Human Behaviour, Human Nature, Uncategorized

Flooding in Texas

“There’s a reason for everything,” they say. Humans are too finite to understand the infinite; however, we do understand the outpouring of help to others and how this impacts the human situation.

God bless those who are helping, and those who need the help; humans and their pets.

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Uncategorized

Benefits of Complaining?

When the weather doesn’t suit us, when the roads are too bumpy, when we have to wait too long… who doesn’t complain?

We are risking being sucked down into a spiral of negativity. One complain leaving the mouth open the gates for darkening our minds. Sounds a little over the top, but if you thing about it, it’s true. Perhaps a woman complains to a friend about her husband, when’s the last time it stopped at one issue?

We humans have a hard time waiting. Technology zips things into place in a second. Waiting is an exercise in patience. Nobody likes it. We live in a fast-paced world. This pace makes it even more difficult for those who have mental illness to contend with. It’s the rushing that makes mentally ill people panic and second-guess themselves. Not because they’re slow, rather because they know, innately, urgency produces worry. Back to the spiral again with that. People who are not mentally ill experience the needling emotions nonetheless. Rushing a meal causes hiccups and indigestion. Rushing things in our lives causes panic, oversight.

Personally, I am waiting for something important right now. You are, too. We all are, at different intervals of our lives. All I can suggest is what I have recently learned: complaining slows things down. Being fixated on the time it takes for something, drags out the process in my mind. This can literally be likened, on a smaller scale, to waiting for a kettle to boil.

If we’re waiting for a legal document, it’s far better to engage in reading and learning about said subject rather than allow our minds to become preoccupied with the wait. “All things in good time,” although we fight against the adage as a result of impatience.

Unless we are complaining to bring about a much needed favourable change, it’s best to be thankful for all circumstances. Blessing arise from thanking. Seems too weird to be true? Test it and see, go back and remember hard times that were a blessing in disguise.

If situations were not overtly blessings, then they were lessons for our own progress in this fallen world. Those lessons are gruelling; however, not one meaningful accomplishment is borne of our comfort zone.

Thanks for reading, God bless—cheers~

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Uncategorized

A Poem about Summer Slovens

AS IF ANGRY

She began as if friendly,
That pretty day,
To mother the throng in the park,
To permit their play.

No angst and no reason to abandon their plans
To line up for climbs, twists and plummets
On steep skeletal frames.
For some, a summertime dare to prepare
For psychotic amusement—pitch dark to unnerve
—Silent ghosts appear to touch, taunt and scare.
On this sumptuous day,
Perhaps paltry prizes
For enduring game gamblers,
Or one could gorge on sweets, greasy ribs
And fat burgers.

Crushed pop cans, foam cups, candy floss holders; Waxed wrappers, wasted serviettes, lost tickets,
Even striped straws smeared with lipstick…
All was well for the trash-dripping humans
Creating weak Ozone—no concern.

She began as if nurturing, that gentle day.
But her breath was the warning,
Tenacious and damp,
As if to blow on a long cake
Too large to guess age or count candles.
No other caution she gave,
Not even to musicians plugged into the band shell.
She came as if angry.
Somber mood and thunderous steps;
Blew down a few tents;
Knocked over a petite human guest.

She brought with her a bruised sky.
Bright spikes from those crowded clouds
Tore through steel-grey’s supple flesh.
And then, her stern rain.

Mama-atmosphere at first had smiled,
Endorsing their frolic outside,
Yet it seemed she had lied.
She chastised once more,
An emotional tone,
And let her cold tears pour,
Forcing the throng to clear
Allowing her to cleanse the Slovens’ playpen.

For this is Planet Earth;
First hers, not theirs.

Alas, the humans would be back;
Litter scattered.
Disrespect.

And so she brewed…
She’d be back, too.

L. P. Penner

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