Crypto

Crypto: (adj) secret or hidden, as in “a crypto Nazi.”

 What a cool word.

Of course, I’ll never be able to use it. If I applied it in an everyday situation, people would say, “What do you mean by that?”

Then I’d find myself in that state of trying to explain something, defending myself on why I decided to use it. No thanks.

But for the sake of this article, I will tell you that I do believe in Jesus, but I am a crypto Christian.

No one could be more reluctant than I am to admit to being a part of such a disorganized organization, and unloving ministry of love.

I guess I’m a crypto male, too.

I just don’t buy into all the myths about the human penis, domination, superiority and winning the dame by flattering the hell out of her.

Some people might consider me a crypto American because I don’t join a political party. I learned a long time ago to never go to a party that doesn’t serve refreshments.

In some ways I’m a crypto writer. It doesn’t mean I can’t write. It means that I find the snotty, bratty people who edit and publish to be restricting—kind of like that suit I bought when I was twenty-five, which I really liked but was two sizes too small so I never got a chance to button it.

But I will never admit to being a crypto human.

Religion wants to make humans faltering sinners. Secularists want to make them individualistic gods.

I know what it means to be a human.

It means discovering your weaknesses but working through them to discover your strengths.

 

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Cruller

Cruller: (n) a rich, light cake cut from a rolled dough and deep-fried

Now I understand.

It’s taken me a while.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been in fits of denial, or even rebellion.

Perhaps I was temporarily stuck in the foolishness of, “It’s not fair.”

But I’ve been worn down. I have survived frazzled and become limp in my comprehension.

To live long, you must hate things.

It’s true. Don’t try to disagree with me.

I remember the first time I put a piece of fried bologna in my mouth.

I thought to myself:

“Yes. This is what God is like.”

But before I could even get it down my throat to land in my gullet, somebody nearby asked the two deadly questions:

“Do you know how many calories are in that?”

“Did you know they make it out of pig snouts?”

Either though neither question would truly deter me from eating fried bologna again, I realized that if I wanted to live on Planet Sensitive, Earth Mother Eat Your Vegetables, or the Third Planet from the Fun, I would have to learn to hate things that were certainly did not deserve my disdain.

Unfortunately the list just keeps growing.

Today, when the word “cruller” came up, I realized it has been many years since I’ve had one.

And they have them just down the street. But I have succeeded in avoiding them—believing them to be tasty, quick death.

But just hearing the word tore down all my defenses, shattered my prejudice and made me want to get in my car and go buy one.

What harm could one do?

Well, one atomic bomb can kill a hundred thousand people.

One bullet in your brain will leave you thoughtless.

And I’m told that one cruller can rob days, maybe weeks, from my journey.

Are we really lengthening our lives for a joyful purpose–or just adding days, focusing our souls to hate things that really, really deserve our love?

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Crown

Crown: (n) headgear worn by a monarch

Waking up feeling refreshed.

Biting into a shrimp and getting that immediate aftertaste which lets you know it’s a shrimp instead of some sort of fish.

A chocolate milkshake after you haven’t had one for a decade.

Buying a candy bar at the grocery store and realizing it’s fresh, so your teeth won’t have to break through a crust that’s like the surface of the moon.

The two, sometimes five, seconds that occur, transforming your body into a tingling mass of jiggling gelatin right at the point of orgasm.

Praying and knowing that even if the heavens didn’t hear, you heard, and feel enriched.

Seeing a mile marker on a long trip, delighted to discover you’re closer to home than you thought.

When the scrambled eggs come out just right.

Those occasions when a conversation could have been a fight but instead became an open door to deeper feelings.

Being loved.  Loving.

Catching yourself being unloving just in time.

Letting someone in front of you in traffic and getting honked at by the guy behind you.

Sometimes I just think about all the good things that happen in life.

To do this adequately, I must first sit down, turn off the television and close out my surroundings, and tune out the “fret mode” of my brain.

When I do this, I am filled with some sort of spirit, be it Holy or other.

It is the best feeling in the world. It makes me wonder why those who wrote the Bible thought it was necessary to promise heaven as a place where we will receive our crown and reward.

I don’t need a crown.

I’m not a king. And even if I were a king, I would pass on the crown.

There are just too many crowning events in life to ever require additional honor.

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Crop Rotation

Crop rotation: (n) the system of varying the planting of successive crops

Sometimes I’m a bit saddened when a good idea sprouts to the surface.

It’s similar to when early farmers planted crops and the bounty was so immense that they planted them over and over and over again—until all the nutrients were drained from the soil and the returns became less and less and less.

Finally, someone realized that if they planted different crops for a while, they could come back and plant the original crop again and get fruitfulness from all.

In our day, a good idea will come along—shall we say, a fresh crop—and because it worked so well or was received with joy, it’s planted over and over again, until eventually it is so common that the impact it once had is gone.

It’s a little procedure that runs like this:

  1. The arrival of the great idea.
  2. The mass production by the imitators.
  3. The deterioration of the idea as the cheapskates come along and debilitate it.
  4. The cynics who mock the copycats, making us believe there was never a good idea in the first place.

Rotate your crops.

If something great happens, don’t assume it’s going to happen again. Isn’t that why we call it great—because it doesn’t happen all the time?

In the process of rotating your crops, you won’t get tired of corn because soybeans will need to be sold.

Likewise, you won’t get tired of love because it’s so plentiful.

America is a great idea. It’s not worn out.

But it would benefit us to rotate fresh concepts into our lives—so the beautiful topsoil of freedom can have a chance to build itself back up with the nutrients that truly do enable us able to say, “Hat’s off. This is great.”

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Cowrite

Cowrite: (v) to co-author

Inspired.

Divinely inspired.

I don’t have a problem with either of these thoughts.

I’ve been inspired. I will even be so bold as to claim having been divinely inspired (if by divinity you include science, life, nature, humanity and breathing.)

Yet, I have a problem believing that something ever written by a mortal hand is minus all the twitches and nervous energy associated with that being.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Therefore, when you tell me that God wrote something, I become skeptical. My understanding of our Creator is that He is much more involved in the visual media of sunrises, sunsets, stars, planets, galaxies—and the universe, for that matter.

For any writer will tell you that the most dangerous thing to do is try to place truth in stone when your own mortality limits the comprehension of truth.

I fully understand that all those who ever wrote a “holy book” believed, in the moment, that their hand was overtaken by a divine spirit which urged them to convey the ideas.

But time marches on. What we believed to be true yesterday is not quite the same today.

And the search for “universal truth” really does not take us through volumes and volumes of thoughts and reflections, but rather, to the doorstep of a single emotion: love.

Maybe this is why a fisherman and cowriter once scrawled, “God is love.”


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Correction

Correction: (n) punishment intended to reform, improve, or rehabilitate; chastisement; reproof.

Perhaps there is only one standard for evaluating quality in a human being.

Smiles are too easy—especially on a frowny day.

Prayers can be memorized.

Political promises, forgotten.

Wedding vows dimmed by passing time.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Devotion—merely an emotion.

Faith overwhelmed by doubt.

Love choked by jealousy.

There are moments when human beings appear to be worthy of the brain that finds home in our skull and the spirit that was breathed into us by the Divine. Then disappointment turns us into our darker selves and we reveal just how childish our inner children truly are.

But there is one way to tell if someone has weighed the values of life and discovered what is gold.

Correction.

Yes, what am I going to do when it is necessary for me to receive correction?

Because it will happen.

Not only are we imperfect, but we are also capable of practicing to perfection and because of fear and intimidation, performing ineptly.

Correction is necessary.

Correction is what allows us to do what the animals are incapable of achieving—repent and learn.

How do we handle correction?

Do we become resentful?

Do we become defensive and start explaining how we are misunderstood?

Do we point fingers and blame others for the shortcoming?

Do we lie in an attempt to create a different history?

Do we pretend we don’t hear?

Or do we hear and go out and pretend it doesn’t matter?

Correction is mandatory.

Correction is less painful when it’s received in silence, and the corrector doesn’t feel the need to pound home the point.

I am human—I hate correction.

I hate it so much that when it comes my way, I listen very intently, to make sure I absorb the truth that will protect me from being corrected in the same way ever again.


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Corollary

Corollary: (n) an immediate consequence or easily drawn conclusion.

Although it is not simple to explain to a six-year-old, nevertheless it still needs to be taught.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I had to instruct all of my children in a simple principle:

If you lie to me, we’ve got nothing—no relationship, no interaction, no possibility, no way of drawing close to each other.

Because lying comes with a corollary.

If my children lied to me, they were telling me they did not believe that truth would give them standing—even though I told them that no matter how bad they may think the truth might be, it was never as evil as the tiniest lie. And if they lied to me, they were saying they did not believe the truth could be heard and that they would still be able to continue being loved and appreciated.

Once they showed me they didn’t care about the truth, I knew they didn’t care about my feelings. Without the truth, I have no way to measure the depth and breadth of my relationship with anyone.

Once they created the corollary that they didn’t care about my feelings, they were making it obvious that their pride was more important than our relationship. You can see—it’s difficult to continue a friendship at that point.

Since their pride was more important, the only thing left for me was to leave them to their pride without my respect, trust and affection.

We create corollaries every day.

We make exchanges.

We explain through our actions not just what we think of a certain situation, but what we think about one another.

And even though we all would like to live in a vacuum, inside a bubble where we would be free of commitment, criticism and responsibility, no such world exists.

We have this world—where the truth does make us free—because suddenly we are liberated from all condemnation, incrimination, scrutiny and most importantly, no longer in fear of being doubted.


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