Tag Archives: philosophy

Amalgamation

dictionary with letter A

Amalgamation: (n.) a mixture or blend: e.g. a curious amalgamation of the traditional and the modern.

I love that word.

Matter of fact, I will go so far as to say that our society is an amalgamation of many amalgamations–some good and some bad.

I think the best amalgamations are when an obvious need is blended with a willing spirit, culminating in a needful revelation.

Let me give you an example:

People in our country are too cynical. One of the ways we’re cynical is that we think everyone has the right to disagree with the fact that the country is too cynical.

It’s not a vote.

Cynicism is obvious because we prefer to stagnate in unworkable ideas instead of pursuing risky options that might require greater commitment. So if we admit that we’re cynical, we can concur that we need a willing spirit to consider other options, rather than sitting over coffee talking about how miserable everybody is.

Minus that willing spirit, cynicism is no longer an emotion. It becomes a philosophy.

But if you have a willing spirit, you can develop a sense of adventure to try some new things and weigh them in the balances, to see what works and what doesn’t.

Otherwise, you begin to question whether the whole process of growing and expanding is really necessary in the first place.

Politics, religion and entertainment have sunk into a quicksand of cynicism, which tells them to remain very still because if they struggle they might sink faster. But here’s the truth: even if the best reaction to quicksand is to remain still, you will eventually have to get out of the mire, or your life will be useless.

We need an amalgamation in this country–recognizing our cynicism, repenting of it and welcoming new ideas, even if many of them seem ridiculous and without merit.

Because honestly, the funniest story that could be told: Thomas Edison sharing about the experiments that failed to work … on the way to the light bulb. 

Alzheimer’s Disease

dictionary with letter A

Alzheimer’s disease: (n) a progressive mental deterioration that can occur in middle or old age due to generalized degeneration of the brain.

When you read the definition, there’s nothing funny about it.

But candidly, I think everybody feels a little nervous about taking this disease seriously.

It isn’t that we don’t have empathy for those who suffer from it. It’s just that the one-liners, comedic set-up and potential sketches available on the subject of older people becoming forgetful are so ripe with scenarios that it’s difficult to pass them up in favor of more sensitive profiles.

So when are we being callous?

I remember once in a show I joked about the fact that “considering my size, you know I’m not anorexic.” A lady walked up to me afterwards and complained about my choice of humor, saying that her daughter suffered from the condition and that it was not a jocular matter.

I apologized.

The reason I offered this remorse was that I had offended her. I didn’t do anything offensive, but because the subject matter was so personal and close to her, she was offended by my making light of the gravity of the situation.

But honestly, I do not know if we can progress the human race without learning to laugh at ourselves.

Would I think jokes about Alzheimer’s Disease were funny if I had it? Since I probably wouldn’t know–yes. (See? There are people who probably would find even that turnaround crass…)

All of us are going to get old, and that looming condition is both real and frightening at the same time. To approach it without some sort of good cheer is probably the greatest danger.

So I follow a simple philosophy: I try to find humor in everything, serious or not. It is not because I don’t care. It is because the only way to care is to relieve pain, not merely point it out.

We must be careful in a time when we are touting our personal feelings more than understanding our human need–that we don’t lose sight of the escapism of comedy.

I do not condone those who are rude and crude. I am not saying that any kind of disease is pleasant. I’m just saying that as an obese man, plagued with many of the complications associated with it, I have never gained ground by digging in my heels, weeping or looking for reasons to be offended.

The only light I’ve ever seen at the end of any of my tunnels … is humor.


Ajar

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Ajar: (adj and adv) a door or other opening left slightly open

“Keep the door ajar.”

We all know what that means.

It’s our way of communicating that what is happening, beyond that which is inside the enclosure, is not private, segregated or secret.

It is also what we were told to do as teenagers when we were in a room with our girlfriend or boyfriend. It was a reminder that at any time, our seclusion could be interrupted by the inclusion of others.

I made a decision a long time ago to keep my life ajar. To think that any of us can get by with hiding our mistakes or foibles is a ridiculous notion. In an age of super-information available at super-speed, it is doubtful that privacy can be attained, so the only thing open to us is to select speed of revelation.

I’ve been silly about it in the past.

  • At one time I was embarrassed that I didn’t go to college, but began a family immediately due to my rising hormones, which preceded declining grades.
  • I used to be afraid to admit to others how unknown my efforts were and attempted to name-drop to procure respect, which only, in the long run, drew further attention to those mightier than me, whose names I was invoking.
  • I used to avoid questions by changing the subject or offering answers I thought were cleverly ambiguous, but actually just sounded evasive and stupid.

You can feel free to attempt to delude the public, keeping your door tightly shut, in hopes of avoiding interference from strangers. But as the Good Book says, there is nothing “whispered in the ear which is not eventually shouted from the housetops.” (By the way, a statement spoken by a fellow who didn’t even have to deal with the Internet—or the NSA.)

So I can sum up my philosophy about “keeping my life ajar” in three quick statements:

  1. If I’m ashamed of it, change it enough to where the shame is gone.
  2. If I’m the first one to bring it up, nobody can act like they “got me.”
  3. Honesty is the best way to keep people off your back, because they relax and then you can actually be more like yourself.

Keep the door ajar. Pretty good philosophy.

Keep your life ajar. Genius.

Agnus Dei

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgnus Dei: (n) 1. a figure of a lamb bearing a cross or flag as an emblem of Christ 2. an invocation of liturgy meaning “lamb of God“

I suppose I’m an inferior religious person because some of the symbolism really bothers me. Maybe it’s not so much that it bothers me, but it really confuses me with its mixed messages and unclear signals.

First, we have a God who tells people He doesn’t want them to kill. Then we’re told that He really likes the idea of us killing animals and spilling their blood on an altar as a token of absolution for our sins. Then some renegade prophets come along and tell us this is completely inaccurate and that He really finds it revolting to “sacrifice little beasts so that we can make it to a heavenly feast.”

And finally, convinced that God wants mercy and not sacrifice, we are reintroduced to a blood-thirsty deity who apparently demands the suicide mission of His human, flesh-clad son, in order for us all to be redeemed from our nasty little vices.

Then, further adding to my bewilderment, we are supposed to refer to this pre-destined, condemned offspring as the “Lamb of God,” when it was made very clear that God didn’t like lambs becoming the scapegoat.

You see what I mean?

So whenever I’m in church and I find myself listening to a rather Druid interpretation of the tenderness of God, and especially when they’re asking me to repeat words which parrot this oblique philosophy, I teeter between silence and rage.

Would somebody please make up their minds? Does God hate bloody lambs?

Or does He secretly like them?

Age of Consent

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Age of consent: (n) the age at which a person’s, particularly a girl’s, consent to sexual intercourse is valid by law.

I am thoroughly convinced that a conservative philosophy would work beautifully if those who pursued it were actually faithful.

Likewise, I have no doubt that a liberal agenda would be equally as positive if the people adhering to its tenets would not swerve from their conviction.

The problem is inconsistency–and nowhere does this show up in our society any more than in our dealings with our children–and especially with our teenagers. Let me give you an example.

Teenagers are supposed to have the wisdom to study for school, take care of their lockers, drive a car, decide what college they want to go to, study for the SAT, make good choices on not drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes, and control their hormones.

Yet by the same token, we turn right around and say they are irresponsible, childish, silly, that their brains don’t fully develop until they’re twenty-five years of age, and that they are just as capable of lying as they are of breaking out in acne.

We have to make up our minds.

If our children are able to drive a car down the street, are they not also mature enough to make decisions about their own sexuality?

We don’t want our children to be drug dependent, while simultaneously living in a society that has a free flow of alcohol and is discussing legalizing marijuana–to further deaden their personalities.

They can’t drink until they’re twenty-one, yet in every movie or television show, we see high school students freely consuming alcohol products, as if they just stopped off at the local party store and picked up a bunch.

Somewhere along the line, we need to get a handle on what we really believe the young humans are capable of achieving and what we think they aren’t.

I firmly believe that the teenagers who came through my house were capable of doing anything at all–as long as they were adequately motivated and supervised. I believe they were nearly worthless if left to their own initiative.

I don’t know whether that is a positive or a negative–it’s just my finding. To me, young humans are very similar to guns. In the hands of the right individual, who is responsible and willing to point the implement in the correct direction, there can possibly be a powerful use. But guns left lying around will always fall into the wrong hands.

Such is the case with the teenager.

So it is time for our society to realize that when puberty is striking people at the age of twelve or thirteen, to ask these individuals to withhold their urges for ten years in order to complete a college education is not only ridiculous, but may be the definition of impossible.

So what am I saying about the age of consent? I know we have to have a legal number so as to run our society in a prudent way–but I do think it is the duty of all parents to sit down with their children and candidly walk through the entire process of human sexuality–and let them know the consequences of all actions.

So what is the age of consent?

I really do not think human beings are able to consent to their own choice in sexuality until they have been taught what is destructive and what is valuable. For some folks, that means they probably shouldn’t kiss until they’re thirty. But for other kids, it could be much younger.

Our culture is desperately in need of some consistency. I welcome the concept of freedom … as long as it is intentionally and ferociously linked to responsibility.

Agape

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgape: (n) Christian love, as distinct from erotic love

I was always told that “agape” was God’s love.

What would that be?

I suppose even if you were an atheist you might like to speculate on what style the mythical figure of God might have when it comes to expressing love.

Of course, it’s popular nowadays to present the love of God as “unconditional.” This might be the same reaction you would receive if you went to a convention of men and asked them if they believed in equal rights for women. The only acceptable answer would be a resounding, “Of course!”

But as often has been expressed through the cliché, “the proof is in the pudding,” it is not what we THINK about love, but how we express it in the moments that are inconvenient that demonstrates its true value. The truth is, no one truly loves me if they allow me to continue destructive behavior which limits my possibilities and jeopardizes my life span.

So does unconditional–or agape–love mean that God smiles on whatever we do and finds some way to adjust His philosophy and Kingdom to our whims? I don’t think even an atheist would contend that such a God would be able to maintain order in His universe under those specifications.

Agape love is set apart as important because it understands weakness, tenderly addresses it, challenges, but never leaves nor forsakes.

That IS quite miraculous.

Normally by the time we are angry at someone, we also have concluded that we are prepared to disassociate from them.

  • Unconditional love is not telling people they are fine the way they are.
  • Unconditional love is sharing your heart with people, expressing your concerns, but remaining.

If we truly taught agape affection, humanity could stop being so defensive, self-protecting, lying and cautious, and begin to believe that nothing can separate them from the tenderness of another.

So I make it clear to the people who I love that I will listen to their dreams and not allow them to stray too far from their aspirations without reminding them of their own hearts. Then, if they don’t want to listen to me, I will settle into a position of presence, without feeling the need to condone.

It IS possible. Until we define unconditional love, we will believe that every time we are challenged, it is rejection.

Rejection does not occur … unless someone stomps away in disapproval.

Aerie

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Aerie: (n) the nest  of a bird of prey, esp. an eagle, typically built high in a tree or on a cliff.

Am I being too needy when I say that I take great comfort in the fact that an eagle is considered to be a rather regal creature, even though it is bald like me? (Of course, lacking feathers, an attractive beak, and not to mention, the ability to fly–at that point all similarities seem to cease.)

But there is something wonderfully intriguing and even mysterious about the eagle, soaring high into the mountain, nestling itself into a home far from the jungle and the maddening crowd.

There is something here to learn: I need an aerie–not to remove myself permanently from humanity as a grumbling objection to the insanity being proffered, but rather, a place where I can escape at times and get a little higher so I can see a little clearer and gain some perspective, instead of touting how wise I am, with the evidence of how cynical I’ve become.

  • What passes for philosophy nowadays are actually jaded observations from those who have embraced sarcasm and abandoned solution.
  • What is pushed forward as government is an exclusive club of politicians, who get together to advertise favored causes, which most importantly, contradict the views of their opponents.
  • And what is passed on as communion of spirituality is either a narrow-minded God who’s pissed off with mankind or some benevolent hippie juiced up on weed, who loves everybody, no matter how miserable they are.

Fly a little higher.

Find a place of seclusion every once in a while, where you can clear your head.

In so doing, you might be surprised, like the eagle, at how God will give you new ideas … and expand your bird brain.

Adam

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Adam: (in the Bible) the first man. According to the Book of Genesis, Adam was created by God as the progenitor of the human race, and lived with Eve in the Garden of Eden.

Ape or dust? Darwin or Genesis?

This appears to be our choice.

Would I prefer to incorporate into my thinking that I am a highly evolved primate, who sometime back in my distant history became the offspring of a smart monkey, who decided to walk out from among the trees and mate with another smart monkey, who eventually, over generations, created smarter and smarter monkeys?

Or would I rather believe in fairy dust, formed by the hands of a Spirit which rules the universe, to create the flesh and blood of a human being, completely intact, needing no evolution, and arriving on the scene adult, intelligent and whole?

Wow.

So here’s what I came up with: I have decided to look at the progress of the human race instead of studying its lineage. This is what I see–we are better off believing, pursuing and walking in a philosophy that tells us we came from a garden instead of a jungle.

If we follow the contentions of our dear brother, Darwin, we will justify our irrational, selfish and even destructive behavior–which wants to kill to eat.

If we hold sacred the notion of God being “breathed” into human beings, we will need to follow through on that idea by understanding that we are a people geared to planting and harvesting.

You would have to agree–there IS a massive difference.

Perhaps in a more jaded frame of mind, I would point to historical facts which might make us temporarily believe that we are more similar to our ancestors who hunted down game for survival without mercy. But there are too many examples of times when the human spirit has triumphed and snatched defeat out of the jaws of insanity for us to ignore the creative spark of generosity and holiness that seems inbred.

I think it’s really that simple. The success you will have in your life, your relationships, your family, your business and in all of your interactions with the creatures on the planet we share will be determined by whether you roam this earth as a jungle or till it as a garden.

Do I believe the entire Genesis account? I believe that we are better as gardeners than we are as high-minded, angry monkeys.

And I think somewhere along the line, whether either account is completely true or false, or a blending of one another, when it comes to pushing forward the ideals of humanity, we would do better to present ourselves as Old McDonald instead of King Kong.

Abbey Road

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAbbey Road: a road in northwestern London in England, west of Regents Park, the site of recording studios that are associated with the Beatles and other pop music figures.

John, Paul, Ringo and George were so upsetting to my parents that even though they were not religious people, both of them were convinced that the fab four collectively were the anti-Christ, even though my mom and dad were not all that pro-Christ themselves.

The "funeral procession" on the cove...

The “funeral procession” on the cover of Abbey Road (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I don’t know whether we’ll see another phenomenon like the Beatles in the next one hundred years. It was kind of the perfect storm of cultural upheaval. They had the look of anarchy with their long hair and pointed boots. They had the music of anarchy, which included blues chords taken directly out of the Mississippi Delta from the Negra culture. They had the habits of anarchy in the sense that they appeared to be clean-cut young men until you got close to them and found out that they were rather renegade. And they had the philosophy of anarchy because they didn’t believe that Jesus was as popular as they were.

I was not allowed to listen to the British invasion in my home as a youngster, but rather, had to escape over to Paul Morgenstern’s house to hear the wicked tunes on his radio. I was so obsessed with both the melodies and the general rebellion of being away from home and frolicking to the tunes that I took my clumsy, white, doughboy body and danced in their living room–until Paul’s mother walked in one day and caught me, and wasn’t sure whether to scream, giggle or run out the back door into the outhouse and hide.

I wasn’t invited back much after that. I kept up with the Beatles’ career by going to friends’ houses for overnight stays, where I would gluttonize on the hits, hoping that in the days of musical starvation to follow, I would be able to sustain myself.

My parents have since passed away, leaving behind adequate gravestones to mark their presence. Meanwhile, the Beatles failed to end the world, but instead, granted it a few moments of pleasure from their recording perch up there on Abbey Road.

It gives me pause today when I see people wrangling and wrestling over cultural phenomena–to stop for a moment and not participate simply because I am age-worthy.

It is rather doubtful that the world will end with a great rock and roll song. My guess would be the closing gavel at a political convention.