I ain’t no Pollyanna; I’ve seen my share of sorrows — and then some. In fact, if you bumbled about my brain a bit, you might feel like a sloshed sailor on a small ship tryin’ to survive a surging summer storm. (Did I mention I like alliteration?)
Maybe it has sometime to do with the written word: As a kid, I liked poetry; as a youngster, reading; as an adult, writing — and, when I say “writing,” I mean the mean streets 0f newspaper deadline writing, a particularly brutal form of the art. (It’s like skeet-shooting, except you’re the target.)
But it paid the bills. Clothed the kids. Put food on the table. Mostly.
What I’m tryin’ to say, in a Damon Runyon sort of way, is that writing hurts: You bleed when you put words on a page; you bleed when an editor slices/dices them, you bleed when readers see them — whether they read ’em or not.
Speakin’ of Runyon, here are some of his quotes I like:
– “The race may not always be to the swift nor the victory to the strong, but that’s how you bet.”
– “Always try to rub up against money, for if you rub up against money long enough, some of it may rub off on you.”
– “You can become a winner only if you are willing to walk over the edge.”
(Brace yourself: We’re about to jump that edge …)
What keeps me sane in a crazy world, is believing that there’s something beyond what I see that is better than what I see. You might describe that trait as “illogically optimistic.” (That’s not an unfair assessment.) I prefer to call this characteristic “Faith.”
Faith helps me balance the excessively morbid, gloomy, caustic, cynical, defeatist thoughts that march through my mind and attack my heart. (Perhaps that’s why I’m drawn to kittens, sunsets, chocolate, and flowers — to counter-program that junk.)
Part of my self-prescribed treatment of positivity is to inject expansive, larger-than-myself, Bible verses into my inconsequential, carnally inclined mind. Here’s an example:
“The heavens are telling the glory of God; they are a marvelous display of his craftsmanship. Day and night they keep on telling about God. Without a sound or word, silent in the skies, their message reaches out to all the world.” Psalm 19:1–4. (TLB)
Does this therapy work? Mostly. How? Good question.
Here’s what I think: My brain is a bubbling brew of positives and negatives, each of which is drawn to a terminal — like those on a battery. When I see the “minus” side adding on, I start pumping stuff into the “plus” side to level things out.
Is it worth the effort? Yup. You might even say I get a charge out of it.
(Did I mention I like puns?)
Jim Lamb is a retired journalist and author of “Orange Socks & Other Colorful Tales,” the story of how he survived Vietnam and kept his sense of humor. His mind has not been designated a “safe zone.” For more about Jim and his writing, visit www.jslstories.com.
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