Goodbye Kansas

Fair warning on this one: we're going head first down the rabbit hole and Kansas is going bye-bye. So here's your blue pill. If you keep reading, it's your own risk.


Ok. So I've written before about my condition. I am highly sensitive to lots of things. While you might sneeze, I'll have flu like reactions. While you might have indigestion, I go to the hospital. This makes holidays with obligatory feasts and ample treats particularly difficult. I often have weird dreams following food that my body doesn't want, so what follows could be related. But it struck me much different. Those dreams have a particular tone and themes. This was like other dreams I've had, if we want to call them that, but not like my usual body signals.

You might want to apply a rational interpretation to what I'm about to relate and that's fine, I've done that too. There could very well be more of gravy than of grave about this, to borrow from Mr. Dickens. But I'm not convinced that's all there is to it. In my experience, nothing is ever just this or that, but inextricably linked with everything else. So I'm going to write it as I experienced it and leave it there. Red pill down...diving into the hole.

You may have read about my past experiences in spiritualism. When one does that, certain things change and don't go back.  Like many things in life, once you cross a line, you can't uncross it.

So last night, through a series of dream events, I found myself on a dock in a swamp with a couple unidentified people. There was a stroller with a baby in it. Somehow it was brought up that it was now widely accepted that it was not Lucifer who had been responsible for a certain unclear historical event involving a baby, but in fact, Lilith. I was alarmed at the mention because in spiritual realms to mention is to court the presence of, and in waking life...ok, we'll go with that...in waking life I had encountered lilith before and she is terrifying in the true sense.

Just then, as the dread of how she might appear was coming on me, a snake-like tentacle glided up on the dock from the water. The end had been cleaved off like an octopus in a Japanese restaurant. I yelled to the others that she was here and quickly kicked the writhing thing away only to find another reaching up. They grabbed the stroller and turned it over, spilling what had been the baby into the water, but fortunately it was now only blankets. (Thank God! My dreams are not always so sanitized.)

My heart quivered within me as a white shapeless molten form rose up from the water with the serpent arms. It quickly began to take a female shape as if moving through stages of plasticene scuplture until even the snake tails became human arms. There she stood with black hair and hellish eyes, a demonic half-smile on the well-formed mouth. She was larger than a human by at least double and stood in the swampy water while still extending above my head where I stood on the dock.

She addressed me familiarly. I quickly remembered in my fear that the only course was to resist and call for help. Demons have no inherant power, they are merely self-negations, perversions of created things. So in reality, they can only decieve and frighten. But if you've never encountered one like this, trust me, that fear is enough to make you forget your wits.

Therefore, rather than answer a single word and open the door for her, I rebuked that she was not wanted. Like Saruman in LOTR, if you let them speak, they'll get in your head in a heart beat. Like Gozer, you have to clear your mind. Or since that's impossible, you have to fill it with truth and higher power, which they can't combat. So I continued to shout that I was a son of Jesus (not sure where that wording came from) and that she had no power over me. She had no power here. That was all I could yell and I clung to it fiercely while trying to stay between her and the others.

She fought back with everything she had and the battle lasted several minutes.

 As I gained some confidence I began to thrust my presence forward at her, like a spiritual shove with every affirmation and rebuke. Finally, she turned and fled, gliding over the water to a nearby road. I turned to chase her, wanting to kill her once and for all. She flew into a box truck, like UPS, only white like a bread truck, and drove away.

I quickly gave up pursuit realizing that it was not for me to kill one like her. Only to resist...which I had done...and she had fled...SHE had FLED! The mother of demons that had engendered such fear on my part had fled at my resistance! The original succubus that had plagued me for so many years in various forms had been driven out of my mind...in very literal dream imagery!

I woke with a start thinking I had only just drifted off to sleep, but it was morning. The battle had taken all night, but it was over.

Is this a bit of badly digested food? A phantasm of my hypersensitive body? Maybe, but maybe that pharmacaea opened the door for something more. Is the demon driven out? Is the hold broken on me? It's too soon to tell.

But I think it was Black Elk who said that you can tell a dream from a vision by how well it stays in your mind when you wake. This has shaken me to the point that I had to look more into it this morning.

I dared to look up lilith and to my surpise, I found she is often portrayed as partly serpent. I tell you, no where in my memory does that reference occur. I can't even recall looking for images of her. She is also often drawn with a certain dark-haired appearance, which she had assumed in my encounter. I'm not making conclusions. I can rationally surmise an explanation that still perfectly suits the outcome.  But you know what? I don't really care what really happened, or what "real" even means. I care only about True, and in any case, this is a true story. Ding Dong the witch is gone! And I'm celebrating that for all it's worth. Thank God for deliverance and I pray it's for good!

Perfect World

Imagine a world where every person was supported in developing their skills to the fullest potential.  But in this world, people don't have to compete for a few choice jobs, opportunities, etc.  For every person, a perfectly suited life is available.  A fulfilling job that uses their skills can afford them a home that perfectly provides their needs for shelter, space, and style.  They'll earn enough to afford all the necessities and a good deal of comforts.

In this world, social relationships are most important.  Society is built to encourage interaction and division is a thing of the past.  People are different, but differences aren't a source of contention, nor even of passive separation, but truly integrated and celebrated.

Power is not abused.  People necessarily need to have coordinators and conductors, "leaders" in a sense, but only in so far as function without an ounce of personal pride or cowtowing from those being coordinated.  These "leaders" will fully understand that they are the servants of and dependent on those under them.

Likewise in such a culture of respect, no one would be looked down on for the position they occupy, nor despise doing work that is "beneath them" because there is no hierarchy.  Concepts like 'beneath', would be purely and literally locational.

Science has advanced to the point that people most fully understand the integration of the world.  And where they don't, they know enough to stop manipulating things in damaging ways.  Health of humans extends to animals, plants, and the world as a whole.  People understand that every action affects the whole system and the system affects every action.  Because of this, sickness is a thing of the past.  Pollution is no more.  Mental illness is eradicated.

Because of the emotional and physical health of people, when things start to break down, it does not become a train wreck, cascade failure, but is absorbed in the understanding embrace of society and the world.  Truly healing and restoring such that even crime disappeared.

Sounds great right?  Regardless of what you believe, I bet you were reading this thinking how it fits your ideal world.  But I got this directly from Jesus.  This is what he taught.  If you didn't recognize that, I invite you to look at the Bible (particularly the first five books of the New Testament) with open eyes this Christmas and see if I'm not right.

Slipping

I feel myself slipping down again.  It's not a good feeling, but something I've grown used to.  It feels like a dark cloud forming.  I'm more on edge, quicker to burst out angry, more likely to take offence at things, less likely to be as busy as I usually am. 

Normally I keep the demons at bay through constant occupation.  Even rest is occupation.  Sometimes I welcome getting sick, even though I fight like mad to NOT get sick.  Once I am, I can just let go and rest.  But in these times, the lack of doing is more just because it all seems futile and worthless.

People always say, "Let me know if you feel that way."  But that's just the problem isn't it?  I'm never going to...If I could I wouldn't need the help.  And when I feel good enough to let someone know, they don't believe it, don't remember it, don't notice it, or aren't around to be able to.  We'll see if this post ever makes it onto the blog.  I'm going to try hard to let it stand.

I don't even know what help would be.  No amount of talking it through will do anything about it.  I've read enough on CBT and tried it to know it won't stick.  That stuff all requires a willing participant.  Sure there's probably a good deal I don't know about that stuff, but the effort to sift through the crap with someone to get to the good stuff just makes it seem like more of a burden.

But I know it will pass.  It always does.  I surround myself with precautions when I feel it coming enough to avoid serious consequences.  I'll still go to work, look the same as always, joke, etc.  I know from seeing it in others that if you know what to look for, you can tell the difference.  But most people can't or don't bother.  It's truly a closed world.  If you haven't been there, you don't understand.  You can't.

So what helps?  I don't know.  Time.  Prayer. I always delve deeper into those regions during these times.  Someone seeing it for what it is and piercing the cloud.  It happens on rare occasions and those people are instantly locked in my heart forever.

But like I said, I know it will pass and the only way past is through.  We'll see how it goes this time.

Seen

It's late and this blog is raw, so I hope it explains, if not excuses, my waxing poetic. Sometimes I just see something or in this case someone. See deeper than what is visible on the surface, deeper than what they may even hope to project. Who knows, it may all just be my own mental projections and fancy. But this late and in this blog space I'm going to take my perception as granted. Truthfully,  whether this is factually true or not, my perception and therefore my reaction in the moment, are valid.

It's like the veil parts just enough to see the reality. Like seeing with Elvish eyes. Or better still with Glass Eyes, as in the story of Glass Dogs I wrote.

And the one this is about may actually read this. If so, you'll know who you are. You are a dark princess. You can find the beauty in darkness and ugliness. You sometimes cast yourself as a devil, but I see you and I know this is far from the truth because like Harry and Luna we both see the Thestrals. Not of death, but of true demons. And no one who knows this reality can do anything but react away from it.

I see you and you are beautiful. One of the Haibane, grey feathered angels.  You feel so deeply the slight wind of an offhand remark can send you searching and doubting how you might have caused pain.

You fear and doubt and struggle and you know how to put on a brave face. Sometimes we have to powder those grey wings. But your heart is so large it bursts out in spite of you and I for one, love the elegant mess you try to hide.

Don't worry. I can be trusted with this. I won't even let on more than a moment's slightly deeper look or slightly warmer hug. We are kindred. I see you and I think you see me too. And I want you to know that I see even deeper. Perhaps deeper than you see yourself. Inside that beautifully churning complexity you are, there is a radiantly gorgeous daughter of Truth and Goodness that makes you shimmer in glorious living light. Entrained with all the life you have given, all the good you have done, even in spite of yourself. Elven princess. The King's lost daughter. The terrifying Pan will bring you home at last.

You are lovely and loving. Perfect imperfection. And for all you are and are not, all that is you, just as you are. I see you in there. And even though I know there is far more I don't see in the infinite spaces inside your heart, I see enough to love you.

Proximity, Novelty, and Frequency

When something happens like the Las Vegas shooting, it is natural for people to talk about it for awhile.  But a glaring cultural and personal fallacy is revealed here.

At risk of sounding cold, this event is not unique.  Random violence and bloody death of regular people occurs all over the world all the time.  These are all tragic acts committed by tragically damaged people.  They are all available to us in near real time.  Most of us can't even say we don't KNOW it happens in a purely logical sense. (We may not THINK about it, but we KNOW it if we take a second.)  Yet most of us never acknowledge that it occurs.

So why is it such a big deal this time?

The answer is simply the perception of proximity.  Because it occurs in a place we might go, or relatively close to a place we currently are.  But this is a fallacy, because if you live in Florida, for example, you are physically closer or equally close to places where this occurs all the time.  Namely, the Caribbean and Central America.

You might say, "but this is our country."  Sure.  But there is no physical barrier between those places and this one.  I can be in Mexico from Tampa in a day's drive.  And truthfully, that statement reveals a flaw and a fallacy.  The flaw: cultural bigotry, and the fallacy: novelty.

Because this event is different from what we usually experience, we take note.  This is a fallacy because for the vast majority of Americans our lives have not been disrupted by the event.  If we hadn't heard about it yet, as would have been the case 200 years ago, we would still be going on as if nothing happened.  So why do we feel different because we know of it?  Again, I'm not saying this isn't tragic nor terribly affecting for those directly involved or with family and friends who were.  Hang with me, I'm going somewhere with this.  The reason is simply because of how we associate the event.  It FEELS closer, newer.

Lastly, we are affected because of the sheer frequency of reports.  What was in reality one event with a finite number of tragedies is reported and discussed endlessly, even when there is nothing new or only marginally new.  The truth is we can't do anything with all that info anyway, so it just serves to rile us up, which is exactly the goal of the commercially driven news.  Please do us all a favor and stop using those sources.  You do realize that Houston is still a wreck, but you never hear about it any more because it doesn't generate the traffic after a while. 

This feeling of inescapability is a fallacy.  Statistically, it is now only slightly more likely that it will happen to you.  In REALITY, it is NO more likely, not one bit, now than it was prior.  It's just in your head.

What troubles me most is the inconsistency.  We can be so unaffected by the same or worse suffering for such silly reasons as it isn't in a place or context we connect with and it isn't thrown up in our face constantly.  But then very affected by something that is in reality no different, simply because our mind associates it differently!  This should bother us.

Worlds

I just encountered a rather mind-blowing concept that I need to write out to process.  It is significant because it comes from a direction I have consistently been opposed to, which gives it credibility against my biases.

Without belaboring the background, suffice to say I do not believe that reductionism is the key to undertanding.  Things are greater than the sum of their parts.  Experience is not reduceable simply to chemical impulses in the brain and bio-physio responses.  But from that direction comes the concept of gene-culture interaction.

This author I'm reading recognizes that environment and genetics, nature and nurture, are inextricably linked.  But here's the kicker.  He points out that any attempt to overly encourage one factor over the other would be devastating.  For example, he says if we had a totally controlled society that required everyone to be equal in ability and performance, giving intensive assistance to the lower performers and holding back the higher performers (e.g. every child goes to college), the result would be that both segments' environments would not allow them to develop genetic potential and variation would be lost, thus genetically reinforcing a loss of ability and variation.  This type of society and it's ills have been described in countless movies and books, so I won't go on.

But on the other side, if we had a totally egalitarian society such that every child was allowed to fully explore their gifts and fully supported in achieving them (no-schooling), genetic heritability would increase to the point that the same societal abuses occur.  It would be caste and feudal system to the ultimate degree in which people truly were born to be something and could not improve their lot.

In either case, you end up with a totalitarian society.  The two ends of the spectrum are really neighboring points on a circle.  Like Fascism and Communism, though ideologically polar opposites, they produce societies that are very similar; both abusive and controlling.

This is not new, really.  Both sides have been treated extensively in literature and cinema.  But what did hit me was the idea that we NEED in a fundamental and very real sense, adversity and diversity, not just in happy hippie self-help ways, but in gritty biological ways.

As a Christian who thoroughly believes in the sovereignty of God and orchestration on the universe, this explanation from a staunchly atheist and materialist quarter fairly solves the question of why bad things happen and why inequality persists.

Perhaps we're looking at it all wrong (what else is new).  If God is sovereign and good yet bad things persist, it must be because those things we perceive as bad are actually in some way good.  It's our definition that's wonky.  Not bad, but perhaps unpleasant, inconvenient, even painful.  But still good.

Now I hear myself starting to sound like Candide's teachers, and I'm not about to start arguing for the 'best of all possible worlds'.  That's as absurd today as Voltaire portrayed it in the 18th century.  I'm also not going to say that we shouldn't work to eliminate wrong and injustice.  Evil is evil and should be stamped out.  What I'm saying is that it doesn't follow that a kid born in a poor area should get a total hand out to bring him to the level of a rich kid.  Neither does it follow that imposing no limits so everyone can 'be free' to follow their whims will lead to healthy people and society.  What I'm saying is that fighting, struggling, dying, suffering, and going without while others go with is not necessarily bad.  It's just how our habitat works.  There is no such thing as a necessary evil, but adversity is not necessarily evil.

It is necessary to promote genetic potential and actually helps make the environments required for us to grow into what we were made to be.  Adversity must occur and succor must be provided just like zebras eat grass and lions eat zebras and hyenas eat lions and all turn back into grass.  A life lost or a case of suffering is to be mourned and helped, but eliminating the condition that led to the suffering is not in our power because it ultimately wouldn't be for our good.  Like all ecology, it's the principle of balance.  Ecology, as a nonreductionist science, a holistic science in the truest sense of the word, allows us to understand the nature of God imprinted in our world.  We can trace the hand of God, see the trails of his garments.  It's really sublime.


But don't dare take what I'm saying and use it to justify your system or even to form opinions about how the world should work.  The only conclusion to be drawn from this is that we can't, shouldn't, and don't really run the world anyway.  And I'm now more than ever convinced that the one who does is way better at it than we could be.  Our purpose is not to take our place as gods, but to rise to our place within God's living relation.

Flow

How do I start?
I want to impart
what's in my heart
using this art.

It's not new
but I bet you
didn't know I could flow.

But long ago
that's where I started
while my words were still retarded
by fresh eyes
that just began to see lies
and understand pain.
I first turned to verse
to nurse the fresh wounds of the curse,
of my generation
the first to feel the denegration,
separation,
denunciation
of the structures that promised to hold us
mold us
enfold us,
but instead began to drain...
me.

You see...
I'm twisted
and most of you missed it
because I hide it deep inside
buried alive.
That's why I gave it up.
Poetic words, rhythmic sounds abound with too much emotion.
If words are an ocean, then this is the wave
rollin at such a speed
it'll touch where I bleed
too fast and I'll stumble.
But no crutch for me.
That's like a cane
and a cane is one step from the grave.
So I bottled the rain...
deeper inside
me.

But today it came back.
I don't know why.
Out of the black
deep inside.
Rising up unbidden
flowin and goin and showin me things I had hidden.

And most of all
I long for a place to be raw
something real
sharp as steel
to cut these bonds and let me heal.

But God knows I've tried
to join, create, remold, and strive
only to be repaid dirt for gold...
you all lied.

You're doin it now!
You don't know
how fake you are
and your show
that does nothing for what I, he, she, we
really need.

Is it greed?
Or pride or self-love?
Or maybe pain.

That's it
isn't it?
Can you admit
You're stuck in your shit
just like me.
So full of yourself
and scared, crying for help
you can't see another or let them in.


You say, "Brother be open.
You're so broken"
But you're jokin
'cause I've been there in your house
while your daughter was openin'
her mouth
swallowin all those...
lies.
Fed to her by guys
and everyone she "knew"
was a cry for help to YOU
who weren't there.

She's broken and so are you and me and that other guy too.
Let me tell you about him...ALL of us "Christians"
who say they will and they want
to share a thing in your heart
and in the same breath call me passive aggressive
but that's impressive
comin' from you
who leave ME standing in parking lots callin' your phone
'cause you conveniently forgot that I was comin'
dude it was... YOUR HOME!

Or like your other bother
who gave me grief for drivin kids on my own
and then left me standin' alone
on the side of the road
with a pukin' kid and his new best friends wearin' his guts.
And you waved!
Waved and you knew!
Waved like I'm nuts
wonderin' why
I'm just some guy
stoppin' my car so you can fly by.
And you knew the kid was sick
and said nothing.
But I'm the big dick
who can't forgive 'cause, "we'll pay the cleaner guy."
No thanks dude.
You owe me what you gave me...
nothing.

God, it makes me sick.

And everyone wonders what will work
makin plans
buildin dreams
when all around are guys like me
just lookin for you
to be true
to what... you... say.

We should forgive? Gladly, ask away!
I promise you pardon
cause I just want it to stop.
But you won't will you?
No you're heart's too hardened
Hard and puffed up (what does that sound like Jock)
on the praise of your deeds
or your ego
or whatever your trip is.
You won't ask for forgiveness
but you'll sure get offended.
Call me and up end it
in a verbal tussle.
Face it, you'd love to muscle
the broken man down
and call that... faith...defended.

But there has to be a better way
If this is all we got,
I don't want to play.
Been there, man
I can say,
it's a dark place
and I know the taste
of my own blood.
and the barrel of a gun.

I'm not goin to wrap this
in some tight package
of how good God or life is.
I don't know
I'm just a lost soul
with a big mouth
a dark mind
and lots of hidden wreckage.
And I want to be done.

I don't know, but I have desired.
If I can dream somethin better
that stokes the fire.
If there's a chance God is real
then dreams might be inspired.

So that's how I'll head
through the hate
and the pain.
And I dread if I'm wrong
but I can't think that I am.
There's either nothing behind
or my soul's already damned.

So the one chance I've got
to escape tasting shot
is to become what I'm not
to let go of the rot-
ten fruit you keep shovin at me.  I am not
going... to... play.

Gospel

OK.  So this is such a hard topic, that I just wrote a screen full of paragraphs and deleted them all.

Here's the difficulty distilled.  If the Gospel is such good news that people would change their lives from it, change their personalities, go to very gruesome deaths over it, why don't I feel that way about it?  Truth is I don't.  I feel like I should.  But I just don't. 

So let's break down the possibilities. 

1. I am broken such that I am having an inappropriate reaction.

Possible.  I could be mentally damaged in a way that I can't perceive this correctly.  Problem is it's for all people.  So if I can't perceive it appropriately, there's nothing I can do about it, and further discussion is pointless.  I'll either be excused by a good God or condemned for it by an evil one.

2. I am so sinful that it's beyond me.

I thought this for many years.  It led to constant searching, anxiety, self-hatred, and extreme asceticism that even adversely affected my health.  Many of the Mystics started here too and I had clung to them as brothers and sisters in a struggle.  But here's the thing.  Some of them left that life after coming to believe God didn't want them to harm themselves in attempts to cleanse the wicked.

I have to agree here because I also feel the same way.  There was no joy in it, and joy is supposed to be a fruit of the Spirit.  Plus, if I step outside myself and look as objectively as I can, I'm seeking far more than many other people who feel the joy and love the Truth.  Many don't ever even enter such a crisis of existence.  So explaining that could force me to brimstone preaching if I go the Armenian route since they're all dead in their transgressions and marching straight to hell and I should shock them into reality.  Or else I slip into pride or despair on the Calvinist side, since I'm either one of the elect or not, as you choose to interpret the attitude.

3. There is no Gospel.

Tempting.  But I've been down this route before.  It ends in nihilism.  If there is no real truth, then my highest and best faculties are illusions and there are no consequences except to cease being, which doesn't matter anyway.  I am forced into hedonistic abandon as I try to get the most pleasure out of my meaningless life or more usually for nihilists, into despair as no matter of effort makes any real difference.

Of course there's all kinds of outposts where people stop short, such as the progeny concept where our goal is to preserve the species as a whole.  But this ignores individual suffering and identity, and worst of all, still slides quickly to nihilism when I realize that the drive to preserve the species is also a biological illusion...WHY is it good to preserve the species.  The word 'good' ceases to have real meaning...hence the reason nihilists tip toward despair.

Or if 'good' is a real thing, I'm back into objective Truth, and we go back to 1 or 2.

4. I've got the Gospel wrong.

Obviously, I left this for last because this is what I have concluded.  It comes to me over many centuries of writing, from many places, and from many directions that are unrelated to each other.  But this is where I am.  I've had it wrong.  I've been taught it wrong. 

So this leads to the question, what IS the gosepl then?  When I think about what makes me stay a Christian.  What makes me bubble over with joy.  What makes tears stand in my eyes.  What I can't help but share and what I would...seriously would easily go to my death or torture before I deny it.  It isn't any of the things I was taught in Sunday school...man, threaten to seriously start flaying my skin off alive and frying me in a giant hot pan (this has really happened) I'm probably going to find a way to reason out of most anything I learned to recite...I'm just telling you the truth.

But what I won't deny is that God loves each and every one of us.  Dearly deeply loves us.  He doesn't condemn.  He heals.  He doesn't want rule followers.  He doesn't want political duty.  He doesn't want Christians who make Christians (whatever that means was never clearly defined; sorry bro that's why we parted ways).  He wants children that climb up in his lap.  He wants a whole family of people who love each other and live in respect and not just pretend, but really truly fulfill the needs in each other.  It's not a fake it till you make it thing.  It's not a man-up thing (Geez, don't get me started on that one).  What he wants is simple, honest, goodness.  God never left us.  He never turned away from us.  Nothing is too big for him.  All wrongs will be righted.  All wounds will be healed, no matter who you are, where you are from, or even what you mistakenly believe.  Because the real Truth IS irresistible.  Who wouldn't want to fall into the arms of the perfect love and peace.  ALL of us all over the planet, no matter who, when, where, or how, know this.  I read the Bible this way.  I see Jesus as epitomizing this.  It doesn't deny other religions, it subsumes them.  I see this idea truly revolutionizing the world.  Not always under the flag of Christianity, but in a steady progression of higher and higher societal ideas which are large scale mirrors of individual ideals.

It makes me change my ways...I want to be good.  BE good, not just SEEM good.  I am free to give of myself because I know it matters and will only generate more good.  I want to tell others so they can be freed from the fears and hurts they have.  I want to help HEAL those hurts, even if it means taking some of them on myself, and thus I participate in God's work.  This is a message I would take to the ends of the earth.

And as much as it scares the living sense out of me, I'd just have to be flayed if you wanted me to say anything otherwise because denying that real Goodness and Love exist is to turn suffering brothers and sisters into more pain than you can give me.  And that I just can't do.  THAT's GOSPEL.

Missed

I am reading a modern book right now (yeah I do read modern ones sometimes).  It's by Daniel Quinn, whom I've mentioned before.  He wrote Ishmael, which is one of my favorite books.  Then he further developed the ideas in the book I'm reading now called The Story of B, and others to follow.

I read Ishmael back in the 1990's and it opened my eyes to a new way of seeing and thinking.  Then later, I read the sequel, My Ishmael, which is actually third in written order.  I liked this one nearly as much as the first book.  I'd skipped B because the plot sounded questionably interesting and was only tangentially in the storyline of the other two.

I don't agree with everything Quinn says, his history is often in error, and his philosophical/logic skills are often faulty.  But I have practised being able to "eat the meat and spit out the bones" as a friend says, so that doesn't bother me if there's good to be had in it.  But then I decided to pick up B.  It's terrible.

I get the distinct sense that Ishamel may have received such a bad reaction that Quinn went a little "Moses striking the rock".  I've seen that with other storytellers that have a message, but this one is just not good.  It's too full of sour grapes and brow-beating ideas.  As he mentions in the book itself, this time he's taking a different approach.  He shouldn't have.  But as I don't do book reviews, I'm going to leave it at that, and focus on my reactions.  If you want more, read it yourself, then we can talk.

The biggest flaw in Quinn's vision, as portrayed in the book, is that it's a reaction to an entirely phantom image of Christianity.  He seems to have a certain idea of Christianity, which I've seen practised by many self-styled Christians.  But he doesn't recognize that this may or may not be a correct view, nor that there are other interpretations that are almost diametrically opposed to this view within the diversity of Christendom.

If Christianity was what he portrays it: a sort of Dan Brown-esque conspiracy laden jumble of contradictions to dupe simpletons, which any thinking-person ought to be able to see for what it is, I would hate it too.

But here's the kicker: his alternative is very much the Christianity I know and follow!  He just attempts to rebrand it as a universal animism.  Even the strict conservative Christianity I was raised in had many of the elements he seems to be seeking in his reconstructed nature-based religion.

For example, in B he propounds that every place is sacred, every living thing.  That all are interconnected and that in a real sense, they all live out their lives in the hand of the god.  He makes a distinction that he doesn't mean the all-powerful creator God, but the less distinct animus of the single place.

Well, my understanding of the Bible is exactly this, except of course that the deity is the universal Good, the all-powerful God.  Which is very much more to his point, I think.  Coming from the obvious Hippie perspective he originates in, the Universe (which he actually refers to at one point) is by definition ONE thing.  If all life is part of this big ONE thing.  Why divide that into myriad animi of place?  Wouldn't the world itself be one thing as much as all things in it are one?  If there is an animus of each of the small expressions of the one, how much more a single grand Animus in which all the others were collected, reflected, and imagined?

In fact, I know many Christians that actually do operate in a worldview of lesser spiritual beings guarding and shepherding places and activities.  The Romantics, and even CS Lewis routinely referred to these beings as part of their cosmos.

So what is to be gained by stepping so insistently outside of Christianity as Quinn tries?  A sense of place?  Heck, I know more Christians that HEAVILY venerate places, even natural ones, than those that don't.  Even to the point that I think it's silly, since obviously one place is no better than another IN ITSELF.  As Quinn agrees, ALL places are sacred.  To me this is so only because of the presence of God in them, not any aspect of the atoms, as such, in that locale.  So my prayers are no better heard in one spot over another. Like the Centurion praised for his faith that Jesus didn't have to come to his house to heal someone.

I've seen this far too often: someone gets an idea of something locked in their head, especially if it was a bad experience, and they judge all other similar things as that.  This is especially true with Christianity.  This is the very reason I'm so dogged against Christians who knowingly or unknowingly play into these stereotypes.  Because when it comes down to it, the burden of communication is on the communicator.  If someone gets the wrong message from what I say, that's my fault, not theirs.  If for no other reason than I am the one who wants them to hear me.  I can't expect people who aren't asking the question to do the work necessary to get my answer.

But back to the former side, it never pays for us to misjudge, misunderstand.  To understand, we have to listen and explore with openness.  Not to say lack of critical thought, by any means, but with openness.  It also never pays to assume one perspective or case is true for all others.

The ironic thing, is that I learned that in large part FROM Quinn!

Holy Dog

Conscience is the Holy Dog, sent to bite us on the back of the neck that we will fall to the ground before we fall off the cliff.  I am not the Holy Dog, but I know his teeth well.  I am a voice.  A voice for the voiceless.  And my voice is strong.  So on this I will speak and pray the Dog finds his mark.

As we approach the most important day in the Christian calendar, I am confronted by you every year.  You say you love me.  You say you are a safe place to be who I am.  You encourage me to open my deep pain to you and promise that if I only will, I will find what you have and we will be closer.

But I don't know what you have.  I only know what I have, good and bad.  So I look at you, knowing you can be good and bad as well.  I know that you lie.  I see that no one can be what you claim.  I even know more of what you supposedly know than you can imagine and by your actions you confirm to me that you do not know it well, if at all.

You, church, are a sham, a show, a club created to draw me in with promises that touch a sore place only to leave me hollow, more wounded, and drained.  You are a scam.

You love me?  You don't even know me.  If you do, then why do you constantly tell me I am wrong?

We are all wrong sometimes?  Then why do you never admit it?  No I mean candidly, honestly admit it.  When I gave my vacation money that you promised to use to win the City and only used it to renovate your own building, which you have subsequently re-renovated. Did you give it back?  Did you make amends?  Did you admit you were wrong? I never heard another word about it.

When you said you saw something in me and asked me to help because I had a gift, then left me off the schedule and replaced me without a word, was that love, or flattery to fill the gap in your volunteers? I never heard another word about it.

When you built the giant community building that has less people there than before you built it...you know the one.  It's just like the 25 others at 25 other churches across the area that stand less than half full, and certainly none have fulfilled their promise to win the City.  Were you wrong, or mistaken?  When you were offered warning that this would happen and refused to heed it, calling me obstructionist and quencher, were you justified?  I never heard another word about it.

When you openly accused me of error for not giving to your church when in fact I give to another, plus several charities that you knew nothing about, did you restore my honor before others?

When you said you had a message from God for me that turned out to be entirely wrong, were you malicious or mistaken?  I heard nothing about it after that.

When you said it was a safe place then gave me a look of dire shock and quickly changed the subject as soon as I mentioned my pain, did you provide aid?

When you asked me to join your dinner even though I told you I didn't share your beliefs, assuring me it was just friendly dinner, then started a seminar on evangelism, even asking me for money, then yelled at me for asking why you tried to trick me, did you seek restitution before continuing your ministry?

When you put on a brave face to go on with your service, even though you are not at all in a good place. When you faked emotion on the stage and then collapsed in a huff backstage until the next song.  When you told me I can question, can come as I am, that God will reveal, and yet deny me access to your circle unless I sign your covenants.  When you subtly enforce the appearance before I've understood the meaning...

For all these things I call you wrong.  I call you in error.  I call you out.

Doubtless you will say I am ungracious, but in fact, I am far more gracious than you.  I know I have problems and I know you do too.  Even still I want to be your friend.  But when I hurt a friend, I attempt to make it right, not to make excuses.  I don't give sermons on how I am imperfect too and need your forgiveness...I apologize directly for what I've done.  I try to do better.  I take steps to make it right.  You on the other hand, seem more about making enemies than friends.

This is what I say for the voiceless. 

Who are they?  You'll see them Sunday.  They look like they're trying to fit in, but can't.  They look like they don't quite know how you do things?  They have a darkness behind their smile.  Some look like you and some look nothing like you.  But most of them, you'll only see once.  Others, will give you a few more chances.  And many of them have a deeper and truer understanding of the good God that you claim to represent.  Whitewashed tombs!

I am the voice for the voiceless.  The face for the faceless.  I will also be there Sunday.  I look different from you, so that every time you look at me, you are reminded of them.  You'll see that I've heard it before and I'm not buying it.  You'll see the sadness in my eyes for you and the tenderness in my eyes for them.  And then I'll walk away without a word and go hang out with them. And where we are, there will be Church.  Where a genuine affection is shared, there will be Church.  Where a fault is known and born for sake of the other, there will be Church.  Where they bear with differing opinions for sake of friendship, where one friend supports another, where both try to outdo each other in generosity, where no one shies from the pain of others because they know how bad it hurts...THERE will be CHURCH!  Whether you're there or not.

Overflowing

I have been pretty silent here lately.  On the internet in general.  I have seasons here as in everything else.  But I have not stopped contemplating.  Most recently, I had this rolling through my head:

My heart is overflowing with a good theme

     I recite my composition, concerning the King.

My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.

It's from Psalm 45, but was used in a song by Dominic Balli, and his particular rhythm to it is what I keep singing.  It's called Warrior and is essentially a series of quotes form the Bible about God as a strong force for justice and rescue.  

The video for this song is also one of the best I've ever seen.  The kind that conveys a whole story in the 3 or so minutes of the song.  It's visual poetry.  The video interprets the song into three stories of troubled people needing rescue, a bulimic, a cutter, and an alcoholic.  As the song rises in intensity, the stories reach a climax.  Then the song returns to its original contemplative mood and pans over in the last second to show the three restored people next to the singer.  a perfect resolution to a song and video with so much going on.

As someone who knows first-hand the feelings that lead to these actions, this is especially powerful.  I was a cutter.

SIDEBAR: Like many things, this label can be applied by one on the inside, but not by one on the outside.  To call someone a cutter is to brand them (no pun intended) with a syndrome that further accentuates the underlying issues for the person.  If you aren't one, don't call someone else one.  We're just people with a bad habit and a deep pain.  Same goes for any similar issue.  We don't go around calling people Allergics or Fatties, so be cognizant.  No one wants to be branded with their worst trait, especially if it can't be helped.  And this can't be helped.  If you don't get that, just stop reading now because there is nothing in this post for you but what will make you stumble.

Because of my particular constitution (in the old sense, i.e. my make-up) images of God in this aspect resonate very deeply.  I know more than most my inability and my need.  I know what it is to have a real redemptive, restorative experience.  To really become aware of this universe-wide power beyond comprehension makes me fear in the Sartre sense.  It is too big, too uncontrolled, too unstoppable.  But then to experience this power bend low and flood over me an equally big unconditional love is truly changing...as Isaiah says, it "undoes" me.

The reaction to that is such a deep overflowing love for anyone or anything I see in the same state I was.  I need only a glimpse and the dam of my heart breaks open.  Unfortunately, I can't often let out what is there.  I haven't learned how to let it pour out in a good way.  I know some understand what I mean and even have recognized it in me.  I think we share a mutual overflowing toward each other.

My dream is for a safe place for people like me, like us, to be who we are.  To be able to freely and goodly express what we feel to mutual restoration and benefit.  God show me the way to do this.  And until then, at least, may my sphere of influence be known as this kind.

Faither o' Lichts

Today, I was sitting in church, expecting the usual shallowness and questionable theology.  In front of me was a young man who was obviously disabled. His parents were on either side and doing a great job of lovingly regulating his lack of attention.

I've always had a soft spot for anyone weak or in need. So I exchanged a few smiles and a nod or two with him and began to pray for him throughout the service. I wasn't praying for healing necessarily, but for whatever he needed, whatever his parents needed, and that he would be a blessing and blessed like the blind man I wrote about last.

I couldn't help thinking of the mad laird from George MacDonald's book Malcolm. This character is similarly disabled and quite rejected. But is drawn to understand in what way he can, his purpose and destiny. At one point in the book the laird learns of God as the Father of Lights and latches onto the phrase. Eventually the laird sneaks into a church service where he is not wanted and can't help crying out this name of God. Not knowing where the sound comes from, it creates quite a stir and starts a sort of revival.

The laird repeats the phrase to his death as the only expression of faith he can make. The phrase resonates with me as one who has had many times when words fail. I kept hearing it in my head as I contemplated this boy.

At the end of the service, the pastor made a rare move for him and spoke prophetic encouragement to the congregation. I don't mean some kooky thing, but rather directed truth at us, saying each of us were directly chosen for a purpose, which is a departure from his usual academic expositing style. In the moment I was having, this jumped at me.

Just then, the boy in front of me shot his hands in the air grasping upward. He had not been so dramatic in his movements prior. At that moment, the phrase Faither o' Lichts, in the Scots, reverberated in my mind and I nearly yelled it myself.

The boy's Dad quickly grabbed his arms and lowered them to head off a scene he thought might be coming, and the boy returned to his quiet fidgeting.

But I didn't. I couldn't. I was stifling sobbing heaves and trying hard not to have to walk out of this conservative church with tears streaming down my face.

I made it to the car and broke down. God showed me for the third and most powerful time this week that he is truly everywhere. Nothing escapes his notice or his care. Even when we think we're doing the right thing yet actually stifling him. Even through this young man who no one perceives as capable of teaching us anything. Even in spite of the layers of manmade church crap piled on top of us in attempts to create the experience of greater reality we all need. This boy who is physically incapable of controlling his impulses shames us all in his understanding, and pierces the spring of my dry rock heart in the process.

Faither o' Lichts!!!

Look again

I was reading John 9 today and stopped on the first few sentences where the disciples question Jesus about a blind man.  Jesus says that he was born blind so that the works of God might be manifested, made manifest, displayed (depending on translation) in him.  Then Jesus heals the guy.

This is often interpreted that Jesus was referring to what he was about to do...heal him.  But I've never liked that explanation.  So God would make this guy an abject beggar for his whole life in a society that viewed disabilities as the results of sin and therefore often rejected the disabled, just so one day far into the future, Jesus would walk by and have the opportunity to heal him instantly?

I don't know, but that seems pretty cruel.  I could almost rather buy the Hebrew explanation that his parents must have been guilty of some grievous sin rather than think that God would subject someone to so much pain and suffering just for the one moment we get recorded.


If Jesus did mean the man was just an opportunity for him to heal, what about all the other people who are in the same boat, but don't get healed?  Are they actually the ones born in sin?  Are they just purposeless?  That makes it seem even worse!

So if that doesn't wash, what else could he mean?  I checked the Greek and it means just what the English says, "should be manifested".  So not much help there. 

The story goes on to describe how the man went to show himself to the priests, required for admittance back into society.  They grill him about what happened.  The man is surprisingly witty back to them, wisecracking on them and making the famous statement paraphrased, "I don't know about all that, I just know I was blind and now I see."  He even goes on to "teach" the know-it-all Pharisees some logic, which really doesn't go over well.  Eventually the man meets Jesus again and after a couple questions, showing a very sharp mind, the man believes that Jesus is the Christ.

This makes me think, maybe Jesus means the man was born blind so God's working in him could be shown.  Look at the guy's attitude!  Where does a blind beggar learn to reason and wit like he does?  Where does he get the guts to repeatedly insult the priests that everyone else, including the man's own parents, are terrified of?

Could it be that Jesus was saying this man was, dare I say, blessed to be blind because it made him more open to what God wanted him to be?  Being unable to pursue the rat-race trappings of life, he grows in truth.  Being already disregarded by society, the "rulers" have no power over him.  He doesn't fear anything they can do to him.  Having experienced their hypocrisy first hand, he "sees" through it more than most.

Could this be why Jesus ends by saying he came so that the blind will see and those who see will be made blind?  This fits well with Jesus' continual habit of turning the social and political structures of his day upside down.  We had it twisted and he was untwisting it.  The man we all despise is the best one of us, freer, bolder, stronger, eyes or no.  And all the things we build up around ourselves to define who we are and show how we stack up to others are utter stupidity.

Pain

Pain is an incredible teacher.  For one thing, you can't ignore it.  If you think you can, then you don't know the capacity a human has to feel pain.  I'm talking about physical pain.

I was recently knocked down by something I didn't even know could happen and which is so painful, I've only experienced one thing more so.  I have hurt so bad from one particular ailment that I come very close to blacking out, which would be a blessing, let me tell you.  This is not as bad as that, but nearly so.

Thank God there are specialists who can relieve this pain in a simple procedure.  The procedure itself hurts and continues to for a while, but the cured hurt is different and more bearable.

I'm not going into details because pain is a very relative phenomenon.  If I were to tell you what it was, some of you would think it's no big deal.  Perhaps you may have even experienced the same and it didn't bother you as much.  This would lead you to judge me, even if in a very small way.

But this is exactly what I wanted to write about.  I tend to be, and used to be much more so, ascetic and willful.  I tend to believe we can endure, not be weak, so forth.  After experiencing such pain, internal, external, physical and emotional, I am becoming much softer and genuinely compassionate.  This time, I have learned to be more understanding of the relative nature of pain.  What hurts each of us is different and we can't know how much it hurts another.  What we may disregard may be excruciating to another.

I have often been guilty of silently and openly judging, belittling, and even mocking other people's pain.  Most people would not call me a monster, but I know myself and I am seeing this aspect more clearly now.

I hope to never experience these pains again.  I will take precautions to avoid it.  But I pray I will NEVER in ANY case make light of what another feels again.

I may not know how to respond.  It may even seem silly to me.  But I hope I can keep this experience as a reminder that I am not as tough as I like to think.  That I can, at any moment, be taken out by the smallest and most sudden thing.  And that there is no objectivity to pain--what someone feels is real to them.

They may actually feel it stronger than I do.  They may just not know how to cope with it and therefore it feels worse to them.  Fear may intensify the actual physical sensations.  But regardless, the person feeling it is the only one who can judge.  I now understand even more deeply the meaning of mercy and sympathy.

I have also been helped in this time in a humbling and genuine way by someone who does not have to.  It has not been pleasant or easy for them.  It is a pure act of love.  Experiencing this has crushed my pride and roused such a deep, deeper love in return.

There are huge universal truths at work here that my words can't even approach.  But then that's why we must experience rather than just talk about things.  It's the only way to learn.

To the one who helped me, I will love you forever.  There are no words to express my gratitude.

To the doctors who can and did help in such short order, and who followed up with me just to see if I was ok, you are what medicine is about. Thank God for you and I hope you will share that perspective with a thousand other doctors.

And to anyone I have wronged by belittling, downplaying, or misunderstanding your pain, I am truly sorry.  I can't go back.  But I will pay it forward...or to use the archaic phrase, I have repented.  I will make right the wrongs I've done and honor the good done to me by doing 10 times better for whoever I cross paths with, God help me.

And if you are in pain, know you are not alone.  I will ease it in whatever way I can.  If you know me in person, I will not turn you away.   If this blog is our only interaction, know that each word is fortified with intention and love for you.  I trust that the Source of all goodness, who is at this moment and always making right every wrong, will provide what you need most in this very moment...now.