For Christ’s Sake

Overheard at a Thai restaurant: “I’m not religious, but I am spiritual.”

I get that, I thought. Then I wondered at the difference.

According to my ancient Webster’s dictionary, the adjective religious is defined as: “1. one that believes in or supports a religion; devout; pious; 2. of or concerned with religion (eg., religious books); 3. belonging to a community of monks, nuns, etc; 4. conscientiously exact; scrupulous.”

The adjective spiritual is defined as: “1. of the spirit or soul as distinguished from the body or material matters; 2. of or consisting of spirit; not corporeal; 3. refined in thought or feeling; 4. of religion or the church; sacred; devotional etc. 5. spiritualistic or supernatural.”

Interesting. The word “spiritual” does not appear in the definition of “religious”, and the word “religion” only appears in one of five possibilities under “spiritual”.

I recently learned that the religion into which I was baptized at the age of eighteen is not accepted as a Christian religion by other Christian religions. This is alternately hilarious and disturbing. It doesn’t bother me a whole lot, as I’ve been long inactive due to my issues with the church rather than with anything Jesus taught, but when I do think about it, I am a little annoyed. No matter what other Christians think, I took my baptismal vows to confirm my faith in the teachings and divine mission of Jesus Christ ... so how could I not be considered a Christian? Especially by other Christians?

But you know, I’ve always been a goat among sheep. Even when I was an active churchgoer, I refused to accept that my deeds would be judged by anyone other than God Himself. When my father gently suggested the Almighty might be too busy to manage my exit interview personally, I replied: “I’ll have all Eternity. I can wait.”

I have known many religious people. Few of them are truly happy. They are hard on others and harder on themselves. They keep their gazes down rather than their gazes up, as if fearing to meet the eye of God—and given the god presented in the Bible, I can’t say I blame them. The Old Testament God is not a nice guy. In fact, in human form, he’d probably have had his children removed by social workers until he completed a course in anger management and could prove himself a worthy parent. Seriously. Love born from fear is not love at all. Even we ignorant mortals know that, so Dad Above shouldn’t be surprised that his kids have abandoned him. They deserve better.

I know a few spiritual people, too. Most of them are happier than the devoutly religious folks, but every soul that is or ever was is here to experience contrast and most of us have as many dark days as we do sunny ones. Jesus was a spiritual person. These days I am less assured of parts of his story than I am in others, but I will not deny he was a light being with an extraordinary connection to his divinity. It’s unfortunate that his darkness was not as well recorded; relating to him as a conflicted human is difficult when he’s only ever portrayed as the solemn master of his mortal state. Of course his death was horrible, but he wasn’t the only one crucified in those days. The Romans practically made a sport of it.

I know, I know—his story is really about the Resurrection.

Or is it? Well, maybe, in that it seems many of his present-day followers strive to be worthy of his sacrifice by behaving in complete opposition to his lessons about loving thy neighbour as thyself and judging not lest ye be judged. Since our sins have already been atoned for, why not transgress with gay abandon knowing he gave us a free pass back to Heaven?

Ironically, I may be more of a Christian now than I was in my churchgoing days. I focus more on what he taught while he was alive than what religion says we won by his death (and even then, it has to be the “right” religion, otherwise it’s “do not pass Go, do not collect $200”). I prefer to trust in his loving way, in his sound sense of his own divinity and his efforts to convince everyone he met that they were just as precious, just as special, just as beloved, just as deserving of blessings, as he was.

As I am.

As you are.

With love,

Me and My Shadow

You again. My old friend. Stealthy and silent, biding your time, waiting patiently for your moment. You’re so good at being unobtrusive that I forget you’re always two steps behind, lurking at my shoulder, skulking by my side. I lose my focus and suddenly you’re right in front of me. If you had a face, you’d be smiling because once in front, you refuse to step aside and let me pass.

Everyone has a dark side. It’s part of the package we bought when we signed the papers on this existence. Call it what you will: shadow self, alter ego, super ego, it’s the human part of our mortal makeup.

And it loves to be miserable. It revels in reminders of how hard life is, and how precarious our position is within this big scary world. Fear is its driving force, and boy does it know how to play the head games required to immobilize you.

I normally choose happiness and love over fear and anxiety, but when life demands to be lived on its own terms, i.e., when the poo hits the propeller, Shadow Ru pounces.

I didn’t even realize she had done so until the day I finally looked up from my feet. There she was, and had been for weeks, fixed solidly in my path.

By then I was so immured in the funk of loss that pulling myself out of it was like pushing the proverbial elephant up the stairs. I’d been crying nonstop since June. Taking tea and tissues into the Ocean Room had become a nightly ritual. From one loss, a list of others had sprung in a dismal domino effect that made the rest of my life look pretty grim. What’s the point, anyway? Can we start again, please? I knew I had to flip my focus to abundance instead of loss, and as soon as I saw Shadow Ru, I understood it was time to put her back in her place. But how to do it?

According to the law of physics, you get back the energy you put out. If you’re operating from the fear-based position of loss, you’ll find yourself losing more, thanks to the generous nature of our obliging Universe. Conversely, if you look for the miracle, you’ll see it—and you honestly don’t have to try that hard.

But Shadow Ru was relentless. “You think that was bad?” she asked. “What about this? And this? Or what if this happens? Wouldn’t it be terrible?”

“Well, yes,” I replied, “but it hasn’t happened.”

“But what if it does? Best be prepared for the worst.”

“Oh, move along!” I burst out, fed up with the negativity.

She refused. Worse, she persisted with her pernicious fearmongering until I thought I’d lose my mind. She wouldn’t let me see past her. She deliberately blocked my view of the good things in my life, of the little miracles and everyday blessings that sustained me through this summer. I was frazzed beyond endurance, trying to elbow past her, when my smarter self—Spirit Ru—calmly made a brilliant suggestion:

If your shadow is in front of you, then the sun is at your back. Just turn around.

Huh. I shoulda had a V-8.

Shadow Ru is still with me, of course, but now she’s back where she belongs: behind me.

With love,

Throw Your Beam

The purpose of life, I have recently heard, is to express yourself through whatever means you have to hand. Be it painting or performing, cooking or quilting, coaching or counseling, playing hockey or playing the tuba, designing gardens or digging graves, it is within every single one of us to be great.

Albert Einstein said that everyone is a genius. He then added, “If a fish is judged by its ability to climb trees, that fish will live its entire life believing that it’s stupid.” That quote struck such a deep chord that my ears are still ringing. Must be because I’ve spent a good chunk of my life believing that I’m stupid.

Not in everything, of course. I’m actually very smart in many areas. I am capable in others, and gosh-darned-excellent in a few. But so are you. And you. And you. Everyone has something unique to offer the world. And the world needs what you have to give. Even if you’re an arch villain, you’re providing the necessary contrast that enables heroes to be heroes. So if you’re a bad guy, be the baddest guy you can be, you miserable sod. Bring out the best in others and make the world a better place.

I might be joking around a bit here, but my meaning is serious. Everyone has something at which they can excel. Find your best and let it rip. Be that little candle. Throw your beam as far as you can fling it. Touch as many people as you can; be a teacher, but be a student as well. Give love, but love yourself, too. After all, the flame burns brightest at the wick. Only then does the rest of the room benefit from its light.

Fun with F***book

It’s finally happened. In my evolving quest for domination of literary cyberspace, I have joined Darth Ter to create an author page for myself on Facebook. It’s still under construction as I write this post, but on the weekend I sold my soul to start an account and the slippery slope is getting, well, slipperier.

Now I’m considering trading my flip phone for a Smartphone.

One should never say “never”. For years, I resisted the lure of social media because good and decent people are daily sucked into the black hole of technology. Bad enough that I spend more time twiddling my thumbs on the taxpayer’s dime when the network goes down at work, or that I have succumbed to the convenience of the Internet at home. It’s horrifying that texting while driving is now illegal as well as just plain stupid, and public service announcements are begging drivers to leave their phones alone. The need for real time uploads in place of genuine social interaction escaped me, nay, compelled me to rebel with all my might against a force that threatens the very fabric of our human connection. I sat at the coffee house the other day, watching a couple sharing a table—and nothing else. They may as well have been strangers, each was so engrossed in the tiny screen clutched in their respective hands. I dunno; maybe they were conversing with each other via FB, but isn’t it more gratifying to hear the other person’s voice and see their eyes while you’re talking?

The A side, however, makes it possible to spend real time with Nicole in Halifax, my older brother in PEI, and anyone else located outside of Victoria. Getting a virtual hug from Nic is as gratifying as a heart to heart hug from Ter, for obvious reasons. And, truth be told, if I want to follow my bliss and be well paid for writing, I must make myself known by whatever means available. Word of mouth is more powerful than a marketing budget, and it costs the author nothing.

My final rationalization for tripping onto the Dark Side is this: social media is merely a tool. It’s as potent or as harmless as the user wants to make it. Again, we only hear of the cyber-bullying, of malicious viruses and hacking of email accounts. Who’s to say this is the norm? I started this blog to send some good energy into cyberspace, and with luck, I can do the same via my FB page.

I may also become a filthy stinking rich celebrity writer from it, and that will be okay, too.

A Declaration of Awareness

While Israel engaged Palestine and pro-Russian rebels shot a passenger jet out of the sky last week, the posts here at the Rebellion were about love, acceptance, finding peace, seeking joy and generally tripping out on the present moment. After hearing about MH17, I almost regretted scheduling those posts. In the space of a few short days, the world became an even darker and grimmer place, and I questioned whether it was appropriate to tout the power of positive energy when people elsewhere live in daily terror of losing something or someone precious. I went to bed on Friday night immensely grateful that I am not among those people. I am safe. I am employed. I have food, shelter, and enough money to live more than comfortably compared to folks trapped in a war zone halfway around the globe. Heck, I’m in better shape than people living in the BC interior, where wildfires have a handful of communities on evacuation alert if not on full evacuation order, so I don’t have to go far to ask myself how naïve am I, really?

Well, I’m not naïve. I’m not oblivious or insensitive, either. I believe what I believe, and a large part of my belief is that humans suffer when other humans make selfish decisions. Wars have raged in distant places for centuries—that doesn’t make it right, but we’re all made more aware of conflict and tragedy by a media that fixates on negative forces in pursuit of ratings. Just as we hear nothing of the countless air flights that land safely, we begin to believe that everyone is a terrorist, that no child is safe, and we’ll all be victims of identity fraud.

I sat out on my porch this morning and listened to the wind in the trees. The ocean was calm. The sun was trying to pierce the clouds and actually succeeding in spots. I watched a beam break through and remembered something. There is good in the world. Good people, brave people, loving people. People trying to cure cancer. People sheltering the homeless. People caring for sick children. People who aren’t aiming rockets at civilian communities or passenger airliners. Most of us are doing the best we can with what we have. Most of us are grateful. The rest of us are wounded and trying to heal ourselves. Yes, it’s horrible out there. Gods know the media is ever so delighted to keep telling us so, and by the same gods, we’re lapping it up like cream, but really, the scales are better balanced than we’re led to believe.

Please don’t be led. Please don’t lose hope. Please be grateful and please be compassionate—and if this seems aimed at you, it’s only my inside voice reminding Ru of what is truly valuable. That would be love, acceptance, finding peace, seeking joy, and generally tripping out on the present moment.

Be aware of the light as well as the dark, for both exist in equal measure.

With love,