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Reading it ALL

April 23, 2007

The other day I was sitting in Panera Bread restaurant with my sweetie and we were both having a Diet Snapple. I started to read the label (I read labels…they are more interesting than you think) and this is what I read:

“No calories (then an arrow pointing to the bottom)…their agent wanted a multi-year deal.”

Hilarious! I love it. Someone obviously came up with that in the marketing department at about 1:30 a.m.

Then I looked at my sweetie’s bottle and this is what hers said:

“No calories….Yep, one day they just got up and left.”

You miss so much when you read only the stuff everyone else reads. One time, I picked up a book at the library just because of its title. It was called “The First Men’s Guide to Ironing”. I couldn’t care less about learning to iron any better than I do, but the title caught me. As I usually do, I read the acknowledgements. This time, I wasn’t disappointed. Here is what he said:

“I would like to thank all those people who have helped me in my life to become what I am today. I would like to; but I can’t. No one helped me. No one ever helps me. In this project, as with everything else in my life, I did it myself. No one carefully watched over the manuscript or fed me muffins when I had writer’s block or held my hand when rejection letters came in. No, I did this all myself and I face either the scorn or the praise alone”.

See what I mean? When you don’t read it all, you can miss such classic lie-based thinking.

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2 comments

  1. it’s not only in reading the “usually unread”, but if one knows what to look for/listen for lie based thinking can also be found in cinematic (small and large screen)events. The other day I was watching a movie (ok it was Star Trek V … don’t ask why I think that too has to do with lie based thinking on my part). The climactic turn of event was when Kirk went into a monologue about emotional and psychological pain to say, “… They’re the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don’t want my pain taken away! I need my pain!”.

    Of course this diatribe was the turning point for the good guys leading into Kirk, Spoc and Bones saving the day once again (SS Geriatric on duty and saving the universe). Everyone who had experienced “healing” from their pain was portrayed as brainwashed.

    Obviously this isn’t a post about the validity of Stark Trek V’s approach to healing (which was very off). The point of what I am trying to say is lie based thinking can be found rampant in movies and on TV and often it is harder to spot lies in film media than in printed media.


  2. It’s funny–in a sad way–but I can recognize how the author’s thinking is lie-based, while at the same time I’m amused and sympathetic. Short of writing an occasional check or dropping off used clothing for the church garage sale (sans old underwear); I don’t see much evidence of helping each other in practical ways. It’s simply too easy to say, “I’ll pray for you brother” and go on our way.

    Why am I so jaded? As an aspiring artist I see no evidence, so far, of anyone taking me under their wing to show me the ropes. I don’t understand this because when I examine myself I am fairly certain I would be willing to enthusiastically share my passions and knowledge with someone sincerely interested in those things I have mastered. Yet nobody steps up and says, hey, can I spend some time with you and would you show me how you do what you do?

    Not long ago, I ran into a fairly successful author (a Christian I might add). Of course, I have a good book idea myself and when I asked him a couple of simple questions about finding an agent or getting published, do you know his response? “You should go get the Writer’s Digest from the library” he said. Okay, I already knew that! But it wasn’t so much his response as his tone. It was a tone of let’s talk about something else because I don’t share my wisdom with others.

    The other day I was in an up-scale fly fishing shop. You know the kind, where they don’t sell worms and a fly rod will run ya $700. Anyhow, the gray-haired old boy behind the counter was telling me he had been fly fishing for over fifty years and had vast knowledge of the craft. Yet, when I asked him a simple question about sinking fly lines he told me I should go out and do some research and then come back to purchase. It was an uncomfortable moment and I tried to jokingly pass it off by saying, “but that’s why I would come to you”. You see, I hate to think my only option is to spend hours in cold impersonal research, all by myself. After I left the shop I realized I wouldn’t be going back to buy any of his high-priced crap. Why? Because this master-of-his-craft rejected a student who sought him out.

    Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had the opposite experiences as well, where master’s freely and enthusiastically shared their skills and knowledge. And what a blessing those moments were, for both of us.

    We all long for that intimate master and journeyman relationship, and few of us find it, not even among God’s children.

    The masters are too busy so I guess it’s just God and I.



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