Tag Archives: whisper

Crass

Crass: (adj) without refinement, delicacy, or sensitivity; gross; obtuse; stupid

How does one write in such a way as to communicate that the thoughts being shared are in a whisper?

Great question, huh?funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Well, if you would imagine that I am whispering, I will tell you to calm your spirit and listen carefully.

There is one secret to life and one alone. It is the thing that prevents us from being crass.

After all, crass is when things go along real well until someone threatens our sacred cow, never actually having any intention of killing it.

And at this point, people argue. They challenge. They bicker. And more often than not, it ends in some uncomfortable stand-off, where the footing is slippery, and the grudges begin to ice up.

We are all crass until we learn one valuable idea:

Don’t be defensive.

If someone makes a statement in your direction that offends you, don’t immediately leap to share explanations of your motivations or calibrate the correct insult to fire back.

It is really what is meant by “turning the other cheek.” It is not allowing somebody to punch you and then giving them permission to beat the hell out of you. No, it is refusing to become defensive, and instead, measuring the moment to see if you want to put yourself in the middle of a lengthy discussion, or would rather just go home.

Candidly, wasting time is more aggravating than being insulted. Consider the source, consider your heart and soul, consider your time.

We become crass when we feel it is necessary to defend ourselves whenever anyone darkens our countenance with their disapproval.

But crass by its very nature always leads to an overblown objection that makes the other person defensive, and then two defensive people defend themselves until everybody’s offended.

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Clamor

Clamor: (n) a loud and confused noise, especially that of people shouting vehemently.

Is it possible to object without being objectionable?

Can we raise issues without raising our blood pressure?

Can we stimulate the conversation without stimulating the anger that inhibits reasoning?

Why do we clamor?

Do we secretly think we may be wrong, and the more we shout the less likely the exposure?

Are we obsessed with the notion that our much speaking actually affects the thinking of others?

When will we comprehend that the louder we get, the less power there is in what we say?

Why is cleverness dying?

Why is diplomacy viewed as weakness?

Why would people mock the notion that “a soft answer turns away wrath?”

When did sheer brute force convince our nation to pursue its prowess?

Is it possible to make such a convincing argument that it can be delivered in a whisper?

Does the proclamation, “change the world” have to be blared, or can it be delivered with an ironic smile?

The louder we get, the less is done.

The more intense we become, the less effective.

The reason the meek inherit the Earth is because the dominant, forceful and tribal leaders kill one another off–leaving behind the inheritance of an Earth that still needs to be reformed, but would prefer it be done with some gentleness.

I’m going to stop clamoring.

I shall no longer clamor.

To clamor is to annoy.

Do I really believe that? Do you really believe that?

Maybe we could start believing it together.

 

 

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Bronchitis

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bronchitis: (n) inflammation of the mucous membrane in the bronchial tubes.

Odd as it may seem, the only way to stay well is to have been sick enough to build up antibodies to protect you.Dictionary B

It’s a strange system, isn’t it?

But without equity, some of us would believe that being ill was a sign of God’s anger, while others would conclude that clear nasal passages were a divine authorization to act superior.

So we all get sick.

It’s all about the timing.

When I was in my twenties, I recorded an album in Nashville, Tennessee, that started to get some attention. That in itself was remarkable, but then, when our group was invited to perform at a huge festival, our producers were nearly ecstatic, and were sure that this was the stepping stone to give us the focus to launch our career.

We planned the set, rehearsed the material–and somewhere along the line in the process, I got bronchitis.

I was so congested, choked up and stuffed that I was unable to produce any sound from my voice beyond a harsh whisper.

I tried everything.

Hot steam, over-the-counter remedies, honey and lemon and various configurations of prayer.

I stubbornly refused to cancel the festival, deciding that I would heroically see it through–that somehow or another, God in His infinite wisdom would grant me voice at the last moment.

In front of thousands of people, I croaked out what could have been our hit song–had I not been “Froggy McFrog.”

It was embarrassing.

No–humiliating.

Even those who loved me didn’t want to be around me. It made them try to be nice–and they didn’t feel nice.

So to some degree, from that point on in my life (since I kind of make my living from my voice) I have become a Cold Nazi.

If a sniffle is in the room or a child is dripping nasal fluid all over the house, I run away in horror.

I am not proud of that.

But my bout with bronchitis did warn me about the danger … of not having a voice in the matter.

 

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Bodily

Bodily: (adj) of or concerning the body.

Dictionary B

Every piece of contradiction is held in place with a reverence to a little scrap of silliness that we’re frightened to abandon.

So in politics we accept lying because it is the silliness we believe holds the process together.

In entertainment, we talk about the “bottom line,” preaching the notion that the pieces of art we foster must make huge profits–otherwise they are not worthy of production.

Likewise, we lift high the silliness of “blind faith,” when it is our doubt that makes our spiritual experience rich with discovery and hope.

And finally, this certainly is true when we talk about bodily functions.

Everybody craps, pisses, farts, screws, sweats, stinks and has aches and pains.

But rather than finding the great commonality which might remove a lion’s share of foolish bigotry, we whisper about these bodily similarities for fear of offending those who somehow believe that the One who created us would find such talk “nasty.”

I have nothing against appropriate dialogue in given surroundings.

But as long as we are afraid of our bodies, we will generate a cloud of deceit to hide our human essence.

 

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Alarm

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Alarm: (n) 1. an anxious awareness of danger 2. the sound or warning of imminent danger

Do they still call it a fire drill?

I’m not sure.

When I was a kid, about every six or seven weeks, the school bell rang uncontrollably, and we were told to rise from our seats, get into single file and march out of the building into the awaiting parking lot in anticipation of what could have been a fire breaking out.

Of course, we all knew it was just a drill. A practice, if you will. But it was still a bit alarming to hear the bell, and delightful to be able to escape the world of desks, pens, paper and droning “teacher voices,” to go outside for a few minutes with your friends.

Of course, in the adult world, they had plans set in place to rectify that potential for pleasure.

You had to remain silent.

This was the same thing you were cautioned to do when standing in line for the cafeteria, gathering for an assembly or even finding your path to the bathroom.

Silence.

I realize now that we were never in danger of fire. And I’m not being critical of the craft of preparation. I understand it thoroughly and agree with the premise.

But the alarming part of the process of leaving our school, considering the potential for a blazing inferno, was actually the fact that we were taught to be non-social.

  • Couldn’t talk in class.
  • Couldn’t talk in the cafeteria.
  • And couldn’t talk on the way to the fire drill.

And then we wonder why human beings grow up sheltered, protected, suspicious and just downright cranky. After all, we’re not about to let our offspring chum with one another when we were forbidden to do so.

Yes, I would say the most alarming thing about hearing the alarm bell tell us to go to a fire drill, considering the alarming possibility of a burning school, was the fact that we weren’t allowed to be human and interactive.

I guess that’s true all over the world. I’m sure Chinese people discourage chattiness in their children just like Americans quell such outbursts. But I wonder if we lose something by being too alarmed.

Don’t we sacrifice the child-like instinct to enjoy ourselves, believe for the best and want to whisper interesting things to our neighbor?