JONAMIAH 3:16
JONAMIAH 3:16
By John Tuft
I try to begin each and every day reading from the sacred book of Jonamiah, the eagerly sought after, thought to be lost to time, missing book of scriptures. Assembled by yours truly for the secretive gatherings of those seeking to be joyfully unhappy. As it says in the GBOJ, the Good Book of Jonamiah, a self-justifying compilation of aphorisms and mental platelet clots, “begin each day with thanksgiving, coffee, and a handful of M&Ms. Hope for good health can be found in the promise of a second breakfast.” In my current travels, I am in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, seat of Bucks County, where there are no straight roadways from east to west. It is believed by some to be the birthplace of the mythical online “Karen,” she of the finger wagging, I want to talk to the manager, complainer from a vantage of privilege. As the nation prepares for its first democratically anointed king, I am reminded of Jonamiah’s admonition, “Be careful what you wish for” and the ever popular, “Contagious delusions are something that happens only to other perishables.”
I am one of those who is particularly disturbed by Jonamiah’s pearls of wisdom such as, “the common denominator is your series of bad or broken relationships is staring back at you from the mirror.” It is almost as uncomfortable as the prospect that we as a nation just decided who we are, we decided what we want, and we decided how we want to get it. As Jonamiah puts it, “science is to reality as seeking gratification is to being human.” Bucks County is a mixture of old houses and architecture and farming fields now yielding upper middle class housing developments. Colonial charm, such as it was and the twenty-first century demand for gratification, now, today. Fields and fields of it on display. As the nation sinks deeper and deeper into its nonreflective adolescent fit of magical thinking, it seems appropriate to turn to Jonamiah for wisdom and guidance.
Last evening I had the pleasure of sampling a smoked old fashioned. Why? Because I am on the cusp of 70 and a new writer in the eyes of the world, or perhaps better put, an undiscovered writer, if you must know. Be that as it may, stringing words together is what I do. And part of that is watching people, paying attention to looks and demeanor, how they express themselves on the vast canvas of uncertainty we call society and culture. The sound system played music from the late teens to early 20s era of my own life. Prior to entering this place, we had been at an Italian coffee/bake shop. I did some caffeine/carb loading as we sat at the small tables on the sidewalk, watching the foot traffic of Bucks County. As daylight retreated and the numbing dusk of November fell on the land, a gaggle of pubescent girls approached making the noises such creatures make, and I experienced a moment of krinklesploosh.
For the uninformed, krinklesploosh is first mentioned in Jonamiah 3:16. “And the Storyguide took them up on a high place and looking upon them, loved them, as one loves a newly trained yet recalcitrant puppy, saying ‘Unless one welcomes krinklesploosh into their hearts, they will never know peace. For it would be easier to mix the cloud of smoke into a smoked old fashioned then it would be for the closed heart to conceive of a strong female leader with authority over them.’” Back on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, watching the gaggle of girls approach I experienced the dizzying sensation of being on the grass field beside Park Terrace Junior High School in the dusk of a chilly fall day in western Pennsylvania. I am 15 or 16 years old, and Dan and I are playing football against a couple of his friends. Our whole strategy is for the fleet of foot Dan to run as fast as he can for as far as he can, and I will throw the football as hard and far as I can. We are unbeatable. Sheer joy, unencumbered by politics or social expectations or self-consciousness. Krinklesploosh.
The word ‘triggered’ is associated with re-experiencing the sheer terror and fear for one’s survival that is experienced under very traumatic circumstances. Later on, or post the traumatic event, something occurs that puts the person right back there in that state of absolute fright. Krinklesploosh is just the opposite. Experiencing being back in a moment of joy. As laid out in Jonamiah. As I sat in the bar with friends and loved ones, I sang to my heart’s content. Celebrating the mysteries we perishables cannot escape. And the gift of krinklesploosh that can ease the grief of the harsh ones. The prophetic wisdom of Jonamiah 3:16.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off on another evening’s adventures in a Mexican bar in Bucks County. For as Jonamiah exhorts, “the time is short, and your neighbor is there whether you like it or not. Sending them away may be the extinguishing of the very thing you need in order to make yourselves krinklesploosh again.”
Words are magic and writers are wizards.
