Circumstance

Circumstance: (n) a condition connected with or relevant to an event or action

“Considering the circumstance…”

Damn it, don’t lie to me. You’re not really going to let me consider my circumstance. You might like to pretend you will, so that I will
consider yours.

The true breath of fresh air which enlivens the human brain is that second place cannot be excused away due to circumstance.

We might get sympathy. Some people might even agree that we got an unfair shake.

But once they walk away from us and talk to others, they will call second place what it is–a loss.

The time to consider circumstance is before an endeavor is begun, not after it’s been anemically performed.

It’s not so much that we love winners as it is that we hate losers.

If someone is able to lose with the understanding that there was a personal deficit, we’re willing to allow them into the competition again to acquire a second chance.

Even Apollo Creed gave Rocky an additional crack at the title, because Rocky did so well the first time and did not pretend he won. (Please forgive the obscure reference to a forty-year-old movie.)

What can I do to convince myself that pleading “circumstance” only makes me look like I’m needy instead of letting people know that I am fully aware that I fell short and am prepared to change things up?

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Brook

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Brook: (n) a small stream

About two miles outside of our little town, my dad bought a piece of land, where he hoped his growing children would be able to escape and get a sense of “farm” and fresh air.Dictionary B

It wasn’t large, and because it wasn’t tended well, it was usually overgrown.

But every once in a while I got an itch to go out and walk through the tall grass to a clearing where there was a high bank surrounding a brook.

The stream was not very impressive–probably about seven feet across at its widest place, and no more than a foot-and-a-half deep.

But it was usually clear–see right to the bottom.

One day I told my dad I was going to go fishing in the brook. He laughed at me, and explained that our little waterway would not sustain fish because there was no place for them to go.

After soaking my worm in the water for about an hour–to no avail–I realized he was right. I was about to give up when I sensed some movement in some nearby rocks.

It was a little fish.

I don’t know how he got there (or if he was a she). But he was obviously trapped, not knowing which way to go. Every time he swam forward he hit a rock, and every time he swam the other way, he bumped his nose on a stone.

He was literally caught between a rock and a hard place.

So for the next hour, I threw my hook and worm near him, hoping to draw the little fishie onto my rod and reel, so I could go back proudly and tell my dad he was wrong.

When the worm didn’t draw the fish’s attention, I attempted to reach in and grab him. He was very athletic and eluded my grasp.

I finally gave up.

I went to tell my dad to come and see the fish that was in our brook. He waited, puttered around, and finally made his way out to view my discovery.

The fish was gone.

I have no idea how that little blue gill figured out a way to escape his prison. But Nature always comes up with a plan.

Fish are not like us.

They don’t get frustrated, mad … and decide to hide out in their room.

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