Letters to a dear friend — The Religious Experience

The subject was the bible and our path on the labrinth of the ages — This is a taste of the wisdom we shared:

yes, We grow, like you did as you found the Catholic Dogmas were lacking in, well, a basic understanding of the human principle, for lack of a better way to put it. All about the highest aspirations of a very few — Who cares what St. Augustine said — It’s like telling your kids they have to play basket-ball like Shaq, before they can even get on the court to play the game.

Not realistic (especially when you find out that St. Augustine was such a fuck up in his early years)

And the Church grows: Like when you found a home in the episcopal church and it got swept up in the evangelical movement! That sux too.

I find there is no trust in external sources. The church changes, I change. The society changes.

Why then, should the bible be viewed as a source of anything? Stories of ancient horrors visited on the Israelites by the Philistines, stories of horrors visited on the Philistines by the Israelites. Cruelty upon cruelty. Eye for an eye until we are all blind.

That way bears bitter fruit. But there are a few sentinels in there: A prophet is measured by the fruit of his teachings. To every thing there is a season. The meek shall inherit the earth (or what’s left of it))

Ken Wilber, a modern philosopher, promotes the idea that “nobody is so stupid that they are 100% wrong” — That makes good sense to me. I think that fits the bible too. But to say it is 100% right? That is pretty lame.

AFAIK, the only source of what God is really like is to stare into the God-Head until you know what is on the other side. And the God-head, in case it is a new term to you, is the constant creation of reality by-way-of the now.

And looking at the God-head requires a patient courage of one’s soul: Celarien. Does that make any sense?

As they say on the internet: YMMV — your mileage may vary

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The Peak Experience of “I Need You, Mom”

The peak experiences of life are those great moments that surpass all others.  For a mother whose children have grown up and left home, that most peak experience has got to be hearing her grown child say: “I need you, mom”

That childhood request this woman has heard a million times are now absent.  All she has are the dim memories.  Memories that only light up and shine when she hears those few words.  Memories that take her back to that overpowering drive of love combined with the youthful stamina of her “young mommy” days.  That stamina that she misses dearly.  That overpowering drive of love that she misses dearly.

The  formal businesswoman comes down the escalator off of the plane: she is only in town for a moment — long enough to make three telephone calls and a power stroll through the traveler’s convenience stores.  But her daughter is here in this city, and even though the stop-over is miniscule, she calls her grown-up daughter who is resolute in the quest of young adulthood — find out about as much of life as you can in the shortest time possible.

But today, the quest of young adulthood has taken it’s toll on that otherwise feisty and resilient young woman.  On hearing her mother’s voice, the gathered clouds of over-endurance and doubt break through the famous veneer that she shows to all: all  except mom, that is.  And mom hears that appeal from the past: “mom, I need you”

And formality evaporates in the A-bomb of the moment: businesswoman morphs, and mom is now a mom again.  A hasty meeting is arranged so that those few moments can be spent in that most intimate way.  Secrets are shared, promises made, comfort is given, mom’s word is again gospel.

That verbal A-bomb begins a peak experience that will last long after the plane has taken off.  Even coach would feel like first class until that peak calms down into the normal flow of daily emotions.

How blessed you are, mom…     “Mom, I need you.”