Tag Archives: alarm clock

Culminate

Culminate: (v) to end or arrive at a final stage

Many folks do not get to see how their actions culminate, because they get caught up in the muddle of the middle or the slump of the start.

Is it possible that we’re so afraid of losing that we don’t persevere?

Or do we quit because we get more excited with the energy of starting up?

Do we fail to get started because talking a good game is exhilarating, but responding to the alarm clock is quite difficult?

Yet if you were able to pinpoint one of the major problem areas in society—government, entertainment, education, business or religion…

You would have to say that nothing ever seems to cross the finish line.

Fascinating to me is that everything that does not culminate by coming to a righteous conclusion instead culminates with an excuse. And of course, once we learn to make excuses, we develop a need to embellish. (And embellishing is just another way of setting out to lie.)

So absent fruit born from the seed of our notion, we must quickly provide a story to explain the source for the failure or exaggerate any success.

How courageous do you have to be to line up all your ducks, and without fear, let them go?

What is the source of the anxiety that prevents us from such an action?

Maybe it’s because we believe nothing is ever what it’s “quacked up to be.”

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Biological Clock

Biological clock: (n) an innate mechanism that controls the physiological activities

Dictionary B

Some years ago, a friend asked me to come and stay at his house. He showed me my room and when I noticed that the alarm clock sitting next to the bed had the incorrect time, he explained that I was welcome to try to change it, but that he had found that the clock always reverted to being exactly fifty-two minutes fast.

So rather than throwing it away, he had decided to adjust.

I squinted at him, a bit perturbed, but during my week-long stay, found myself becoming quite adept at time-transfer.

I bring this little story up because to a large degree, we have done this with the human race.

We have totally ignored the natural biological time schedule of human growth, and instead have inserted a social structure which has nothing to do with the reality of our personal timetable.

In other words, puberty begins in the early teens–but we strongly suggest that people refrain from marriage until their early thirties.

A woman’s primal time for having babies is 14-35, but if we don’t marry until we are thirty, then there has to be a real rush if we’re going to squeeze in our 1.8 children into the statistical anomaly.

I suppose we could try to become more sensitive to the natural order of human activity, but that would require that we ask our children to skip being rebellious, foolish and slackered teenagers and instead, take on the mantle of adulthood much earlier.

This would be ridiculous.

What would we ever do with video games, juvenile detention centers, drug rehabilitation facilities and over-expenditure on trendy clothes? We might actually infuse premature emotional stability and spirituality into our offspring before they have a chance to sow wild oats–which, by the way, are rarely usable for making bread.Donate Button

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Awoke

Awoke: (v) past of awake.dictionary with letter A

Just like the next guy sittin’ around waiting for a bus, I love a good story, especially if it’s sprinkled with a little mysticism and the possibility that there might actually be a God somewhere who gives a damn.

Because to be quite blunt with you, I do get tired of believing in things that don’t occasionally offer a dividend. If God wants my life, my repentance and sometimes my money, every once in a while He ought to show up and do a little two-step, letting me know that He’s still involved in the choreography.

I know that to some people, this may sound irreverent, but true irreverence is to continue to worship the irrelevant and insist that it’s meaningful.

So as a writer, I have, on occasion, felt divinely inspired to pen some thoughts which I felt came from a genesis other than my own heart, soul, mind and strength.

Yes, there have been those opportunities when I awoke from a dead sleep with a clarity of mind that could only be described as celestial, to grab pen and paper and write down a thought, a poem, a lyric or a paragraph which was flowing out of me like heavenly milk and honey instead of reluctant glue.

Now I will be honest. Sometimes, when I awoke again in the morning to arise from my bed, and I looked at the scribblings, they had the sentence structure of the Rubik’s Cube.

But there are those precious moments when the original inspiration is still so fresh on the paper that I fear the ink might smear.

So if I find our there is no God, I still feel I am better off by believing that every once in a while, when I awaken in the middle of the night to scrawl a thought or two… it was because God had become my alarm clock.

 

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Archaeology

dictionary with letter A

Archaeology: (n) the study of human history and prehistory through the excavation of sites and the analysis of artifacts

I am susceptible.

I am a product of my times and therefore the word “archaeology” conjures images of Indiana Jones and his whip.

I am ready to freely admit how shallow I am before you decide to dive in.

But also, I have found the subject of archaeology to be fascinating–that digging up objects from a former culture can tell us about their lifestyle and choices. Honestly, it more illuminates our study on what they were presently using when they went bye-bye and what that substance was made of, which enabled it to survive the span of time.

It caused me to think about the things that surround me.

Obviously, the elements in my life that would push through to another era are mostly made of plastic. So anyone studying me or my culture eons from now would contend that we were a generation that was obsessed with containers, bottles and all sorts of paraphernalia. For all of our papers would turn to dust; glass would be crushed and not survive.

Yes, in a thousand years, if they dug up our defunct civilization, they would ascertain that we really liked plastic and that most of it was formed into gadgets.

So comically, an alarm clock might survive, which would lead the archaeologist to conclude that we were a very efficient society, living off the clock, and probably extraordinarily productive.

If they found one of our computers, which survived the press, they would report that we were an intellectual culture, always chasing down the truth.

Gone would be:

  • The wrappers from our fast food
  • The pages from our silly magazines
  • And the most recent creams and salves we favor to prevent oldness, baldness and impotency.

So I have to admit I’m a little suspicious of archaeology. Just because something survives being buried does not mean it was predominant in the social structure of the time.

For after all, in a thousand years … what will be left of reality shows and the Kardashians?

 

 

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