Tag Archives: parallel

Crescendo

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crescendo: (n) a gradual, steady increase in loudness or force.

I do realize there’s a danger in over-analyzing things. It can become tedious, if not obnoxious. Yet I will tell you—life becomes much simpler when you first realize it’s supposed to be simple, and then you start looking for the parallels that dwell behind every experience and lurk beneath each rock.

Over the years I have played my share of music.

Some people have even accused me of being a musician.

I’ve written songs and I’ve composed about eight symphonies (though Mozart and Beethoven shouldn’t be worried about their day jobs.)

Music has taught me a lot.

That’s not a very profound statement, but once again—simple.

Music knows what the key is meant to be in every situation.

It finds a melody, so some sensibility can be mustered for the hearer.

It certainly acknowledges the need for harmony.

And it has a great desire to strike a chord of commonality among us.

But never does music teach us anything more than it does with the crescendo.

Some people live their lives full out, loud, always punctuating their crescendo to the maximum. Then when they need to say something essential or shout out a truth, no one listens because they are always blaring and trumpeting their feelings.

The wisdom of music is to start your piece quietly and build.

Let’s be honest—if the audience doesn’t want to hear the song or doesn’t prefer the tunefulness of it, playing it more loudly does not achieve much of anything. But if you can acquaint all those around you with a theme they really embrace, by the time you get to the finale, you can generate a crescendo that triumphs the message and the music to the climax.

I used to be of a mindset that the louder I said something, the more emphatic and powerful it became. But I just ended up in a room with a bunch of fellow bellowers, shouting over the top of one another.

I shall never forget the night I was playing a concert, and the band that was on right before our troupe closed out with a screaming anthem, leaving the audience leaping to its feet, applauding wildly.

I realized there was no way to top that, so I looked for a bottom. I took the stage with just my guitarist and sang our sweetest, most childlike ballad. By the time I finished, the attention was mine. If I had desired, I could have manufactured my own crescendo. There was no hurry. It wasn’t a competition.

Turn down the noise.

First in your own mind—your own twitter—and then patiently let it all tone down around you.

Take a deep breath, pick your moment, make sure it’s timely…

CRESCENDO.

 

Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast

Good News and Better News

 

Big Top

Big Top: (n) the main tent in a circus.

Dictionary B

The circus smells like elephant poop.

That’s my main memory from the only time I went there at twelve years of age.

I had this strange sensation of smelling pachyderm droppings while simultaneously eating cotton candy. It was a disturbing mixture.

I was a chubby fellow, so when the clowns came out to perform, one of the jokesters targeted me, using mime to imitate my tubbiness, to the delight of children nearby. Obviously lacking some training in sensitivity, the bozo continued to do so until the laughter subsided.

So to a certain degree, I was very happy when the elephants arrived and I was no longer the largest in the tent.

The circus was impressive.

There were things flying in the air, fire spewing from the mouths of entertainers, and all sorts of horses running in circles with brightly-colored saddles, which were ever-so-faintly fading through years of use.

I worked really hard to be a fan.

I oohed and aahed on cue, making it clear to all my friends around me that I was an appreciator.

But as I left the tent, even though I was just a kid, I sensed that these professionals were working awfully hard to make life fun. Matter of fact, when I hear people draw the parallel that “life is a circus,” I think to myself, no, it’s not.

Actually, our goal is to make sure that life doesn’t become a funeral … by adding just enough clowns, dancing monkeys and corn dogs.

Donate Button

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

Apricot

dictionary with letter A

Apricot: (n): a juicy, small fruit resembling a peach, of an orangy-yellow color.

I do not feel that the apricot has been adequately addressed in any public forum.

It probably could remain so, and the world would continue to revolve and Kentucky Fried Chicken still contain eleven herbs and spices.

But since I have been blessed with the benefit of sharing useless information to very valuable people, I shall elaborate on ny sentiments about this little fruit.

First and foremost, it is a temperamental sort. It has about a fifteen-minute life cycle, when it is sweet enough to eat, and the rest of the time is either too hard or too bitter to undulate on the great dance floor of my mouth.

To determine this, I have denigrated myself to the caveman mentality of “squeezing for freshness.” If I feel, upon palming the item, that the skin of the fruit somehow separates from the meat, then it is possibly ripe enough to eat.

If, upon placing it in my hand, it resembles a golf ball, then I know to put it aside and leave it alone, lest its bitter disposition enter my sanctuary.

The second aspect of the apricot–which I’ve never heard anyone explain–is that even when I do find one ready for consumption, because the skin is a bit tough, or perhaps a touch furry, I feel compelled to use my teeth and tongue to fold it over, so that the fruity side touches my teeth and the skin is tucked inside.

Does anyone else do that besides me? If you don’t, I can recommend it–because then you get the soft, sweet fruit without the tough hide.(Which, by the way, might be an accurate parallel to my relationship with women.)

So I would have to conclude that I am quite fond of apricots, but I do want to make sure that they are adequately ripe and that the skin stays away from setting my teeth on edge.

 

 

Donate Button

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Acknowledge

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAcknowledge: (v) 1.to accept or admit the existence or truth of  2. to recognize the quality of: e.g. the arts community had begun to acknowledge his genius.

It’s not easy.

Often in the process of acknowledging the truth of a subject, we have to admit that we have fallen short of achieving a parallel situation.

It’s why we’re so stingy with our praise. People have to do immensely amazing things to get attention anymore. This causes us to only acknowledge things that are outlandish. And most outlandish things are often detrimental.

So our entertainment is realistic by being dark.

Our politics touts its value by only being adversarial, with no room for compromise.

And our relationships are explosive, portraying the alleged battle between men and women.

If there’s a gauge on our acknowledgment, I think we should turn it UP. I think we should start acknowledging things that aren’t as loud and overwhelming. I think we should allow people who decide to take a quieter path to be appreciated instead of only advertising those individuals who sound their brassy horn to let us know they’re coming through.

What DO I acknowledge?

  1. I acknowledge I’m human and it’s okay.
  2. I acknowledge there’s a God who knows I’m human–and that makes Him okay.
  3. I acknowledge you’re a human made by that God, which also puts you in the okay category.
  4. And finally, I acknowledge that good things deserve more attention than bad things.

That’s about it.

Acknowledging is a great thing if it brings about a sense of edification which exhorts us to higher ideals.

For instance, I know that pigs live in slop. I don’t need to have a movie made about it (no disrespect to the “swine” of the film industry.)

I would welcome a little bit more propaganda about goodness in our world …, so we can acknowledge that life is well worth the living.