There are all shapes and sizes of spiritual beliefs. They are mostly quite interesting and while I think some have more substance to them than others, I listen and investigate and try to be as open-minded as possible.
I do not go to church because I don't agree with organised religion. I believe that your spirituality and beliefs should come from within yourself based on what you have discovered and experienced, and not just on what the fat bald man standing behind the podium says.
I have had some very interesting experiences and discussions with people of numerous belief systems and can see merit in each one and some stuff in each one that I do not agree with.
One of my most interesting encounters has been with people who have a sort of new age spiritual outlook. They believe in vibrational energy and that people vibrating on a higher frequency will soon move into the 5th dimension (the 2012 predictions) and will not be able to be seen by those with lower vibrational energy.
They believe in totems and tarot and faeries and even unicorns. They strongly encourage getting back in touch with your inner child and learning how to utilise your imagination the way you once did as a child.
They took me outside into the beautiful garden at work and asked me if I could see the faeries and told me how to summon them. They made me close my eyes and asked me if I could feel the enormous unicorn standing right in front of me. Trying to be truly open to new experiences, I had to at least genuinely try. I stood there with my eyes closed, the scent of the flowers surrounding me filling my nose, the soft grass tickling my feet and the gentle breeze blowing just enough to cause a slight shiver and I felt...nothing. Well, apart from all the environmental factors.
I wasn't sure what to make of these people. Was it something that I was too skeptical of to see and feel? Were they just really deprived of attention as children and were trying to compensate now? Were they perhaps in need of psychiatric medication for their delusions? Or did they need rehab for whatever they were already taking?
Another group of interesting people that I encountered were the Mormons. I worked for a company a while back where I was the only person who was not a Mormon.
These people were very happy and lived very pure and healthy lives. They believed in 3 levels of heaven and a period of waiting before God comes and reclaims your body and then He decided where you go. During this time, if you are worthy, you will perform celestial duties.
They believe that heaven is a physical planet closest to a planet called Kolob. There is also a mother god and is gets a little complicated about who is considered divine and who not.
Basically, unless you seriously are a suckey person, you get to go to a level of heaven and be happy there with everyone of your same non-suckey level there with you.
They wear special under garments to remind them of vows of purity that they have taken and then they watch a terrifying movie where the "devil" threatens them if they tell anyone about their sacred ceremony or break their vows.
Blah blah blah happy clappy religions, blah blah blah, forsake everything material religion, no matter what though, all of these have common denominators and they all seem to interpret the exact same things very, very differently and then fight about it.
Does it really matter if Peter thinks he looks great in purple but Jane thinks he looks better in teal?
I love to listen and learn and maybe find amusement or truth or whatever but when people try and shove it down my throat, I get annoyed. Surely if Michael truly believes that dancing naked every night and sacrificing a bowl of macaroni to the moon is right and he follows this every night without fail, then surely he's on the right path? If a person believes in their heart of hearts that what they are doing is right and what God or Buddha or the Pink Panther or whoever they worship wants, who is anyone to judge? And who is anyone to try and shove it on anyone else? Maybe it's right for you and not for them. Maybe your interpretation of the "one and only truth" is different from theirs.
A message to those who shove their beliefs at everyone else:
Before you go and run off and call people evil and tell them that they're going to hell for not going to church/eating meat on Monday afternoons/watching Harry Potter/not believing what *you* do, stop and think about what a closed-minded fool you are and a zillion other people would probably tell you too that you're going to hell for your beliefs and as much as you know you're not and know you're right, so does everybody else know the same about themselves. Just live and let live.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Television
This one makes me think of those parents whose kids start speaking late in life, battle through school and generally just don't reach their potential.
Television
by Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did
Television
by Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did
The teabag poem
Another one of my favourites:
"l'd like to be a teabag,
And stay at home all day -
And talk to other teabags
In a teabag sort of way . . .
l'd love to be a teabag;
And lie in a little box -
And never have to wash my face
Or change my dirty socks . . .
l'd like to be a teabag,
An Earl Grey one perhaps,
And doze all day and lie around
With Earl Grey kind of chaps.
l wouldn't have to do a thing,
No homework, jobs or chores -
Comfy in my caddy
Of teabags and their snores.
l wouldn't have to do exams
l needn't tidy rooms,
Or sweep the floor or feed the cat
Or wash up all the spoons.
l wouldn't have to do a thing,
A life of bliss - you see . . .
Except that once in all my life
I`d make a cup of tea!"
Peter Dixon
"l'd like to be a teabag,
And stay at home all day -
And talk to other teabags
In a teabag sort of way . . .
l'd love to be a teabag;
And lie in a little box -
And never have to wash my face
Or change my dirty socks . . .
l'd like to be a teabag,
An Earl Grey one perhaps,
And doze all day and lie around
With Earl Grey kind of chaps.
l wouldn't have to do a thing,
No homework, jobs or chores -
Comfy in my caddy
Of teabags and their snores.
l wouldn't have to do exams
l needn't tidy rooms,
Or sweep the floor or feed the cat
Or wash up all the spoons.
l wouldn't have to do a thing,
A life of bliss - you see . . .
Except that once in all my life
I`d make a cup of tea!"
Peter Dixon
Mashed potato love poem
I have decided to share some of my favourite poems by various authors. This is one of them:
"If I ever had to choose between you and a third helping of mashed potato (whipped lightly with a fork, not whisked, with a little pool of butter melting in the middle...)
I think
I'd choose
the mashed potato.
But I'd choose you next."
Sidney Hoddes
"If I ever had to choose between you and a third helping of mashed potato (whipped lightly with a fork, not whisked, with a little pool of butter melting in the middle...)
I think
I'd choose
the mashed potato.
But I'd choose you next."
Sidney Hoddes
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