. . . pause or gap in a sequence, series, or process, pause, break, interval, interruption, suspension, intermission, interlude, gap, lacuna, lull, respite, breathing space, time out, recess . . .
One of the things I like about Word Press is that our posts can generate some great discussion. Unlike many other social media pages where, on occasion (ok, all too frequently) I see many hateful exchanges.
A couple of days ago a post of mine generated some great discussion on how governments and local communities attempt to shape social behavior. The idea behind this is to favor what is usually considered the betterment of the whole community or the country at large.
Of course, this begs the questions, “Who gets to decide what’s best for everybody?” And “Just because it’s best for everybody (if it really is), why should I be compelled to do it.”
It’s a balancing of interests.
Intro: I wrote this story back in 1993, describing some of my time on the road between 1978 and 1980. I had packed up and bugged out after a little run-in with the law.
Something sparked the memory, and I dug out a copy of the publication it appeared in at the time – “Out Your Backdoor.”
I found it fun to look back at my writing style then. Not that much different from today.
I was trying to break into freelance writing and looking for small publications that would pick up an article – payment was usually a couple copies of the newsletter, magazine, or journal, or whatever print media it might have been.
With a few minor edits, here it be . . .
I left you all at a juncture in my story “The Club 66.” So, it’s time to circle back a little. If you don’t remember, check out the last couple of paragraphs.
Disclaimer: I don’t recommend that anyone participate in such a ceremony without proper guidance, intent, and knowledge. Also, since we are all individuals, creatures with complex chemical-electrical systems, there is no way to predict how ingestion of any substance might affect someone. To either their benefit or detriment.
Nor can I offer any guidance in how to interpret such an experience. Words fall far short.
Well, as language continues to evolve, or devolve, there’s nothing “cooler” than shortening words for effect. 😊 It also takes less energy and effort. I mean, why bother with all those syllables and pronunciation, right?
There’s also a connotation that sticks with these phrases. These monotone soundbites.
Today’s example is “tude.” The short version of “attitude.” And it’s usually with the negative connotation. “So, what’s with all the tude man?” “Too early in the day for that kind of tude.”
I’m sure you’ve heard it before.
I had finished a couple of beers and an appetizer with a friend at a local pub. Nice neighborhood. Quiet part of town.
While he had to leave, the night was still young, and I decided to mosey on over to the bar and have another round before I hit the trail.
I generally like meeting new people at the bar, and I’ve met some fine ones and had wonderful conversations. Trading stories. Slices of life. Different paths in different timelines converge for a bit.
A smiling between souls.
I read a post a couple of days ago stating that the difference between humans and other animals was the ability of humans to tell stories. And that this ability is what has led to discoveries, inventions (good and bad), art, poetry, war, etc.
Of course, I believe other species have their own way of telling stories. 🙂
Stories have been said to create a special niche where we love to reside. Fictional worlds that fill our minds, the majority of the time for some of us, with a central plot-line of underlying “conflict.” There are generally dark forces to overcome, battles to be won or lost, struggles that define the protagonists, to whom we relate ourselves.
It is us that mirrors back as being the heroine or hero. Whether defeated or exalted.
Back in early November, I had settled into what I thought was a pretty decent routine. Reading, walking, hiking, meditating, and exploring my hobby of photography. That routine came crashing down when the house I was living in became contaminated and I had to make a hasty retreat.*
My patterns are still in a state of disruption.
Writing has become a bit secondary to solving the housing problem. But I did finish a series, at the invitation and encouragement of my blogging friend George,** about marriage and divorce. And that too left my head spinning a bit. I was, after all, revisiting some very painful memories. Basically, these memories, as well as the present situation, all involved a theme in common – the loss of home.
And I mean “home” in the more intangible sense of that word.
Not just a place to stay, but a feeling. A feeling of sanctuary. Of warmth. Of love.
Loss of “home” is not the same as moving out of a place we’ve “occupied.” It’s abandoning a sense of security, of integration, of sentiment. A home is where there is a heart connection. It becomes part of you. An extension.
Usually, this extension of ourselves is tied up with another individual or a family. It’s a communal nature. What makes a “house” a “home” is not the decor. Not the pictures hanging on the wall, or the color scheme of the bathroom fixtures. It’s an amalgamation of the feelings of warmth and protection and mutual love.
Quite an introduction there, I guess.
Intro to what? You know how I like to switch gears. 🙂
Fear, desire. Lightness and dark. The polar opposites are said to be interrelated.
But that doesn’t seem to match our perceptions of reality. I mean, do people fearing some awful event actually have a secret or subconscious desire for that event to happen? Self-flagellation??
I’m not really sure.
There is a growing body of literature talking about our power to manifest the things we want in life. And I’m not sure how much credence to put in that line of thought. This mystical power if activated improperly, by a negative focus, would rain terror down upon us. And that seems to negate the concept of free will, or our ability to say “no thanks.” “I don’t wish to be struck by lightning.”
From some of my prior writings, you know how I love buzz words. Especially in the employee-employer context that I see so often in the management literature.
I’m not really sure what motivates people to “rebrand” and try to stake original claim to concepts that have been around forever, more or less. And I’m also not seeing any of this “elevated thought” being put into actual practice by all of the “influencers” and so-called “thought leaders.” In fact, I see the old traditional, industrial-age, top-down, hierarchical, my-way-or-the-highway management structure still thriving.
And regardless of all the hype about worker retention, the words of my past managers still ring in my head that “attrition is our friend.” In other words, if you were one of the creative ones, the ones that offered innovative thoughts and solutions, that in anyway questioned authority and the old “we’ve always done it that way” mentality, well then, you needed to be driven out of the organization, not retained. You were a threat to management.
In fact, if you were innovative, you were considered a direct and lethal threat to the management team that was busy (barely) trying to justify their own existence. They didn’t want any smart folks replacing their glacial-moving, accomplish-as-little-as-is-necessary, paper-pushing to retain their Herman Miller “Cosm chair” complete with “auto-harmonic tilt, intercept suspension, and flexible frame” working “together to give them the feeling of weightlessness.” 🙂
So, with that slightly cynical and sarcastic, yet realistic, intro, here are today’s buzzwords. And there was a cluster of them today. “Unbossing,” “servant leaders,” “knowledge workers,” and “compassionate directness.”
And now that the laughter has subsided . . .
By Harold Stearley at https://earthwalkingworld.wordpress.com
I have to tell you, I’ve not been feeling well. The living situation is draining me right now so I can’t seem to get very fired up about writing. So, I thought, why not just add a pic to your photo journal today? But then I also found a reminder about a word I wanted to write about.
I couldn’t remember why I wanted to write about this word. I know it wasn’t solely from its basic definition. I had some application or twist I wanted to highlight. To play around with.
While staring at the blank screen, I either remembered or thought of a new one. 🙂
Today, you get both, the image and the word.
Four years after my first divorce, in a courtroom on the other side of the state, the parties were gathering to complete their divorce case. Apparently, things were going really bad for the husband. He knew he was going to lose it all, so it lost it all in a different way.
There was limited security in the courthouse. No metal detectors. The court relied mainly on its bailiffs to keep order.
The husband, seemingly an ordinary guy of even temperament, an aerospace technician, had stashed two pistols in his briefcase. It wasn’t long before the gunfire began.
He shot and killed his wife. Shot both his attorney and her attorney. Shot a bailiff and a sheriff’s deputy. Shot at, but missed the judge. All before the police responded and took him down.
He sustained nine gunshot wounds – two to his head.
Before the paramedics arrived, and while he was still conscious, the story is that he exclaimed:
“Did I kill the bitch?!! Did I kill the bitch?!!!”
Now that is some powerful hatred. From a man who presumably, at least at one time, loved the woman he just killed.
They say time heals all wounds. But that’s just a cliché. Sometimes our minds gift us with the ability to forget, maybe selective dementia, erase the slate, ease the pain. But other times, not-so-much. And while writing about this stuff is therapeutic, it also raises those dead memories from the past. Tears the scab off the old wounds and brings the pain right back to the surface again . . .
Oh, and I still have the paperwork. . . I’m afraid to throw it away.