Tag Archives: passion

Ad

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

Ad: (n) an advertisement

dictionary with letter A

Sometimes it’s the way people choose to insult you.

If you’re promoting an idea, a product, or some particular outgrowth of your own efforts, they will accuse you of “advertising.”

Matter of fact, even though we are all basically slaves to the system, we simultaneously insist that we HATE ads. We’ll even try to edit them out of our television programs, and therefore insist upon our independence from such interference. But if we were really all that turned off by ads, Madison Avenue would certainly pick up on our distaste and stop making them.

Are there things that are worth advertising? Because quite honestly, I will put an ad out to the world if I believe in something. I’m not tight-lipped about it at all.

I only require three contingencies to stimulate my passion:

1. It needs to work. I would never want to promote something that was intermittent or just flat-out fails to deliver its promises. That’s the danger of both religion and politics–their adherents have secretly become unbelievers. So the followers are like an old rocker, traveling around from one concert to another in an old beat-up van, peddling t-shirts, who no longer believes in his own slogans.

2. It should make things easier, not harder. Even though I do not think laziness is a virtue, I think over-working is a much worse vice. If you want to improve the world, make a better mouse that doesn’t need to be trapped.

3. It needs to include everybody. I know there are products, ideas and even philosophies which seem to focus on a particular age group. Maybe this is necessary. But I find the greatest value of an idea is how well it can be applied across the board–to all races, genders, ages, creeds, and orientations.

There you go. What is worthy of writing an ad? Anything that fits the criteria listed above.

In other words, an ad should … add.

Everything else is just an imitation and derivation of the hula-hoop.

Acumen

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

 

Acumen: (n.) the ability to make good judgments and quick decisions, typically in a particular domain: e.g. business acumen

We have convinced ourselves that ability is best achieved through training—and by training, we usually mean some sort of educational process granting us a degree or license to pursue an activity.

Here’s the problem: I have been to many doctor’s offices, where there were all sorts of awards hanging on the wall, and the technician standing before me has the personality of a beleaguered slug climbing a eucalyptus tree on a very hot day.

I have been in the presence of clergymen who have a doctorate in Biblical studies or Christian counseling, who have an interest in books but more or less deplore the sight of human beings.

Acumen, in our society, is permission to pursue a profession because you have adequately written down the correct answers on a piece of paper in an allotted amount of time to demonstrate your present level of knowledge on a given subject.

  • It does not mean you care.
  • It does not mean you’re evolving toward greater understanding.
  • And it certainly doesn’t mean that you even comprehend the “damn” that the tinker is supposed to pursue.

To me, acumen has to be measured in a much different way. Matter of fact, if you’ll allow me a little piece of silliness, I think the word should be broken down to “act like you mean it.”

That’s how I determine if I’m going to put my trust in another human being’s abilities. Just as grace covers a multitude of sins, passion certainly can disguise some levels of lessons yet unlearned.

Would I rather have someone convinced they’ve already achieved the right to pursue their craft, or would I prefer someone who is feverishly interested in the task and wants to learn how to do it more proficiently?

To me, that’s a no brainer

I’m tired of looking into the eyes of Congressmen and even into those of our President, and seeing weariness and boredom instead of light and intensity.

I am fed up with individuals who labor behind the desk in Customer Service, who obviously would rather shoot people with a gun than address their complaints.

And I am never going to be amiable to the notion of attending a church worship service where some monotone, anemic declaration of faith in God is revered simply because it has descended to a level of adequate somberness.

We will become a much better country when we stop touting our history, pointing to the achievements of our past, and instead, build a fire under our young people to hunger and thirst for righteous conclusions.

Acumen is not a one-time arrival at acceptability. It is a driving force inside us that tells us there is more to come if we will just act like we mean it.

Acedia

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acedia: (n.) a spiritual or mental sloth; apathy.

The problem with religion is that it often deadens people’s instincts to be expansive and will to excel.

The difficulty with atheism is that it launches a soul on a sea, fostering such loneliness that the end result is despair.

Yet a life without spirit is asking the emotions and the brain to peacefully co-exist in three square feet of skin, never meant to contain such revolution.

The human spirit is meant to be aflame with passion, so as to referee the continuing struggle between that which we feel, that which we think and ultimately, that which we do.

Anything that comes along to create apathy, despondency and hopelessness is an enemy of those who are adorned with such great intelligence by the Creator that it affords them the authority to walk as supreme on earth.

So how can we have enough God without becoming religious and enough questioning without being plagued by our own nagging agnosticism?

It is perhaps the greatest question that faces all humankind–and even though it may occasionally cause us to run away in horror, we must realize that the payoff for finding such a treasure of balanced expression is worth every single moment of turmoil.

Don’t give up on God, who never gave up on you–and in the process you’ll never give up on people.

Fight the tendency to go numb. Endure a little pain to welcome the pleasure … of a soaring salvation.

 

Accost

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accost: (v.) to approach and address someone boldly, aggressively or with harmful or sexual intent.

What they won’t tell you is that one person‘s “accost” is another person’s “flirt.”

One person’s “accost” is another person’s “sales pitch.”

One person’s “accost” is a new convert’s over-zealous over-telling of his testimony.

It is a fragile time we live in and it is difficult to know how much passion and energy to bring to new ideas or experiences. But let’s be honest–some of that’s just excuses. We are human, you know. As humans, we have a sensibility about when we are turning people off and when we are registering positively on their barometer of acceptability.

There are three ways to know if you are accosting someone:

1. They stop talking. If people stop talking and you find yourself delivering a soliloquy, you have probably passed from fellowship into just shipwreck.

2. There’s fear in their eyes. Sometimes it’s caused by the intensity of a spiel which does not allow for any disagreement. But when people’s eyes are darting, looking for an exit, it is not because their optometrist gave them exercises.

3. They don’t want to see you again. Human beings are pretty open to the notion of reuniting with people who gave them favorable experiences. If you suggest a second or third meeting of the minds, and they would rather leave their brains at home, somewhere along the line, whether you like it or not, you have accosted the calmer nature of your victim.

I didn’t say it’s easy to understand. And I didn’t say you would always agree with anyone else’s particular interpretation of your approach. But the only way we can truly love other people is to learn how wide their doorways are and not try to unload all of our baggage too quickly.

Accident

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accident: (n) an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury.

All four of my naturally born sons and three young men who I adopted and took into my home … were accidents.

At least, that’s the word I normally use, although when I look at the definition I find that I have been misstating the facts. These seven children were certainly not unfortunate. They also gave me no damage or injury, ide from a few nights of raised blood pressure over unkempt rooms and notorious behavior.

But they WERE accidents. I didn’t plan them. Some people take great pride in the fact that they plotted families, insisting that wanting to have a child is much more noble than acquiring one in the heat of passion, without awareness.

But I think the word “accident” is very important–because how we respond to accidents, or events beyond our expectation and control–really determines the depth of our character and in many cases, the extent of our success.

I learned a long time ago that life is not impressed with my plans nor intimidated by my energetic motivations. Life has its own agenda and pushes that forward to find out if anybody can survive the mold on their daily bread. Some people just do better with mold. Flemming, for instance, found a way to turn it into penicillin. I, myself, will not throw away a slice of bread because it has mold on it. I just cut away the green. (Yuk, right?)

But using that mind set, I have learned to take the good with the bad and salvage from it something worthy of proceeding.

I would not remind my children that they were accidents–but I’ve never lied to them, either. My first son was conceived on the grass next to a horse pasture after my senior prom. That has a certain amount of charm, doesn’t it? The exact locations of the other accidental impregnations are not clear to me–I’m sure none are quite as dramatic as the “horsing around” in the grass.

But none of them were planned. And the three young men who came into my house in later years, absorbed and adopted as sons, were just as bewildered by their presence in my home as I was in taking on my second batch of human cookie dough. Accidents are a good thing … IF we change the definition from “occasions of injury” to “our new reality.” The longer we resist change, the more devastating it seems. The sooner we realize that what has happened to us is not an accident, but a by-product of a whole collage of circumstances, the better off we become.

  • No one was ever cured of cancer by denying it.
  • No one ever became a great artist by refusing to paint.
  • And no one ever moves forward until they stop looking at what has happened to them as a turn for the worse.

I had seven accidents in my life which are all now fine, grown young men. That’s pretty good.

Maybe that’s what the insurance companies mean by “accident forgiveness.”