G-Poppers … January 13th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Jon close up

During the bar fight which was advertised to be a Presidential election, G-Pop became very concerned that intangibles necessary to the human family were being ignored, if not attacked.

The funny thing about intangibles is, they should become tangible. In other words, they must gain some reality or we start to fade in the heat of the day. The three most famous are faith, hope and love.

So G-Pop contacted his children and grand-children and asked them to give him definitions of the three words.

The twelve-year-old went right to the dictionary and came up with very astute, well-rounded wordings.

Faith: believing in something not seen.

Hope: pursuing a dream.

Love: a committed affection.

The teenager and budding young woman had very clever answers.

Faith: trusting the map when it’s foggy

Hope: car won’t start–try again

Love: sharing the last of your favorite food.

And that delightful daughter-in-law wrote to G-Pop, telling him that she would suggest:

Faith: believing without proof

Hope: hanging in there

Love: placing someone above your own needs.

And at the last moment a son popped in, sharing:

Faith: believing what you cannot see

Hope: believing in what can be

Love: believing in the capacity of another.

Such great insights. G-Pop sat back for a moment, encouraged. After all, it is a grave injustice to allow faith, hope and love to sit on the shelf in the bookstore of life, waiting to be read.

They are active. For instance:

Faith is churning.

It is the sensation that we’re going to bust if we don’t get an opportunity to take what we think and treasure, and put it into practice.

Hope is a yearning.

It is catching a glimpse of something magnificent and rather than placing it in a book of memories, trying to transfer it onto every “things to do today list.”

And love is a burning.

It is fire deep in our souls which warms us with the notion that the more we treat others with respect and understanding, the greater the chance for us to receive the same.

The family members who responded to G-Pop were basically in the age group which is loosely referred to as “millennials.”

But they get it.

They comprehend how to translate selfish motivations to higher intangibles of universal mercy and acceptance.

The bar fight ended like all bar fights–each thug claiming victory in some way.

Now it is up to those who broke up the fight and separated the hooligans … to bring us back to an understanding of the churning of faith, the yearning of hope and the burning of love.

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Jesonian: The Jesus List… April 12, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Things to do for blog with words

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The Night Visitor… October 2, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

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shadow manHe comes very late at night, although I think he would insist it is actually early in the morning.

You see, that’s the problem. He not only has his own opinions, but definitions for terms that are separate from mine.

The creepy part is that he insists he IS me–and in my weakened state of sleepiness, I find it difficult to resist his will.

  • He has the same memories I do.
  • He has many similar beliefs.
  • He has encountered the emotional conflicts and victories which are part of my history.

But physically, he is smaller. Yes, he takes up less room. And he lets me know it.

He shares ideas with me which certainly make sense in the dim light of the evening, which don’t come to mind when I’m in the shining light of the day. He has four repetitive, nagging subjects:

  1. Why didn’t you act kinder?
  2. Do you really think you’re achieving your goal?
  3. Why do you think you can continue to be so fat and survive?
  4. Wouldn’t it be easy to change these things?

You see what I mean?

It’s an annoying mixture of reality, self-righteousness, valid points and impossibilities.

But when I’m lying there on my bed, it does make sense. I do feel the inadequacy and the conviction to improve my situation. But somehow or another, this vigorous being who visits by night is completely vanished by the morning light, leaving me with the emotions of upheaval without the step-by-step solutions to victory.

Yes, I am abandoned.

It doesn’t make me angry. It doesn’t make me sad. It just baffles me enough that I want to eat something. It triggers the worst part of my appetites, which are devouring my future birthdays.

I want to figure out how to turn the conversations with my night visitor into a true motivation, to trim up the areas of my life that have caused me to become lumbering and clumsy.

But how can I retain the impact of the midnight confession into breakfast time  and the construction of a realistic “things to do today” list?

The truthful answer is I don’t know.

I’m not sure if my visitor is an incriminator to demean me or an angelic presence trying to spur me on to more noble causes. I’m not positive that the encounters I have with him are beneficial or just aggravating enough to cause me to slip a little further down the rock-slide of bad habits.

But I guess it’s just like everything else–if we view it as good, we can somehow carve it into a position to strengthen us. If we view it as bad, it can be used to discourage us and leave us wanting.

There are parts of the philosophy of my night visitor that I desire to possess. Honestly, I can’t be as hard on myself at ten o’clock in the morning as he is at two o’clock in the morning.

But if I can take bits and pieces, maybe I can launch a great idea which could eventually cause the man that I am during the day to make peace with the visitor who comes by night.

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Deposit Yourself … February 7, 2013

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Bank of AmericaWithin the common folklore and tales of the life and times of Jonathan Richard Cring is the notion that I hate banks.

It probably sprang from my early years, when I was so poor that when I walked into one of these institutions, I always felt like everyone in the room knew that I was “weighed by my balance” and found wanting. Over the years I have moderated my feelings and generally speaking, I am fine to go to the drive-through window and put money in without too much fear possessing my soul.

Such was my mission yesterday. Arriving there, I discovered that two lanes were open at the drive-through, one labeled “commercial accounts only,” and the other  for us plebeians. In the lesser lane was a white mini van, which pulled in just in front of me. The driver reached for the magical tube, to begin the transaction. It was a woman. I pulled behind her (since I was not a “commercial account” customer).

And then it happened. As it turns out, she took the tube–not to place her deposit neatly inside, for a quick transaction–but instead to acquire a deposit ticket from the teller, which she would retrieve and sit in her minivan and make out her deposit while I waited behind her.

This is one of my pet peeves.

I thought about changing over to the commercial transaction lane. But you see, that’s where we get in trouble. We get frustrated with our present circumstances, caused by someone breaking the rules, we decide to break the rules ourselves. Then we either get caught doing it or we frustrate somebody else, who comes in, observing us breaking the rules.

I realized I had two choices. I could sit there, staring at her rear end intensely, with its “Baby On Board” bumper sticker (I assume a personal confession to her emotional status).  If I did this, I would discover that fifteen seconds would seem like ten minutes. In no time at all I would be convinced I had sat there for half an hour and would reach for my horn, to blare at the surrounding world, only to receive the edification of the lady’s middle finger.

My second choice was to turn off my engine, totally ignore the situation and do something I was planning to do after I left the bank–out-of-order from my Things to Do Today list. But after all, those little notes I jotted down for myself, to give guidance for my day, aren’t exactly the Ten Commandments.

So I turned off my engine, grabbed a book nearby that I was supposed to peruse, and became deeply engrossed in reviewing the material. So involved was I that upon finishing about eight pages, I looked up and the van had disappeared. The lane was open for my entrance.

As I started my van, from my rear came the honking of a horn. Somebody behind me had selected Choice 1.

I just laughed. “I know how you feel, fella,” I said as I rolled forward to make my deposit.

Here’s the truth–I can’t change the world. Let me go further. I can’t improve the world. What I can do is find a way to make my journey as pleasant, free of tension and forgiving as possible. In doing so, it will appear that the world directly around me has changed. If I can get several friends to join me in that quest, we can generate buffer “safe zones,” where other humans can come and not feel that they need to make excuses, lie, cheat and become angry.

This may be the best we can do. Each one of needs to deposit ourselves in an environment of our own creation, where we select to be who we want to be–no matter how frustrating the circumstances become.

Turn off your engine. Grab a book. And ignore all “babies on board.” This, too, will pass.

Then all you have to deal with … is the terror of going to the bank.

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