A Life of Contemplation

Lately, I’ve been thinking what it’d be like to go off someplace where I could live more simply; someplace away from the distractions of the ever-depressing news of the day and the energy sapping ego conflicts of the workplace.

I could spend my days contemplating the inherent nature of existence; I could immerse myself in the eternal flow of life.  I would find my center and be at one with all things.  You know, like St. Anthony (the ascetic) did.

For nearly forty years Anthony lived a hermetic existence in the desert existing on the rare crust of bread offered him by passing pilgrims.  He rid himself of all desires of the flesh in the belief that through asceticism ultimate truth would be revealed to him.

There was one night, though, when hedonistic desires descended upon him like a torrential downpour.  He wanted, wanted, wanted: good food, good drink and women of any sort.  All night he suffered.  He fought back with every ounce of his energy.  When morning finally came Anthony was spent from the night’s exertions but was also strengthened in the knowledge he could overcome temptation.  His resignation was renewed, but with it, the fear of even greater tests to come.

I’m really not too worried about this happening to me.  Food and drink aren’t important to a doll and I’m really not that into primal urges.The Temptation of St. Anthony 3

Meaning of Life

Sometimes I wonder about the meaning of life; is there purpose in my existence.  Buddha says life is suffering; relinquish your desires to find the way to enlightenment.  The Dao says be frugal in thought and action and you will come early to the way which will allow you to immerse yourself in the flow and stay centered.

Maybe purpose has nothing to do with it.  Maybe I just need to live my life moment by moment, in the flow, on the path to enlightenment.  You know, wake up, smell the coffee.

I think there may be some self-discipline involved here.

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Born Again

For me, I don’t think there’s anything as energizing as the onset of spring.  As the temperature becomes mild, the birds began to sing and the crocuses began to appear I feel my spirits lift.  There’s a sense of rebirth in the air; life reappears after months of dormancy.  In some ways it’s like a religious experience.

My friend Pearl said this idea reminded her of an experience she had while attending a revival meeting a while ago.  She said the evangelist told the congregation that life was suffering because of the guilt of their sins and the only way to overcome the depths of despair, the fear and trembling of existence was to leap into faith and be born again.

Pearl thought about this awhile but being a bit of a skeptic and seeing rebirth wasn’t in her plans for the evening, she decided to pass on the leap and just deal with the despair and absurdity of human existence the best she could.

Well, all I can say is if our existence is essentially despairing and absurd then why do I have spring fever?

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Women’s Business

I got a letter from Juju Wilson the other day.  She informed me her family had recently gained ownership rights to their ancestral lands near Kununurra in Western Australia.  The land is very important to her and her family and she wanted to let everyone know.

When I visited Juju and her grannies a few years ago, they told me about women’s business.  Juju said women sing songs of power that are forbidden to men.  She said the songs are as old as time; that they were sung by creator beings in the dream time to bring the world into being.  The birds and animals, the goannas, rivers, water holes and billabongs all came to be in this way. One day while I was there Juju and her grannies took me to a sacred site where they had each been, in their time, initiated into womanhood.  It is a place where two supernatural spirits, the Namarrgarn Sisters, reside.   On the wall of an alcove there, is a painting of the sisters  transforming themselves into crocodiles.

I think these women are truly fortunate to live so close to their spiritual origins.  I wonder how different the world might be if everyone had such a meaningful connection to place.

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The Big Picture

I’ve been thinking lately about the big questions: you know: why am I here, is there a purpose to life, does the fact my plastic body will never deteriorate mean that in some sense I’m immortal?

I know the ancients found answers in the stars and planets.  They used their relative positions in the heavens to predict what would be as well as what to do and when.  I guess they needed some assurance the universe wasn’t completely random; that there was a cosmic plan they could base their lives on that would ensure some stability and be some sort of guarantee that existence would be meaningful.

Later mystics organized the heavens into levels one could travel between by gaining secret knowledge rising higher and higher until one entered the throne room of God, where I suppose one could expect to gain a sense of the big picture, especially if God showed up.

I think if the heavens hold the answers, maybe we just haven’t arrived at the right place yet.  Maybe in some future rotation of the earth through the universe we’ll enter a rarefied atmosphere where everything will become clear; where we’ll know for certain whether God or chaos rules.

Well, I’m not waiting around.  I’ll center my mind, go with the flow, live my dreams and hope the ride isn’t too bumpy.

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Return of the Goddess

While at the library the other day I happened on a book about the origins of religion. In it I read that many early gods were not gods at all but rather goddesses.  There were pictures of numerous pre-historic goddess figures, an image of the Egyptian cow goddess Hathor and many more from various cultures around the world.

The text went on to say that these early nature oriented peoples recognized the relationship between a woman’s reproductive cycle and the phases of the moon upon which they determined their agricultural activities: planting, harvesting and such and from this associated a certain super-natural aspect with womankind.

I guess overtime woman has lost some of her magical association.  But, when I think about it there are still women out there who continue to radiate goddess-like qualities.  Lady Gaga, Madonna and Sinead  O’Connor all seem to think quite a lot about religion.

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Belief is truth to the Believer

Boy, it’s really hard to know what to believe these days.  I read in a news magazine my hero, Mr. Rogers, was a former Navy Seal with twenty five confirmed sniper kills during the war in Viet Nam; truly mind-boggling.  But, then I went on line looking for details and found out that the story wasn’t true, that it was just an urban legend.

I got to thinking that the safest thing to do is doubt everything, but my friend told me that it’s impossible: to be skeptical of everything is to be skeptical of being skeptical which is a logical contradiction. (I guess he didn’t know about Godel’s Incompleteness Theorem).

My friend said I should have faith that some things are true, that belief is truth to the believer. I guess people with a strong religious faith believe God is truth and that when they’re in doubt they can ask God to direct them, which means they have a way of communicating with a supernatural entity.  I don’t doubt their sincerity but judging from the variety of interpretations different people have for the Biblical texts I wonder if they’re all talking to the same Being.

Well, maybe it’s just that wires get crossed sometimes.

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Do you ever get picked on?

I’ve been having problems lately at doll school.  This Chucky doll has been making fun of me, teasing me for having a visible fusion seam that runs around my entire body, of being monochromatic, of always wearing the same dress.  He’s relentless and I feel persecuted.

But I’ve gotten to thinking about people who have suffered truly abominable persecutions. Take St. Sebastian.  He was tied to a post and shot full of arrows and when that didn’t kill him he was clubbed to death-just for having unacceptable religious beliefs.  Then there was Giordano Bruno who had his tongue cut out and was burned at the stake just for having the audacity to suggest there were probably intelligent beings on other planets.

Well, I guess I can deal with Chucky.  I’ll just ignore him; if that doesn’t work maybe I can get my friend Ken to teach him some manners.  I know, I know, retribution isn’t the answer but sometimes it sure is pleasing to contemplate.

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What Hell is like

I just finished reading Dante’s Inferno.  In case you don’t know it’s a book about what Hell is like.  In it, Dante tells about being guided by the poet Virgil into the underworld, which is this huge pit containing the souls of all the people who have died and been found guilty of evil doings without having done anything, penitence-wise, that would have maybe gotten them to a more favorable eternal location.

The first level of the underworld is for people who haven’t been baptized and, basically, all they have to do is wait around forever, but as Dante and Virgil go down deeper and deeper they discover each successive level holds souls who have been more evil than the last and are made to suffer worse conditions.

On level five heretics are encased in fiery graves and watched over by the Furies and Medusa.  On level seven violent souls are submerged in a river of boiling blood and watched over by the Minotaur so if they come up for air they get shoved back down.

When the poets get to the very bottom they find Satan encased in ice and unable to move, so they climb up his huge body and escape from Hell.

Boy, Dante sure had a good imagination.  The amount of detail he goes in to is amazing.  He must of thought about Hell for a long time.  I wonder if it was because he felt guilty about something or if he was just trying to warn people to walk the straight and narrow.

Anyway, I think people today think differently about what Hell will be like than they did in Dante’s day.  It probably will have more to do with the loss of mobile communication devices and reality TV.

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Nothing new under the sun

I was reading Ecclesiastes the other day.  One verse says: ‘what has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.’  The whole book is about the meaninglessness of life.

From the other side of the aisle, Nietzsche says in an infinite universe with no God to direct it, the finite experiences of human existence must necessarily repeat themselves eternally; over and over and over……….

Seems pretty depressing to think there can never be anything new and fresh.  Still, the other day I was having a conversation with my alter ego, the daring flamboyant me who’s always trying to get me to push my limits, to step beyond my comfort zone.  Daring me convinced shy, reserved me to accept an invitation to tell my story to an auditorium full of junior high students.  When the time came I was petrified but somehow made it through.  They even applauded and I felt pretty good about it in the end.  It gave me a new found confidence.

Still, I don’t see it happening again.  I know my true nature and I’m not talking to her any more.

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