Sunday Squibs

 

“God bless you!” after another's sneeze is an ancient form of passive aggression. 

We really want to say, “Get away from me! I don’t want what you have,” but cover it instead with a blessing. 

We’d rather pay for more Cloud storage than clean out our mailboxes and folders. 

We are born into the sea of God’s love, but the Siren’s song draws us up onto the arid shore. 

Does bacteria think?

All scholars say not.

Am I the missing link?

Now there’s a thought.

Or just gut instinct?

We all have a least one super power, though we might not want it celebrated on a coffee mug, e.g. “World’s Greatest SOB”.

It would be fun to be a bird for a day. 

Make that two days. 

The first day would be in flight school. 

Descartes is dinged for separating the body from the mind. But he was merely noting a process that had been going on since man had put away his bow, scattered seed on a field, and waited for dinner to come to him. 

The block of writer's block is like the block of marble that hides a statue. 

The writer's chisel is the pen. Just start scribbling and watch the chips fly.  

God has given us a plan for building Heaven on earth. There’s no blueprint for Hell, just a devilment of details. 

In meditation the turbulent sea imperceptibly runs out- and oh, the sad, lovable things we see, sitting in the mud.