OK,
For what it is worth, I have sooo felt like Tammy before, wishing on the one hand that I had it in me to just give in to the fairytale of the prevalent Christian faith, for no other reason than to feel connected, both to others and to the big scary unknown, and on the other hand, being afraid of that happening to me against my will.
I've known too many good people over the years who, after not having seen them for awhile, have suddenly found Jesus, and become less than they were. I'm sure they would see it just the opposite, but I'm speaking selfishly here. When people I've known go all Jesus-y, they invariably become more shallow in every conceivable way as far as my interactions with them are concerned. Period. I NEVER want to do that. And I don't care to enter into any type of theological debate here either. I'm just saying that in my experience, every person I've known who has found Jesus has suffered a tangible loss that affects me directly. And it isn't just my bias against religion that makes me see it. I've noticed the change in certain friends before they revealed their new-found faith. It's nothing I want, and while I can understand their belief in the benefit of their new faith, I just don't believe it to be anything more than a giving -up, or a settling-for.
Death, God, what happens next.... all of it is so uncertain, and I as much as anyone else yearn for the truth... but not so much so that I am willing to accept anyone's belief structure because parts of it seem to ring true. I am constantly struggling with reconciling my belief that there is a God and the uncertainty of ever knowing. One thing I know IS certain is that life is short, very short, and it is all we know we have, and that the only consequences that I am concerned about relate to this life. I struggle not with the what-if's of what comes after, but with the choices I make with the limited time I have.
I'm not a person who needs a great deal of comfort, and I guess that is both a blessing and a curse.
My father's dying made me realize that I squandered a lot of time, and I wish I had worked harder at setting things right with him. But now that he's gone, I'm not concerned with ever seeing him again. What I have left of him that he left behind is nothing tangible, but it's enough... it has to be. There's nothing else.
But that's OK.
I used to be afraid of turning into my father. And there are parts of him, big parts, that I see in myself that I am still afraid of and that I don't want. But his passing has revealed to me the good parts he's left in me, and they are good things.
I believe in the divine nature of the human spirit. And I don't mean spirit in the sense of some entity that goes on after our bodies perish. And I don't mean divine in the sense of some omnipotent power. I mean spirit in the sense of a human willingness to step into the unknown boldly and joyfully, embracing the fear and uncertainty that comes along with doing so, just to see what is possible. And I mean divine in the sense of brushing against something larger than just one life. Whether that's an idea, or a force of nature, or some collective subconscious or whatever, it is connecting to something bigger than just our own limited experience.
Though my dad made his way back to church in his later years, that is not what he left me that I value. He left me something greater than that.
His appreciation of performance art and music verged on awe, and this perception is something we share. It is a huge part of what gives me comfort. It is the way I see the divine, and it doesn't come from an outside source; it is purely human.
It's in the amazing stories of people exceeding the limits of what came before, whether in art or science or politics... in all the thousands and thousands of ways people do it every day, that I find comfort and hope and connectedness. And most importantly, inspiration to join in and participate in the unique gift of being human.
To illustrate my point, I offer these few things; they are just examples of some of the amazing things people can do that happened to come my way today.
Read about how scientists are combining viruses and nanotechnology to be beneficial.
Read here to check out one of my favorite poems by on of my favorite poets.
Now watch these videos. I mean, DAMN...
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7 comments:
The guitar thing is cool. Your link to the poem doesn't work.
" they invariably become more shallow in every conceivable way as far as my interactions with them are concerned. "
I have also known people, not necessarily Christian, who lost touch with their spiritual side, and become just as you say. It's not that atheism bothers me, it doesn't. I have known some amazing atheists to whom I could sit and listen for hours, and be inspired spiritually.
I think when it's all said and done, the only truthful answer is, "I don't know." If more people in the world admitted that, we would all probably get along a lot better. It's kind of hard to have a holy war over not knowing.
We have our beliefs and preferences, along with our opinions, hopes, and wishes, and yes our crutches too. What we do with those can bring war or peace, eliminate world hunger, take us into outer space, compose sublime music and prose.
It's sad how many of us recently have expressed feeling disconnected or isolated in this matter. On the other hand, speaking out brings the commonness of it to the human condition into the light.
I agree, the here and now and what we do with our time here on Earth, how we treat those we love, even those we don't love, is what matters most. Life is short, and we don't get do overs. Even if reincarnation exists, I will not get this ever again. It's precious.
By they way, I meant to compliment your post: Nice post, Tyson.
Happy Father's Day, darlin. Hugs and stuff.
OK, I fixed the poem link. And I'm not being condescending here, but I thought I'd give a brief explanation of it for those of you who don't want to work your way through it:
The poem is a metaphor for exploring our lives and inner workings through the medium of words, i.e. the diver is the poet, the wreck is life experience, and her words the tools by which she illuminates pieces or sections of an otherwise murky and indistinct subconscious...
or something like that. :)
Spoiler alert! That's not an explanation. I didn't read it on purpose... going to the poem now.
It's a nice poem, Tyson, worthy of favoritism.
Lovely post, by the way.
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