Religion

Religion on the radio.
One of my bus drivers likes to listen to talk radio, where the host talks about controversial stories in a rather aggressive way to get callers to call in and argue one way or the other. I find it agitating to listen to so early in the morning, that's when I increase the volume in my headphones and try to block it out. One time a brave passenger even asked him to change the station, but that only worked for one ride. Anyway, today I wasn't in the mood to listen to music and decided to be open minded and listen to this radio station without getting worked up.
The host was arguing that Wiccan is not a real religion. He said some prisons in our state started funding the Wiccan religion because apparently it has a lot of followers. So he was saying that the system is corrupt because we are funding this with our tax money. Then of course a caller called in and talked about being Wiccan and gave a brief history of its core beliefs. The host made fun of reincarnation and said, "Yeah right, why don't you make me come back as a lion" and cut the conversation. I felt frustrated listening to this because I found that disrespectful. I agreed with many of the points the host made, but he made them in a very rude and criticizing way.

This is what I believe. I believe that all religions are based on fictional tales that were written by multiple authors many years ago. I don't take them seriously and I find it strange that so many people in the world follow a certain creed and believe their text to be true. Each religion seems to preach that it is the "true one," and considers all other faiths wrong. In my mind, there is no one true religion. If you follow a specific religion, I think that's fine as long as you don't impose your faith on others and don't attack others for believing in something different. I think all sacred worlds are beautiful in their own way. For example, I appreciate the intricate designs of churches and I like looking at paintings with religious undertones. I see them for the sake of art and ancient history, but to me they are nothing more than that.

The only power I worship is within me. Nothing and no one outside of myself. I respect the decision of others to worship their construction of God. But it really does upset me to hear about and witness the hatred that religions propagate. I think of all the religious groups as clubs. Each club requires you to obey the rules in order to have membership. If you disobey those rules you will be excluded, and every other club is inferior by definition. Each religion seems to teach that they are on the VIP list to heaven, so all religions are always in opposition. I think if you want to join a sect or whatever, you can pay for your membership. Everyone else shouldn't be paying anything to support your faith. It should be voluntary, like making a contribution.

I think if there is a God, he wouldn't create us to suffer. There wouldn't be the notion of sins and punishment, because God would see the good in all human beings and trust them to treat each other with kindness.

I think life is simple. We are born, we live, and we die. Death means we cease to be. I think when I die I will shut down like a computer and get recycled. My remains will be absorbed into the earth like lawn fertilizer. That's why my definition of life is just to be, to experience, to do what makes YOU happy. I want to spend time with people I love, and overcome my insecurities to have the confidence to express myself freely. That's all that really matters. Just to be happy, to share with others, to tell them how I feel,  appreciate and be present in every moment. 

I heard the summer today, from the windows in our living room. A little bird chirping and singing a song with all his might. The green is back and covers the trees in front of our windows, shielding us from the street- the onlookers on the top floors of apartments across the street, though I've never seen anyone watching from the window like I do. Peaking at the lives of others, how they vacuum and throw things across the room, and sit back in their recliners to watch the blue light of the tv dance on the walls.

I know it's easy to get caught up in material possessions, but when I find things I like it makes me really happy. These shoes, with pink laces that matched my pink outfit. I like short boots, and these are perfect for the warm weather. They have a fabric top that feels breathable, with lots of holes on the sides. It feels lovely to feel the breeze on my feet.

I like delicate girly things, the color pink, and using the word "lovely."

My first memory

The woods.
I spend 90% of my time at work- the other 10% sleeping, doing chores, starting at the computer screen, or working at my two other jobs. I arrive to work early each morning, so to pass the time I've started going for walks in the woods. I went walking after the rain, in the intense clean smell of the earth. The water weighed down the pine branches. I walked underneath the trees, sheltered in their shadows. Rain droplets looked like a decorative string of glass beads on a holiday tree. I opened my black umbrella to hide from them, because when they fall they blur my glasses and I find that bothersome. The dark cloud had to follow.

I like those quiet mornings. It occurred to me that being in the woods is my earliest childhood memory. I can still see wheat stalks, towering over me. Summer. The moisture on the ground. Brushing the tall grass strands with my hands, like touching waves. The sound of the wind whistling in the trees, creaking like old bones. Knowing that somewhere deep in the woods, my parents are collecting blueberries. But in the meantime, being completely alone and buried in the vastness of the meadow. Like a rock or a weed growing through the crack in the pavement. Simply being there, just to be there. When I grow old someday, I'll remember this moment. This solitary scene. The beginning. 

I dream of cats

I keep seeing the same ginger kitten in my dreams. It starts with following the sound of a squeaky meow.  I find him in bushes or hiding under a wall of rocks. There are rocks like that near my parents house and chipmunks in between the cracks. I can tell the environment in these dreams comes from that memory, the place where I lived my teenage years.
So I dreamed of that kitten again. He was hiding underneath a big rock. He had a round skull and a tiny body with orange stripes. I sat on the ground and called him, meowing and making a clicking sound, and reaching my hand toward him. Slowly he decided to trust me and approached me. I held him and thought that I can take him home and care for him. But then I heard the meow of another cat. A larger cat with long white fur underneath his chin like a lion. He approached me too and I touched his head and scratched behind his ear. I wanted to take him home too, but I could only have one. It felt so torturous. Not being able to decide. Which cat needs more love and care, the kitten or the lion? They were both gentle, it felt impossible to pick only one.

I think this is a cute dream. It represents my indecisiveness in life. How I feel needy and want a lot, but I have to prioritize and choose.

such is the way of the world

I feel I'm repeating myself a lot these days, hence why I haven't written much here. I need some time to think and let my thoughts sink down, like the residue in tea that settles to the bottom of the cup when you let it stand a while.  I'd like to take a moment and focus on something good, rather than dwelling on all the sadness and frustration. What brought me happiness today?

An email from a friend

The fog in the morning

Seeing a tiny squirrel in the woods, sitting very still on a branch and pretending she can blend in with the bark of the tree like a chameleon.

The creaky noise of the tall trees leaning against each other in the sky.

Closing my eyes on the train ride home and feeling my head sway side to side, that pleasant feeling of allowing myself to be sleepy.

The city street at night. The headlights, the street lights, the people.

The smell of the street, the chilly night, the earth and tree blossoms.

A boy playing guitar on the stoop of an apartment building.

Coming home to my friend, and finding another box of ginger lemon tea.

The feeling of being loved, even though I feel so far away.

Magic

I want some magic in my life. Lately I've been drawn to movies involving magic and special effects. Recently I've seen movies like Tim Burton's Frankenweenie and Alice in Wonderland, Snow White and the Huntsman, Mirror Mirror, Dark Shadows.  

I like to imagine things in my life, to see things in the scenery that aren't really there. Walking in the woods, my steps make the sound of two drums and my hands play the strings. I have an entire orchestra for myself, with ants and bees and the glare of a hawk. The tall trees and their shadows remind me of scenes in Japan's suicide forest, a cold sensation. I see myself walking into that forest, seeing bodies handing like bats on the branches. I walk into that forest, not in search of bodies but of their survivors. The ones waiting out their time, the ones who are not quite sure. I call out their impossible names, and offer my hand. Don't think about dying when there's so much left to rejoice. They're just trees, but they turn like faces with their eyes closed. Why settle for the ordinary?

daydreams

I'm not suffering, but I have dreams when I'm awake. The faces of people come to me and I forget they're not really there. We meet each other on the bus with a smile, and we got for a long walk along the harbor and the salty wind tangles my hair.  We drink hot chocolate in a cafe, under a dim light that concentrates on your forehead. We walk outside and sit on park benches, talking and giving crumbs to pigeons that flock at our feet. We jog in the mornings and I trip on branches and fall, but by the time you turn me over I'm crying from laughing so hard. I go to jazz clubs and sway my hips in the dark, the vibrations of the music thumping in my chest. I dance with men and women and someone buys me a drink, pulls my hand. I just hold the glass close, and peer through its sugary lava red. I'm on a bus and sleep until the last stop, and when I get there I see you. I visit friends in their houses and roam around their rooms, like a cat brushing against the walls. I watch my friends watching movies, instead of looking at the screen. I find a little girl hiding behind a cushion and I braid her wheat colored hair. I learn to bake pies and throw dinner parties, with candles and embroidered placemats.

Then a click and in the window, my face starting back at me.