Consensus

Consensus: (n) general agreement

Consensus is a general agreement to handle major issues in a way that causes us to become captains of our fate.

It is escaping private opinions.

To say we are desperately in need of consensus on many of the issues of Earth-life might be the greatest understatement ever spoken–next to “Do you think thatfunny wisdom on words that begin with a C
iceberg is going to give the Titanic any problems?”

There are six categories, and I am going to venture, nobly but humbly, to give my consensus on six of these common Earth circumstances:

  1. Earth

The Earth is not yours, it is not mine. It runs on a system. It rewards those who diligently learn the technique and the nurturing of Mother.

  1. God

No one knows. Stop pretending you do. Certainly stop pretending you don’t. God is an unknown quantity which will end up being of great benefit to us if we want to continue the energy of our existence after death–and always points us to the beauty of His Earth and how it works if we’ll respect Father’s opinion about Mother.

  1. People

They are neither a hazard nor a blessing, but rather, a necessity. You will be completely incapable of getting your Big Mac at three o’clock in the morning if there are no people. Our best consensus on dealing with people is to cease looking at them by color, religion, culture or sexual orientation and begin to embrace them as the cousins they are.

  1. Work

Human beings are at their most harmonious when they put labor and effort of twenty-five hours into each week. That’s five hours–Monday through Friday. If we became accustomed to that work schedule we would not only be happier, but also most efficient.

  1. Love

Love is neither an emotion nor is it a sentiment. It is the atmosphere that fosters the cooperation necessary for work, people, God and the Earth to hum. It is a committed affection.

And finally:

  1. Romance

Although there are many barriers that come to play with venereal diseases and unwanted pregnancies, those who attempt to deter romance, boxing it up into neat little units of propriety, historically end up looking like supreme assholes.

A little romance does a lot of good. Often a lot of romance does very little good.

I present my consensus on these issues. Of course, yours is just as good as mine.

And where they overlap, may we join together in hilarious fellowship.

 

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Bludgeon

Bludgeon: (v) to beat someone repeatedly with a heavy object.

Dictionary B

All she said to me was, “I need help.”

I think it was probably the tone of her voice which let me know that my young friend on the phone was in trouble.

She had married a man who certainly had a reputation for being psychologically imbalanced. But she insisted she loved him, and truthfully, he seemed to thrive in their relationship, losing some of his waywardness.

But then he got used to her.

She wasn’t magical anymore.

She was available–maybe too available.

So since it was impossible for him to beat on a mirror, he started beating on her.

Little infractions at first (if there is such a thing).

But I could tell by listening to her on the phone that she was in deep trouble and I needed to get over to her.

My car wasn’t fast enough. By the time I arrived, he had bludgeoned her, making her face appear to be twice its normal size. Blue, black, purple and strains of red began to surface with the swelling.

As I tried to calm her down, I watched the damage grow right before my eyes. She was so wounded.

I had never seen it up close and personal, just portrayed on TV with make-up and tricks. But this was real.

I felt pain just looking at her face.

It looked as if she would never be able to totally reconstruct her features again. As I comforted her and we waited for the arrival of family and a police officer, I told myself to register the image of her countenance in my mind for all time.

For you see, sometimes violence has a slight sniff of propriety.

Maybe we think it’s a good way to get even. But any time you lay your hand against another traveler, the human body displays the vulgarity of your efforts with the horrific image of swollen pain.

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Bandage

Bandage: (n) a strip of material used to bind a wound or to protect an injured part of the body.Dictionary B

The reason “the truth makes you free” is that you do not have to exhaust yourself finding new hiding places for your stupidity.

During a particularly stubborn point in my life, I developed an infection in my left big toe.

I didn’t think much about it. At first it just looked like athlete’s foot. (Matter of fact, that’s what I called it. I was rather proud to be athletic enough to have a corresponding foot.)

But it got worse. It festered and then spread to my nearby toe, so I had two little fellas who were now unable to go to market.

My denial increased.

I did not want to go to the doctor with it because I felt ridiculous asking a man of medicine to deal with “my little piggies.”

It began to seep pus, having to be bandaged every day by a friend of mine, who was so gracious that she pretended it wasn’t a big deal.

After a while, it stunk.

She and I pretended like it didn’t, so as to keep propriety moving along properly. Then it started turning black.

That’s not good.

So I tried more home remedies, and convinced myself on a daily basis that it appeared to be healing. I even bought some silver over the Internet because it was referred to as an “old-fashioned antibiotic” that I could pour on the wound and believe I had discovered some great medical elixir of the gods.

My toe got so sick that it finally made all of me sick. I went to the hospital, but was too late to save the two toes, so they were amputated.

I hope I haven’t grossed you out with my story, and if you’re still reading it, you must have a great constitution.

But here’s the truth about bandages:

They were created to cover a wound while it’s healing … not disguise a wound that needs treatment.

 

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Altar

dictionary with letter A

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J. R. Practix

Altar: (n) the table in a Christian church at which the bread and wine are consecrated in communion services.

Sometimes I am embarrassed at my lack of interest in religion.

I am extremely intrigued with faith, personal consecration, devotion and the quest for better things.

It’s kind of the way I felt when I was a kid and my friends would become involved in new, popular activities. My only interest in the venture was whether or not it was fun. But my friends would get picky about the pieces of a puzzle or the trinkets that went inside a game board.

One of my companions became totally obsessed with marbles–to the point that he had buckskin pouches to carry them in, and they couldn’t be mingled with each other because the purees had to be separated from the bulgers, which had to be totally kept apart from the cats’ eyes. So every time I played with this kid, he was yelling at me about procedures and propriety. instead of just shooting marbles.

Yep, I guess that sums up my spirituality.

I’m just shooting marbles.

When you want me to cherish the sanctity of an altar, or discuss speculate on whether bread looks like the human body and whether wine is a symbol of blood or is actually transposed in substance…well, I’m outta here.

I’m against altars–mainly because they don’t alter anyone.

They make us feel superior because we think more than other people, rather than weighing our worth by what we feel and do.

So go ahead and worship at your altar, and know all the significance of each and every holy piece placed upon it.

But for me, I believe if you’re going to enjoy yourself, you need to learn the importance of relaxing and appreciating more than worshipping and revering.