God dislikes being called god.

I create my own little world. Maybe that makes me a little like god. Because I’m a creator. Albeit, a creator of a very little world. And it may be largely a world that exists in my imagination. And my world is in a state of flux. It changes from day to day. Depending on my whim and focus. The nicest thing about having my own little world is that I can shut out much of what I don’t want. My world exists in a protective cocoon. Because I don’t want to accept much of the world around me. I didn’t create it. But I’ve created my cocoon. I know what to let in and out. I’ve designed it to my specifications. And I pretty much set the rules. Because I’m the master of my cocoon. That makes me comfortable. I let other people in. But only a special few. Kindred spirits. In a way, the cocoon is a garden. With flowers. And trees. Including the tree of knowledge. I eat fruit from the tree daily. Without fear of being punished or reprimanded. In fact, I have the approval of god. He wants me to not only feel like a creator. But to be his understudy. By practicing the role of a grand creator. In modest ways. To better understand why god really wants to be called The Creator. Yes, god dislikes being called god. –Jim Broede

Losing more and better than others.

For the ninth time this season, the Chicago Cubs had an opportunity to win three straight games. But once again, the Cubs failed. Or so the sportswriters tell us. They use the word ‘failure’ in describing the Cubs futility. But I consider it a success. An achievement. Being the only team in major league baseball that has yet to win three in a row. Imagine that. Here the season is half over. The Cubs are on course to set a very distinctive record. A whole 162-game season. Without winning three consecutive games. The Cubs flirt with three straight. They even had a 4-2 lead in the 7th inning today. But still, they managed to lose 6-4. All I can say is go Cubs, go. Don’t be ashamed. You Cubs are very, very good at losing. More and better than anyone else. –Jim Broede

God's ironclad rule.

I try to not allow myself to be sad. At least, for very long. I’d rather allow sadness only on a momentary basis. Because often I can’t do anything about whatever it is that makes me sad. If I continue to lament endlessly, it doesn’t do any good. In fact, it’s likely to do mental and physical and emotional harm. That’s why I put up with political nonsense. Because I can’t do anything about it. Or if something tragic happens. Such as a devastating earthquake. I can’t undo the earthquake. Maybe even god can’t. Maybe god himself has limits. I imagine that god is a truly happy being. Anything but sad. Otherwise, it would make no sense being god. Therefore, I try to emulate god. I’d think that god would actively discourage people from being sad. Especially if it’s a prolonged sadness. Such as clinical depression. Hard for me to imagine god going into full-scale depression. Not with all the wherewithal at god’s disposal. God could merely talk to himself. Yes, use talk therapy. He wouldn’t have to take an anti-depressant. He’d talk himself into happiness. In the kingdom of heaven, no sadness is allowed. I’m sure of it. That is god’s ironclad rule. –Jim Broede

A real paradise beckons.

I’m not so sure there’s such a place as a tropical paradise. At least, not in Minnesota. Where we are known mostly for snow and cold. But today, it’s tropical. Too tropical. Temperatures in the 90s. Accompanied by ungodly humidity. Dew points in the mid- and upper-70s. Fortunately, I have air-conditioning. Anyway, it’s effective relief. I’m convinced it’s much easier trekking outdoors when it’s 30 below zero and windy. Rather than tropical. Oh, I’ll still find a way to pedal my bicycle at least 30 miles today. Maybe late in the afternoon. Or early evening. Because I don’t want the weather to beat me. Thankfully, this heat wave won’t last long. A cooler front is supposed to move in tonight. A few weeks ago, we had a high of 103 degrees. The first triple-digit temperature in 5 years. But the next day, the high was 73. As for today, I hear reports of 60 degrees in Duluth. On the north shore of Lake Superior. And that’s only 120 miles away. I’m tempted. To go to a real paradise. It’s only a two-hour drive away. –Jim Broede

Unconditional love. Fact or fantasy?

I think it’s a privilege to be an Alzheimer care-giver. Especially when caring for a loved one. It’s a way to test one’s unconditional love. And really unconditional love may be the only form of true love. Yes, this is theoretical. But I like to delve into the theoretical aspects of life and love. Many people tell me there are limits to love. But still, I suspect that real love has to be limitless. Unconditional, so to speak. I like that notion. The unconditional. Maybe from the practical point of view that’s impossible. No such thing as unconditional love. But there is. Theoretically. You gotta admit that. I wonder if it’s ever been achieved. Beyond dispute. –Jim Broede

Maybe there is a forever.

People flit in and out of my life. Seems like nobody is there forever. Maybe for a long time. But not forever. Or maybe I’m fooling myself. They are there forever. Only that I relegate them to lesser roles. Or maybe it’s that they relegate me. Write me off. Or just plain disappear. Vanish. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that I remove them from my conscious thought. I might even forget their names. Really, there’s so very much occurring in life. I can’t keep track of it all. Things happen to me. Around me. And I ignore much of it. Maybe because it doesn’t seem significant. I pick and choose what’s significant. My mother. My father. They are both gone. And present. Used to be I could have direct conversations with ‘em. But still, I ignored many opportunities. And I can only imagine what they’d have to say now. Because they are spirits. But then, maybe I can talk to spirits in more meaningful ways than if they were physically here. Really, I should not place limits on communication. On the possibilities. Maybe there is a forever. –Jim Broede

Better than being a robot.

In a sense, my life is an open book. In that I write this daily blog. Adds up to about 4,000 threads since I started it three or four years ago. I’ve lost track of the exact number. Lost track of time. That’s unimportant. I didn’t have any grand design for Broodings. Like with my life, I let things happen. Naturally. If that’s possible. This helps make my life a storied life. I just let it unfold. Happen. And in the process, I more or less record my thoughts. I think my life goes through phases. Anyway, I’m looking for meaning. Just like when I read a book. Or an essay. Or a letter. My own meaning. Not your meaning. I’ve been defining myself. Creating myself. In significant ways. I’ve discovered that I’m elusive. Flexible. Adaptable. If nothing else, I’ve learned how to write. My way. Not by the dictates of others. Or, at least that’s the way it seems to me. I could be fooling myself, of course. And I’m merely a robot. A fancy, complex computer. A machine. But believe me, I try to be more. I try to come close to being god himself. By creating. Creating myself. Yes, that’s it. I was born to be a creator. Maybe not the Creator. But a creator. Better than being a robot. –Jim Broede