Simple Things

The holiest of all holy sisters a person could have once told me that the way you spot a christian is to look at their "fruit". Not their melons or apples, folks, please. This is serious irony, here. She was talking about people they'd brought into the church as functioning members. I guess they had to be tithing and preaching and having little fruits like themselves, to count. Now, if you caught holy sister on a good day, she would be telling you this as if you were only mildly mentally challenged, no offense to anyone with any different ability than I, but it's no exaggeration. On a bad day...

I guess my point is, she wasted no time on such niceties as common courtesy or respect for other people's opinions or feelings. (Well, she does treat her pastor nicely, always. Hmm. I wonder if there's a reason for that.) I tried to explain to her, once, that it was not her religion that bothered me, but her manner of delivery. Officious and imperious best describe her modus operandi.

There's a well-known passage in the book they like to quote that says the fruit of the spirit (with which they claim to be filled) is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Why isn't this being taught from the pulpit? Maybe cuz no one taught them.

So, I guess we have to do it. I taught myself how to grow love, joy, and peace. I'm learning patience. I can be kind, good, faithful, gentle and have learned to control myself, more than ever. Whoop-di-fricki-do fer me. But what's good for me is good for you. Well, I think I'm more pleasant to be around than when I was all uptight and angry about those sinners in and out of the church who could transgress with impunity while I was stuck "living the good life."

And I'd still be angry, too, if I thought I had to go to a particular church to be "saved". Fortunately for us, I did get saved, I got saved from religion. I got saved from thinking I needed to be saved.

Now, I can see the love, joy, peace, patience, etc. that is in me, and even show it to the people who don't care to show it to me. Yeah, it's that good and that simple.

I read an anecdote about Bill Murray, and apparently the guy's a real asshole. As the story goes, someone ventured to tell him he'd get more flies with honey, to which Bill replied, and I paraphrase, "What do I want with flies?"

Now, I like Bill as an actor, but I picked up on the asshole bit, too, so I don't know if I'd invite him over when Ma was in town for the holidays, or anyone else I like. But if I was Bill's good friend and he came to me drunk one Saturday morning, slobbering and seeping snot from his recent sob-session, and asked, "D, why doesn't anyone like me?" I'd tell him, "Bill, flies are people, and this is a bad analogy, cuz you need people and who likes being compared to a fly?" (It made more sense in my head, but you get my drift.) We need other people, so we're nice to them.

Isn't it simple irony that they preach the good news of jesus and his salvation with a sharp tongue and a machine gun? Wait there's more. Cuz they're afraid to die. It get's better. And they're not afraid to send their enemies to Hell. Well, Hosanna in the Highest.


Someone tell Alanis Morisette that that is ironic, my friend.



Yours,

D



P.S. No, it's funny, not sad, cuz it's all a game, anyway, and we'll all be lauging in the end, cuz we all win.

2 b hapi b hapi

Short version...

Let's say you have an issue about which you are angry. You have exhausted all fantasies of revenge for various reasons of conscience and legality and are, therefore, left with becoming a hermit or jumping from a bridge (or some other tenable form of self-destruction) but feel these choices are a bit extreme. Well, other folks seem to survive lesser hardships of mind and body.

And, you've heard that no one makes you angry, so you logically deduce that if you make yourself angry (I do it less now that I can admit it to myself) you can make yourself happy. So, call it joy, serenity, peace of mind, ecstasy, transcendence, or whatever you desire, but focus on it. Perhaps you'll want to sit up straight and take a deep breath at this point. Then just imagine the last time you felt joy, and if, god forbid, you can't recall a specific situation wherein you experienced the elected emotion, imagine what it would feel like.

Next thing you know, you're thinking pleasant thoughts and the heat of anger leaves your frontal lobe and tranquility prevails. Good job. You're probably pretty pleased and maybe a smidge surprised that it was so simple. I know I was surprised to find I could do this anytime, anywhere and, in fact, had been the one governing my state of mind all along.

Oops. You mean, I've spent a lot of time being unnecessarily angry? Good thing it's just a ride. Now, I can enjoy the rest of it. I hope you join me in my enjoyment.


Yours,

D


P.S. Besides, we're both way more fun to be around when we're happy. It's win-win.

The Shroud of Truth

I read an article today about the Shroud of Turin. Hm. Sounds like a topic sure to start a debate.

I saw a show a few years back on PBS, which had different folks trying to duplicate the relic with models and mirrors, and wax and sunlight, etc, etc. They all failed miserably, saying that didn't mean it was real. It just means, however it was made, there's only one, so far. Ironically, the final person on the show, whose attempt was closest to looking like the actual shroud, had injected himself with the magic things that glow when you pass them through an MRI machine and did then pass himself through such a device and produce an image that looked surprisingly like the one on the cloth in question, and, thus, concluded that the shroud had been made as it passed through the body of Jesus as he resurrected. Could be. And, now, we have a man who says he has made a copy of the shroud (not by resurrecting himself, as far as I know, but we'll find out monday).

Hey, I was just getting used to thinking there really was a Jesus and now I have to disbelieve it all over again? Thanks. But seriously, does it matter if the shroud is real, or if Jesus is real? Would anyone believe less if neither were real? Probably. But what in this life is really "real"? Shit, two years ago, a sizable, previously "real" chunk of value in my house disappeared as if it had never existed. And didn't it only exist in everyone's mind in the first place? Didn't we collectively imagine it was worth this much and, then, when it started to be worth less, we all nodded our heads knowingly and agreed, "That's better, prices needed to come down...?"

Hm. All I'm saying is, if it's imaginary, let's all imagine peace, joy, love, respect, patience, kindness and if it's "real", let's all imagine peace, joy, love, respect, patience, kindness until it's real to everyone and not worry about the authenticity of a shroud or whose God's rocket is bigger or if we and our neighbors believe the exact right things (good luck with that, anyway). Let's just imagine we all like each other and act accordingly. C'mon, it'll be fun.



Yours,

D



P.S. Well, it is a mystery, after all and, of course, no one really knows. I mean, no one's come back of late to tell us what it's like, so, it's pretty much anyone's guess, isn't it? (I know God spoke to you and told you you have it all figured out. Good for you and your pastor, but since the other six point something billion of us are all convinced we're right, too, maybe you'll be able to find a way to let yourself down easily, cuz) No one has any friggin idea (not even Minister McSure-of-himself, who's all of, what, 47?), so why don't we enjoy ourselves, whatever we believe and let others enjoy themselves, as well. We're in this together, aint' we? So, let's all play nice.

P.P.S. Guess what I'm imaging right now? (Not that, sicko.) We're all on a merry-go-round and I'm riding the purple horse with the golden saddle. Woo hoo!