Step 2- by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 

(step 2- we came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.)

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Sunrise on the Hills


I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light,
They gathered mid-way round the wooded height,
And, in their fading glory, shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown.
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance.
Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,
And rocking on the cliff was left
The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft.
The veil of cloud was lifted, and below
Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow
Was darkened by the forest's shade,
Or glistened in the white cascade;
Where upward, in the mellow blush of day,
The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.

I heard the distant waters dash,
I saw the current whirl and flash,
And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach,
The woods were bending with a silent reach.
Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell,
The music of the village bell
Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,
Was ringing to the merry shout,
That faint and far the glen sent out,
Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke,
Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke.

If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills! No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.

Selected Poems by Emily Dickinson


I had been hungry all the years-
My noon had come, to dine-
I, trembling, drew the table near
And touched the curious wine.

'T was this on tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.

I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's dining-room.

The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,--
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.

Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.

This link will take you to the essence of recovery nar-anon step 2 page!
http://www.essence-of-recovery.com/page21.html

Return to Pooh Corner
(by Kenny Loggins)

Christopher Robin and I walked along
Under branches lit up by the moon
Posing our questions to Owl and Eeyore
As our days disappeared all too soon
But I've wandered much further today than I should
And I can't seem to find my way back to the Wood

So help me if you can
I've got to get back
To the House at Pooh Corner by one
You'd be surprised
There's so much to be done
Count all the bees in the hive
Chase all the clouds from the sky
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh

Winnie the Pooh doesn't know what to do
Got a honey jar stuck on his nose
He came to me asking help and advice
And from here no one knows where he goes
So I sent him to ask of the Owl if he's there
How to loosen a jar from the nose of a bear

It's hard to explain how a few precious things
Seem to follow throughout all our lives
After all's said and done I was watching my son
Sleeping there with my bear by his side
So I tucked him in, I kissed him and as I was going
I swear that the old bear whispered
"Boy welcome home"

Believe me if you can
I've finally come back
To the House at Pooh Corner by one
What do you know
There's so much to be done
Count all the bees in the hive
Chase all the clouds from the sky
Back to the days of Christopher Robin
Back to the ways of Christopher Robin
Back to the days of Pooh
<img border="0" title="" alt="[Wink]" src="wink.gif" />

The LightHouse

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On jagged rocks, in stormy seas, there stands the LightHouse.

It stands alone, strong and silent, there stands the LightHouse.

In all weather, fair and foul, there stands the LightHouse.

Never wavering from it's lonely task, there stands the LightHouse.

Always true to it's mission and goal, there stands the LightHouse.

The guiding light the help the lost, there stands the LightHouse.

The symbol of security and strength, there stands the LightHouse.

Saving souls from crashing waves and rocks, there stands the LightHouse.

A beacon of hope to guide the way, there stands the LightHouse.

A stable point in a sea or turmoil, there stands the LightHouse.

On jagged rock in stormy seas, there stands the LightHouse.

"If" by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

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If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

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If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

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If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - "A Psalm of Life"

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!-
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they may seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act - act in the living present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead.

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Serving, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

A Poem on the Underground Wall
by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel



The last train is nearly due,
The underground is closing soon,
And in the dark deserted station,
Restless in anticipation,
A man waits in the shadows.

His restless eyes leap and scratch,
At all that they can touch or catch,
And hidden deep within his pocket,
Safe within its silent socket,
He holds a colored crayon.

Now from the tunnel's stony womb,
The carriage rides to meet the groom,
And opens wide and welcome doors,
But he hesitates, then withdraws
Deeper in the shadows.

And the train is gone suddenly
On wheels clicking silently
Like a gently tapping litany,
And he holds his crayon rosary
Tighter in his hand.

Now from his pocket quick he flashes,
The crayon on the wall he slashes,
Deep upon the advertising,
A single worded poem comprised
Of four letters.

And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding
The poem across the tracks rebounding
Shadowed by the exit light
His legs take their ascending flight
To seek the breast of darkness and be suckled by the night.

Drywood
By Cat Stevens
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You've got to learn, to brighten up your ways
Kick out your dull padded life
There's much to know, and no doors in space
They were only mirrors you imagined in your mind
Now that you've got no place to go
And you stand alone
Know that there's just one place to be
And it's in your soul, oh
Like drywood takes to fire the truth will come to you
Like streams that seek the ocean they will find ways through
Like morning meets the moon, my love will guide the way
It's time to wipe your eyes now, and awake
I've come to take you over, there's much for you to do
I've come to take you over, then it's up to you
_
Be like the light, in the shadows
Throw down your mask and be real
Don't wish to win, and don't mind to lose
That was just a cycle like a squirrel in a wheel
Now that you've got no place to look
And you stand alone
Know that's there's just one place to be
And it is your home, oh
Like fish that seek the water, the truth will come to you
Like leaves upon the soil, they will find ways through
Like flowers seek the sun, my love will guide the way
It's time to wipe your eyes now, and awake.
_
You say you're really with me but you only follow me around
How much you love me yes,
But I don't want the kind of love
I have to sit down and count
_
You think you're free and lucky but you're stuck behind a prison wall
How well you know yourself
But I see something else within you
That you don't see at all
You may give up your number, disowning all your wealth
You may sell all the pieces, but you'll
Never never never give up
Yourself.
_
Like drywood takes to fire the truth will come to you
Like streams that seek the ocean they will find ways through
Like morning meets the night's stars, my love will guide the way
It's time to wipe your eyes not, and awake
I've come to take you over, there's much for you to do
I've come to take you over, then it's up to you.
_