Tell me all your thoughts on...
God:
When I was a kid, my aunt took it upon herself to give me some spiritual guidance. And what my liberal too-lazy-for-church Jesus-who? parents didn't realize was just how much spiritual guidance she was instilling in me. See, the woman is... well, she's a nutjob, but for reasons other than her Bible thumping. She's just one of those people who can't really make decisions on her own. Everything in her life has to be based on some sort of method, and more often than not, that method is the Bible. She follows it, well, religiously, never questioning, never disagreeing... unfortunately, she's also the most mathematical-based indivudal who thinks the word metaphor is the Devil's language, and so is quite literal in her beliefs, disagreeing with the whole idea of symbolism or concept. Oh dear. She called me once in hysterics when I was fifteen convinced that she was going to hell because she didn't love thy neighbour. "In fact, I don't even like him! He's forever parking his car on my side of the driveway!". It took me two hours to calm her down, and she never did quite grasp that love thy neighbour does not necessarily mean the guy beside you. Furthermore, she has no empathy. It's not that she doesn't try to have empathy, it's that she just cannot see a situation from anyone's point of view other than her own. It's quite amazing, actually... I think it's like a birth defect or something.
But enough of me using this as an excuse to bitch about my family. Back to God. As I was saying, since I was a kid she's been making me sing songs about fishers of me (which to this day I still don't understand, and if there's somebody out there in livejournal land who would like to explain it to me I'm all ears... or, eyes, I guess) and buying me little plastic animals so I could play Noah's ark. She thought she was doing me good, and so I've finally gotten to the point where I've forgiven her for all that. But then I got a little older, realized that the world wasn't quite so black and white, and started questioning my beliefs.
I'm not going to go into all the ways that I disagree with Christianity/Catholicism, because it's nothing new. How is being gay a crime? What about the scientific fact supporting evolution and the big bang? Why is God so insecure that he needs us to worship him? Why does he care if we take his name in vain? What about those unexposed to Christianity? Why have more people died in his name than for any other cause? What about that people suffer more than Jesus did every day? Etc, etc, etc. And of course, the ultimate big one: How can he let us suffer and claim to love us?
But then, my guilt starts to play up. I'm a very, very, very lucky individual. I come from a stable upper-middle class home. I've never been teased and I have better friends than anyone else I know. I've always been attractive, popular, all my guy friends want to date me (or at least fuck me), I've never experienced tragedy, I've never been told that I cannot do something, I am the product of a happy home and loving laid-back parents. I'm not bragging, I'm being honest. And if there are people a thousand times less fortunate than I am who's faith do not waver, who am I to question that God loves us? What right do I have to yell about him letting us suffer?
My brain says no, says that Christianity is wrong. I'm not denying the idea of a type of god or a universal flow, but my logic simply cannot accept that the Bible is right. However, my heart (for lack of a better term) disagrees, feels guilty for questioning my faith, and fears the wrath of God if my faith does waver. And then I feel even more guilty, for not allowing my faith to waver because of fear. I'm torn. How can I believe something that I don't agree with, don't understand, don't believe? And maybe the challenge is to believe despite all that, but that doesn't make any sense, either. And then you could go as far as to say that maybe that's also part of the challenge, the fact that the concept of the challenge as well as what the challenge is doesn't make any sense, and if that's it... then I guess I fail. Can you still call it faith if it has doubts? Isn't that an oxymoron? But on the other hand, this Christian concept has been ingrained in my head since I was a baby, and no amount of logic can ungrain it. I can't help the guilt, I can't help the fear, and that just produces more guilt and fear. And in the end my mind is on one side and my emotions are on the other, and since both are equally important I cannot compromise, there is no middle way (great, Buddhism, bring another philosophy into this mess! Jeesh). Last night I put on a yin-yang necklace that my parents gave me on my tenth birthday and that I've always loved, which I thought represented my logical concepts of spirituality (universal flow, balance, etc, a whole bunch of other crap that we as stupid humans do not understand) but then I took it off because I felt guilty about worshipping false idols.
The tender age of twenty, my faith has never been tested literally (eg I've never been put in a horrific situation), my parents couldn't care less what I believe in... and yet I cannot make peace with my spiritual side. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I a whiney brat or what?
Guilt of Sadness:
I feel guilty about feeling sad. I know it's not my fault that I feel sad, because we cannot help what we feel, and because I am never sad because of situations or events (I am simply sad for no reason, the way lucky people are simply happy). But I have no right to be sad, there's nothing to be sad about. Who am I to be sad? I should be ecstatic, I should feel like I'm on e all the time (minus the grinding teeth and the constant glowstick twirling). People would spit on me if they knew I was sad, it would make them angrier than anything else.
The worst is when you're sad in front of your parents. Your parents want nothing more than for you to be happy, that's been their life goal since they've had you... I'm speaking to you lucky individuals out there, lucky like me. All my parents want is for me to be happy, and they've done everything in their power to get me there, sacrificed so much without a second thought. And yet I'm not happy. And it's not their fault, but if their life goal (at least, life goal after the age of thirty nine when they had me, their only child) is to make me happy and I am not happy, then they've failed. They've failed at their life goal, which is the worst goal to fail at (for obvious reasons). And that makes me sad. And I know how sad it would make them, if they knew. They know sort of, they know some of it, but I hide as much as I can, curled up in my little blue room that eats my soul, writing in my diary. My Mom passes by the doorway and thinks to herself, smiling, "Oh, she's writing about the new cd I bought her or what she did with her friends at the bar last night", but really, I'm writing about how sad I am. Parents protect their kids, but sometimes kids protect their parents, too.
Guilt of Selfishness:
I should devote my life to helping others. I should move to Africa and hand out food and make children laugh and encourage other Canadians to do the same. Every moment of my day, of my life, should be spent making others happy, making them laugh, making them forget how shitty things are for them. But I don't, I'm selfish, I am concerned with my own happiness first. Some say that's human, that's okay, that's nothing to feel guilty for, but I say that's a lame excuse. First of all, anything any person has ever done or is capable of doing is "human"--what they mean is selfishness is normal. But just because it's normal doesn't mean it's right, doesn't mean I shouldn't feel guilty for it. But obviously I don't feel that guilty, because if I did, I'd do something about it.
Guilt of Hurting Others: my friends, my family, taking people for granted, not appreciating the sacrifices made, not saying thank you enough, complaining too much, being lazy and making work for others in compensation, being rude, not bothering to get to know people, cutting people out because I think they are boring, thinking I am better than others, ignoring people who just want to spend time with me, doubting people's intentions, doubting people's love, not liking people as much as they like me, being selfish, doing things that I know are wrong before I do them, disappointing my parents, doing things that my parents don't know about but would disappoint them if they did, gossiping and enjoying it, betraying trust, leading people on because I love to be admired, severely bad thoughts I shouldn't have even if I never express them and they never have a chance to fuck people up (but they're just that bad, and scary), using people, etc.
Lying:
Lying is okay if the lie saves people from getting hurt. Truth is not always the best policy, because how can pain and suffering be best?
Drugs and Bodily Abuse:
It's your body, and you can do what you like with it. Be informed going in, and do it for the right reasons (because you want the experience, not to impress others, for example). It's wrong if it hurts others (so don't get drunk if you're going to kick the crap out of your girlfriend, or if you're going to drive), but we all have the right to hurt ourselves.
Suicide:
(see Drugs and Bodily Abuse)
Abortion:
I would never do it, because I think it's wrong. However, if other people want to do it, that's fine with me, because why should my opinion override others?
Success:
I judge success on how happy you are. Some people, money is what makes them happy, therefore success has a monetary value. For others it's status, for others it's value to the general public, etc, etc. The problem is that we don't always know what will make us happy, and sometimes we're wrong. I think that becoming a novelist and earning enough money that I don't need a second job will make me happy. I could be wrong, because I don't spend all my free time writing, because I haven't written a book yet, becaus sometimes writing leaves me frusterated with myself and disappointed in my talents. But it's the best guess I've got, and if it turns out I'm wrong, then I'll try something else.
Stupid Risks:
...make life worth living, according to Homer Simpson. I agree, granted that you're the only one who's got to lose from it. But then, I'm also hunting for the next big thrill, for something to satisfy me.
Natural Beauty:
Is something I am unable to appreciate, and it frusterates me. I went on a five month backpacking trip (alone) across Australia and New Zealand last November (and returned this April). I saw sights more wonderous than I have ever seen, mountains, glaciers, rivers bluer than the sky itself, rainforests, the outback from the top of Uluru (Ayers' Rock), waterfalls, the Great Barrier Reef, the world as I jumped out of a plane... and yet... I wasn't moved to write an epic poem. I wasn't filled with a sense of awe, of peace, of mystic understanding. I wasn't humbled. I was cold, or sunburned, or hungry, or my feet hurt from hiking. I took a picture because I didn't know what else to do, and walked away unsatisfied, with that frusterated feeling that I've missed something but I'm not too sure what.
Living in the Moment:
I wish I could. But I just can't do it. Every moment is tainted by moments previous, by my own brain. I'm never as happy as I could be, as excited as I could be, even as angry or as heartbroken as I could be. I can never let go completely and just enjoy myself. I can't achieve pureness in any sense, and like natural beauty that I continue to miss, it frusterates me. The worst feeling is nothing at all.
Love:
My idea of love is ultimate. Once you're in love, you stay in love, you don't question your love, that's it. I guess that means I've never been in love, even though I've said it how many times, but that has nothing to do with the other person, it has to do with me. I cannot give myself fully to someone else if I'm so self-centred. I have not "finished" with myself yet, and I cannot give them unfinished work. In lamen's terms, I'm not ready yet, I haven't done enough with my own life yet before I start involving somebody else to such a degree. I had a boyfriend once who loved me, because he could live in the moment and feel pure emotions, and for those moments he could love me, and I was jealous of that, and I hurt him, and it... well, it sucked, to say the least. But I cannot love people for moments, because I cannot live in the moments. If I'm going to be in love with someone, I'm going to marry them, tattoo a wedding ring on, and live the rest of my life in love with them. Or so I hope, at least. It's a romantic idea, isn't it? Let's see if it gets destroyed...
When I was a kid, my aunt took it upon herself to give me some spiritual guidance. And what my liberal too-lazy-for-church Jesus-who? parents didn't realize was just how much spiritual guidance she was instilling in me. See, the woman is... well, she's a nutjob, but for reasons other than her Bible thumping. She's just one of those people who can't really make decisions on her own. Everything in her life has to be based on some sort of method, and more often than not, that method is the Bible. She follows it, well, religiously, never questioning, never disagreeing... unfortunately, she's also the most mathematical-based indivudal who thinks the word metaphor is the Devil's language, and so is quite literal in her beliefs, disagreeing with the whole idea of symbolism or concept. Oh dear. She called me once in hysterics when I was fifteen convinced that she was going to hell because she didn't love thy neighbour. "In fact, I don't even like him! He's forever parking his car on my side of the driveway!". It took me two hours to calm her down, and she never did quite grasp that love thy neighbour does not necessarily mean the guy beside you. Furthermore, she has no empathy. It's not that she doesn't try to have empathy, it's that she just cannot see a situation from anyone's point of view other than her own. It's quite amazing, actually... I think it's like a birth defect or something.
But enough of me using this as an excuse to bitch about my family. Back to God. As I was saying, since I was a kid she's been making me sing songs about fishers of me (which to this day I still don't understand, and if there's somebody out there in livejournal land who would like to explain it to me I'm all ears... or, eyes, I guess) and buying me little plastic animals so I could play Noah's ark. She thought she was doing me good, and so I've finally gotten to the point where I've forgiven her for all that. But then I got a little older, realized that the world wasn't quite so black and white, and started questioning my beliefs.
I'm not going to go into all the ways that I disagree with Christianity/Catholicism, because it's nothing new. How is being gay a crime? What about the scientific fact supporting evolution and the big bang? Why is God so insecure that he needs us to worship him? Why does he care if we take his name in vain? What about those unexposed to Christianity? Why have more people died in his name than for any other cause? What about that people suffer more than Jesus did every day? Etc, etc, etc. And of course, the ultimate big one: How can he let us suffer and claim to love us?
But then, my guilt starts to play up. I'm a very, very, very lucky individual. I come from a stable upper-middle class home. I've never been teased and I have better friends than anyone else I know. I've always been attractive, popular, all my guy friends want to date me (or at least fuck me), I've never experienced tragedy, I've never been told that I cannot do something, I am the product of a happy home and loving laid-back parents. I'm not bragging, I'm being honest. And if there are people a thousand times less fortunate than I am who's faith do not waver, who am I to question that God loves us? What right do I have to yell about him letting us suffer?
My brain says no, says that Christianity is wrong. I'm not denying the idea of a type of god or a universal flow, but my logic simply cannot accept that the Bible is right. However, my heart (for lack of a better term) disagrees, feels guilty for questioning my faith, and fears the wrath of God if my faith does waver. And then I feel even more guilty, for not allowing my faith to waver because of fear. I'm torn. How can I believe something that I don't agree with, don't understand, don't believe? And maybe the challenge is to believe despite all that, but that doesn't make any sense, either. And then you could go as far as to say that maybe that's also part of the challenge, the fact that the concept of the challenge as well as what the challenge is doesn't make any sense, and if that's it... then I guess I fail. Can you still call it faith if it has doubts? Isn't that an oxymoron? But on the other hand, this Christian concept has been ingrained in my head since I was a baby, and no amount of logic can ungrain it. I can't help the guilt, I can't help the fear, and that just produces more guilt and fear. And in the end my mind is on one side and my emotions are on the other, and since both are equally important I cannot compromise, there is no middle way (great, Buddhism, bring another philosophy into this mess! Jeesh). Last night I put on a yin-yang necklace that my parents gave me on my tenth birthday and that I've always loved, which I thought represented my logical concepts of spirituality (universal flow, balance, etc, a whole bunch of other crap that we as stupid humans do not understand) but then I took it off because I felt guilty about worshipping false idols.
The tender age of twenty, my faith has never been tested literally (eg I've never been put in a horrific situation), my parents couldn't care less what I believe in... and yet I cannot make peace with my spiritual side. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I a whiney brat or what?
Guilt of Sadness:
I feel guilty about feeling sad. I know it's not my fault that I feel sad, because we cannot help what we feel, and because I am never sad because of situations or events (I am simply sad for no reason, the way lucky people are simply happy). But I have no right to be sad, there's nothing to be sad about. Who am I to be sad? I should be ecstatic, I should feel like I'm on e all the time (minus the grinding teeth and the constant glowstick twirling). People would spit on me if they knew I was sad, it would make them angrier than anything else.
The worst is when you're sad in front of your parents. Your parents want nothing more than for you to be happy, that's been their life goal since they've had you... I'm speaking to you lucky individuals out there, lucky like me. All my parents want is for me to be happy, and they've done everything in their power to get me there, sacrificed so much without a second thought. And yet I'm not happy. And it's not their fault, but if their life goal (at least, life goal after the age of thirty nine when they had me, their only child) is to make me happy and I am not happy, then they've failed. They've failed at their life goal, which is the worst goal to fail at (for obvious reasons). And that makes me sad. And I know how sad it would make them, if they knew. They know sort of, they know some of it, but I hide as much as I can, curled up in my little blue room that eats my soul, writing in my diary. My Mom passes by the doorway and thinks to herself, smiling, "Oh, she's writing about the new cd I bought her or what she did with her friends at the bar last night", but really, I'm writing about how sad I am. Parents protect their kids, but sometimes kids protect their parents, too.
Guilt of Selfishness:
I should devote my life to helping others. I should move to Africa and hand out food and make children laugh and encourage other Canadians to do the same. Every moment of my day, of my life, should be spent making others happy, making them laugh, making them forget how shitty things are for them. But I don't, I'm selfish, I am concerned with my own happiness first. Some say that's human, that's okay, that's nothing to feel guilty for, but I say that's a lame excuse. First of all, anything any person has ever done or is capable of doing is "human"--what they mean is selfishness is normal. But just because it's normal doesn't mean it's right, doesn't mean I shouldn't feel guilty for it. But obviously I don't feel that guilty, because if I did, I'd do something about it.
Guilt of Hurting Others: my friends, my family, taking people for granted, not appreciating the sacrifices made, not saying thank you enough, complaining too much, being lazy and making work for others in compensation, being rude, not bothering to get to know people, cutting people out because I think they are boring, thinking I am better than others, ignoring people who just want to spend time with me, doubting people's intentions, doubting people's love, not liking people as much as they like me, being selfish, doing things that I know are wrong before I do them, disappointing my parents, doing things that my parents don't know about but would disappoint them if they did, gossiping and enjoying it, betraying trust, leading people on because I love to be admired, severely bad thoughts I shouldn't have even if I never express them and they never have a chance to fuck people up (but they're just that bad, and scary), using people, etc.
Lying:
Lying is okay if the lie saves people from getting hurt. Truth is not always the best policy, because how can pain and suffering be best?
Drugs and Bodily Abuse:
It's your body, and you can do what you like with it. Be informed going in, and do it for the right reasons (because you want the experience, not to impress others, for example). It's wrong if it hurts others (so don't get drunk if you're going to kick the crap out of your girlfriend, or if you're going to drive), but we all have the right to hurt ourselves.
Suicide:
(see Drugs and Bodily Abuse)
Abortion:
I would never do it, because I think it's wrong. However, if other people want to do it, that's fine with me, because why should my opinion override others?
Success:
I judge success on how happy you are. Some people, money is what makes them happy, therefore success has a monetary value. For others it's status, for others it's value to the general public, etc, etc. The problem is that we don't always know what will make us happy, and sometimes we're wrong. I think that becoming a novelist and earning enough money that I don't need a second job will make me happy. I could be wrong, because I don't spend all my free time writing, because I haven't written a book yet, becaus sometimes writing leaves me frusterated with myself and disappointed in my talents. But it's the best guess I've got, and if it turns out I'm wrong, then I'll try something else.
Stupid Risks:
...make life worth living, according to Homer Simpson. I agree, granted that you're the only one who's got to lose from it. But then, I'm also hunting for the next big thrill, for something to satisfy me.
Natural Beauty:
Is something I am unable to appreciate, and it frusterates me. I went on a five month backpacking trip (alone) across Australia and New Zealand last November (and returned this April). I saw sights more wonderous than I have ever seen, mountains, glaciers, rivers bluer than the sky itself, rainforests, the outback from the top of Uluru (Ayers' Rock), waterfalls, the Great Barrier Reef, the world as I jumped out of a plane... and yet... I wasn't moved to write an epic poem. I wasn't filled with a sense of awe, of peace, of mystic understanding. I wasn't humbled. I was cold, or sunburned, or hungry, or my feet hurt from hiking. I took a picture because I didn't know what else to do, and walked away unsatisfied, with that frusterated feeling that I've missed something but I'm not too sure what.
Living in the Moment:
I wish I could. But I just can't do it. Every moment is tainted by moments previous, by my own brain. I'm never as happy as I could be, as excited as I could be, even as angry or as heartbroken as I could be. I can never let go completely and just enjoy myself. I can't achieve pureness in any sense, and like natural beauty that I continue to miss, it frusterates me. The worst feeling is nothing at all.
Love:
My idea of love is ultimate. Once you're in love, you stay in love, you don't question your love, that's it. I guess that means I've never been in love, even though I've said it how many times, but that has nothing to do with the other person, it has to do with me. I cannot give myself fully to someone else if I'm so self-centred. I have not "finished" with myself yet, and I cannot give them unfinished work. In lamen's terms, I'm not ready yet, I haven't done enough with my own life yet before I start involving somebody else to such a degree. I had a boyfriend once who loved me, because he could live in the moment and feel pure emotions, and for those moments he could love me, and I was jealous of that, and I hurt him, and it... well, it sucked, to say the least. But I cannot love people for moments, because I cannot live in the moments. If I'm going to be in love with someone, I'm going to marry them, tattoo a wedding ring on, and live the rest of my life in love with them. Or so I hope, at least. It's a romantic idea, isn't it? Let's see if it gets destroyed...