Sunday, February 18, 2018

Makes me wonder.

My brother was an atheist. A good guy, too. Kindly. Compassionate. Trustworthy. I’ve evolved. In a significant different direction. As a non-denominational spiritual free-thinker. I believe in a creator. Not in the exact same way as members of some conservative organized religions. I’ve been occasionally called an atheist. Doesn’t faze me. After all, I know better. With certainty. I have direct conversations. With my creator. He’s just as kind and compassionate as my dear brother. Who’s no longer residing on Planet Earth. He’s up there. Somewhere. A free spirit. Roaming the cosmos. Yes, Bruce, now has reason to believe. In the afterlife.  He’s living it. It’s up to him. To decide whether this is courtesy of a creator. For all I know, he may still be a confirmed atheist. He’s stubborn that way. Majored in philosophy. At the University of Wisconsin. Meanwhile, I went to a small liberal arts college. With Evangelical ties. And a seminary on the same campus. I had a double major. English and History. Indeed, an experience quite different. Than that of my brother. Makes me wonder. If we had traded our life experiences. Would I have been more like my brother? And my brother more like me? Gives me something to think about. And to discuss. Next time. With my creator. --Jim Broede

The peril of abstract thought.

My consciousness. My stream of thought. My awareness. Erupts. From my life experience. Or so I assume. I’d probably be quite different.  Perhaps unrecognizable. From who and what I am today. If I had been raised. In a different culture. In a different place. Causing me to wonder. How the essence of my being. Comes about. Perhaps I was born. With a clean slate. With a blank soul. And given the opportunity. To create my own soul. Letting it evolve. Naturally. In reaction. To the events in my convoluted life. Yes, that’s the way I choose to think. In the abstract. Thereby leaving everyone thoroughly confused --Jim Broede

Saturday, February 17, 2018

Sounds a bit too horrid.

Maybe. Some day. I’ll announce. I have nothing more to say. That I’ve already said it all. So might as well. Clam up. And disappear. Into the vast void. Maybe that’s what I should have done. Right from the start. Kept my mouth shut.  So that I’d have nothing to erase. Perhaps that’s the course taken my most people. They’re never heard from. Just as soon. Not be part of the vocal minority. Blending instead. Into the silent majority. Yes. Imagine that. Sounds a bit too horrid. No longer being a troublemaker. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Yes, I'm making up.

Thinking today. About how much a cat. Dear Marcello. Adds to my life. What a blessing. He’s a major source of my happiness. Interesting, isn’t it? I grew up. Without any pets. Mother was opposed to pets. Didn’t think we kids. Would tend to a dog. And she’d be the responsible one. Too much work. Too much cleaning up. Anyway, things changed. For me. When I got married. There was never any question about it. Jeanne came with three dogs. Including a very protective German shepherd.  And a blind cocker spaniel. I was hooked. And not long thereafter, daughter Kiki brought home a stray cat. I protested. To no avail. And I became the one that welcomed strays. Dogs and cats. As many as five stray cats at one time. I’m hopelessly in love. With cats. Before Marcello, it was Loverboy. Yes, I’m making up. For what I missed in my youth. Better late than never. --Jim Broede

The creator. On my side.

I’m ‘outrageous.’ Or so I’m told. Because I’m a spiritual free-thinker. And a buddy. Of the creator himself. I talk to him. Regularly. Actual conversations. Apparently, that’s considered blasphemy. By a severe critic. Meanwhile, my creator tells me. ‘Don’t let it bother you.’ I’m following his advice. Good to have him on my side. --Jim Broede

Laughter. A life saver.

Norman Cousins, the political journalist and author, was diagnosed in 1964 with a rare disease. And given only a few months to live. So he decided to die laughing. Watching videos of his favorite comics. He immersed himself in humor, in laughter. On a daily basis. Lo and  behold, Cousins lived for another 26 years. Until 1990.  He later lectured (I attended one, in Arizona) and  claimed that laughter saved his life. No joke. I believe it. Cousins said, ‘Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.’ --Jim Broede

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Being funny. A risky business.

Sure, I poke fun. When maybe I shouldn’t. I like to laugh. At myself. And at others, too. Maybe my biggest mistake. Is poking fun at people. In no mood to laugh. I catch them at the wrong time. Or their sense of humor. Doesn’t jibe with mine. Humor is a funny thing. Especially when aimed at serious people at serious times. At a funeral, for instance. Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn’t. In a roomful of people, if I get up on stage, and start telling jokes. Some will laugh. Others might jeer. Or look at me with scorn. It’s risky business. Exploiting the funny side of life. --Jim Broede