Tag Archives: human race

Decree

Decree: (n) a formal and authoritative order

Maybe not formal.

Certainly not overbearingly authoritative.

But it certainly would be nice if one simple thought could permeate the minds and hearts of the human race. It would not be a decree that would solve all the problems, but rather, a climate which fosters the atmosphere for problems to be solved.

Is it too much to ask?

Are we so struck with our own brilliance that we could not faithfully enact a dynamic purpose?

Must everything be our own doing?

Or maybe it has to come from our race. Our religion. Our gender. Or our clan.

Yes, that is our weakness.

We believe we are stronger when we cling to smaller and smaller groups of ourselves and proclaim that particular cloister to be holy.

Meanwhile, to live under a simple decree which births the potential for both creativity and respect for the past seems odd to us, if not evil.

I’m ready.

I am prepared to join with all my brothers and sisters in the human family and agree on something instead of debating everything.

I am weary of promoting my own ideas.

I am aggravated with being fussy.

It’s time for a decree.

I’m certainly willing to consider any thoughts you might like to offer.

But in the meantime, may I present my suggestion?

Like most concepts that would be proffered as universal, it may seem a trifle odd at first, or insufficient.

But let it grow on you.

Let it settle into the middle of your soul and sprout a garden of possibilities.

Here it is—my decree:

“Make it easy.”

Decompress

Decompress: (v) to relax; unwind

When I was nine years old, a friend of mine jammed his finger.

It hurt.

No doubt about that.

But over the next week, through the urging of his mother, the jammed finger went from being a painful incident to a potentially lethal trauma.

Every day when I saw him, he had a new angle on how a jammed finger could lead to some sort of bizarre complication, culminating in a contorted death.

Honestly, I started avoiding him, waiting for his finger to heal, so that he could become normal again.

That has been my inclination with the human race.

Since most people think they have a jammed finger, they are prepared to exaggerate their wounds to make themselves feel more endangered.

Therefore I hate the word “decompress.”

I hear it all the time: “I am under so much pressure that I must get someplace and decompress.”

Really?

I guess I have a different definition for “pressure.”

To me, pressure is when you realize you’re going to die.

And even then, it’s a good idea to get a second opinion.

Everything short of death is problematic—and by problematic, I mean solvable.

I am just completely flummoxed as to why we think our lives are more intriguing when we express levels of breathless desperation.

Why is it more enticing to say, “I don’t think I’m going to make it,” than “I’ve had a bad week.”

Why must we think the world is going to end simply because we can’t find our favorite jar of pickles?

How in the hell important do we think we are?

For the record:

I do not need to decompress.

I do not require escaping somewhere to spend even more time musing over my plight.

I need to expand.

I must be around people who also have problems, and together, we can develop the good cheer of realizing that there doesn’t seem to be anything life has come up with that can destroy us.

If we reach that point, we gain a certain lightness of spirit—an irrepressible joy that makes us love ourselves and valuable to those around us.

Don’t decompress.

Just don’t get yourself in a position where you take things too seriously.

In life there are no dramas—there are just comedies, and sometimes we don’t get the joke.

 

Death

Death: (n) the act of dying; the end of life

Pwanged with a silly stick of maudlin muddling, I will occasionally imagine what the world will be like right after my demise.

That being my death.

When doing so, my eyes quickly fill with tears over how sad I presume others will be over my absence.

And then, without warning, my brain suddenly rights itself, and I realize the past five people I know who have died were afforded about one week of concentrated bereavement.

And then life, wearing very heavy boots, marched on.

I don’t know how it should be.

I don’t know what the correct length of time is to commemorate and memorialize the deeds of another traveler who is leaving because of the absence of breathing possibilities.

But it should be different.

Shouldn’t it?

Even people we regale as “planet changing souls for the ages” only get thirty seconds of silent reflection prior to the opening of Wall Street.

Thirty seconds? Really?

I, of course, understand that there will be spasms of dismay for a length of time over the departure of a fine friend—hopefully including me.

But the audacity of the human race—to think it has the energy and intelligence to proceed without me—is a worrisome, if not tearful, conclusion.

I don’t know what to do about that.

But after careful consideration and pausing to ponder over possibilities, I have decided that my best approach is to get even…

…and stay alive.

Dark Cloud

Dark cloud: (adj) dim, indistinct

It is a perennial favorite to feed a never-ending argument about the value—the realism—of dark entertainment.

One of my grandchildren says she doesn’t want to be known as a “goody two-shoes,” which has set her in motion to watch, read or peruse anything that clouds the mind with darkness.

I fuss with my children over this issue.

I’m just always curious about what I refer to as “the final day.”

I’m not speaking of eternity, or a “Great White Throne Judgment.”

I am referencing the sensations, the regrets, the wonder, the curiosity and the reflections that enter our minds and souls when and if we know we have twenty-four hours to live.

It is often the case that this cushion of preparation is not provided, and we go from breathing to breathless.

But assuming that we had a guaranteed twenty-four-hour period to consider our choices, would there be anyone who wished that he or she had spent more time in the dark clouds?

It may seem noble, or worse, intellectual, to commiserate with the insane or the hopelessly lost.

But what is it they teach us?

Are they a warning for the stupidity of foolish behavior?

Or do they encourage us to loosen up just a bit more, keeping an eye on not going too far?

Yet the human race always goes too far.

I do not need to be surrounded by butterflies.

But I need to at least observe caterpillars, knowing where they are headed.

Dark Ages

Dark Ages: (n) the whole of the Middle Ages, from about a.d. 476 to the Renaissance.

The difference between religion and the secular world is that the secular world scares the shit out of you.

Religion chooses to scare the shit into you.

Recently at a convention, a woman spoke aloud in front of one and all, and proclaimed, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a world where our faith, church and worship of God was in control?”

I held my tongue.

I did real well until I saw her out in the lobby, surrounded by gullible young kids, and repeated her statement.

I quietly stepped in, but resolutely pointed out, “My dear, we already had that opportunity to see what life would be like when God was worshipped and the church was honored.”

“It was called the Dark Ages.”

Much to my surprise, some of the older students started laughing.

She was upset—though I don’t know whether she caught my meaning.

“The Dark Ages” describes a time when the human race selected everything off the menu of possibility that was unnatural or unhealthy.

  • Blind devotion to God.
  • Kings and Queens in charge of lands and castles.
  • The rest of the citizens living as serfs to bless the church and the ruling class.
  • Ignorance promoted as unfaltering faith.
  • And a Bible blindly revered—even though nobody was allowed to read it.

It is easy to imagine a Dark Ages arriving upon us again.

It commences whenever we believe that one human being is better than other human beings and should be followed without question, because the church tells us that he or she is supreme.

And they know this to be true—because “God has ruled it to be so.”

Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

Cross my heart and hope to die: (v) to attest to the truth of something

The human race is known for two things: first, being created in the image of God; and second, being a bunch of goddamn liars.

Within the elevation of these two bracing points, we are suspended between heaven and Earth.

Because of this, when we need to express our deepest sincerity to others, we don’t seem capable of just saying, “Yes, this is true,” or “No, it is not.”

We fear that our human audience, being fully aware of the vicious nature of deceit which inhabits us all, will just naturally assume that we are one of the “Fibber McGees.”

So we have introduced words, like “sincerely, honestly” and “trust me” into our language, hoping that in doing so, the true depth of our veracity will shine through.

It doesn’t.

So over our history, we’ve initiated other thoughts to try to prove that we are on the level. Basically, we’ve started swearing. Not profanity. No—deep-rooted promises to back up our premises.

  • “I swear by my mother’s grave.”
  • “I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles.”
  • “I swear by my pinky finger.”

Or, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

I guess this last one sounded effective to someone, thinking that threatening to remove one’s life from Earth might keep us from lying and cheating.

Of course, in reality, nothing prevents us from stretching the truth until it breaks and falls at our feet like useless trash.

So I think the suggestion that came along—to swear, make huge statements and crossing our heart and hoping to die—should probably just be replaced by a more old-fashioned dodge:

“Now what was the question?”

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

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Critical

Critical: (adj) judging

Two sentences:

  1. I am so good.
  2. I am no good.

Amazing, isn’t it?

Just changing one word in that phrase—from “so” to “no” or from “no” to “so”—renders a completely different conclusion.

It’s where the human race bounces.

Somewhere between so and no, we’re always on a journey to over-exaggerate our value or else proclaim ourselves wormlike.

Matter of fact, if I were to capsulize—perhaps even in a nutshell—what prevents us from becoming nutty is realizing that both profiles are stimulated by a flash-bang of insanity somewhere in the deep regions of our cranium.

No one is SO good.

Even in the midst of excellence, there is error that challenges to increase effort.

And no one is NO good.

Even within those souls we consider worthless, one can find value, even if that one only refers to God.

This is why a nation, or dare I say, a world of critical souls saying critical things to make their critical nature produce critical cynicism, causes the planet to teeter on a critical cliff of danger.

A critical condition.

I don’t agree with the axiom, “if you can’t say something good don’t say anything at all.”

Nor do I assert that everyone who is critical offers something to the “great conversation.”

I have developed a simple procedure in dealing with my fellow humans:

If I view something, hear something, watch something or read something that they have produced and there is nothing at all that I like about it or understand or appreciate or concur with, I remain silent.

Because to be honest, a critical contribution is only valuable if it follows a positive encouragement. If there’s nothing positive to say, being critical places the burden of guilt onto the judge.

In this case, that would be me. I can’t afford the guilt.

If they pursue, and say, “You didn’t have any opinion on the material?” I quickly grab the beauty of the lower seat and reply:

“Sometimes things go over my head.”

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

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Could and Couldn’t

Could: (v) expression of possibility

Couldn’t: (v) unable

I don’t think anybody wants to be negative.

Some folks have just found it a safer position because they have surmised that most things fail. I’m also sure there are individuals who are negative because funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
they want to appear mature and cautious.

But the trouble with the two words, could and couldn’t, is that neither one allows for the possibility that something has a great chance.

Even when we venture out and say, “I could win,” we’re allowing ourselves an awful lot of room for explanation if things fall apart.

And if we go ahead and say, “I couldn’t,” we close the door on the adventure completely.

I think could and couldn’t sum up the human race.

We are never so positive that we move with great confidence, ease and style into resolution, and we certainly seem better suited for retreating or rejecting.

Is there another word?

“Might” doesn’t work. That’s really uncertain.

“Should” seems judgmental.

“Would” sounds like it’s ready to make an immediate excuse upon any drawback.

And there’s just something downright arrogant about saying “I will.” There are too many variables in life that we do not control for us to guarantee the result.

So what is the best situation?

I am certainly tired of living in a world of “could” and “couldn’t.” I don’t want to embrace the negativity that goes into being cautious with “could” and dark with “couldn’t.”

Language trips us up because it describes the actual condition of our internal emotions. Eventually, our tongues will confess what is deeply brewing in our hearts.


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Corroborate

Corroborate: (v) to make more certain; confirm

There are those final moments at the end of a heated argument when two or more people stare at each other, exhausted from trying to outwit one another, realizing that life needs to go on, yet all the debaters are suspicious of exactly how that could happen.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Human beings are the most fragile, yet indestructible, organisms ever conceived.

We can have our bodies shot with radiation to kill cancer.

People have fallen out of fifteen-story windows, landed on cement and survived.

Yet one foolish accusation or ill-placed assumption can render us emotionally paralyzed, unable to continue without years of therapy or medication.

What is it that causes us to believe that disagreements, which are plentiful, are somehow or another insurmountable?

There may be only one thing that aids the survival of the human race: a single action placed at just the right time after we have failed, cursed, stumbled, lied, cheated, argued and even threatened violence. It is the stillness which often comes over the soul and allows a moment of heartfelt reflection.

At this juncture we realize that the best way to confirm what we hope, what we are or what we believe is to stop fussing and go out and find a way to corroborate it.

  • Cease wishing; begin to work.
  • Stop praying and instead, produce.
  • And fail without becoming a failure.Donate Button

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Cordial

Cordial: (adj) courteous and gracious; friendly; warm:

“It doesn’t work! Not nowadays!”

That’s the statement flung in my direction whenever I suggest that kindness, gentleness and being cordial is a viable option to bitterness, strife and animosity.

It seems the entire human race is frightened by the prospect that being merciful is setting them up, like a golf ball on a tee, to be driven far, far away by a funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
smack with a club.

Yet no one sits down and asks the simple question, “What happens when people are no longer intimidated by your bad attitude?”

You may frighten people off by being suspicious, nasty and unfriendly, but eventually, someone will be terror-free, and others will learn to shed their fear of you. Then they will come with torches and pitchforks, to kill the Frankenstein who was so rude to them.

That would be you.

There’s one thing for certain—no one has to go to bed nervous, asking him or herself, “Is my cordial attitude going to backfire on me?”

There’s a peace that follows being peaceful.

There’s a blessedness attached to being a peace-maker.

It is so precious that people will begin to believe that you’re a child of God.

The bravest thing you can ever do in your life is to refuse to fight, argue, attack and brutalize another human being. The risk is that they will still turn on you and destroy you while you stand there, helpless.

But there is the possibility that your unwillingness to draw blood in conflict with them will at least give them pause.

If you refuse to join the battle, any further attack makes them murderers if they kill you, not warriors.

Cordial people survive to have great-grandchildren and write the history books about those they out-loved.


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