It’s a known thing that writing letters you don’t send can help you get the block out. I have good relations with several Ministers, Pastors, and even a Prophet. This is through my audio/video production work. I did have to drop one client who pressured me about where my belief stood. It definitely wasn’t in their pentecostal sexist mess. I was raised Methodist and some of my kindest school friends were in the church. I wrote music with a friend who sang while I played violin. People told us we had the holy spirit in us and I found that cool but superstitious. Mostly because they had such a specific understanding in mind which was not mutual understanding. This friend and I would hang out without a mean word for anyone–no gossip, easy laughter, hikes through nature. But her father took a job out of state and she moved.
I tried hanging out Sundays with another friend at her Baptist church. Her grandparents were mean and severe and should be trapped in an American Gothic painting. They drove her to some stripper pole bucking come adulthood. But I found another friend who I didn’t have to do church weekend things with–we’d watch Dr Who and discuss adaptations to Dante’s Inferno. She made high school worth being in, though she probably had no idea what I went through at home.
I have had some conversations recently about about moving past passing discussions and joining a congregation or two. But all my shadow feels is a doomish end where my free will is bent into the shape of an existing community. Community just is not a dangling carrot for me anymore. I get along better with thought leaders than I do with herds of thought. I just cannot make assessment comfortable for people all of the time. And they do not buy the joviality I try to maintain. I think I’m chemically marked by heartbreak. Anyway, I decided this morning to write a letter responding to an invite; a letter I won’t send because it is too complicated:
Pastor David,
Good to hear from you. You should know that while I respect your faith, I am also into literature and history so will not likely pretend that the story of your religion was more than adapted during times of conversion. I wasn’t there but The Golden Bough is another good reference book; and I greatly know that there is no situational logic that multiplies free will by any amount of blind obedience or suspended belief. That has to be crowd control just as we should be miraculous beasts.
Too much? I don’t know if you are a theologin or grew from a lineage of truth where openmindedness lets in devils—is there a word for that?—or other taboo: land mines, trap doors, s sounds.
But overall, I like the things you’ve said. Just want to put it out there that I feel no need to agree with your geospatial account of events. I can however see where we might agree on an end truth or two. Such as love is inherit and we should try to include our fellow [hu]man.
If that gels, then I will save my Zenner card cross jokes. And we can agree that the devil sprinkles in truths so that the truth resounds with you. While demons confirm that the evidence points to or unmasks you. As when tricksters take a joke way too far because power becomes a perverse goal once too much power has been taken away. The hurt hurt.
The hurt hurt.
I am good with this idea of grand intelligence and of healing fragmented consciousness. I feel the earth long to be within harmony with its fruit. But humans are not the grandest flowers here and show to be ailing with disease, while I for one root for her immunity. Heck, what if there was a whole core of failed higher species sinking under the eroding ground and feeding…sorry, that was a sci-fi tangent.
Anyway, this planet was designed to be somewhat perennial and with as little or as much maintenance as desired. But the aberrant of our species keep taking the balances and I would like to revisit some theories, such as survival of the strongest. The fists of miraculous beasts are nothing compared to the strength of enlightened minds, like Einstein. I get why that transatlantic cable was revealed and how crowds jump upon technology within their coming-of-age stories while lumping older ages in with prehistoric zones. And meanwhile contributing by taking up 90,000 lbs of space on average per person with their leavings. While losing their shit over being forced to sip through paper straws.
Oof, it is hard to talk about coming back to a youthful and naive belief that I’d gleaned as being important to my mom when I was wholly dependent on her and just wanted to see her rows of pearly teeth. It was a snug bubble to speak to the sky and think the trees and birds reacted to my sound. Childhood is magical like that. But as far as what you do, while I could understand need for shepherding, or for a bigger governing mystery, and that the surrender to goodness avoids obsession or compulsion in our short time before death, and that therapy moves only as fast as student debt, I don’t think humankind has earned continuance nor can this fruitful rock hold immortality.
Still want to hang out? Ha. I’m laying it on so feel free to be scared off or weirded out or uninterested in a conversation that might roll your ankle.
For your elder, I recommend an rf blocker like a lined hat for electric workers. Whether dementia or a psychotic episode, all that matters is peace of mind. Be strong. She is in there but can’t come to the phone at the moment. I’d suggest friend 2 to go on a trip so friend 1 can have some freedom to her thoughts without too much separation anxiety that has no end in sight. Of course, the Creator gives better direction than me. Plus, I can’t step foot or roll my own ankle into your congregation. It houses too many judgmental conformists who pay to be absolved from their fear. I can’t handle that headache. I did check and the rf blocker doesn’t work for my rolling mind, nor do I have any kind of intrusive paranoia. I am one who will always investigate to make sure of a good foothold. I’m like Scully and Mulder became one. And I’m a fan of technology. Btw, never did understand the tin foil hat thing — wouldn’t that make you a walking antenna?
Ok, well, that’s enough. Well, one more thing. That cannibalistic reenactment ritual is some sophisticated bait and switch. Where did that come from? Did primitive cultures eat the dead? Was it like livestock profiteers who made that taboo? It had to come from somewhere. You don’t just eat a body or drink blood without some back story. Again, I am asking. And did not grow among too many taboos or too many elephants in the room. We were taught to appreciate the open think.
So, yes, good to hear from you. I’m not asking you to expend any amount of effort or draft some kind of defense. God no. I am no homework monster, though do think that the written response can provide clearer careful wording. If it’s processed well as in reflected over. Should these thoughts be things you’ve perhaps already reflected on and you find it easy to reply to, I would appreciate understanding how to come home. If it is home. To come back to that place that made my mother happy in her faith. Though she made sure we exercised our greatest gift of free will and did not try to control our decisions of belief. So ultimately, I may not need much outside of the prayer closet aside from worry-free human interaction.
