just watched the play “Next Fall”
the Episcopal Bishop, Gene Robinson, was there for a talk-back
what luck
the arguments between the born-again-ish-evangelist and the athiest-evangelist lovers were tiring
so much re-treading matters un-communicable
but what was well illustrated made me so grateful I don’t ever have to have those conversations anymore
in the talk-back afterwards, the actress playing Holly spoke of her respect for someone who fought against their upbringing and came out a better person (relative term, I know)
I was so angry at Christianity as a child:
it didn’t help
it wasn’t true
it didn’t make anything better
and just like everything else
it excluded me and confirmed I was unloved
of course I hated God
of course I killed God
and wanted to kill all gods
the god in the hearts of anyone who believed in one
all those gods that hated me
being an Athiest was so horrible
that kind of Athiest
the kind that believes in nothing but the truth that Chaos exists
discounting all the order
believing in nothing but meat and shit
a short life of pointless suffering
with such anger at the people who had their Faith
it started at puberty
the backlash against all the people that failed to love me as a child
Then, a scant years later, with the teacher I seduced, he being a virgin at my age now… a baptist born again
slamming me down on the wrestling matts
cracking my ribs as he punched my chest
and crushed himself into me
giving me physical pain over my heart
where before it was intangible
desperately wishing he could push hard enough to break through my body
get inside me
fill me with love
his faith
all I got was his guilt and shame
it was fun
anyway
hanging off the brink of living as I was
it was something
it was years later
days and nights of Acid
Mushrooms
lost in the desert
losing my friends
their faces eternal
their hands outstretched
nodding
giving up
leaving this unloving god alone in the desert
leaving me alone with god
face to face
no one else in the room
eternity
to fight it out
it was in a forest in Oregon
mushrooms
the womb of Mother Earth
the hot springs that washed me out
taught me the “magic of Jesus”
that let me die
forget about all that lack-love
floating free
it took traveling to Brazil with my mother
some crazy spiritual healer she thought was an avatar of Jesus
so I could hear God say “I don’t care if you believe in me or not, I Love You Anyway”
it took years of Yoga too
it took having a lover who was an Episcopal Priest
who loved me through all my bullshit
not in the way a woman loves a man
but the way a man loves a man
a man who gave himself two masses a day
who I saw have an intimate relationship with a God and His Son that I didn’t believe in
but saw through his love
to be the God I found in the desert
in Yoga
in the Forest
in Zikir
in the eyes and words of anyone else I’d ever met with a faith based in Love
to understand that Christanity means to talk about that same God
often forgetting
getting so caught up in the games of High School
of War
of Country Club members and executives
the games of the Elietists of any sect
who need so to be included
who doubt so much their own ability to love and be loved
that they resort to hate
in any of its form
to secure their illusitory superiority
to discount any doubt anyone else ever makes them feel
I really wanted to give the bishop a hug
but of course
I want to give everyone a hug
the play is pretty well done
infuriating as any misunderstanding about something so instrinsic is
but very funny and human
highly recommended
if you’re into experiencing witnessing that sort of transformation
.iP
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