I Make Myself Sick

I’m just done reading an article I stumbled on somehow online. It’s on the Fox news site somewhere and it was by a self-professed Christian mother. In it she talked about how her Mother wouldn’t let her listen to Britney Spears when she was 6-years old and it finishes with a quote from the Bible. It just about made me vomit actually.

I wondered for a minute about what kind of a person I am that I have this virulent reaction to these ‘Christian’ articles and messages. Am I bad for feeling like I want to puke when people quote ‘scripture’ at me? I realized, this isn’t a new reaction, I have felt this way much of my adult life…. start quoting the Bible or telling me what is the ‘right’ way to live my life and I want to throw up. Literally. All this Jesus stuff makes me cringe and feel ill.

It’s not that I have anything against Jesus or the sayings and actions attributed to him in the Bible. Nope – there is nothing at all wrong with Jesus. The Christ – the Sun – the Balance – the reborn and initiated….. Nothin wrong here. The Bible is the best occult tome I ever read.

What gives me this feeling of wanting to vomit then?

Well, I guess I view these ‘Christians’ the same way I see extreme Islamists. Deluded and dangerous. All religion when it is used to ‘control’ us is anathema to me. Religion is responsible for hatred, death and destruction and not much else in my book. What is it about people who believe they have a right – God given too – to tell ME how to live my life? How I live my life is between me and my God and nothing to do with you. I do NOT want saving thank you! Not by you! Only I can save myself. I am responsible for my actions.

I’m being honest but these religious do gooders make me want to be sick. I mean literally! It has always been that way with me. I am embarrassed for them to be honest….

Then, I spent 20-years in Texas and I saw for myself the total hypocrisy of these people… Preaching some big act every Sunday, snidely critiquing everyone else’s life and all the time getting richer and richer and richer…. and abusing their positions of power, prestige and wealth….. The words of Phil Collins song come to mind. These people make me sick – I mean literally.

If heaven is full of people like this – I do not want to go there! That heaven would be a living Hell for me!

Now, I’m not knocking faith here understand. I’m not knocking those who live their lives in faith. Those who quietly put into practice what they believe each and every day. Those who through example, provide the rest of us with reason to meditate. No…. not I am knocking the Divine….

I am just sick of people telling me what I must do and how I should think because this is what they believe… Believe what you want but don’t you dare preach to me. You want to influence me, show me in silent example.

In all my adult life, the political opinions and remedies have never changed. I used to take sides. I did. But I learned that actually, it’s not what I think that matters but how I act. Example, If I were raped and got pregnant, would I want the child? How could I know? What a nightmare scenario! This is not the kind of thing to tell people how they should behave or fear hell and damnation – they are already in a living hell of decision making, emotion and pain. This is a case of letting that person make their own mind up and of supporting them in that decision. In educating them impassionately in order for them to make a decision but then supporting them in that decision.

For me, we are here to learn. The only way to learn is to experience and make mistakes. This is how we learn. This little story called The Egg that you occasionally see online, I think says it very well… and it tells me that even though these overtly religious types make me sick – they are on the same path as I. They may even be me.


The Egg

By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.




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