When I was a child I went to Sunday School and learned that a man born two thousand years ago in a tiny Middle Eastern town called Bethlehem was the son of God. In fact, said our Sunday School teacher, a pretty little brunette who wore gingham and an Alice band, Jesus was God Himself.
The shocking story of his betrayal and crucifixion emerged piecemeal, various chapters of Jesus’ life revealed as the teachers felt we were old enough to cope with the fact that humanity had butchered God. The crucifixion was horrifying in its cruelty and God’s lingering death made me quietly furious with humanity whose ingratitude seemed inexcusable. The teachers explained that Jesus’ death was part of God’s plan to save humanity. His death was so that we might live eternally in Heaven. But, I reasoned, how could Jesus be both God and His son at once and what kind of parent allows the torture their child? This seemed like bullshit to me. But with no other information I suppressed my doubts and believed what everybody else was swallowing hook, line and sinker. For years I clung to the story that had set like concrete in the minds of my friends and rather than risk ostracism I forced myself to overlook the lapses of credibility and clung to the hope that Jesus’ resurrection did indeed guarantee forgiveness and ultimate union with this innocent victim of human abuse.
In tandem with this story I was listening to other stories.
My father, a Lieutenant-Colonel in the Australian Army explained carefully why it was necessary to drop two atomic bombs on Japan and murder millions of people. He said that murdering millions of the “enemy” whose lives apparently were worth less than ours, would ultimately save millions of Australian and American lives. Like the story of Jesus being a pawn in God’s plan to save humanity this story of butchery simply didn’t find traction in my understanding.
But with no other source of information I held onto these twin beliefs. For a while.
When I reached my teens I was hearing other stories. I was apparently a citizen of a privileged “lucky” country. I was Australian and that meant I was blessed and defined by a heritage of butchery of the original owners of the land who also defined themselves by a sense of unity with the dirt beneath their feet – dirt corralled by ocean on all sides. It all felt like bullshit to me.
I looked at the stars and felt a far deeper connection with those distant pulses of light that weren’t spinning stories of death and force and autonomy over designated terrain that blessed occupants with superiority over others.
By the time I reached my twenties I let go of all the stories and fell into a desolate place of isolation devoid of gravity and companionship. From this lonely place I was able to observe the dynamic of herd thinking and inculcated beliefs that forged unity among consensual groups. I realised that all of these silly stories were spun in response to gravity. Gravity glues us to this planet but gravity is the weakest force in the Universe. And yet psychologically it is the force that takes precedence over all others including momentum, the force of original projection and arguably the force that indicates our soul path.
I understand the impulses that keep people united in delusion. It’s fear of loneliness, a need to belong, a sense of gravity holding us firmly on the earth.
But to initiate a return to momentum one has to let go.
Let go of all those beliefs in order to explore your own truth. Let go of nations, borders, racial separation and religious waffle.
By the age of twenty I had to let go or implode under the weight of falsehood. I stopped going to church and I told my father he and his kind were murderers. It broke us apart for a short time but love brought us back together because it is the strongest force in the Universe. Love and a willingness on his part to let go of his indoctrinated ideas about war. In the end he came to regret his part in a system of pugilistic aggression that murdered far more than it saved. He saw the world through a lens that was truer to his soul than the lens of nationalistic bias.
For my own part I let go of Christianity and all who sailed with her including Jesus. I became an atheist for years but eventually this seemed like another cop-out so I started exploring other religions. Not one of them had the answers I was looking for. I got involved in witchcraft, seances and Ouija Boards in my quest to see if there was anything sentient and willing to talk to me about the Afterlife.
I got tired of witches very quickly as they struck me as a bunch of lovesick femmes looking for spells to control reluctant lovers. But through the Ouija Board I met dead people and all manner of Otherworldly entities who had relevant and fascinating lives in energetic form. They were eager to chat and answer my questions. Through them I discovered a far more complex mesh of sentience in concert with LIFE as the primary force. Years of conversations on the Ouija Board opened my mind and ignited my own understanding of God and Life and ultimately Jesus who initiated a fresh, modern and individual relationship with me based on, but not limited to, my soul evolution. I was encouraged to ask questions but cautioned not to get ahead of myself in my understanding. Time and again over the subsequent years Jesus cautioned me to focus on my life purpose and give my talent the time and energy it deserved and let go of trying to understand the Afterlife – a place he assured me I would reach in due course!
So, here at last was the kind of religious instruction I longed for – intelligent, open-minded and relevant to my life. And because I was open-minded I was able to access spiritual advisers through the pagan, evil and dangerous Ouija Board which coincidentally connected me with Jesus, the so-called progenitor of the Christian Church. Although, as he explained, he never intended to become an icon. He had a human life and did his best to make a difference. The religion that sprung up in his name was neither his idea nor his intention. The fact that he intuited that Peter would build a Church did not sanction the project, it merely anticipated Peter’s use of his own free will and like all things in LIFE good and bad emerged in equal measure.
Wisdom is the ability to renovate old ideas when they grown stale.
I have gained so much by deviating from the path others have rutted over centuries of mindless obeisance.
There are many others who have struck off alone and found the traction of wings in defiance of gravity. I despair when I hear of crimes committed in the name of God because it chimes with the crucifixion and the callous integration of human butchery into a tapestry of transmogrification. Murdering Jesus was not God’s plan. It is as heinous an act of human butchery as the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Holocaust, cutting down rainforests, poisoning the atmosphere with toxic fumes and filling the ocean with plastic waste.
We cannot keep reconfiguring Divine intention to chime with our immorality.
God kills so we do.
We kill so we create the comfortable delusion that God does, too.
Religion has anthropomorphised God, remade this numinous entity into a man with the narrow corseted mindset of a jealous, insecure psychopath. God is a loving, playful, curious, evolving empath ever willing to embrace the new and evolutionary. God is not spongy love.
God is LIFE in all its force and vigour and commitment to survival.
Accepting an open-ended reality means letting go of constricted box-set beliefs and ideas.
Which brings me to today and some people’s determination to cling to the past paradigm embodied in the narcissistic rule of Donald Trump, a man who defends fiscal imbalance and services billionaires. He is so blatantly erroneous and to many of us it’s obvious but some still defend him out of pride and the stubborn refusal to let go.
So, the big lesson here is letting go and feeling confident enough to admit you were wrong. It’s hard admitting fault but it’s the most liberating thing you can do at a timely juncture in your life.
When I admitted to myself that I no longer believed in God or my country’s politics or humanity’s whitewashing of mass murder in war I felt empty, frightened, unsupported, in defiance of gravity and totally alone. It was an exaggerated feeling of vertigo. I did not trust myself to find traction or wings. I did not trust myself to think for myself. I did not believe I had the brains, the spirituality or the personal power to go against my religion, my father, my nation or my God.
But I defied them all and found myself.
I am very comfortable today knowing that I don’t know what to expect when I die. I trust myself and I trust the denizens of Otherworld – the angels, sprites and spirits who watch over us and co-create our lives with us whether we know it or not.
It’s OK to let go. It’s OK to admit you were wrong. It’s OK to defy the tribe.
The sky won’t fall.
The last word goes to Tom, an Irish writer I met on the Ouija Board. “Not one of your religions knows the truth. You think heaven is a shining place where only believers go. You think hell is the other place. I tell you, lass, it’s all made up. There’s no heaven, no hell, no punishment. It’s better than that – better than anything you can imagine.”
Thank God for that!!