“I heard people in meetings sharing about peeling onions. They said they peel layer after layer until it’s all gone! What the hell is that all about?" I demanded in the general direction of my sponsor.
“Zealotry, it’s about zealotry. I peel my onions too. I have many layers of dried up, paper-thin, rhetoric that I use to protect myself. I have to slit this papery husk and eject myself from the illusion to get at the living and vital usefulness underneath.”
“Then I try to let God decide where is the best place to add my flavor. Stew is good but salad is a treat. I can go anywhere once the waste is stripped away.”
“What about the issues you haven’t worked out yet?" I bait my sponsor.
“Well, those are other onions,” is all she would say.
Allow a child to make you laugh.
Too far to turn back to the origin,
not quite close enough to my destination;
I am halfway home.
I sometimes forget where I have come from,
forget too where I’m bound.
I gently remind myself I’m making progress
no matter what I know.
I am not where I started,
not where I am going,
but I am not without.
There is plenty to do and much to look forward to.
I lift my feet one at a time, left then right.
I try to keep the steps equally spaced,
to prevent past curves and circles.
Lost is not as bad as it sounds
though I do dream of clarity,
stone -free shoes
and a home cooked meal when I arrive.