Deadhead

Deadhead: (n) a person using a free pass

Just to be candid with you, when my children were growing up, I often called them “deadheads.”

It was that glassy-eyed look, which they would sport when arriving for breakfast, believing that if nothing was happening outside, then nothing need happen inside their own heads.

I taunted them about this profile because it does not disappear simply because you cease to be an adolescent.

For if you believe you’re going to respond to what is happening, but stay disconnected until you have confirmed there is activity afoot, you will not only fail to be ready for the opportunity, but will find yourself resentful that you weren’t given more time to prepare.

The secret to life is no secret.

It’s completely obvious.

The whole temperature of Planet Earth is geared to three different emotions, and our job is to know when to use them:

  1. Care
  2. Aware
  3. Dare

Often we arrive and somebody is already hurt. There’s pain in the air and suffering has made its mark. Being able to dip into a heart filled with grace and provide care is ushering heaven to Earth.

Sometimes there’s a chance to do something truly significant, but it is buried under inconvenience or arrives on a day when we have already determined that “we’re too busy.” Yet, for those who are aware and have tuned their ears, eyes and passions to possibility, these little treasures can carry us into the future and place us in great positions.

And we must realize there are occasions when fear, anger or bigotry has shut down the world around us, and it is time to step out of the box of conformity and do something unexpected—and provide immediate benefit.

Can we dare to do it?

So to avoid being a deadhead, you must travel with care, aware and dare tucked into your saddlebags, so you are ready to set up camp and start the fire.

Colander

Colander: (n) a perforated bowl used to strain off liquid

The key is in finding the secret.

For instance, the secret to good lasagna is the cheese blend.

The secret to good pizza is a toss-up between the crust and the sweetness of the sauce.

The secret to good sex is to make sure the woman has an orgasm before the man pursues his.

The secret to spirituality is to read less, be more.

The secret to politics is to tell the truth.

Which brings me to the secret for spaghetti. (You may not see any particular clarity in the path I’ve taken, but here we are.)

The secret to spaghetti is the colander.

Some would insist it is the texture–preferring al dente–but spaghetti can have perfect texture, but still cling to too much water, making the sauce ineffective.

The colander allows you to shake off the extra moisture, which puts the spaghetti on your plate drier and more able to make love with the cheese and tomatoes. Anybody who has ever tried to make spaghetti without a colander always finds that at the bottom of the pan is a whole bunch of liquid that hangs around to steal the taste.

Sometimes I wish I could be thrown into a colander and shaken around–just to get rid of all the extra meaningless residue. Of course, I would never fit into a colander, and the shaking would probably kill me.

So I shall not do that. I promise.

 

Donate Button

Subscribe to Jonathan’s New Podcast

 

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 Internetor 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.

Afternoon

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAfternoon: (n) the time from noon or lunchtime to evening.

Here’s a secret: life is about uncovering your delusions and quietly correcting them before they smack you in the face.

All of us are delusional.

The difference between success and failure is whether you acknowledge your delusion, hunt down these little pieces of silliness in your soul and extract them before they diminish your true opportunities.

Let us deal with the delusion of afternoon.”

An interesting quandary: lots of people hate the morning, insisting they aren’t “morning people,” and also would not consider doing anything in the evening, since it’s their “free time.” So they put tremendous pressure on the afternoon, when they have the least  amount of energy and possibilities, and the fewest contacts with people who are awake and ready to indulge in commerce.

Can there be a worse time to do business than from 1:00 P.M. to 4:00 P.M.? Successful people already started the ball rolling in the morning, and those who love the evening hours approach the afternoon as if it WERE morning.

You find yourself in a no man’s land.

Now, you can feel free to disagree with this assessment, and some of you probably will. But here’s what I have found to be intelligent: whether you like it or not, the morning is when things happen. If you get over the delusion that you cannot function in those early, waking hours, you can learn to take your day on and use the afternoon in a more Mexican light.

Use it for a siesta.

Since most people slow down after lunch because of high blood sugar and general fatigue, as much as you can, try to bring less importance to the afternoon and more value to it as personal time.

For instance, I take a nap.

Having risen early in the morning to write, do commerce and take care of personal affairs, after lunch I allow myself the great delight of snuggling and snoozing. When I arise in the late afternoon, I am ready for a second bout with the day, usually involving more time with friends and family.

If you live for the night you will become a vampire and suck out your own blood.

But if you live for the afternoon, you will wonder why there isn’t much business or activity going on.

If you live for the morning, you will overcome your fear of scrambled eggs and find that there are many other people, industrious in nature and wise in discovery … who will meet you there.

Abustle

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abustle: (adj.) bustling; busy: the main drag was abustle with creative sidewalk artists.

One of my least favorite emotional states or climates for activity is frantic. This is why I don’t like “abustle.”

I don’t mind people being busy, but I don’t want them to let me know they are or appear they are on their “last nerve,” ready to explode with overwrought eagerness. I think the secret in life is to get a lot accomplished and surprise yourself at the end of the day with the list of successes, without ever appearing to lift too many fingers.

Yes–if we’re successful at achieving laziness but are still productive, we may have just discovered the true secret of life.

I get around folks all the time who move like gnats. Have you ever noticed a gnat? It has no particular direction and actually flies in little, tiny circles, attempting to locate some sort of goal that would give its life purpose. So one gnat in a room can be much more annoying than two flies. The flies are bigger and buzz more, but they do occasionally land and rest for a spell instead of continually fidgeting to make themselves known without any obvious purpose.

Do we really look more intelligent and creative when we’re abuzz? Does quickening our step get us somewhere faster, or just increase the possibility of tripping up? Is worrying the sign of true concern, or just an obvious admission that we don’t really know what we’re doing and certainly don’t believe in what we’re pursuing?

I do hate it when people say they’re busy. “I didn’t write you this week because I was busy.” So I guess that means that because I DID write to you, my life must be devoid of purpose. Or does it mean that I took the time to leisurely grant you three or four minutes of my thoughts to send your way?

Don’t tell me you’re too busy. Don’t run around all abustle, convincing the world that God is anxiously awaiting the results of your present adventure. We take ourselves too seriously. In the process, we admit that life is serious. In doing that, we stop having fun.

I am not busy. And if I am busy, I will stop immediately. I will not move one inch until my joy returns and I can go back to meticulously relishing every single moment of my endeavors.