Tag Archives: appendage

Appendage

dictionary with letter A

Appendage (n.): a thing attached to or projecting from something larger or more important.

After writing for more years than I dare remember, I often find myself guilty of becoming either too introspective or a bit boggled with silliness.

Not that I have any problem with introspection or silliness for that matter, but as a writer, your goal is to have readers and not just accumulation of work.

One school of thought is that most people want to read something deep and profound while another clown college contends that everything must be giggly and entertaining.

I have come to the conclusion that the true test of writing is working from an idea that is important, and using the best tools possible to carve out a message.

Maybe that’s the problem in our society today–we’ve forgotten what’s important. So what we have is a bunch of dangling appendages seeking homes on which to attach.

If all the ideas proffered in our time were traced back to an origin, they would often be considered homeless.

Therefore everything I write, feel and try to do is grounded in three central principles, and then I allow the ideas to grow like appendages from them:

  1. People are the closest thing to God we have on Earth.
  2. God is the closest thing to hope that we can muster.
  3. So we must muster the ability to get along with people so that we better understand God.

Everything else I do ends up being appendages to these three central themes. Sometimes it’s funny; sometimes it’s serious. Sometimes it’s confrontational, but it is never jaded.

For after all, the day I cease to believe in these three ideas that are important, everything I do will be a mere appendage–unattached to my own reality.

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

Aerialist

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Aerialist: (n) a person who performs acrobatics high above the ground on a tightrope or trapeze.

We will trust in something.

  • Those who do not put their faith in God find great solace in education, knowledge or science.
  • Folks who are not physically inclined are comforted by reading, writing or thinking.

It always astounds me when I watch folks working a trapeze–how they overcome their fear of heights–until I realize that it has little to do with that. I suppose it would even be possible to have such an apprehension, and as long as you placed your faith in the skill of maintaining your craft, you would be fine.

After all, an aerialist does not trust the wire he or she is walking across. The wire is the obstacle. Certainly, they are careful to maintain the integrity of the line, but they place their faith in the jungle control and well-trained connection they have with their muscles and bones.

Walking across a high wire is not about trusting the surface nor even your balance. It is having the physical tone to know that when you place your foot down anywhere, the tendons and ligaments that control that appendage are strong, firm and sure.

It’s true of anything in life.

As I write this article today, there are millions of people who would insist they are incapable of such a task. They would find it nerve-wracking, if not foreboding, to put together sentences or ideas that possess interest.

But I trust the muscle. As I think, I say.

It’s a confidence that has grown in me as I have arrived at the moment of composition, without any idea ahead of time about what I’m going to share. I dig deep into my soul and find not only a topic, but a personal insight.

An aerialist is not a person who places his faith in chance, but rather, someone who knows that his body will respond the same, whether walking in the air, or on terra firma. An aerialist is a human testimony of working what we do well until we can have total enjoyment in the experience because we have logged the hours of practice.

It’s true for all of us–or else the lack of the truth leaves us feeling inadequate or meaningless.

I cannot walk on a high wire, but I do understand what gives them the impetus and confidence to do so: it is the same muscle and moxie that grants me the window to open every day … to let the fresh air of ideas sweep through me and from me.

 

Adjective

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Adjective: (n.) a word or phrase naming an attribute, added to or grammatically related to a noun to modify or describe it.

Sometimes I grow exhausted living in a “verb-and -noun world.”

Adjectives are those words inserted into our lives which prove that we actually give a damn. For instance:

“This is my wife.”  Dull, right?

“This is my beautiful wife.” Just adding the adjective “beautiful” means that I care enough to explain that the woman with me is not merely a flesh-and-blood appendage, but someone who possesses attractiveness.

“This is my intelligent friend.” The word “intelligent” triggers the notion that I am about to meet someone of ilk and knowledge.

Adjectives are the words that God created to keep us from becoming boring.

              “How are you doing today?” my neighbor asks.

              “Good,” I reply, completely terminating further communication.

I know that many people think being laid back, limited in words and tight-lipped is a way of sharing that you are simple and free of complication. It is also a style which telegraphs that you don’t have much going on in your cranial cavity and your emotions have been drained of all juiciness.

I like adjectives.

Of course, they can be overdone. A simple rule is to never use an adjective to be an adjective to an adjective. In other words, two adjectives in a row are not only unnecessary, they are verbally incestuous.

But without them, we don’t really have any way to tell people how valuable they are to us, or of sharing with God how glad we are that He has come … to modify our lives.