DBA

DBA: (adj) Doing Business As

Over-prepared.

I have been guilty of this.

I have what I consider to be a healthy sense of gloom. (I’ve never bought into doom, but gloom catches my fancy.)

So if I’m going to a meeting, I always take too much information.

If I’m being interviewed, I have been known to over-answer the question.

And in the process of doing this, I cast a suspicious light on myself, because folks wonder why I’m yammering so much without being probed.

For instance, I recall the first time I went to a bank to start an account with my music group. I was unnerved. Well, maybe not unnerved, but kind of a mingling of overly careful and defiant.

I had read what the bank required in order to open an account called DBA—”Doing Business As.”

In other words, it was me doing business as the name of my music group.

It was really quite simple.

Matter of fact, we were halfway through the process of signing up with the bank officer when I started jabbering.

I offered that we were just getting started.

I detailed examples of how much money we made—or how little money we made.

The process, which was really rather uncomplicated, became bizarre because of my off-putting approach. Then the bank officer, feeling a bit uncertain due to my jittery profile—which now included some sweat at my brow—called over his superior to handle the matter.

I was screwing this thing up.

When the senior officer arrived, he sat down and realized that I had just painted myself into a corner of flummox. He turned to me and said kindly, “Calm down. People get DBA accounts all the time—and most of them aren’t criminals.”

I laughed.

It felt good to laugh.

Matter of fact, laughing may be the only remedy when we have allowed ourselves to go bonkers over nothing.

Anoxia

dictionary with letter A

Anoxia: (n.) an absence of oxygen.

I felt like crap, if by saying that, you mean a discarded pile of useless waste lying in the corner, needing disposal.

I didn’t know why.

I knew I was sick. That doesn’t help very much. Being aware of illness only makes you clamor for a quick solution to get back to normalcy.

Sometimes that’s possible. A good night’s sleep is often the perfect elixir. But I had several opportunities to sleep and felt no better.

So I went to the doctor, who sent me to the hospital, and the first thing they did was put oxygen into my nostrils.

I felt very stupid having tubes coming out of my nose.

They explained that my oxygen level was not sufficient for me to get the air I needed to recover from my physical ailment. I tried to argue, but after a while felt silly objecting to something as simple as a breathing mechanism.

It was astounding.

Within an hour, just having oxygen put into my body and having the levels rise, made me feel so much better. It gave me the will to want to get well again instead of commiserating over a gloom of pending doom.

It was just oxygen–yet I needed it. I wasn’t getting it from the air. My lungs apparently had decided they were part-time labor.

But the introduction of the good stuff set in motion “good stuff” for my healing.

It got me thinking.

We’re so critical of people who are depressed, angry, poor or unmotivated.

  • We never consider that there’s a certain emotional oxygen required, the ability to tell the truth without fear.
  • How about spiritual oxygen? God is our God so we can find out how to be better people.
  • Certainly there’s a mental oxygen, which clears out the cobwebs in our brain, allowing fresh ideas to seep through.
  • And the simple physical oxygen of breathing, exercising and eating well can make us feel invincible.

I’m no longer afraid to be in need–because discovering the better things I can breathe in empowers me … to be made whole.

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