Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: Buddhism, Catholicism, Christianity, faith, life, prayer, random, religion, science, thoughts
This morning’s drink: Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf Genmaicha Green Tea
On Tuesday, I was gripped by a force as I was getting ready to leave for work. I lotioned my arms, put on my watch, clipped in my earrings, and turned to leave, but something stopped me before I reached my bedroom door.
My body followed as I turned my eyes back to rest upon the jewelry box sitting on the dresser. Nut-brown and worn, each drawer is filled with trinkets I rarely wear anymore, or even think about. Yet, instinctively, I reached for the left wing that opens like a door, and holds a small series of gold chains. On the far left is a roped one, with a delicate gold crucifix looped on. As if I’d done this every day, I unlatched it and put it on, then grabbed my things and locked the door.
That evening, as Big Josh and I drove to American Shooting Center to look at 9mm’s, I told him he was driving me to prayer. He laughed before he apologized, but I can understand a little as to why he would. We haven’t talked about religion much since we started seeing eachother – though we have had somewhat extensive conversations about faith. It’d be a lie for me to suddenly say that I’ve held on to my relationship with God all my life; the mismatched background almost by default lends itself to comedy.
Still, in times of need, I find myself drawn back into the religions I’ve known. Then, almost as quickly I find myself alienated all over again. The Protestant faith I celebrated in Sunday school seems too flaky, the Adventist faith too cultish, the Catholic faith too intangible and the Buddhist faith too self-centered. Obviously, I haven’t tried them all, but I find myself wishing for someone to simply give me the raw materials of faith so that I can cut through the middle man.
Some of them are easy enough to pick out; in Protestant Faith and Catholicism, many of the Ten Commandments:
4. Honor your elders
5. Thou shall not kill
6. Thou shall not commit adultery
7. Thou shall not steal
8. Thou shall not bear false witness
9 & 10. Thou shall not covet
These seem pretty safe as basic premises of not being a jerkface, and a generally unpleasant person. And let’s face it – some of us actually need rules in order to achieve this.
I also like the objective outlook and logic of responsibility in Buddhism’s law of dependent origination, which basically mimics Newton’s 3rd Law of mechanics – every action has an equal and/or opposite reaction, or do unto others as you would have done unto you. When science and faith collide, I’m pretty much sold.
Finally, despite the crazy childhood experiences I had in the Seventh-Day Adventist school, I have grown to appreciate the tenets of the faith that are flexible with the times (i.e., a rather liberal view on abortion) and yet maintain that a simple life is the best way to celebrate living. Plus, they extol the benefits of eating crickets and grasshoppers, and they argue that Saturday is holier than Sunday, so someone over there has got a sense of humor. Also important for faith.
So I suppose I’ve got a decent sense for what my ideal faith teaches and believes, but if I’ve created a faith, who do I pray to?
When I pray now, I imagine that I’m talking to God, and I haven’t been struck by lightning yet. And, really, I never pray with the expectation that I’m going to get what I ask for – it’s more to achieve that sort of relieving release that I imagine Victorian doctors proffered in the practice of leeching.
It’s amazing what happens when you simply get things out of your head.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: conscience, conscious, dreams, faith, free-will, lies, life, random, subconscious, thoughts
Tonight’s Drink: Rodney Strong Merlot.
When I was in Junior College I took what has probably been one of the more influential classes of my college career; a humanities course called “The Bible as Literature.” As you may have guessed, the course was centered on a complete read-through of the bible – in this case, the Oxford Annotated version, with the Apocrypha. My professor, whose name escapes me, was flamboyant and heady, but very sharp. When he got really excited, he would V his arms out to his sides and point his middle fingers into the air in dual-bird motion to each corner of the room. Then, when it was time to answer questions, he’d call on you using the same middle fingers. It was very disarming, to say the least.
I bring up this particular class because it was my first introduction to the concept of free will. Obviously, in the eyes of the church, I’d been exercising free will my entire life, compliments of God. But in this class, the professor made a point to talk about how God’s bestowal of free will upon man had made him different from animals, and therefore subject to greater scrutiny in their choices between right and wrong.
“Do angels have free will?” I asked.
“The bible doesn’t talk much about angels,” he said. “But based on the information, I would say no.”
I was dissatisfied with the answer at the time.
The concept of free will has its basis in the conscious mind. Your conscious self makes decisions, interacts with others, drives your car, buys your clothes, and eats your food. Your conscience is the name for the knowledge you use to make these decisions. The ideas and activities that fall under ”right” and “wrong” are organized in your conscience.
But your subconscious is always there in the background, lurking. With stronger opinions and greater convictions, your subconscious just lets you think that it’s up to you. Like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, it’s out there.. just waiting to boil your bunny and show you who’s boss. Then you have a wierd dream, or you check out your married coworker, and you think, “Am I a bad person? I’m having these thoughts, and they’re coming from my mind, so it must mean I’m bad.”
But you can only be bad in your conscious state- that’s the only state you have control over. But how free is your conscious state, really? Your subconscious is around whether you’re asleep or awake, so how would you know you weren’t being controlled by your mind?
I was awakened on Wednesday at 2 a.m. by a dream in which I was driving on a rainy highway along the Mendocino coastline. In front of me was a Ford Bronco or a Chevy Suburban, multi-colored, and we were both driving at a decent clip as Northern Californians do. As we approached a bridge over a creekbed swollen with rain, a huge pileup materialized in the slow lane. What looked to be a new Dodge Charger or an old Cadillac DeVille swerved to miss the wreck. The quick move sent the Bronco/Suburban veering, which transitioned quickly into a hydroplane-induced 180. Suddenly, the backwards-facing SUV slammed up against the bridge railing and flipped over the edge, sending it crashing, upside-down, into the rocky ravine 20 feet below. I was three cars behind, watching the whole thing in shock. I knew that person had to have died.
The fact that this was only a dream should have been a relief to me. But I was caught off-gaurd by the fact that my own mind could surprise me with such a complicated chain of events. How did I not see that coming? Why was I so surprised that it did? And, more importantly, why was I feeling so much anxiety over the whole thing?
I would argue that consciousness does not equal free will – it only offers the opportunity for critical thinking. This is the reason why psychology can only interpret human reaction based on the psyche. The psyche is the body, the conscious mind is just the clothes it is wearing. And just like the way my walk swings a jersey skirt around my knees, so, too, does the walk of the psyche directly influence the movement of the conscious mind.
And this is the reason why that professor could assume that angels do not have free will. Because they don’t have the option to think critically or make mistakes. This is not to be mistaken for any will at all, which is what Lucifer exhibited during his descent. Your will can be evil, and some people’s wills are – many of these same people consciously fight their will before they give in to it.
The trick is, then, to know your will at its extremes. Know what you’d die for, know what you live for, and know what you absolutely will not allow. If you don’t like what you find, be prepared to fight it for the rest of your life. Or, more simply, take ownership of it, and take comfort in knowing that you’re aware of the things people may not like about you or, for extreme cases, the things that will eventually put you in jail.
And if you’re still skeptical, try fibbing to a lie-detector test.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: , Bethesda, faith, family, guilt, life, martyrs, Maryland, people, random, thoughts, work
Last night’s drink: House merlot at the Saphire [sic].
I successfully evaded three hours of dining with my coworker last night, and opted, instead, to take an early evening nap and a walk around downtown Bethesda. This part of Maryland is very cute and made for rich people. It has safe options, like Rock Bottom and cute little boutiques. But every town, no matter how ritzy, has it’s dive. The Saphire was my saving grace, along with Tony, Charlie, Chris, the bartender, and the Tastee Diner we went to after I’d had a few.
Tony, who graciously covered all of my food and drinks last night, couldn’t understand why I wasn’t thrilled to be in a job that sent me last minute to Washington D.C. The thing is, he was right. And I am grateful for the paid trip, and the expensed food. What I’m not grateful for is the 24 hour company of martyrs and health nuts.
I’ve struggled with the ability to blow off martyrs for… well, forever. If you are secure in yourself and your abilities, confident in your work ethic, and have reasonable self-esteem, martyrs should not bother you. I have all of those things, and martyrs get me every time. Whether they are family members who take on the extra load, or co-workers that treck into work with the flu, they always ping me in that one cerebral spot – the one that makes my jaw tighten with guilt. As soon as I’ve been exposed to their cross, all I can do is think about how I should be doing that, too.. and how inadequate I am as a result.
Of course, an hour later I’m over it – even sooner if I have a glass of wine to wash it down. But what can I do to circumvent it all together? The readiest answers are to either: a) tell that person to get a life; or b) tell the world to go F itself. I’m not the kind of gal that would do either of those things, so those aren’t viable solutions for me, as relieving as they sound. Besides, it’s my problem that these people are getting to me – not theirs. I need to find the anchor inside me that I can hold on to when I get the urge to throw things at these people’s faces.
….and… nothing comes to mind. Normally, I’m pretty good at identifying this stuff, but all I can think is that I just want martyrs to leave me alone. Stop making me feel guilty for enjoying myself after work. Stop making me feel bad for eating chocolate cheesecake. Stop making me feel like a selfish brat for not visiting my grandparents all the time. I put in my hours – I exercise willpower – I write them nice, long handwritten cards every few months. I pay my dues, dammit – and I don’t rub it in your face to prove it.
I think some people need to identify with their suffering, because they can’t identify with their joy. They need it to bond with others, and to have meaning in their lives. Suffering is, I believe, the root of all faith in religion. If you never had to see through a bad time, you never had to have faith that you would. So when you bond with others and you find your spirituality in the things that bring you down, it’s no wonder that you feel the need to put it out there. Maybe these people, in actuality, are trying to bond with me, in a funny way? I don’t know… I think martyrs hate competition.
Joy doesn’t prequisite faith, though it can spring from it. And I can identify with my joy a little too much sometimes. I still have faith, though, but I think mine springs more from confusion and that wierd, floaty feeling of the unknown. And I think I bond with people more over the unknown than the grief that sometimes comes from it.
It’s not likely I’ll be persecuted anytime soon, as a waspy, middle class chick from Southern California. But I hope I don’t try to bond over it, if I ever do.
I’d rather just go get a drink with you.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: Catholic, church, communion, confirmation, faith, life, random, religion, spirituality, Sunday, thoughts
This Evening’s Drink: still Banrock.
I’ve been baptised twice to date, but I’ve always held a candle for my first time: in the Catholic church. Of course, two years later my parents divorced, and my mom was disowned from the church, but it didn’t stop her from letting me sing with my Nana at the age of 6 in front of the whole pulpit, or from taking my sister and I to Midnight Mass every Christmas.
I attended many Sunday schools in some Protestant church down the road, but I always had an affection for Mass. I love the rituals and the repetition, the special prayer before dinner, and the “secret handshake” of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Communion was special to me, and kneeling in the pews thereafter, I would pray so hard.
Of course, reality hit sometime around my teens, when my sister and I stood and watched everyone else, including extended family members, filter down the isle of the church to take communion. I’ve never been confirmed, so really I’m not allowed to reap the benefits of the body and the blood of Christ. I’ve always wanted to, though. Now that I’m alone, I think I finally will.
I found St. Joseph’s church in Little Italy, which offers adult confirmation classes. I can imagine that these look a lot like Traffic School – a bunch of adults, obviously hitting some sort of spiritual reprimand, and seeking the pass that will write off their sins. I already have two rosaries (gifts) and many bibles (gifts), and even a little pocket guide to “What Catholics Believe,” but I have a feeling that this sort of thing supercedes preparation.
One thing I have come to realize about myself is that faith is so important to me – moreso than I ever wanted to believe. But I do have faith that every action is a reaction to reason, and I want my children to grow up in a world that has hope and faith. Even if they don’t choose Christianity, I never want them to feel that they are the kickball on a metaphysical field. You have to have faith; otherwise you never have peace.
I’m going to attend mass this Sunday to make sure that I like the church before I commit a year or so to its teachings. Then I’ll spend next week in Vegas, and be back with plenty of reasons to go to confession.
