Tag Archives: soul

Cachet

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Cachet: (n) the state of being respected or admired; prestige.

Reading today’s word with its definition, I diagnosed a problem I’ve been experiencing in my personal life over the past five months.

After many years, numerous victories, and an amazing assortment of achievements, I want to continue my work, but I really would love to do so without having to promote myself or reaffirm with others around me that I am capable.

I don’t know what the magic number should be, but somewhere along the line we should have built up a cachet of evidence which doesn’t constantly have to be drug into the court of public opinion in order for us to receive a positive verdict.

I especially desire that my children, friends and dear acquaintances would provide space for my ability, my mission and for the little ego I feel is necessary to tote so that I don’t implode with self-pity.

When I don’t get that portion, I am in danger of sharing my work from a root of bitterness instead of a blossom of sweetness.

It is our responsibility to remember the authority and value of each other–even if we happen to temporarily be put out or miffed.

Sometimes I can’t promote myself and still remain righteous. I need people who have benefitted from knowing me to remind me and others of the gold that God has entrusted to my soul.

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Buttress

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Buttress: (n) a source of defense or support.

I construct a buttress–a physical barrier to communicate that I am prepared to withstand an attack.

I suppose if it stopped there it might be fine. Certain safeguards are necessary in a violent world.

But once I physically construct a buttress, I begin to believe it’s necessary to build a mental buttress for my brain.

What is that?

Only certain information is allowed. This data must be in harmony with my present philosophy and level of understanding.

Once I’m fully protected from the possibility of errant or alien ideas attacking my mind, it becomes necessary to build a buttress for my spirit–the soul.

And how shall I construct such a protection? By developing an unwavering conviction on who God is and who the Creator is not, never allowing foreign doctrines to permeate my walls.

Even if I am granted a vision sent from the heavens, I must defend the traditions–or risk losing the certainty I have over established belief.

So now I’m protected from physical assault, mental aggression and spiritual infiltration.

I certainly must complete the isolation by erecting a buttress to guard my feelings.

The emotions need to shrink, only including certain members of my family, color, styles and predilections. I find myself getting cold but adjust to the chill by warming myself with a cloak of self-righteousness.

Now I am fully encased, each buttress in place to secure body, mind, soul and heart.

But why am I awakening in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, screaming?

What has come in?

What is troubling me?

What has breached my fortification and now disrupts my rest?

I am undefended from me.

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Budge

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Budge: (v) to move slightly

I am an oxymoron.

For I will tell you of a certainty, I am a domesticated gypsy.

Or a gypsy, domesticated.

Half of my journey has been raising a family of fine sons, who now hDictionary Bave lives of their own.

But intermingled was a series of travels to share my art and heart with hundreds of thousands of people across the United States of America.

It was a precariously divine mission, one which I had to spark up in my soul daily, to guarantee enough pistons in the engine to propel me forward.

So I was often amused when I finished my show, which included music, humor and dialogue, and the sponsor nervously came to my side, twitching and relieved, and said, “It sure seems like everybody enjoyed it.”

I do think this individual usually believed if he or she had shared some problem or preference that the audience expressed, that I would leap at the opportunity to amend my approach or add a different angle to my presentation.

Here’s the truth–and you’ll just have to believe that it’s the truth since you’re not that familiar with my soul.

You can change your cologne but not your face.

What I mean by that is, if somebody wants you to smell different, it’s really no big deal.

But when somebody wants to change your look–or your outlook–they’ve landed on sacred ground.

I’m always willing to change things that don’t matter, but I won’t budge if I believe they have eternal consequences.

 

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Brassy

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Brassy: (adj) tastelessly showy or loud in appearance or manner

How much is enough?

That may be the central concern to human life.Dictionary B

Because in hours of reflection, when opportunity is long gone, the question raised in our soul is either “did we do enough?” or “did we do too much?”

  • In a world of indifference, how much flash does it take for someone to notice your pan?
  • How many cherries before you actually have a bowl?
  • And how many sunrises before someone grabs a camera?

What does it take to draw enough attention to goodness that evil pales in comparison?

I am convinced that the promotion of a great idea is not achieved through a deluge of advertising, screaming, yelling and promotion.

Goodness, gentleness, kindness, righteousness, beauty are all required to maintain a consistency while the world overlooks them until such a time that the planet is prepared to be aware.

Therefore, the quandary is not whether there’s anything good in the world. The issue is whether goodness can survive all of the brassy critique and dark representations to finally get its chance to inherit the Earth.

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Body Language

Body language: (n) the process of communicating nonverbally through conscious or unconscious gestures

Dictionary B

Normally, if “body” has a language, it’s fussiness.

By the time our little ticks, twits and jerks become obvious to those around us, we have festered frustration for way too long.

We are intended to be heart creatures, where emotions crop up and we share them with the anticipation of salvaging the good, and having a hearty laugh over the rest.

Yet for those who are afraid to share their feelings, there is a soul. It also gives us a doorway to communication through confession. If we haven’t taken advantage of our heart, to be clean, we can confess our faults to one another and be healed.

But there are those who do not believe in the soul, and for them, there is the brain. So these folks can use the mind to stimulate discussion with others, introducing topics they may not want to confess, but can still garner food for thought.

But when we fail to share, confess or discuss, our inner grumbling comes out through our body language–as our skin literally crawls within the view of others.

  • If you can’t share, confess.
  • If you can’t confess, discuss.

But if you fail to stimulate the discussion, be prepared for your little twitches to be analyzed by the skeptics around you.

 

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Blow

Blow: (v) to create an air current.

Dictionary B

Although I was greatly impressed with the poetry, I have to admit that when Bob Dylan proffered the idea that the answer is “Blowin’ in the Wind,” I was incredulous.

I do believe the Earth speaks to us.

I think there are obvious ways of thinking and acting that overall prosper a bit better than others. But God gave us a brain because emotions wear thin and souls can be too ethereal.

There are those who make my acquaintance who must “feel” everything to believe it’s real, and I have many friends who are convinced that prayer is the only way to receive lasting peace and tranquillity.

Yet I will tell you–that brain sits up there, begging to be used and certainly needing to be renewed with fresh insight every day .

I like the word “blow” because it has so may different representations.

It can be a burst of wind.

Or it can be an admission that we screwed up. “I blew that.”

It also has one or two naughty implications, which keep it even more intriguing.

But the answers we seek are probably not going to blow in our direction. They will require us to take a breath of air and release it, giving our brain enough oxygen… to blow forth some innovation.

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Better Half

Better half: (n) a person’s wife, husband, or partner.

Dictionary B

I am willing to giggle at silly things until they become dangerously stupid or prejudiced.

I have gone to a comedy club and heard a black comedian joke about his heritage and community and laughed along with him, realizing that if the jokes were told by someone with a more pale complexion, they would be radically bigoted.

But I have grown weary of the ignorance being promoted in our society by the little quips thrown out by men and women, seemingly attempting to praise the other, while obviously lamenting a hidden dilemma.

Things like:

  • “Women are smarter than men.”
  • Or “I do what she says.”
  • Or “I’ll have to check with my wife.”
  • Or the notorious aside: “This is my better half.”

Actually, men and women are so ill-suited in their naturally confused culture of gender bias, that they should be quarantined from one another.

Because the true better half of both men and women is the soul.

The heart and the mind are in great conflict: the heart feels, the brain pumps out training.

When that happens, you have the climate for war.

It is in the soul that we find the arbiter.

It is the soul that says, “We have more in common than difference.”

The soul tells us, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God.”

The soul gently nudges us to realize that “in the Kingdom of God, there is neither male nor female.”

My wife is not my better half.

But we have a chance of getting along with each other when we allow our souls to enlighten us … and alleviate the half-witted skirmish between our hearts and our brains.

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Belch

Belch: (v) to emit gas noisily from the stomach through the mouth.Dictionary B

“Confession is good for the soul.”

This is a sentiment obviously spoken by a monk who lives on some desert island. Actually, confession is always painful because you may personally feel release, but you have also allowed others to draw conclusions which they may bring up to you later.

So I will say, with some trepidation, that I never learned how to belch at will.

When I was growing up, there were some very impressive young studs in our gym class who could perform mass burping to the amusement of the entire gathered horde.

I could never figure it out.

People explained it to me–something about swallowing air and then releasing it…

Well anyway, because I cannot perform this art of mass belching, I will occasionally get indigestion and be miserable, contorting my body into all sorts of positions to try to simply expel some gas. I have no problem with the back door distribution. It’s the front door that gives me fits.

So unlike others, who find belching to be extremely distasteful, generally speaking … it just causes this pilgrim to be green with envy.

 

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Bartender

Bartender: (n) a person who mixes and serves drinks at a bar.Dictionary B

Most of the spirits that have come into me have entered through my soul instead of my mouth.

I am not a drinker. I am not self-righteous about it–it’s just not a part of my practice.

I do overeat.

I under-exercise.

It’s not as if I don’t participate in human activities that are capable of pleasure but also can quickly become foibles.

For me, it has always been an inability to get over the taste. Recently recovering from a throat condition, I was astounded at how horrible cough syrup is to ingest. To purposefully pour such intense fluid down my gullet on an ongoing basis is beyond my comprehension.

It started when I was eighteen years old and went on a trip to Nashville, Tennessee, with my soon-to-be wife. We decided to go out to a bar to catch some lively “Music City” entertainment. This particular establishment had a two-drink minimum. That meant you had to order two alcoholic beverages to be able to sit and listen to the music. I probably could have ordered a soft drink, but at age eighteen, such ineffective communication of maturity was unacceptable. I was allowed to order a drink, so a drink would be ordered.

I asked for a Michelob. When it came to the table, I took a huge gulp, which nearly regurgitated back in my direction.

It was so terrible.

I saw other people sitting around drinking it freely, as if it were some sort of pleasurable experience. Years later, working with a group of artists in Louisiana, we thought it was extraordinarily Continental to order wine with our dinner. After a couple of weeks of this practice, I had to turn to my companions and tell them that I was ruining my hamburger by having to survive my vino.

I say all this to admit to you that talking about a mixologist–or a bartender, in this case–is really beyond my scope. The only bartender I actually knew was a fellow I met in California. He was a minister who tended bar part-time in order to counsel and help folks who were drowning some of their sorrows in liquid refreshment.

I doubt if he’s a typical purveyor of the intoxicants. I’ve often admired bartenders in movies, mixing their blends together with such style and speed.

But I am the worst person in the world to write an article on bartending.

So I think I will stop.

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Banter

Banter: (n) the playful and friendly exchange of teasing remarks.Dictionary B

I do not know whether you’ve heard yet, or discovered it in the obituary columns, but banter has died.

The silly, challenging, comical, poking fun and sometimes nearly flirting with degrading conversations that friends once had with each other have been murdered because the movement of social media has deteriorated our interaction to, “please like me–or I hate you.”

Here is a startling statement: every piece of critique or even criticism is not necessarily meant to be confrontational.

I sometimes find myself joking with strangers in a grocery store, only to discover that they become alarmed if I even connote that they are anything short of divine.

Here’s what I know for sure–repentance is impossible if you already think you’re God.

If all your ways are righteous in your own eyes, then you will fail to realize that your emotional soul may be desperately in dissaray or on the verge of disintegration.

Introspection is what the human race requires to survive and to make sure that we don’t kill each other off.

And the best way to allow for introspection is to permit banter, which is a “safe zone,” where suggestions or ideas for discussion can be hatched without blatantly or viciously attacking another person.

Yes, long before I tell you that I think you’re an ass, I could have relieved some pressure by asserting that “even a monkey could learn how to change the toilet paper roll.”

We think we become more civilized by saying the right thing all the time, when all we’ve done is set up a situation for saying what we really feel–at the wrong time.

  • I would much rather you would joke with me than insult me.
  • I would prefer that you would poke fun at my foolishness instead of gossiping about me behind my back.

Banter is the gentle comedy we use to steer our friends in a different direction, so we don’t have to intervene … and constantly send them to rehab. 

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Don’t let another Christmas go by without purchasing Jonathan’s bestselling Christmas book!

Mr. Kringle’s Tales … 26 Stories ‘Til Christmas

Click here to read all about Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories Til Christmas! Only $5.99 plus $1.25 shipping and handling.

Click here to read all about Mr. Kringle’s Tales…26 Stories Til Christmas! Only $5.99 plus $1.25 shipping and handling.

 

“The best Christmas stories I’ve ever read!”

From the toy shop to the manger, an advent calendar of Christmas stories, beginning on November 30th and ending on Christmas morning.

We need a good Christmas this year.

Mr. Kringle’s Tales will help you make it so.

Buy today.

"Buy