Righteous as Hell

Things I have believed that weren't Faith

I think most popular essays are kind of stupid, even the ones praised by my friends. It lowers my esteem for their logical abilities when I read one such, but do not take it personally; this is because of my collection of atheisms. Recently I read an article that I might have agreed with broadly, but it was filled with unexamined talking points more at home in soyjak memes than a serious essay. I huffed in disgust once, twice, three times, and stopped reading.

They say that you are every person in your dreams, and I have a vivid dream that explains the huff somewhat. In the dream, I get frustrated by being asked to drink the water of life from little pitchers that are gatekept by people who care more about their tablecloths than who is at the table. I feel grateful that the people are bringing out little servings of the water of life, of course, but I am profoundly dissatisfied, like a tree in a drought when the promised rain is only a light sprinkle that burns away in the morning sun. I make my way squeezing past the fusty table settings down a long hallway, and I find stairs to the river of life that I can see through the windows. I go downstairs and outside, and there I see a wizened old monk puffing on a brown cigarillo, his posture making everything seem obvious so you can’t possibly feel proud about discovering anything. Oh? The greatness of the depth of wisdom and glory of God the Father? You mean something that has literally no bar to entry? The monk is not impressed. I raise my chin at him, and when he doesn’t object, I go to the glowing river and wade into it and drink as though with my whole being. I am the woman in the water, and I am the smoking old wise man who has seen it all and to whom nothing is new.

I get a little mad at the monk as I float in the water. He is asceticism and discipline and so hard that I assume he will be judgmental. I think rough thoughts at him. Something I have never understood is why so many people say you should intentionally starve in order to know God. I starved unintentionally as a child. It gave me a sense of priorities and a resolve to never starve my children. The idea that hunger is necessary to knowing God sounds absolutely batshit crazy to me. I cannot agree to it or abide it. But I am extremely calculating. I think I am starting in the same place as others, but I have already modified my life to make sure I have something to share. The monk really doesn’t care. If you don’t rest from labor, you need more food. Perhaps, my justice acknowledges, I have broken the commandment to keep the sabbath and keep it holy, and perhaps that unnoticed sin is why fasting is abhorrent to me. The monk and I are both me, of course, but it is this way that I see my own sins, swimming in mercy and also intolerant of lies.