Tag Archives: blood pressure

Clamor

Clamor: (n) a loud and confused noise, especially that of people shouting vehemently.

Is it possible to object without being objectionable?

Can we raise issues without raising our blood pressure?

Can we stimulate the conversation without stimulating the anger that inhibits reasoning?

Why do we clamor?

Do we secretly think we may be wrong, and the more we shout the less likely the exposure?

Are we obsessed with the notion that our much speaking actually affects the thinking of others?

When will we comprehend that the louder we get, the less power there is in what we say?

Why is cleverness dying?

Why is diplomacy viewed as weakness?

Why would people mock the notion that “a soft answer turns away wrath?”

When did sheer brute force convince our nation to pursue its prowess?

Is it possible to make such a convincing argument that it can be delivered in a whisper?

Does the proclamation, “change the world” have to be blared, or can it be delivered with an ironic smile?

The louder we get, the less is done.

The more intense we become, the less effective.

The reason the meek inherit the Earth is because the dominant, forceful and tribal leaders kill one another off–leaving behind the inheritance of an Earth that still needs to be reformed, but would prefer it be done with some gentleness.

I’m going to stop clamoring.

I shall no longer clamor.

To clamor is to annoy.

Do I really believe that? Do you really believe that?

Maybe we could start believing it together.

 

 

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Boisterous

Boisterous: (adj) noisy, energetic, and cheerful; rowdy.

Noisy, energetic, cheerful and rowdy.Dictionary B

Those words are NOT synonyms–at least, not in our society.

Noisy: Please be more quiet.

Energetic: Yea, team!

Cheerful: Thank you for being pleasant.

Rowdy: Keep an eye on them–they look like trouble.

See what I mean?

It’s no wonder that upon hearing the word “boisterous,” anyone over the age of thirty immediately conjures negative images. And anyone under thirty pops up snapshots of a beer-bong party.

Unfortunately, because of this transition that occurs at our third decade, overnight we go from being fun-loving bozos to pernicious buzz-killers.

On top of that, we have certain areas where we do not accept boisterous behavior whatsoever–funerals, weddings (except the reception) and of course, church.

A boisterous funeral would be considered campy, but a bit uncouth.

A boisterous wedding would be viewed as an interruption of a sacred impartation.

And a boisterous church service would be translated as a holy-rolling, snake-handling hullabaloo of hillbillies.

Do we need to be boisterous? Are there times when our energy should become rowdy?

There just might be things in life worthy of raising our blood pressure … without getting us angry.

 

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Big Bang

Big Bang: (n) the supposed origin of the Universe.

“Choose your poison.”Dictionary B

I know that sounds like a cynical statement, but the truth of the matter is, if you were going to die by consuming a substance, it might be nice to be able to pick the one that was the least painful.

That’s what I feel about those who believe in Creationism, and others who assert the Big Bang theory.

Both story lines seem comically intricate and equally unlikely.

First, the faith it takes to believe in a supernatural Creator of the Universe is beyond the capacity of any living human soul. We are all perpetually in doubt that God actually exists, let alone holds a viable position.

On the other hand, the notion that some convergence of energy created an explosion which splattered matter across the darkened sky, to begin a festeringly long incubation towards life, which culminates with a kidney in a human body which knows how to regulate poisons out while maintaining blood pressure, is equally wild and wacky.

So for me it becomes a case of whether it’s all of one, a combination of both, or even the aggravating “neither.”

I do gyrate toward a belief in God simply because I am hopeful of seeing humanity grow sensitive to itself and one another, in order to prolong our stay on Earth instead of hastening our departure to unknown shorelines.

Yet I will never reject the discoveries of science, which help me to understand how our Universe came to be.

So when asked if I believe in evolution, my response is, “Evolution seems to believe in me. Thank God.”

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AMA

dictionary with letter A

AMA: (abbr.) American Medical Association

Much to the chagrin of a physician or two who have crossed my path, I look on the medical field with the same level of respect–and caution–that I do with politics and religion.

I know that doctors want me to have faith in them and to accept their diagnosis and treatment without question. But like politics and religion, medicine has things it does well and other things yet to be achieved.

For instance, politics affords us a rudimentary form of democracy which is certainly better than any other style of government presently available. But it also thrusts upon us politicians, gridlock and a ridiculous amount of debate, which stall needful expansion.

In the same fashion, religion stands as a symbol of goodness and kindness in a world gone mad, while simultaneously translating the mercy of God into the misery of restrictions.

The American Medical Association is much the same. Although they offer many advances, it is undoubtedly true that much of what they do will be viewed in the future as the equivalent of placing leeches on the body of the ailing George Washington.

It’s just important to understand:

  • What medicine knows and what medicine doesn’t know
  • What religion does well and what religion does poorly
  • And how politics advances the cause of humanity, and also how it can deter

So here’s a clue: don’t do anything until you understand. And that doesn’t mean that you should comprehend, or why don’t you “get it?”

Move out on the basis of your own understanding.

Several years ago I told my personal physician that a certain medication made me feel sick, and rather than lowering my blood pressure, was actually raising it. She doubted my assertion. So the next time I went in I brought a report, explaining that the pill was under scrutiny and needed to be carefully administered. She was still not convinced, but I insisted that she take me off the medication. When she did I started feeling better.

Two months later the drug was removed from the market.

This is not my doctor’s fault; she was following the precepts of her particular religious practice. It was my responsibility to avoid something I didn’t understand.

There are many things I don’t understand about politics and religion–and also medicine.

But rather than assuming I’m ignorant, I just choose to delay joining the party … until I’m sure of what’s in the punch.

Akimbo

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Akimbo: (adv) with limbs flung out widely or haphazardly. e.g.: she fell on the ice, arms and legs akimbo

It happens from time to time.

I think it’s because some people come into a motel room and use the shower for oil treatments, hair coloring or perhaps they have particularly slippery shampoos or conditioners. I’m not sure.

But you will occasionally come across a porcelain surface in a shower stall that is so slippery that you will suddenly find yourself sliding in every direction as you grope for the wall, only to discover that these tiles are equally as slippery–lending itself to the possibility of an uncontrolled sprawl.

The danger here is simple. If you try to correct your tumble too quickly, you actually increase the possibility of ending up akimbo, with parts of your legs and arms broken in the process. After all, usually people don’t really get hurt during a fall. Most of the time we suffer the damage by attempting to correct the spill–inaccurately.

This happened to me recently in one of those shower situations, as I began to slide in four different directions, incapable of handling more than two. My blood pressure shot up, fear gripped my soul and I had the instinct to try to rectify my situation quickly.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I allowed myself to slide to a position where I ceased to fall uncontrollably. I froze for a moment, regaining my wits, and then found a way to simply lean back and land with a safe bounce on my ass.

It was beautiful. It was wonderful. It was controlled. It was creative. It kept me from asking parts of my body that were not suited towards weird angles to restructure their joints and ligaments.

Because even though I may never use the word “akimbo” ever again, I do understand that arms and legs were never meant to be asses.

The ass learned a long time ago that it has a calling in a crisis–to handle all the crap.

Accident

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accident: (n) an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury.

All four of my naturally born sons and three young men who I adopted and took into my home … were accidents.

At least, that’s the word I normally use, although when I look at the definition I find that I have been misstating the facts. These seven children were certainly not unfortunate. They also gave me no damage or injury, ide from a few nights of raised blood pressure over unkempt rooms and notorious behavior.

But they WERE accidents. I didn’t plan them. Some people take great pride in the fact that they plotted families, insisting that wanting to have a child is much more noble than acquiring one in the heat of passion, without awareness.

But I think the word “accident” is very important–because how we respond to accidents, or events beyond our expectation and control–really determines the depth of our character and in many cases, the extent of our success.

I learned a long time ago that life is not impressed with my plans nor intimidated by my energetic motivations. Life has its own agenda and pushes that forward to find out if anybody can survive the mold on their daily bread. Some people just do better with mold. Flemming, for instance, found a way to turn it into penicillin. I, myself, will not throw away a slice of bread because it has mold on it. I just cut away the green. (Yuk, right?)

But using that mind set, I have learned to take the good with the bad and salvage from it something worthy of proceeding.

I would not remind my children that they were accidents–but I’ve never lied to them, either. My first son was conceived on the grass next to a horse pasture after my senior prom. That has a certain amount of charm, doesn’t it? The exact locations of the other accidental impregnations are not clear to me–I’m sure none are quite as dramatic as the “horsing around” in the grass.

But none of them were planned. And the three young men who came into my house in later years, absorbed and adopted as sons, were just as bewildered by their presence in my home as I was in taking on my second batch of human cookie dough. Accidents are a good thing … IF we change the definition from “occasions of injury” to “our new reality.” The longer we resist change, the more devastating it seems. The sooner we realize that what has happened to us is not an accident, but a by-product of a whole collage of circumstances, the better off we become.

  • No one was ever cured of cancer by denying it.
  • No one ever became a great artist by refusing to paint.
  • And no one ever moves forward until they stop looking at what has happened to them as a turn for the worse.

I had seven accidents in my life which are all now fine, grown young men. That’s pretty good.

Maybe that’s what the insurance companies mean by “accident forgiveness.”