Cud

Cud: (n) the portion of food that a ruminant returns from the first stomach to the mouth to chew a second time.

I am susceptible.

I don’t like to admit it.

Often, it’s why I refuse to watch medical shows or even programs of itinerant travelers who share experiences of strange lands, animals and diseases.

I buy in too easily.

Such a thing happened to me short years ago. In my ongoing pursuit to remove the mythology of my obesity and supposedly create the human-flesh-muddle that I’m meant to be, I listened to a young, slender woman (my first mistake) expound upon the importance of chewing your food at least twenty times before swallowing.

She explained that this not only made digestion easier, but also that chewing at for such an extended period of time caused us to eat less, and therefore promoted weight loss.

In that moment–in my flurry of passion and with her apt representation– she was able to convince me to try. She closed off her discourse by highlighting that animals like the cow chew their cud over and over again until it is just a mushy mess of drippy liquid, which they then gulp.

Surviving her vivid description, I sat down to my dinner that night and decided to pursue my own cud chewing.

I quickly realized that my normal number of chews for consumption was four or five.

I was still comfortable with eight chews.

At twelve I had to take my mind to a faraway place to keep insanity from ensuing.

When I finally reached twenty and tried to swallow, nothing happened. (All the little gushy, mushy pieces had already snuck down my throat to the stomach to the awaiting stomach).

Yet faithful pilgrim that I am, I continued this practice for an entire meal.

It was exhausting—so tiring it was that at the end of the feast, I found myself needing energy—starved.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

Critique

Critique: (v) to review or analyze

I can’t remember exactly which adjective it is that is thrust in front of “critique” to make it bearable.

Is it beneficial? Helpful? Eye-opening?

Whatever word it is they force in at gun point as a prefix to “critique” to rationalize the fussiness is absolutely ridiculous.

The best way to get along with human beings is to realize they are human.

Then have a working comprehension of what that means.

Basically, we are capable of almost anything if instructed well and encouraged. And we can be murderous if someone wishes to discourage us or give us a critique.

Although we are taught to thank people for their insightful comments, the human heart is geared for praise, which is why it is so susceptible to deception. I suppose we could work on changing that and perhaps we should.

But this is my belief about commenting on people’s efforts, work, art or lives–I call it the fish and bones approach.

Just like you do when you decide to dine on seafood after having hooked one on your line, you carefully pick out the meat and you meticulously leave behind the bones.

It takes a little longer, but it’s better than swallowing the bones or throwing away the entire fish in disgust because it dared to include them.

The same is true with people.

Living on this earth at the same time as you, people have the right and privilege of being handled just as gently as we do our fish dinner.

Find what they do that is meaty.

Leave the bones.

And maybe pretend they aren’t even there.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 


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Contagious

Contagious: (adj) ability to spread from one person or organism to another by direct or indirect contact.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands. It’s flu season.”

“I don’t know if I want to go to church–so many sick people.”funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

“Seems like everybody’s got the bug.”

“Wash down those counters.”

“Clean off that toilet sink.”

“Don’t forget to pick up some more hand sanitizer–maybe we should start buying it by the case.”

All of these statements seem rational to the average consumer, because we feel it is our right to be the sole individual who does not get sick–never aware that we will be more susceptible to that sickness if we’re never exposed to it, developing the protective antibodies within us.

I personally do not see anything wrong with trying to keep oneself healthy. But once we begin to think that human beings are germ carriers, it is a slippery slope to proclaiming them dangerous, infected, criminal, rapists or even worthless.

If you are afraid of the flu, that is absolutely fine with me. If you’re using your fear of the flu to establish your superiority over other people because you are so important that you shouldn’t ever get sick, then I begin to have a problem.

I see no case in the Good Book when Jesus embraced a leper to prove he was not afraid of the contagion. But I do see that when that leper wanted to be healed, Jesus risked touching him.

 

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Blockhead

Blockhead: (n) a stupid person.

Dictionary B

  • I have been stupid.
  • I am presently stupid but unaware.
  • I will certainly be stupid again.

If you find fault with these ideas, then you are susceptible to being a blockhead.

Blockheads are people who are convinced that their concrete thinking is safe and reasonable, only to discover that they are out of step with reality and condemned by common sense.

So if you are looking for companionship, fellowship, relationship or any particular boat to take you across the sea of difficulty–or tranquility–keep in mind that intelligent people are fully aware of three abiding truths:

1. I am capable of being wrong.

2. Since I know that, I’m looking for ways to catch myself before “stupid” throttles me.

3. I am so busy with my own “stupid” that I must trust that you will take care of yours.

If you are with people who do not believe these three things, be prepared to constantly take your pickaxe of argument to their blockhead of stubbornness.

 

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Archaeology

dictionary with letter A

Archaeology: (n) the study of human history and prehistory through the excavation of sites and the analysis of artifacts

I am susceptible.

I am a product of my times and therefore the word “archaeology” conjures images of Indiana Jones and his whip.

I am ready to freely admit how shallow I am before you decide to dive in.

But also, I have found the subject of archaeology to be fascinating–that digging up objects from a former culture can tell us about their lifestyle and choices. Honestly, it more illuminates our study on what they were presently using when they went bye-bye and what that substance was made of, which enabled it to survive the span of time.

It caused me to think about the things that surround me.

Obviously, the elements in my life that would push through to another era are mostly made of plastic. So anyone studying me or my culture eons from now would contend that we were a generation that was obsessed with containers, bottles and all sorts of paraphernalia. For all of our papers would turn to dust; glass would be crushed and not survive.

Yes, in a thousand years, if they dug up our defunct civilization, they would ascertain that we really liked plastic and that most of it was formed into gadgets.

So comically, an alarm clock might survive, which would lead the archaeologist to conclude that we were a very efficient society, living off the clock, and probably extraordinarily productive.

If they found one of our computers, which survived the press, they would report that we were an intellectual culture, always chasing down the truth.

Gone would be:

  • The wrappers from our fast food
  • The pages from our silly magazines
  • And the most recent creams and salves we favor to prevent oldness, baldness and impotency.

So I have to admit I’m a little suspicious of archaeology. Just because something survives being buried does not mean it was predominant in the social structure of the time.

For after all, in a thousand years … what will be left of reality shows and the Kardashians?

 

 

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Angel

dictionary with letter A

 

Angel: (n.) a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger from God, typically represented in human form with wings and a long robe.

Perhaps the accusation could be made that I am a soul who is susceptible to suggestion.

  • For if I watch a television show about weight loss, I become determined to pursue at least twelve hours of frugal eating.
  • Viewing a football game makes me want to toss the old pigskin.
  • And going to church makes me want to believe in a God of love, a Jesus of compassion and angels of mercy.

While others debate the existence of divine creatures, or even become vehement in their attacks or defense, I find this boring. Here’s what I think:

If there are no such things as angels, then we should pretend to be them.

If there is no Jesus who loves children and touches the lepers, why not impersonate him?

And for some reason, if God does not exist–a Father which is in heaven for the human race–then maybe it might be nice, in a small way, to comfort the fatherless.

Religion, to me, is not believing in the supernatural, but instead, taking the natural world around me and trying to do something super with it.

Will I be disappointed if I find out there are no angels? Not really–because I’ve read enough about them that I can steal their profile and try, in my miniscule way, to be angelic to my fellow humans.

Wouldn’t it be interesting if it turns out that the key to life is how well we imitate good things, and that our little performances actually become the only representation of the heavenly tale? Weird, huh?

Anyway, I think angels are cool–proclaiming messages of hope, helping out folks who are hungry, having a good word for those in despair, and arriving at just the right moment to do the right thing.

Since angels are cool and I like to be cool, I will continue to take on the role to the best of my stumbling ability.

Likewise, I will be a big, fat bald Jesus to those I meet.

And if necessary, I will come down from a theological perch of understanding and offer my shoulder to those who are crying … just like any good god should.

 

 

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