Monthly Archives: June 2020

Deal With

Deal with: (v) to take action regarding a person or situation

If you will permit me, I shall refer to this as the “Brock principle.”

When I was in high school, we had a fellow in our class named Brock.

Brock was annoying.

No one wanted him around.

Yet at the same time, there wasn’t one of us that wished to come off as “the bully”—to chase him from our presence. So often, we kept Brock around so long that we ended up being crude, if not rude in our comments, requiring his exit.

You couldn’t win with Brock:

  • If you ignored him, you felt like a big, fat, stupid bigot.
  • If you accepted him, you felt like a big, fat, stupid idiot.
  • If you tried to tolerate him, you just felt big, fat and stupid.

I feel much the same way about arrogance.

Unlike Brock, arrogance will try to change its name to get into your life, your party or your fellowship.

Sometimes it arrives under the name “confidence.”

Other times, “knowledgeable.”

And on occasion, even “considerate to a fault.”

But it cannot hide.

Arrogance is the human emotion coming from other people that we have absolutely no capacity to deal with, because our own arrogance becomes jealous, throws a tantrum and runs out of the room.

Deaf

Deaf: (adj) unable to hear

Yes, I have been at a party when depleted chip dip and a lack of musical choices has prompted a theoretical discussion, which everyone initially pretended to enjoy. And I quote:

“If you had to lose one of your senses, which one would you be willing to forfeit?”

We went around the room. Each person mentioned the rejected sense and briefly explained why he or she thought they could survive without that particular gift.

When they came to me, I was legitimately stumped.

Although many people before me insisted that if they had to be without a sense (and taste buds were not included) they would choose to be deaf.

Many of them cited that Ludwig von Beethoven was deaf—”and look at the beautiful music he made.”

Of course, we must realize—we do not know all the details of Mr. Beethoven’s situation, because he was somewhat unable to articulate his condition.

But when I considered all my senses, I realized how frightening it would be to be senseless.

What would it be like to drop a sense?

So my answer was kind of existential.

I proclaimed, “I choose all of them. For there are times that I cannot see, or I will become judgmental. There are occasions that smelling is useless because the present world around me is just one big stink-bomb. On occasion, I must withdraw my touch because it can be misinterpreted. And of course, I must needfully be deaf, or I will hear things that will cause me to remember too long and hold grudges. So to answer your question, I will practice living without all the senses—just in case one departs.”

I had two reasons for my exaggerated answer.

First, I thought it offered a profound point.

Secondly, since it was supposed to be a party, I was hoping that the threat of a philosophical discussion would get us back to playing more music …

… and buying more dip.

Deadline

Deadline: (n) the time by which something must be finished or submitted

Don’t.

Don’t use a deadline.

It will just leave you standing in line, waiting to be dead.

It is the worst idea that anyone ever came up with as far as human beings are concerned.

We are a species that will fret over nothing—so it is a good idea not to give us anything.

I will not take a deadline.

If someone insists on it, I make sure that they push it far enough into the future that I can easily and comfortably finish the project a week in advance.

There is no power in waking up fervently needing to get something done.

There is no rest in going to bed wondering if you should be allowed the luxury of sleep—since the deadline is looming.

Deadlines were created by people who now have enough money that they do not have to observe a deadline.

They like to be served by jumping monkeys and nervous cockroaches, who scuttle their way into completion, never totally joyful over the victory.

Even though all of us have the deadline of dying, God does not tell us when it is.

Can you imagine?

If the deadline was far enough away, we wouldn’t give it a thought.

If the deadline for our demise was coming up, we would try to be faithful—through an ocean of tears.

God, nature and our health snatch us when we least expect it and sometimes chaos does it earlier.

If it were any other way, we’d be bumblers—from our birth to last breath.

Don’t allow yourself to be at the mercy of a deadline.

And if someone demands it, make sure you give yourself enough room that you can get it done early—and spend the rest of the time taking deep breaths and carving apple slices.

Deadhead

Deadhead: (n) a person using a free pass

Just to be candid with you, when my children were growing up, I often called them “deadheads.”

It was that glassy-eyed look, which they would sport when arriving for breakfast, believing that if nothing was happening outside, then nothing need happen inside their own heads.

I taunted them about this profile because it does not disappear simply because you cease to be an adolescent.

For if you believe you’re going to respond to what is happening, but stay disconnected until you have confirmed there is activity afoot, you will not only fail to be ready for the opportunity, but will find yourself resentful that you weren’t given more time to prepare.

The secret to life is no secret.

It’s completely obvious.

The whole temperature of Planet Earth is geared to three different emotions, and our job is to know when to use them:

  1. Care
  2. Aware
  3. Dare

Often we arrive and somebody is already hurt. There’s pain in the air and suffering has made its mark. Being able to dip into a heart filled with grace and provide care is ushering heaven to Earth.

Sometimes there’s a chance to do something truly significant, but it is buried under inconvenience or arrives on a day when we have already determined that “we’re too busy.” Yet, for those who are aware and have tuned their ears, eyes and passions to possibility, these little treasures can carry us into the future and place us in great positions.

And we must realize there are occasions when fear, anger or bigotry has shut down the world around us, and it is time to step out of the box of conformity and do something unexpected—and provide immediate benefit.

Can we dare to do it?

So to avoid being a deadhead, you must travel with care, aware and dare tucked into your saddlebags, so you are ready to set up camp and start the fire.

Dead to the World

Dead to the world: Sound asleep or unconscious

“In the world you have tribulation.”

It is a statement attributed to Jesus of Nazareth, but it easily could become a populist favorite.

It’s an elongated version of “life sucks.”

Of course, if you understand the mindset of Jesus of Nazareth, he looked at the world and its philosophical approach as a comedy of errors performed by a calamity of fools.

Is there such a thing as the world outside the world?

Or is this world inside the world we live in?

I think the world is best defined as human beings trying to complicate matters in an attempt to look smarter.

Every time I hear someone say they’re going to organize their affairs, I realize what they’re trying to do is actually complicate them. Organizing should make you end up with less difficulty and smaller problems.

But that’s not the way the world thinks.

So if we’re going to hold a Presidential election, we require sufficient strife, controversy, scandal and brattiness to hold the attention of a public which has been taught that if there isn’t a struggle, then it really isn’t accomplishing anything.

I remind myself daily to be “dead to this world.”

  • Not sleepy, even though that’s nice.
  • Not checking out.
  • But being careful not to check in too frequently.

If you stay on the fringe, you can see the scenery.

That’s what I believe.

The deeper you move into the center of the circle, the more encircled you will become.

The world can be defined as life inhabited by grownups who remember that their parents looked miserable—and they are honoring the tradition.

Feel free to die to that kind of thinking and be resurrected to the joys of individuality, which may make you less famous, but will also prevent you from becoming infamous.

Dead

Dead: (adj) no longer living; deprived of life

This can’t be the definition: “No longer living, deprived of life.”

Simply stated, the definition of “dead” is “not breathing.”

For I will tell you—I meet people all the time who are no longer living and certainly seem to be deprived of life.

But they’re still sucking up air.

And they’re often taking that air to spray the contents of the room with negativity, prejudice or snobbery.

Long before we die, some die.

And if we’re still alive when we stop breathing, there’s very little about us that can truthfully be dead.

If our name evokes a smile, if reading a bit of correspondence we sent brings a tear, and if our picture on the wall hearkens to jubilant times, it’s hard to pronounce us dead.

No tomb exists for brilliance.

So what kills us?

What causes us to give up on living long before we give up on breathing?

On the other hand, what would prompt someone to desire to stay alive to the centennial birthday, just to bitch and complain about living conditions?

So I don’t know whether elongated breathing time is a blessing or a curse. If your life is miserable, it is extending the misery, which may just be simulating spending three days in hell.

And if you’re overjoyed—on your way to make love and change the world—and you get hit by a semi, your breathing is snuffed but your living soars on.

I have no desire to be philosophical in this matter and I’m not trying to root out an existential truth to make you think I’m deep and cerebral.

I just choose to believe that dying happens when we stop breathing.

But we can never truly be dead if we have a grasp of greatness …

… and a sense of the significant.

Deacon

Deacon: (n) an appointed or elected officer of a church

I can’t remember who told me this, so I apologize for not being able to attribute it to someone directly.

But in describing the chain of command, this individual told me that it is divided into three sections:

At the bottom is de-shit-cleaner.

Next up, de-shit-kicker.

And at the top is de-shit.

Perhaps a little over-simplistic, but in every organization, there seems to be someone who believes themselves to be in charge, another individual who determines themselves to be the enforcer of the rules, and then, a person or people who spend all their time cleaning up the messes and making the daily bread bake well.

This latter would be the deacon of a church.

A church is like any other corporation—in the sense that it has a mission which is often sullied by repetitive duties.

It may be fine to be the priest, delivering the sermons or the elder, telling everybody where to stand and where to go.

But someone has to unclog the women’s toilet at least twice a month.

Someone has to gather up all the bulletins left behind by parishioners, who swore they wanted to “take it with them.”

Someone has to check the hymn books for crayon marks from bored children.

Someone has to break up the rift between two sisters in Christ who have, for some reason or another, just discovered they can’t stand one another.

There is a deacon in every situation.

It is the person who knows that worshipping God does not make people godly.

They are still full of themselves, mistakes, carelessness and apathy—as they head out the door and wiggle and wobble back to their private retreats.

De Facto

De facto: (adj) actually existing, especially when without lawful authority

There aren’t enough moms and dads in the world for all the children born to this planet.

Mainly, some of these folks who could have filled the job became weary in well-doing and fainted from the responsibility.

On this Father’s Day, I was hooked up on a Zoom call with all my “children.”

I actually fathered five boys.

One of them was killed through a hit-and-run car accident, and one was lost through a miscarriage.

But along with my three “birthers,” three other young men crossed my path. They were in the clutches of a father who was ill-suited for the position, and in danger of passing the destruction in his own life into theirs.

I had a choice.

Was I going to intervene and help the mother of these children escape the bondage, and welcome them into my household?

Or was I going to keep my nose to myself and continue my journey with my own offspring?

Life is having the humility to know that you’re insufficient while living in the arrogance of “what the hell.”

Because if you’re humble all the time, you will passively talk yourself out of anything that isn’t red-letter law. And if you’re just arrogant, without humility, you become just like the father who brought these children into peril.

So today, as I talked to these now-grown men who passed through my house, who now have families of their own, I recognize that I have become “de facto Dad” to a whole horde of people over time.

Maybe in a perfect world, they should have been with their biological parents, but since perfect never shows up…

 I did my best impersonation.