Category Archives: A words

Answerable

dictionary with letter A

Answerable: (adj) required to justify or responsible to or for.

I find fads to be comical–mainly because they’re a backlash to some previous popular notion that has now fallen out of favor and is being replaced by what is usually an extreme contradiction.

Many years ago, when ministers were falling from grace or into the arms of women named Grace, a nervous twitch went through the religious community as it tried to make sure such indiscretions didn’t happen again.

It was decided that the fallen preachers had fallen prey to too much freedom–that they were not answerable to anyone else. So for a season an attempt was made to confirm that everyone who was part of the clergy had someone else they had to answer to concerning their actions.

You see, here’s the problem: just because you have an overseer does not mean you’re going to listen to him.

Submission is not placing people under subjugation, but rather, a selection we all make when we realize we need each other and that we are not comfortable with self-sufficiency.

I find myself to be a leader but also a debtor to all sorts of individuals who come my way, who in some way, shape or form, have an excellence that I have not achieved.

I take it very seriously, but not because I’m trying to be answerable. I do so because I become happier when I don’t lean to my own understanding, but instead, absorb all available wisdom.

Just the other day I was driving down the road at about 65 miles an hour, when suddenly a large blackbird flew into my windshield, bounced off and fell onto the road. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw it lying very still and dead.

It bothered me.

I wasn’t concerned that my windshield almost got broken or wondered why the stupid bird decided to kill itself on my watch.

For a few seconds I allowed myself to be the bird–to imagine my own demise as the result of such a tragic flight.

It ached. It hurt.

I didn’t think about it a whole lot more.

But I realized that when something crosses my path, I need to be answerable for how I treat it.

 

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Answer

dictionary with letter A

Answer: (n) 1. a response to a question. 2. a solution to a problem or dilemma.

“I want answers.”

I’ve said it. And I have certainly heard it fall from the lips of friends and human beings passing before me.

It sounds noble, doesn’t it?

I’ve even made the mistake of trying to provide some insight or guidance to those who have proclaimed they require wisdom.

Yet I’m careful not to speak on things I haven’t experienced myself. As tempted as we are to pass on stories we have read on the Internet, they could be fostered by fools like me.

But now, since I have a bit of dust on my chaps from the journey, I pause when people ask for answers, and wait to see what follows.

It usually comes in one of three forms:

  1. “We want answers because we sure don’t think this is going to work.”
  2. “We want answers because the ones that have been provided for us are not very pleasant.”
  3. “We want answers because we want to be the first ones to come up with the answer.”

As you can see:

  • #1 is already discouraged.
  • #2 is pissed off.
  • And #3 is driving a huge Cadillac of ego.

So what am I listening for? What would I like to hear in my own inner voice?

“I want answers and I’m willing to be wrong and even learn something new to get them.”

Because let’s be candid with one another–if what we’re doing isn’t working, it probably won’t work any better if we polish it up. Something has to change.

Politics won’t improve until it ceases to be a party contest. Religion must find a balance between the depravity of man and the all-blessed goodness of humans. And entertainment must consider the responsibility to inspire and not just alarm.

So I ask myself, do I want answers?

On some things.

On others … I need time to shed my stupidity.

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Anschluss

dictionary with letter A

Anschluss: (v) the annexation of Austria by Germany

Have you ever wondered what would have happened if somebody had caught little Jack before he became the Ripper, and told the lad never to play with knives?

Or maybe if there had been somebody in the house of little Johnny of the Booth clan, saying that black people aren’t really meant to be slaves?

It would have been nice if someone would have caught Jeffrey Dahmer yelling at a cat and mistreating one before he went on a killing rampage.

There are moments reserved for the brave.

They happen to all of us.

Yes, each and every one of us have “crazies” in our lives.

For instance, several people were responsible for Adolph Hitler–and because they didn’t want to interfere or be judgmental, they decided to let him proceed in his growing insanity.

It would have been wonderful if the British and the Americans would have made a big deal over Hitler annexing this little piece of Austria. Why? Because Hitler wasn’t ready for war at that point.

He thought he was. But what created his war machine was the confidence that grew in his troops as they conquered Europe.

Yes, by the time he got to annexing France, he became nearly unbeatable.

I thought about this a lot when I was a father, raising my children. Sometimes I was tired and it was easier not to make the object lesson, calling out bad behavior. Matter of fact, sometimes it seemed noble to “let one slide.”

But I rarely did.

Because facts are … the little confrontation you have today always eliminates the war which could rage later.

 

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Anoxia

dictionary with letter A

Anoxia: (n.) an absence of oxygen.

I felt like crap, if by saying that, you mean a discarded pile of useless waste lying in the corner, needing disposal.

I didn’t know why.

I knew I was sick. That doesn’t help very much. Being aware of illness only makes you clamor for a quick solution to get back to normalcy.

Sometimes that’s possible. A good night’s sleep is often the perfect elixir. But I had several opportunities to sleep and felt no better.

So I went to the doctor, who sent me to the hospital, and the first thing they did was put oxygen into my nostrils.

I felt very stupid having tubes coming out of my nose.

They explained that my oxygen level was not sufficient for me to get the air I needed to recover from my physical ailment. I tried to argue, but after a while felt silly objecting to something as simple as a breathing mechanism.

It was astounding.

Within an hour, just having oxygen put into my body and having the levels rise, made me feel so much better. It gave me the will to want to get well again instead of commiserating over a gloom of pending doom.

It was just oxygen–yet I needed it. I wasn’t getting it from the air. My lungs apparently had decided they were part-time labor.

But the introduction of the good stuff set in motion “good stuff” for my healing.

It got me thinking.

We’re so critical of people who are depressed, angry, poor or unmotivated.

  • We never consider that there’s a certain emotional oxygen required, the ability to tell the truth without fear.
  • How about spiritual oxygen? God is our God so we can find out how to be better people.
  • Certainly there’s a mental oxygen, which clears out the cobwebs in our brain, allowing fresh ideas to seep through.
  • And the simple physical oxygen of breathing, exercising and eating well can make us feel invincible.

I’m no longer afraid to be in need–because discovering the better things I can breathe in empowers me … to be made whole.

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Another

dictionary with letter A

Another: (adj & pron) a word used to denote an additional person or thing

I have just learned to go with it.

People often ask me how I’m able to write a column every day on the Internet. They think it’s impressive.

For me, impressive is someone digging a ditch on a ninety-five-degree day, or my food server remembering my exact order, complete with a side of horseradish.

But the reason I can write is because I don’t fight the first sensation that comes to me and try to improve on it too much. Most of the people I know who are writers fail at the task because they’re waiting for another idea.

They become too critical of their first instinct or try to complicate it or embellish it too much and lose the beauty of what I refer to as “slapping your face” inspiration.

Two immediate examples came to my mind when I read the word “another.” Both of them are comical in nature because they show how ridiculous we become when we are either too analytical or feel too entitled.

There is a story in the Good Book about the character John the Baptist sending his friends to ask Jesus the question, “Are you the one or should we look for another?”

It’s pretty funny. After all, there weren’t a lot of people doing miracles and railing against the religious system, while preaching a universal message of love.

But Jesus didn’t fuss. He just went out and did a good day’s business. Then he told the messengers to go back and report to John what they had seen. He left it to John to decide for himself if there was another.

On the other hand, there is the advice you get from people, usually older adults, when you’re a teenager, about romance, after your girlfriend breaks up with you.

“There are a lot of fish in the sea,” they proclaim.

You see, that’s fine if one fish is as good as another, but if you were thinking about getting a bowl and having a fish of your choice to be your lifelong pet, then some specific attributes would be required. (There’s a reason they call them “gold-fish.”)

Human beings are not like buses. You can’t miss the opportunity to love one and think another one is going to be coming around the corner real soon.

“Another” is a dangerous word. If we use it too often, we begin to believe that we are merely consumers who are being wooed by God and our fellow-humans with their wares.

If you ignore blessing too often and miss out on the moving of the Spirit … you might find yourself stuck with something much less satisfying than what was originally offered.

 

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Anosmia

dictionary with letter A

Anosmia: (n) the loss of the sense of smell, caused by injury, infection or the blockage of the nose.

There’s a name for it!

One of my greatest joys in doing this daily essay is discovering that there are words that have been set aside to describe much of the weirdness that I’ve experienced in my life.

I probably won’t remember the word in the moment that I need it, but it’s still nice to know that my predicament is common enough that somebody “worded” it.

Several years ago I had a sinus infection. I didn’t know it was a sinus infection, but all of the amateur doctors I’m acquainted with (who also double as friends and family) let me know that I did not have a common cold, but rather, common sinusitis.

I convinced myself that I got the condition from sleeping in a house where construction was going on and that sawdust had stuffed up my beezer. Of course, this is highly unlikely, but it sounded cool when relating my malady to others.

But one of the things I remember about the experience was that I stopped being able to smell anything. Food, bathroom aromas and even my own particular scent evaded my scrutiny.

At first I wasn’t bothered by this side effect, but then I began to wonder if I was stinking to other folks, and was unaware of it.

I did what every human being would do. I overcompensated:

  • Instead of splashing myself with cologne once, I did it three times.
  • A double application of deodorant.
  • And an extra minute or two in the shower, scrub-a-dub-dub.

It was at this point that I noticed that people were wincing as I walked by, so I decided I must be stinking horribly, so I doused myself even further.

Honestly, I’ve never had all my friends so glad to see me get over an ailment.

So I guess the moral of the story is: when you can’t smell yourself, it’s better to assume you’re okay. 

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Anorgasmic

dictionary with letter A

Anorgasmic: (n) an inability to achieve orgasm despite responding to sexual stimulation.

I found myself in the position where it was necessary, or at least presumed to be, to teach a class on human sexuality to a group of adults. (I clarify that they were adults, because once we started talking about sex, they actually turned into a bunch of giggling teens.)

Considering that sex is so important to our well-being and self-worth, we actually have an extremely flippant attitude about the subject. I will grant you, it’s not necessary to become intellectual in the discussion, but certainly, if we don’t get beyond whispering, smirking and leering, we will never understand how we are meant to co-exist, procreate and satisfy one another.

I think the greatest mistake is the assumption that men enjoy sex and women tolerate it.

Here is a simple fact: No one avoids anything that pleasures them. I have run across people who were either bored or dissatisfied with adventures that promised pleasure and only delivered a modicum of the proposed package.

It’s like going on a vacation and staying at a hotel, hoping to sun-bathe, only to discover that the swimming pool has been closed for repairs. No matter how much you try to make the local restaurants and shops interesting, the original goal taunts you.

Even though we consider ourselves to have a high-falutin’ society, our approach to sexuality lands somewhere between Neanderthal and Bedouin.

Basically, we believe that men are to be pleasured and women are to provide the pleasure.

Once I was able to convince my class to stop snorting and chuckling, we discovered that human sexuality is meant to be a mutual effort made by two people to achieve orgasm–no matter what it takes.

The ideal circumstance is to make sure that the female acquires pleasure. Then the male doesn’t have to feel the need to perform, but instead, can relish the interchange.

  • Yes, women would be much more interested in sex if they were having orgasms.
  • Men would have to spend much less time wooing them if they were trained in how to assist a woman in finding her own space and time.

But to do this, we must admit that men and women are more similar to each other than different … and we just might be one or two generations away from that conclusion.

 

 

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Anorexia

dictionary with letter A

Anorexia: (n) a loss of appetite for food which becomes a medical condition.

I am ill-suited to speak on this subject, similar to a cannibal discussing recipes with Martha Stewart.

I have never abstained from food. I don’t over-eat–it’s just that the idea of food is very pleasant to me, even though sometimes in the middle of chewing it, I realize that I’m getting little pleasure and positive reinforcement out of an experience that has the ability to levy great difficulty to my well-being.

I don’t know what causes anorexia. I’ve read about it. I’ve talked to people who suffer under the condition.

Matter of fact, there are times that I feel embarrassed to be in the presence of someone afflicted with the condition, because my heft might accidentally confirm their fears just through my visuals.

Unlike the anorexic, I am always looking for a mirror that favors me rather than one that points out a little “dab of flab.” I am always justifying the calorie count on some food I desire, to make it seem that it is either healthy or within the spectrum for acceptable consumption.

But I do know this–I do not grow impatient with those who find themselves oppressed by this mindset.

Because I have been around individuals who cannot fathom why I don’t “just eat less” or do something to lose weight, I understand that intolerance is unbearable. It makes me want to run and smooch with the nearest bratwurst.

Even though we do not have the cure for all diseases, and do not comprehend the whys and wherefores of every human foible, we can have the first fruits of compassion.

Anorexia is difficult for me because I find the gaunt boniness frightening and anti-human. But I must realize that the anorexic finds my obesity equally as obtuse and ugly.

Perhaps that’s the secret: to refuse to allow oneself the oversimplification of believing that what one thinks is really the truth … but always allowing for love and tenderness to surpass mere reasoning.

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Anomymous

dictionary with letter A

Anonymous: (adj) a person not identified by name; unknown name.

Sometimes I stumble across an adage or poem that is particularly clever, insightful or even artistic, and at the bottom is the word “anonymous.”

Obviously, it’s not.

  • Somebody wrote it.
  • Somebody thought it.
  • Somebody did it.

Yet over the years, a strange transition has occurred.

Here’s my opinion on that process: some person without an agent or an ego came up with an idea which he or she shared freely among friends.

One of those people realizes how obscure their companion is and feels compelled, on a journey to a far-away city, to share the inspiration. They are surprised at how responsive everyone is to the piece, and initially give credit to the friend who spoke it.

But then they think to themselves that since this buddy is never going to actually be in this far-away city, what would be the harm in taking bows for the composition?

Likewise, someone else in the room, who travels even further, decides to repeat the same process, stealing the thunder from the thief.

After a while, at a huge party somewhere far away, three or four people hear these words, and attribute it to several different individuals, generating an atmosphere of confusion.

Since no one is certain any longer who actually came up with the idea, it is determined to call it a draw and attribute it to Mr. or Mrs. Anonymous.

It also occurs in our everyday life in America. We have a nation of laws, regulations and general compliance within the citizenry, and believe that this temperate climate is achieved by human effort, never giving any credit to the spiritual training and the moral grounding that has been infused over generations.

We choose instead to attribute to religion or politics, and everything good is a by-product of our thinking or the latest craze.

In case you didn’t know, loving your neighbor as yourself is not anonymous.

If you weren’t aware, telling the truth did not spring from nothing.

Sometimes it’s a good idea to trace back great notions to their source, and therefore sit at the feet of wisdom instead of crinkling your brow … and pretending that the power that makes life work springs from magical four-leaf clovers.

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Anomaly

dictionary with letter A

Anomaly: (n) something that deviates from the normal, standard or expected

I liked music.

At eighteen years of age, I’m not so sure that I was totally devoted to a career in the field or whether there was a bit of laziness tied into the equation, because playing piano sounded easier than punching a time-clock. (After all, we get ourselves in the most trouble when we try to purify our motives instead of accepting them a trifle sullied.)

One afternoon during that eighteenth year, I took my girlfriend, who was soon to become my wife, into a back room of a loan company owned by my parents and sat down at a piano which had been given to our family, but because we had no room in our house, ended up stuck in the back corner of this lending institution.

I had never written a song before.

As a teenager, I sang in choir, a quartet and for nursing homes, pretending like it was a big gig at Madison Square Garden.

Yet on this day, I suddenly got this urge to compose. It was not stimulated by a professor at a college asking for an assignment, nor was it motivated by my ancestors, wishing that I would abandon all normal courses of occupation and pursue a musical path.

It was truly an anomaly.

  • It was contrary to what everybody wanted me to do.
  • It was an open, seething contradiction to my cultural training.
  • I sat down at that piano, and in the course of the next ninety-four minutes, wrote two original songs. I didn’t know if they were good and certainly was not confident they were great.

But something came out of me that wasn’t a conditioned response or a well-studied answer for a final exam.

It was mine.

Whether it was good or bland, it came from me. It excited me. It encouraged me to muster the perseverance to survive the critique of my society and even overcome my own fits of lethargy to pursue it.

It still excites me today.

Hundreds of songs later, I still feel as thrilled when pen goes to paper, words appear and musical notes cuddle up next to them.

No one in my family ever took the course of action which I chased, beginning with that afternoon in the back room behind that piano.

But it is the selection of that odyssey that has made me who I am.

There are two things you have to remember about an anomaly:

  1. It is never immediately accepted.
  2. It always takes more work than you expected.

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