Tag Archives: journey

Bazaar

Bazaar: (n) a market in a Middle Eastern country.Dictionary B

I often comfort myself with the knowledge that if I didn’t do dumb things, I wouldn’t have great stories to tell.

So a certain amount of imperfection, idiocy and clumsiness is necessary to fall under the classification of “a good writer.” (At least, that’s my take and I’m stickin’ with it.)

Many years ago, I traveled to Haiti, and being a novice at such a journey, I didn’t take enough money. After I paid all the taxes, tariffs and incidentals, I ended up with 72 cents in loose change to last me for two weeks.

My lodging was covered and so were my meals, but I didn’t have any personal money.

One of my guides on suggested that we go to the local street market, or bazaar, to see what the Haitians had put together through their creativity.

I don’t know why, but it didn’t even occur to me that these artisans might just want to sell their wares to hapless Americans. I wasn’t in the bazaar for more than thirty seconds before I was completely surrounded by determined individuals trying to sell me what they had built, cooked or grown.

The stuff was beautiful.

They were great salespeople.

But you see–I only had 72 cents.

To the average Haitian, any white man from America is independently wealthy and probably arrived on their shores in a yacht.

So using a word of Creole here and there, I tried to explain that I had no money. This only encouraged them to sell harder, assuming that they were just one catch-phrase away from garnering my business.

They also kept dropping their prices.

Finally, after about five or six arduous minutes of grueling exchange, I pulled out fifty cents and bought a lovely, carved statue. The person who did the work probably took at least four hours to make it, and I felt like a real jerk.

But they were delighted to get the fifty cents, and I intelligently escaped quickly out the back exit from my experience … at the bizarre bazaar,

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Battle

Battle: (n) a sustained fight between large, organized armed forces.Dictionary B

I think I have a new favorite stupid statement–even though I must admit that “favorite stupid statement” may be an oxymoron.

Nevertheless, I, for one, am tired of hearing people say, “I pick my battles.”

What an audaciously ridiculous notion. It’s really just an excuse for prefacing our cowardice.

In other words, “I have no intention of displaying a backbone in this situation. I have only a certain number of battles I can wage, and this is not going to be one of them.”

Let me make it clear that throughout my journey, I have never seen the time when I could pick my battles.

My battles are laid out in front of me, and I can either choose to fight them, or run away and pretend like I’m looking for “higher ground.”

“I pick my battles” is the phrase that kept stupidity alive in our country, prejudice in full force, bigotry operating successfully and talent relegated to the back row.

We don’t pick our battles.

The battles exist.

And we can choose to either participate, or be part of the people who pretended to march on the side of righteousness or who insist that if it ever happens again, they will be in the front lines.

 

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Awry

Awry: (adj & adv) away from the planned or expected course; amiss.

What we all are trying to avoid in our journey is the sensation of disappointment.dictionary with letter A

We can survive tragedy, mayhem, struggle, poverty and anything that falls from the sky as long as we did not have great expectation that it would ever happen.

Even though I know it is popular to have big dreams, huge goals, and make presumptuous statements about the success of our lives, nothing could be any more detrimental to us than to look at what has happened to us, assume that everything went totally awry, and for us to sit in a huge puddle of muddy disappointment.

So what’s the key? How can we avoid disappointment, which cripples our faith?

  1. Don’t have a goal–have a direction.

As you head off in that direction, goals will pop up which you can pursue. But when you assume that your goal has to be achieved, Mother Nature will be more than happy to pour water on your fire.

  1. Have at least three plans.

In other words, if this works, I can do this. But if I get this opportunity, then I can achieve this level. And if it all comes in, by the grace of God, we get the whole enchilada with cheese sauce.

  1. Keep in mind, mankind is watching.

More opportunities will come your way if you’re a good loser. Even though we insist that we admire the winner, we spend a lot of time watching the “trailers,” and what they do next.

  1. And finally, be grateful.

I know it sounds silly to be grateful for a fiasco or when your plans go awry, but most of the things in our lives which we now possess did not come to us as a whole.

They arrived in pieces and we puzzled them together.

Life by its very purpose is intended to create a situation where “the greatest laid plans of mice and men” go awry.

Mice run and hide in embarrassment.

But intelligent humans look for a way to use the surprises to create new dreams.

 

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Aquiline

dictionary with letter A

Aquiline: (adj) like an eagle, esp. referring to the nose. EX: “hooked like an eagle’s beak.”

It arrives at about age twelve, and hopefully, by the grace of God, disappears on one’s eighteenth birthday. Honestly, it will not disappear if we allow its friends to come and shack up.

“It” is insecurity.

When I was twelve years old, I was convinced of the following:

I believed my nose was aquiline because my dad was German and had a hooked nose. I failed to realize that my mother’s genes were also in there, so my hook was not as pronounced. (I once referred to my nose as a “hooker” until my Aunt Minnie explained that the term was inappropriate.)

I also believed that my lips were very large and that I possibly was the love child of my mother with a black man. (There was no basis for this since there were no black people within thirty miles of our community. But I chose to believe my mother had made some sort of journey.)

I also thought my eyes were crooked, and began to tilt my head to the left to compensate for the poor horizon of my peepers.

Keeping up this craziness was the notion that my B were “pinned to my head,” which I assumed was the sign of some sort of mental retardation.

Moving along, I totally was possessed with the frustration that I had horribly chubby cheeks, so I tried to elongate my face by holding my mouth in the shape of a small “O” all the time.

This insecurity is present in all adolescents, and is only dangerous if it’s allowed to link up with intensity, culminating in a bit of insanity, which in adulthood can lead to plastic surgery, therapy sessions and late-night heart-wrenching honesty with your mate, drenched in tears.

I know we think the answer to this question is to convince people that “we are all beautiful just the way we are.”

But since none of us really believe that deep in our hearts, wouldn’t it be more logical for us to come to the conclusion that we’re all ugly in our own way?

 

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Apprehension

dictionary with letter A

Ap·pre·hen·sion (n): 1. anxiety or fear that something bad or unpleasant will happen.

A pall in the room.

This is what I created the other night when I casually mentioned that I was diabetic.

Some faces reflected horror; others, pity. But the general disposition of those gathered was that they would have to sit back and listen to a litany of my sad tale or a description of my medications and treatment.

I surprised them because I just don’t do that.

But rather than appreciating the fact that I did not bore them with the elements of my constitution, they looked on me with a bit of dismay. I think they found be blithe.

Yes, if any word has been thrown my way as an insult, it would be blithe and all of its friendly synonyms.

  • “Silly.”
  • “Not careful enough.”
  • “Short-sighted.”
  • “Immature.”
  • “Naive.”
  • “Overly optimistic.”
  • Or even occasionally, “Ignorant.”

But I do not find blithe to be the absence of awareness, but rather, the negating of apprehension.

Case in point: when my doctor told me I had diabetes, I deadpanned in his direction: “Well, now I know what’s gonna kill me.”

He paused, looking into my eyes to see if I was serious, and when I twinkled his way, he laughed. He also spent the next two hours explaining the rigors of my situation and the care I needed to give myself.

I don’t mind giving myself attention–as long as it’s half of what I give to others.

Apprehension has never made my journey sweeter or improved my situation. Matter of fact, it tends to do the opposite.

So if I were to be accused of anything, and I certainly will be, “blithe” would be my preference.

Because the power of living a life which “takes no thought” for certain matters is the realization that my thinking does not always produce positive energy and often fails to even release the serotonin that could make my thinking better.

Do I have apprehensions? Yes.

But I would consider them to be pesky mice in my house … instead of pet hamsters in cages.

 

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Appraise

dictionary with letter A

Ap·praise:(v)assess the value or quality of.

I was nineteen years old and I had a great idea–at least, I thought it was a great idea.

My mother and father ran a loan company in our little town and in the basement of the structure, there were slabs of marble used for flooring and trimming. Apparently they were left over from when the building was constructed and placed down there because no one knew what to do with them.

The marble was beautiful, but terribly heavy.

My wife and I decided to bring up five huge pieces–because we knew they had to be worth a lot of money. As a matter of fact, we confirmed this by calling a local store which dealt in such commodities and asking what these units were worth.

Our minds were boggled by how expensive marble was, so we figured we would bring up five slabs, and probably take care of our budget for the next six months. Who knows? Maybe a year.

We didn’t think of getting them appraised before making the arduous journey of carrying them upstairs. So much to our chagrin, even though the marble pieces were very expensive at one time, somebody had determined that this particular design was outdated.

We even carried one of them across town to an actual dealer, who agreed that it was quite lovely, but that he had no use for it. When I complained, stating that the marble was just as valuable as it once was, he replied, “It’s not what the marble’s worth. It’s what people will pay for it.”

I never forgot that.

Without becoming too philosophical, let me say that we live in an age when we appraise human value, human life and even human interaction as priceless.

Yet when it comes right down to it, what are we really willing to pay to see other people secure, content, safe and happy?

It’s all too cheap.

And I would like to be part of a movement that reappraises human beings from conception to death with a more realistic price tag, which could actually be followed up with legitimate concern.

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Apportion

dictionary with letter A

Ap·portion: (v): to divide and allocate

I have a son who is always critical of me because he feels that I do not collaborate enough with others.

Since he wasn’t here for the majority of my life and I am not going to bore him with details, I choose to allow him to pursue whatever thought process he desires.

But I will tell you about my collaborations.

If everybody in the world would understand that we put a piece in the puzzle and at the end, we celebrate the puzzle instead of continually pointing out our piece within, it would be absolutely magnificent to be involved in a group project with a common result. Matter of fact, I have often collaborated with individuals, to allow my apportion to be absorbed and dissolved into the general good, knowing deep in my heart I was part of something grand and glorious.

Perhaps that’s the best way to describe the mission I have chosen for my life.

I am disgusted with religion, find atheism to be hilarious and am truly apolitical. Yet at the same time, I have some talents, abilities and energy that I can contribute to the cause.

The spotlight has often failed to find me in the crowd, and I have only had the satisfaction of involvement as my warmth and comfort.

  • But I have seen change.
  • I have been part of the change.
  • And I have great confidence in knowing that my apportion to the general welfare was offered freely, willingly and joyously.

I would really love to collaborate more with others if, when the project was done, the individuals would not point out how their part in the endeavor “was the most essential to the quality.”

Yes, to find an apportion, one must first discover the dangers of ego gone rogue, and insecurity unchecked.

 

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Answer

dictionary with letter A

Answer: (n) 1. a response to a question. 2. a solution to a problem or dilemma.

“I want answers.”

I’ve said it. And I have certainly heard it fall from the lips of friends and human beings passing before me.

It sounds noble, doesn’t it?

I’ve even made the mistake of trying to provide some insight or guidance to those who have proclaimed they require wisdom.

Yet I’m careful not to speak on things I haven’t experienced myself. As tempted as we are to pass on stories we have read on the Internet, they could be fostered by fools like me.

But now, since I have a bit of dust on my chaps from the journey, I pause when people ask for answers, and wait to see what follows.

It usually comes in one of three forms:

  1. “We want answers because we sure don’t think this is going to work.”
  2. “We want answers because the ones that have been provided for us are not very pleasant.”
  3. “We want answers because we want to be the first ones to come up with the answer.”

As you can see:

  • #1 is already discouraged.
  • #2 is pissed off.
  • And #3 is driving a huge Cadillac of ego.

So what am I listening for? What would I like to hear in my own inner voice?

“I want answers and I’m willing to be wrong and even learn something new to get them.”

Because let’s be candid with one another–if what we’re doing isn’t working, it probably won’t work any better if we polish it up. Something has to change.

Politics won’t improve until it ceases to be a party contest. Religion must find a balance between the depravity of man and the all-blessed goodness of humans. And entertainment must consider the responsibility to inspire and not just alarm.

So I ask myself, do I want answers?

On some things.

On others … I need time to shed my stupidity.

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Anomymous

dictionary with letter A

Anonymous: (adj) a person not identified by name; unknown name.

Sometimes I stumble across an adage or poem that is particularly clever, insightful or even artistic, and at the bottom is the word “anonymous.”

Obviously, it’s not.

  • Somebody wrote it.
  • Somebody thought it.
  • Somebody did it.

Yet over the years, a strange transition has occurred.

Here’s my opinion on that process: some person without an agent or an ego came up with an idea which he or she shared freely among friends.

One of those people realizes how obscure their companion is and feels compelled, on a journey to a far-away city, to share the inspiration. They are surprised at how responsive everyone is to the piece, and initially give credit to the friend who spoke it.

But then they think to themselves that since this buddy is never going to actually be in this far-away city, what would be the harm in taking bows for the composition?

Likewise, someone else in the room, who travels even further, decides to repeat the same process, stealing the thunder from the thief.

After a while, at a huge party somewhere far away, three or four people hear these words, and attribute it to several different individuals, generating an atmosphere of confusion.

Since no one is certain any longer who actually came up with the idea, it is determined to call it a draw and attribute it to Mr. or Mrs. Anonymous.

It also occurs in our everyday life in America. We have a nation of laws, regulations and general compliance within the citizenry, and believe that this temperate climate is achieved by human effort, never giving any credit to the spiritual training and the moral grounding that has been infused over generations.

We choose instead to attribute to religion or politics, and everything good is a by-product of our thinking or the latest craze.

In case you didn’t know, loving your neighbor as yourself is not anonymous.

If you weren’t aware, telling the truth did not spring from nothing.

Sometimes it’s a good idea to trace back great notions to their source, and therefore sit at the feet of wisdom instead of crinkling your brow … and pretending that the power that makes life work springs from magical four-leaf clovers.

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Angelou, Maya

dictionary with letter A

Angelou, Maya: (1928-2014): a U.S. novelist and poet, who wrote the autobiography, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” recounting her harrowing experiences as a black child in the American south.

When Ms. Angelou died recently, I was curious about how the press would discuss her journey.

Let’s be honest–it’s what we do. We characterize human beings into such small compartments that it is difficult for them to be contained without busting out the sides.

Here is what I discovered: most of the reports focused on some aspect of her race, her experiences within the realm of her color, or her writings about the subject. It will be many generations before we’re able to escape the statement, “She was black.”

The next popular phrase used for her was “ground-breaking.”

Often I think we fail to understand that breaking ground means that the earth has gone fallow, failing to grow anything, and that someone needs to take a shovel to the crusty surface and risk looking like a fool for pursuing hope in the desert.

Even though we laud her efforts, we must realize that she spent the majority of her life subjugated by a society that found her inferior by hue, even though she was able to intellectually surpass all the hum of their activity.

In third place was an appreciation for her art.

I suppose it might have taken a primal position had it not been for an ongoing, quiet racism that whispers in corners of the secrecy of our private moments.

I personally remember her as a soft-spoken, gentle woman with a bit of edge, who tried to explain the confusion around her using more beautiful language than it perhaps deserves.

I recall her debating a rap artist and telling the young man that using dark or evil language was like pouring poison into the world. She said, “Poison is always poison.”

The young rapper was very respectful but unmoved. For after all, one man’s poison is another man’s medicine, and all the cures we have for ailments, left to themselves or taken in excess, are deadly.

She was a tender, simple woman of craft who believed there was still much to be done, carried the scars of her upbringing and yearned for a more peaceful place.

It is a great comfort to me that she has found that home.

It is a great curiosity to me that perhaps in the future, people like Maya can be known for what they say … instead of what color they appear to be.

 

 

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