Copper: (n) a metallic element having a characteristic reddish-brown color: used in large quantities as an electrical conductor

Truth tiptoes gingerly on a tightrope between science and mysticism.

The absence of mysticism makes us think we’re stuck dealing only with elements of the Earth without us possessing a connection to the rest of the Universe.

The absence of science turns us into superstitious, impractical idealists who put too much focus on things which are not of the Earth.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I was talking to a man who was completely convinced that copper was a magical element which, when infused into clothing, healed the joints, bones and tendons. I wanted to listen to him with an open mind, but the claims he made were so outlandish—especially when he insisted that even cancer could be eliminated by copper-infused wearables.

You see, that’s what mysticism does. It tries to turn copper—which is a very valuable conductor of electricity and important element—into something it is not—a heal-all.

Yet science, for fear of wading into mysticism, can miss a little piece of Earth’s wonder because the idea was first touted by charlatans.

Do I believe that copper has the ability to heal my achy joints?

Do I think that some herb found in the rain forest of Brazil will make me pee better?

I don’t know.

But I am not so pessimistic as to ignore the fact that a very special type of bread mold was discovered to have healing properties, which led to the creation of penicillin, which has saved tens of thousands of lives.

So would I wear an arm band infused with copper to help my joints or drink a cup of herbal tea to calm my nerves?

I might if the arm band was stylish and the tea was tasty,


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Closure: (n) the process of closing something

A papa’s brain is very reluctant to accept the death of his thirteen-year-old son–especially when that boy had been in a vegetative state for nearly six years, following a hit-and-run car accident.

When the young man died, it seemed righteous. After all, his only daily companion had been pain with discomfort, along with a few gentle

The father didn’t feel great grief over the loss, just immense guilt. Matter of fact, for the next six months, the young boy kept calling to him in his dreams, asking his father to come to a creek in the middle of the woods in Central Louisiana. The significan ce of the location was baffling–but the purpose for the union was obvious.

It was a retreat into nature to find a natural way to heal bones and brains, and restore the little fellow back to wholeness.

Night after night the beckoning came, and the father joined his son by the water, feeling the coolness of the breeze as they feverishly worked on exercises and pursued healing.

Then, just as quickly as the invitation had come, it was gone.

He was gone.

But what the young boy from the dream had succeeded in doing was taking away the guilt from Papa’s mind. Spending those nights dreaming of a cure gave Daddy some closure.

It was an act of mercy.

It was a mission of kindness.

It was apparently something that God allowed the young soul to do … before going to receive his reward.


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Calcium: (n) the chemical element of atomic number 20, a soft gray metal.

I know there’s calcium in milk. It’s why, when I was a kid, I drank the stuff–because I was told it would “make my bones strong.”

Don’t you think bones are weird? I mean, we know they’re in our bodies–otherwise we couldn’t sit, walk or stand. But you can’t see them.

It’s kind of like having a soul. The absence of one is terrifying, but the presence just makes you upright.

So somewhere along the line, when I grew older, I was told that milk was no longer necessary because I did not need the calcium for my bones.

You know what’s funny? I didn’t even question that.

I even heard warnings that if you continued to take in too much calcium, you would get kidney stones. (As I said, please don’t repeat that–it’s just something that tripped across my ears.)

I’m glad I have bones, just like I’m glad I have a soul, and even though I don’t see my bones (unless there’s a really serious problem) likewise, my soul keeps me walking straight.


Well, let’s not get into it.


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dictionary with letter A

Ambulance: (n) a vehicle equipped for taking sick or injured people to and from the hospital, especially in emergencies

I’ve only been in an ambulance once.

I’ve seen them on TV. I’ve watched shows about those who drive them and care for the injured.

But many years ago, when my son was hit by a car and they placed his dramatically injured body into the back of that howling van, the reality of its purpose, function and destiny became quite clear to me.

I didn’t know what to do.

When I get confused, frustrated or totally wacked out of my mind, I always talk too much. I probably should have sat there, silent and stunned. But somehow, as I perched by the side of my child and the attendant was working on him, trying to revive him, putting tubes into his body, I felt as if I needed to speak.

Maybe it was similar to letting the pressure off of a steam engine to keep it from blowing up. I don’t remember all of what I said–I’m sure some of it was stupid, because the technician occasionally looked up, surprised at my perception or question.,

I looked down at my son’s compound fracture in his left leg and I asked the gentleman if it would be difficult to fix it.

Without missing a beat, between checking pulse and heart rate, he replied, “They’re good with bones. What you need to pray about is the head injury.”

I felt like someone shot me with a gun.

Even though I’ve never had that experience, it is the closest way I can think of to describe how those words pierced.

I was quiet the rest of the way.

Ambulances are like so many other things in life: they should be avoided at all costs.

But mercy should be given to those who find themselves within. 


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.



by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acellular: (adj.) not consisting of, divided into or containing cells.

Sometimes it’s just difficult to think about how we’re made.

I mean, I look at my hand and I see a completed, fleshy mechanism. I watch how it works as I wiggle my fingers or grasp onto a bottle of Coke. The gadget just makes sense.

And then you think a little further–down to the individual parts. The fingers, the bones, the connective tissue, the arteries, the skin… and honestly, it gets a little spooky.

Truthfully, even though I know I’m a human being, I don’t like to think of myself as flesh and blood. In a way it grosses me out–that right underneath that magnificent hand that God has given me is all this intricate circuitry and organization which could falter at the least little breakdown.

And that’s just when I think about the fingers and bones. If you allow your brain to start considering that there are cells inside those fingers and bones that are constantly dividing, growing and changing, as other cells die off and flake into oblivion–don’t you think that’s freakazoid?? Especially when they show you the picture of a cell.

Honestly, I rarely make the trip to the cell idea. And on top of that, I am completely incapable of considering molecules and atoms.

But what is really weird is to imagine something that would be constructed that is acellular (even though I would insist that sometimes my phone service seems to abundantly qualify …)

As weird as it is to consider cells constructing something, what is the glue for the clump of life that would be acellular?

I probably would not have made a very good doctor. Looking under the microscope would have given me the creeps. So consider my dilemma today–when I, who is squeamish about cells, is asked to consider acellular.