Tag Archives: coward

Coward

Coward: (n) a person lacking courage

As I stood outside, I stared at a roaring fire ablaze at the motel where I was staying. Though nearly fifty yards from the direct heat of the flames, I was still terrified—frightened to move, my hands shaking.

There is an astronomical difference between considering bravery and bravely considering. I would never have imagined that the lifeforce and anger of fire could be so petrifying.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I was motionless.

I did not go inside to get my personal belongings. But I wondered if I could have mustered enough courage to run in and retrieve a family member left behind. Or, in that moment when I was looking to the right and left to see if there was anyone better qualified or willing to assist, would I have squandered the tiny window of opportunity and end up looking like a coward?

Where do we cross the line between valuing our lives and clutching them? Is there a point where we would be willing die that someone or something else could live?

I don’t know.

In the midst of that motel fire, I comforted many people, and fought off the urge to scream. I realized that the difference between being brave and becoming a coward may simply lie in deciding not to run away.

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Chloroform

Chloroform: (n) a sweet-smelling anesthetic.

I am a phony.

I’m hoping that if I admit it, I won’t have to be accosted by the critics who discover it.

Here is where my phoniness comes to the forefront: I often think about matters which I insist would be intriguing, but if offered the opportunity, I’d turn it down.

This came to my mind this morning when I looked at the word “chloroform.” I have watched television shows where a character has placed this chemical on a
 handkerchief, covering the nose of an enemy, putting him or her into a deep sleep.

While viewing this I have thought to myself, I wonder what that’s like? Is there any pain, discomfort, hangover or headache that would accompany the experience? I am intrigued.

Yet if somebody walked into the room and asked, “Would you like to find out what it’s like to go under?” I would pass.

Any number of situations would fall into this pattern.

  • “I am interested.”
  • “Here you are.”
  • “No, thanks.”

It’s not that I’m a coward. I actually consider myself to be very adventurous. But it’s much easier to envision myself brave than it is to prove it in the courtroom of human events.

I occasionally watch people jumping out of an airplane and wonder if I would actually do it.

It’s ridiculous. Unless the plane was on fire and twelve feet from the ground, I would remain within.

I have avoided friendships, romantic encounters and probably passed up on a good deal or two simply because I could not pull the trigger at the right moment.

I don’t lack experience; I am not a novice. It’s just that in selected moments, I was a coward.

Or maybe I should call myself an “over-stater.”

Yes. That sounds better: “That fellow really over-states his interest level.”

And since I have grown weary of being quite this vulnerable, I shall stop my typing and chloroform this article.

 

 

 

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Brawl

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Brawl: (n) a rough or noisy fight or quarrel.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to share this story–maybe because it drains a quart or two from my virility if I relate it in truthful detail.Dictionary B

But many, many years ago, I was walking the streets of the inner portions of a large city. I was with two friends, and we were “feeling our oats,” as they say–studly and strong.

In the process of our little jaunt, we were confronted by three other dudes, apparently residents of the neighborhood, who found our presence distasteful.

We probably should have cooled our heads, relaxed and been respectful of this trio of locals, but we just kept boppin’ along, trying to ignore them.

They didn’t want to be ignored.

So a series of insults were flung back and forth–some questioning our relationship with our mothers, others suggesting that these adversaries perhaps wore pink tennis shoes.

Long story short, it was squaring off to a fight.

We were about to have a brawl with people we did not know simply because nobody was willing to back down.

That’s what a brawl is–an unplanned fight that occurs because conversation is implausible–and violence suddenly and unexplainably seems logical.

Right before we were ready to mix it up (and by the way, I do not know what that would entail, since none of us had ever been in a fight before) I suddenly got cold feet, tingly balls, scared bowels and a chill going down my spine.

I didn’t want to scuffle.

I didn’t want to be a coward.

So I raised my hand and said, “Stop. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I have a heart condition.”

I do not know why I did this or why I chose to claim a debilitating disorder. But for some reason it diffused the situation, and the three guys looked at me like they were eyeballing their grandpa.

They gave me permission to walk away.

And shortly after I eased by them and tiptoed down the street, the remaining five decided they had lost interest in the fight, exchanged one last round of macho bullcrap, and the two groups went their separate ways.

My friends thanked me for being so inventive in avoiding the skirmish.

I learned that night that brawls are to be avoided at all costs, even if you temporarily have to feign geriatric.

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Brave

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Brave: (adj) ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage

I have discovered that one of the more brave things to do is choose the correct moment to be a coward.Dictionary B

First, you have to be fearless about the characterization. Is it cowardly to know that you’re outnumbered, ill-prepared, uncertain, or to proceed with caution–even delay?

I don’t think so.

Bravery always reminds me of the Native American going hunting, only having the resources and time to make four arrows. Yet at the end of the day he knows two things: he must come back with dinner, and he’s only got four shots.

So what is the goal? Avoiding foolish undertakings that may seem noble or adventurous but will steal the quality of his supply.

So he waits.

He waits for that moment when he can get close enough to the deer.

If he does that–if he passes over the long shot, refuses to chase tracks that lead nowhere and simply allows the opportunity to come close to him–he has a much better chance of returning home with game … as the brave instead of a foolish archer.

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Aqualung

dictionary with letter A

Aqualung (n): a portable breathing apparatus for divers.

There are some movies I just can’t watch.

I shall not bore you in this brief article by listing them, nor elaborating on each and every style that curries my disfavor. Let me just say that any movie where people are swimming under water, holding their breath, scares the…well, scares the salt water out of me.

Especially when people around me start trying to imitate, holding their breath also, to prove they would be able to survive the ordeal being dramatically acted out in front of us.

Let me be honest. Normally I find myself to be a generous, giving sort of soul. If you’re a dollar short, I will come along. If you need a lift to work, count on me.

But if we happen to be under water, sucking on breathing tubes and suddenly my tank goes dry, I’ll rip that mother right out of your mouth.

That’s right. It wouldn’t matter if you were my mother.

Some sort of terror of suffocating would cause me to abandon all social restraint, and Christian training, for that matter.

Upon resurfacing, breathing and seeing your body floating in the water, I would be ashamed. I might even second-guess my instinct to survive.

But I can’t even bear to watch people trying to use those tanks in a movie, or discovering that they are low on O2, and begin passing it between them like there’s a choice for the other person to survive.

I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this and I certainly hope I never find myself in this position. Because no one wants to play the coward in the movie, who swims away from the little girl who’s in peril.

But I guarantee you, if I were placed in such a dilemma, I would swim away … like a little girl in peril. 

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