Counterintuitive

Counterintuitive (adj) counter to what intuition would lead one to expect

Spirituality and practicality meet together in a holy ground called common sense.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Common sense is the wisdom that is so obvious to each and every one of us, that as long as we’re not rebellious or being bratty, we can see the intuition and understand the next thing that needs to be done.

So what makes us become counterintuitive to common sense is either a lack of belief in spirituality or too much spirituality and not enough function in practicality.

Of course, there is the danger of being so practical that you don’t think anything can actually be spiritual.

We seem to be going through a phase. If I were trying to characterize the present of social thinking and parallel it to the years of our growing up time, I would say the whole world is acting like it’s sixteen years old. In other words, we all have permission to drive and put our lives in gear, but we don’t necessarily have the maturity to achieve it.

We need to come back to the better parts of ourselves and allow the spirituality that we believe in and the practicality we possess to mingle and become our new common sense.

It is certainly counterintuitive to think we’ll be able to make valuable decisions without having common sense.

And it is also counterintuitive to try to achieve common sense without a spiritual practicality.


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Cops and Robbers

Cops and robbers: (n) a children’s game in which a group of players imitate the behavior of police and of thieves, as in pursuing and capturing.

I quickly ran through my mind a list of friends from my youth, with whom I played cops and robbers on a regular basis.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

There were many derivations to the game. But as I think back on it, all the guys who ended up being straight arrows chose to be cops. And all the dudes who ended up with a twist in their fate were robbers.

There was never any argument. Definitely, everyone had already decided whether they wanted to be a cop or a robber.

At the time, I didn’t consider that we were possibly making permanent life choices. But as it turns out, “cop buddies” tried very hard to be the equivalent peace-keeping individuals when they reached adulthood, while the “robber boys” took chances, failed, crunched cars and had an occasional scrap, which led to a scrape with the law.

Which group ended up happier?

As it turned out, the kids who chose “cops” played it safer, but life, being an aggressive and angry force from time to time, still tracked them down and plagued them with divorces, bankruptcies and odd diseases.

The “robbers,” who were prepared to be rebellious, actually, in many cases, took these attacks more in stride, and viewed them as challenges rather than curses.

It’s difficult to say.

I suppose you might wonder whether I chose to be a cop or a robber. Whenever the game was played, to satisfy both parties, I volunteered to go on the donut run.


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Classical

Classical: (adj) standard, classic.

I have worked for 22 years with an oboist.

She’s a little bit Mozart; I’m a little bit rock and roll.

When we teamed up, I think she was concerned that our musical tastes might be ill-suited for one another. She had played in symphony
orchestras, and I had bopped around with gospel, blues and pop.

What she did not know was that as a boy of eleven years of age, I got hooked on a record series called “The 25 Greatest Melodies of All Time” and “The 50 Most Influential Classical Music Pieces.” So along with listening to rock and roll and some gospel music, I played my recordings of Strauss, Wagner, Beethoven, Mendelssohn and Rachmaninoff.

It was perfectly produced–the records didn’t have so much of each composition to bore me, just the highlights. What you might call the Cliff notes of the masters.

I loved the music. To this day, I think my partner is a little surprised when I insert a bit of understanding (or sometimes misunderstanding) of the music of that era. Matter of fact, she and I joined together to write some symphonies–our tribute to the styling, with the addition of our original juice.

It’s too bad we have to call something “classical.” It scares off the best market–young humans. After all, why would they want to listen to any music their parents might enjoy?

But what they don’t understand is that these composers who wrote this dynamic material were just a bunch of radical, rebellious, rag-tag and reckless adolescents.

 

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Christmas Tree

Christmas tree: (n) a decorated tree at Yuletide

“If you want a tree, go get it yourself.”

That’s what my dad said when I was fourteen years old and asked him why we had not put up our tree as of yet, at Christmastime.

Normally the practice was to pick a tree and decorate it on my birthday–one week before Christmas. But for some reason, December 20th had rolled around and nobody had even mentioned getting one.

I was offended, disrupted, angry, bewildered, uncertain, out-of-spirits and generally and profoundly rebellious, in the most adolescent way possible.

So I complained. That’s what I knew how to do.

Since I had asked at least a half a dozen times about the tree, I felt it was time for me to object. he option provided for me by my dad was to go get a tree myself.

This was plausible because our family owned a little farm outside the town, where we grew some Christmas trees. So I had my brother drive me out to the location, grabbed a little hatchet and headed off through the snowy ground to bag myself an evergreen.

With my chubby legs and being severely out of shape, I was completely exhausted from the walk to the pines–ready to give up on my mission. After all, it wasn’t my fault. I was not in charge. If the damn family didn’t want a tree, then we should be treeless.

But the problem was, that included me–and I didn’t want to be treeless.

So braving the cold, little hatchet in hand, I found what I thought would be a good tree and began to whack at the trunk.

My hatchet had obviously been purchased by Davy Crockett when he went to the Alamo and not sharpened since. The first three strikes at the tree trunk didn’t even split the bark. So as not to bore you, I will shorten this story by telling you that an hour later, sweat pouring off my face, I finally got the tree to give up its roots and prepare to move to my home.

The trunk was an absolute mess. It was not a cut, but rather a massacre. But I drug it out, my brother and I put it on top of the car, and we drove it to the house. He kindly helped me saw the bottom off to make it even so we could put it into the Christmas tree stand. To add insult to my effort, it ended up being too tall. We had to cut off part of the top.

But eventually it sat in our living room, waiting to be adorned.

That evening when my father returned from working at his loan company, he stepped into the house, looked at the tree, and said to me, “Is that the best tree you could get?”

I didn’t respond to him directly, but in my mind I thought, “Yes. It’s the best tree I could get. Because this year it’s my tree.”

 

 

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Box

Box: (n) a container with a flat base and sides, typically square or rectangular

There are several phrases I do not like.Dictionary B

Actually I despise them so much that I scold myself when I use them.

  • “You’re stupid.”
  • “I hate you.”
  • “You don’t get it.”
  • “You’re a foolish asshole.”

Well, I could go on.

But one of my least favorite–a thought that makes my skin crawl–is when people turn to me and say, “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

I know they’re really not interested.

I know they’ve sized me up and they’re trying to figure out what box they want to put me in.

They want things simple.So they have a system of storing people away so that their decisions are neat, tidy and final. If you don’t fit into one of their boxes they will decide that you’re a misfit or a rebellious anarchist.

They’re listening for buzz words.

About ten years ago, someone asked me about my occupation. I explained that I was a writer but also a performer. So they said, “Are you a teacher? A storyteller? A philosopher? Or an entertainer?”

Then they smiled, waiting for me to climb into their box.

My response was, “Well, really all of those and more.”

This was displeasing to them. They shook their head and walked away.

Mankind is ready to build a box for you.

They will encourage you, praise you, instruct you, guide you and applaud you until you get inside one of their pre-prepared cartons.

And once you do … you will never be heard of again.

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Bow

Bow: (v) to bend the knee or body or incline the head

“Every knee shall bow.”Dictionary B

When revivalists get all worked up and have a hankerin’ to preach, they love to pontificate on the notion that someday the world will be destroyed and the remaining rebellious humans who have not been slaughtered in a meaningless conflict will view a Jesus Christ arriving in the eastern sky, and at the sight of his august appearance, be driven down to their knees in reverent worship.

Some find it interesting.

Actually, it’s terrifying.

To write a book that begins with a gentle creation and ends with a third of the Earth being mutilated by weapons of mass destruction hardly seems a storyline worthy of a true Creator. If I wrote such a piece, I would deem it misled, angry and hopeless, and wad it up and throw it away.

So on those occasions when I find myself bowing, it is in the direction of an untold story lying within the plotline of the favored evangelical rendition, in which God’s love for the world is so intense that eventually we grow tired of our stupid attempts at meanness and revenge and simply relinquish our egos in the presence of a redeeming love.

 

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Because

Because: (conj) for the reason that; since.Dictionary B

Because is not a reason.

Yet I will tell you–it is the beginning for a good reason.

Because can be misleading.

A child asking a parent why a certain rule has been put in place will become impudent and rebellious if the answer is, “Because I said so.”

Because is the roadway that takes us to either great thought or immense stubbornness.

Sometimes people ask me why I believe in God. Here are three answers I don’t use:

1. Because I believe in the Bible.

Lots of folks think it’s just a book and you will not impress them with the fact that you contend it’s holy.

2. Because I grew up believing.

That would also include the Tooth Fairy and Jolly Old St. Nick.

3. Because Nature is so intricate and beautiful, there has to be a Creator.

Who says? If you gave me a billion years, I might be able to become beautiful.

My because has to have a great follow-up. Otherwise it becomes opinionated, or dare I say, flirting with ignorance.

So when people ask me why I believe in God, my answer probably is shocking:

“Because I discovered I needed one and drew up a prototype in my brain, which ended up coinciding with some existing themes.”

That’s the truth.

Because must be followed by something that is personally convincing and shares a piece of our heart instead of just our traditions.

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