Stopping the Storms

Don’t let the threatening antics of nature Intimidate:

make timid; fill with fear, to overawe or cow, as through the force of [nature], force into or deter from some action by inducing fear, scare, terrorize, cow, dragoon, subdue; threaten, browbeat, bully, pressure, harass, harry, hassle, hound, torment, tyrannize, persecute; informal lean on, push around, bulldoze, railroad, twist someone’s arm, strong-arm.

Instead check out the antonyms. Notice how many MORE POSITIVE action words are available to counteract the intimidating aspects of nature:

assist, encourage, help, afford, aid, arrange, avail, benefit, bow, comfort, convenience, defer, favor, furnish, gratify, humor, indulge, oblige, pamper, please, provide, serve, settle, submit, suit, supply, support, sustain, yield. animate, applaud, boost, brighten, buck up, buoy, cheer, cheer up, console, embolden, energize, enhearten, enliven, excite, exhilarate, fortify, galvanize, give shot in arm, gladden, goad, hearten, incite, inspire, inspirit, instigate, praise, prop up, psych up, push, rally, reassure, refresh, restore, revitalize, revivify, rouse, spur, steel, stir, strengthen, sway, advise, aid, cooperation, correct, cure, guide, lifting, maintain, nourish, remedy, serve, succor, support, sustain, use, utility.

We humans are so quick to latch onto the false, worst-case scenario. We hide from ourselves the fact that laws of nature are not dark, meddlesome, tyrannical, conspiracies against mankind. The power of “the might of omnipotence and the movements of God’s spiritual government,” comes from and is, divine Mind.
We hide from ourselves the fact that individual man has one identity, one body-not one material AND one spiritual body but ONE body, and that body spiritual, immortal, impervious to death, built not with hands, but with Mind and reflected every moment by and in thought. Despite the mortal appearance, the world has not collapsed. Mind is holding the wind as always in Her loving grasp and building our faith breath by breath, moment by moment, trial by trial. We are as safe as Lazarus in the knowledge we have ONE body built and protected by Love with Love.

Give us to see, as Jesus saw, that ONE body, preserved and cared for by its Creator despite the counterfeit appearance of carnal death and intimidating destruction. “Then, when the winds of God blow, we shall not hug our tatters close about us.” God’s wind is as gentle as a refreshing springtime breeze; a reminder of the most effective storm-chaser of all time-divine Love.

[Quotes are by Mary Baker Eddy]



Of Wooden Doors and Memories

There is a post going around FaceBook with a picture of a front porch captioned, “Every so often. Go where you can hear a wooden screen door slam shut.” Initially I said there was no way to explain that, but I’m now going to make the attempt. I mean who has WOODEN screen doors anymore?
What does this little blurb imply? Summer, exuberance, time past, mom calling out Don’t SLam the. do….r. So we would be in a small town, not yet (thankfully) grown to up enough to want metal and glass in the way of running up the front steps, arm outstretched, grabbing the door handle, around your arm goes pulling the door open, chasing the wind through the entry…SLAM! Can’t you hear it? That squeek and thunk no metal or fiberglass can ever satisfy.
And aside from the sound, there is the comforting knowledge that mom is somewhere in the house repeating the meaningless words she will repeat countless times before you leave for your own house with its own slamming wooden door. It is memories. Bliss. Innocence. Not-a-care-in-the-world/nothing-but-the-moment/everything-is-new-and-exciting time of life. This was when we just sat and listened to the rain, caught lightening bugs after dark and read comic books with a flashlight under the covers. Of course the consequence is you are called upon to wield a screwdriver when dad repairs the door because it has come loose of its hinges. “…from all that slamming. I’ve told you time and again…”, said in unison. That brings a smile from me…and dad.
While this evoked that sense of wistful nostalgia, it also brought a dreamy reminiscence in the sense of one thing reminding me of others. Notice it reads “wooden” screen door. That immediately reminded me of wooden baseball bats. There is nothing, I repeat nothing like the sound of a baseball hit hard off a wooden bat. No aluminum bat I’ve ever swung or heard has come close to the thunk and crack of wood. Even as a spectator you can hear the difference between a dead, metallic clunk and the live, sweet crackle when a baseball collides with a wooden bat. If you’re the batter, you not only hear it, you FEEL it in your hands and all the way up your arms to the let go when you have followed through and dropped the bat to the ground. There is no other “slam” like it…except maybe that slamming wooden screen door.
Every so often.


Don’t you just love it when our nouns and adjectives become verbs. Perhaps it’s a natural result of our incessant penchants for “fixing” things and amusing ourselves. Maybe it’s just creative writing. In jest. In fun. With merriment.
Once upon a time there was someone named Aaron Gog who blogged on his own site called “agoggery.” (It was very creative, by the way. I don’t know why he stopped.)
Now up jumps Joseph Curl at the Washington Times with…you guessed it…agoggery!!!! This was in an article referring to the left and Obama’s tax increases, “So this week, as taxes went up for millions of Americans — which Republicans predicted throughout the campaign would happen — it was fun to watch the agoggery of the left.”
If Mr. Curl meant to make use of the word agog, meaning anticipation or eagerness, he is mis-reading the left. I think agoggery in this instance should mean astonishment and/or shock! But this is not to analyze or inquire into Curl’s op.ed. This is to explore such a fascinating word as agoggery. Which isn’t even a word as far as I can find out. The Obama believers are clearly not watching with the original derivation of agog which is a word and is from the French en gogue: in merriment! (Mr. Curl evidently is the one whose watching is agog.) One old Webster’s commented that agog “may” be of Celtic origin and meaning “fun.” The Irish in me says, “oh yes, that could be!”
I find that agog can be an adjective or adverb and generally means highly excited via eagerness, anticipation. Intense. Keen. So, here we have an adjective becoming a noun…the inverse of that with which I started. And all the definitions I found included excitement and eagerness among whatever else…such as stirred up and astir. Various forms of desire were used but always in conjunction with eager. Well, enough. I won’t go where my Celtic sense of fun wants to take that! In jest. In fun. With merriment.

Everlasting to Everlasting

Creation holds nothing new in the sense of something not created previously. Creation seems new to us humans because we have not seen the manifestations of what is already existent. Some see more than others at any one given point. Creation is constantly unfolding and that is what we see…each at our own pace and understanding. What is happening now, I believe, is a more universal awareness that we are all one, one thought, one consciousness, one family and each identity is one of many individual expressions of one divine Principle; that Principle being Love. That these individual expressions, ie, people are converging now makes it an exciting time in which to live. And it spawns many theories as to what it all means. Mary Baker Eddy says, “Happiness is spiritual, born of Truth and Love. It is unselfish; therefore it cannot exist alone, but requires all mankind to share it.” We are getting there, surely, inexorably and will eventually reach the pinnacle/culmination/apex/zenith of our search because we are impelled to do so by every law that is real, true and enforceable, which means only the spiritual and scientific.That this process seems to be happening fasterandfaster means we are understanding moreandmore. And have you noticed that matter keeps getting smaller and smaller? Think about computers, phones, newspapers, magazines, etc, ad infinitum. That, too, is part of the process.

Rich, Rich, Rich

This was originally written in response to someone’s blog about how awful it was to live in Iowa…it has been edited and expanded here for your enjoyment…

I grew up in Des Moines, Iowa…so long ago it was close to farms. Detasselling corn was THE summer job. Racism was not part of my youth. Black girls were part of our slumber party group because we didn’t know they “shouldn’t” be. I hated the black kid who sat behind me in Social Studies, not because he was black, but because he was obnoxious. School was fun because the teachers loved their jobs…and us.I picnicked at Walnut Woods State Park, laughed through the water dips at the Ledges, swam in Clear Lake, Okoboji and Gray’s Lake. I watched the planes take off and land from the viewing spot outside the airport fence because it was cheap entertainment. I spent literally hours at The Art Center and first met Piet Mondrian there. I worked at the Ingersoll Theater, had a friend who invited me to her parents farm to ride the horses bareback and I attended Barbershop Quartet competitions at KRNT, and danced with Lawrence Welk when he did a show there. Sleeping outside on a hill at the park or the roof of our house because it was so sticky-humid-everywhere was a treat. One of my uncles worked at the Iowa State Fair, so every year I got special treats…puppets or straw hats or such…and he was there long enough, so did my kids!
Somewhere along the line, of course, Iowa shed her 50’s mentality and joined the rest of the drug-racist-violent culture of this century. San Diego didn’t feel like home partly because there are no thunderstorms there. I lived there 10 years, loved the fireworks, missed thunderstorms. Every bad thing that [K] mentions could have happened anywhere. What could not have happened just anywhere are the intangibles..the spirit, the warmth, the vitality, born-of-necessity-creativity, the genuine people-caring and the gosh-darn-down-to-earth-let’s-just-get-it-done-attitude!
Too timid to peer around the bend? One of Dad’s favorite pasttimes was taking us on drives in the country and asking which fork in the road we wanted to explore that day!

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