SENSITIZE 72
Every morning, Mr. Cring takes a personal moment with his friends.
Today: Don’t trust your own thinking–you’ll end up thoughtless. Cring explains how it works.
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Sit Down Comedy … August 7th, 2020
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“Let me think about it.”
In my youthful fervor, I was swelled with expectation when I heard him say this. Or was it her? Sometimes it was “they.”
Just realizing that after a long conversation in which I presented my case, that this human being was going to go off and think about it, kept the door open for a positive conclusion to what in the present moment seemed to be a looming negative.
“Thinking about it.”
Then the years passed.
I learned.
I discovered that no one thinks about anything.
How could we be thinking and still argue racism, gender bias, abortion, murder and supremacy of any type or any fashion?
How could we believe that human beings are musing over information—considering the results of “great debate” to draw conclusions—when we sit here on the verge of a Presidential election with basically the same statistics for the favored donkey or pet elephant that we had four years ago?
Are you trying to tell me that in four years nothing has changed to alter the consciousness of the American people whatsoever?
Or is it that we never really think about it?
Alas, alas…
The brain is a train that will not refrain until we all go insane.
You see, it’s been programmed.
By the time we are five years old, seventy percent of our mores, preferences, attitudes and fairness are already planted deep into our virgin brains by those who had been implanted themselves and don’t know what else to offer.
Intelligence is not our doorway to “peace on Earth, good will toward men.”
Education will leave us short of the need.
We are not capable of such a maneuver. This is why we purchase domesticated animals. They remind us what devotion looks like and tenderness feels like.
The brain cannot be renewed unless we learn to deal with our emotions—come clean with our feelings and allow for the possibility that the human soul could be the restoration area to feed the cranium with fresh insight.
The philosopher said, “I think, therefore I am.”
I’m sorry.
I think, therefore I am too predictable.
What makes us ablaze with potential, on fire with creativity and ignitors of legitimate love is allowing our feelings to be real, our soul to refine those sensations, renewing the brain to do something other than grump out the usual response.
Sensitize … July 21st, 2020
SENSITIZE 53
Every morning, Mr. Cring takes a personal moment with his friends.
Today: The church calls me a sinner and the world says I’m a winner. Neither one is true, says Cring.
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1 Thing You Can Do That Leads to a Second Thing
DO IT
Recently I met a young man in his mid-twenties, and when I asked him how his romantic life was going, he said, “Not very well at all.”
So I probed. “What seems to be the problem?”
“No problem,” he replied.
“I’m just holding out for the right one.”
I retorted, “You know, you could do some wrong ones while you’re waiting for the right one.”
He didn’t think I was funny.
Maybe you don’t either.
Maybe you’re one of those kinds of people who plans, organizes and prays to a weary deity, hoping that one day your ship will come in, your pot of gold will appear at the end of the rainbow, or your dream will be fulfilled.
You do realize why they make movies about people who have such miracles happen.
They’re unusual.
Most of us never end up with exactly what we envisioned
But if we have any kind of creativity, inspiration or even sense of humor, we make it work.
But we can’t do that unless we’re out there doing something instead of constantly delaying.
If the chance of you being successful the first time you do anything is small, you might as well prepare for a second or third attempt at it—especially since forgiveness is so available for those who will humbly ask.
I, for one, have grown weary of waiting.
I do not think we have to be stuck with a government that is non-functioning.
Nor that two political parties afford us sufficient choices to run that government.
Also, God is not keen on doing my job for me—living my life.
I would rather go out and do something, learn from it and have a chance to try again than spend my whole life sitting around, trying to be patient, and never having the opportunity come my way.
- If you’re going to practice, do it in front of an audience.
- If you’re going to pray, do it under your breath while you’re working.
- And if you’re looking for love, it sure as hell wouldn’t hurt you to start being lovable.
3 Things… July 12th, 2018
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That Cost Nothing
1. Thinking for yourself
2. Being thoughtful
3. Collecting wisdom
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Good News and Better News … September 19th, 2016
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It is utterly amazing how many potholes on the highway of progress can be gloriously filled in with the marvelous cement of enthusiasm and repentance.
Although many people tout the power of thinking and prayer, our thoughts are often stuck in the past, and our prayers can be pious.
When I arrived in Marlette, Michigan, to meet up with Pastor Dave and the human beings who inhabit that region, I was looking for enthusiasm and repentance. Nothing of any significance is going to happen without this pair of miracle-workers.
Enthusiasm has a simple message: “I want to be happy.”
And repentance comes along cleansing the process by offering, “And I realize I may have to change to get it.”
Without enthusiasm. we eventually regress to complaining. And absent repentance, we always become “makers of great excuse.”
I was so pleased to encounter one friend after another in this gathered array of Michiganders, who expressed enthusiasm, and with tears in their eyes, realized the necessity of repentance.
Throughout my journey I have discovered that politics does not work because it’s so afraid of failure that it lies.
Education is limited because without the spunk of perseverance, it may not survive.
And religion is nearly comical because it pursues salvation without revering personal responsibility.
But the magic of enthusiasm followed by the anointing of repentance turns the human race into a livable sort, making folks able to co-exist with one another without gossip and murder.
I think this begins with how we answer the question, “How are you?”
We can decide to hide our feelings and say “fine” with varying degrees of apathy, or we can launch into a series of woes about our present condition, hoping for sympathy.
But I have found the perfect answer to “how are you?” Here it is: “At first, a little overwhelmed, but by nightfall, kind of surprised at how well things turned out.”
I shall always remember the folks in Marlette with Pastor Dave and his evolving outreach. They brought to the sanctuary enough enthusiasm to welcome repentance.
That’s the good news.
The better news?
It turns out that enthusiasm and repentance are much easier to work with than defeat and stubbornness.
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant
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Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 19) The Writing on the Wall … September 4th, 2016
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Running ten minutes late, Meningsbee motored his way through some of the back streets of little Garsonville, on his way to the high school to speak to the creative writing class about “what’s it like to be a writer.” He was late to the appointment because Matrisse had entranced him with a tale of foolishness and woe.
When Matrisse first arrived, she referred to Kitty as “Sassy.” Meningsbee didn’t think much about it. But as she related the events from her homestead, he realized that she had no great affection for the young girl he had befriended on his overnight trip to South Dakota.
It seems Kitty had quickly become antsy hanging around home with Matrisse and Hapsy, and slipped away to the only bar in Garsonville–an establishment with nine stools, a pool table, which offered extra-hot buffalo wings to any brave takers. There, Kitty met up with a young man named Tarbo. Although Matrisse was pretty certain this was not his given Christian name, it was the only one Sassy–or Kitty–would provide.
Matrisse explained that Kitty was in tears because she wanted to go with Tarbo to Chicago, where he intended to sign up to join the Navy, to become a SEAL. Kitty was afraid if she didn’t go with him, she might never see him again, as he would certainly be sent off to fight the terrorists in foreign lands.
Long story short, Kitty wanted Matrisse to watch Hapsy for a couple of weeks so she could go chase this dream–which seemed to be ordained by God, Himself, since they met under such supernatural circumstances down at the pub.
Meningsbee had listened intently, knowing that eventually Matrisse would close off her tellings with some sort of question–that probably being, “And what are you going to do about this?”
Fortunately, he was able to make an escape because of the speaking commitment at the high school, telling Matrisse he would call her later so they could cap their conversation.
She frowned, looking at him with an old witchy evil eye, and said, as she departed the house, “It ain’t no good, Reverend.”
So still having the whole fiasco on his mind, Meningsbee arrived at the high school creative writing class to discover that four of the students had asked to be excused from the lecture, because their parents were former members of the church, and didn’t think it was right to have the preacher come to teach the children. This affrontation was more distressing to the instructor than it was to Meningsbee. He just smiled and said, “Let’s go.”
He didn’t talk long to the class–about ten minutes.
He explained to them about writing his book, The Jesus Church, what it meant to edit, how to realize when you were finished with a book, and some of the inner workings of publishing.
At the end of the class, he opened it up for Q and A–the teacher’s request. Meningsbee was pretty sure none of the kids would be very inquisitive.
After what seemed to be an interminable silence (probably only about fifteen seconds), one student raised his hand, and with a huge smirk on his face, said, “I don’t think I would like your book. I don’t believe in God.”
The classroom offered up a mixture of gasps and giggles. The teacher stepped forward to scold the boy.
Meningsbee interrupted her.
“Thank you for your question,” said Meningsbee. “Or whatever it was. I write about God because God wrote about me. It seemed the right thing to do. Polite, you know. Like coming up with a legitimate question for a guest speaker when he takes the time to come to your school. You see, God is either our Creator–or He’s nothing. If He’s nothing, He’s been really successful at extending a myth for thousands and thousands of years. If He is our Creator, then He knows how we are made. I don’t know how I’m made. Do you?”
Meningsbee didn’t wait for the boy to respond. “Didn’t think so. So I read what God wrote about me, and basically, my book is writing back what I think about Him. You see, it’s a combination of appreciation and doubt. First, I appreciate the fact that I can live. I especially like eating. I could do without bowling.”
The class mustered a giggle.
“But also, I have questions. I wonder why, since we’re all children of God, we can’t get together and find what we have in common instead of constantly harping on our differences. I wonder why my Creator tolerates idiots preaching for Him, who don’t care about anybody else, and do nothing generous in His name. And most of all, I wonder how sad He must be that an intelligent young man sitting in a schoolroom has to deny he believes in Him to look like he’s smart. So even though you didn’t ask, that’s why I wrote the book. Any more questions?”
Meningsbee quickly grabbed his papers and headed for the door.
“Didn’t think so. Thanks for your time.”
As he scurried down the hallway of the school like an alien from outer space escaping a NASCAR convention, he chuckled to himself.
He was imagining what the students must be thinking…or maybe he was just hoping he got them to do so.
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant
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