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Art

 Art: (n) the various branches of creative activity, such as painting, music, literature, and dance.dictionary with letter A

Probably one of the more pretentious things a mere mortal can speak aloud is the proclamation: “I am an artist.”

Even though it is said more often than comfortability allows, it is a presumptuous thought. Why?

Well, first of all–art is in the eye of the beholder, not in the mind of the “presumer.” In other words, if someone wants to call me an artist, I can humbly deflect the praise, but blame them for the event.

Even though I have written, recorded, sung, performed and gyrated my talents in many different ways over the years, I daily realize that to create art requires three very distinct purposes, uniting as one:

1. Inspire.

It is my firm belief that art should inspire us. I know this will meet with some disagreement, but I do not think that movies, books and songs which are depressing, fatalistic and portray humanity as worthless are art. They are intriguing diversions for those who are looking for a reason to confirm their depression.

2. Entertaining.

Yes, I think art should make our minds dance with new ideas while either tickling our funny bone or massaging our heart. I will even say that I’ve been entertained by things that have aggravated my emotions.

3. And finally, I think art should make us hunger and thirst.

Preferably, for righteousness, but at least, an appetite should be developed for more than the bland diet that the status quo often offers in the great cafeteria line of life.

I do not want to become disheartened or faithless by peering into the disgruntled by-product of the souls who insist they are artists.

Life is too short to be pissed off … and it is certainly much too brief to spend all of your creative energy merely trying to piss off others.

 

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Arson

Arson: (n) the criminal act of deliberately setting fire to property.dictionary with letter A

When the original writers of the Good Book sat down and tried to describe hell in a way that would be frightening to their readers, they chose fire.

It was an extremely effective marketing tool, because in that day and age, most people handled fire, saw fire, warmed by it, and probably knew somebody who had died in one.

Nowadays, we don’t necessarily deal with fire. We might catch a glimpse of one on television, but the true impact, heat and destruction of this force never registers in our consciousness unless we are up-close and personal.

Many years ago I was staying in a motel–a rather dilapidated institution which might have had former days of glory, although no immediate evidence of that luxury was prevalent in any of the rooms.

To make a long story short, one of my afternoon naps was interrupted by a frantic knock on the door, informing me that we had to exit immediately because the place was on fire.

I stepped out of the room and walked into the parking lot. Sure enough, just above us, on the second floor, whipping flames were escaping out of a door.

I gathered the family together quickly, grabbing the few things we could not live without. We climbed into our vehicle and had the foresight to pull out of the parking lot and move several buildings away, so that when the fire trucks arrived, we could escape with our car intact, free of damage.

There are three things I remember about that day.

My sons wanted to go take a look at the fire, so we headed back towards the burning motel. We soon realized that we could not get within fifty yards of it without being overcome by the heart and woozy from the smoke. Watching the firemen go in and out, trying to contain the blaze, was baffling and inspiring.

The second thing I remember was how shocked I was to discover that the fire was set by the owner to get rid of the property. It was an arson. Unfortunately, he did not realize that the room next to the place where he ignited his crime was occupied by an old man who was unable to get out, and died.

The whole time I was thinking about the phrase, “Don’t play with fire.”

That day I realized why: fire has neither respect nor honors boundaries.

In no time at all, the entire second floor of this motel was engulfed in flames, and we were very fortunate that evening, when everything had calmed down, to return to our room and retrieve our belongings.

The third and final thing I remember about that arson happened the next morning.

Sitting over breakfast and far away from those flames, the horror of the inferno returned to my mind, and I started to shake uncontrollably.

It was terrifying.

It was like I was possessed by a spasm which refused to relent. It took most of the morning for me to calm down.

I do not know if there’s a hell, but I will tell you…if it contains any fire, it should give us the shakes.

 

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Arsenal

Arsenal: (n) a collection of weapons and military equipment stored by a country, person, or group.dictionary with letter A

Growing up in an America which was so frightened of the Soviet Union that we produced enough atomic arsenal to destroy the world many times over, I was confused as to whether to wave my flag in glory over our prowess, or bow my head in prayer that we would never use it.

I guess I’m a little bewildered by the idea of an arsenal.

When people explain that they like to own a gun for protection or because they enjoy hunting, I nod my head because that seems logical–if not to me, then to them. But when people start storing up weapons and building up a cache of killing instruments, I wonder exactly what they believe their everyday lives should be.

An arsenal of anything is an admission that “I need to have more than enough” to scare or intimidate the world around me.

I don’t know if I can love people if I’m trying to be scary or if I find them to be threatening. And if I don’t love people, am I just looking for an opportunity to crack open my arsenal and let the bullets fly?

It is confusing, isn’t it?

I’m not trying to tell you I have an answer on the question. I can only select a pattern of behavior that suits my soul.

I don’t keep an arsenal of anything…simply because I believe a certain amount of faith is necessary to be pleasing.

 

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Arse

Arse: (n) British spelling of ass.dictionary with letter A

As a writer–and I use that occupational name humbly–I am constantly confronted with the more confounding and contradictory nature of the English language.

There are those who insist that sentence structure is what determines the quality and talent of anyone who composes an essay. Yet honestly, in everyday life, nobody is very concerned about the placement of subjects and predicates.

Other folks believe that intelligence and integrity are procured through using language which is acceptable to your grandmother and rejecting any wording that might make your sixteen-year-old son giggle.

Matter of fact, I have lived through times where using phrases like “my God,” “crap,” or “Oh, my Lord” were deemed by some to be inappropriate.

So imagine my delight when I found out that I merely have to go back to the King’s English to acquire the word “arse” if I want to refer to someone as an “arsehole.”

It frees me of objections and makes me seem quite continental at the same time! And also, while people figure out what it means, I can be the mischievous little boy who got away from the garden toting the watermelon.

Seriously, I will tell you–there are a few words which should never be considered profane because they are so on-point with real life, and describe human emotion better than their more gentle counterparts.

For instance:

  • I’m not going to write that my character was upset when I can say that he was pissed off.
  • When I’m establishing the fact that something is horribly wrong, I am not going to call it bullpoop. It shall be bullshit.
  • When I’m relating a story in which I confess my fault and let you know of my error, I will not call myself mistaken, but rather, an ass.
  • And there are simply some times when a defiant stand demands a “Butlerian” reply: Frankly, I don’t give a damn.

Feel free to disagree with me, and if you do, I offer you some wonderful news. You can send me a note which reads, “You are so wrong…you arse.”

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Arrow

Arrow: (n) a shaft sharpened at the front and with feathers or vanes at the back, shot from a bow as a weapon or for sport.dictionary with letter A

“I shot an arrow into the air, and where it falls I know not where.”

Isn’t that irresponsible? I think if we’re going to be arrow-shooters, we should be conscientious to know where they fall.

The parallels of this into other areas of our lives are so numerous that I would be frightened to jump in, lest it appear that I’ve purchased some sort of soap box on which to stand for proclamation.

Yet I will tell you that there is a certain amount of control that proves we have respect for the world around us. There is too much arrow-shooting into the air with a “devil-may-care” attitude.

Are we supposed to be cautious? Are we supposed to be careful not to offend or hurt others with our arrows?

I don’t think it’s so much an issue of being cautious or careful about our offenses, but rather, to take the time to understand that arrows are pointed, and therefore can be quite lethal.

If I simply tell you that I don’t believe something, I am shooting an arrow into the air without any concern for how it will strike your heart, which happens to hold that belief dear.

There is a power in saying, “As for me…”

“As for me, I’ve found the following to be true.”

As for me, I don’t shoot my arrows into the air, but instead, find targets. And when I shoot at a target and take precise aim, then my intention is clear.

To shoot an arrow into the air and not know where it’s going to fall is the beginning of every war. It is the consummation of every family struggle, lending itself to the destruction of the unity.

We need to know where our arrows fall, and the only way to achieve that is by never pulling out an arrow … unless you’ve chosen a target.

 

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Arrogate

Arrogate: (v) to take or claim (something) without justification.dictionary with letter A

  • I don’t join a club because I don’t like to club people.
  • I’ve never added my membership to a party because I hate to get drunk on my own opinion.
  • And I’m not an adherent to any specific religion because I’m obnoxious when I’m religious.

For you see, it’s like I started off my life with a huge suitcase full of beliefs, ideas, prejudices, quirks and preferences. I kissed my family goodbye and showed up at the railway station to go off to the College of Humanity with this burdensome baggage, proudly hauling it along to demonstrate my faithfulness to the causes enclosed.

After a few miles, I grew weary of the task, so I opened it up and discovered there were many things that were either too small for me, useless to my present condition, or somewhat unidentifiable.

Seeing a trash can nearby, I availed myself of its open-mindedness and dumped this unnecessary carry-on.

I walked a little further, got a little older, and my muscles began to complain about their mission of toting. So I opened it one more time, and lo and behold, things that once seemed sacred were now outdated and meaningless.

A new dumping.

So I tread on into my middle years, still faithful to display the luggage originally provided. Then one day I decided to open up the container and I discovered that everything that had been packed in there for me was gone, and all that remained was an empty valise.

I took a risk.

I cast it aside.

This accomplished, I realized there were only three things I held dear:

  1. I am responsible for my own life so I should stop being a jerk.
  2. People are not going to treat me any better than I treat them.
  3. Having more than I need makes me worry instead of prosper.

Today I try very hard to keep from accumulating trinkets which are thrust upon me by those who feel uncomfortable with me being unencumbered.

I am polite … but I scurry away from their insistence.

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Arrogant

Arrogant: (adj) having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one’s own importance or abilities.dictionary with letter A

“It is an attitude which your friends refer to as confidence and your enemies deem arrogance.”

This is a line from a novel I wrote some years ago.

There is a certain amount of self-worth necessary in order to conduct human business. But how do we know when we cross over into the boasting realm of “arrogant?”

Let me phrase it this way. I think you can call yourself confident unless:

  1. You feel the need to tell someone who you are instead of just showing it.
  2. You assume, upon telling them who you are, that a certain amount of respect should follow.
  3. You are offended when you occasionally have to take the lower seat because it’s the only one available.
  4. You bruise easily and heal slowly.

I feel if you’re able to avoid these four pitfalls, you can live a life of confidence without becoming arrogant. But even though it seems like arrogant people temporarily gain the day … at the end the destruction is much more violent and final.

 

 

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Arriviste

dictionary with letter A

Arriviste: (n) an ambitious or ruthlessly self-seeking person, especially one who has recently acquired wealth or social status.

It’s the classic paradox.

For if you actually run across people who fit the definition of “arriviste,” and you decide to expose them for their chicanery, and you call them an arriviste, everyone in the room will assume you are the actual arriviste.

It’s similar to calling another person a hypocrite. He or she will immediately run through their mind-files and conjure memories of your hypocrisy.

Have you ever had the audacity to tell someone he has gained weight? What is the response? He points out that “you’re a little pudgy, yourself,” right?

It’s probably the greatest problem in religion–every faith has some sort of process by which enlightenment or salvation is achieved, which we then would like to share with others, but in so doing, somewhat have to convince them of their lack.

Then they scrutinize our lives–and often find us wanting.

Is there power in keeping your mouth shut and letting things play out?

I know there are exceptions, and of course, it is the classic Adolph Hitler syndrome. “If we had not stopped him, what would have happened?”

I must be candid. It took four years for the world to defeat him in war, but in 1940, his generals and cohorts were already losing faith in him and probably would have killed him within two.

Now, I’m not saying we wasted our time and energy by knocking off the Nazis. I’m just curious as to whether pointing out all the fallacious activity in the world is the best way to eliminate it.

For a very wise man once said, “The measure we measure out to others is the measure that will be measured back to us.”

Although I must say he used the word “measure” too much, the thought was still there.

Don’t call someone an arriviste unless you’re prepared to be called one yourself.

 

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Arrival

Arrival: (n) the action or process of arriving.　dictionary with letter A

I was part of an invigorating discussion.

Although I think many times in our society we consider conversation to be a necessary evil, it is often the way in which we flush out foul-sounding ideas from our brain and have them cleansed in righteousness through debate.

No wonder people avoid it.

But the essence of this particular discourse was the pursuit of discovering what is causing the racial backlash, the “wars and rumors of wars,” the terrorism and the sense of disgruntled feelings among the populous.

Pretty deep.

But in the process of unfolding different theories, one concept leapt to the forefront: we, as human beings, are still waiting for the arrival of equality between men and women.

After all, every country that has racial tension also has an archaic approach to accepting women as equals.

Every nation sprouting terrorism also walks in a climate of misogyny.

If we cannot get fifty percent of the population to find joy, understanding and communication with the other fifty percent of the population, how could we ever think we could get eighty-seven percent of the other races to be accepting of thirteen percent of black people?

We are waiting for the arrival of intelligence, and meanwhile trying to take minor issues and portray them as major problems.

  • Racism is not our greatest conflict.
  • Terrorism is not the ultimate threat.
  • Religious intolerance will not destroy the world.

The world will tip over and fall because we have convinced ourselves that men and women were never meant to get along.

I am waiting for the arrival of common sense which tells us that if we’re good enough to enjoy each other in the bedroom, we’re certainly good enough to talk as equals in the boardroom.

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Arrears

dictionary with letter A

Arrears: (n) money that is owed and should have been paid earlier.

I was twenty years old, married and had two children–and also had no business living in an apartment of my own.

The option was to be homeless.

Since this was frowned upon (and a bit chilly) my family helped me to acquire a lodging space which only cost fifty dollars a month, but might as well have been five thousand. At that point I had no funds whatsoever.

So the landlord was very nice to us as we moved in a few sticks of donated furniture. He answered all of our questions about the abode, and even continued to be understanding when the first month passed and we had no finance to contribute to our situation.

Yes. It only took thirty-one days for us to be in arrears.

He even avoided bothering us in the next twenty-nine days, out of some inclination to be magnanimous and hopeful.

When he arrived at our door on day sixty to collect his rent, which had now accumulated to the king’s ransom of one hundred dollars, my wife and I decided to hide behind the couch and pretend we were not home, so as to avoid our “fears of the arrears.”

Periodically after that, he would visit. In order to not appear repetitious, we occasionally even hid in the closet.

After four months of arrears, he saw me one day in the local grocery store, and still trying to maintain a bit of dignity but also embarrass me, he confronted me in front of a few ladies perched near produce.

“Are you ever going to pay your rent?” he asked.

In a moment of surprising veracity, I said, “No, sir. Matter of fact, I don’t even know if I can afford this pack of bologna I have in my hand.”

Surprisingly, he laughed and so did the ladies who had paused to stare at what were certainly unwanted radishes.

After that moment of glee, he explained that I needed to move out.

I was not disappointed, nor offended, and I certainly was not surprised.

After all, being in arrears does mean that you should be prepared … to move to the rear.

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