Cross-Legged

Cross-legged: (adj) having the legs crossed

The greatest gift that Mother Nature and Father God can impart to you is a weakness.

Without a weakness, you begin to believe you’re self-sufficient and don’t need help from any outside source. On top of that, you might just create deceitful interpretations of the truth when its proven that you are not “all that and a bag of chips.”

A weakness gives you the ability to know where to start working every single morning.

A weakness warns you that too much confidence is blustering wind with no lightning or rain.

A weakness makes you more compassionate to other people who happen to share a “soft spot” in their abilities—just like you.

A weakness is what makes you strong.

I do not know whether I was born fat, possess a fat gene—or if I’m just caught in the middle of some metabolic paradox.

But my obesity has created a weakness in my life.

Some people may consider it a weakness of my own making, or perhaps one created by my parents “making out.”

It doesn’t make any difference. I’ve had to base my journey on working around my girth—beginning at my birth.

Therefore, I can tell when one ounce leaves and seven pounds arrive to comfort my body over the loss.

I know when I’m on a good spin and when my health is being spun.

I don’t need a mirror to observe the “battle of the bulge.”

For you see, one of the ways I have always been able to tell whether I am beginning to move toward a more normal weight or traveling into the morbid regions of obesity is:

The simple action of crossing my legs.

Now, at this point every fat person in America reading this will howl with laughter, and every skinny-ass individual will turn and look quizzically at another scrawny person as if to say, “What does he mean?”

For when you’re fat, your thighs have grown a fondness for each other and are accustomed to being close. If you think about it, crossing your legs demands that these thighs develop autonomy. Also, your joints—which are essential for convincing one leg to go above the other—are sometimes jammed up with fat globules, which makes the process of crossing one’s legs quite athletic, if not painful.

Therefore, during times of weight loss, I have celebrated my victory with a leg-crossing—occasionally only able to maneuver the “wish bone variety,” where the right foot rests upon the left knee. But a few times, I was actually able to have the legs completely crossed—where the right knee appeared to be humping the left one.

When this has happened I have actually teared up—mostly because it was such a blessing to do such a simple thing.

But partially because being foreign to me, it was as uncomfortable as hell.

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Condescending

Condescending: (adj) having or showing a feeling of patronizing superiority

We spend our entire lives confirming what we should have known on the day of our birth.

Plucked from bloody wombs, our cord to former protection is cut. We are forced to breathe, reaching into the darkness with our blinded eyes, only to end up stacked in a nursery somewhere, with dozens of other non-functioning units, to cleave to our mothers’ breast as if it was our funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
only source of nourishment–because it is.

We grow up–and then, for some reason or another, decide we are superior to other people–a condescending conclusion.

Considering we all come in the same way and all go out breathless, it might be nice to realize the great wealth of similarities among us, instead of trying to intimidate in a world of domination.

There are two things I remind myself of every day:

  1. My life is maintained by a single muscle in the middle of my chest which has already experienced a lot of wear and tear.
  2. No one is better than anyone else–and that includes me.

 

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

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Character

Character: (n) mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual

There are four stop-offs in life.

Each one is available; each one is real. The type of character we derive is determined by whether we allow ourselves to linger or progress.

First, we’re born.

It comes with a whole package of possibilities, and also genetic guidelines. There are those who go no further. They take what they receive
from their DNA, listen to all training provided, and go through a brief period of rebellion, only to end up greatly resembling those who procreated them.

There’s a second opportunity. It’s called being born again.

Although the term has been limited to a Christian religious experience, it is available to all souls who are weary of the confinement of their childhood.

Some people stop at being born again. They end up with their homespun philosophy and a few extra ideas they add onto their train of thought.

But character does not form from being born or born again. Character begins to take shape when we’re born through pain.

Pain is that status that surrounds us whenever pleasure decides to go away. It reminds us of our weaknesses, it taunts us with our failures, and it takes all of our chromosomal lacking and brings it to the forefront. It is here that we decide to be something instead of letting the circumstances determine what we’re going to be.

Noble souls reach this point and begin to forge a personal definition all their own. They become valuable to the human tribe because they are contributors instead of detractors.

But the final stage is to be born universal.

This is when all name tags, cultures, prejudices and limitations of gender are set aside in favor of the simplicity of enjoying the next person we meet.

This station in life is not only color-blind, but also turns a blind eye to any vision that insists on hurting others or painting a dark picture of the life we’ve been given.

Four stations.

Where will we stop off?

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Birth

Birth: (n) the emergence of a baby or other young from the body of its motherDictionary B 

So when women on television programs were pregnant, it was usually for only one episode, and then the baby would miraculously appear, beautifully swaddled and powdered.

So when I leaped into the real world of birthing humans, I was astounded at how much of the animal kingdom we maintain–both in the process of conception and the juncture of evacuation.

Because even though we talk about the glories of romance, human sexuality, when it’s in the process of performance, doesn’t look that much different from two dogs in the back yard, which we try to separate by spraying them with the hose.

And when I was present at the birth of my sons, I was astounded at how much blood, fluid, tissue, smells and general frightening ugliness occurred, just to remove a human being from the body of another human being, so we could all utter a very nervous cheer as we stared at the helpless glob of flesh.

It was terrifying.

No wonder Jesus suggested that since we had no control over our birth, no planning over how it was to be executed, and certainly no vote in the genes that we retain, that it might be nice somewhere along the line, to welcome an opportunity … to be born again.

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Beard

Beard: (n) a growth of hair on the chin and lower cheeks of a man’s face.Dictionary B

Call it an oversimplification, but I believe the three stages in the life of a man can be summed up as follows:

  1. Birth
  2. Arrogance
  3. Disproven.

The key to success in human life, wearing a male body, is to arrive at “disproven” with a sense of humor instead of disappointment.

So it was well after my birth, in my season of arrogance, that I decided I wanted to grow a beard. For the life of me I cannot remember what stimulated this notion, but understanding my mindset in that season, it had something to do with being sexy. Because being sexy in the arrogant period of macho life is Number 1 on the Top 5 of important goals.

Of course, you know the problem.

Each one of us is issued a body filled with genetic mishaps, and within that body are limitations. As it turned out, one of mine was the ability to grow a decent beard.

I should have suspected this since I don’t really need to shave every day and only do so to keep up with the “Bill Joneses.”

So since I don’t need to shave all the time, it’s highly unlikely that my face is going to suddenly sprout a bush.

And it didn’t.

It grew in various portions of acreage, leaving other areas deserted.

I was unable to grow any hair on my cheeks, so my beard made me look like I was trying to become a Jew instead of a gigolo.

I persisted.

I used eyebrow pencil to fill it in for a long time, before finally one day I looked in the mirror and pitied my poor efforts.

As it turns out, I can grow a mustache and a soul patch.

I call it a beard. This shall satisfy my need for arrogance as I continue on in my understanding of being disproven.

 

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Aptitude

dictionary with letter A

Aptitude (n): 1. an ability to do something 2. suitability or fitness

For a myriad of reasons, I barely made it through the 1980s with my being intact, primarily because of my complete disdain and obvious aversion to personality tests and aptitude quizzes.

It was all the rage in that era and still persists today in pockets promoting superficial psycho-babble.

The notion of taking responsibility for one’s life or learning a craft seems so arduous to the average person that they would like to believe they were born with certain abilities, rarities and anointings so as to take all of the mystery and work out of their personal journey.

Parents, aunts, uncles and grandma and grandpa all encourage this by noting everything from the timber of our early babble, to the length, height or breadth of body parts, to place a mission upon us before we’ve even learned how to stop messing our pants.

Certainly everyone wants us to fall into a personality type, where we can hide behind the pluses and minuses of that particular idea to explain our behavior.

But even though these testers will insist that you can be docile, quiet, introverted and silent, they sometimes fail to remind you that it is the world around us that requires we step out of our shadow and into the light.

Yes, perhaps intimidated folks can be given a name, but it is the gregarious ones who will be given the position. One would think it’s a plot, to keep part of the population oppressed in order to supply fodder for the more menial tasks, if one was of a nind to believe in conspiracy theories.

What I think is that we are too grounded in a Calvinistic, pre-destined American thinking that wants the whole plan laid out in front of us by the time we’re three years old, to ever instruct the general populace in matters of manners, intensity, perseverance and expansion.

I can tell you of a certainty that I had no aptitude for anything but eating. Yet there isn’t a doctor alive who will let me believe “I was born” with the aptitude to be fat. Isn’t that interesting?

Apparently some characteristics are inserted at birth and others become bad habits.

So what I choose to believe is that I have nothing but an aptitude for laziness and if I pursue that, I will end up poor and alone. Therefore I choose to overcome my aptitude … and study the present pursuit that rings my bell.

 

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