Tag Archives: earth

America

dictionary with letter A

America: ( n) a landmass in the Western Hemisphere that consists of the continents of North and South America joined by the Isthmus of Panama.

  • Is it an idea?
  • Is it a connecting tissue of continents?
  • Is it a clumping of exceptional people culled from the available humanity on Earth?
  • Is it a democratic form of government?
  • Is it a slogan?
  • Is it a political rallying cry?
  • Is it divinely inspired?
  • Is it a passing fancy?
  • Is it a big bully to the rest of the world?
  • Is it a savior to the oppressed souls of the planet?
  • Is it an emerging reality, lacking complete definition?
  • Is it a dream?
  • Is it a nightmare?
  • Is it a reason for God to continue to have hope in His heart?
  • Is it united?
  • Is it just states?
  • Is it a purposeful action?
  • Is it a location for capitalism to flourish?
  • Is it still welcoming the teeming poor?
  • Is it symbolic?
  • Is it literal?
  • Is it full of itself or is it full of promise?
  • Is it blessed by God or is it cursed by Allah?

America.

It is a land where I am allowed to ask these questions, post them on the Internet without fear of having my door broken down, being hauled off to jail and questioned in a steamy room by men with cigar-and-liquor breath.

Wow.

God bless America.

 

Alive

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Alive: (adj.) living; not dead.

One of my favorite stories from the Good Book is the discourse between the angel sitting on the stone that had been rolled away from the tomb of Jesus with the women who had come to make him smell sweeter for burial.

The reason I like it so much is that it’s filled with attitude.The angel pipes off with a bit of verve, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

It’s really kind of bratty–especially since these ladies had just seen Jesus die, and were trying to be nice … with spice.

But the angel had insider information. Jesus was alive.

It’s powerful.

It’s so powerful that I am determined to only pursue situations in my time on earth that welcome being alive. How do we know when something is alive?

It’s hungry.

Yes, there is an appetite. A true sign of sickness is that the sight of food makes us throw up. And the evidence of indifference is when we no longer want to eat information to make us stronger.

Things that are alive are thirsty.

They need to replenish fluids because they’re constantly losing them. If they don’t, they dry up and blow away.

I believe being alive involves some manifestation of laughing.

Maybe it’s not always an outward giggle, but it is a sense of good cheer–that nothing is over until it’s over, so why discuss the premature death of anything?

But in like manner, to be alive requires crying.

If we don’t lament loss and acknowledge the absence, we will not have the sensibility to fill the vacuum.

You can tell something is still alive because it’s trying.

I once saw a bird fall from the sky, injured. But even though it was wounded, it continued to move, attempting to gain flight. It lifted from the ground with its one remaining wing, for a few feet successful, and then fell again. But eventually the bird made its way to a place of safety. It kept trying.

I meet individuals who consider themselves intellectual superiors because they have given up on the idea of human beings. I don’t argue with them. It’s ridiculous to debate with the deceased.

And finally, if something is alive, it’s growing.

I’ve been dealing with this in the past month. Just because I’m aging does not mean I can’t keep my muscles toned, my diet correct and my aspirations courageous. When we stop growing, we are bedding down for our death.

Look for things that are alive.

And stop seeking the living among the dead.

 

Advocate

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Advocate: (n) a person who publicly supports or recommends a particular cause or policy

I shudder. Honestly, this definition scares me.

  • Publicly supports.
  • Recommends.
  • Cause.

I just look back in history and realize that the vast majority of people who have lived on this planet called Earth have, at least for a season, been advocates of immoral and ridiculous ignorance.

It is so easy to jump on the bandwagon and begin to play out of tune. Why do we DO it?

Maybe a better question is, are there ideas or standards that need to be defended, or, if they really are good ideas and standards, are they going to survive a little critique and analysis without me bullying people into following them?

I don’t know if I’ve met an advocate who I think is actually contributing to the common good.

For instance, I certainly believe we should treat animals with respect and honor their space, but I find those involved in the cause of animal rights to be overwrought and obnoxious.

I also believe in God and the loving mercy He wishes to bestow upon His children, but I find the tedium of religion to be tiresome, burdensome and even vicious in its intent.

I absolutely love my country, but those who are advocates of a political party and beat the drum for votes are not only aggravating, but at whim can shut down the very government they promised to serve.

Maybe our goal should not be to become an advocate, but rather, a billboard–to quietly pursue our dreams and beliefs, demonstrating them through our successes and personalities. Perhaps mankind did not evolve from the monkey, but I will tell you this–like the ape, we are much better at mimicking than we are at taking orders.

We seem to more enjoy looking around and finding things that appeal to us and are beneficial, adding them into our own lifestyle, than we do having someone preach it, teach it or advocate for it.

What would I be willing to publicly state as truth? What would I believe is still going to be around a hundred years after I’m dead, maintaining its validity? Doesn’t that narrow it down?

The only one I’ve come up with is: NoOne is better than anyone else.

I guess if you were pushing me, I would have to say of that assertion and statement that I am an advocate.

Abyss

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abyss: (n.) a deep or seemingly bottomless chasm.

For some reason, this particular scene really got inside me and registered.

Honestly, I watch a lot of things in movies that don’t impact me at all.  This is why I’m not fond of fantasy. I’m not looking for a way to escape reality–I’m looking for a way to make my present situation fantastic.

But when I watched the movie, The Abyss, and I saw the two characters trapped at the bottom of the ocean, needing to cross a large breadth of water to get to safety, knowing that one of them would not be able to achieve the task and would have to be carried, and that the best way to perform that and give the other one the chance was to have that one individual propelled literally as dead weight–it put a chill down my spine.

Obviously, there was great acting. But just the THOUGHT of being willing to die, placing my trust in another person to revive me on the other side, was absolutely horrifying to my spirit. And as I watched the flick, I found myself needing to turn away because the suspense and danger of it rattled me so.

I realized that I could never trust anyone quite that much. First of all, we would have to agree that the worst part of dying is being there for it. What happens after death is beyond our meager comprehension, and before death is just what we call Tuesday.

But to allow yourself to die, hoping that someone has the power to resurrect you, is probably the essence of what we deem faith.

After all, maybe to the angels in heaven, the earth appears to BE an abyss–a deep, dark chasm of misunderstanding. And I guess in some strange way we’re all supposed to die to this life in order to gain new discovery about ourselves and even eternity. But it doesn’t make it any less scary. It doesn’t make it easier to suck your last–trusting that everything’s going to be okay.

People tell me all the time that they’re not afraid to die and they’re “ready to meet Jesus.” I don’t know whether I believe them or not.

I guess I’m ready to meet Jesus, too.  I just wish it was at Starbucks.

Abstract

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abstract: (adj.) existing in thought or as an idea but not having a physical or concrete reality.

Isn’t that religion?

I mean, I’m not trying to be provocative, but I believe that would actually be the definition of a religious experience–something that exists in thought or in belief, with no actual physical manifestation readily available.

People would object to that characterization. They would say that their particular brand of spirituality was ripe with fruitfulness and examples of prosperity. But there are those who would contradict them by saying that the cases they cite could easily be explained by pointing out the individual’s  talent, perseverance or by what some would view as “dumb luck.”

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

In other words, faith is abstract.

And even though “abstract” is considered to be an insult, especially when we sling it at someone else to explain their reasoning powers or value to us, the removal of the abstract is an attempt to live on a diet of mere practicality–things that can be handled, observed or studied. Believe you me, that kind of intake is very similar to attempting to convince yourself that the Caesar salad you had for lunch is great–and JUST as tasty as partaking of the pizza buffet.

Yes, spirituality is the pizza buffet. It is the intake of emotional and eternal calories which plump up our spirits with joy and hope.

That’s why I make a distinction between spirituality and religion. Religion points out how I’m different from the person kneeling next to me. Spirituality reminds me that I’m part of a much larger earth family.

So in a discussion with anyone about the integrity of atheism or agnosticism over believing in an eternal spirit and Creator of us all, those who share a Father in heaven rather than a mere common ooze will always lose out and be accused of being ignorant and believers in fairy tales.

But amazingly enough, when a bomb blows up in Boston or a fertilizer plant explodes in Texas, nobody ever runs to the library to gain greater knowledge. We turn, instead, to the abstract. We bow down and supplicate. We hope, deep inside ourselves, that life has a greater meaning than the mere passage of hours, days, months and years.

I guess some people would insist that in our hour of need, we become more ignorant. I think we just become more thirsty for the power and the comfort … of the abstract.