My absence, like my living, has not and is not in vain. I am on a spiritual journey and like all journeys, I have been asking the every annoying yet simplistically valid “Are we there yet?”. For the last few months and even as of this moment, the answer has been a sweet but resounding NO. See, I’ve been trying to establish a relationship with God, I mean my own relationship. I grew up in a home that had so much faith it was akin to living in the Dugger’s household — everything is handed down. My faith and subsequent relationship with God in my very younger days was quite parasitic. I grew up with Jesus and Allah breaking bread and watching Jeopardy all at the same dinner table, so regardless where I went, I knew I was covered by grace and didn’t matter who was providing it because that was irrelevant to me. My grandparents and my dad were THE BEST hosts a parasite could wish for because they were full of faith, hope, charity, love, and all those things every religious book tells followers they need to have. I had so much of those things I would have been considered a hoarder by today’s standards, but life, as good as it was and can be, can turn on you. My loans got called in and like any debtor, I was not in a position to pay and most certainly was not ready for the margin call. Life is the best and worst temp agency around and death is the boss from hell. There I was, a lowly parasite with no host, they were gone. Dead and gone and along with them went my supply of faith, grace and all my other WW2 rations. Oh, I still believed but the dynamic had changed. I went from the cornucopia of faith, love, hope and charity, etc. to passive belief. My relationship with God had been reduced to that of feminine products — only think about it when you need them. Sad. This went on for a while until I had to admit that I’d pretty much been a moocher for a great part of my life. Yeah, yeah, kids are supposed to be moochers, users, but there comes a point in time when you gotta do for yourself and THAT is what I had no clue how to do. So, like Snoopy, I ran away from home (not really, running away is so overrated!) to start my journey.
We humans love our labels. Democrat, Republican, Rich, Poor, Catholic, Atheist, etc., and during my journey I was trying to discern what label I was meant to live under. Ever notice how every, or almost every form where you have to declare race, a qualifier exists for most races except White. “African” American, “Asian” American, “Latin/Hispanic” American and the worst oxymoron ever written, “Native” American. IJS. Same thing with religion – Baptist, Catholic, Muslim, Jew, Protestant, etc., and this led me to ask… If one professes belief in a higher being (God, Allah, Jehovah, etc.) then would that not make them a believer? And if they count themselves as a believer, is that label enough? My dad is so wise. He told me that our relationship with God is just that, ours and like all relationships everyone wants to dictate the rules of that relationship. But the key to a any good ship is to do what is best for you and your mate. So God and I sat down and I told him what was on my mind. He did not judge or question, he simply said, Whosoever will, let him come. I was so relieved. Why does it matter so much whether I’m praying in a burka, blahniks or burkenstocks? Not like I get retail and service discounts for being a Catholic, Baptist, Jew, Muslim, etc., so why is it a must that I wear yet another label? Yeah yeah, there are rules and stuff but when I took off my adult glasses and put on my kid glasses, religion isn’t all that complicated. To each his own, live and let live for your opinions of another have nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. As I understand it, all I’m supposed to do is love you. Didn’t say anything about liking you but love you as I love myself. We humans make it so hard for people to speak to us, helps us, and live with us, more less love us. There is a saying that you should never talk about money, politics and religion. This is said because it tends to bring out the worse in people but I say talk about all those things and more and when doing so, remind ourselves that our opinions belong to us and represent our truth. Your truth may look different from mine and that doesn’t mean that you are wrong and neither am I (actually it does mean that you’re wrong but let’s not quabble over small stuff 🙂 haaaa) and differences of opinion most certainly aren’t worth dying over, are they? You may catch me praying to the East, counting beads on a Rosary, rushing off to market before sundown Friday or shouting THANK YOU JESUS in the aisle at Whole Foods because my items at 25% off and you may have an opinion and you may not, but if you should, ask yourself this… why and more importantly how does the appearance of my opinion (truth) affect your opinion (truth) to the point that it would cause you to question if my opinion (truth) is right or wrong? All that’s required of you is to love me. If you can’t do that, then just leave me alone.
(see, we all speaking the same language) PEACE!!!!