I've been to the main branch of the Kansas City, KS, library twice since they were closed for a week to orchestrate yet another change. Until today, the only change I had noticed was that the alphabetical guides did not match up with the order the books were shelved. It was a little better today. There did seem to be a lot less mysteries than previously. Today, I entered right across from the tub for returning books and walked right straight to it. There was a man there who volunteered to check in my books.
After I made my selections for new reads, I returned to the same spot. It was a light day, and the same man reached for the books and asked if I were ready to check out. I was instantaneously blindsided by another clerk who offered to teach me how to use "The Machine" to check them out. Now, a machine for such purposes is not necessarily new. I recall refusing to learn to use it after the last time they reopened. I clearly told him (same man, I think) that I definitely did not want to learn something new that day. I still don't. Apparently, nobody else does either, as in the several years since then I have not seen it used more than once. But, I guess we have no choices now. We will use the blankety blank thing, like it or lump it.
Why might I not like to use a machine? For the same reason anybody else wouldn't. It lacks the personal touch. Nobody is there to say, "Hey, how are you?" Nobody is there to answer questions. Nobody is there to tell that a book is falling apart. Just a cold, you know, lacking in warmth, hunk of metal
And, then, there is the problem of accuracy. The dude who showed me how to use it kept having to move the books around so all were recorded. That requires paying attention. That requires being on one's toes. That requires a little work -- and at the library for goodness sake -- when they are the ones getting the paycheck.
Let's not forget the main problem. As the job gets more and more automated, they will need less and less people to work there. Less people needed, less people hired. Less people hired, greater unemployment.
But then, there's a good side to less people after all. I've already put in my request to the Almighty for which clerks should go, beginning with the hateful man who answers the phone if you need to renew, right down to the clerk who forced me to use "The Machine" today (and the girl who laughed because he did it).
Things could be looking up after all. Don't let me down, God. Too bad He never listens to me.
Then, again, I could just use another of our local, more patron friendly, libraries -- Kansas City, MO, Johnson County, Midcontinent. I've used them all at some point. If enough of us did this, all these people would be unemployed. It's a thought! All of them could be the ones to deal with the curse of change.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Friday, June 12, 2015
Perky
I received a free copy of Reader's Digest this week. I've always enjoyed the magazine, but when you have a "no budget" budget, some things just have to go. I opened it at once. By page 27, it had inspired this article. It says "Finish This Sentence. The title of my autobiography would be . . ."
Patti Ebben of Appleton, Wisconsin says, "Why Does My Cheerfulness Annoy You So?"
Oh, Patti, let me count the ways. I don't know you personally, of course. I don't even know if you are a celebrity or a hard working school teacher.
Let's just describe a few ways. I get to bed at 11:30 for a change. I'm just slipping away into dreamland and the idiot that leaves the neighborhood fire pit powwow revs his engine a few times, then takes off. Tonight it isn't enough to set off my car alarm just once. He goes around the block and tries again. Between 12:30 and 1:30, a neighbor slams the front door and moves rather noisily up the stairs. Somewhere around 3:00 to 3:30 another door is slammed. If I'm lucky enough to get back to sleep at this one, another neighbor makes up for it with a slam around 4:30. At 7:30 during the school year, the little guy right next door starts getting ready for school. He really loves those boots of his. I get to be grateful for silence for another hour. Then, it starts again. Finally, if I haven't given up already, I do it now.
I sit on the side of the bed waiting for my head to quit spinning (Eustachian tube failure), then as I pull myself up by holding onto my dresser, I'm reminded of the Robert Redford character in Electric Cowboy saying it takes a little longer for the "broke parts" to work. I throw on my robe, find my keys and billfold which I must carry all day, stop by to water the commode and then limp my way down the stairs. I flip on the television and there is little Miss Perky doing her thing. Well, actually, there is a perky 1 and perky 2 on this one sometimes. It depends on what life experience the other is letting it all hang out about, whether she is manic or morose. So I switch channels where the male anchor periodically has to calm their somewhat preferable version of cheerful. I give up and wait until 9:00 when I can get Perry Mason reruns. That show hasn't "changed" in decades (LOL) and I can always count on Della Street for a classy, upbeat, well-mannered version of cheerfulness. There's no dealing with a frisky puppy or an uncontrollable teenager before I get my morning cup of coffee.
Patti Ebben of Appleton, Wisconsin says, "Why Does My Cheerfulness Annoy You So?"
Oh, Patti, let me count the ways. I don't know you personally, of course. I don't even know if you are a celebrity or a hard working school teacher.
Let's just describe a few ways. I get to bed at 11:30 for a change. I'm just slipping away into dreamland and the idiot that leaves the neighborhood fire pit powwow revs his engine a few times, then takes off. Tonight it isn't enough to set off my car alarm just once. He goes around the block and tries again. Between 12:30 and 1:30, a neighbor slams the front door and moves rather noisily up the stairs. Somewhere around 3:00 to 3:30 another door is slammed. If I'm lucky enough to get back to sleep at this one, another neighbor makes up for it with a slam around 4:30. At 7:30 during the school year, the little guy right next door starts getting ready for school. He really loves those boots of his. I get to be grateful for silence for another hour. Then, it starts again. Finally, if I haven't given up already, I do it now.
I sit on the side of the bed waiting for my head to quit spinning (Eustachian tube failure), then as I pull myself up by holding onto my dresser, I'm reminded of the Robert Redford character in Electric Cowboy saying it takes a little longer for the "broke parts" to work. I throw on my robe, find my keys and billfold which I must carry all day, stop by to water the commode and then limp my way down the stairs. I flip on the television and there is little Miss Perky doing her thing. Well, actually, there is a perky 1 and perky 2 on this one sometimes. It depends on what life experience the other is letting it all hang out about, whether she is manic or morose. So I switch channels where the male anchor periodically has to calm their somewhat preferable version of cheerful. I give up and wait until 9:00 when I can get Perry Mason reruns. That show hasn't "changed" in decades (LOL) and I can always count on Della Street for a classy, upbeat, well-mannered version of cheerfulness. There's no dealing with a frisky puppy or an uncontrollable teenager before I get my morning cup of coffee.
Friday, April 17, 2015
"Matchy, Matchy" Versus Tacky, Tacky
The fad not to be all "matchy, matchy",
Has truly become quite tacky, tacky.
I've lived so long, I've see all kinds of styles for dress and interior decorating. What for one generation is a sign of poor taste will become a fad a couple of generations later. But, really folks, the styles of the young stylists and decorators are going to invoke the need for eye transplants if we don't watch out. We are subjected to clashing, gaudy colors and clashing, clashing patterns ad nauseam.
Once in a while, we win some when the fads change. Some of my favorite color combinations today were once forbidden as style ineptitude. The use of brown with black as well as blue with green were seen as faux pas when I was in elementary school. I remember the great pleasure I found in the blouse I got after high school which showed a rusty brown and black on a white background. It was around all of the time after that. The banishment of blue against green was perhaps the most mysterious rule. I don't know how designers and decorators could have looked at God's blue sky against a green hill and found something wrong with that. Finally, they got some sense. We use them together in all shades and tints now.
During the early eighties, the big thing was to consult a specialist to find out our colors. We were divided into four groups based on the seasons. There were certain colors a "winter" should and shouldn't wear. Actually, most of the time it did improve the way women looked. The biggest mistake of this trend was telling us if we couldn't match the hem of our skirts with our shoes, then we should wear shoes that matched our hair. I still get a toothache thinking of seeing a woman in a print dress of wine and white and black print wearing rust colored shoes that did, indeed, match her poorly dyed hair. And, no, I would never say a word. Doing that would be in poor taste. She was an acquaintance who had just paid a color consultant for advice. By the way, our seasons of color were based on our skin tones and eye and hair color.
The trend not to be all "matchy, matchy", has been around a while. Apparently this new generation of style gurus sees something wrong with having shoes and purse in the same color, so they might choose black shoes with a red purse and an outfit that neither matches nor complements the combo. Say what? I've seen some lulus being shown as "a proper way to dress."
There is a long-term trend I can't wait to see end. This thing of having a blouse or shirt hanging out below a sweater or vest, like a high school kid's mother's worst nightmare, is a fad that should have had no beginning. It's almost as bizarre as watching a teenager's underpants show above his jeans or shorts.
The nightmare trends in decorating are almost as bad. A person could go cross eyed looking at pictures of rooms that combine geometrics with plaids, stripes, etc., etc., etc. It really does assail the senses. One or two predominant designs per room is really quite enough. Overkill in any endeavor has never been in good taste, fad or not.
And then there is the problem of designers going in and telling a client that their current scheme is not "them" at all. Now how in the world would the designer know what "them" is? Besides, it's downright rude. One article published had the designer telling the client that silks and colors were not them and switching the client to fabric that looked like pillow ticking -- changing her from luxury fabric to something that is commonplace among poor people who can't afford sheets and pillow cases. Beware of designers looking for work.
Just about bottom line is that nobody knows what you like better than you, no matter how experienced, famous or wealthy they are. If you feel peace or serenity or get a sense of thrill when you walk into a room, then you are the expert on what is you. I've heard such bizarre things as "you shouldn't use end tables at either end of a couch. You shouldn't use tables as they were designed to be used? Get real. But never fear, next year or the year after, everything will change again. How else can they keep those dollars rolling into their coffers if they leave everything the same?
Has truly become quite tacky, tacky.
I've lived so long, I've see all kinds of styles for dress and interior decorating. What for one generation is a sign of poor taste will become a fad a couple of generations later. But, really folks, the styles of the young stylists and decorators are going to invoke the need for eye transplants if we don't watch out. We are subjected to clashing, gaudy colors and clashing, clashing patterns ad nauseam.
Once in a while, we win some when the fads change. Some of my favorite color combinations today were once forbidden as style ineptitude. The use of brown with black as well as blue with green were seen as faux pas when I was in elementary school. I remember the great pleasure I found in the blouse I got after high school which showed a rusty brown and black on a white background. It was around all of the time after that. The banishment of blue against green was perhaps the most mysterious rule. I don't know how designers and decorators could have looked at God's blue sky against a green hill and found something wrong with that. Finally, they got some sense. We use them together in all shades and tints now.
During the early eighties, the big thing was to consult a specialist to find out our colors. We were divided into four groups based on the seasons. There were certain colors a "winter" should and shouldn't wear. Actually, most of the time it did improve the way women looked. The biggest mistake of this trend was telling us if we couldn't match the hem of our skirts with our shoes, then we should wear shoes that matched our hair. I still get a toothache thinking of seeing a woman in a print dress of wine and white and black print wearing rust colored shoes that did, indeed, match her poorly dyed hair. And, no, I would never say a word. Doing that would be in poor taste. She was an acquaintance who had just paid a color consultant for advice. By the way, our seasons of color were based on our skin tones and eye and hair color.
The trend not to be all "matchy, matchy", has been around a while. Apparently this new generation of style gurus sees something wrong with having shoes and purse in the same color, so they might choose black shoes with a red purse and an outfit that neither matches nor complements the combo. Say what? I've seen some lulus being shown as "a proper way to dress."
There is a long-term trend I can't wait to see end. This thing of having a blouse or shirt hanging out below a sweater or vest, like a high school kid's mother's worst nightmare, is a fad that should have had no beginning. It's almost as bizarre as watching a teenager's underpants show above his jeans or shorts.
The nightmare trends in decorating are almost as bad. A person could go cross eyed looking at pictures of rooms that combine geometrics with plaids, stripes, etc., etc., etc. It really does assail the senses. One or two predominant designs per room is really quite enough. Overkill in any endeavor has never been in good taste, fad or not.
And then there is the problem of designers going in and telling a client that their current scheme is not "them" at all. Now how in the world would the designer know what "them" is? Besides, it's downright rude. One article published had the designer telling the client that silks and colors were not them and switching the client to fabric that looked like pillow ticking -- changing her from luxury fabric to something that is commonplace among poor people who can't afford sheets and pillow cases. Beware of designers looking for work.
Just about bottom line is that nobody knows what you like better than you, no matter how experienced, famous or wealthy they are. If you feel peace or serenity or get a sense of thrill when you walk into a room, then you are the expert on what is you. I've heard such bizarre things as "you shouldn't use end tables at either end of a couch. You shouldn't use tables as they were designed to be used? Get real. But never fear, next year or the year after, everything will change again. How else can they keep those dollars rolling into their coffers if they leave everything the same?
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Sexual Orientation -- Not A Choice -- Physiology
About the only humans who can choose their sexual orientation are those born bisexual. We simply are wired how we are wired and nothing in this age can change that. In my article "Probably Not The Final Word, But . . .", I presented my somewhat alien theory that an increase in gay and lesbian populations in each great empire may be caused by overcrowding, and it would still be physiological if that were to prove the case. I will even venture to say that if you are absolutely sure that it is a choice because, based on your experience, you made the righteous choice, then you are probably wired both ways. Apparently Freud was, as he saw all humans as being closet gays.
Picture the struggle of the young male, who with the children in his neighborhood, called the enemies by the worst word they could think about -- faggots. Have you ever thought of the mental issues derived from his struggle when he begins to realize he is gay? This is not his choice. This is how he was born. I've seen it happen.
I think the problem of the human species, which shows its ugly head in a lot of controversies, is that we want to hold ourselves as superior to all other species. We think we are better than a cow or a horse or a worm or a snake and therefore we spend our time and efforts in trying to prove so.
"They are acting like animals," is a frequent complaint. Well, they are animals and so are the rest of us. So generations of humans have exerted great efforts to prove their basic wish that they are better than other species and better than each other.
The Jewish and Christian scriptures tell of God creating first man and first woman. First man was placed in the garden which God had made in the east of Eden. He was told he could eat from all the trees but the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Many cultures today still translate sex as the "fruit of that tree" from which Adam was not to eat. Big error, folks! Adam was put in the garden and told not to eat of the tree even before God made the animals . . . way before He made Eve. So, the forbidden fruit really was about knowledge and good and evil. It was not about sex.
It's easier, now that we have spent so much time worrying about the Middle East and seeing the ugliness of the hate there, for us to understand how the oral stories of early man became so conflicted that sex became the eternal sin. But when you think about it, modern man can turn anything into a sin. "If it tastes good, it must be bad for you." "If it is greasy thou shalt not touch it." "Oh, wow, we were wrong! It's sugar we should avoid." And, "I'm so much superior to you because I don't touch either one."
Sex of some sort is how animals of all sorts reproduce. Sex is not only physiological, it is a biological requirement of maintaining the species, no matter what kind we are.
Now, we get to the chemistry of it all. Our bodies respond chemically -- physically -- to each other, or not. Since the demise of my marriage, I've spent more than twice as many years single as I was married. I've had plenty of time to figure out a "type" to which my body can and cannot respond. Ideal man almost always would be between size 5'8" and 5' 10" or 11". He would have some shade of brown hair or either pure white. He would be of stocky build and barrel chested. He would almost never have blonde or black hair. And he should be within a decade of my own age, either way.
I even classify "turn-ons" as primary or secondary. You know how some people swear they fell in love at first sight, but others say that's not possible, because they don't know each other. That love at first sight is chemistry at first sight and for rare people, it can be so strong that it lasts a lifetime. There are, of course, exceptions to all "rules" of chemical attraction -- like a predilection for scrawny little redheads, even after their hair has gone white.
A secondary "turn-on" is a relationship that wasn't much at first sight, but grows from getting to know each other and appreciating each other's good qualities like kindness, intelligence, compatibility. Herein lies the love part, folks.
I think the primary turn-on has a basis in physiology that goes even beyond simple attraction. Let's say, a 6' 7" man and a 5' 0" woman were to marry. It doesn't take much brainwork to anticipate that she will have trouble delivering his children, does it? So the body usually makes subtle and subconscious choices for us from the get-go.
You see, chemistry rules some choices in and some choices out. But it is how we get on outside the bedrooms that should choose our mates. If we have to place a "religious" evaluation on sexual orientation, perhaps we can choose to leave sexual orientation and choice of mates in God's hands. Since God remains mostly silent these days, we might have trouble reading his wishes. But still, whether we have a choice of whom our bodies respond to is based on how God created us. Whom we choose as mates depends on how well we get along with each other. The longer we spend together, the more the love grows, or not.
No wonder people revel in the right to choose their own mates. How can our parents know what person inspires our chemistry or what one repels us? How can the right person who can work things out best with us be chosen by a father who has his eye out toward building his own empire?
Yet, people want to ignore their animal instincts -- chemistry -- by referring to all sexual attraction as "love", and the more romantic, the better. You can help whom you love. Whom you hang around with, grow close to and eventually marry is a choice. It's just that the body responds without control, but love grows when we choose the best people to whom the body responds -- the ones who meet our nonsexual needs as well.
We should not place ourselves as critics of another's choice, especially the physiological part which is not in our control. We should not choose another man's mate any more than we would want him to choose ours. And we bloody well are not superior to any other being whether our species or not.
Picture the struggle of the young male, who with the children in his neighborhood, called the enemies by the worst word they could think about -- faggots. Have you ever thought of the mental issues derived from his struggle when he begins to realize he is gay? This is not his choice. This is how he was born. I've seen it happen.
I think the problem of the human species, which shows its ugly head in a lot of controversies, is that we want to hold ourselves as superior to all other species. We think we are better than a cow or a horse or a worm or a snake and therefore we spend our time and efforts in trying to prove so.
"They are acting like animals," is a frequent complaint. Well, they are animals and so are the rest of us. So generations of humans have exerted great efforts to prove their basic wish that they are better than other species and better than each other.
The Jewish and Christian scriptures tell of God creating first man and first woman. First man was placed in the garden which God had made in the east of Eden. He was told he could eat from all the trees but the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Many cultures today still translate sex as the "fruit of that tree" from which Adam was not to eat. Big error, folks! Adam was put in the garden and told not to eat of the tree even before God made the animals . . . way before He made Eve. So, the forbidden fruit really was about knowledge and good and evil. It was not about sex.
It's easier, now that we have spent so much time worrying about the Middle East and seeing the ugliness of the hate there, for us to understand how the oral stories of early man became so conflicted that sex became the eternal sin. But when you think about it, modern man can turn anything into a sin. "If it tastes good, it must be bad for you." "If it is greasy thou shalt not touch it." "Oh, wow, we were wrong! It's sugar we should avoid." And, "I'm so much superior to you because I don't touch either one."
Sex of some sort is how animals of all sorts reproduce. Sex is not only physiological, it is a biological requirement of maintaining the species, no matter what kind we are.
Now, we get to the chemistry of it all. Our bodies respond chemically -- physically -- to each other, or not. Since the demise of my marriage, I've spent more than twice as many years single as I was married. I've had plenty of time to figure out a "type" to which my body can and cannot respond. Ideal man almost always would be between size 5'8" and 5' 10" or 11". He would have some shade of brown hair or either pure white. He would be of stocky build and barrel chested. He would almost never have blonde or black hair. And he should be within a decade of my own age, either way.
I even classify "turn-ons" as primary or secondary. You know how some people swear they fell in love at first sight, but others say that's not possible, because they don't know each other. That love at first sight is chemistry at first sight and for rare people, it can be so strong that it lasts a lifetime. There are, of course, exceptions to all "rules" of chemical attraction -- like a predilection for scrawny little redheads, even after their hair has gone white.
A secondary "turn-on" is a relationship that wasn't much at first sight, but grows from getting to know each other and appreciating each other's good qualities like kindness, intelligence, compatibility. Herein lies the love part, folks.
I think the primary turn-on has a basis in physiology that goes even beyond simple attraction. Let's say, a 6' 7" man and a 5' 0" woman were to marry. It doesn't take much brainwork to anticipate that she will have trouble delivering his children, does it? So the body usually makes subtle and subconscious choices for us from the get-go.
You see, chemistry rules some choices in and some choices out. But it is how we get on outside the bedrooms that should choose our mates. If we have to place a "religious" evaluation on sexual orientation, perhaps we can choose to leave sexual orientation and choice of mates in God's hands. Since God remains mostly silent these days, we might have trouble reading his wishes. But still, whether we have a choice of whom our bodies respond to is based on how God created us. Whom we choose as mates depends on how well we get along with each other. The longer we spend together, the more the love grows, or not.
No wonder people revel in the right to choose their own mates. How can our parents know what person inspires our chemistry or what one repels us? How can the right person who can work things out best with us be chosen by a father who has his eye out toward building his own empire?
Yet, people want to ignore their animal instincts -- chemistry -- by referring to all sexual attraction as "love", and the more romantic, the better. You can help whom you love. Whom you hang around with, grow close to and eventually marry is a choice. It's just that the body responds without control, but love grows when we choose the best people to whom the body responds -- the ones who meet our nonsexual needs as well.
We should not place ourselves as critics of another's choice, especially the physiological part which is not in our control. We should not choose another man's mate any more than we would want him to choose ours. And we bloody well are not superior to any other being whether our species or not.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Obedience
John Ruskin, an author who critiqued art and architecture during the 1800's, is said to have had the following architectural ideals -- obedience, truth, power, beauty, life, memory and sacrifice. Good thing I'm not an architect because I can't fathom a building obeying anyone or anything. How about you? But then, obeying was never my greatest skill when I was young. Don't misunderstand. I wasn't one of those disobedient kids at school. I did everything by the book there. I even told on myself for slapping the kid that kissed me at recess. It was first grade.
Nevertheless, I had a bad rep at home. My mother found herself driven to exquisite forms of punishment over my "sassy" mouth. It was so bad that one of my brothers told me that I had always been the most rebellious person he had ever known. I told him I thought I'd always had a lot to rebel against.
Why is it people are told they need to obey everyone? We got a stomach full of it at church. We were to obey God, our parents, our teachers, our older neighbors, our older siblings and on and on and on. "Trust and obey, for there's no other way. . ."
If our parents neglected to teach obedience, we got another goodly measure of it at school. Come on little ducklings. Get yourselves all in a row. Even the birds assume a V formation. Everyone in their place and a place for everyone. Get back in that line. Keep your lines straight.
Then when we get through twelve or thirteen years of conforming obedience, they start yelling for us to think outside the box. Duh!
Mind your p's and q's. Listen to your teacher. Don't you dare stray from the group. Take care of your "due diligence". They take the creativity right out of life with all their rule making. Federal law. State law. County, city, coop, school . . . rules, rules, rules. Well, you've got your rules so embedded that we almost flip out when someone runs into us because he is walking down the left side of a hallway. Didn't he learn anything in school?
And then we have Mr. Ruskin saying a building needs to have obedience. Really now! Aren't you the original little ole control freak? Even inanimate objects are required to obey you. Or are they? Inanimate, I mean! A building stands there proudly, larger than life and exuding beauty, obedience, truth, power, life, memory and sacrifice . . .
. . . exuding "creativity", which from obedience doth not come.
Nevertheless, I had a bad rep at home. My mother found herself driven to exquisite forms of punishment over my "sassy" mouth. It was so bad that one of my brothers told me that I had always been the most rebellious person he had ever known. I told him I thought I'd always had a lot to rebel against.
Why is it people are told they need to obey everyone? We got a stomach full of it at church. We were to obey God, our parents, our teachers, our older neighbors, our older siblings and on and on and on. "Trust and obey, for there's no other way. . ."
If our parents neglected to teach obedience, we got another goodly measure of it at school. Come on little ducklings. Get yourselves all in a row. Even the birds assume a V formation. Everyone in their place and a place for everyone. Get back in that line. Keep your lines straight.
Then when we get through twelve or thirteen years of conforming obedience, they start yelling for us to think outside the box. Duh!
Mind your p's and q's. Listen to your teacher. Don't you dare stray from the group. Take care of your "due diligence". They take the creativity right out of life with all their rule making. Federal law. State law. County, city, coop, school . . . rules, rules, rules. Well, you've got your rules so embedded that we almost flip out when someone runs into us because he is walking down the left side of a hallway. Didn't he learn anything in school?
And then we have Mr. Ruskin saying a building needs to have obedience. Really now! Aren't you the original little ole control freak? Even inanimate objects are required to obey you. Or are they? Inanimate, I mean! A building stands there proudly, larger than life and exuding beauty, obedience, truth, power, life, memory and sacrifice . . .
. . . exuding "creativity", which from obedience doth not come.
Friday, March 20, 2015
Game Playing In Everyday Life
Some people become so bored with their jobs that they begin to engage in game playing. Most of you know about game playing by this time. Transactional Analysis, a phenomenon I refer to as a layman's approach to psychology, describes games as ways of structuring time. They can be either conscious or subconscious. In other words, we can be either aware or unaware that we have gotten ourselves caught up in games. But that doesn't make them any less real.
They can be played by clerks and secretaries in offices. They can be played by teachers. Even psychologists and psychiatrists can find themselves engaged in them. It would not be unheard of to find anyone, say mail carriers, involved.
The problem with games is that they leave no winners. Everyone walks away from games with bad feelings. The victim, of course, feels the put-down he was meant to feel. But the perpetrator never quite gets the desired satisfaction much less the high he is seeking. Best for all concerned that we all try to avoid starting or getting hooked in games.
They can be played by clerks and secretaries in offices. They can be played by teachers. Even psychologists and psychiatrists can find themselves engaged in them. It would not be unheard of to find anyone, say mail carriers, involved.
The problem with games is that they leave no winners. Everyone walks away from games with bad feelings. The victim, of course, feels the put-down he was meant to feel. But the perpetrator never quite gets the desired satisfaction much less the high he is seeking. Best for all concerned that we all try to avoid starting or getting hooked in games.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Sour Grapes or Religious Fact?
There are several mentions on Facebook that criticize what are being called "prosperity" religious programs. You know the ones -- they tell us that God wants his people to have abundance in their lives. Some of the criticisms mention specific programs. Others are just general messages.
One such critique told of a man and his wife who were students living in near poverty conditions. The gentleman said they really wanted to believe that God would offer abundance to his children who truly believed and who tithed their income. But it apparently did not work out for them.
My experience with these types of ministers is limited to Oral Roberts, Kenneth Copeland and Joel Osteen. They have all at one time or another taught those of us who will listen that it is necessary to stay in the faith while believing God for a financial -- or healing -- or whatever needed -- miracle in our lives. Telling God every other day that his assistance is lacking or a day late and a dollar short hardly qualifies as staying in the faith.
What these ministers offer is hope and a positive approach to religion. If you had heard some of the hellfire and brimstone sermons that I have heard over the years, you would welcome such ministers with open arms. Jesus, himself, though not one hundred per cent positive was certainly not one of the hellfire and brimstone types. He taught love and faith and hope and charity. He taught us not to judge others. He taught us to turn the other cheek. He said we should cast the first stone only if we, ourselves, were above reproach.
I think with some of the authors of these critiques, we see a little sour grapes. While the critic's churches are dwindling in attendance, the "prosperity" preachers have to find sports arenas to hold their crowds.
Perhaps one way to determine the genuine belief and trustworthiness of the pastors is to look for examples of faith rewarded in them and their families. For instance, Joel Osteen tells a story about his mother's desire to have her own swimming pool. For years and years, she prayed for a pool. She positively stated she was going to have one. She measured the space and told everyone that was where it would be put. Her husband was always very negative about the idea. They couldn't afford it he would say. Then, one day someone told him that he wanted to give the family a swimming pool. Dear old dad responded in the negative about the prospect. But Joel's mother gratefully accepted. When her husband donned swimming trunks to swim with the family, she jokingly told him that he couldn't swim in her pool This kind of faith is a telling factor in the family belief system. And possibly it is the main reason God listens to and rewards their positive prayers.
There are sometimes other factors why God doesn't give us a positive answer to our prayers. For instance, sometimes we need the lessons we can learn from doing without our heart's desires. Sometimes he is preparing us for our greatest challenges.
Joel Osteen always cautions us by saying that we will have the finances, skills and resources to fulfill whatever plan God wants us to handle as long as we stay in the faith.
Do you suffer from sour grape syndrome, or are you one of the positive thinkers?
One such critique told of a man and his wife who were students living in near poverty conditions. The gentleman said they really wanted to believe that God would offer abundance to his children who truly believed and who tithed their income. But it apparently did not work out for them.
My experience with these types of ministers is limited to Oral Roberts, Kenneth Copeland and Joel Osteen. They have all at one time or another taught those of us who will listen that it is necessary to stay in the faith while believing God for a financial -- or healing -- or whatever needed -- miracle in our lives. Telling God every other day that his assistance is lacking or a day late and a dollar short hardly qualifies as staying in the faith.
What these ministers offer is hope and a positive approach to religion. If you had heard some of the hellfire and brimstone sermons that I have heard over the years, you would welcome such ministers with open arms. Jesus, himself, though not one hundred per cent positive was certainly not one of the hellfire and brimstone types. He taught love and faith and hope and charity. He taught us not to judge others. He taught us to turn the other cheek. He said we should cast the first stone only if we, ourselves, were above reproach.
I think with some of the authors of these critiques, we see a little sour grapes. While the critic's churches are dwindling in attendance, the "prosperity" preachers have to find sports arenas to hold their crowds.
Perhaps one way to determine the genuine belief and trustworthiness of the pastors is to look for examples of faith rewarded in them and their families. For instance, Joel Osteen tells a story about his mother's desire to have her own swimming pool. For years and years, she prayed for a pool. She positively stated she was going to have one. She measured the space and told everyone that was where it would be put. Her husband was always very negative about the idea. They couldn't afford it he would say. Then, one day someone told him that he wanted to give the family a swimming pool. Dear old dad responded in the negative about the prospect. But Joel's mother gratefully accepted. When her husband donned swimming trunks to swim with the family, she jokingly told him that he couldn't swim in her pool This kind of faith is a telling factor in the family belief system. And possibly it is the main reason God listens to and rewards their positive prayers.
There are sometimes other factors why God doesn't give us a positive answer to our prayers. For instance, sometimes we need the lessons we can learn from doing without our heart's desires. Sometimes he is preparing us for our greatest challenges.
Joel Osteen always cautions us by saying that we will have the finances, skills and resources to fulfill whatever plan God wants us to handle as long as we stay in the faith.
Do you suffer from sour grape syndrome, or are you one of the positive thinkers?
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