Saturday, September 30, 2006

Entry XV--Perfecting the Hatred of Life (Part 2)

While the hatred of life has been around a lot longer than christianity, christianity has perfected hating life.

Why regard the notion of a spiritual existence beyond death as the 'hatred of life?'

After all, some would regard that characterization as a bit dramatic. Over the top.

But that's what it is, when you pull back the nice little curtain of 'heaven,' that's what you see...

Life being hated for being life.

With christianity, it all starts with the crucifixion, or “crucial fiction” as it might better be classified. The crucifix is the perfect symbol for representing christianity’s hatred of life; the dead deity hanging from the cross, like fresh meat after the kill.

The crucial fiction and its primary symbol reveal out in the open that the focus of the religion is clearly affixed to christ’s death, and not on christ’s life, not on christ’s teachings, not even on christ’s 'glorious resurrection.'

Why isn't the symbol that of christ emerging from his cave/tomb, resurrected from the depths of hell and triumphant? If you recall, in the third fictional segment (purple), the boy Roger asked the priest why the stations of the cross did not depict christ's resurrection and ended with his being laid in the tomb.

Why isn't the symbol that of christ surrounded by a flock of his followers, eager to bathe in his divinely inspired wisdom? Surely that would project a more positive representation of christianity?

Why is the central symbol of christianity, that which virtually every tried'n'true christian wears around his/her neck, that of the cross, the crucifix, the dead christ?

Because death is inescapable? In the very near future, that may not be the case. But for now, we will accept that premise of people worshipping death because it is inevitable, that is they surrender to it because to try to resist it is ultimate futility and most people don't want to be on the losing side. They approve of death and are proved right when it happens.

It's for this same reason people fall for christianity and American military operations, no matter how unjust they might seem, because they don't want to be seen as on the 'wrong side.'

This is the symbol of the crucifix operating on multiple levels of symbolic meaning simultaneously. Besides demonstrating its hatred of life, the crucifix also symbolizes the sacrifice that christ underwent for the sins of huamity, and the sacrifice each christian is expected to undergo in order to prove one’s faith is sincere.

Just as christ “sacrificed” for every living person by being beaten, nailed to the cross and finally dying, so too is each christian required to sacrifice her/his life. This is done by denying her/himself pleasures, intellectual freedom, and even spare time (christians must spend what would otherwise be free time going to church, praying, reading scripture, and if one is a born-again, free time must be spent converting others to the faith, so that they too, can begin to sacrifice).

By committing the christian to sacrifice his/her life to christ, christianity controls the actual life via its inherent hatred of life—by convincing the christian that the afterlife should be the focus of his/her life.Life is everything christianity is not—the focus of christianity is death. If the reader comes away with nothing else in this book, then it was worth the trouble of writing and publishing it.Christianity resents life and seeks to undermine it as often as possible.Christ’s life (which may or may not have any value), pales in comparison to christ’s death.

In death is where the promise of christianity exists—or rather, doesn’t exist.All the things that provide christianity with its power stems from its hatred—or opposition, if you will—of life.

Because life is far from eternal, it is death—or the afterlife—which holds the only promise of extending one’s existence. The end of one’s existence—everything going black for an eternal cold rest--is a scary thought, and naturally, the mind entertains the possibility, that somehow, some way, he/she will live on in another form, that his/her consciousness and awareness will continue to function. (EDIT: May have to transfer this to the essay on christianity & psychology).

Just as christianity replaces life with death, it replaces the engine of man’s life, the mind, with the fictional “soul.”Christianity robs one of her/his mortality by asserting that she/he has an immortal soul.The soul magically lives on, even after physical death and brain cessation. Even though there’s not a sliver of evidence for the actual existence of any kind of soul, it’s been held in higher esteem than the mind pretty much throughout human history.

Because it exists only in the abstract, the soul is “perfect,” for the simple reason that because it does not exist in 3-dimensional reality, it is therefore is not subject to any sort of testing or observing to discover imperfections. It's akin to discovering imperfections on a talking, three-legged horse.

Unlike the mind, the soul is not subject to confusion and ill use. The soul is the device that is used to establish a tangible connection to god/christ/the afterlife.The soul is superior to the body and mind; it achieves immortality, regardless of whether it gets its ticket punched for heaven or hell.

But it was christianity that wholeheartedly embraced the hatred of life, rendering death as its primary symbol (back to the crucifix). It should be no shock that christianity is the most powerful religion in the history of humankind, because it is the ultimate culmination of what religion, and before it, spiritual concepts have always represented—the hatred of life.

This is as good a time as any to address the notion of “life,” at least in the context of this essay. “Life” isn’t just human existence, i.e., the state of being “not dead,” but also the quality of a given life.

Whether that life is led independently--or in servitude of this or that faith. Whether a life is high quality (freedom) or low quality (servitude).

Simultaneous to christianity representing a literal hatred of life (existence), it also hates the truly free and independent life—the figurative (high) 'quality of life.'

To mask its hatred of life, christianity employs a shroud. This one's not from Turin, but rather, a shroud of heaven. But, the christian heaven is naught but a fictional realm, devised by men to cajole the masses into accepting the tenents of faith in return for the reward of the eternal bliss of heaven, whether it be filled with fluffy clouds or bright spiritual light.

If posited to the average christian, he/she scoff at the notion that christianity is anti-life. Most would be offended, quite frankly, because christians generally pride themselves on being 'pro-life.'

christians would likely retort that it is islam, with its suicide bombers and plane crashing terrorists that serve as an example of a faith that's 'anti-life.' But most christians are blissfully ignorant to the fact that islam originiated as an amalgam of arab mythology, judaism...and christianity. (Many of the judaic/christian elements were stripped away when islam was subsequently rejected by jews and christians).

And what are those islamic suicide bombers anyway, but…martyrs? And it was not christianity that set the precedent for the glorification of 'martyr-dumb?' In the early years of christianity, martyrs went willingly, trading their life for some sort show of integrity for their faith. If christ could die for their sins, could they in turn refuse to die for christ?

christians, of course, will scoff at the very notion that their faith represents the literal hatred of life, especially in the context of their vehement opposition to abortion. Yet witness their equally vehement opposition to stem cell research, dramatized in the fictional opening of this essay.

Their opposition to life extension in general—as they view cloning, genetic engineering and the like as being an 'affront to a god' christians argue that they are against scientific advancements in life extension (such as stem cell) because it 'was god that created us and it is god that will call for us at the appointed time.'

We can't 'play god' christian say. But haven't they been doing it for 2000 years? Speaking god at the very least.

Just as women’s bodies exist merely as a vessel for pregnancy, all human bodies exist as vessels by which god acts. When god’s done with one of us, up (or down) we go.

The secret is, christianity opposes life extension because christianity requires death in order to exist. When christianity’s cultural grip loosens and life extension becomes a reality, physical immortality will be inevitable, and christianity will have no corner on the “spiritual realm.” Subjects such as metaphysics and spirituality will be the province of quantum theory.

The end of death will signal the end of christianity. The use of christianity as a justification for war is another literal demonstration of the religion’s hatred of life. A religion of love, a religion that loves life, would never endorse war, not even if its own existence were threatened.

Religion isn’t supposed to be some kind of invisible yet all-powerful “nation-state,” it’s supposed to be about turning the other cheek (christianity) and surrendering (islam).

As to the hatred of the quality of life, this is, ironically enough, seen in christianity’s opposition to abortion. Here the faith seeks to diminish the quality of a woman’s life, to reduce her, again, to a pregnancy vessel. Further evidence that these “pro-lifers” are nothing of the sort is that the vast majority of them tend to support the death penalty. It’s all right for the state to kill, but not the individual.(Not that abortion should be regarded as “killing” on any level).

And it is this hatred of life that has and still does impact the culture and the individual in numerous insidious ways, and that is the primary purpose for this essay and this entire book.

If it is accepted that christianity represents the hatred of life, then the obvious question to be both asked and answered is—“Why should christianity be applied to any aspect of life, including one’s one personal, private faith?”

The answer that this essay, and verily, this entire book will provide is, “It shouldn't.”

Additionally, if it can be concluded that christianity equals the hatred of life, then it must be likewise concluded that the opposition to christianity equals the love of life. (Or at the very least, a real strong platonic affection for life).

The hatred of life invariably leads to a examination of the soul.

Understanding the concept of a soul is crucial in penetrating the contradictions and fallacies of christianity because so much of the religion is based on the premise that each individual person has a soul that 'lives on' after the host body has expired.

Indeed, was it not the soul christ was saving with his sacrifice, as opposed to the mere human body?

So, what is soul?Soul is a popular form of African-American music.

It seems the biggest proponents of a soul don't really understand the true nature of a soul, if such a thing even exists.

For instance, there is the psuedoscientific claim that a human soul 'weighs' 21 grams. This is based on a dubiousIt is logically impossible for the soul to have any 'weight' as by its very nature of surviving the death of the host body, it cannot be part of physical reality, and therefore would not have a microgram of weight, let alone attain a mass of 21 grams.

If there is a soul, and it derived from some sort of 'spiritual reality,' measuring constructs such as 'mass' would not and could not apply, as a soul is obviously not governed by the laws of nature (the body dies, but the soul lives on).

Legitimate discussion of the 'soul' and such metaphysical maters are better left as the province of quantum theory.

The notion of a 'soul' has existed in one form or another ever since the dawn of the first known civilization, Sumer (now Southern Iraq). But in Sumer, the afterlife was a grim place, it did not offer a false promise of eternal salvation. That would come later.Judeo-christianity was influenced by many mythologies that preceeded it, but the top three have to be Zoroastrianism, Ancient Egypt and Mithraism.

Zoroastrianism was the first monotheistic religion to be unleashed onto the masses, and was the first to introduce the concept of the spiritual afterlife to the masses, as depicted in the second fictional section of this essay (blue text).

Ancient Egypt was the culture that venerated the afterlife like none before had even considered. It was from their mythology that the concept of a god's resurrection was first promulgated, as depicted in the first fictional section (red text).

There was a brief historical pause for a serving of sanity in Ancient Greece, where mythology served more of a cultural/psycho-social function than for any traditional religious poltical purposes. Likewise, life became the focus of life, not the afterlife/death.

But with the rise of the comparatively philosophically hollow ancient Rome, the hatred of life began to rear its ugly head once again, exemplified in such mystery religions as Mithraism.

The similarities between Mithraism and christianity are too numerous to ignore, and will be detailed in a later essay. [EDIT NOTE: I think it will be detailed in a later essay. The validity of Mithraism predating christianity has to be researched. My suspicion ] Suffice it to say, Mithraism brought back the emphasis on life/death/resurrection deification.

And then, regardless if christ really did die, escaped to France and had babies and was the basis for a secret society or never truly existed, christianity came on to the scene, subtly at first, but then gained a complete toehold on Western culture. The hatred of life was triumphant. It's hardly a coincidence that the Dark Ages followed.

The primary concern of this essay, in context of the entire book is: Will the hatred of life emerge triumphant once again? Is that where our cuture is headed, what with the religious revival in America of the new millenium?

Nobody's being naive about it, however--the hatred of life never completely went away; we still live in a culture that values death, instead of seeking to transcend it in every manner possible (through the science of life extension, by seeking a nonviolent path as an approach to personal life, opposing militarism, etc.).

These days, it's a softer, kinder, gentle christianity, not the fire and brimstone of old that warned of eternities spent in hell should god/christ be disobeyed.

christianity has resorted to modifying itself thusly due to the general climate of the culture remains one that is secular, however corporate. But I fear there are forces lurking that seek to restore the rule of religion, to reestablish the hatred of life as it was before. That is the ultimate implication of the hatred of life, and it manifests itself in so many fashions.

The christian hatred of life loomed large in the islamic wars.

It's found in a small town with smaller minded folks who won't let two men or two women live together

It's found in the private chambers of a priest when he sexually abuses an altar boy.

It's found in the whispered mentions of 'theocracy'--religious rule in America--where most freedoms once taken for granted and the quality of life in general will be greatl diminished.

Its ultimate manifestation is nestled snugly in the apocalyptic theology of holy rollers like the Crusaders. This is where the hatred of life is actively encouraged, for it is only with the fiery destruction of earth (the 'endtimes') that will result in their lord and savior returning for the second and final time.

Some readers might think the author of this work is opposed to a spiritual existence following death, and nothing could be further from the truth. While the prospect of retaining one's consciousness and memories beyond the termination of brain functions seems dubious at best, this author has no objectios to such an unlikely occurence taking place.

A philosophy known as transhumanism, that postulates a time when extremely advanced technology will facilitate human beings transcending their physical limitations of flesh and existence in a multi-dimensional quantum state that will approximate--if not surpass--a 'spiritital existence' such as is spoke of in christian texts.

The above is a life-affirming alternative to the hatred of life. It may not be everyone's choice, but it's an option other than christianity's cold finality.

Thus, one not need to die to achieve a legitimate 'spiritual existence.' Taking the death out of life is the province of science. Taking the death out of death is my expertise.

When removing the death from death spreads far beyond me and these pages, then christianity--and the hatred of life--will be rendered obsolete.

Until that time, it is a skirmish day in and day out against death, and the forces that manipulate the hatred of life.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Entry XV--Perfecting the Hatred of Life

BEFORE THE TIME OF HUMANITY...

The bountiful food and intoxicating drink flowed among the guests at Osiris' court. The king of the gods was pleased that all his guest were enjoying themselves at his banquet. Yes, even his treacherous brother Set, who was perpetually plotting against him.


Isis, the queen and Osiris' wife, never trusted her brother-in-law for a moment.

And with good reason, for even this day of celebration witnessed no pause in the sun god's treachery...

Set was seated at the table, going on and on about this incredible coffin he had received as a gift. He said he had never seen such quality of craftsmanship.

Soon, his boasting was not enough and several guests persuaded Set to have the coffin brought before them.

Set gladly obliged, as this was all part of his plan...

SOME 2,500 YEARS AGO, THE ACHAEMENID EMPIRE

The sun blazed over the Persian dawn.

The Zoroastrian holy man emerged from his tent after an intense night of worship.

Hundreds of curious Persians gathered around his dwelling, cautiously awaiting his words....


A FEW YEARS AGO, ST. AMBROSE CHURCH, CHICAGO, IL


The boy, Roger, approached the massive doors of St. Ambrose's Chuch, with a mix of apprehension and excitement, ignoring the chill in the early January air.


He was never here alone and when the church was empty before in his short life. St. Ambrose's Elementary School was on Christmas vacation and the church is relatively quiet during this time outside of scheduled masses.

He found the door on the right to be open, just as Father Peters had promised it would be.

With all his effort, the smaller framed boy pulled open the door and entered the church.

Made his way past the seemingly endless rows of pews (like everything else when one is a child, a church like St. Ambrose's seemed bigger than it really was), the boy to the front, parallel to where the balconies end.

And where the angular Father Peters was waiting for him.

"Hello, Roger, I hope you've been looking forward to this private meeting as much as I have."

"Yes, Father Peters, I have."

Though what Roger wasn't telling the good father, was that he was nervous about the two of them being caught doing this...

Set, the scheming god of the wind and the desert, had his servants bring the coffin to the banquet hall, and it soon was--perhaps a bit too quickly.

And the coffin was indeed impressive, constructed of the finest wood and painted beautifully.

And then, the usually selfish Set was overcome by a wave of generosity. He told the partygoers that he would give the coffin to whomever fit precisely in its dimensions.

Naturally, the great king Osiris was given the first opportunity to lie in the coffin.

Isis wanted to cry out for her husband to reconsider, but she did not want to spoil the festive mood with her personal prejudices.

But moments later, Isis regrets her hesitancy; as Osiris lies into the coffin in which he fits perfectly (because Set had already deceptively obtained the king's measurements as part of this plot), Set signalled for half of his worshippers to nail the coffin shut and for the other half to hold back the rest of the guests before they could rush to Osiris' defense.

The scheme worked, and Osiris was imprisoned in the coffin.

Despite the mighty god's forceful attempts to free himself, the coffin lid would not budge and he was imprisoned helplessly.

With a wave of Osiris' hand, his followers carry the coffin out of the banquet hall...


The holy man made sweeping gestures with his arms, to quiet the ever-growing crowd.

"You should all take heed to the revelation I am about to impart. I have received a vision from our one lord, Ahura Mazda. And he has brought me some portentous news!




"I speak of something that the founder of our faith, the legendary Zoroaster, only hinted at in the Gathas section of our sacred text, the Avesta .

"Each and every one of you is capable of...spiritual salvation. It is no longer merely the province of the king and the priest. Your existence indeed will go on after death. On the fourth day after the death of the physical body, the soul departs it. From this day forward, all rituals pertaining to death will be concerned with the salvation of the soul, not the body."

With that, a thunderous roar swept over the crowd with the promise of spiritual salvation for all!


He sensed the lad's trepidation and sought to reassure him, "I understand you might be nervous about this, son, but it will be beneficial for you in the long run."

Roger nodded his head slowly in silent acknowledgement.

Then, and this is the part Roger never forgot, Father Peters leaned forward, and said, "One thing Roger, this, what we're doing here, it has to remain a secret between just you and I."

Father Peters looked Roger deep in the eye, as deep as he can ever remember being looked in the eyes, and the Father said, "Some people might get the wrong idea about what we're doing. Do you understand, Roger?"

Father Peters put his arm around Roger's shoulder, for an added measure of reassurance.

Roger looked down, but just for a moment, then quickly elevated his chin to the level where his eyes met Father Peters: "Yes, I understand, Father."

Father Peters unfurled an even broader smile, once wrought with expectations, and exclaimed, "Well, then, there's nothing keeping us from getting started!"


And down to the banks of the River Nile, where the crypt was promptly dumped per Set's instructions.

The grieving Isis overcame her sorrow and emarked on a desperate search for the coffin that held her beloved.

Back at the place, Set saw fit to take over the suddenly empty throne.

After a few miles down the banks, Isis spotted what looked to be a piece of Osiris' royal garments. With a mix of worry and hope, the goddess rushed on ahead.

Tragically, she found that the coffin had been smashed during its haphazard sojourn down the rushing river...

And a hundred yards down, her eyes were saddened the lifeless form of Osiris was floating down the river.

Dispensing all personal safety, Isis entered the waters to retrieve the body of her husband. She took a deep look into those eyes of his that once shown so brightly and could not bare to see them as extinguished. She closed them forever gently with her palm.

Knowing that the evil Set was now in power, Isis had to regard herself as a renegade, not a queen, and promptly hid it in a marsh, behind a thick gathering of reeds.

As if to balance out the thunderous enthusiasm of the swelling masses, Zoroaster issued his next words as a solemn caveat, "But your spirit may also be condemned to damnation in the next life! And to be damned is to dwell where the demons dwell.

"To be damned is to inhabit a place of eternal darkness, with no hope of seeing the light until the day comes when all evil is finally defeated. And know, that day when good triumphs absolutely will come, but before it does, your soul will serve an interminable prison sentence a thousand times over."

And the vast majority of people shuddered in fear at that prospect. Those who did not were either not bright enough to comprehend the concept of a spiritual afterlife or were cynics waiting around to hear if the salvation is really any better than the eternal prison sentence.

Father Peters took Roger by the hand and lead him a few feet in front of the wall underneath the balcony. There he directed Roger’s attention to the first plaque above their heads. It was the first of the Stations of the Cross, the image of Christ being pointed at by Pontius Pilate, symbolizing Christ being put to death by the Roman governor.

With a calculated measure of pride in his tone, Father Peters said, “You know, Roger, a lot of people don’t notice the stations like they do other imagery in the church, like the stained glass windows, especially when the sun is shining through them, or the massive crucifix behind the altar, but the stations of the cross truly depict the events that form the foundation of our religion.”

“Is that right, Father?” Roger asked all wide-eyed and curious.

“Why yes of course, christ’s sacrifice to save all of us from our sins.”

“How did christ dying do that, father?”

Father Peters paused, glancing about the room, as if maybe something in the church he would lay his eyes upon would provide the answer: “That cannot be explained in the course of one afternoon I’m afraid, my son.”

Why did Roger get the impression that Father Peters really didn’t know, or at least, he couldn’t explain it very well?

“Let us instead focus on what happened that day, beginning with the first station---christ being condemned to death.”

Another question comes to “So, even though christ was put to death, and that was, uh, a terrible thing, but it was kinda necessary, right?”

“Yes, it was all part of God’s plan, Roger.” The father felt more comfortable handling that one.

“Now, let’s take a look at the next station, shall we?”

Roger, already captivated by the imagery, not to mention receiving a free personal guided tour of the Stations of the Cross, gleefully skips over to stand under the next station, having to hold back his energy, he doesn’t want to spazz out in front of the Father.


But Set had spies everywhere in his new kingdom and it was just a matter of time before he was informed that Isis had retrieved his enemy's body.

When Set was told by one of his select operatives the location of Osiris' hidden body, he personally went to seize the body....

But upon arriving at the marsh and discovering the deity's corpse, he was so overcome by his all-consuming rage for his brother that he furiously ripped the body into shreds...14 pieces to be exact.

Isis was beyond distraught at this further degradation to her husband's godly form. Driven by a will stronger than her own, Isis waded through the Nile to retrieve all 14 pieces. She managed to evade Set and his army of spies and sucessfully bandaged the remnants of Osiris back together--and in doing so, created the first mummy, long before the Egyptian people adopted this practice. The restoration of Osiris' body also ensured a proper, dignified burial for the former king of the gods.


Zoroaster took to elucidate his flock, “Ahura Mazda is the beginning and the end. Ahura Mazda is the uncreated Creator of all things material and spiritual.

“And as the creator of the material, Ahura Mazda has declared that all physical creation runs according to His master plan. Any violation to the order Ahura Mazda has established is a violation of Ahura Mazda himself!”

“And all such violations will be punished by our Lord and Creator, during the time of personal judgment. And I have already informed you as to the severity of that punishment!


"Why are their 14 stations, Father?"

Father Peters hesitates before answering, “A Pope in the 1700’s decided it would be that number, because various numbers of stations were used by Christians throughout the years.

Once again, it seemed like the father was unsure of the very words he spoke

But Roger couldn’t focus on that, as Father Peters had already moved on to the second station, in which the crucifix is given to christ.

“This is as important as any the early stations, for this is where the most powerful image of our religion comes into the story, the crucifix that Christ will die on, the act that proved God's eternal love for all of mankind. That he would give up his only begotten son to save everybody's immortal soul."

Roger’s confused, why did Father Peters say ‘story?’ Isn’t a story something that is made up?
But Roger promised himself he wasn’t going to ruin this with all his questions, so he put all doubt out of his head and just listened to the priest.

The other gods were so impressed by Isis' devotion that they convened to use their great powers to restore Osiris to another form of existence--as the lord of the underworld.

Osiris appeared before his faithful wife Isis in his new resurrected form, shining as bright as the sun in all his glory.

With the back of the same hand she once used to close Osiris' eyes in death, Isis had to partially shield her eyes from the brilliance of the born again Osiris, before he descended back into the underworld to rule until the end of time itself.

There was a time when Isis look with sadness at the time of her demise, but in seeing the transformation accorded Osiris, she looked forward to the day when she would achieve eternal existence, not to mention being reunited with her beloved husband.

As the gathering broke up after the high priest was finished presenting the revelation, most people went back to their work. Some went to tell their friends and relatives the good news about eternal salvation, while the less optimistic in the crowd looked to issue warnings.

But one man, standing alone in the space that had been packed with people just minutes earlier, could only wonder if he should kill himself immediately.

After all, hadn't he--and everyone else--been told that there is an eternal life in paradise awaiting them?

He pulled a knife from the inside of his robe and stared down at the blade, reflecting the scorching sun overhead.

But then he put it away, for he was confronted by the paradox that while death would bring him closer to the afterlife, it might not necessarily lead to salvation. For did not Ahura Mazda preach 'good thoughts, good words, good deeds?'

Suicide could hardly be considered a good deed, especially for such a selfish motivation.

Even these thoughts of his weren't good. And that was how he would achieve this 'life everlasting'--by adhering to Zoroastrianism morality. If that's what it took to ensure that he would never truly die, than so be it. From this point forward, his life would be dedicated to living according to the dictates of Ahura Mazda.

It could not hurt, he thought to himself.

And one by one, Father Peters took Roger through the stations, until they reached number twelve--where Christ died on the cross.

Roger felt sad as he looked up at the plaque portraying Jesus' death. He didn't like that such a good man should have had to suffer so much.

Roger felt slightly numb when hitting up the thirteenth and fourteenth stations, the final one depicting Christ being laid in the tomb...

...the tomb he would rise from by Sunday morning.

One question surfaced in Roger that he couldn't refrain from asking: "Father Peters, why is there no fifteenth station showing Christ's resurrection? Isn't that more important"

For the third time, the good father was at an loss for words to adequately explain: "Well, it's...um, just that the stations pertain to the crucifixion--the events of Good Friday. As you well know, the resurrection was on Easter Sunday."

Roger shot a glance back over his shoulder at the twelfth station, then immediately twisted his head to stare long and hard at the life-sized crucifix and received the answer Father Peters couldn't provide:

The death of Christ is the most important thing about Christianity. After all, it's not an image of christ rising gloriously from the cave-tomb, surrounded by trumpeting angels--it's the dead Christ, hanging hopeless, helplessly from the crucifix.

And as much as christ is remembered for rising from the dead, he's first remembered for dying.

Roger, being a bit of an optimist, despite his questioning nature, always focused on the resurrection. But the resurrection wasn't in the stations of the cross, and the resurrection wasn't hanging behind the altar.

It was the first time Roger felt himself disturbed by the crucifix.

But he wasn't about to forsake it (not at this age, anyway).


On the contrary, that afternoon emboldened Roger's faith in a way it hadn't been previously. He started going to church by himself every Sunday morning, since his family wasn't much interested.

Instead of being so optimistic, Roger became a little more faithful. He kept a close eye on that twelfth station and the crucifix behind the altar. They reminded him he could die, and he didn't want to be a sinner and go to Hell if he should die.

His renewed commitment to Catholicism didn't last, but that clandestine tour by Father Peters seemed to leave an indelible mark of self destruction in the lad, the legacy of his Christian faith.

















Entry XIV--Out of Body (Part 3)

Eyes open slowly...

...but am not blinded at all by the all the light provided by that magnificent chandelier overhead.

Yes, I'm back in Ms. Cabal's library, like I never went anywhere.

And I probably didn't.

Ms. Cabal isn't paying any special attention to me, looking over something in her laptop.

Then she turns to me with an equally casual smile, inquiring, "Did you enjoy your tea, Darwin?"

(Want to say, "Other than the fact it made me either pass out, hallucinate or both, I liked it just fine, Ms. Cabal.")

Instead, I smile back and say blandly, "Yes, thank you, Ms. Cabal."

We're both acting like nothing happened at all, which in her case might be completely appropriate behavior.

Me, on the other hand, well I just might be cracking up.

Ms. Cabal's still on the tea: "It's from China, where they use younger leaves to give it a fresher taste.”

I don't mention that bitter undertaste, if there even was one.

She returns her attention to her laptop, and speaks into a built-in microphone, “Jarvis, please have the driver bring a car around to take Mr. Grimm home. And bring him his coat and a box of that green tea you served to the library.”

Her way of letting me know that the evening is over.

“Am I leaving?”

“Yes, Darwin. Our business is concluded for the evening. I have other matters to attend to, and you, of course, have much writing before you.”

“Yes, Ms. Cabal.”

She doesn’t know how right she is—itching to get in front of my monitor.

Or does she know…?

Who gives a shit?

All that matters is the book.

Moments later, Jarvis enters, bearing my jacket, a box of green tea and an update: "Mr. Grimm's car is waiting for him, Ms. Cabal."

"Very good, Jarvis."

He hands me my coat and the tea with a professional smile. Course, if this tea does to me every night what it did to me tonight, won't plan on getting much work done.

Rise from my seat, taking one last look at Ms. Cabal, finishing her wine, watching her lips on the edge of the glass, as the liquid grape descends down her slender throat.

As if to demonstrate that she knows I'm watching her, her eyes turn upward, still enslaving me even from that angle.

A final reminder that I’m still chained?

She sets the glass down and shakes her head disapprovingly, “Forgetting something, Darwin?”

Ah shit, what'd I do--or not do--now?

Follow her eyes to the laptop that was set before me, and then remember—the CD!

Immediately pop the disk out of the drive and slip it into my coat.

Offer worthless words: “Sorry, Ms. Cabal.”

Her response sounds like she's still questioning my commitment to this endeavor: “The next draft I read from you, I expect you to put my notes to good use.”

“Yes, Ms. Cabal.”

Might as well called her “Mistress” then, she's as domineering here as she ever has been in my…dreams.

Look back at her once last time as I slip on my jacket, but she's done with me, fixated with whatever's on her laptop.

But again, that’s cool, I don’t want to stay anyway.

Well, I’d stay to fuck her, or even eat out her box, but that’s not going to happen.

At least, not yet.

That’s why part of me is hoping that whole dugeon scene was real, because she gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe one day, I can taste her.

Mouth waters at merely the prospect.

But it’s all just fantasy.

Or is it…?

Feel a slight twinge of pain in my wrist, like it would feel if it had been restrained for a prolonged period of time.

Roll up the left sleeve, but there’s no mark anywhere on the skin.

Decide to just leave that an unsolvable mystery.

Head is swimming with ideas for the book.

Only question is, which one do I tackle first?

Thinking of delving into my past, as if to exorcise the demons from my youth that presented themselves front and center to me when I was out of body earlier this evening.

Receiving a strong image of my catholick school years, and that is where I was indoctrinated into christianity. Before then, it was all pretty vague to me. I was into xmas for the whole Santa booty thing.

Wouldn't hurt to start with that, maybe it'll trigger a waterfall of writing pouring from me.

Just as I step outside, the car summoned for me arrives and Jarvis holds open the door, I thank him and slip into the car, which promptly speeds off, driven a man of some sort of Eastern European descent.

As we go up and down hills towards my home,