Complexion

Complexion: (n) the natural color, texture, and appearance of a person’s skin

Sometimes I want to laugh, and I’m told it’s not permissible. They connote it would be disrespectful or place me out of step with the times.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

But I find it very difficult to take one matter seriously–after tens of thousands of years of habitation on the Earth, human beings are still evaluating one another by complexion–and not only evaluating, but feeling the need to live out a personality, a lifestyle, and a culture because of the hue of their skin.

But on this, the liberals and conservatives agree: there are many different cultures with many different customs unique unto them, which are often initiated simply due to the color of skin.

So if you’re a black person you don’t just have a darker complexion–you also need to be in agreement with your ancestors, going all the way back to Africa, which many Americans who have black skin might not even be able to identify on a map.

And if you’re a rosy-cheeked person who has relatives who were once Vikings, you must surely have an affinity for hard work, brats and beer (while denying rape and pillaging.)

I’m a mess. Ends up that I do have a color to my complexion, but enjoy perks from all different cultures and styles.

When will the Earth be able to solve its problems?

When our thinking has a deeper tone than our complexion.

 

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Butterfly

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Butterfly: (n) an insect with two pairs of large wings

Moths hate butterflies.

I’m sure they do.

I’ve never actually had a conversation with a moth about the subject but having watched them fly around lights and flames, I realize they feel trapped.

Not only are they attracted to shiny objects, often leaving them vulnerable, but they are also stuck with gray or brown wings.

Then here comes the butterfly.

Butterflies don’t fly. They don’t gather around glowing places.

Butterflies flit. They dart.

And most obviously, they have color in their wings. It sets them apart. It makes them look like they give a damn instead of grabbing the first t-shirt out of the drawer. They spend a little time shopping. They are conscious of their appearance.

They seem to be aware that the world needs some beauty.

Yes, I guess if I were a moth I would constantly be criticizing the butterfly.

“Stop flitting! And who’s to say your golden, orange and black-with-hints-of-purple hues are any better than my grayscale?”

 

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Border

Border: (n) the edge or boundary of something

Is the purpose of a border to separate us from the people we hate?Dictionary B

Or maybe we don’t hate them–maybe we have convinced ourselves that they’re just so “different” that they need to be on the other side of something.

And then if that line doesn’t work, we can place guards to protect our border from aliens invading us.

But what if the guards aren’t efficient enough? We’ll need some sort of fence. After all, you know the old saying: “Good fences make good neighbors.”

But what if the more athletic adversaries learn how to jump our fences? We will certainly need a wall.

But God knows they are industrious enough in their thinking to fly airplanes over our walls and land on our turf. So we will certainly need to stop them at the airports and determine whether they are one of us, look like one of us, and will fit in with the rest of us.

This is going to take a tremendous staff of well-trained individuals who are able to identify the non-us.

And how limited should we make that vision?

Should it be based upon personality, color, attitude?

And we certainly can’t forget religion. We don’t want infidels coming in to infiltrate our spiritual utopia.

It seems that in no time at all we will need more people keeping other people out in order for us to enjoy being who we are.

And then comes the final fear:

What if the people already here are just very good at hiding their predilections of being foreigners?

 

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Bond

Bond: (v) to be joined securely to something else

Putting my shoes on.Dictionary B

It’s a confirmation that I’m heading somewhere–usually out the door.

So footwear has a special significance to me. It tells me I’m ready. It tells me I’m going to be moving from my place of personal sanctuary into the coliseum of fellow-gladiators.

At that point, I need to understand one immutable reality: I must bond.

  • I must find a reason to get along with others.
  • I must be looking for commonality.
  • I must carry a pocketful of logic to pay the toll on a highway of misunderstanding.
  • I must realize that even though the humans around me may put on ugly masks or disguise themselves behind clown noses, beneath all that fakery is another soul not so different from me.
  • I must penetrate color.
  • I must be able to incorporate another gender.

I must find the bond … or stop being surprised that the whole damn world seems unglued.

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Approach

dictionary with letter A

Ap·proach (n): 1. a way of dealing with something. E.G.: “We need a whole new approach.”

I find myself in Clarksville, Tennessee.

If you’re going to be a journeyman, you should be prepared to journey and become a better man in all situations.

I think I pride myself in the fact that I’m able to blend with various cultures and be of benefit to the people around me, as they also share their flavors and insights in my direction.

At breakfast this morning, there was a man who serves the food, who happens to be a fellow of color. I had been interacting with him for several days with a bit of conversation, generosity and expressing interest in his life.

Honestly, I felt quite cosmopolitan doing so, feeling that I was “a man for all seasons.” (Remember, arrogance is always more likely when one thinks one is being righteous)

As I sat at breakfast, two other young chaps, who happened to be of his hue, came into the room, sat down, and began to talk. I didn’t want to be impolite by listening in, but I did anyway, and it didn’t make any difference.

I was only able to catch about every tenth word and make out its meaning from my limited translating ears.

My acquaintance was a different individual around these two than he was with me. I realized that when he spoke to me he was more cautious, overly respectful and maintained a certain distance.

It wouldn’t even have occurred to me had these two gentlemen not come in and brought out his internal workings. I realized that through the combination of the Southern culture, his upbringing, racial tensions in America, and honestly, my ignorance, that he and I had barely brushed against each other.

I had deceived myself into believing that I was a “great communicator,” when really, I was still just a color, a shape and an obstacle.

It gave me pause.

What is the approach we will need to cross these horrible barriers we’ve constructed between each other, and to heal the inconsideration and atrocities of careless ancestors?

I’m not sure what the approach should be, but I know that somewhere along the line we will have to be honest about our lackings, laugh at our weaknesses and give some good ground to one another–or nothing will change.

 

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Anymore

dictionary with letter A

Anymore: (adv) usually used with a negative connotation, to any further extent; any longer: (e.g. she refused to listen anymore)

I don’t want to focus on color anymore.

I don’t want to pursue an eye for an eye anymore.

I don’t want to treat women as opponents anymore.

I don’t want to be jealous of my fellow-humans anymore.

I don’t want to make God work so damn hard to save me anymore.

I don’t want to look across a room and decide what I think about a person anymore.

I don’t want to be so demanding anymore.

I don’t want to look for a savior in politics anymore.

I don’t want to eat more than I need anymore.

I don’t want to pray to a God in heaven without looking for Him on earth anymore.

I don’t want to watch trash on TV that has been touted as art anymore.

I don’t want to hurt people anymore.

I don’t want to call my selfishness self-preservation anymore.

I don’t want to accept pornography, excess and violence anymore.

I don’t want to pretend that abortion is a casual choice anymore.

I don’t want to insist that I have a “fat gene” anymore.

I don’t want to don the robes of judgment anymore.

I don’t want to get in a bad mood and pick a fight anymore.

I don’t want to rationalize my bad behavior anymore.

I don’t want to look on the rest of the world as non-American anymore.

I don’t want to believe in a God who claims to be love but occasionally sprouts hate through his followers anymore.

I don’t want to second-guess my generosity anymore.

I don’t want to look back on the “anymores” of my life which were opportunities to set myself apart and do something great, and choose to be mediocre anymore.

“Anymore” doesn’t have to be negative if you use it to do positive things … to battle your own stupidity.

 

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