Counseling

Counseling: (n) professional guidance in resolving personal conflicts and emotional problems.

I certainly understand why people are leery of counsel. I completely comprehend why entering a counseling session could be terrifying.

Because as horrific as it may be to consider following an errant path, having one chosen for you and then failing would certainly place a root of bitterness deep in your soul, which could be very difficult to extract.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Stated bluntly, if I’m going to end up screwed, I’d like to be the driver.

For true counseling has nothing to do with guidance or instruction. Any person who desires to give counsel to another human being must understand that since God has no intention of removing free will from any son or daughter of Adam and Eve, it is therefore not the job of the inspirer to rob someone of his or her own fragile, but necessary, power of decision.

What is good counseling?

  1. Clarify all the crap, trash, fears, insecurities and prejudices and help individuals discover what really surrounds them.

Most people don’t die in battle. They pass away from suffocation, because that which could have aided them crushes them. A good counselor literally clears the air and allows a friend to see exactly what of the dilemma is real and what is trying to haunt the darkness.

  1. Long before answers arrive, questions must be taught politeness. They need to be arranged by importance and dealt with respectively within that lineup. The counselor helps someone to find the right questions and then place them in a pecking order.

After these two things are achieved, the counselor listens, only steering when a cliff is in sight.

If you want to call that “professional guidance,” then you would be correct.

But what I believe it to be is a calm reshuffling of availability.


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Condom

Condom: (n) a thin rubber sheath worn on a man’s penis during sexual intercourse

Sometimes I scold myself for being too candid about my life. There are even family members who think I should spare the public the vivid details of my inanity. But I find that you can never truly achieve heaven until you can say “what the hell?”

I have attempted to use a condom ONCE. (Maybe that’s why I have so many children. I’m thinking there’s a connection somewhere, but shall funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
not waste your time searching for it.)

I had no instructor on how to place it on my device. I’m sure I did it wrong.

It immediately created two battles: (a) staying on, and (b) me remaining erect enough to grant it a home.

It slipped and slid and I ended up reaching down in the fury and passion of pleasure and ripping it off, finishing ala naturale.

I do understand–this is way too much information. But if I haven’t lost you by now, let me conclude with this thought:

I do not offer my story of the condom because I am suggesting they are worthless, meaningless or should not be applied.

As always, I am poking fun at my fun-poker.

 

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Archer

dictionary with letter A

Archer: (n) a person who shoots with a bow and arrows, especially at a target for sport.

When I was growing up, the pursuit of sports in my home was very seasonal–not in the sense of baseball in the summer and football in the fall, but rather, attention span.

My father and brothers developed interests in activities, and always would find a “good deal” on equipment relating to this endeavor, which they would purchase, only to discover that the materials were inferior, which made it impossible to adequately perform the task.

  • We bought a canoe that leaked.
  • We had some water skis that were cracked and fell apart the first time someone got on them in the water.
  • We had a basketball hoop that was supposed to be easy to set up in your driveway which never got higher than four feet.

Likewise, while watching Robin Hood one day on the television set, my older brother wanted to purchase a bow and arrows. My father thought it was “a champion idea.”

So with no understanding whatsoever of archery, they set out to the local hardware store, where the proprietor sold them one of his old bows and six arrows for “a really good deal.”

Without exaggerating, I will tell you that it took them two weeks to learn how to string the bow. The amount of energy it took to bend the bow for stringing nearly crippled their comprehension. The power required to pull the bow back, to shoot the arrow even two feet, was also extraordinarily daunting.

But after a couple of months, they convinced themselves they were experts on the subject and took me out to the woods to try my hand at shooting at a target.

I hated it immediately.

It took too much energy to pull the string, and because the bow was bent from the numerous attempts to manipulate it to our will, the arrows flew crooked, more resembling boomerangs.

After about the sixth attempt, they were ready to have a competition, to see who could hit the target the most often.

My dad stood ten feet to the side, away from the target, so he could give instruction to my brother and myself to make the competition more interesting.

I pulled back the bow and was ready to shoot it when my dad piped up and said, “No, Jonathan! Use more of your thumb!”

Not understanding what he said, I turned towards him in order to be respectful to his instruction, and as I did I slipped and released the arrow, which flew through the air, knocking his hat off.

It was William Tell without the apple.

My dad never said anything about it, but we quickly packed up the gear and it was stored from that point on, in the garage … next to the half-water ski.

 

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