Dealt

Dealt: (v) the result of an action of what was distributed or apportioned

Prostrate on the floor, short moments after tipping on my walker and falling, I was suddenly accosted with the reality of trying to get up.

I thought about all the times that people had joked, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up…”

Every time I saw one of those commercials, I was cynical, not believing there could be a situation where a human would be unable to, as they say, rise to the occasion.

I was not injured.

I was just in a predicament where the assets available to me—the lack of strength in my upper body and the faltering of my legs, were threatening to hold me in my original splat.

I was not angry. I was not upset.

Dripping with sweat, I continued to try to disprove what my brain had already explained to me as my reality.

“You will need help.”

For today, this was what I was dealt.

I was moving along with my walker, on my way to my music room to write to you and to compose my thoughts for the day.

Then I wasn’t.

Normalcy was gone. For the first time in a long time, the weaker portions of my human existence had taken over, demanding attention and insisting on leaving me vulnerable.

I tried for half an hour.

Candidly, the attempts to lift myself and eliminate the problem were much more painful than the fall.

Those beautiful souls who are my family stood by, not knowing what to do, perhaps full of ideas, but intelligent enough not to turn the project into a committee effort.

This is my status:

  • Life gave me a brain—I developed the ability to write.
  • I persisted in singing until it was stageable.
  • I played piano.
  • I wrote symphonies.
  • I penned thirteen independent movies.

I can’t get up off the floor.

Today, this was included.

Not despaired nor frustrated–more curious how this tale would unfold, and where there would be a happy end.

After tossing it around in my mind from one brain cell to another, I finally surrendered to the need for outside help.

We called the fire department and in less than five minutes, four eager, young, willing, kind, docile and caring young men walked through the door.

It took about five minutes and they had me standing back on my feet and then sitting in my wheelchair.

I bypassed embarrassment and went to gratitude.

I kicked discouragement out the door and embraced humor.

There was a moment in the room when achievement was celebrated, and we all felt better for being part of a winning cause.

You can spend your life hoping for better cards.

Or you can work with what you’ve been dealt.

Bittersweet

Bittersweet: (adj) sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

Dictionary B

There is a reality that follows every miracle.

A “morning after” to each and every excitement.

An epilogue to a happy ending.

There is an unwelcome balance in life which often tries to cloud the beauty of a single giddy moment with an overall coloration of gray.

It’s why the human race–through blessed by sunshine–still curses the rain. It just doesn’t seem to be even.

So we naturally begin to focus on problems. We worry. We conjure additional sadness, awaiting the next conflict.

This is why, whether you are in China, England, Japan, or the United States, you will meet human beings who are tinged with a little despair, waiting for the present flickering flame of joy to be blown out by a new foul wind of difficulty.

So is it mature to be cautious, since at any moment our sense of satisfaction can be dampened? Or is there a certain charm in ignoring the tribulation and instead, mustering a determined good cheer?

It is bittersweet

People will argue this until the day they die.

It is at that juncture that most of us hope we are wrong … that there really is a happy ending.

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Actor

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

 

Actor: (n) a person whose profession is acting on the stage, in movies or on television.

 

 We sure spend an awful lot of time, money and energy honoring those who portray characters in the film industry. Yet at the same time we pretend that acting—or trying to be something we’re not—is a bad thing in real life.

 

I will tell you this right now: I would much rather people become excellent actors, treating me with love and respect, instead of becoming so comfortable around me that I get the brunt of their bad mood.

 

Over the years as I’ve traveled, I have gotten to know some families, spending time in their homes, and after a while they start arguing in front of me and cease to treat me as a guest. When I ask them about it, they insist that this is their way of accepting me as “kin”—abandoning any need for hospitality.

 

My response is always the same: Let’s go back to when you didn’t know me and felt compelled to be nice.

 

I am tired of reality as a whole, even if it’s a show, if it means that we’re going to unleash our darker sides on one another and spit forth our meaningless opinions at will.

 

I suppose I would aggravate some people because I do believe my life is a stage. I think it’s important to learn the right lines, pursue plots and stories that are enriching instead of bizarre and twisted, and try to come to a conclusion at the end of every day which somehow or another resembles a happy ending.

 

I think it’s important to be an actor.

 

I think it’s essential that we stop making fun of things that are good, kind, pure and gentle in favor of grumbling dissatisfaction.

 

Matter of fact, I will go so far as to say that if we don’t start making the movie of our lives that is suitable for all audiences, we will end up rating ourselves R to simulate the truthfulness of our each and every frustration festering inside of us, not providing a pleasant theater experience.

 

So if I want to say “damn,” you don’t really deserve that. It won’t hurt me to temper it to “darn.”

 

If I’m disappointed over losing my job, I shouldn’t impale you with my cynicism, but instead, find a quiet place with myself, my experiences, and God–to become people-worthy before joining the human race again.

 

Yes, all the world is a stage, and honestly, sometimes we’re just roadies and not actors in front of the crowd. But while we’re backstage, learning how to work the lights, we might want to work on our mood, so that when we find ourselves under the key light,  we can bring positive energy … instead of defeat.