Tuesday, September 27, 2016

The First Place





            The last thing I told myself was, "This could be it!" I know it sounds silly but I actually thought of the possibility. It might be over. I hadn't been under the knife since I was 12 years old. I rarely entered a hospital, let alone allowed them to cut me open. Yeah, yeah, it was only dental surgery but the idea came to me nonetheless. I laid on the cold and sterile slab. I felt like a lamb led to slaughter. I gave them permission to kill me. It was only a dotted line but it seemed as if I had signed my life away. Once the drugs were administered, at the beginning of my fade, I went to God in my head. Just for a brief moment, I assumed I would now meet my fate. I thought of Joan Rivers and how she also laid herself down to die. I then recognised my lack of trepidation. I wasn't afraid of it. I was ready, I was sure. The effect did not creep. In that one moment I was able to face my maker, then I dropped off the face of the world and jumped into the darkest place. There was no dreaming. There was nothing but black and calm and peace. If this was all death would bring me then I really had nothing to fear.
            It felt over in a second but the shadow seemed to linger forever. In my childish dread, I felt surrender. Actually, I didn't feel much at all. I slipped into the black believing I would never come back. Somehow, I was okay with that. This microcosm of what it feels like to end sat relatively easy with me. The tunnel wasn't harsh or ridged. I melted into the void and never even stopped to say goodbye to my life. When I awoke, I felt stupid. I felt like I needed to find a new hobby. I tried to tell myself it was natural to think the way that I had. I believe that everyone must doubt before they slide into the abyss. I have seen so many people suffer on their way out the door that I was almost gleeful that I didn't have to have this experience through that filter. In the past, my Bipolar disorder insured that I knew what it was like to scream upon approach. So many times, I closed my eyes bearing much fear and even loathing towards what rested on the other side. I was, most certainly, scared of any pain, any extremes that death might bring as I passed into oblivion. I was always frightened to meet Jesus, or God, or even the devil. Years of contemplation and focus had chased all those daunting faults away. To be honest, after the silent emptiness was over, I began a new approach to my doom. The recognition that I was no longer afraid of facing God makes it easier to survive Him while in this mortal coil. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was nothing to survive after all. If we all end in this vacuum then bring on the worst.
            We spend our lives waiting for monumental changes to occur. We think we see them coming. It can feel a little odd when true change comes in small doses. Some experiences are silent filler. It appears that the tiniest amount of shift can have a greater and much more lasting consequence than some of the most monolithic events from a lifetime. Not every lesson comes like a big bang. There are often whispers rather than ruckus. Pinpricks collect into bruising. What appears to be an insignificant moment in time can change a person forever. More often than not it is meant to. Unfortunately, just because someone is presented with a lesson doesn't mean they will absorb it, let alone pay attention to it. People don't change their stripes, they have to be forced to. It matters little the catalyst. Fear, trepidation, that sense of nothing approaching very fast, they are all illusions. Perhaps our Near Death experiences are just that. It must be probable, a possibility on some level, that the other side is not full of light or Glory. Perhaps the other side is nothing but black, nothing but constant floating on a sea of nothing at all. Could it be that I was wrong all along? Is it possible that heaven is permanent bliss inside that ether? Is the blackness home?

"I'm not scared of dying
 And I, don't really care
 If it's peace you find in dying
 Well then, let the time be near
 If it's peace you find in dying
 Well then dying time is near
 Just bundle up my coffin
 'Cause it's cold way down there
 I hear that it's
 Cold way down there,
Crazy cold, way down there"
(And When I Die, Blood Sweat and Tears 1969)

            I have danced with the idea that there is no God for decades. The truth be told, everything I studied, everything I came to understand, always pointed in two directions. On the one hand, the light I pursued was a pleasant place to stay. Everything would be okay if you go towards the light. God awaits therein, such peace and calm we will only know when we are taken into His Presence. Heaven has no dimmer switches. Then you come to it. The fork in the road goes from sunshine to shadow. In the other direction lies nothing at all. So, if all there really is, is nothing, then there is nothing to fear. Arguably, all this bleakness and ebony and empty is unto itself something. Again, nothing in itself is something. Constructs from ancient manuscripts would have one believing that God dwells in everything. So if God is everywhere, in everything, then the darkness holds Him too. If when we die there is the true end, then at least there is comfort in the black. Perhaps the scriptures are correct. Perhaps there is peace for all, we shall rest in peace. There is a chance, albeit a large one, that the other side to our living is not living. I still believe in a personal God but I have to say it's getting harder to keep believing as my life goes along. I'm starting to think that God may well be forever in darkness, serenity in the nothing that is nothing. Bliss from leaving it all behind.




            A few months after the suicide of my first partner, I was hopelessly lost in the scope of it all. I had committed myself to my contrition, riddled myself with guilt and a sense of penance in spite of it all. The light I encountered during a recent Near Death experience convinced me that there was more to the pain, more to the world in which I lived. I went from beggar to borrower. I began to search everywhere for hints of the light. I went on a quest to study, to understand, I believed the only way I could survive God was to comprehend Him. At first, this trip was exclusively Christian in its nature. Given time, my journey took me to other Gods and other spiritual disciplines. As much as I would have hated to admit it at the time, all the words did little to quell my questions. In fact, things just got worse. I started to realize just how much human nature one could find in the Holy nature. Anthropomorphism became my catch word. It seemed not that God had created man in His own image (Genesis 1:27), rather that somewhere in our history we had created all gods in our own image. Personification personified. I couldn't handle this revelation at the time so I switched from academic study to inspirational analysis. I needed some sugar in with all the sour. I remained riddled with bleakness, walking the line between my own doom and the punishments that lie waiting for me. Oh how I dreaded more. The light came when I least expected it.
            Sitting on a railroad tie atop the hill on my parents' property, I had placed myself in a meditative state. I sat facing the fullness of a hot July afternoon. At first, I thought it was the sun. My epidermis soaked in the summertime. It spread quickly and I was suddenly overcome. My contemplation flipped a switch somewhere deep inside me. Even during my NDE I had not felt such a calmness, such soothing energy. Every question was therein answered. Every doubt, every fear washed away in steady stream. It was the presence of something far beyond what I had encountered before. The light in the tunnel had come out of the darkness but this light forced the darkness to disappear. I sat frozen in spirit. This was not imagination, something had entered me, filled me, touched me and I knew not what it was. The Christian may summon a Holy Ghost. The Buddhist may achieve nirvana. This essence was not grounded in earthly ways. It was all encompassing and I eventually found myself floating on the universe. I left like molasses draining through a sieve. I was possessed. Although I have encountered brief moments with this captor in the years that have passed me by, I have not come close to the experience I had that day. There is a part of me that yearns to reunite with such magnificence. For me,  unfortunately, that time and that person are lost now to abandon and survival. I am cold to those things which I cannot hope to understand. My heart is not hardened but my mind has become a safety wall, protection from life as a wrecking ball. 

"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness."
(Archbishop Desmond Tutu - retired, South African activist)

            I find it rather interesting that I spent my entire adult life running scared. I was so afraid of getting to the other side that I lost touch with what was on the other side. Whether it was a natural repulsion to pain upon approach or the condemnation I feared upon landing, I tried not to fly at all. It is strange that after all the years I spent trying to survive God that I somehow discarded Him along the way. Nor have I missed the irony. It says a lot about religion when eternal darkness holds more comfort in death than facing the God who professes to be the light. Although I cannot deny that I still believe on some level, I am convinced that quite often it is better to believe in nothing than it is to give credence to the institution of religion. Its subjective expression through scripture and Holy books is more a justification of the character found in the explanation than an expression of how things really are.
            Yes, there is light if you wish to seek it. You can find it on a hilltop if you look hard enough. Yes, there is darkness. You can swim in it if you close your eyes. Either one is only the grasping at straws. We can't really know anything until it's over for us. The only conclusion I can come to is that one experiences the unknown based on the circumstances one exists within. In the light of an NDE, we find the archetype we have been raised to look for. In the darkness, there lies the peace we have been taught to fear. These figments, these conditioned hopes, are nothing but an artificial pathway to a place of which we know nothing. There is surrender in the reality that we know nothing at all. I now cling to the idea that, in the end, I will survive God because the very same God I was trying to endure never existed in the first place.   





The Monster in the River

The village priest was distracted at his prayer by the children. To get rid of them he said, “Hurry to the river and you will see a monster breathing fire through his nostrils.” Soon the whole village had heard of this monstrous apparition and was rushing to the river. The priest too joined the crowd. As he panted his way through four solid miles, he kept saying to himself, “It is true I invented the story. But you never can tell.”

A good way to believe in the gods we have created
is to convince others of their existence.
(The Song of the Bird, Anthony De Mello 1982)













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Tuesday, September 20, 2016

I, Robot




"Falling in over my head
Caught out, out of my depth
Trying to find my way, I am lost
So I'm running around in circles through it all"

            I grew up believing that God would fix the chaos of your life if you surrendered to the dogma and doctrines demanded by the Holy Scriptures. Although I was raised Christian, the same idea easily could have come from any other religious school of thought. Of course if God hands out favour for good behaviour, then He must cast down punishment and consequence for our sins. If we are shaped and moved by the Holy Spirit, then it exists within us. Our Pentecost should be like the Pentecost.  If God refuses to incubate therein, we are abandoned. Lucky for us, we are constantly given the opportunity to submit and tow the line. We may be rewarded. When our vessel is corrupt, we cannot find His Grace indwelling. It doesn't matter the circumstance. Whether you're "normal", crazy or imbalanced, or even lost to the world, you had the opportunity to make things right before finding yourself separated from God. You have no one to blame but yourself. The only way to make it right with God, is to accede. To paraphrase what a supervillain once said to Superman, "Kneel before God." 
            How do you fight an idea? With another idea, of course. It's really just a practical solution. It's very important nonetheless. In order to survive god, you have to abandon your pre-conceived notions of the Holy, then set to purge your conditioning. Every bit of information you attempt to remove from your psyche, every change leaves a hole, a breach on the path you are trying to follow. It can seem there is more damage than road. Only an idiot fails to recognize the shallow from the deep and you can't just leave a sinkhole in the middle of a busy street. Something is bound to fall into it. It's the filler that matters the most. It is what you choose to use to erase the space that will determine any future bump in the road. Allowing yourself to think outside the box, exchanging one concept for another, is the most healthy thing I have ever done. It was more important for me to do than quitting smoking or taking my medication. Instead of being in terms of the status quo, I gave up one god for another. I had no real choice. The only real way to rid yourself of the repairs in your road is to repave the entire thing. It's the only effective way to get rid of the holes. Consciously choosing to evolve, switching ideologies for something better, is a mandatory step on the path to surviving god.
            It never really mattered what I did, I cast upon myself the Wrath of God. We all do it. We have been so trained, so brainwashed into thinking God behaves like a human being that guilt, and often contrition, are automatic. We are less because we are not perfect. The rub is one can never be. It is impossible to live up to the expectations of the gods we bow and pray to. Just the fact that we are mortal defines us as fallible, weak and oh so very flawed. No one can escape the reality of mortality. We always have a destination. The mistakes and errors we have manifested along that journey are the very foundation of the person we have come to be. Without the fall, there could be no rising. Without the sin, there could be no forgiveness. Life is more often than not pure chaos but you don't need chaos to struggle. Just existing can be more than enough to cause God's judgment to permeate your life. It doesn't even have to be a choice. If God punishes then all the negative, all the hardship must filter through it. God punishes us because we deserve it. You get what you pay for.

"Close, close my eyes
Sleep, sleep tonight
Adrift upon your ocean, I can hide
No more running around in circles for a while"

            My early twenties were, from what I recall, a time of great fun and frolic for me. I was excessive in my play. When they told me I was Bi-Polar, it had little effect. I carried on, flushing what they told me to take. I was indifferent to my diagnosis and eventually managed to create a living hell for myself. I did exactly what any untreated manic depressive would. I self destructed. My first partner was my saving grace. I didn't change my approach to treatment but somehow our great love grounded me enough to make some semblance of a life. His death should have been the end of me. I most certainly acted like it was.  As the years passed, I discovered a new life, a new partner and a new way of thinking. In spite of this fortune, things got to a point where I could no longer handle the impulses, the rapid cycling or the lack of self-control. I knew that the only way to be free was to succumb to my reality. When my second partner asked me to try medication, I reluctantly agreed. I put on my hope, well knowing that it's hard to repair something that needs to be fixed until you admit it's broken. 
            I have to admit that determining what medication works on me took years and much struggle. I was surprised when something finally started to work. The first day the light bulb came on. I was washed over with normality. For years I passed through life with chaos and upheaval. Soon, that would all be gone. The medication I take works for the most part. It has given me a new lease on life that I have tried to fulfill for the decade or so that has come and gone. For awhile I felt like a machine of sorts. I often would look in the mirror and name myself. I started to feel like a robot. The same process of each and every day became like a drone. I had to balance, stabilize my life so that the medication could do what it was supposed to do. I had to focus on moderation and maintaining equilibrium. Silence became my friend. Every day struck out with symmetry, each day the same, over and over. Creating a lifestyle of isotropy was the only effective means to not reaching my end. A world of panic and anxiety quickly disappeared and I was left with a calmness, a sense of peace and order. I had to create it for myself. I had to take every pill, every day until forever, at least, if I wanted some semblance of the normality that everyone else seemed to have. For almost a decade I left the impulses behind me. I was a good boy. I never missed a dose and I rarely wondered what I was doing. I became that robot, without fluctuation, without feeling much at all. For the better part of ten years  I have known this path. I have walked it for the quiet, for the oneness it had me believing I had gained. Life always gets in the way of our best laid plans.

"Will you catch me when I fall?
Will you save me from it all?
Will you lay me down in golden like a doll?
And be my sunshine through the night
Be my hope when all is gone
Be my soldier while I try to fight on
Will you keep on loving me through it all?
Will you be there to catch me when I fall?"

            Moving into a new home destabilized me. The world around me shifted in less than a day. The rental truck was returned to its place but I was not. It felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath me. I knew the day was coming. I had prepared myself, resolved myself that it was no big deal. I almost immediately took to creating a routine.  Having the same schedule, doing the same things every day in the same manner can help balance you out. It was somewhat challenging making a fit. I have to admit that the entire event sent me reeling. It wasn't just my relocation that put me off keel. Long periods of stress brought on by outside factors slowly crept into my psyche. The longer my exposure, the more cracks started to appear in my facade. Little by little, fracture by fracture, larger fissures formed. It was building up within me and I didn't even know it. Secretly, over a 6 month period, the robot started to malfunction.
            On occasion, I would short change the medication I took for manic depression. The night before an event, or something significant to do, I would lower the dosage by more than half.  I found it challenging to wake up drugged in the early morning and function, let alone drive and interact with people. Every once in a while, I simply skipped the full on treatment. I never really noticed any effect other than alertness. I had no idea how dangerous my actions were. Despite the move to Paris, Ontario, the constant chaos that life brings and severe anxiety from my personal relationships, I recognized nothing out of place. There were no warning signs of the coming doom. The crescendo built, the wave strengthened, and I was left waiting for the ball to drop. I didn't even see that there was a problem. With my family coming the following day to work the landscape of our new home, I divided my meds the night before. One simple but full treatment was pushed aside, ironically, so I could be more alert, so I could be more productive. It was a very long but fruitful day. As always, it was great to see my Dad. All the work we wanted got done and the gardens took their first steps towards perfection. After the finish and after they had left, somewhere into late afternoon, I started rapid cycling. I hadn't experienced that state in over a decade. This robot had blown a circuit.

"Calling, calling your name
Save me, save me again
Adrift upon your ocean, I am blind
No more running around in circles in my mind"

            The catalyst could have been indefinite, it didn't matter really. At that moment, almost anything would have set me off. The constant stress, the instability and all those significant emotional factors pushed me right over the top. Having skipped my medication only granted the madness its freedom. The result was instantaneous. I completely lost it in the most intimate of places. The flood brought more than a rush, I was drowning. The rapid cycling started to rapid cycle. The panic, the anxiety overwhelmed me in the most complete manner possible.  I had not felt this way for years. I was possessed, controlled and there was little I could do about it. Almost instantly I began to suffer. I had a physical response. My chest tightened, then got heavier. This may have been of great concern considering my blocked arties and angina. Of course, I would have had to give a damn. My head pulsed and throbbed for weeks. I stopped taking all my medication. The chaos in my mind ruled me for days. When I started taking the pills again it lessened, but lingered like a nosy neighbour or your true regrets. As if draining through a sieve, the madness dripped onto the ground then turned to stain. It is still with me. This pain, this angst has been a part of me for so long I don't know why I was so surprised that it might return one day. Prescriptive options only control the fire but they can never, not ever really put it out.   
            God must hate me. If the events from our life go through Him and He punishes accordingly, then what does that say about those afflicted by birth and genetics? How greater are the sins of the diseased, the imbalanced and the suffering? What have we done to deserve this before we have even committed to our error? Why do I have to strain by the sins of my father? I must have had a wicked childhood. My foetus must have done some damage. Boo hoo, poor thing. You do the crime, then you do the time. It really doesn't matter anymore. I can never find absolution from a god that struck me down before I could walk.  If He is just and merciful and loving, then I must be the problem. I get what I have coming. I get what I paid for. I've learned to recognize that I am little more than some villain waiting for future consequence.

"Will you catch me when I fall?
Will you save me from it all?
Will you lay me down in golden like a doll?
And be my sunshine through the night
Be my hope when all is gone
Be my soldier while I try to fight on
Will you keep on loving me through it all?
Will you be there to catch me when I fall?"
(Catch Me When I Fall, The Corrs 2015)

            I am quiet again. All is fixed and polished and shiny and new. I should check if my warranties cover repairs. Every pill keeps popping, every schedule returned to function. There is silence and balance and stability in my head and somehow, just for moments, it is around me. An oil treatment, new sparkplugs and a good cleaning have given my parts life again. I have returned to moderation. So I sit waiting for the beast to return. I know now that I will never have a moment's peace. Most certainly the forces that influenced its resurgence still exist and then some. So I stand facing the mirror, staring at my metal face and aluminum hands. I am ticking from the outside in. At any time I expect to go boom. Input, just one more dose. Shut up and mind your place. Just follow, you little robot. Get in line for updates to your programming. Smile and bear it. It really doesn't matter, God still hates you.





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Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Emancipation 101


"We are stardust
We are golden
We are billion year old carbon
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden"
(Woodstock, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young 1970)




            Life is hard. It is supposed to be. Without the trials and tribulations that each of us must endure, we would be stagnant. We would be captive to the same moment, the same day, the very same year as every other year. There would be no growth, no evolving. We would become benign and not in a good way. Any movement forward would be for naught. Instead of growing like flowers come spring, we would be quite wilted, limited and undeveloped. If things were easy for us, there would be little to strive for. Without the hurdles, there would be no contest. If you take everything else that life brings with it and hide for a day or two, the pain would still remain. There is little we can do about it. We must grin and bear it but only until we can't anymore. Life is hard. Living it is harder.
            No one ever gets their Disney movie. There are no happy endings (so to speak). There are no princesses to rescue and no prince to ride away with. Fairy tales never come true and chipmunks just can't talk. There are rarely fireworks at the end of each day and wishing upon a star won't make anything come true. We don't get the cartoon even with all the back story. Life just doesn't work that way. It can be bitter, hard and crushing in the most severe manner. It's not even gentle when we are sleeping. The best we can do is continue to move forward regardless of all the chaos. We can hope for our animated version but it never comes no matter how long we wait. Life is not a Disney movie and the rating has never, not ever, been G.
            You have to adapt if you're going to survive. Change is a necessary evil even when it's not. It pushes us down the road. Survival requires that you just keep going. It may hurt but you can't just lay down and die. It goes without saying. The one prerequisite, the only thing that your survival demands is that you continue moving forward. Life requires that we be men in motion. With motion comes change. It is not so much the catalyst that drives us but our reaction to it. We can curse it and try to toss it away. What futility. We can embrace it, allow it to shape us, and carry on our way. The only realistic way to adapt to change is to accommodate. Make room for different thinking. Expand your mind and your spirit. You must change to survive, so why not strive for better things? We get what we pay for. It is our karma, as we reap what we sow. You have the choice. You can be burdened and trapped in your chaos or you can grow, evolve. Along the way you might even figure out a way of surviving god.

"You are loved, you are golden
And the circle won't be broken
When you sail into the shadow of the storm
Every son, every daughter
When you're out on troubled water
Just hold on
Just hold on"
(Golden, Amy Grant 2013)

            I don't think anyone who knows me now would recognize the man I used to be then. He is long dead and gone. He no longer is. No pause. He was not a friendly face. He was often not worth knowing. He was corrupt and broken, his bitter ways met only by his tainted actions. He was up and down and all over the place. There were many reasons I once knew this state. Not that it was all there was to me, but any honourable traits were lost beneath my sea of turmoil. The path I travelled back then was a rough road and a burden to follow. The change was instantaneous. I didn't have to think about it and I did not have to ponder. It was a complete shift and it cut me to the core. In a moment, I lost almost everything. It was taken from me. The rush was silent but it consumed me. There I stood, at 29 years of age, trembling over his body. A night at the bottom of his doom ensured he was freshly frozen. The damage from the fall iced up to the sides of him. The bloody aura around his head looked more like pizza than remnants of blood and his brain. The shock must have hit me but I remember it all. My world had completely changed in a fraction of time, a mere moment. I had as well, even if I didn't want it to be true. I would never be the same again.
            In the 1994 film The Shawshank Redemption, the narrator sums up the secret to human survival. As he rides a bus to freedom, we are instructed to "get busy living, or get busy dying." I have never met words more true and profound. They have never left me since the first time I saw this movie. I took them to heart. We really have no other choice, do we? Every day we must pick, we must decide to carry on or abandon all hope. Do you fight the good fight or allow the dying of your light? Each day may bring with it enough to change your mind. You have to reapply come morning. You have to get up, continue breathing and face the day. The alternative is to hide in shadow, giving up all that ever mattered to you. It's a cold road sitting, waiting for it to end. Eventually, you will get your wish. You either evolve or you perish, it's that simple.  
            The metaphor 'Surviving God' refers to the same process. You can sit in ignorance regarding the matter or you can evolve, adapting to new ideas and recognizing there is a huge difference between religious truth and religious rhetoric. To truly survive the constant influence of, in my case, the Christian God, I had to adapt and change to comprehend it on any level. It ends up that we often have to leave our traditional religious upbringing in order to survive that god's influence. Needless to say, fighting your conditioning does not stop because you've walked away. The God you have known your entire life does not always fade, even with a fresh spiritual beginning. To survive god, we must abandon god, but then we must learn how to come to terms with the remnants. We must evolve. The Abrahamic god can be one nasty muther. Whether we call it I AM, or Yahweh, or Jesus, or even Allah, there is one thing you cannot ignore. This deity did not make itself known to bring peace, but rather the sword (Matthew 10:34). People just make God up as they go along. They don't educate themselves, often until it's too late. They do not stop to recognize the character and actions of the being that they worship. In the quest for inner peace, they end up at the feet of something more murderous, more human than we ever could have imagined in our previous state of mind. When the God we worship is more enemy than friend, it's time to flee.

"In the game of life, less diversity means fewer options for change. Wild or domesticated, panda or pea, adaptation is the requirement for survival."
(Cary Fowler, American agriculturalist)

            It has been over twenty years since my resurrection. Sometimes I stop, looking in the mirror for the person that I used to be. I can never find him. I cannot be sure he is even there. I'm not convinced that this is a bad thing.  I wouldn't want to go back, even if I could. For two decades, I have waged a war on myself. I refused not to evolve. I strove for change, constantly reaching and struggling to be better and to think better. I was initially propelled by grief and guilt but I am still moving in the same forward motion, without all the drama. I am still growing, still trying to be that better man. I had to adapt in order to survive. I still have to adjust my thinking to new ideas and new revelations. Change is a constant, even if you cannot see. Without it we would be marshmallows, unable to deal, unable to cope. A useless glob at the end of a hanger. Life is hard and it builds us to withstand. We are made strong by the scars we bear.  
            I try to have no expectations of God. No expectations, no disappointments. Where my mind was once haunted by dogma and superstition, I have found peace in the unknown. I had to discover for myself a place where, rather than surviving god, I could find Him. If I had not embraced change and allowed myself to be shaped by experience, I would never have known the things in my life that freed me. I would be trapped in the past, holding to the guilt, holding to the memory of all that entails. In my attempt to understand the Holy, I found nothing but myself. To survive god, I had to see there was nothing to survive. It took some time for that idea to evolve in my mind. There is no enemy to punish me. There is no gatekeeper to restrict my entry. To survive god, you must abandon god. As a theist, I just went and found another.

"Bad things happen. And the human brain is especially adept at making sure that we keep track of these events. This is an adaptive mechanism important for survival."
(David Perlmutter, American physician)






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Tuesday, September 6, 2016

The Last Resort











            Welcome to the final chapter of Surviving God. After almost 5 years, it is time for me to jump forward and expand my tiny universe into something much more inclusive. No more confines. No more restrictions. Rather than a focus on one area of thinking, it's time to reach for much more than I have in the last few years. If God is in everything, if there really is something there, then I must venture past it. I will not be ruled by the damage done. I cannot worship an anthropomorphic entity. It appears that I have survived. I have moved on. I must lucubrate my intent. I must examine the rest, if that is possible to do. Such a big world and so many issues, so many ideas that come with it. The past will see me threw it. With this survivor's guide to direct me, I will use any forward motion to do much more than endure.



"Falling in over my head
Caught out, out of my depth
Trying to find my way, I am lost
So I'm running around in circles through it all
Close, close my eyes
Sleep, sleep tonight
Adrift upon your ocean, I can hide
No more running around in circles for a while
Will you catch me when I fall?
Will you save me from it all?
Will you lay me down in golden like a doll?
And be my sunshine through the night
Be my hope when all is gone
Be my soldier while I try to fight on
Will you keep on loving me through it all?
Will you be there to catch me when I fall?"
(Catch Me When I Fall, The Corrs 2015)











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