Category Archives: B words

Burden

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Burden: (n) a load, especially a heavy one.

Being able to define what a burden truly is may be a step toward maturity and a leap in humanity.

We are quick to complain of simple cumbersome circumstances. They are often temporary but we still lodge our formal objection.

Sometimes I don’t understand myself. I am fully aware that the universe does not favor me, yet somehow I anticipate front row seats, flowers at the backstage door and standing ovations for simple tasks.

Vanity is not merely propping up our better features. Vanity is when we believe our features should be sufficient without propping.

What is a burden? Because once we define it, then we certainly know, in the realm of the spirit, our mission is to make it as light as possible.

The burden should be light.

But until we conclude what burdens us, we are apt to invent new definitions for the condition based upon the color of our mood.

For instance, watching the grandchildren one week may be a treasure, but on the following Tuesday may seem to be a burden.

There are times that shopping for a new pair of shoes has the sniff of adventure, and on other occasions, just stinks.

We keep moving the poles, changing the dimensions and re-negotiating our grouchiness.

The true definition of a burden is something which is unexpected but proven to be necessary and therefore needs to be taken in stride as much as possible–so we don’t lose our good cheer.

Yet if we stubbornly insist that life should never sneak up on us, we will constantly be jumping out of our skin at the slightest inkling of evolution.

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Buoyant

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Buoyant: (adj) able or apt to stay afloat

I was nearly sixteen years old before I worked up the courage to take my shirt off and slide into a swimming pool with other people my age.

I was fat.

When you’re a teenager and fat, you’re convinced that everything is much more dramatic and even bulbous than it actually may be.

For instance, I was frightened that my lips were too big. Matter of fact, I asked my mother if there were any blacks in our ancestry. There weren’t. For you see, my lips weren’t too big–they only appeared that way when they were placed an inch-and-a-half away from a mirror.

I also thought I might have accidentally inherited women’s breasts. I was sure if I took my shirt off, someone would notice this, or if there was a doctor in the house it could be diagnosed. Of course, nothing was further from the truth. My belly was so big it made my chest look flat. Nevertheless, the notion lived and breathed in my mind.

So when I finally did work up the courage to get into the pool on one summery afternoon, I waded into the deep end, and when I stopped waving my arms, I realized I could stand in the water without having to tread.

I was so damned impressed with myself.

I was buoyant.

The rest of my friends swimming around me were ferociously trying to keep afloat by moving their arms and legs. But not me.

I was so proud of the discovery that I shared it with everybody in the pool. Many people were equally as astounded.

For a brief moment I gained the status of “the man who could float on water.”

I was empowered.

And then one of the adults who was in the pool with us (for some reason feeling the need to be truthful) swam over and explained to me and all my followers that the reason I was able to float in the water without moving my arms was that fat floats–is buoyant–and was lifting me up in the pool and holding me in place.

One of the girls I was desperately trying to impress crinkled her face as if trying to gain greater wisdom.

“So what you’re saying,” she said, “is that he’s like a beach ball–because you can’t drown a beach ball. It keeps popping to the surface.”

The grown-up nodded, feeling he had successfully achieved explaining the premise.

I lost my entourage. No one was impressed anymore.

For after all, how attractive is a human beach ball?

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bunting

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bunting: (n) patriotic and festive decorations made from cloth or paper, usually in the form of draperies,

I was only eighteen years old, and I drove to Columbus, Ohio, to see President Nixon. He was passing through town.

I wasn’t a particularly political teen, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity–to see a President of the United States. It also gave me a chance to get off school so I decided to go.

The atmosphere was festive. They had a band from some high school, a female singer to do the national anthem, and hundreds and hundreds of feet of bunting–red, white and blue as far as the eye could see, draped over everything in sight.

From a distance it was very impressive. But being the curious type, I inched my way forward.

As I got closer, I realized that since it was a hot day, the band members had unlatched the top buttons of their uniforms and unfastened their hats, losing some of the magnificence of the visual.

So I moved a little closer.

In no time at all, I wiggled my way within twenty-five feet of the girl in the prom dress and the tiara, who was about to sing the national anthem. She was dripping with sweat–I assume from a combination of heat and nerves. She didn’t look nearly as lovely.

Somehow or another, perhaps because of my honest-looking face, they let me get all the way up to the stage, standing two feet away from the colorful bunting. I inspected it carefully and saw that it was held on by staples, scotch tape and was wrinkled in many places due to being put up in haste. It was not very attractive.

The backstage area, where the President was to come through to give his speech, smelled like sweat with a hint of alcohol. And because there were two or three dogs wagging their tails nearby, there was a whiff of the woof.

I thought to myself, the closer I got to the experience, the less impressive it was. I registered that deep in my soul.

For perhaps the whole secret to our journey on Earth is realizing that the closer people get to us, the more real and genuine it should be.

The bunting was put up in minutes to last for a few hours, to be ripped down and thrown away.

It is frighteningly symbolistic of our political system, and the way we sometimes regard the important values of our culture.

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bunsen Burner

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bunsen burner: (n) a small adjustable gas burner used in laboratories.

I certainly hope we’re not going to be evaluated, judged or memorialized on our hidden fears. They’re hidden, right? Just where they should be.

It happened to me this morning when I read the words “Bunsen burner.” I found myself suddenly terrified, with a little tingling in my bowels.

I did not realize I had this memory of a Bunsen burner which is–pardon the expression–seared into my consciousness.

I was a sophomore in high school and arrived late to chemistry class on a day when Bunsen burners were going to be used for some experiment. I think we were going to take a beaker of fluid and warm it under the Bunsen burner to see what happened to the consistency–yet the exact purpose is beyond my recollection.

But because I arrived late, I ended up with the Bunsen burner due for retirement. The teacher warned, “Be careful. That one’s a bit tricky.”

Since I had never used a Bunsen burner before, I didn’t know what would make one temperamental. So I got it all hooked up, released the nozzle or whatever you do to get it to light–and it didn’t. I turned it off and tried again. No luck.

I looked to my teacher for help, but he purposely averted his eyes as if he did not want to deal with this particular apparatus.

I was about to try a third time, reaching over, and suddenly the Bunsen burner decided to come alive.

I burned my hand.

I was pretty sure it was third degree, but was later told by my doctor that it was just a scorch. But it hurt like hell, though I’m not sure why hell would hurt–or maybe I am.

After all, it’s a place of fire.

Like a Bunsen burner.

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bunny

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bunny: (n) a rabbit, especially a young one.

It seemed completely implausible.

I have no idea where my parents found it–but it was a box containing forty-eight chocolate-covered marshmallow bunnies.

It was given to me as my Easter present when I was ten years old.

I had an immediate dilemma. I would have no problem eating all forty-eight in one sitting, even though I wouldn’t have been able to rise. But I wanted to pretend I was making them last.

Also, I had one little quirk when it came to chocolate-covered bunnies. I don’t like them soft and mushy, but just a little bit chewy–so you have to bite on them and pull a bit before the head separates from the torso. To achieve this, the bunnies must be willing to sit around, uneaten, for several days.

I took the box and hid it in my closet underneath some books. My thought was that needing to remove the books to get to the bunnies might prevent me from gorging.

The theory was incorrect. Turns out I was more than happy to remove some volumes to get to the treasure.

So by the time my bunnies reached their perfect texture, I only had two left.

That was on Monday afternoon. That would have been one day after Easter.

So the next year I asked my parents to buy my box of bunnies a week early before presenting them to me. For some reason they took offence to this.

I got no box of bunnies that year.

What I received was a seven-inch-tall rabbit, which was supposed to be solid chocolate, and ended up being full of air.

Thus the promises of life.

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bunkum

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bunkum: (n) nonsense

I love this word!

Matter of fact, I shall use it all day. It has already caused me to say “shall” instead of “will.”

It is so English–like a butler rejecting a delivery of peat moss because it’s unsuitable for the household flowers.

“Bunkum.”

And believe you me, I will find many opportunities to put the word into practice, considering that I habitually listen to the news. So every time I hear a report, rather than lowering myself to the common lingo of “alternative facts” or “counter theories,” I will simply declare it “bunkum.”

  • Our present health system: bunkum.

(Join in if you feel so led)

  • Leaving people hanging without recourse concerning their immigration status: bunkum.
  • Threatening old people that they might have a little less on a check that is already too less: bunkum.
  • Shooting missiles and discussing an acceptable number of civilian casualties: bunkum.
  • Having grown men and women who are more concerned about Parliamentary procedure than the power of just proceeding: bunkum.
  • Having religion as stale as four-day-old chocolate chip cookie and entertainment which tries to make comic book characters full of pathos: bunkum.

Please pardon me. I could go on and on, but then you would eventually look down at the long page of bunkum and probably think to yourself, “A-h-h-h…bunkum.”

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bunker

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bunker: (n) a reinforced underground shelter, typically for use in wartime.

We have begun to create bunkers to buffer us against contact with one another.

We don’t view it that way–we call them political parties, church denominations, clubs or ardent study of cultures.

But the more we try to segregate that which we believe makes us special, the less and less valuable we become to one another.

If Washington, D.C. is a bunker, and your local church is a bunker, and your community is a bunker, and your race is a bunker–then isn’t it just bunk?

Bunkers are meaningless attempts to make people unique by alienating them from one another, placing them in positions to be defensive.

In the process, we all become perniciously offensive to one another.

How do you know if you’re in a bunker?

If you have to go somewhere else to hear ideas that aren’t your own, you’re probably already buried in the ground.

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bunk Bed

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bunk bed: (n) a piece of furniture consisting of two beds, one above the other, that form a unit.

Ralph had a good job and therefore had some money.

This was rare in our hometown area, where the local gospel singers who aspired to be superstars in the cavalcade of heavenly tunes were normally poor, with dreams the only stuffing in their heads.

I was one of those poor ones.

But Ralph had some money. So his quartet went out and bought a bus, and Ralphie Boy signed for it. It was a 4104 Greyhound, which I’m sure will mean nothing to you unless you can conjure the image of the transportation of that era. If you can muster a picture of a Greyhound, it more than likely is a 4104.

Did I mention that Ralph was also a carpenter? So he ripped the seats out and built the insides to look like a little home, complete with four bunk beds for traveling nights, which might require some sleeping.

Everybody who had a pitch pipe and desired to sing four-part harmony bounced between admiring Ralph and his bus and being envious that they were not in his quartet.

But he was generous and let people come along on little trips so they could say they had been in the magic chariot.

I went on one such trip. It was an “overnighter,” so I got to sleep in the bunk.

It was at that precise moment in that particular location, with my chubby frame wedged into a tiny bunk, that I realized I was claustrophobic. What started out as a night of dreams and new opportunities left me terrorized that the bunk just above me was going to suddenly give way, come crashing down and suffocate me, probably to death.

When we finished the trip, Ralph asked me how I enjoyed it, and being a polite Midwestern boy, I said it was absolutely amazing–but that I was a little scared of the bunk beds.

Ralph thought that was hilarious–so funny that he decided to share it with everybody he ever came in contact with.

So from that point on, no matter what the activity, people would walk up, pat me on the shoulder and say, “By the way, you can relax. There won’t be any bunks.”

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bungle

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bungle: (v) to carry out a task clumsily or incompetently

No two people think alike.

Maybe they come close. But the only true guarantee is that in a room of thirty souls, you will have thirty unique perspectives. If we try to find a consensus of those opinions, we will end up with political gridlock and spiritual malaise.

Why?

Because we trim off enough fat that eventually we do away with the meat. And once we lose the meat of a good idea, just simply having bones will not walk it across the room.

We bungle because we assume.

We assume that everybody agrees, or we assume that since everybody does not agree, that action needs to be taken without agreement. So naturally, those who did not give their stamp of approval will do their damndest to sabotage the idea since they were not part of it.

Probably the worst kind of bungling is thinking that a bad idea which has already produced bad results can be improved on, simply by making some simple adjustments.

Every four years, we take the archaic electoral system, which continues to bungle our elections, and tolerate it because trying to find agreement to do something else seems too arduous.

So the bungling continues.

Bungling is not simply having a bad idea. That happens to all of us.

Bungling is when you think a bad idea can sprout wings and suddenly fly to heaven.

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Bungee Jumping

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bungee jumping: (n) the sport of leaping from a height while secured by a long nylon-cased rubber band from the ankles

Two.

I only need two reasons to chase me away from doing something.

Three.

Generally speaking, I have to have three reasons to proceed.

You may think I’m overly cautious, but it has prevented me from pursuing trends, fads and “hip stuff” which was later proven to be either erratic or deadly.

So when I see the word, or phrase in this case, “bungee jumping,” I put this idea into practice.

I start looking for the two reasons not to do it. And just to be fair, I search for the three reasons to pursue it.

Let’s look at the three reasons I might want to take a flying leap:

  1. To impress people with my courage
  2. To see firsthand how strong these bungee cords really are
  3. Gee whiz–forgive me. I’ve run out of positive reasons.

Now, let’s look at the things that might prevent me from strapping on:

  1. I have a rubber band tied to my feet. Now, I personally have viewed a little girl putting her pony tail together, applying a rubber band and seeing it break in her hands. Here’s my thought: if a little girl can break a rubber band in her hand, they may not be reliable, no matter how thick and sturdy they appear.
  2. This was difficult, because ten different objections wanted to take the second position.  But after careful consideration, I decided on:

Bungee jumping is head-first.

So not only are you relying on a rubber band to sustain your weight from what would have to be considered a fatal fall, but if it doesn’t, you’ve decided to confirm that your brains are bashed in first.

There are some folks who think they are superior because they’re daredevils.

But keep in mind … at least half of the word “daredevil” is a reference to Satan.

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix