Complacent: (adj) showing smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one’s achievements

Sometimes we forget the Earth is still evolving.

Because it doesn’t go on television, shout and scream, nor advertise itself unashamedly on the Internet, we believe that the Earth did its Darwin thing and decided to settle down somewhere near Naples, Florida, for a good, well-deserved retirement.

But the truth of the matter is, the Earth may be old in years, but it is constantly going through its “terrible twos.” It is a demanding toddler, requiring our funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cattention–otherwise it starts breaking things.

So even though the word “complacent” is normally considered to represent a negative emotion, connoting that one does not care, a bit of complacency is in order so we don’t come across thinking we are in charge.

I, for one, am complacent on the weather.

I know how to buy gear for the various threats and precipitation, so rather than studying it, cursing it or attempting to pray it away, I allow my emotions and soul to develop a needful numbness with a twinge of gratitude.

I am complacent on race.

Since it doesn’t make any difference and it’s foolish to talk about it, I will play like I’m mentally challenged when it’s brough up in front of me, because I don’t want to accidentally pop off something from my erroneous training, nor foolishly present myself as Mr. Universal.

Other areas where I’m complacent:

  • Gay rights
  • Abortion
  • Heaven
  • Hell
  • Chauvinism
  • And rising prices at the grocery store

Since most of these things do not affect me–and if they do affect me, they are completely beyond my control–any fretting, opinions or stomping on my part will be useless.

There is a wonderful phrase which I often remind myself of whenever I’m tempted to be engaged: “Be still and know that I am God.”

If there is a Being named God, and He has created a Universe, my stirrings are comical at best, and at worst, aggravating.


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Balmy:(adj) pleasantly warm weather.Dictionary B

I will take the risk of speaking ideals. (After all, being idealistic is a tedious journey to frustration. At least when you’re pessimistic, you’ve already arrived.)

But taking a chance on musing the magnificent, let me say that when it comes to the subject of weather, I find the perfect to be simple.

It should never be so hot–or balmy–that you’re sitting without moving, and sweating.

Likewise, it should never be so cold that while sitting, you shiver.

Whatever that temperature may be in whatever climate or particular nation, there is the ideal.

Because even though I have found myself in regions which are deemed to be tropical paradises, they were always infested with bugs, buzzing things, and sweat.

  • Yes, the sun is warm.
  • Yes, the sky is blue.
  • And yes, I am melting.

Likewise, growing up in the Midwest, there were four or five months during the year when I either needed to grow fur or cover myself with it. I could not go outside without freezing and once inside, found it difficult to thaw out at an adequate pace.

So without being a complainer, I will tell you that for about two or three weeks every year–in whatever area of the country–I escape the perspiration of balmy and the icicles of frigid, and find the ability to sit and enjoy the air without interruption or being accosted by insects and snow.


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