This is just ridiculous. I just wrote out this long piece about my feelings in regard to how Christianity has played a role in my life, and as I went to post it the whole damn thing went away. I wasn't as pissed as I thought I'd be. It only took a moment before I realized I wasn't supposed to put that entry online.
I did seem to learn something from what I wrote. I learned what I'm willing to believe and what I'm not willing to believe. A lot has happened to my philosopy since I learned that the origin of Christianity was not from Judaic sources, but from the classic Greek era. Another aspect of this learning was that I found I was able to accept a docetic Christ, whereas the idea of worshipping a man as God just doesn't work for me.
I look in the mirror each day now to see if I look a little slimmer. I know I am slimmer because my old pants now fit pretty comfortably when I put them on. I've still got bulges that do not please me, but I know this new way of eating I've adopted is working for me. It's pretty easy on me too, because I eat as much as I want to without going hungry. Back in my twenties and thirties I used to go on frequent fasts that lasted anywhere from three days to thirty days. Doing this had a tendency to make me feel as if I were making a great spiritual effort to do what was necessary to access a state of physical and mental ecstasy. This happened quite frequently in those days, but doesn't seem all that important to me now.
I have a voice I hear occasionally that only seems to come when I need to stop doing something and won't take steps to bring things to a halt. This voice has spoken to me at important times in my life. Usually it speaks one sentence and then I don't hear it again for a long time. A few months ago it told me that I had graduated from the need to make the efforts to bring ecstasy into my life. I suspect my lifelong seeking is about over. I made full circle since my first doubts about my religious beliefs came into play at around the time I moved into puberty. This seeking dominated me for a very long time. I didn't or couldn't accept that it would ever end. Presently, I think it has.
Friday, October 31, 2003
I sat with some friends who visited me the other day and found myself explaining my thirty year addiction to using the Wilhelm/Baynes translation of the Book of Changes. They politely indulged me as I went through the various reasons I thought I had done this. It wasn't until last night as I lay dreaming that I thought about what I had told them.
What impressed me about this was that I had questioned many of the decisions and actions I initiated in my life for a very long time. Presently, I have no idea why I did this thing.
I was aware during this period of how simply using this oracle was detrimental to me. But, even more detrimental was the effect this habit had on those around me. It was as if I needed the permission of this very esoteric book to love them or believe a single word they said to me. I questioned the motivations of my friends as if they were possibly my enemies. Mostly, however, I questioned my own self as if I might be my own worst enemy. More often than I liked, it turned out that I was.
One of the most ridiculous questions I ask of the I Ching was the time when I had a bicycle accident and landed head first in the side of a mountain in Kentucky going thirty miles an hour and was literally seeing stars. My wife of that time who was riding her own bike came to where I lay and wanted to call an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I knew I was hurt, but the first thing I wanted to do was ask the oracle if I needed to go to the emergency room. As if the blood and the stars I was seeing was not enough evidence to show us it was a very good idea.
I worked as an industrial pipefitter and welder during much of this time. That's how I got the money for us to live on. Whether or not I took a particular job depended on the response I got from the oracle. No matter how broke we were or even if we had no food to eat. This habit took us to ridiculous places that no husband and father of any compassion and responsibility would allow. Finally, I surmise, my use of the Book of Changes was directly responsible for the breakup of our marriage and the loss of the presence of my own children from that marriage. I haven't seen them for over twenty years. It's my own fault. Why would it not be?
Then, one night about two years ago, a deep voice told me, "Stop using the I Ching." I woke up knowing that this was what I was supposed to do, and after a few weeks of not wanting to believe that I should stop, I did. After thirty years, it was over.
What I told my friends the other night finally came home to roost with me. The thing about what I told them was that I had questioned myself so deeply for so long a period of time. I don't know if the doing of this is a blessing or a curse. One thing I do know is that I can't go back and change my life. I can review it and reframe it to a more palatable memory, but I can't change the effect it had on those who were near and dear to me. Their memories, whatever those memores are, will stay the same. Since we haven't communicated very much at all since I drove them out of my life, and probably never have the opportunity before the event of my death, it probably doesn't matter one way or the other that I did what I did or that they think of me as they do. Whatever that is.
Sitting around waiting to die seems perfectly absurd when I'm perfectly healthy. The people in my natal family seem to live long lives. If I sit and wait for the occasion of my death for as long as it took my father to die, I will have to wait for another twenty three years. My mother is still alive. I expect to die with callouses on my ass.
What impressed me about this was that I had questioned many of the decisions and actions I initiated in my life for a very long time. Presently, I have no idea why I did this thing.
I was aware during this period of how simply using this oracle was detrimental to me. But, even more detrimental was the effect this habit had on those around me. It was as if I needed the permission of this very esoteric book to love them or believe a single word they said to me. I questioned the motivations of my friends as if they were possibly my enemies. Mostly, however, I questioned my own self as if I might be my own worst enemy. More often than I liked, it turned out that I was.
One of the most ridiculous questions I ask of the I Ching was the time when I had a bicycle accident and landed head first in the side of a mountain in Kentucky going thirty miles an hour and was literally seeing stars. My wife of that time who was riding her own bike came to where I lay and wanted to call an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I knew I was hurt, but the first thing I wanted to do was ask the oracle if I needed to go to the emergency room. As if the blood and the stars I was seeing was not enough evidence to show us it was a very good idea.
I worked as an industrial pipefitter and welder during much of this time. That's how I got the money for us to live on. Whether or not I took a particular job depended on the response I got from the oracle. No matter how broke we were or even if we had no food to eat. This habit took us to ridiculous places that no husband and father of any compassion and responsibility would allow. Finally, I surmise, my use of the Book of Changes was directly responsible for the breakup of our marriage and the loss of the presence of my own children from that marriage. I haven't seen them for over twenty years. It's my own fault. Why would it not be?
Then, one night about two years ago, a deep voice told me, "Stop using the I Ching." I woke up knowing that this was what I was supposed to do, and after a few weeks of not wanting to believe that I should stop, I did. After thirty years, it was over.
What I told my friends the other night finally came home to roost with me. The thing about what I told them was that I had questioned myself so deeply for so long a period of time. I don't know if the doing of this is a blessing or a curse. One thing I do know is that I can't go back and change my life. I can review it and reframe it to a more palatable memory, but I can't change the effect it had on those who were near and dear to me. Their memories, whatever those memores are, will stay the same. Since we haven't communicated very much at all since I drove them out of my life, and probably never have the opportunity before the event of my death, it probably doesn't matter one way or the other that I did what I did or that they think of me as they do. Whatever that is.
Sitting around waiting to die seems perfectly absurd when I'm perfectly healthy. The people in my natal family seem to live long lives. If I sit and wait for the occasion of my death for as long as it took my father to die, I will have to wait for another twenty three years. My mother is still alive. I expect to die with callouses on my ass.
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
I was pretty impressed by the PBS show Nova last night. They had a program on string theory. I have read a little on this, but nothing definitive. I was much more pleased with having the video content giving animated examples of what they were talking about.
I love getting sarcastic about SCIENCE. I attempt to keep up with what's new. Especially about the digital world. It took me a long time to realize that mathematics is just another description language, and that physicists are just as prone to tell tall tales as people who use words to offer descriptions. I'm even more convinced after seeing the string theory show that "scientists" create the "discoveries" they come up with. P.T.Barnum was right. There is a fool born every minute of the day.
Of course, when I have food in my belly and a place to get out of the weather to sleep, what else is there to do but create stuff to amuse oneself.
I love getting sarcastic about SCIENCE. I attempt to keep up with what's new. Especially about the digital world. It took me a long time to realize that mathematics is just another description language, and that physicists are just as prone to tell tall tales as people who use words to offer descriptions. I'm even more convinced after seeing the string theory show that "scientists" create the "discoveries" they come up with. P.T.Barnum was right. There is a fool born every minute of the day.
Of course, when I have food in my belly and a place to get out of the weather to sleep, what else is there to do but create stuff to amuse oneself.