G-Poppers … April 21st, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Jon close up

G-Pop awoke this morning with an idea as pristine as a Windexed pane of glass.

Clarity–those moments when for a brief second, it appears that intelligence has been allowed into the garbage dump of our brains.

It was rather simple: the body should die first.

We spend countless billions of dollars to keep our physical beings alive years after our hearts, souls and minds have deteriorated to nothing.

The body is supposed to die first. It’s really the only way to leave happy. If you’re emotionally drained, spiritually strangled and mentally executed before that happens, it is a misery that simulates the vacuous nature of hell itself.

We are supposedly a people of faith–who are scared to death of death.

We visit every doctor, swallow every pill, buy every step-climber and pursue each and every herbal remedy suggested on the comical Internet of knowledge.

So we live without passion.

We exist from one doctor’s appointment to another.

We spend our time discussing our ailments, lamenting our lives because that which made us who we are has decayed, fallen off and blown away as dust.

I don’t want my body to live one more day than my heart, soul and mind.

Simple.

There’s a blessing to dying while you’re still productive. It is a gift to have people lament that you died too soon instead of quietly whispering to one another, “It was for the best.”

G-Pop thought this was especially significant on this day, when he’s celebrating the birth of his dear friend. She has escaped the rigors of her culture, denied the stupidity of her youthful mishaps and has come out the other end chasing her talent to greater and greater discovery.

It’s the only way to live.

It’s the only way to be.

God grant me the insight to know that I am a heart, soul and mind, surrounded by a body which desperately needs to be the first to give up the ghost.

 

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Confessing… May 30th, 2015

   Jonathots Daily Blog

(2597)

I confess so I can heal.

If I deny, I remain sick.

It was the rage.

Many years ago in a galaxy not far away–matter of fact, right here–folks started trying to do presumptuous things in an attempt to prove they had great faith.

I was just a young man, and susceptible to suggestion, since I already had a bit of the seed of naughtiness sown in my heart.

So when I heard these people of faith proclaiming different ways to achieve success by believing that God “was going to take care of everything,” I leaped in with both feet–my wallet open.

I was particularly drawn to the story of one man who said he wrote a check on Friday from his back account where he had no funds, believing that by Monday, when the check would normally come in and bounce merrily, God would provide the money.

Of course, in his story there was a super-fabulous intervention of finance, which protected him from a bank error “not in his favor.”

So I decided to try it. Coming up short on my rent and groceries, I wrote a check for cash on Friday at the local IGA, bought my groceries and pleased my landlord, and then sat back, waiting for intervention from my “Investor which art in heaven.”

It never came.

So fearing I was going to have a check arrive in my bank with non-sufficient funds, I went out and wrote another check for cash to deposit in my account, to buy me two or three days, and to avoid embarrassment.

Needless to say, that check was not covered either, so I launched on a calamity of financial danger, which eventually led me to open up another bank account so that I could more easily cover my checks, which were now flying wildly through the air.

Of course, each time I wrote a check, I had a little bit more need, so the amount grew and grew.

Actually, I was rather self-satisfied with the solution I had arrived at to handle my personal indebtedness. But when I privately shared it with a friend, he explained that what I was doing was illegal. He told me it was called “kiting.”

I was frightened by the word “illegal,” but that didn’t stop me for another two or three weeks.

Finally, breathlessly, my conscience caught up with my ego, and I realized I needed to stop this craziness.

So I ceased, which immediately caused seven checks to bounce–all of them at the doorstep of my local, kind IGA manager.

The total was $3,453.

He was not nearly as angry as he was terrified about what he was going to do with this deficit. It was completely within his rights to call the police and have me arrested.

He didn’t.

I told him I would pay it off. It took six months of concentration, hard work and the kindness of friends to get me out of the pickle caused by my false faith.

Now that 40 years have passed, I wonder if any of that presumption is still left in my soul.  Am I still looking for God to take care of all my problems, instead of allowing Him to provide the wisdom and strength to help me through them?

I hope I learned from that lesson.

I hope I realize that the best way to prove my faith is not by exaggerating my need, but by simplifying my life, becoming more generous and using the talents God has given me… to acquire a wage.

 

 

bouncing ball

 

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