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Real or Created?
January 31^st, 2010

I don’t particularly like okra. It’s kind of weird, too, because I like almost every other vegetable, even though I do tend to segregate my cooked carrots out of my vegetable medley. No—it’s really okra. And I’ll eat it, if it’s, like, dissolved into a really tasty bowl of gumbo. But okra just leaves me cold. It’s a vegetable that tries too hard. And because of that, people try too hard to make it pleasing. They pickle it. They bread it. They fry it. They stick it in all sorts of stuff. No, not a big okra fan. Funny shape, too. Did I mention that? Looks like a baby corn with a hat. But anyway. I don’t particularly care for okra.

So let’s say I die. Or better phrased, when I die, my children, who are fully aware of my preference, inherit an okra farm. Inherit?? It’s practically given to them. How could they turn it down? So because they love me, they want to name the farm after me—the “Jonathan Okra Farm.”

Well, it occurs to one of my children that I didn’t particularly like okra. But one of the more astute and clever members of the household point out that maybe I just never had “good” okra, like what they would be harvesting, and that I certainly would want them to have a successful business AND would be thrilled to be remembered by my children by being honored by having that same business named after me.

Well, after a couple of generations have worked on the Jonathan Okra Farm, people wouldn’t even remember that I didn’t like okra. Matter of fact, it would be assumed that since I have an okra farm named after me, that I must have been a large proponent of the oddly-shaped vegetable. Couple of more generations pass, and I become the King of Okra—the prince of all things grown—primarily okra. Of course, it would be important to negate all references I might have made in my lifetime about my displeasure of the green, gooey, slimy mess called a vegetable. But that’s easily done. Just focus on the times that I did eat vegetables, therefore planting the assumption that okra must have been included.

Yes, within five hundred years, there would be no memory of my distaste of okra, just an ongoing evidence of my reigning superiority and divine desire for all things okra. The only problem is, I didn’t like okra.

It’s another Sunday in the United States of America . I have a friend named Jesus who didn’t like religion. He despised hypocrisy. He abhorred vain repetition in religious worship. He became angry at people who judged other people. He dismissed worship and refused to even be called “good” by those around him. He insisted that all pursuits of God had to be sensitive to human need. He ignored the Sabbath in favor of healing. He drank, he ate, he was a friend of sinners, and religious people absolutely despised him.

Are you ready for the weird thing? Today he is the Prince of All Pious and the King of Religion. His disciples didn’t mean any harm. They were so anxious to see the message spread, they allowed it to be tainted by human effort instead of spiritual flavor. The end result is, our friend Jesus, who was anything but a religionist, has become the icon of religion.

Weird, huh?

It’s almost like somebody needs to come forward and remind us that Jesus did not like religion. Kind of scary to do, though, since you might have several billion people yelling back at you and disagreeing. But it doesn’t change the facts. And it doesn’t change the story.

So you have to decide if you’re going to worship the Jesus who really walked the earth, or the one we’ve created to walk the earth now to fulfill our religious inclinations.

So what will it be? Don’t ask me.

I hate okra.

Don and John
January 30^th, 2010

Two men—one named Don and one named John. One wanted to be President of the United States . One is the pastor of a church in Lucedale , Mississippi —a town with a population of less than four thousand.

One traveled around in jets, trying to get voted into power. The other one has been on a jet, but rarely, and isn’t that concerned about power.

One claims to be a family man. The other actually is.

One has high-sounding ideals and believes that he, himself, is at the center of the mission and is the energy behind those virtues. The other honors high-sounding ideals, and proves the validity of his respect by living them out in his everyday life.

One thinks he is needed to cause the movement to occur. The other believes that he has been honored to even be considered part of the movement.

One tells news reporters that he believes in God. The other believes in God so much that he sets out to report the news.

One thought he was so handsome and debonair that he could get away with lying about infidelity and cheating on his wife and the American people. The other one spends a bit more time in front of the mirror and knows his weaknesses, so grabs on to the people he loves and honors his family and his congregation by staying faithful.

One believes he is important. The other knows what is important.

One thinks he is on a mission to change the world. The other one works on himself, and helps other people discover the change they need in their lives.

One is nationally known, and now, nationally disgraced. The other one is probably known by less than three thousand people all over the world. But his vision and passion are intact.

One thinks he’s handsome. The other knows better.

One thinks he is smart. The other one is in a constant learning mode.

One thinks he’s great. And the other one knows who really IS great.

Both men have passion. One uses his passion to advance his own agenda. One takes his passion and finds the agenda for the common good, and does his little part to make it happen.

I saw two men tonight—one named Don, living in Lucedale , Mississippi , with a fire in his eyes and a joy in his soul. The other, named John, who wanted to be President, but thought everything that came across his path belonged to him.

Both men. Both human. Both could do great things. The difference? The one who lives in Mississippi just kept it simple.

Congressmen in Alphabetical Order
January 29^th, 2010

Not having any particular political bend or affiliation to a party, I was able to listen to the State of the Union address from our President without any prejudice, misconceptions or need to root for his success.

I just listened. And I watched. Sometimes I listen to see if what I’m hearing matches what I’m seeing, because much of the discourse was about unity, the greatness of America , and non-partisanship. One of my great beefs in life is when righteousness sinks to the lowly position of mere platitude. Great values like “love your neighbor as yourself” become merely decoupaged plaques and hung in the homes of the pious instead of being enacted feverishly and fervently by excited disciples.

This same thing holds for non-Partisanship. As I watched I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as words of reconciliation filled the air in a hall stuffed to the brim with people who had already formed their opinions long before they came into the room. And to accentuate that, the Republicans sat on the right hand side of the room and the Democrats sat on the left side of the room.

So as our President shared his concepts of unity for a common cause, the room itself reeked of partisanship and the seating chart was conceived by an overly zealous separation of our elected leaders.

Here’s where we start, Mr. President. If our politicians and our legislators are going to act like children, or they’re going to be adolescent in their approach to one another, we just need to change the seating chart. That’s what we do in the schoolhouse. When Johnny and Billy can’t sit next to each other because when they do, they fall into fits of naughtiness, we just put Janie between them. And the problem goes away.

Our Congress can no longer be allowed to sit in its little high school cliques of agreement and coolness while we pledge the pursuit of non-partisanship. Let’s start with a simple visual: our Congressmen and Senators, from this point on, will sit in the chamber in alphabetical order.

No one can gang up on anyone else, because a Republican will more than likely be sitting next to a Democrat. They will have to sit there and listen and decide for themselves instead of catching a side-glance from a bullying leader.

Yes. It’s really simple. So simple that they will object to it and call it childish, punitive or just unacceptable. That’s fine. They can just not attend. And we will gladly put their names on the screen at the end of the speech as non-participants in the evening’s activities.

I get told where to sit. They may let me choose between a booth or a table, but then they take me there. I go to the DMV? Seating is provided. And there is good reason for it. The only way to prevent preference and to procure fairness is to create a seating chart. Until we can eyeball that our elected officials are willing to sit next to each other, plant themselves near an opponent, and interact physically with people who disagree with them without having to enter some sort of high-school-style cultism of cool, we as a people will certainly not be able to take anything they do seriously, or believe that they’re out for the common good.

Yes, it is a very simple idea. Seat the Congress and the Senate alphabetically and make them learn to play well together. If they don’t want to do this, vote them out, because quite bluntly, I find no solace in any political party or philosophy. I believe in the sanctity of individual believers who step out and try to find both personal victory and corporate possibilities in everyday life. But if we’re going to be hounded by politics and plagued by voting, then our representatives should be willing to embody not only us, but good common sense in being willing, as mature adults, to sit in the midst of their critics and those who disagree with them.

Without this, the cruel charade continues and we all become complicit in its dastardly deception. And what is the deception? We talk a good game but everybody continues to sit on the bench.

I don’t care if they sit on the bench. I just want them to do it in alphabetical order.

The only revenge that works is forgiveness
January 28^th, 2010

Revenge is complete.

We have taken a word which seemingly has a negative meaning and have turned it into the powerhouse it was intended to be. Maybe you don’t like the word “revenge” but the human spirit requires it. But revenge is never achieved by hurting those who hurt us, or by destroying those who attempt to destroy us.

Forgiveness is a gift for me with a side for thee. Love is a gift to me with a side for thee. Success is a gift to me with a side for thee. Giving is a gift to me with a side for thee.

Teaching that the life, times and philosophy of Jesus is a message for the downtrodden, rejected and those less accomplished not only removes the energy of the principles, but takes away the clientele that are able to enact the manifesto. Jesonian, the mind of Jesus, is not for those people who are willing to be defeated by the circumstances of either their birth or their environment. It is the daily bread for those souls who desire to be masters, but understand that servant-hood is the portal to the mansion. It IS the message for those who take the lower seat because they know they will be called up higher by doing so. It is manipulating our surroundings for the betterment of all. Unforgiveness is what stymies human beings in a state of feeling insufficient, therefore rendering them incompetent.

One night nearly thirty years ago, my son, Joshua Paul, was struck by a car. Justice was impossible because the driver of the car slipped away, yet forgiveness was necessary to transform a tragedy into a miracle. I had to flesh out my own desire. Ever since that night I have spent my life purposefully sharing my faults and inadequacies with others so these foibles will not do damage to any human soul. I take that success of candor and transparency and I flush my brain with images of how it is possible to live an open life without fear. Those images in my mind heal the unclean blotches on my spirit caused by unrepentant, unrectified and unsatisfied encounters with human beings. And my spirit gives my emotions fresh permission to approach each and every new living creature with hope instead of preconceived ideas. And if a jerk like me can do it, just think how successful you’ll be.

But do not be deceived. Daily devotionals, prayer, Bible studies, laying on of hands and counseling will not free you of the burden of insecurity and frustration caused by interaction with life and your fellow-man. You need revenge. And the only revenge that works is forgiveness. And the only forgiveness that works is to flesh out your desire, flush your brain with images of success, flash the light on your unclean spirit and give fresh permission to the emotions in your heart—to feel again.

Someone once said “revenge is a dish best served cold.” Not so.

It is the hottest item we can offer for our own salvation . . . and as a gift to others.

Forgiveness must be fresh
January 27^th, 2010

Forgiveness is not, and I repeat—NOT—a gracious gift we impart to our adversary to free him from guilt and responsibility. Rather, it is a self-inflicted blessing, granting us the opportunity to continue our journey of good cheer, uninterrupted.

When forgiveness is presented as an act of sacrificial charity, it becomes as unappealing as a buffet line ten minutes before closing. It may seem like a good idea, but it’s just not very appetizing. But since forgiveness is such an intricate part of our beings—perhaps even the central theme of what it means to be spiritual—there has to be a way for us to forgive that has enough self-motivation in it to charm us into achieving its purposes.

That’s why I believe that all forgiveness begins by dealing with our bodies, and fleshing out what we desire, then allowing that delightful experience to flush the brain with images of success. The mind can then flash the light on the unclean spirit that has been tarnished by the experience. The spirit, given new life, is then able to come and bring comfort, wisdom and understanding to the heart.

What is the heart? The heart is the battleground of the human experience. As often as possible, we need to declare a truce, so emotion can be provided a chance to cavort. It was Jesus who said that “out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.” I know people wish they could speak from their spirits and be extraordinarily noble or ethereal in all matters of conversation, but we don’t. We don’t even speak from our brain, garnering all the available knowledge and place it in great sentences for proclamation. We are emotional speakers and emotional creatures, who need to have a heart that is free of prejudice, anxiety and painful memory.

So what can the recently-cleaned spirit do to give the heart a rebirth? The spirit does what the spirit is supposed to do. It passes along the knowledge provided, with just a little bit of supernatural energy. The spirit calms the emotions by telling those feelings that we have already won the battle because we have proven and acted out how things could have been done better. The heart is given fresh permission to feel again.

Fresh. Is there a better word? Something that is so original it has yet to be tasted. Something that is so new that the umbilical cord has yet to be cut. Fresh.

The reason many people are never able to approach their lives with excitement is because they are not given a fresh heart from their spirit—which has recently become clean. When the emotions are given the opportunity to be fresh again, every experience is new. “Behold, all things become new,” is what the Bible says. New wine. New wineskins. New cloth. New life. How do we know that a fresh heart is beating within our completed being?

We stop insisting that everything we come across resembles something we’ve done before.
We lose our suspicion in favor of adventure.
We realize that defeat is not the end of our lives, so we cease to be afraid to try new things.
We look forward to possibilities instead of nervously dreading them.
The emotional lift in our spirit energizes our minds and rejuvenates our bodies.
We cease to judge by the outward appearance—or at least try to.
Because we have a pure heart, we begin to see the hand of God in everything we do.

The heart is given fresh permission to feel again. This welcomes the child-like to replace the childish.

And once again, we can begin to trust the abundance of our heart . . . to speak for us.

Forgive by Four-Give
January 26^th, 2010

Forgive by four-give—first, to flesh out the way it should have been. Four times, is my suggestion, just to affirm in your own being that it can be done. Don’t duplicate in yourself the harm. Replicate the desire you require.

That process leads to flushing the brain with images of success to replace the disappointment. The brain is really simple. Prove that you’ve got more evidence to one side than the other, and it surrenders the point.

But the next step is really miraculous, because usually it’s the spirit that renews the mind with new and inventive ideas. But in matters of forgiveness, the mind humbly has to come to the spirit with reason to minister to its soulful needs. Why? Because everybody tries to forgive through their spirit and ends up, most of the time, producing a false peace that leaves a bruise behind—and that bruise becomes an unclean spirit.

There are many of us walking around with unclean spirits because a forced fit of forgiveness has left us lying to ourselves, with a blemish on our true spirituality. What does the brain do? The brain just flashes a light on the unclean spirit that has produced defensiveness. Yes—that is why most people are defensive if you even suggest to them that some change might be required in their lives. A process of forgiveness that was begun in their spirit was never completed, leaving them feeling unclean, yet unwilling to admit it. So how do I know that I have unforgiveness that has caused an unclean spirit?

I need to believe in something that makes me feel better than other people.
I am not looking for reasons to agree with others.
I’m always trying to please God instead of walking in His pleasure.
I’m resistant to change.
My mind wanders because my spirit is confused.
I am suspicious.
My prayers are complaints.

When we get into this condition, it is up to our brain, which has recently been flushed by the fleshing out of success, to flash the light. And what is the light? The light is when we turn to our bruised and unclean spirit and say, “Spirit, I am so sorry that I asked you to bury the pain.”

This flash of light is all the spirit needs. Because once the uncleanness is lit up and exposed, it can be confessed and released.

So have you followed it so far? We flesh out the way it should have been. We flush the brain with images of success. And we flash some light on our unclean, bruised spirit.

Then the spirit, with nothing more to prove, is prepared to minister to the emotions—the heart of the matter.

Remind
January 25^th, 2010

RE-MIND.

Renewal—to once again use the brain for more creative purposes than merely excavating our pain. How?

We know we’re supposed to forgive. Psychologists and religionists have turned it into a pursuit of either the emotional or the spiritual realms of our being. No wonder so many people are taking anti-depressants and drowning their sorrows in a bottle, or eating themselves to death.

Here’s the bottom line: everything bad that happens to us has to be worked out first through the body—followed by a mind trip.

Do you see how the two work together? The only way to refresh ourselves and to allow for forgiveness to occur is that we must give our brain a bath. Interesting.

Some people say it takes positive thinking, but positive thinking is only achieved after the power of doing. It is DOING that creates the energy to renew the mind. You remember, yesterday I told you that four times you should act out what needed to have been done for you, as visible proof that it was not only possible, but a much better choice had your adversary taken two minutes to think it over. What does your brain do? Your brain takes those four images of the empowerment of your success and literally washes itself. Yes—awash with images.

Somewhere along the line we’ve convinced ourselves that the brain is fed by knowledge. Knowledge, to the brain, is similar to spam and pop-up ads to a computer. It inundates with advertisement but doesn’t necessarily enlighten with wisdom. What washes the brain are images of our efforts bringing results. That’s why all forgiveness must begin with an action of replicating your desire, instead of duplicating the infraction done to you by others, therefore washing the brain with images of hope. It scrubs our thinking with ideas of charity ad creativity--because our mind-set is best cleansed through effort.

I have people walk up to me all the time and tell me they want to be something, and then they mention their particular goal. I often ask them, “What are you doing about it?” The answer is always the same. “Just waiting for my opportunity.” News flash. There is no such thing, folks, as opportunity. There is just the next thing that happens, which we tenderly mold into a substance and possibility that resembles what we desire it to be.

If you write, write. If you’re a carpenter, get some wood. If you’re a singer, sing. If you’re a truck driver, get behind the wheel. Transform your circumstance into your next possibility, because honest to God, after our brain is awash with images, it is cleansed through effort. The removal of effort from the human experience is like taking food from the brain. It starves us of the nutrients necessary to think better.

And once we’re awash with images of our redemptive approaches towards forgiveness, and cleansed through the effort of doing what we know to do that resembles our dreams, the brain gives us a great gift. It rinses itself in good cheer. Endorphins are released from the labor and love, and we feel better. We feel alive. We feel that there is reasoning to our journey. We sense that not only can things be accomplished, but we’ve already begun.

This is how forgiveness begins. We first flesh out the solution in our actions, which allows us to flush out the negativity and hurt in our minds. We get a chance to RE-MIND—renew new thinking in the midst of the healing.

Now the mind is ready to turn with freshness—and doctor the wounded spirit.

FORGIVE
January 24^th, 2010

To err is human—to forgive, divine.

You see, here’s the problem. I need to forgive, too, and I’m not divine. I’m a human being. God does not ask me to be anything else, and discourages my attempts toward divinity.

So to forgive, as a human, I must four-give.

What I mean is, I need to involve all four parts of my being in the process: heart, soul, mind and strength. Yet, let us realize that good and bad comes to us through our hearts and goes to our souls, processes through our minds and manifests in our bodies. But to dispel the darkness, pain and evil that come our way, the process must be reversed. We can’t put on a charade of forgiveness, quoting scriptures or forcing mind over matter, and think there is a legitimate cleansing of the iniquity.

I have to start in my body. My body has to reject the disappointment, the pain and the anger for the healing to begin. How can I do that?

1. I will not tote the load. I will no longer allow my physical being to be depressed, sickened or de-energized by the indiscretion and sin that was committed against me. I will not carry it on my back any more. I will announce this aloud to my friends and family and tell them to inform me when I am walking “uptight” instead of upright.

2. I will not duplicate my disappointment in my actions to others. Contrary to popular opinion, human beings require revenge. Some individuals may not like the choice of the word, but revenge does not mean that we plan on doing exactly the same thing to someone else that was done to us. Revenge means that we require satisfaction, justice and an accounting of the books before healing can begin. This cannot be achieved by merely duplicating the stupidity that was done to us in the life of another. When we do exactly to other people what was done to us, we honor the stupidity and give place to the transgression and credence to its power, rather than dismissing it as meaningless and useless. I will not duplicate my disappointment.

3. Instead, I will replicate my desire. I will get my revenge. There shall be a vengeance because I will act out, visibly and physically in front of other folks, what should have been done to or for me. And I will do it four times. What is the significance of four times? It’s one more than three. It’s the cherry on top of the sundae. It’s the physical satisfaction of knowing that not only could I have been treated better—not only was it humanly possibly—but four times I was able to achieve it without breaking a sweat..

4. And finally, I will take the jubilant energy of my righteous vengeance and plant the seed of my personal affirmation and victory in my brain. Yes, I will

Nothing is Easy
January 23^rd, 2010

Let me see if I got this straight.

Republicans are a party of individuals who desire to return to a simpler time when there was less government, more personal initiative and higher moral ground to stand on to build a family, motivate a nation and foster a common good. Undoubtedly the problem with this group is that the time machine of life has no reverse gear.

Democrats, on the other hand, view themselves as forward-thinking individuals who want to see into the future and project what will be the needs of our society, and even our planet in a time yet unexplored. In their case, they have a tendency to begin missions and set goals that are often poorly planned, not taking into consideration the present moment’s needs, and ending up ill-founded or certainly ill-funded.

Then there are Independents. They, having no real party of their own, sit around and philosophize, even occasionally mocking the other two parties, often appearing to be much more clever, even though they have no prospects of being able to have either the initiative or position to change matters.

That’s about the way it is, right?

Actually—no. No, what you just read is a pithy, clever, sound-byte explanation by a writer trying to impress you with his style and insight. We have become a generation of second-guessers, Monday-morning quarterbacks and frightened children, terrified to be the next one to run the gauntlet and be criticized by the classmates.

Here’s the truth: nothing is easy. Some things are just so important that they need to be attempted even though they’re hard. And quite bluntly, no one’s good at hard. That’s why they call it hard. No one’s going to succeed the first time. A second attempt is going to seem futile and a third will only bring a glimmer of hope. But some things are so important they can’t be ignored. Some things are just so desperately needed that they can’t be placed into committee. Some human need is so prevalently upon us that we cannot afford to delay in order to procure better organization.

When we find those things and we discover they aren’t easy, what creates leadership are people who are willing to become foolish for a good cause. The Apostle Paul called it “fools for Christ’s sake.”

Yes—because nothing is easy but some things are too important to ignore, the learning curve will certainly resemble a roller-coaster, but it still has to be done.

And I will tell you that nothing constructive will be done in this country until the political parties are eliminated in favor of issue-oriented candidates elected for a particular season to perform a specific function.

And I will certainly inform you that nothing spiritual will ever happen in our world until religion is exposed for both its excesses, oppressions and hypocrisies.

So when will this happen? I will refrain from giving you a perfunctory response. But I would guess it will happen about fifteen minutes after we all come to the conclusion that nothing is easy, but some things are just so important that they need to be done—even though they’re hard.

The Crunch Bunny Test is completed!
January 22^nd, 2010

The Crunch Bunny Test is completed!

The special mingling of sadness and silliness that I feel at this point is probably the sensation that God experienced after He made human beings.

Yes. I and I alone, have created the Crunch Bunny Test. It was not put together to discriminate against people, nor even to be critical of myself, but to give each other a break. For all of us, there are occasions when we are not fit to be heard or recognized as a viable source of information.

Sometimes when we’re driving, we forget that our car has windows and people can see the frustration and evil creeping out of our claws as we clutch the wheel.

And there are occasions when we’re eating that we’re also fussy, and we should be placed in the dessert for forty days, fasting, with nothing to do but count the lizards as they pass by. At that point, our input is marginal.

And there are moments when we wake up and Mr. Hyde has not yet departed from Dr. Jeckyl’s body, and we need a good grooming of both soap and soul before we are permissible to become a touchstone to our fellow-man…and woman, for that matter.

And honestly, when our prayers and our beliefs in God become wedges against our fellow-man instead of levers to lift burdens, we should probably avoid being the foreman at the job site.

And finally, pressure—which is what Mother Nature uses to turn sand into rock—unfortunately often transforms us into either sniveling cowards or squalling babies. Can we really be held accountable for any words which would proceed from our mouths at that point?

After fifty-eight years of life, I realize the greatest expression of love is knowing when to ignore people you care about, understanding it’s a bad moment, and not hold them accountable for their opinions or words. That’s what I believe about God. Having made us human, and knowing we’re human, and reveling in our humanity, He is never shocked by the fact that we act human. We are the ones who want to be God-like, and expect everyone around us to be our special angelic entourage.

It’s the Crunch Bunny Test—and if your friend or yourself, on any given day, fail three out of five of them, go out in the kitchen and make your favorite sandwich, get a cold glass of iced tea, and sit down. Read something or watch television until the giggle returns to the gaggle of your problems, because quite honestly, you are not fit for man or beast. So don’t try to saddle up either one.

The Crunch Bunny Test—sometimes when the crunch comes, we all act like silly bunnies. The only trouble is, if you’re not careful, rabbits will really multiply quickly.

The Crunch Bunny Test...Pressure
January 21^st, 2010

Pressure.

I’ve never heard it brought up in a positive sense. “I was under so much pressure that I did my best work.” Doesn’t everyone know that without some form of pressure or sense of urgency, very little gets done? It would not be the only case in life where something that ends up being beneficial to us is, at the onset, deemed to be cantankerous or even useless. Pressure.

Someone asked me the other day which I felt was stronger—good or evil. I replied, “Neither.”

They said, “What do you mean?”

I said, “There’s a force that supersedes both good and evil. And that is perseverance. So when good is more perseverant, it wins. And when evil musters endurance, unfortunately, it is crowned the victor.”

Pressure is formed by the need to achieve a quick solution in a situation which we know, deep in our hearts, requires more time. If we will just allow ourselves the time to fail, discover, reinvent, input, debate, enact and reorganize, we will never feel pressure at all.

But pressure is one of those points where we either choose to complain or comply. Yes—comply. It’s a great word. And when it’s done at the right moment, it is the most powerful force in discovering solution.

Two great words: give in.

Give in the silliness that you’re going to achieve your goal in the time framework originally set up. Give in the pride of proving your point. Give in the frustration of coming off as the continual winner. Give in the control of being the only one that inputs the opportunity. Give in the insensitivity that causes aggravation, fostering inefficiency. Give in.

Sometimes it’s important just to say, “This is not going to happen” instead of spending all of your time spinning your wheels, looking for someone to blame for why things did not turn out the way you hoped. I think the most mature statement that can be made is to say, with a smile on your face, “Well, this is not going to happen.” Because otherwise, a complaining spirit angers both your peace of mind and the divine will of God.

Indeed, I look at how people handle pressure, and if their response is frustration, complaining, giving blame to others, or just a general decomposition of their will to move on, I cease to listen to their opinion.

Giving in is not giving up. It’s just refusing to believe that life sucks. Life does not suck. Life is just a bit more difficult than we thought it was going to be, and therefore, needs a little loving attention.

Pressure—another one of those merging of words: press and sure.

And if we would just realize that the press of life is as sure as the next rising sun, we could bypass the cranial pressure, the heart attack and the spiritual debilitation caused by becoming the doomsday sayer.

The Crunch Bunny Test...Waking Up and God Stuff
January 20^th, 2010

Driving and eating. Or eating while you’re driving. Or driving yourself somewhere to eat. Or eating and driving yourself to obesity. Oh, well.

The first two elements in the Crunch Bunny Test: tell me how someone’s going to react while they’re driving or while they’re eating, and if complaint slips in, beware. They may still be lovely people, family, or even your spouse, but their opinion at that point, is jaded by the presence of grouchiness. Which leads to the next two phases of assessing the Crunch Bunny.

Waking up. I know it’s popular to establish in our generation that we are not a “morning people.” But I do think it’s time that someone challenged the fallacy of copping out just because we don’t want to deal with the notion of getting up in the morning. Look at it this way—you just got hours of sleep, resting on a comfortable American bed, in a temperature-controlled room, with maybe some music playing in the background, or a sound machine, or just the bliss of silence. Now you awaken and decide to be grumpy. I think it is one of the most self-indulgent, egocentric actions that we allow one another to perform under the guise of a “personality trait.”

People who get up in the morning complaining, in my opinion, rarely improve that much by two o’clock in the afternoon. They think they do. They would insist the quality of their personality and work has heightened. But once you allow criticism to indwell your mind cavity, it is difficult to chase the little boogers of negativism out just because you’ve awashed your brain with coffee.

In like manner, let’s talk about praying and God stuff. If you’re going to have a belief in God, and you’re going to work under the supposition that you can talk to Him through prayer, I just don’t think the by-product of that should be a general bitch session. If you’re talking to the Divine about the condition of the world and what you plan on doing about it, and you know He is the Creator of that world, and your prayers and devotions are laced with nasty comments about how bad conditions are, are you not insulting His eminence?

I see the only purpose to being a believer is to have that transform you into becoming a receiver. I see the only value in being a good giver is in exploding with the intensity of being a better liver.

If spending time with God doesn’t make you smile and rejuvenate your whole being, then maybe you ought to seek new friends. For after all, there is nothing sour that comes from living waters.

If the juice that comes from the fruit of waking up and starting your day with “prayer and devotion” is an elixir of either neutrality or suspicion and aggravation, you are lemon drippings—not lemonade. And because of that, your opinion is about as valuable as a truckload of rotten oranges.

Understand, this goes for me, too. On days when I fail to pass the Crunch Bunny Test, I do not offer advice or opinions to anyone, actually attempting to escape human contact as much as possible so as not to poison my brothers and sisters with my arsenic spirit. I limp away and gain new perspective before joining the human race again.

So we’ve got four of the Crunch Bunnies down.

	What are we like when we drive? (Maybe that’s where the phrase “drives me crazy” comes from…)
	How do we seem when we eat? (The origin of “eat myself to death?”)
	What profile do we take upon waking up? (Remember, the song does NOT say, “Waking up is hard to to do…”)
	And what does five minutes with God turn us into? (If you’re fussy, watch out. A pillar of salt is possible…)

We will finish this up tomorrow. Until then, don't feel any pressure.

The Crunch Bunny Test...Driving and Eating
January 19^th, 2010

I would like to take the next three days to talk to you about the Crunch Bunny Test. You might ask me why I call it the “Crunch Bunny Test,” but I’m really not sure. It just seemed cute—although, if the Crunch Bunny Test is not handled correctly, you can certainly feel the crunch—and become the silly bunny. Aha. Method to my madness.

What is the Crunch Bunny Test? I created the test because I have a desire to appreciate and love the people I meet. Yet it doesn’t mean that I’m going to listen to all of them. I do have a criterion—or actually, criteria—for what makes people viable to me so that I might consider their opinions. It doesn’t have anything to do with my affection for them, or how I treat them as human beings.

But I will tell you that if people are not willing to make complaining their arch-enemy, their opinions are, most of the time, rather meaningless. Because a decision to do or not to do in life, or to pursue or not to pursue, can NOT be based upon the level of inconvenience of the task.

	Complainers hate inconvenience.
	Complainers disdain variance.
	Complainers shun surprises—even when they’re good.
	Complainers despise diversity.
	Complainers think they’re cute because they complain.

Thus the Crunch Bunny Test—and the grading system is very easy to remember. If the person you’re dealing with, in three or more occasions out of five, chooses to complain instead of adjust, you may certainly continue to love them, but don’t follow their example or listen to their counsel.

And what are these five situations? What are the five common occurrences wherin we all live and interact? They are:

Driving
Eating
Waking up.
Praying or just general God stuff
Pressure

Let me watch any human being—including myself—handle those five normal human events, and if I, or anyone else, for that matter, choose to complain instead of adjust, any opinions put forth really don’t matter. So if you will, let me address the first two—driving and eating.

The only reason I would ever consider believing in demon possession is watching people get behind the wheel of a car. Perfectly saintly, genteel human beings turn into raging werewolves once they embrace the steering wheel. Driving conjures the foul spirits of complaining. It often even draws forth foul language from spiritually purified tongues. Here’s a clue: traffic is traffic. Construction on roads is beyond my comprehension, and I think, even that of the divine God. People think they are invisible in their cars, so they will do things they would not normally do if unmasked. So get used to it. Give yourself extra time and never be in a hurry to get anywhere, and if you are, call ahead and tell them you’re going to be late. Driving is one of those things that either unleashes the depth of depravity of frustration, or triggers the sense of humor of the angels.

Which leads me to eating. (I don’t know how it leads me to eating, but I lacked a segue.) You would think that eating is one of those pleasant experiences enjoyed by all. But no. Some people cannot eat without complaining about the food—the texture, the color, the temperature, the cuisine, the waitress, the cook, the dirty utensils, the uncomfortable chairs, or even that ketchup is spelled c-a-t-s-u-p on the bottle . . . do I need to go on? I have had some of my most unpleasant experiences sitting over a completely delicious plate of food as someone at the table complained with such ferocity that all hearers were sprouting spontaneous stomach ulcers. Eating was meant to be a celebration of fellowship with God. That’s why Jesus said, “As often as you do it, do it in remembrance of me.” So I figure when you complain about the food, you give Jesus warts. (Well, that’s a little dramatic. But you get the idea.)

I still love people who complain when they drive and eat. But the presence of a critical, aggravated spirit causes me to mistrust their judgment. Do you understand the difference? There are people I care about and there are people I trust. And it is a fool who will trust the inclinations of those who generally have a spirit to decline.

So that’s two from my Crunch Bunny Test. If someone drives or eats in a grumpy posture, they may need a hug.

Just don’t give them an ear.

It's Not All Right!
January 18^th, 2010

“It’s all right.”

“No problem.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I understand.”

Words and phrases of compromise and appeasement that we all use to oil and grease the wheels of human interaction. But sometimes . . .

It’s not all right.

I think about that today. I think of a man named Martin who had black skin and was a minister of the gospel living, in the Deep South, the Mecca of racial prejudice. The message of that bigotry had spread to every corner of a nation that touted liberty and justice for all.

I think about how easy it would have been for him to preach the gospel and become a civic-minded individual, focusing on his own community and finding his place within the social structure of the day. Of course, he would had to have been willing to be respected as a leader in one community of his own color, and viewed as an inferior among the lighter-shaded townsfolk.

But many did it before him. They lived in peace. They lived segregated and not equal. They lived cloistered away from opportunity that was only available to certain individuals. Yes, benefits that would pale in comparison to what was afforded to Martin’s community.

He could have just said, “That’s all right. No problem.” Why not be satisfied? Why not find a niche—even though it resembles a hole? Why not leave well enough alone?

“Well enough?”

The American definition of “well enough “ is whatever the strongest want to do while simultaneously convincing the weaker that it’s to their blessing. It doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t make it good. It doesn’t even make it functional.

I think about Martin today—how he stood up one day in his pulpit and instead of preaching on John 3:16—“for God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son…”—veered from his text and announced, “It’s not all right. It’s not all right for some people to think they’re better than other people. It’s not all right for our children to get a lesser education because they’re a darker color. And it’s not all right for us to continue to agree that it’s all right as we bite our tongues so hard that our mouths fill with blood.”

So this is your day, Martin. It was established through much debate and controversy, just like your life.

The question is, is it MY day? Is it MY day to abandon the bitter-tasting words of appeasement in deference to the sweet flavor of truth? For, my dear friends, there are many things that are just not all right. We could use a generation of Martins to rise up and not only realize that, but take the chance of being ostracized from the mainstream of mundane living to actually speak the words.

So happy Martin Luther King, Jr., Day. And for those who still do not understand why the man lived, how he lived and how he died, well…that’s just not all right.

"What if there really IS a God?"
January 17^th, 2010

I woke up this morning with a really wild and crazy notion, which most normal people would dismiss to the moment’s lunacy, but instead I will share with you in this jonathots. Because normalcy is over-rated, and actually is a nasty, contagious disease, lending itself to boredom and leading to death by tradition.

Anyway—here’s what popped in my mind. What if there really IS a God? (I mean, don’t get pious on me. All of us go through fits of sainthood and flickers of atheism. That’s what makes us human.) But back to my point. What if there really is a God, but it isn’t at all what we think it is. Life is neither the “vale of tears” to survive in order to reach the streets of gold, nor is it the end-all of self-pursuit, to acquiesce to death and the great unknown. What if life is actually just a really well-orchestrated and organized intelligently-structured boot camp, where God finds out who would really like to live with Him in the next dimension—where the interactions would be more personal and, for lack of a better term, face-to-face?

I mean, if you were God and you wanted to find out who would be a good roommate for you, or, in this case, roommates, what better way than to put your potential Craig’s list of interested parties on a planet together where they have to interact with people who were created in Your image? Because that’s what it says, you know—that people were created in God’s image.

So here’s the plan. Give them lots of food and water, enough trials and tribulations to keep them on their toes, enough blessing to keep them pursuing, and see how they like some of the better parts of who you are—you, in this case, being God.

What if that’s what life is all about? Not Bible reading. Not Bible thumping. Not Bible anything. Maybe it’s not so much about worship as it is about enjoyment. Because I surely can worship something I don’t enjoy. Worship can be generated just because something is bigger than me—stronger and scarier.

But do I enjoy God? What if the answer to that question is, do I like people? Do I appreciate their humanity? Do I giggle over their inconsistencies instead of stabbing them in the back with gossip? What do I do with that person who passes before me? What if the human race ends of being God’s face?

What if the grade card to pass into life everlasting is like the one you received in the first grade?

	Works well with others
	Has good manners
	Cooperates during play-time
	Shares
	Takes instruction well

What if it’s about getting “Satisfactory” checkmarks after each and every one of those?

What if God has constructed a magnificent maze of human journey to observe how much we end up liking each other, and therefore, how much we would really like being with Him, hence determining where this goes after we’re done?

Maybe we just never die—everybody around us is given a vision of our passing and we just go on to be with the God who merely resembles the people we’ve already loved? What if all of this ends up being about people instead of oracles, relics, rituals and religion?

It got me thinking—how would I fare? If God is like people, because people are like God, would I want to spend eternity with Him? How often would I want to blow my horn at Him? How often would I want to cuss Him behind his back? How often would I cut Him off in traffic? How often would I fail to notice that His sadness, and bring some joy to the moment? Would I like His color? How often would I dislike Him because He decided not to be just like me?

Wow. Crazy, huh?

You’re probably right. It’s more likely that heaven will be decided on what we believe about a black book containing sixty-six different ideas of who God is, mingled with thousands of different commandments on how to reach Him, and then finding exactly the right words and spiritual exercises to please Him.

Yes. Certainly that makes more sense.

"Third World Bigotry"
January 16^th, 2010

I heard it again last night on a news report. It’s a little piece of flagrant American arrogance that I can no longer sit back and tolerate under the guise of being perpetually and sheepishly patriotic. In referring to the tragic earthquake in Haiti , the announcer described the nation as “part of the third world.”

I don’t know how that even got started. A “third world” nation. What? Is that a diplomatic way of saying they’re not as good as we are? A way of conveying that their gross national product is really gross? That somehow or another, the stacking of their dead like cordwood is less horrific because, after all, they’re a backward country?

Following through on the logic of “third world” bigotry, I would assume that would place us in the “first world,” countries like France and Poland stuck somewhere in second place, and then everybody else relegated to an undignified third.

Such arrogance—especially when you consider that Haiti is one of America ’s great failures. We’ve had missionaries in there for generations—instructors, teachers, construction crews, diplomats—and free trade and communication throughout many Presidencies. We’ve never been able to translate our “first nation” status to aid this poverty-stricken region.

The arrogance is enhanced by the realization that one time we were in a cold war with another huge power called the Soviet Union . The sheer intimidation of each other’s prowess kept us from annihilating our future possibilities. But now, as the United States stands alone, we find ourselves no longer in cold wars, but in hot wars with these “third world” countries we used to make fun of.

Where is the greatness in being perceived as the bully of the playground? Even if, deep in your heart, you consider yourself to be the benevolent bully, where is the grace, mercy and vision of such a profile?

There are some things I refuse to participate in anymore. I will not recite religious passages that are errant and detrimental to human welfare. I will not nod and agree to prejudiced statements spoken in large groups of people merely to keep the peace. And I will not refer to my brothers and sisters in another locale as a “third world nation” just to lessen my passion and responsibility toward them.

Our brothers and sisters were devastated by an earthquake in Haiti . There’s nothing third abut it.

It is primary.

Stop insisting, work on becoming
January 15th, 2010

It was January 1976, and I was traveling with two dear friends—Luanne and Debbie—in a group we had formed, Soul Purpose. It was a cold and bitter winter, with snow dipping all the way down into the Deep South , halting all productivity in deference to a new flurry of activity.

Snow. It turns Southerners into blubbering little girls.

Life as we knew it shut down.

Our group had a whole series of dates scheduled, which all cancelled because of the winter frozen variety. So we took our van and headed further south—and the weather followed us. It even snowed in San Antonio , Texas , that year, which really couldn’t remember such an occurrence since the Alamo .

We were out of money, vacant of opportunities, moving southward and looking for any chance to share our gift. We also peered deeply into our bank account (which really was a rawhide bag where we kept our funds) and realized that we had about a week’s worth of money left, IF we were able to live on just nine dollars a day for food for the three of us.

That’s not much money—three dollars a person. So we decided the most intelligent thing to do was skip breakfast and drive down the street to our local Pancho’s Mexican Buffet, and eat until we were absolutely stuffed, pay them the $8.89 it cost for the three of us, and then try to make that meal last until noontime the next day. Well, it’s Mexican food. And sometimes it stays with you and sometimes it looks for a quick exit, if you know what I mean. So there were nights we would go rummaging through the van for loose change so we could attack the candy machine for crackers, chips and bars.

I know it sounds a bit pathetic, but it happens to be one of the fonder memories I have of my times with these two individuals. Why? Because during the daytime hours, rather than feeling sorry for ourselves, we divided our time in half. Half the time we called around looking for a place that might want to have a really good singing group come in and share. And the other half of the time we did something really smart. We practiced. We stopped insisting we were great and we worked on becoming great. It surprised us, as we rehearsed, how much we had really needed to do so.

We got better. In the midst of consuming enchiladas, dodging snowstorms, figuring out how to divide an eight-pack of crackers by three and checking for any opportunity to share our talent, we became stronger people, and the craft and gift we thought we had actually bloomed into a usable, workable and pleasant sound.

We emerged from that winter that could have been our discontent, and went to Nashville , Tennessee in the springtime and signed a recording contract and cut our first, and best, record.

Sometimes you have dream. That’s good. But circumstances can always create a nightmare. That’s predictable. It’s what happens next that determines whether you wake up frightened or enlightened. Will you give in to the circumstances? Or keep a sense of humor and follow the dream?

Therein lies the secret.

Shoot. Therein lies life.

"Mercy can't be voted upon"
January 14th, 2010

Maybe Constantine meant well. I don’t know. He was the Emperor of Rome who, according to tradition, had a conversion experience on the battlefield and decided to make Christianity the universal religion of the Roman Empire .

With that came all the government interference also. For after all, Christianity to that point had been a renegade disruption to normal, sedentary, stoic life. It had been persecuted, condemned and relegated to a faith of the slaves—who, by the way, just happened to be the teachers and tutors for all the rich people’s children.

But then Constantine decided to legitimize Christianity. Religion became organized—a dastardly step and an insult to true spirituality. The church formed a government and hierarchy that directly resembled the Roman Empire , complete with emperor, senate, tribunals and even its army structure. A Pope was selected, cardinals, bishops and so forth and so on. And where for centuries before, Jesus had been the head of the church, and every individual believer was the rock, who had a responsibility to hear the Master’s voice, now there was constructed a new chain of command for gaining access to the Nazarene’s mind-set.

We still have it today.

And then, when the Pilgrims came over here and landed on Plymouth Rock, and we fought a Revolution to free ourselves from kings, princes and hierarchy, the torch of Christianity was passed over to the American culture. So what do we do? We decided that Christianity should be democratic—one man, one vote. The people should decide. Just as Constantine may have had a real heart’s desire to see Christianity become mainstream, the American culture has swallowed up the teachings of Jesus and now is releasing it in little sound-bytes, laced with cultural tastiness.

To the world, Christianity has become American. You have Catholicism and Christianity. One is in Rome and one, due to a phenomenon of transition in this country, seems to have settled somewhere in Dixie .

Here’s the problem: Christianity is not about emperors, senators and tribunals. It is also not about the popular vote, committee meetings and making sure everybody gets their fair say. It is, and always will be, about each individual believer discovering within himself how to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

Here’s the fact—mercy can’t be voted upon. Grace is not a political campaign. And forgiveness cannot be put in a new congressional district. Matters of faith cannot be decided by a show of hands from the praise team, the worship committee, or even the church council. Somewhere along the line, we have to return to an idea that faith is built on the growth and productivity of each individual believer. There is no bottom line financially, just an understanding that if people are not growing, expanding, prospering in their souls and thinking differently this year than they did last year, church is not happening. What we have is a managed hardware store, complete with crosses and pews.

Constantine meant well, I’m sure. I have no doubt that our early forefathers, who envisioned a democratic government, and transfused that politick into their denominations, were—yes, they were probably trying to improve the situation.

But church cannot be governed. The church is not a popular vote.

The church is a simultaneously humbling and uplifting experience of discovering what we really want and allowing others around us to have the same courtesy, understanding that who we are is in a constant state of change.

"How deep is your love?"
January 13th, 2010

“How deep is your love?”—a lyric from a beautiful Bee Gees song.

All in all, though, a great question, an issue which stymies the human traveler in a quandary of not knowing how much leeway is given to the soul in the pursuit of the quest. What I mean is, does God really love us?

It’s not clear to me. The mixed signals sent out by religion and ethicists leave me bewildered as to how deep is God’s love. One scripture says, “He cares for us.” That’s nice. In my past, I’ve cared for a cat, a dog and a goldfish. I even felt some remorse at their passing—remorse quickly alleviated by replacing the pet. Are we pets that God cares for?

Another scripture says, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only son.” You see, I’ve met people who have loved me for a season, and they’ve given me something, until they found that I mishandled it or in some way conducted myself in an unseemly manner, and then the love dissipated. Is God an Indian giver?

It also says, “He’s with me.” Having played sports in my life, I’ve seen a crowd cheer when I performed well and boo when I stunk up the place. They were with me—but only when I was in the victor’s position. Is God part of the fickle crowd?

I’m further confounded by listening to the liturgy, the sermons and the general theology of Christianity as it’s presented in today’s world. I’m asked to repeat discourse that claims I’m a sinner—generally incapable of doing anything good—and that I’m totally reliant on God’s mercy to draw my next breath. Doesn’t He get tired of hanging around with losers? Doesn’t He wish that we would get better? Shouldn’t He desire us to rise above mediocrity?

Yes, God. How deep is Your love?

And then, I happen upon a different phrase. “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

That’s a whole new ball of wax. That means that maybe I’ve done something to cause you to leave, or might prompt a decision in you to forsake me, yet out of the sheer determination to be with me, You decide to remain.

Yes—that’s different. Because merely caring for m e, or being with me, or for that matter, in the heat of passion saying that You love me, does not cover the full magnitude of my need. I’m going to mess up. I’m going to do well. I’m going to do both—in the same day. I need to know that You will not leave me or forsake me just because, for a few moments, I have completely lost my mind.

I require this—mainly to confirm to myself that we are on a journey together, not just a quick road trip to pick up Slurpies at the local 7-11. I need to know that when I’m not fun, you will still find ways to enjoy me. I need to realize that when I’m caught up in an infection of self-reliance, you will patiently wait for me to return to my senses.

Yes—how deep is Your love, God?

And for that matter, how deep is mine?

"When ugly, try smart"
January 12th, 2010

“When ugly, try smart.”

It happens to be one of the favorite sayings I discovered one day in a fortune cookie. It’s just hard to argue with that. I happen to greatly enjoy fortune cookies, even though I went through a brief time in the 1970’s, when some bug-eyed, wild, Gospel boys and girls convinced me they were evil.

Some folks are always looking for the new thing to boycott. I quickly outgrew my fear of the little crescent cookie and its tiny shrivels of paper. After all, the fortune cookie isn’t evil--although occasionally nasty, frequently obtuse and generally comically obvious. “Be nice to people and you will prosper.” No kidding. But I think they’re fun—and perhaps underused.

Wouldn’t it be a great idea to use them for arbitration? Like when families are having difficulties. Just sit everybody down, hand each one a fortune cookie, and tell them to take their chance and live by whatever the cookie says. Gee, I wonder if that’s where we got the saying, “That’s just the way the cookie crumbles?”

Anyway, one of my favorites is to take the fortune cookies and read your fortune for the person directly to your right. It adds a certain edge to the game. Maybe we could spread it out to the United Nations. Can I be blunt? If everybody in the world would grab one fortune cookie a day and do nothing but commit to living out its message, the world would be a better place. Isn’t that absolutely freakish?

So many times it’s not the depth or even the quality of the belief we hold dear that determines our destiny, but just whether or not we’re willing to see it through to a conclusion.

Are you like me? If half the things I really believe in would be pursued by me just a little bit more, I would probably triple my success. It’s just so easy to grow weary in well-doing.

Maybe that’s why I like fortune cookies—because they remind me that little things believed in a big way and followed through to an end are what bring the ultimate blessing. You stuff a few words inside a cookie and challenge or encourage someone to be better, and you not only have the great culmination to a good meal, but the notion that if we take ideas and run them through human emotion, mentality, spirit and body, they can change things.

I told the church on Sunday that if we just used our beliefs to affect our lives instead of just confirming the existence of the Divine, those beliefs have the power to get us through any situation.

I like fortune cookies because they emphasize the simplicity of words. And our words do justify us, and if we’re not careful—condemn us.

Matter of fact, I had Chinese food just last night and I’m going to open one of the leftover fortune cookies and see what our fortune is today. Give me a second.

The fortune reads:

“A bargain is not a bargain unless you can use the product.”

I’m not sure how to take that one. It might be a critique of the whole article.

"Stuck in Stupid"
January 11th, 2010

“Stuck in stupid.”

I think it’s one of our new fears. People now seem terrified over the possibility of casting their lot, or giving their passion over, to something that will end up being “stupid” or proven ridiculous, and they’ll be standing there, holding the leftover ticket stub to the abandoned carnival.

I heard one guy the other day refer to his church as “going through an insular phase.” That’s also one of the favorite pastimes in America —we always end up finding a better, more acceptable, word for self-centered. It seems to be a talent we have. No, we’re not going through an insular phase. It’s just that we’re all frightened to death of being “stuck in stupid”.

And so our entire nation is over-thinking and under-feeling. And the problem with thinking is that if it’s not renewed by spiritual insight and emotional discovery, the brain merely pumps out what it’s been pre-programmed to release in particular circumstances. So we think we come up with new ideas, but they’re really stale variations on a tread-bare theme. We over-think and we under-feel. The end result is that the dab of passion each one of us still has is basically ignored by our fellow-travelers as they concentrate on the next thing they think will be workable, or at least survivable.

Yesterday, parading before my book table, was a human cavalcade of pilgrims, all engorged with some form of passionate feeling. For one, it was Habitat for Humanity. For another, it was global warming. There was a couple enlivened with the concept and pursuit of gay marriage. A young girl wants to grow up and star on Broadway in Wicked. Yet another woman knits skullcaps to go inside the helmets of soldiers in Iraq . All of them absolutely passionate about something, ready to share their hearts.

The decision is mine. I can over-think the opportunity and surface their desires, moving on and away from them, untouched by their human ointment—because after all, I’m a busy man. I have a lot to think about. And maybe, honestly, their particular buzz didn’t enliven my hive. So what responsibility do I have to feel their beating pulse? I can take a minute for the minute. It’s really not that hard. And it certainly doesn’t rob us of our souls or our time. Yet the temptation is always there to over-think and under-feel—to avoid getting “stuck in stupid.”

Well, I’ll tell you right now—I hate that philosophy. There aren’t many things I hate, but I hate the new American false progression of over-thinking and under-feeling; of debating and not doing; of arguing and not reasoning; of committees and not commitment.

I hate it.

So each and every one of these fine people who came in front of me—in my own lame, uneducated way—I stopped and participated in their burning quest. And God, it was wonderful. For after all, nothing is magnificent until it sweeps over our souls and penetrates the deeper parts of our fleshy tundra. Everything is frightening when it’s viewed as alien. But when it’s taken inside, it gains new purpose. Better yet, it becomes MY purpose.

I have decided to stop trusting my brain to be the concluder of all things relational. The human heart was created to be the buffer between human beings, not the brain. Thinking alienates us. Thinking separates us. Thinking turns us into denominations. Thinking turns us into cults. The only common ground that exists among races, religions and cultures—is emotion.

Do I risk being “stuck in stupid?” Not only do I risk it, I revel in the possibility of appearing stupid for the right cause. It was the Apostle Paul who said, “After all, aren’t we all fools for Christ’s sake?”

If foolishness is a destination that every human being eventually must achieve, then let it be of my own making, because I refuse to over-think and under-feel.

The end result of that is dying . . . before you’ve taken your last breath.

Busy

January 10^th, 2010

“You sure are busy.”

That’s what people say to me all the time.

Do you know something? I’m really not. I have lots of time on my hands. I think people make that evaluation because they look at what I do and assume that it takes a lot of time, energy and effort to achieve. I suppose if you wanted it to, the work could encompass you, overwhelm you or, I assume, even destroy you.

That’s too bad. This assertion from our society has kind of created a “fear of labor” and removed all the love from the project.

People yearn to have leisure instead of passionately pursuing their pursuits.

I think the key to everything is not being afraid—to start.

I’m beginning a new project myself, with a revival of a Broadway play I wrote called Mountain, putting together a cast next week at a rehearsal camp and then launching them on a two-week tour of the Midwest.

I suppose the task would seem daunting, but I never look at the task when trying to achieve a purpose. Because every task seems formidable.

For instance, sometimes I don’t even want to get up and take a shower, because the concept of subsiding overtakes me with anxiety. But no shower is ever achieved without taking a precious moment to pull back the covers and take several deep breaths. Swing your legs around, feet landing on the floor. Roll your neck to take the kinks out. Take a big drink of water from the cup near your bed. Think something nice. Speak something nice to the room.

Just those actions have removed the task and replaced it with moments towards movement.

It’s all about the next thing. We’re all stymied by the heap of trash that accumulates in front of us, blocking the sensibility of a straightened room. Just pick something off the top and throw it away. The journey has begun. I know it sounds simple—perhaps to some of you, even silly. But counting the cost and carefully considering your options is better achieved after the decision has been made to actually do something.

Because facts will always keep you away from fulfillment. And statistics will lock you up in the status quo. And fear is the great mother who never allows her children to escape the nest.

So am I busy? No. I hope what I am is on point—to the next thing that needs to be done. Or is it wants to be done?

I guess it’s all how you think about it, right? And I think that I’m not busy—just involved.

I wish the same for you.

Talents

January 9^th, 2010

Sometimes I get the giggles at inappropriate times. I know some people would consider this to be immature, which by the way, doesn't stop me from doing it. It just makes me want to do it more.

It happened most recently Sunday morning during the Gospel reading. . The selected passage was the parable of the talents. Do you remember the story? In the tale, the man calls in his three servants and gives one five talents, another one two talents and the final one a single talent based upon their abilities.

Let's stop right there.

That's pretty rugged, don't you think? I mean, you're in a room with two other guys. One gets five of something, another two and you're relegated to one. Not the beginnings of a good day, right? And then your boss leaves and you're a little depressed. Of course, the guy who got five talents is feeling great so he goes out and makes five more. The guy who has two talents is a little bummed, but at least he's not you--with one. So he goes out and does his best and makes two more talents.

Then there's you. Depression quickly turns into aggravation, which turns into resentment, which turns into full-blown vengeance mode. "I'm just not going to do anything."

Well, as the story continues, the boss comes back and of course, Goody-Goody-Five-Talents gets praised for his work. And Mr. C-Average-Two-Talents receives adequate approval. And then it comes to you.

Just about when you're in full expression of your grievance mode, you're interrupted by your boss and he has you ordered to be thrown out of the building, where you're cast into darkness where there's weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Honestly, this has not done a lot for your resentment level.

The reason I giggled was because, when we got done reading this Edgar Allen Poe-esque parable, the Gospel reader said, "This is the Word of the Lord." And we all repeated, "Thanks be to God."

I giggled. Thanks be to God?

Because I looked around the room. And. . . I saw a lot of one-talent people.

And . . .quite a few of them seemed to be a bit depressed and resentful about being dealt their bad poker hand.

And . . . if the story's right, what awaits is a big dose of trouble.

You see, that's the problem with just reading the Bible and then trying to act thankful about the ideas--without actually discussing them. Because the true message of this particular story is not that it's remarkable that five talented people become ten talented people. Or even that two talented people become four talented individuals.

The message is: If you don't complain about one talent, and you actually boil within your own juices to succeed, then anything you do above one is going to be miraculous.

It's a message of hope, punctuated by an ominous threat.

One is great if it moves out on its passion to accomplish something. But one that is resentful of two and five and lays in wait to merely grumble about circumstances will be devastated by the results that life provides here and, we are to assume, what awaits beyond.

It is miraculous to take one of anything and turn it into two, let alone three and oh, my God, four, and bless the name of Jesus--five.

This is when God realizes that we're serious about being happy in our lives because if you're not serious about being happy, you will never be happy seriously.

Most of us end up with one. Most of us have to deal with the fact that others have two and five. Most of us are blessed to have only one because our transition to excellence becomes so obvious that we can't be ignored--and we become a force to be reckoned with.

One is not the loneliest number. It is the common number.

Take it from me.

I'm a one.

Foibles

January 8^th, 2010

Foible: a minor weakness in character--the dictionary definition. The word actually comes from a reference to a weak spot in the construction on the blade of a sword, which, by the way, renders the whole sword only as strong as that weakest point.

Now, the reason I bring up foible to you today is that I think we have been going around for a long time categorizing human effort into two broad spectrums, that being vice or virtue. In the process, some very questionable attributes have been granted the lofty position of virtue and some struggling efforts have been relegated to vice.

Every once in a while here in the Jonathots, I am going to begin with the word foible and you loyal readers will know that I am going to pontificate on one of these attitudes and expose it as a foible--a weakness.

The one that comes to mind immediately to me that has gained the lofty position of virtue, is persistence.

We have become so frightened of being considered wafflers--people who change their minds too often--that we've elevated this foible of persistence to the ivory tower of angels. Persistence is just what it says: it is the action of persisting in something. So you can be a persistent cigarette smoker; you can be a persistent liar; you can be a persistent abuser of any sort.

But coming down a notch on the pegboard, you can also be persistently insistent on a philosophy, doctrine or political stance that has shaky historical grounding and contemporary suspicion factors to it. In other words, there is mounting evidence that the concept which you are persisting in is not worthy of consideration, let alone "the big push."

We've gone through a decade of leaders, both secular and spiritual, who have prided themselves in sticking to their guns long after they've run out of ammunition. Certainly, ambiguity and inconsistency are not very attractive and have a natural rejection level in the human experience. But persistence, without good counsel, wisdom and insight and just a general daily tally of what is and what isn't, is nothing more than a human weakness, that if left unchecked, can develop into a full-blown vice

So how do I know when to be persistent?

1. Are you the only one who agrees with you? If you are, be careful. There are times that a solo mission into integrity is necessary, but they are rare and few and far between. Normally, any piece of wisdom will gain at least an additional traveler in agreement.

2. Is there any fruit to what you are saying and what you believe? Certainly, historically, but mostly in the now? Can you supply evidence that the concept you propose actually works?

3. Is it bettering the situation, or is it taking us back to the no man's land of yesteryear or to a future plane of thinking which we are not prepared for? Great leaders provide daily bread for our journey into future miracles. Said plainly, if it isn't usable today, it is suspect.

So the next time you proudly want to persist in some notion that was spawned from your most-human brain, take into consideration that persistence by birth is not naturally a vice or a virtue, but often just a foible--and as a foible, it needs to be questioned.

Dissatisfaction

January 7^th, 2010

I used to get really fussy with myself about being fussy--because I used to believe that we as people get in bad moods and we just need to shake 'em off and find the silver lining in every cloud. But even if you take that example of a silver lining in every cloud, you still have to realize--there is a cloud.

Why is the cloud there? Does it foretell rain? Or just a blocking of the sunshine for one twenty-four hour period? And if the sunshine weren't occasionally blocked, would I go and burn up my skin with ultraviolet rays and end up dying of cancer?

There are reasons for clouds--and it isn't just for us to find out if they have a silver lining. There is a reason to be dissatisfied.

I now realize that I have really never made any change of importance or achieved any lasting thrust of evolution in my character and my life-choices when I was satisfied.

I have overeaten.

I have over-indulged in many non-specific forms.

I have settled back and allowed moments of life to pass me by while I've either celebrated or commemorated my present feast of success.

In those times of self-praise and self-indulgence, very little has actually ever happened of quality. But the mornings I've woken up and been a little grouchy and grumpy and instead of yelling at the family or kicking my dog (just a figure of speech...I don't actually do that), I instead trace back what is causing my dissatisfaction and analyze it, I usually discover some very intensely interesting information that could transform my day into a more intelligent excursion and make things better.

Dissatisfaction is the thermometer that's stuck inside of our spirits to give us the temperature of our true potential instead of just the daily ego report. It alarms us, alerts us, amuses us and adjusts our consciousness with the possibility of pending calamity--or just the itch of inefficiency.

Yes, dissatisfaction--if I will listen to it and respect its opinion--will tell me where I need to scratch.

Don't get me wrong. I'm like the next guy living down the street with a cold drink in his hand chomping on chicken wings. I like it easy. But I've learned to trust, when it temporarily becomes aggravating and hard, there is a single cell of an idea that would love to evolve into a more comprehensive, intelligent and functional organism.

So here's to dissatisfaction, with all its grumbles, mumbles and poo.

If I trust myself enough to be happy when I'm out there kickin' butt, I need to trust myself to be unhappy long enough to learn how to kick butt better.

Good, Better and Best

Wednesday, January 7th, 2010

Well, let me tell you what I was taught. It's about this good, better, best syndrome. Being raised in Middle America, I was taught that my goal in life should be to go out and locate or do something good and then work on it a little bit until it becomes better and darned-tootin', just hope and pray that maybe someday I'll be considered the best so I can be prosperous and live happily ever after.

There are a couple of names for this--capitalism, the American dream--you take your pick.

Where's the flaw?

You know where the flaw is--it's right at the beginning. What qualifies me to know what's good and what would qualify me to be able to participate in something good? Secondly, effort does not always make things better. There are so many unknown factors that can stand in the way of progress that you cannot merely assess an amount of energy and time to a project and assume a natural improvement. And finally, if best is such an exclusive club and only a few can get into its portal, what happens with the rest of us? Are we supposed to just keep treading water in the great ocean of life, hoping that "good" swims our way and by some stroke of luck, we get rescued onto the cruise ship? (I know I took the analogy too far, but it was still fun...)

No, good, better and best is flawed--so tainted that in our society, we have lessened competition and have begun to reward mere participation just so we can take the sting out of the climate of general disappointment.

So--am I saying that the American dream is really a masked nightmare? No. I'm saying that as time has passed and memories have faded, we have forgotten how the dream really unfolds.

So let's take tomorrow and look at how it really should work and come up with a better angle of escaping the box of mediocrity.

Tuesday, January 6th

How Many Failures?

Epiphany: Discovering something you actually needed, or even wanted, but still joyously surprised that it really happened.

Wise ones from the East--astrologers, you know--studying the sky for any sign of cosmic intervention or heavenly inkling of change. Even though we celebrate their journey, they were astrologers. Without being cruel here, there are people who would contend that they were "wack jobs," peering into the night for some hope of newness and salvation.

It makes you wonder. I mean, the Bible tells us of their success in finding the star of Bethlehem and paying homage to the Christ child, but how many stars did they follow before they ended up in Bethlehem? How many gleams in the night ended up being false alarms instead of prophetic glimmerings? How many times did one of these wise ones excite his friends with a great sighting, only to see it disappear the following evening? Or launch out on a journey towards it and lose it in the field of vision?

How many failures--before Jesus?

It is so encouraging to me on this day of Epiphany that history will not chronicle all of my attempts that fell short, but rather, commemorate and honor, maybe just that one time when I connected with greatness.

You see, that's the power of belief. And even though I personally do not adhere to the concept of astrology, these folks did. They were faithful to it. And faith is always honored with a bit of hope--and hope, if pursued, will produce a bit of light. And if you follow the light, you will end up at the source and meet the promise of mankind, face to face.

So here's to the wise ones from the East, who, let us say, on try number forty-seven, actually followed a beam that led to the great Morning Star. Without the forty-six previous attempts, forty-seven would have been impossible.

Because candidly, you're either lookin' for it or you're not.

These folks were looking for something to change the world. They found it.

How about you?

^{God
or Father?}

Monday, January 5^th

Is He God or is He Father?

It’s a huge question—not only a theological one, but also a cultural one, because frankly, we’re not going to treat anyone any better than we think God treats us.

The question has created a climate which I view as kind of like spiritual adolescence. In other words, even though He should be our Dad, we all reach a particularly rebellious phase where we no longer view Him as our complete ally, but rather, as “that mean guy who is in control, who has a lot of rules, who will ground you if you don’t do just what he says.”

This spiritual adolescence causes us to believe that God’s ways are different than ours, and that if we’re good children, we will do what Daddy wants--but most of the time, we don’t want to.

Spirituality was supposed to evolve with the arrival of Jesus to the point that God was viewed as our Father. But because we’re always trying to find our heritage and linkup with Judaism, we very often retreat back to believing in the God of Mt. Sinai instead of the Daddy who loves us.

So for me it becomes quite easy. I refuse to believe anything about God that I wouldn’t do as a father. I’ve been involved in parenting six sons and have a general idea of what I will do and what I won’t do with them. I won’t allow them to b lazy and rely on me for their ideas and livelihood. Yet I also won’t reject them if they happen to choose occupations or lifestyles that aren’t perfectly suited to my taste.

Jesus said, "If you, being evil men, know how to give good gifts to your children, won’t the Father so much more?”

Good question.

Yet we attribute to God traits that are more associated with an abusive parent than one who has the best interest and concern of a child at heart. So it’s easy for me. When people tell me that God does things that I know I would not do to my own children, quite bluntly I know it’s hogwash. That may be theologically simplistic for those who want to complicate the father/child relationship with all sorts of innuendo and shadow, but there’s a reason that Jesus wanted us to view God as a father—and that reason is to dispel the notion that God has an agenda that is contrary to our best interest.

Spiritual adolescence is causing people to bounce between fear and despair—fear of a God who has such austere restrictions that it’s almost impossible to please Him, and despair over having our personal aspirations and unique ideas dashed by a universal chain of command.

No wonder worship has become a somber experience rather than a jubilant discovery of new freedoms in the household of faith.

Is He God or is He Father?

Did He birth us or is He merely a benefactor who provides—reluctantly—food and shelter?

Is He willing to accept our eccentricities or is conformity the law of His domain?

No matter how rebellious and obtuse my children would become, I could never send them to hell. I don’t even know if I could allow them to go there if it happened to be their will to destroy themselves. I would have to come up with some ingenious way to channel their stupidity towards redemption—even in their darkest hour.

And that’s me—often bouncing my life between dork and jerk.

No—I think it’s pretty simple. If God is not as good a Father as I am, as generous as this insufficient human representation can be, as benevolent as Jonathan Richard Cring—what’s the point?

It Takes Two

Sunday, January 4th, 2010

I don't know why there can't be such a thing as a verbal German. I was told from the time I was about five years old that my dad was not a very communicative person and was very stoic because he was of German descent. Honestly, that's not much comfort to a child who would like to know where he or she stands without going through Mother's explanation or interpretation of a series of facial expressions or hand gestures.

About the time I became disinterested in parents at all--around sixteen--he arrived with a desire to talk to me. In my adolescent rebellion, I pushed him away, never realizing that he had been diagnosed with cancer and was dead within the next year.

Now this might be a sad story if it actually were a story that had pertinence and ongoing presence in my life. I picked up from this point and decided that even though I am also of German descent, and even though I became a father, I chose to be a verbal one.

Women are lost with a non-verbal man--because what could be sparkle, presence, intelligence and individuality in them instead becomes a frenetic chattering match, to assume all adult roles and fulfill all grown-up responsibility in the household.

Young daughters need a dad who can talk. That's how they initially learn that their opinions matter and they have to be beautiful in more than their skin and they don't have to escape off to a first lover to feel valued and desired.

Young men need a father who can speak out so they can learn the precious nature of conviction and the temperance that is required while devoted to a cause.

I have no criticism for my father. I'm sure he was probably a bit more socialized than his father had been. But somewhere along the line we all need to realize there is a desperate need for an emotional and spiritual evolutionary leap here--to escape the missing link of interaction that has left our society in a doldrums, floating aimlessly without any charted direction.

I'm not saying it's more important for men to speak than it is for women. I'm just saying, when men don't speak, women seem loud instead of inspired and on point.

The great conversation--it requires at least two people, you know. Who knows? If Adam and Eve had actually talked, we might all have beach-front property.

Aggressive Humility

Saturday, January 3rd, 2010

I was curious what Joe's profile would be when he returned my call.

He had been absent when I had called earlier for a scheduled appointment with his small-town Florida newspaper. So as I waited for him to call me back, I wondered what approach he would take. Frankly, many people choose to become defensive when they find themselves in an awkward or unfortunate position--even when it's of their own making. The lack of apology for glaring error is a marked sign of a national insecurity that believes that admitting one's faults is a sign of ultimate weakness.

Aggressive humility.

I'm going to say it again. Aggressive humility--taking the initiative to be wrong so you enable yourself to become right again.

Meanwhile, the phone rang. It was Joe. He had barely introduced himself when he launched into a quick, intelligent, well-worded apology for having missed the initial appointment. He was empowered. He had my full respect and attention. He had aggressively used humility to achieve and regain equality.

What is aggressive humility? It is a three-step process:

1. I made a mistake.

2. But I don't want to lose control.

3. So I will initiate repentance.

When we assume that an apology is unnecessary or we wait for someone else to point out to us our insufficiency, we render ourselves not only insipid, but vacant of the moral backbone to take one on the chin.

Joe impressed me. I don't know what the rest of Joe's life is like, but when it comes to the realm of aggressive humility, he has captured a treasure of wealth which will carry him through many situations. So I thought you just might like to know about this very small occurrence on my first day out on this tour.

And I also want to point out to you--and again to myself--that aggressive humility is the only open door to human compatibility.

Liberal or Conservative?

Friday, January 2nd, 2010

A question from a minister: "Would you characterize yourself as a liberal or a conservative?"

My God, America is obsessed.

So I decided to take my jonathots today to answer this man's question, hopefully for the betterment of my consciousness and yours. I must ask him a question first. Would you characterize Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Madison, Lincoln, Wilson and Roosevelt as liberals or conservatives? And a second part of that question would be, into which category would you insert Jesus Christ?

I understand that each side steals quotes out of context from all of the individuals listed above to support the contention that they were part of either the liberal or the conservative contingency. But their entire philosophy and body of work reflects elements of each and total rejection at times of both.

Why we think that a singular philosophy will carry us through the labyrinth of human endeavor and possibilities is beyond all comprehension. You often hear me talk about the heart, soul, mind and strength--the four parts of the human experience that Jesus refers to when he's describing the love-energy that we are to express to our Creator. Would you allow me to return to that quartet to explain where I believe our beings coalesce to coexist with an ever-evolving planet life?

For me, it's quite simple.

Heart and soul--emotions and spirituality: In those two realms, we are intended and destined to be liberals. No one dare live in the realms of heart and soul and try to conserve energy or restrict input and output without causing damage to the human psyche. We are supposed to be open, joyous discoverers of all that is available emotionally and spiritually on this plane of our journey, knowing that we will never tap one per cent of the potentials that actually are available When you constrict the human experience emotionally and spiritually to a few fine points of doctrine and a tiny menu of possible responses, the true gourmet meal of human life begins to feel like we're on a perpetual fast instead of a feast.

No, definitely--emotionally and spiritually we are meant to be liberals. When the Bible says that Jesus was moved with compassion, it is because he had a heart and soul of liberality teaching us that when we give out to others, it will return to us "good measure, pressed down and running over from their treasure."

Mind and body--or as the Bible calls it, strength: I believe we are meant to be conservative. I think removing pondering and reasoning from the mental process and replacing it with a superficial sense of open-mindedness is to extract from our beings the great gift of discernment. Also, to live some sort of epicurean life in our bodies where we eat, drink and be merry and either lavish ourselves with physical luxury or abuse ourselves with drugs and excess renders us certainly dead before our time. The mind and body were meant to be trained and restricted, functioning in conservative principles that keep our health at the forefront so we do not fall into some sort of liberal life-style that ends us with us weakened and foolish.

The connection, of course, is that the spirit, which is working in the realm of liberality, is granted the power to renew the mind with new information that will energize truth for practical application.

An example: people living in the South in 1959 might have reasoned that segregation was an acceptable choice for social behavior--unless their spirits renewed their minds with both scriptural and realistic ideas of how the mistreatment of another race was culturally and historically errant.

So when you allow your heart and soul to be liberal and your mind and body to follow a conservative theme, and the two worlds interact with each other with fluidity, you get the balance that allows for a stability in thinking and living, accentuated by a spiritual and emotional input that permits change. Without this, conservative emotional and spiritual people who stubbornly enact old thinking become the butt of the joke in the writing of history. And liberal people who think they can take their minds and bodies and use them to experiment with adventures in drugs and philosophies which are erroneous to human improvement become as much of a lark in the passing of time as Dr. Timothy Leary's assertion of the mind-expanding value of LSD.

This is balance: With my heart and soul I liberally open myself up to the experiences in life that will rejuvenate the energy that causes my mind and body, which are meant to be more conservative in their repertoire, to function with respect but also to be renewed when new information of a universal quality comes along.

So how would I characterize myself? I am a liberal conservative--liberal in the matters of the heart and soul, and a reasoning conservative in the realm of mind and body.

I can recommend it. Because without this holy tension, you just might sell yourself to the plantation of one cause or another, surrendering your freedom to the back-breaking task of supporting a losing cause, ending up "out of your cotton-picking mind."

Happy New Year

Thursday, January 1st, 2010

2010--an incomprehensible number.

I remember as a young boy thinking that by 1999, we all would be driving around in vehicles that flew through the air, preparing for our vacation on the planet Mars. Yet it's my understanding that at this point, we wouldn't exactly know how to get back to the surface of the moon.

Although we extol the glory and effectiveness of technology, we certainly seem to have stalled somewhere on a landing pad of adequacy in comparison to our need and certainly, when projected against the great screen of our visions.

What happened? I just believe that mentally, we have experienced some deterioration because emotionally and spiritually, we have stunted our growth with physical obsessions. Being creatures of emotion, spirit, mind and strength, we need complete balance to make our progress notable and our lives fulfilling. Somewhere along the line, we've stuffed our emotions in a great, big box and placed it on a shelf in the attic, feeling that we don't need to deal with those items any more. And it is the heart that opens the door to the spirit, so spiritually, rather than being baptized in the fresh water of insight and discovery, we keep bathing ourselves in the muddied waters of traditionalism.

So--since it is the spirit that really renews the mind, well, it's pretty obvious--right? Our minds are not renewed and we keep working from the same old information, trying to create new twists on the theme, while primary in our concern is physical health and the longevity of an existence that is proving itself to be unsatisfying in its mediocrity.

So what do I want for 2010?

I want to see an awakening of true emotion that will allow our spirituality to explode with inclusion and openness to new revelation. Then I think the ideas we need for economic growth, world peace and interaction among our fellow-man will become more plausible and logical to us because we've freed ourselves of inhibition. In the 60's, they said "free your mind and the rest will follow." Actually, better stated: "Free up your heart, and the spirit will teach your mind."

Yes, it's time for a revival of sorts--if that word is not too old-fashioned--of the emotional openness which leads to spiritual discovery and mental rejuvenation, culminating in physical well-being.

So how do we begin?

Trust your feelings, no matter how fickle they may seem. State your feelings, no matter how trivial they may appear to be. And be prepared to have your feelings grow as you interact and discover the heart of those folks around you. Live your life out loud instead of silently, in a disgruntled breast. In doing this, you will allow for the God that exists in the universe and in others to flow through your spirit. For I am convinced it is impossible for ideas to come forth until ideals are pursued.

We are prodding ourselves through pessimistic pragmatism, which leaves us devoid of the fantasy of realization. What is the fantasy of realization? Knowing that everything that once was a dream came into being because somebody woke up and made it real.

Yes, 2010 is an incomprehensible number, but it needn't be an intangible time. We can grab onto this year and move on the idealism of our emotions, creating the spiritual renewal that will generate in our minds ideas, making our physical world gleam with potential.

Happy New Year, my sweet friends. It will never be happier than we make it.