Sensitize … May 31st, 2020

SENSITIZE 2

Every morning, Mr. Cring takes a personal moment with his audience.

Click the picture below to see the video

Published in: on May 31, 2020 at 1:18 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Sensitize … (May 30th, 2020)

SENSITIZE 1

Every morning, Mr. Cring takes a personal moment with his audience.

Click the picture below to see the video

 

Things I Learned from R. B. (May 24th, 2020)

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4419)

Episode 16

For nearly five months, I had been squirreling some money away, trying to fund an idea I believed needed to be pursued.

It was time.

Whatever inspiration had once possessed the soul of our family—to travel across the country, working, living and making music together—had gradually dissipated down to a stream of loyalty and an irritating question.

If we weren’t doing this, what in the hell would we do?

My wife mustered the energy to be happy, but certainly had lost the desire to schedule, travel and perform.

My sons were thrilled to be brothers, enjoined with me, but knew deep in their hearts that the “call of the mild” must replace the “call of the wild.”

They needed lives of their own.

This would take money.

I knew it was foolish to announce to the family my campaign. It just might make them fearful that if they ate an extra apricot, they were destroying our future.

So I kept it private.

After five months, I had a small sum I was grateful for—but knew it was nowhere in the ballpark of fulfilling the need.

We were traveling across the panhandle of Florida, heading toward Jacksonville when I said a very simple prayer.

“Dear Lord, I’ve painted myself into a corner. Either help the paint to dry quickly or direct me clearly on how to leap out of my predicament.”

Also, it had become more difficult to acquire schedulings. It takes a lot of passion to convince somebody of what you want to do—and honestly, people were not quite as open to being convinced.

So in late August, in boiling hot Jacksonville, we succeeded in getting one booking for the week–on the Sunday night.

One opportunity to pay our way.

One mission field.

One audience.

I came to a decision before we rolled up to our engagement.

“Whatever we have at the end of tonight I will use to set us up somewhere and give my sons the chance to launch their own lives.”

Yet I was discouraged when I arrived and realized we were at a church that only had fifty people on a Sunday night—a black church, which meant we might have to wade through some resistance.

It’s not that black churches were difficult, but sometimes, because of the nature of the South and memories of segregation, the parishioners wondered why a white family was coming to a black church instead of sharing their talents with white folk.

I put those thoughts out of my mind, making sure they were busy elsewhere. Instead, I took a count of my situation.

I felt I needed three thousand dollars to settle in.

With some amazing blessings from the previous two weeks, I had managed to collect $1434 in cash.

That night, when the pastor introduced me and I stepped in front of an audience of forty-two people, the calculator in my brain boiled over with frustration.

I needed to make about thirty-five dollars a person to get my nest egg.

Now, I am not negative by any stretch of the imagination but am also not a fool. I don’t know whether I could have pulled a gun and gotten thirty-five dollars a person out of the gathering. There were several souls who might have needed me to donate to them.

But no matter.

Whatever happened, I was going to take the whole family to our next destination and do the best we could.

We would no longer be “on the road again.”

Over the years I have experienced some magical nights, yet none to compare with the warmth and tenderness exchanged in that sanctuary.

About halfway through I realized that these strangers had decided to become one with us, and we, likewise, one with them.

We laughed.

We cried.

We sang nearly every song we could play.

At the end the pastor stood and took up the offering.

I was astounded when he handed me $1,433.

Now, I will not tell you that I should ever have taken my family on the road. I also will not lie to you and say that everything I did on that journey was well-thought-out or appropriate.

But the science of our music, the Mother Nature of what apparently was a good season, and the humanity of this congregation launched us to our new beginnings.

The next morning as I drove north, I explained what I envisioned for us to do as a family.

They were relieved.

They didn’t act that way—there were some tears of regret.

But there were also some shouts of “hallelujah” over the new possibility.

To avoid a motel room, we drove all the way into Nashville, Tennessee, and in just three hours, located a new apartment.

We spent that first night sleeping on the floor of our new home.

The next four days were nothing short of miraculous.

My sons got out, secured social security numbers, found jobs and set in motion getting drivers’ licenses.

It all fell in place—mainly because I felt as if I was no longer forcing the direction. Rather, the passions of my children were driving the solution.

I hooked up a phone—landline. Two hours later it rang.

It was R. B., calling from Tacoma.

I don’t know how he knew we were coming to Nashville or how he successfully tracked down our phone number so quickly.

He did a little hemming and he did a little hawing, and somewhere in between, I got the idea that he had hatched his own plan.

He needed his own miracle.

Sensing his frustration and his desperation, I said, “Hey, buddy, why don’t you just move to Nashville? It’s where you started. It’s where we met—and it’s where they make music. How can you lose?”

Two weeks later, driving a car that should not even have been on the road, he arrived, found a small one-room apartment and settled in.

We were in the same community again, with even less in common.

Still, all in all, it was better for both of us than where we found ourselves short weeks before.

Sit Down Comedy … May 8th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4405)

Sit Down Comedy

They are lying to me again.

Folks tell me I should just accept it. “Everybody lies. Just get used to it.”

I can’t.

There are just some matters that are so important they require the truth.

I’m being lied to about Covid-19.

I know I am.

I’m not paranoid. I’m just observing that all the symptoms of lying have sprouted.

  • Ambiguous answers.
  • Careful explanations.
  • Outlandish attacks.
  • Double-talk.

All these things tell me that the participants involved in this pandemic feel the need to lie in some capacity to support their position.

Even Dr. Fauci seems quite fuzzy.

For we all know, if this gentleman were actually telling the whole truth, his ass would have been fired weeks ago. He’s walking that “fine line” between revelation and deception.

I believe the good of mankind is total transparency. After all, they think you and I can’t handle the truth. Right? We need someone to pander to us. We need to know that God is still blessing America.

They are lying to me again. What should I do about it?

Here are two things we know:

  1. We cannot continue to stay in our homes, waiting for the virus to either scurry away or be cured by research departments that are in the back pocket of Somebody-or-Another, Inc.
  2. We also know that we cannot launch out in ignorance and begin to imitate America circa 2018 and pull off some sort of “Holy Jesus miracle,” which will make everything alright because we’re the good guys.

Whatever we do is going to be messy—but at its core, needs to be initiated through mercy.

So I need three questions answered.

I shall not believe a Republican or a Democrat in an election year.

Unlike millions of Americans, I don’t have faith in the medical field. I know for a fact, they tout more than they deliver.

And in spite of my faith, I do not believe that God is going to intervene, interrupt Science and His own Natural Order—to pinpoint one organism and obliterate it so we can go play football again. So here are my questions:

Question One: Do you have a preference?

Since you’re going to be making decisions about the safety and lifestyle of the American people, do you have a preference?

I mean, have you already decided that one approach is better for your political party? Have you concluded that you’re going to follow the dictates of some organization, where you’ve placed your allegiance in determining what is best to do?

If you are, I can’t listen to you unless I want to be a fool.

Question Two: Are you angry?

Are you preparing to make a decision about the health of 330 million people based upon a fussiness that has settled into your soul?

For I will tell you, the forces of the universe don’t give a shit if you feel put out, and they certainly are not frightened of the prospect of your raging tantrum.

And my final question to anyone who is going to try to offer truthful insight and a solution to this situation is:

Question Three: Who or what do you really care about?

I have to know.

Do you care about the stranger who has blood, heart and brain, just like you? Or do you feel that this stranger can be damned—just as long as the right person ends up in the White House?

So as I’ve asked the questions…

  1. Do you have a preference?
  2. Are you angry?
  3. And what do you really care about?

…the answers so far have been unfulfilling and even disturbing.

Here is what I feel:

Life is messy.

Tell the truth.

It doesn’t get better painted with lies.

Life demands mercy because we require it also.

So whatever you decide to do needs to be drenched in mercy.

I will not continue to be lied to and play the part of a helpless buffoon. Don’t talk to me unless you’re prepared to tell a truth that contradicts what you said before.

Then, and only then, will I be willing to listen.

Sit Down Comedy … April 17th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4383)

Sit Down Comedy

Preparing for our new normal…”

It seems to be the catch phrase of the day.

Yet hearing it sprouts questions which ping-pong in my brain.

What if I didn’t care about the old normal?

What if I found it obtuse?

What if the old normal aggravated my emotions with its continual flood of personal attacks?

What if I found myself alienated from a society that was too frightened of aliens?

What if I don’t want to return to what we had?

The braggadocio attitudes of small-minded humans being given platforms to scream their ridiculous claims and espouse horrific prejudices does not seem to be the “normal” where I can be normal.

Life, Mother Nature, science, humanity and God, himself, have granted us a time-out for our incorrigible behavior.

What should we do with it?

You should do what you deem necessary.

Me? I’m going to take a pause from the cause.

There are too many things I believe in that have sharp edges which cut and hurt other humans.

I’ve worked on it for many years, but my blades still extend.

I must take a pause from my cause.

Can I suggest to you that this is a possible alternative to meaningless repetition? For instance:

If you possess a fervent belief in God, at least admit to yourself there are times that atheism seems comforting.

My brothers and sisters who are Republicans may want smaller government and less interference, but keep in mind that the stimulus check still arrived at a sweet moment.

How about you Democrats take a pause from your guilt trip—blaming others of wealth and substance for every evil that has befallen the Earth?

And you, committed to pro-life, standing firm against abortion, must at least pause and consider what you would do if your sixteen-year-old daughter came to you with the results of a drug store pregnancy test, and her only excuse was that she was told “if you drink lots of lemon juice, you can’t get pregnant?”

Yes, God bless America, you patriots, but keep this in mind: your family does not live in a war zone, where the danger of being blown up, ravaged or murdered are a constant threat after your meager dinner is consumed.

Mr. Macho–what do you think it would be like to be pawed at and disrespected all the time, while your abilities were set to the side in deference to discussing your rack?

And my sisters may want to mull how their brothers have to battle testosterone and the urge to be overly aggressive with physical prowess.

Whether it’s black or whether it’s white, take a pause and channel the other color. If it’s yellow or it’s red, consider what it’s like to wear the skin of another.

Those who are heterosexual—do they really believe the gay community is embroiled in perversion, or, just like you and me, in search of a defining love?

Can the rich remember a time, or project in their minds, the anguish involved in being short on the rent?

And can the poor man and woman understand that not all money is inherited? Some of the green stuff is procured by “greening” a great idea–and patiently working it as it grows.

I am not ready to find a new normal.

And I am certainly unwilling to return to the old.

For before this virus, we had grown much too cynical and selfish, welcoming back into our hearts latent racism, causing us to be pious about our own ignorance.

I shall take a pause from my cause…to study my flaws.

The B. S. M. G. Report


Jonathots Daily Blog

(4287)

My friend, would you please define

Why you think we are all just fine?

BAD

What happens when good doesn’t make us better? Isn’t that bad?

  • A good economy.
  • A good job market
  • Good Christmas season.
  • Good outlook on the stock exchange.

Why don’t these things we call good make us better?

And what is the purpose of touting good things when they don’t internalize into human beings and transform them into dynamic individuals?

Is it possible that it’s bad when things are good?

Are we better when things are worse?

Is there a part of us that knows we’re not worthy and wants to find our own feet instead of being lifted?

I’m not sure, but I know this:

It seems to me to be bad when good doesn’t make us better.

SAD

Likewise, when joy brings no smile, is it really happiness?

If the “joy of the Lord is strength,” why does the believer frown?

If music truly brings joy, why are drugs necessary to make us high?

If being in love is actually a joyful thing, why do we spend our time lamenting our choice?

It seems to me to be pretty sad when joy brings no smile.

When a Christmas season comes and goes and we’re so engrossed in politics, impeachment, misconceptions and distractions that the carols play at the same decibel as years before—with identical emotion—yet fail to beckon our childlike spirit.

MAD

It makes me mad when the common gains no sense.

Why is it that we are trying to be the first generation to come to different conclusions than our ancestors did? Is it just so we can proclaim our uniqueness?

The Earth has been around for a long time and certainly has its ways.

Nature speaks to us.

Science teaches us.

And our human brothers and sisters join us.

It is common—but it gives no sense.

It is obvious—yet ignored.

A house divided against itself cannot stand.

But wait! Wait. Ours can.

He who hates his brother hates God.

No, no. We have a much different interpretation.

Lying is evil.

Oh, my goodness—you are so behind the times. We have discovered a way to lie and make it charming.

For there to be common sense, there must be sense we acknowledge as common among us all.

GLAD

I wonder if we’re prepared to avoid the pain by letting what is sane produce our gain.

This is the way to be glad.

Gladness is not sprinkled on us like fairy dust.

It isn’t an accidental stumbling into the hilarious.

Gladness is when the pain leaves because the sane produces gain.

Isn’t it bad when good doesn’t make us better?

I find it sad when joy produces no smile.

Are you mad when the common gains no sense?

Or are you like me?

Ready to be glad, relinquishing the pain by allowing what is sane to offer true gain.

The B. S. M. G. Report


Jonathots Daily Blog

(4246)

Refusing to ever rest

From seeking what is best

BAD

You are not worthy of great opportunity unless you’ve counted the cost and decided you know how to lose.

Someone will lose.

Unlike what your third-grade teacher told you, not all of us are winners.

I saw something bad yesterday. Three or four grown men—college football coaches—turned into whiny, bitchy babies because their teams lost, and the reporters asked them questions they did not want to answer.

I’m sorry, gentlemen. You don’t get to do that. The minute you start taking millions of dollars in salary for running a football team, you lose all privilege of being snotty. If you can’t give a civil answer, cancel the press conference. Please, do not teach the younger generation that it’s perfectly acceptable to be so disappointed that you pour your poison out on everyone around you.

Play to win. Lose and survive.

That’s how it works.

SAD

Great full.

I thought it was a little sad this year that Thanksgiving was not nearly as punctuated with true gratitude as I have seen in the past. Maybe it was just me—perhaps I was at the wrong places. Could I have watched the bogus television shows?

Yet the message I heard was, “It is great that we are full.

Anybody can smile when their belly is satisfied, their house is warm and they’re doing good on their job.

Maybe it’s true that none of us learn how to be grateful until one or more of our wishes is absent and we still have to press on.

Yes, I think that’s it.

Gratitude is always better expressed by the souls who offer their appreciation, and those around them wonder how they can be so happy with so little.

MAD

I heard it again.

Somebody told me they have “faith in their doctor.”

I know why they said this. Medicine portrays itself as a religion. Everything is white, pristine and there are all sorts of gadgets, tons of explanations, and enough pomp and circumstance to march the Pope into the Vatican thirty times.

I don’t know why we can’t just deal with the truth:

Doctors and nurses are fabulous, and also ignorant.

  • We’re still doing more cutting than curing.
  • We still prescribe more medication than offer solutions.
  • We are still wrong much too often.

For instance, medicine has killed tens of thousands of people through opiate addiction and the misapplication of painkillers.

Everyone knows there are more infections in a hospital than there are in your kid’s sandbox.

I’m not asking the medical field to be diminished, nor am I criticizing them.

I am demanding some needful humility.

In the 1790’s, when doctors were treating President George Washington for pneumonia and they bled him with leeches, they were certainly convinced they were giving him expert treatment, and probably discussed among themselves how this particular breed of leech was ground-breaking.

All the chatter did not change the matter. And the matter was, their treatment was counterproductive. They had to learn their way out of it.

I think it’s important to go to the doctor and get checked over as best you can—as long as you realize that part of what you’ll experience is somewhat experimental, making you a temporary guinea pig.

So oink-oink. And let us encourage these people of science to grow instead of crow.

GLAD

I believe I saw it on a YouTube.

It was a little boy, about nine. So maybe not so little, but still young.

He was asked a question in his classroom by a teacher.

“What do you want your life to be?”

They filmed a couple of students talking about money, happiness, marriage, cars and such.

Then they came to this young man. It was as if he was suddenly possessed by an angel from heaven. He explained, “Life doesn’t show up fixed. You gotta put it together.”

I laughed and broke out in tears all at the same time.

Do any of us really believe that?

Even though the boy’s words were eternal, can we realize how powerful this idea truly is?

It makes me glad there is one small member of the human race out there who has it right. Maybe he’ll infect us. Here’s what we need to learn:

Inhale life. Exhale good cheer.

Then repeat the process.

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