I

This writing started off in a bookstore in Gulf City, Trinidad where I had picked up a copy of The God Delusion. The young woman there who is cashing me out looks at me and says, "I never thought you were a Richard Dawkins fan?"

No judgement. It just didn't compute for her. So I told her to turn to page 42-43 of the book (it's a silver cover edition). When I picked up the book I thought, 'this could be interesting.' In leafing through it, I had come across this quote of Douglas Adams and that tipped me over to the purchase. Not that Douglas Adams said it, or that it was what was said. No, it was that I agreed with what he said from the center of my being¹.

So I responded to the young lady that she should open the book to page 42-43 and read the quote by Douglas Adams. She stared at me as if I had a second head, probably because she'd never had someone suggest she look in a book on a specific page for something a specific person wrote². After a stunned pause and, for some reason, a swallow, she dutifully opened the book and read what Douglas Adams was quoted as saying. And she said, "You know, that makes sense."

And I said, "That's why I'm buying the book."

I still haven't read the book. I started. I really did. But then I started making dinner and then I realized that I had an explanation for everything that makes comparative sense when compared with just about every religion.

God's Dreaming

I've been going back and forth over a few things in my mind, and suddenly it dawned on me. You see, there's a philosophical question about whether one is dreaming of being a butterfly or if one a butterfly dreaming of a man. And it clicked. We're all in God's imagination. Worse, we're all in what God is dreaming is his imagination. It's not even his real imagination. All of you worried about going to Hell - you can stop! It's only imaginary dream Hell. You don't even really exist.

You're dreaming that you're reading this, too. Denying that demonstrates either a lack of faith or consciousness. Perhaps both. We'll start a Sunday school for your kids, because we can save them from your mistake. You, however, may be a lost cause.

And there's no sensible way you can argue against it because I can pull the trump card of Faith. If you deny it, your denial comes from a lack of Faith in God's ability to dream and have an imagination.

Somewhere, someone is screaming something about sacrilege. Perhaps even tossing the heretic on a pyre. And maybe they'd be right to. It's not my dream. It's God's dream. Whatever happens, it's God's Dream. So if I'm acting as a heretic, it's because God's dreaming that I am a heretic! Suddenly, I can sweep away all manner of things.

Be quiet or you'll wake God up. And you know how God is in the morning.

But Seriously...

I used to explain myself as agnostic. Then I gave up having to explain the difference between agnostic and atheist to those that consider such distinctions as tiresome. Did you know that Greeks called anyone who was not a Greek a barbarian? It's true. So to the Greeks I'm a barbarian. And to the Saints, I'm a heretic or whatever other pejorative they have.

So I started calling myself a Buddhist. And nobody messed with me. Maybe it's all those Buddhist Monk movies. But if I had my feet held to the fire, I'd probably tell you I'm not a Buddhist³. I am, but I'm not. I'm not, but I am. To explain what I actually am, I have to explain a lot of things. So I'll try to do some here, and maybe more at another time. We'll see how it goes.

Not Born In A Manger

My first encounters with God and religion were rather strange. My mother, who may be amused at this description⁴, was once possessed by a Jehovah's Witness spirit. The picture above shows my father and I in our 'Sunday Best' in Ohio before I got to sit down and be quiet for an extraordinarily long amount of time. Or so it seemed. There was a boring guy in the front of the congregation - they called it the congregation - talking in a manner which I would later be able to identify as a monotone. Every now and then, he would tease all the kids in the congregation by raising his voice a little. You could almost always see all the heads pop up at once. Sometimes even a few adults did too.

So God liked me to wear a bow-tie.

I think I failed to mention that my father, too, was possessed by a Jehovah's Witness. They were distinctly separate possessions, my mother and father, but the spirit was there. I read all the books that were given to me to read - words always were attractive - and it wasn't long before I realized the ultimate truth of everything.

God did it!

I thought that was the perfect excuse. "Who left the Legos all over the floor?"
GOD!
"Why did you eat those cookies?"
God said it was OK!

But somehow, deep down, I knew that the phrase, "I don't know" would be better received than my parents realizing that their child had a special relationship with God. That we played with Legos together, built space robots and defended the Universe from the neighbors space robots. So I never used it that I recall. Either that or I blocked the resulting spanking I must have gotten.

The point is that the adults were very interested in God. But all things being said, God didn't seem too interested in me. When the bullies at school gave me a hard time, I honestly did try to turn the other cheek. But those bullies were ahead in their reading: They hit me in the other cheek. Conniving bastards. So I decided that if God wouldn't do something, maybe it was because I was supposed to do something besides turning the other cheek. Going a little crazy and beating the snot out of one on the schoolyard and not being caught must have been a sign from God, right? Good old Jehovah. He was just making sure I could take care of myself.

Of course, the whole thing makes more sense and takes less time to tell if you take Jehovah out of it. But I hadn't gotten that far yet.

Birthdays. I had no birthday parties up until age 10. They said - they being a bunch of larger children who claimed adulthood - that Jesus didn't celebrate His birthday, so neither should we. And that almost makes sense. Except... we don't know Jesus didn't celebrate his birthday. I read and read and read. It said nothing about him having a birthday party. But it also didn't say anything about him not having a birthday party. The same was said with Christmas.

Then I thought, "That poor kid! Jesus was a Jehovah's Witness!". And without knowing it, I had struck on the circular argument. I was OK with all of this until a Jewish girl at school (a Rothschild, as I recall) told me that Jesus was a Jew. So I asked another friend. And another. So the wisdom of the 1st grade verified that Jesus was a Jew, not a Jehovah's Witness. And Jewish people celebrated birthdays. No Christmas, but Hanukkah.

And wait a minute! What about these three wise men and the gifts that first night?

Clearly, the adults had this all wrong. They did that a lot, but I had no idea how much until I almost became one myself.

(to be continued)

¹ Somewhere there is a marketer who will now write a book about appealing to the center of the being of a market. Ain't that original...
² And I keep forgetting people think that is weird. So I slip now and then. Sorry.
³ I'd also tell you that I have a burning sensation in my feet and need some tinactin.
⁴