Burnish

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Burnish: (v) to polish something by rubbing.

An important exercise:

Add up all the hours you and I have spent complaining, resisting, avoiding or diminishing the need to improve something. Now compare that to the number of hours it would have taken to do the job.

Every single time, the amount of energy expended in bitching exceeds the required minutes necessary to burnish up the situations in our lives.

Case in point: when I was much younger and rented an apartment, my parents gave me a beat-up coffee table. It was light brown wood, so every little scrape, nick and stain was very noticeable. Bluntly, I did not care. I was a punk.

One day a girlfriend of mine came in and told me that if I took some furniture polish to the table, it would look a hundred percent better. I nodded my head, simulating interest, but inwardly dismissed all her claims. She made the point three more times before she finally walked in, polish and cloth in hand, and quickly–no more than five minutes–transformed that piece of worn down trash into a burnished surface.

It was so shiny that I could actually look down and see my face.

I didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry over her interference. Before I could decide which profile to select, she gave me a quick hug and said, “You’re a man. You’re often too dumb to do what’s necessary.”

She left the room.

My problem was not being a man. My difficulty was that I did not believe I was worthy of a polished table, so I decided to leave it as ugly and unkempt as I felt myself.

 

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Acajou

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acajou: {n.} 1. the wood of certain tropical timber-yielding trees, esp. mahogany 2. another term for cashew.

I’m not so sure I could identify mahogany if I saw it. Some sort of dark wood, normally associated with affluence. I don’t know why.

I DO know what cashews are.

Now most people would not think that cashews and mahogany have a whole lot in common, although I must admit, it would be wonderful to have a coffee table made out of cashews, offering a practical snack on the spot. But I don’t think it would be possible to break mahogany into little chunks, placing it into tin cans to offer as a part of a meal which began with soup and ended with nuts.

But since they share a common name the message that rings through to me is that we are much better off in life looking for similarities than we are focusing on differences.

In other words, if I stand in front of a group of people and say, “Mahogany and cashews are really different, aren’t they?” everybody would agree and soon we would be onto other topics with very little enlightenment, and also with me not coming across as very creative or intuitive.

But if’ I am able to find union between mahogany and cashews, then I have done something of quality, linking my world together instead of emphasizing the chasms between ideas.

  • How is a Republican like a Democrat?
  • How is a liberal like a conservative?
  • How is a Christian like a worldly person?
  • How is a woman like a man?

These are the kinds of questions that bring us together instead of tearing us apart.

Mahogany is considered to be a very expensive and durable wood. Cashews are the King of the Nuts, and even though the title does not sound particularly honorable, it does carry its own weight and flavor. So as I discover that mahogany and cashews do share the same name in this particular dictionary definition, I feel juiced up by the project of finding the similarities in their characters.

You can feel free to divide your world into smaller and smaller boxes until you’ve littered your closet with a whole series of unmarked packages.

Not me. I want to throw away the boxes and see if this thing we call human passage isn’t just a puzzle, trying to fit the pieces together … instead of tearing them apart.