Dipping

I’ve smoked less than a pack of cigarettes in my life. I’ve dipped snuff even less. Yet, I dip back into my memories all the time. As I’m dipping, there’s always this hesitation, this pause. I truly believe I have some sort of safeguard (my mental defense mechanism’s kindred) that buffers my nervous system from whatever shock is lying just out of reach. Still, we all have our share of bad memories. So, what good is this failsafe?
Once you’ve gotten out of your dip whatever it is you wanted; you spit the excess into your spittoon. Case closed. When you’re dipping you have to carry a cup around w/ you at all times. Most carry a soda can. In the Army, I often suggested that a dipper wrap his cup in cammo tape so it would match his uniform. Unfortunately, there exists nothing for memory dipping as far as spittoons go.
God may be using unwanted memories for His very wanted results. Bad & unwanted as said memories may be, they guide us away from repeating evil. If you remember a spanking, you shy away from getting another. If you remember a guilt trip, you shy away from another one. “Once bitten, twice shy.”
I’m a fan of positive thinking, so I wonder; if I don’t like some of the memories my guardian angel doesn’t lock away, how bad are the ones he does? I have Sicilian blood through my Grandmother’s Mother. I’ve been told growing up that Sicilians are the most morbid people on earth & that’s why I can be happy & morose simultaneously. Yes, I enjoyed Goth-rock in high school. No, I never wore the make-up. No, I will never think black nail polish looks good. Yet, as many Sicilians would agree (Danger! 99.9% are Catholics) being under the weather can bring you closer to God. I have the flu. So buy bonds & get your kids doing centering prayer TODAY! J