SHE ordered for herself a margarita, and for me a nice Lowenbrau (beer). I stared at the bottle of beer for how long I don't know, was ready to reach out and quell my fire, when I heard the words.

"It was a story in our Big Book, about a sober guy who felt so strong, and "healed" that he ordered a scotch to dump into his milk. Then one more, because the first went down fine. He was found three weeks later in a trash can in New York...and woke up in a hospital.


"Few sentences after that story was a line which read, 'An alcoholic...will be absolutely unable to stop drinking on the basis of self-knowledge...'

"Well, I want you people to know I thought about all that, and just reached out and pushed that beer away." (End of story)

Some will know of what I write. Others will not but I experienced a strong pushing feeling to get it out there on my blog. It's called "live and learn"...I call it "learn...and LIVE!"  (I did!)

(NOTE: I've changed a few facts to avoid copyright problems, and breaking of anonymity, but the conversation is intact.)

--steveroni 
May 13, 2015

Monday, May 11, 2015

MASTER'S TOUCH

I'm Two days late in posting, so I missed OLN.
But readers can still check on others'poetry:
by clicking d'verse poets pub's
OPEN LINK NIGHT #148

A Marcy Purdy photograph

During year 1941 I was chosen to read a poem (because I played a violin)--and the words had no meaning whatever for me.

SEVENTY years later I read the same poem to a group of 150 sober alcoholics--and I cried, (could hardly finish reading) realizing the recovered miracles sitting in front of me in that room...


"THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND"
(MY STORY)

Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer
thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin.
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who'll make it two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
going for three". . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
came forward and picked up the bow;
then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
and tightening up the strings,
he played a melody, pure and sweet,
as sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
with a voice that was quiet and low,
said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
and going - and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand -
what changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the masters hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
and battered and torn with sin,
is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much like the old violin.

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
a game, and he travels on;
he's going once, and going twice -
he's going - and almost gone!

But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd
never can quite understand

The worth of a soul, the change that's wrought
by the touch of the MASTER'S hand.

~Myra B. Welch


Monday, October 13, 2014

Vivian Maier "A FANTASY" for Magpie 141



Click HERE
for Magpie Tales


VIVIAN MAIER...A FANTASY

"Not yet", said he--to the one named Vivian
who had just dis'barked her amphibian, 
(her private way to travel
without all the public babble.)

Inspector Maier, frequently called 
upon to investigate solutions of "the
insolvable" crimes, gathered evidence
through use of smoky mirrors.  Also a

Kodak Brownie, and strong reflecting light
completed her bag of tools.  
Set free to investigate and roam
She'd solve the crime--then rob the home.

A professional sleuth no longer...
Vivian Maier died a pauper.
Trapped by her own mirrors and light
Viv shot her last shot...gave up the fight.

NOTE: Suspecting Police 
had installed a Brownie 
behind each reflective glass
to catch this famous dowdy...

--steveroni


Sunday, October 5, 2014

FIREWORKS

Magpie Tales is HERE


A BURNING DESIRE
(haiku)

Burning desire
Way back there my house on fire
Men shooting their guns.

I remember when
There was no fence here at all.
Men set posts at night.

Why this barby wire?
Keep bad men out--or me in?
Neither accomplished...

Those people back there
Have no clue whut's gonna happen
(Mountain will blow up...)

Explosives planted
Everywhere. Yes, I did it.
Fireworks at nine.

--steveroni Oct 2014

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

IN THE PARK



IN THE PARK

Slowly you walk with old man,
in city where both live,
through greens and trees
in a park

Listen. Shhhhh. In breeze,
leaves, whispering 
accompaniment to lovely song
of a lark.

Sitting on wooden bench,
with ancient, trusty knife--
for just the two of you he
carves II...your mark.

Other things happen,
Hot dogs with relish, 
ice cream, chocolate.
Ah! A spark...

"Dear Madam, you have
made bright my day.
We walked, we talked,
you held this withered hand,
and now..........time 
to debark.
It is dark."

--steveroni
10/10/2014

Sunday, September 28, 2014

The Neighborhood.

MAGPIE is HERE


The Neighborhood

They said,
(By the way, 
who IS "they"?)
Anyway, they say,
"The Terraplane will 
fit like an aeroplane". 

The condo 'hood
above ground stood--
Plenty space to play.
Underground pipe
for children who like 
to seek...and to hide
(Don't have to find!)

In time (after) great flood
a subdivision built
Big boat, lots animals
with Noah settled nearby
in mud, muck, and mire,
discovered again
How to make--grin-- fire!

Now, only problem left--
be certain--make a list
and check it twice, thrice.
For the 
Groc'ry
Is far
away.....

--steveroni


Sunday, September 21, 2014

GIRL WALKING




Click HERE for MAGPIE info


GIRL WALKING

She walking, eyes full of tears
knows not where she go
nor seem to care
any more

as that river, overflowed with 
melting mountain snow-ice,
flood and current carried 
house away

like nicely appointed two-storied 
scow, she watched floating 
downstream, around bend,
her home

possessions, all destroyed. her bike,
computer, photos and books
everything she liked
forever gone

Where now to go, run, hide, 
bide time to think, start at the end
and end at begin
again

as little one walks, certain that
water rise no higher
than her boot tops.
Swishh...swishh


--steveroni




Tuesday, September 16, 2014

ACCIDENT?



courtesy: MAGPIE TALES


ACCIDENT?
(attempted Haiku)

Oh my God, I am
beginning to remember...
my dear I hit you. 

Over a trivial 
triviality we fought.
And I thought you ought

be nicer to me.
As your head hit the marble
I took to the bottle

and drank it all. 
Now your body...what to do?
(You won't feel a thing.)

--steveroni


"Morning curtains" conjures an idyllic situation/scene.  I enjoyed disturbing it a bit, almost like a child smearing up an artist's freshly painted work.