I’ve become more philosophical in my advancing age, which is hugely unsettling because I prefer the days of old — when I just went with the flow.
I acknowledged stuff happening around me and in places far away — and pondered the impact long enough to polish my CD player for another round.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care about the Oklahoma City bombing or the World Trade Center attack that didn’t take down entire buildings — it’s just that I was young enough to believe that the good guys would win. I mean, that’s what God said — right? If you do good and stay in that space without fail — something great will manifest to vanquish the bad guys — so they never hurt anybody again.
I’m now scarily old enough to comprehend that being a human being is a complex endeavor that can’t be rectified with the Lord’s Prayer or the Apostles’ Creed.
I also honestly miss believing in God.
I’m not discounting The Holy Trinity, in fact just the other day, I recited the Lord’s Prayer as if I were back in my bedroom — with the sun caressing my neck and the carpet prepping my knees as my lips moved with the eagerness of a ten-year-old.
I tested myself after I took a huge puff of the “good stuff” and felt my limbs descend as my eyes turned to the black screen — and instead of grabbing the remote I began to utter the words that just appeared in my mouth.
When it was over I wanted to shout Hallelujah! This was divine intervention! Or maybe my high was carrying me away and depositing me in the field where dreams awaken you to the tragedy of realness. I knew damn well, that the euphoria that lasted too long — wasn’t from God’s immaculate favor — but rather an interlude of hope beyond reason.
I know you believe in God, and you’re thinking what a douche I am for even contemplating ways to trap the Lord into revealing His true identity. I grew up believing that if you curse Jesus out with all your might — he will strike your ass down faster than you can say “Amen.”
Well, I’m still here.
I’m waiting to go to heaven — even though I haven’t done the work required for entry. I never pray — and at first there was a lot of guilt, but like most things — I got used to it. Every Sunday evening — while speaking to mom and dad — I lazily promise that church was awesome as usual.
You can’t tell your parents that going to church only makes you wish for the fury of hell. You can’t confess that the only reason why early morning communion suddenly became your miraculous mandate — is because the hotties from King’s College — drove fast and furiously to the doorstep of the cross.
You also can’t tell the people that fucked and made you — that you feel like shit about the mystery behind humanity and how you absolutely don’t agree that heaven will take us all.
The most vile and unprincipled motherfuckers on earth — usually call on God’s ability to forgive the unforgivable.
They hide behind the pulpit of superiority with bedazzled organs — that play on command — as the millionaires with spotted buttons and bulging biceps — narrate the will of God — with eyes on cocks and pussies. They astutely follow the will of the Almighty — when the door closes and the decor of awards and the tormented face of Jesus Christ — are all that can comfort the penetration you feel.
The house of god or the mega-buildings that serve as billboards of air conditioning and the cushioned seats that demand payment when that thing approaches — and you dump a bit of what you have left — for the sake of the salesmen that use God as a bowling pin.
Evangelicals with scarves dipped in hues of authority — rapture minds into the activities that make Lucifer annoyingly cautious. Suddenly you’re swept into the rhetoric of intolerance and the obedience of a timid mind that can’t escape the habits of alienation.
It takes guts to be human.
It’s hard as fuck to get your human side to climax into splatters of tolerance and selflessness. It’s so damn complicated — to begin the sorting process — which entails more than we’re inherently willing to offer. You have to be open to the idea that there are many that won’t resemble or even sound like you. You have to be okay with accommodating the unfamiliar — and not surrender to the low bar of mockery — to save the verses in the bible from extinction.
You must encounter the weirdness of exposure, and let it enhance the view that always seems to be distorted by the passages that only claim those who are courageous enough to be less brave.
Heaven can’t take us all because goodness has no barriers and that’s how it’s supposed to play out — whether God ordains it or you simply activate the truth.
Where were you before you got here?
Exactly. You have no idea where you were, but once you became a living being with the soul that you developed — the energy that was retained before contamination — will be your pod — when your last breath signals the end.
The pearly gates and the rings of fire keeping hell in business with the assistance of Hitler and his followers — is a fable that was written to keep us firmly rooted in the mental assault — that is carried out for the advantage of the powerless — who are being powered by something that only exists when you can’t fuck the one you want, while hating those who can.
If you want to be human, tell God to go fuck himself and then forgive yourself afterwards.
Feel how human you feel and then spread your vulnerability far and wide. Maybe then — heaven will allow us all.