Sagacity
Noun: the quality of being sagacious
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Are you human? Were you born? Do you have parents? Chances are, the answers to these questions are Yes, Yes, and Yes. (If not, leave a comment so we can talk about it later - I'd love to here about your unusual/non-human origins). If you answered Yes to one or more of these questions, I feel pretty safe in making the assumption that you also have a family.
Now, while Dictionary.com defines 'family' as 'a basic social unit consisting of parents and their children, considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not,' the Urban Dictionary (no surprise here!) defines a family as 'A bunch of people who hate each other and eat dinner together.' What's wrong with this picture? Dictionary.com gives the definition the concept of family has always held. On the other hand, the Urban Dictionary, per usual, gives a far more blunt and modern definition. 'A bunch of people who hate each other...' Mm, that doesn't sound great. But then again, it isn't shocking, unusual, or unfamiliar either. In fact, I'd guess the majority of people who read it find it kind of funny. And what do we find funniest but the things we find most relatable? In 2016, what does the term 'family' even imply anymore? Seriously - what emotions, mental pictures, etc. do you associate with the concept of family? I talked to someone last night who had just come back from a political discussion meeting at a friend's' house. She was filled with new energy and perhaps even hope regarding the upcoming election - which sounds insane, but she made a good point. There are many good, morally right people who would end up in positions of influence if the Republican nominee wins the election. Conversely, there are a lot of people with very wrong views and debatable quantities of moral fiber who will be given much more power and influence if the Democratic nominee comes out on top.
However, many people are choosing not to vote in this election. Why is this, if, at least for conservatives and believers, the choice seems clear? It's for the same reason we sometimes fail to hear about large-scale accidents or terrorist attacks until that one friend who checks BBC news updates brings it up in a prayer circle. It's because the media takes people and presents them to us as characters. Larger than life, endlessly entertaining, dehumanized in the most blatant-yet-invisible way, these people - with birthdays, families, dreams, favorite colors, toothbrushes, and dirty laundry - become something else, something more and yet less than human in our eyes. And their images and lives take our attention and hold it captive. And we remain so entranced by these figures, these jokers, dolls, and clowns, that truly important information just drifts by unseen. Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, Buzzfeed, and news in general continue to focus more and more on these characters, these new gods, these more-than-humans, distracting us from the real issues at hand. Whether it's a woman's nude posterior (looking at you, Kardashian), a marriage falling apart in the public eye, a rude comment directed toward those of a particular race or gender, or an orange complexion, we are fed whatever it takes to keep us quiet, distracted, from what's going on beneath the surface - the epidermic struggle of America, and even the entire world. Whether it's between corporation and consumer, between law enforcement officer and criminal, between man and woman, between political opponents, between parent and child, between races, between religions, between right and wrong, between health and sickness, between logic and insanity - there a thousands of individual struggles, both public and private, large and small, going on in our nation today, but we only know what, and how much or how little, about these issues as those in positions of power are willing to tell us. Manipulation of the media is one of the cleverest forms of control there is, because it is the embodiment of the illusion of information and fun, while tweaking the facts and shoving distractions in your face. Who needs outright lying when you can invisibly mold everything to suit whatever it is you want people to believe? And with the very real possibility of very soon having people in positions of governmental power who will take full advantage of the media's influence, it is more important than ever to think critically, get all the facts, and question everything you see. Because right now, we don't see, we don't care, we don't acknowledge, but we may be slowly submitting to invisible communism. Please be kind to me - this is from nearly a year ago.
The Table-maker Once, in a little village in the Alps, there lived an old table-maker – a quiet, occasionally crotchety widower who had dwelt in the village since he was knee-high. Every Sunday, he attended the village chapel – a quaint but tiny building with about forty regular attendees. The rest of the week, he occupied his time by cutting down the trees on the land surrounding his property (and you’re right in believing that, with all the trees he cut down, he would eventually run out – but the clever old table-maker had lived there a long time, and from the first day, for every tree he cut down, he planted another in its place) and lovingly, meticulously shaping the wood into the most beautiful tables imaginable. Customers came from far and wide to buy the table-maker’s furniture, and friends, neighbors, and tourists alike praised his craftsmanship. One Sunday afternoon in May, an elder in the church approached the man and said, “Table-maker, some the elders have been talking, some have been thinking, and, well – we think you ought to retire from the furniture business.” The table-maker, quite taken aback, replied, “What makes you say so? Is there a problem with my work? Have customers complained?” “No, no,” the elder replied, “It’s just that, well, we believe a man like you would be better off serving the Lord, working in the church, you see.” The table-maker scratched his bristly old chin, “So,” he said, “So, you want me to quit my work as a table-maker?” The man nodded. “And you want me to make it my occupation to serve the Lord?” The elder nodded again. “And you believe that the only way for me to do that is to quit my occupation of nearly sixty years and work in the church?” The church elder looked a tab uncomfortable, but he nodded a third time. “Well,” said the old table-maker, “In that case, I have very little to say to you. I come to this chapel every Sunday – I have been since I was knee-high. I sit in my pew, alone now, as I used to do with my wife, and before her, my mother, and I listen to the pastor, and I sing with the choir, and never, ever, in all my life, did I realize the importance of my pew.” The man looked puzzled. “The importance of your pew? What are you talking about?” There was a barely-visible twinkle in the table-maker’s eye as he said, “Why, if it’s the only place where I can serve the Lord (and you must know, reader, that worship and service to God are really one and the same) than it is truly of the greatest importance.” And with that, he beckoned to two young men standing nearby, saying, “Here, boys, help me lift this pew.” As the elder, watched, dismayed, the three men began to convey the table-maker’s pew toward the church’s double doors. “What are you doing?” the man cried in confusion, “Put the pew back in its place, like a logical man.” (Now, it can be debated whether the elder himself was a logical man, but his hypocrisy and illogic are a discussion for another time). So, at the table-maker’s direction, the men replaced the pew, and the table-maker turned once again to the church elder. “Now, sir, I believe I have your full attention,” he said, eying the elder, who now looked significantly flustered. “I want you to understand something about me. I have been in the furniture business since I was hardly big enough to handle an axe, and now you want me to leave? And for what, to work in a little church? Me, a man who never spends an hour indoors if he can help it – no, I don’t believe you understand." “Oh, don’t I?” replied the elder, now annoyed as well as flustered. “Every man or woman on this green earth is called to live their life in service to the Lord. Do you disagree, table-maker?” “Naturally not,” the old man replied, smiling inwardly at the elder’s annoyance. “I believe firmly that it is every person’s God-given task to devote their entire life to using whatever talents he has given them to serve him wherever and whenever possible. And that is precisely why I will never work in the church.” Becoming more irate with every word that passed through the old man’s lips, the elder (in a decidedly less-than-polite tone) asked the meaning of all this. “You see, elder,” the old man replied with a calmness that likely made the man even more cross, “In all the years I have spent building tables, I have learned two things: firstly, that in my pew on a Sunday morning is not the only time and place I can offer my worship to the Lord. In truth, the only time one can worship the Lord is anytime, and the only appropriate place is anyplace. And not a day goes by when I don’t bask in the beauty of the Creator, and talk to my heavenly Father, and give thanks to my Provider and Savior, all while building tables.” He looked up at the increasingly annoyed-looking elder and winked. “Maybe you should try it some time.” The man opened his mouth to retaliate, but the table-maker cut him off. “Secondly, I’ve learned that the best way to serve the Lord is the way he has told you to. Now, some of us may hear an audible voice, telling us precisely the service He requires of us, but for the majority, he’s a lot more subtle.” He paused for a moment, as though deep in thought. “I guess some of us just need a more obvious shove in the right direction,” he mused. Once again, the elder opened he mouth to say something, but, once again, the table-maker cut him off. “But for those who are a little better at catching the subtler hints, we have but to take inventory of the gifts He has given us. The best service you can give God is to serve Him with none but your very best. He knew that from the day you would conceived (here, the elder made a face that resembled that of a toddler sucking on a lemon – I’m sure you can imagine); He knew when he decided which gifts He would bestow on you. He chose you, and He chose the strengths and abilities you would have, and He chose them for the very simple purpose of allowing you to praise Him and live the fullest, best life possible at the same time.” The table-maker stopped to take a breath. A third time, the irritated elder opened his mouth to interject, but the table-maker knew better than to let him say a word – rumor had it, once he got going, there was no stopping him. Or course, the same could be said of our friend the table-maker. He continued, “The Lord has given some the gift of teaching, some the gift of leadership, some (and here he gave the elder a significant glance) the, er, gift of…opinionated confrontation. To me, He has given the gift of table-making, and, by extension, the opportunity to worship Him through my art, as it really is an art, and to share His love with those from near and far. Table-making is what the Lord has given me; table-making is the purpose He created me for. It is given to me, so that I may turn right around and give it back to God. It is in this way that He has asked me to worship Him, and I will remain here for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be.” The elder opened his mouth yet again, but, finding nothing to say, hurriedly closed it again. The table-maker thought for a moment before he said, “Look, elder, I meant no disrespect to you. I only wanted you to understand why I could never leave table-making. I see nothing wrong with working in the church if that’s what the Lord has called you to do, but I have been called to something else. But I can admit my mistakes – if I overstepped the line, I’m sorry. ” At the table-maker’s apology, the elder brightened up once more. “If you really mean it,” he began, pompously, “I see no reason to push the issue. I suppose -” Here his gaze dropped to the worn wood floor as he sighed, “I never did like to say I was wrong – my wife knows it better than anyone (he gave a small laugh) – but, well…” He slowly trailed off, but offered the table-maker his hand. “You made me think, table-maker,” he said, a little reluctantly. “Maybe I’ll take your advice – go into the furniture business,” he joked. The table-maker took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. “You’re always welcome to join me. I’m never hard to find.” And with that, the table-maker strolled through double doors, out into the spring afternoon. I wrote this nearly a year ago now, with very, very little writing experience, but I figured I'd share it with those who might be interested, and I don't see any reason to pass up an opportunity to receive some constructive criticism - or provide whatever readers I may have with some (ideally) pretty okay entertainment. Feel free to comment anytime - if I don't like it, I'll probably just delete it anyway. :) Alllllrighty then! So, if it wasn't pretty obvious already, this is my blog. I guess it'll be a collection of all sorts of attempts at writing, probably including some poetry, short stories, opinions, life updates, musings - just a lot of Serah writing. If you don't know me, you probably won't find it all that interesting. Then again, if you don't know me, I have absolutely know idea how you managed to end up here. And even if you do know me, there's still a chance you won't like it. If that be the case, and if you're well-spoken and I like you, I might even take suggestions on how I can improve this blog and its posts. You know what, I'll welcome feedback from just about anyone, as I've never attempted writing a blog before, and have very little knowledge of how to go about it. So, yeah, here's my experimental blog - let's see where this thing goes!
"How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily? How long will my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and hear me, O lord my God; Enlighten my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death; lest my enemy say, 'I have prevailed against him';Lest those who trouble me rejoice when I am moved. But I have trusted in Your mercy; My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because He has dealt bountifully with me." Psalm 13.
Good, good words - especially in light of my eventful morning, during which I broke down crying for a good 20 min or so, finally overwhelmed by all the health-related trials of the past few months. I had dragged myself out of bed this morning, intent on going on a run, only to go about 4/5 mi before I was violently sick behind a couple of trees. Oh boy was that fun! I honestly felt a little bad for the poor guy who ventured to ask, tentatively, if I was okay. I doubt he set out on his morning walk expecting to find a teen puking in the neighborhood trees. While throwing up wasn't a big deal in itself, it turned my thoughts toward the cause of my oh-so-delightful morning sickness - the digestive system issues that have taken it on as their occupation to make my life extra difficult these last six months or so (FYI, I have something most alternative doctors and a lot of traditional Western practitioners call Leaky Gut Syndrome, which basically means my intestinal lining got so inflamed for whatever reason that it developed a bunch of little holes where, well, there shouldn't be any holes. This means that a lot of things that are toxic/inflaming go back into my bloodstream and travel around to my organs when they should really be traveling down the sewage pipes leading from my house, if you catch my drift. I'm also gluten and casein intolerant, and have been for several years now. Gluten, I've had problems with for over a decade now; casein, or dairy - more specifically, cow dairy - seems to be a more recent problem. Although test results have been inconsistent, it looks like I also have one or more of the following, that is: parasites, candida, or a bacterial infection. Of course, the only logical course was to treat me for all of these things, which means, as many of you know, a super restricted diet - one I seem to have difficulty following to the letter - and a bunch of meds and supplements, thankfully all naturally based, to combat whatever-the-heck is going on in my body right now. Unfortunately, the diet and pill-taking schedule make it difficult for me to eat away from home, making it a pain to go out to eat, stay at a friend's house, or go on the youth group adventure trips that make my summers so much fun - not impossible, in any sense, but really, really annoying. Added bummer: the pills - chiefly the ones I have to take as soon as I wake up in the morning - are positively excellent at causing nausea. This isn't the first time I've been faced with gut issues and strict diets, but undoubtedly the most difficult and emotionally taxing. On the bright side, there have been far, far fewer doctor visits and prickly tests this time, which is something I'm incredibly thankful for:). I also, as you can usually see, have fairly bad eczema - resulting from the irritation going on inside my body - on the skin on the in-sides of both arms. It's been mercifully calm lately, but it has flared up pretty badly in the past.). I usually try to think about health problems as little as possible - honestly, is that surprising? I'm usually pretty happy, pretty good, pretty joyful; I love life, I love people, I love doing fun things. But from time to time I do think seriously about all the health stuff, and I'm reminded it's been going on for fifteen years now, and to be honest, it kinda sucks, and I start to pity myself a little bit - and, quite frankly, there's a lot of things I could whine about if I wanted to: from the diet, to the bloating (:P), to the unpleasantly sporadic need to use the bathroom, to the eczema, to the headaches, to the fatigue, to the stomach cramps, to the nausea - ahhh, so much to complain about! Sometimes I do just that, and just complain a bit until I feel better (although, honestly, I don't feel that much better). Other times I think about it, and instead of that slightly self-important, prideful feeling you get when you have something really good to complain about (I think you know what I mean), I'm just kind of broken, tired, utterly exhausted. Because, honestly, I'm kind of tired of dieting, and seeing different doctors, and praying for healing, and trying different treatment plans, and costing my parents a lot through the years, and inconveniencing everyone with my special dietary needs. Today was one of the broken days, where I got back from my run and just kind of...I don't know, deflated seems like a good word. Basically, I collapsed before God on the couch and bawled my eyes out for a good twenty minutes. Psalm 13 begins with the words, "How long, O Lord?" "How long, O Lord?" I ask, "How long before I can stop worrying about what I can and cannot eat?" "How long before I can wake up without feeling sick, and go on a run without having to stop at a bathroom every 20 min because something's going to exit my stomach and 'how' isn't up to me?" "How long before I can stop feeling like I should wear long sleeves to cover the eczema that is often so evident on my arms?" "How long, O Lord, before I can stop worrying about how weird it probably looks when I go out to eat with friends and pop about six or seven pills with my meal?" "How long before I find out if this particular treatment plan is even working?" Like the Psalmist, I really, really want these troubles and trials to end. I have come before the Lord, again and again, asking for healing, but here I am again, asking, "How long, O Lord?" However you choose to receive this information (and yes, I realize it's a lot of information) is up to you; I felt an urge to share the ordeal I've been going through because a) I really, really want healing - from the food intolerances, to the eczema, to whatever it is that's causing digestive problems, so prayer (and just the knowledge that there are others who would willingly help 'bear my burden,' as it were - you're probably one of those people if you've actually read this far) would be greatly appreciated, and b) because, while I desire healing, I know God has a plan regardless of how difficult and discouraging this situation is, and my hope and prayer in this it that it will glorify Him in the end, regardless of what He chooses to do, and I figure the more people who know about these trials I'm experiencing, the more will be able to praise the Lord when He uses them for His glory. In light of 'b),' and the fact that I am still aware of all God's great blessings in so many other areas of my life, I (and the Psalmist) conclude, "I have trusted in Your mercy; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because He has dealt bountifully with me." |
The SerahI've been called many things, including short, sagacious, a hipster, a nerd, an introverted extrovert, a bookworm, Sriracha, Elizabeth, Cat, and probably a lot of other names... Archives |