Internet Wisdom & Inspirational Posts

 

The nature of my work brings me in contact with many interesting places on the internet.  I have likened it to visiting EPCOT. I learn about various cultures. I learn hip, new lingo that my teenager immediately forbids me to use. And I discover many interesting ways that people have found to use technology.

 I love it. 

Recently, I came across a bot that struck a chord with me. Not only because it is humorous, but also because it touches on an interesting phenomenon I've noticed online: Internet Wisdom & Inspirational Posts 

I am old enough to remember when motivational posters featuring one large inspirational word, along with that word's definition and a scenic photo against a black background, were all the rage in office decor. <photo> 

I remember, too, the trend in decorating with demotivational posters, sarcastic or satire versions of the same style. <photo>

And now, we decorate cyberspace with inspiration of all kinds. 

We all come across it. Memes, GIFS or graphics with inspirational quotes and images abound. I have more screenshots of humor or inspiration saved in my phone's photo albums than pictures of actual people and places I love... probably. 

When I went through a messy divorce several years ago, I began to see the posts as ironic. 

Sometimes, with a chuckle, I would save an image knowing full well my ex would likely relate the post to me in the same way I was relating it to him. Other times, a post was too mean-spirited for me to save, and yet I would still feel the sting as if it were pointed at me…figuring, if he saw the same post, it would be. 

Later, there was  some drama amongst friends. Onlookers who knew what was going on, understood that the internet wisdom being vague-posted between both parties were just passive-aggressive pot shots; that inspirational bible verse was really a silent slap in the face.

This is how we humans like to be sometimes. 

And then, there are those with aspirations of content creation who just regurgitate the same content in new font, creating a sea of platitudes and false positivity. 

On a low frequency, this content serves as "signs from the universe" to some and affirmation of bad choices or behavior to others. 

While helpful reminders are abundant, so too is a resounding, virtual  "Follow Your Heart" to the whole world.  Sometimes necessary nuance is left out. 

That can be dangerous. Or foolish. Or both. 

And so, when I learned about InspiroBot, I loved the satire; not to mention the blind validation this bot offers my own observations. 

I promptly wasted a good half hour on it, and - despite knowing in advance the content is randomly generated and mostly drivel - I found it irresistible not to save the inspirational posters like so many cookie fortunes.  

Enjoy my little gallery, save any you find applicable, and then, have fun making some of your own

And remember, if you read it on the internet, it simply must be true... for someone... maybe - but not always you. 

InspiroBot Album of Wisdom & Inspiration 

Go To InspiroBot > > > https://inspirobot.me/

::: dumbstruck :::

Doot, doot, doo, lookin' out my back door

One month ago today, Helene blew through town and took my words away. 

I wanted to use "awestruck" as my title. It's a prettier word and certainly applies in many ways, but "dumbstruck" is even more true.

dumb*struck- adjective: made silent by astonishment  

Astonishment. 

Yes. 

I've been using the term "shell shock" a lot, too. Because, around here, it looks - and feels - like a hundred thousand pipe bombs have gone off. 

From the linked definition 

…a reaction to the intensity of the bombardment and fighting that produced helplessness, which could manifest as panic, fear, flight, or an inability to reason, sleep, walk, or talk.

Bombardment. 

Yes, exactly. 

My daughter sometimes calls me a "yapper" - in fact, one time, she crowned me Mayor of Yapper Island. I'm sure she means it affectionately.  (I show my appreciation by adding whatever new lingo she introduces me to into my own vocabulary. )

But, lately, I've just needed to be quiet for awhile, to go slow with me.

I haven't had the words, or energy, and especially not the clarity to do much more than take one day at a time.

And that has been exactly what's been happening.

They just keep arriving, like waves at high tide.

The sun continues to rise, day after day, again and again, one at a time.

Birthdays came amidst fallen trees.

Life resumed with or without power or internet connection.

It has been a slow walk back to life as we know it, not to mention adjusting to ways of life that are new to us.

Our very terrain has changed.

There have been complaints, sure - but oh, there has been so much community.

I've been trying to take it all in.

I've lived long enough to understand the forgetfulness of man.

Sadly, eventually, after the dust clears and the debris is hauled away, our best behavior may be tucked away until the next disaster, like so many post nine-eleven American flags.

I wish the cuts needn't be so deep for our kindnesses to surface.

So I build a little altar of remembrance, using words as altar stones. 

When I meander through my history, as I am want to do, these little altars remind me of God's goodness in my life, and the glowing potential of man. 

Today, a month after the storm, I'm starting to find where they've been scattered. 

I'm picking them up to lay them back down. 

One of the first things I found to say was : There's a tree on our shed, but not on our heads. 

We have a lot to be grateful for.  (yes, there was rhyming, much to my own chagrin) 

Maybe I'll have more to say soon - maybe I'll write about writers again this Wednesday. I don't know, we'll see what tomorrow holds. 

"After all, tomorrow is another day" ~Scarlet  (with only DVDs to watch for a while, Riley has been to Tara and back again... and met with the wizard of Oz) 

Until then, here's a song: 

Twenty-Five

Twenty-five years ago, I started a new school from which I am never expected to graduate: Chandler Brice Brewer was born. 

My professor was younger than me. In fact, he was only minutes old when the lessons began. 

He came bearing the gift of questions and answers, metaphors and similes. 

He was wrapped in the invitation to explore imagination.  

Why was his resistance to sleep so strong, and what special magic did car rides possess to override this wide-eyed disposition? 

When was the last of each milestone and was I paying close enough attention? 

Where did the time go? 

Who knew how much a heart could expand?

Until I was enrolled, I only understood a parent's love as concept. 

Loving my own child was different than teaching, tutoring, and even 'big-sistering' countless children before. 

Not only did I gain new insight into what it means to love a child, I also began to understand what it means to be loved as a child, in the earthly realm of Momma and Daddy, as well as that higher, capital letter realm of Child and Father. 

It is something I hope my own children come to understand deeply  about themselves - and stand on when life feels like quicksand. 

Chandler is an adult now with a family of his own.  I do my best to be "on standby,” not standing in the way. 

And yet- I'm always internally poised to dive in if I am needed. Always will be. 

Happy Birthday, Chandler

Thank you for all you've taught -and are teaching- me. 

I love love love you, much, much, muchly. 

And I always will be. 

Love, 

Momma