Countless: (adj) too numerous to count; innumerable

I often get very confused over the hunters, gatherers and nesters—who is who and what is what, and certainly, why is why. Perhaps there isn’t a category for everything.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

When I was a child, I remember that we sang a hymn in church called “Count Your Blessings.” According to the tune, we were supposed to name them, one by one.

I found it fascinating.

God, who is a Spirit—who doesn’t possess physical objects as a symbol of His worth, wants us to sit around and tally what we’ve accumulated to prove that He gives a damn. Really?

Somewhere along the line, we’ve traded in the meaning of life for a comfortable explanation which can offered at a party.

This is the power of the word “countless.” Even though it tips its hat—or in this case, front—to the word “count,” it quickly warns us that trying to assess our value, the esteem of others, the purpose of the Universe or the favor of God by numbering our blessings, is not only fruitless, but smacks of pernicious arrogance.

I remember sitting on the side of the road with a flat tire, and turning to my friends and saying, “What a beautiful day it is to be stopped.”

The reaction, though not verbal, was a combination of unnecessary admiration for my optimism and aggravation over the same.

I wasn’t trying to be coy. Nor was I attempting to be clever and positive.

What I was trying to communicate was that no matter what happens to us, the true blessing of life, which is the ability to breathe, choose and function, cannot be counted.

It is countless.

Donate Button

Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast

Good News and Better News



Claustrophobia: (n) irrational fear of confined places

Who says it’s irrational??

Obviously, the definition was put together by people who pride themselves on the fact that they can tolerate small spaces.

I’ve always been claustrophobic. It was particularly embarrassing when I was a young man, playing junior high football, and at the end of
the game–a victory–everyone would jump on top of each other, creating a huge pile of sweaty, stinky, adolescents. I occasionally found myself at the bottom of that mountain.

It was embarrassing because even though I was a large fellow, when I looked up into the surroundings, it seemed like I was seventy-five feet deep, stuck in a hole–and couldn’t breathe.

I slashed out with my hands, throwing kids hither, thither and yon. My coach yelled at me for going into a violent fit. I took him to the side and tried to explain that I had a terror of small spaces, making me feel as if I was suffocating.

He looked at me and said, “Get over it. Life is in your face.”

As he walked away, I immediately began to plot how to keep life out of my face. After all, if you’re claustrophobic you need some room to inhale.

And in my opinion, having that room is not a bad idea anyway.



Donate Button


Asthma: (n) a respiratory condition marked by spasms in the bronchi of the lungs, causing difficulty in breathing.dictionary with letter A

ne of the sure signs of dying is difficulty in breathing, which is followed by the surest sign of dying, which is not breathing.

So I can’t imagine a more terrifying condition than asthma, which simulates your death for you over and over again, just in case you forgot what it might be like.

I’ve only had shortness of breath once or twice in my life, and I can tell you, it was mortifying.

Death would not be so bad if you didn’t have to stop breathing. The body just downright objects to that.

I have been underwater for a few more seconds than my lungs appreciated, trying to surface, praying prayers in every single language I knew, including a few I made up, desperately paddling my way to get to oxygen again.

I think because movies have treated asthma as a condition which is handled with an inhaler or some sort of medication, we don’t really pick up how horrifying it must be to be unable to get air into your lungs.

So all of my concern and prayers go out to those who experience this condition, and have been victimized by it–and also a quick prayer for a cure.

I like to breathe.

When I was a kid I didn’t even enjoy going under water and holding my breath to compete with others, to see who could last the longest. I’ve never participated in a contest while going through a tunnel to see who could hold their breath through the whole experience.

I’m pretty well addicted to about 45 inhales and exhales every minute.


Donate Button

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


Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A


Actuary: (n.) a person who compiles and analyzes statistics and uses them to calculate insurance risks and  premiums.

It looked like it was gonna be fun.

It was put out by one of those famous insurance companies as a kind of test balloon to help people understand their situation with life insurance, and also their own personal well-being and health. It was a quiz with twenty-five questions which you were supposed to answer truthfully, and after you submitted your answers, they would send you, within a very short time via email, the proposed date of your death, based on the information you provided.

It was probably quite ridiculous, but still seemed like a good way to kill an hour while I was waiting for the next piece of excitement to leap into my life. So I started answering the questions, being painfully honest, and within about fifteen minutes, I completed the quiz.

I followed the instructions carefully, submitted my conclusions, and about thirty minutes later, I received an automated-response email from the website, with my day and year of death.

Now, when I finished the test, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But what came back to me was a real surprise. Dare I say—a shocker?Because according to the results of my quiz and the actuary tables of this particular insurance company, I had been dead already for two years, three months and four days.

Thinking there had been some sort of error made in the transfer of material, I persisted by filling out the quiz one more time—with a little less candor. But this time I was nervous and hovered around my computer, waiting for the ding to ring my ongoing faith in some sort of longevity.

True to form, half an hour later, there was my response.

I had acquired five extra months through my lying.

This was several years ago. So I don’t put much faith in actuary tables or predictions on human lifespan. I guess it works this way: you keep taking deep breaths and moving forward until you’re not able to breathe anymore. At that point you will get the actual day and time of your death.

So in closing, I would not recommend that you take one of these tests unless you want to insert the data of an Olympic athlete.

For me, I will just wait and see if my eyes open in the morning, smile if they do—and realize that I cheated the computer out of one more day.