Insidious Adaptation

There seems to be a culture of underlying corruption, one of questions more than answers. Really, is all one has to do to corrupt or detangle another's beliefs is question. Is all the serpent did with Eve was question whether or not God meant this tree, this one right here? This little guy? It's a simple rubbing of a sweater that causes a bare thread to pop out and then a simple tug from it's owner that causes the entire piece to go to into the garbage real quick.  Lies and deceit are not as apparent as we would like them to be. Instead, for I love the use of my favorite word ever, they are, insidious. Yes, lies are sneaky little comments, jabs, questions, that to a person not very strong in their convictions tend to waver, fall, look back and be like, "whoa, that was quick." In reality, things are not as much a surprise until we look back at themt. On Netflix there is a docuseries (new word for the dictionary) about the 90's. I found it kind of funny...

Life, like a line. Going exactly as it should. One thing happening after another, a sequence. In the moment of time we think this is a turning point, where things change, an angle forms in our otherwise linear life. However, life moves as it does, predetermined, hurling toward a final destination. Death is a definition of man's cease to physically exist, however the spirit, our inner-most parts, linger on, furthering this line. Sure, the line that was once two dimensional, like a line graph, is now three-dimensional coming out of the paper and at a person, sure that is difficult for the living in the two dimensions to comprehend, but it is the line that continues, as straight and direct as it ever was.  What we do here, today, this moment, matters. Our thoughts, that spark in the brain scientists have not quite figured out, these things becomes our behaviors, which become actions, and eventually, if not made aware and interrupted, become us. We condition ourselves to the peop...

One surprisingly-sunny, late-winter day, as my daughter was figuring out her footing on the edge of a sidewalk, down hill, my apprehensions laid in my will aiding her to stay upright. As she continued to place one awkward foot in front of the other, something shiny caught my eye. I looked past her as she stepped down to safety and made my approach, as though it was placed right here, for me. "Hey, what's this?" A rhetorical question, for as I made my approach and the dim silver shimmer informed me that is in fact currency, a significant currently at that. The mind's ability to determine things quickly, on display here as I discounted the possibility of a penny or nickel, even a quarter was too small, maybe a fifty-cent piece? No, not that either, for it was a little smaller than that. "Ah, it's a silver dollar!" I exclaim to my careless daughter and a wife who was too far ahead to take note of what she might have assumed another piece of garbage I...

In conclusion, one has to be stronger than they were before to ensure they do not resume their previously identified, “problematic” behaviors.  The end is the beginning. The spoiler alert right up front, a clear message.  Just me.  I am nothing of significance. This makes me more of a danger than anyone of this weighty expectation, for I have freedom and irrelevance to do and say as I like. I can tell you, that I believe Donald Trump is doing his job, and I believe much of what is happening is a smoke screen for something else. I think that maybe he is doing what he felt like he should do to bring all the little turd pieces to the top of the cream to be scraped off, exposed, dealt with; for underlying issues are still issues.  Another thing I stand for is the Bible. I can tell you that what is presented is real and told in the way the Bible depicts it for an eternal purpose, not for an upfront message all the time. I believe the tendencies and storie...

In junior high, as I discovered "chat rooms," I had developed an alter ego who was 19, from California, and male, under the name of Billy McBean. This was my typical response where the common question would arise, "A/S/L( Age, Sex, Location)?" I figured 19 was safe and due to being nowhere near California, nobody could, “figure me out.” I created the name from a kid I knew in elementary school whose last name was different, but for sake of embarrassment on the world wide web, I figure I'm best at leaving that next part out.   Billy lived in what appeared to be squalor on the edge of my small town. He wasn’t too far from where I lived, though I determined, miles away socially. Billy might have had some sort of learning disability, or at least emotional disturbances due to home conditions, something that indicated a “difference.” Unfortunately as kids go, this, “difference” was noticeable and used against him from the bus rides to school, to the playground, ...

The standards that once sufficed as a remedy for a deeper problem, a missed attempt to resolve, no longer enough. A “higher” standard, a “better” person, more resolve, more passion, essentially all driven by more will. Our will? The same will that led us here, this place of necessary resolve, a recognition of a fault that needs altered to avoid further consequences imposed by ourselves? If WILL could get us there, then why, again, are we here? Why must we even have to state a claim of needing to change any external part, if the internal desire and will to change was enough? Why must me make this bold claim of change, when in actuality, we change nothing at all. We presume that the next time we want something, we will say no, we will reject that desire with such a will and determination to alter ourselves, that the formerly problematic desire will cower to our wills, run away crying at our demanding self. We demand change, we will it. Yet, here we are, another year, a few ...