Allegiance

So my friend Dylan, whom I love and adore, let me borrow a book a few weeks ago and I'm about half-way through. It's The Story of B by Daniel Quinn, the author of Ishamel, a book every ESFer* has read some time or another (I own it if you need to borrow it). The Story of B is basically about population growth and food sources, but is told as a novel so its at least interesting. It also addresses the idea of the Antichrist and other bastions of religiousity. Well today I read this excerpt, and it really broke my heart.
"Always has been my guiding principle for forty years to say, 'Never trust a Christian.' Not once has [a Christian] ever given me a reason to change...Always your allegiance is in doubt, is....tainted. Your loyality is always subject to change. Always subject to revision according to some line inside of you that marks the beginning of your allegiance to God. If I unknowingly cross that line, then, although you continue to smile at me like a friend, you may see that it has become your holy duty to destroy me. This week you're my friend, but next week they say I'm a witch and God wants witches to be burned, so you burn me. This week you're my friend, but next week they say I'm an Anabaptist and God wants Anabaptists to be drowned, so you drown me. This week you are my friend, but next week they say I'm a Waldensian and God wants Waldensians to be hanged, so you hang me."
I think if someone ever said that to me, I would burst into tears. I hate being tied to history like that; I want to sever myself from it, but invaribly I am just as bad, to be that person who will smile like a friend then do something contraray. How I long to be genuine in every situation. I've been struggling with doubt lately but not about my personal faith, rather about larger theological concepts: anthropocentrism, Absolutes, anthropological history--you know, those fluffy topics you think of while taking a shower or waiting at a red light. This book doesn't help, nor does listening to Tori Amos. I've done a lot of both lately. Bah.

*ESFer: one who attended the State University of New York-College of Environmental Science and Forestry at Syracuse. Other books almost every ESFer has read/owns: A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold; Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond; Silent Spring by Rachel Carson, at least three Peterson's Field Guides.

At the Carwash, yeah!

Discovery of the day:
I am terrified of car washes.
The kind where it takes your car and you are to keep your hands off the wheel and feet off the pedals?
Yup, terrified.
Like, hyperventilate, twitchy terrified.
I took my car through one today, as I live in NY and the roads are covered with car-eating salt for about 10 months of the year and I would like to see my blessed 'Roo make it at least through the warranty.
I had to do everything in my power not to scream during the whole ordeal; I guess I never realized how much I hate not being in control in that situation; how not being able to see or control the next event made me want to vomit.
A metaphor for life?
I don't even have faith in Delta-Sonic; I am a piece of work.

Faith (in) My Eyes

Talked to my mom today--since I moved we've begun to talk a lot more--like it's opened up some of the walls that have spent the past two decades building and settling. We were talking about my writing and she told me something interesting that I never knew about myself. Apparently, when I was seven or so, the eye doctor told my mother that my eyes had so many problems that he wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to read, or read without serious headaches. My mom said she, to this day, is absolutely shocked that I can read, and that I like to read.
I just learned this.
Interesting.
Cool, ok well feels good to overcome some adversity that I didn't know I had.
I totally could've used that in college to get out of some assignments I'm sure. Dangit.
It's strange irony that the thing I wasn't supposed to be able to do I now want to do with the rest of my life.
I do get the headaches though, I just thought that was me being a hypochondriac. Oh well.

Suspended Gratification

My roommate and I got into a conversation about ownership. I don't remember how it started, as our conversations never seem to have stops or starts, merely trickle from one zygote of an idea to the next. I get so frustrated that I can't afford a new winter coat, or that cute Wellesley cable knit crewneck from J.Crew or whatever fickle item crosses my mind, but I know fully that whatever it is I want will still leave me as empty as whatever it is I bought previously (except my backpacking guitar--THAT was a lovely purchase. And my PFD--I love my PFD). In one religion class I took in college we called it 'suspended gratification'--that idea that your happiness was within grasp if only that next purchase was made, that next thing was attained. Stretch your fingers and happiness was yours.
I've come to hate things.
They just complicate, clutter, bog down and distract.
I remember when my friends and I paddled the Everglades in 2000--we each brought a total of three shirts for 14 days. It was refreshing when we had 'clean shirt day' , we all got to celebrate that one day that week that we had a clean shirt. It was so basic. (In a bit of fate, "Mountains of Things" by Tracy Chapman just came on the internet radio) There were no outfits, no looking good, no matching, no mirrors. It was just us. I wish that happened more often.

Opposites and Absences

Happy New Year!
Mine was interesting, long and now my hours are all messed up. While driving back from Syracuse this afternoon I got to thinking about trying to explain the importance of dating only guys who are Christians to guys who aren't. It's a kind of sticky situation sometimes, but that got me thinking about the opposites in my life, and I realized that most aren't opposites but absences. For example, darkness is not the opposite of light, merely the absence of it. Darkness is not measured, light is. Cold is not the opposite of heat, merely the absence. If God is good, then evil is not the opposite of good, merely the absesnce of it, of God. Death is not the opposite of life, but the absence of it. The reason this matters (because clearly, it does) is because of the discourse of it all. If situations are viewed as an "us vs. them"--an opponent or an opposite, then it's much much harder to have compassion for the other viewpoint. However if it is viewed as the absence of something, how much more are we willing to stop attacking and start sharing? I think about this because trying to explain why it is important to date only those who believe the same as me is virtually impossible. I can't do it, and it frustrates me. I wish I had a good similie or metaphor or analogy or anagram or venn diagram or flowchart or something, but I am at a loss. It's simply the absence of the most important presence in my life, however complex that simplicity may be.