Consider me in the in-between. Consider me a knower and a thinker and a rebel in disguise. I am from youth and Shel Silverstein and Comanche and road trips and fathers and mothers and climbing magnolia trees and siblings and Welsh Terriers and art. A practitioner of patience. A desirer of spontaneity, education, and a naturalness of things. A lover of birds and chocolate and suns and moons and oceans.
The Sun Never Rises
I have major issues with organized religion. More specifically, I have a problem with the word diety, God, Lord, Creator, etc. One nicest people I have ever met lost his father very suddenly today. Cause of death: unclear and under investigation. Now in normal circumstances that is enough to break you. He has a younger sister who is a year older than I was when my father dropped dead. I say “dropped dead” because that is literally what he did. My father had an aortic aneurism one evening at the end of June and fell on the bed, never to rise again despite the hours of CPR both my mom and the EMTs who later arrived performed on him. It sounds like the same thing happened to my friend’s father. He just dropped dead.
What truly verifies my disbelief and reassures my lack of faith in the whole concept of religion is the other half of my friend’s story. His mother is in hospice care with only a few days to live. She’s been fighting cancer for about four years and has now realized the inevitability of her fate. Can you imagine knowing how soon you are going to die and leave your family forever only to be shocked by the death of your husband? With her death, her children become orphans.
No religion or idea of God can prepare you for that. They all fall exceedingly, unfathomably short. The Christianity that surrounded me as I grew up always seemed to repeat one phrase, “Have faith.” Have faith in what? The fact that the best people I know have the worst lives and the worst luck? The fact that no matter how good of a person you are or how much faith you have in yourself, your God, and the people around you, death, addictions, heartbreak, cancer, depression, poverty, and hunger still pervade for the least deserving people in the least likely places?
So damn me to hell, all of you close-minded believers. I know at the end of my life, I will proudly take responsibility for the things I did, both mistaken and important, instead of attributing them to the greater plan of some higher power that never looked out for me and those I love when we needed him most. How can I believe in someone who falls so incredibly short of my expectations? How can I rely on something that has done nothing but disappoint me for my entire life?
(Source: marchist, via fornowjustcarryon)
I don’t think people realize how much words mean to me. When I can’t put something into words, I am lost. And they are inadequate for feelings a lot of the time, so I am just lost a lot of the time. A wanderer in verbiage.
(Source: anwarsdreams, via teachingliteracy)
