Thoughts on Life, Love, and the Absurd: The True Reason

Thoughts on Life, Love, and the Absurd: The True Reason: Throughout the years, I’ve engaged in quite an assortment of faith-based debates; usually taking up the con position on the topic of whether...

The True Reason

Throughout the years, I’ve engaged in quite an assortment of faith-based debates; usually taking up the con position on the topic of whether or not modern Christianity has it right. This will not be intended as a thread to debate this subject; however for those who are curious, and have silently wondered as to the basis of my (antifaith-based) beliefs, it has a lot to do with my mother. It was my mother, who brought us to Jesus in 1973. Prior to that, she was just like any other middle class divorced mother raising a son in the suburbs. She had a successful career in escrow administration; very pioneering for a working mother of the 60’s and 70’s. I of course, was the typical latch-key kid of the era; though she managed to keep me involved in Scouts and Little League. Despite the pressures on her as not only my primary parent (dad would pick me up most weekends), but as a career working parent, she managed to always stay involved. Sometimes she’d get very moody, even throw the occasional temper tantrum; but not entirely unforeseeable coming from a single parent from Irish Texan stock. But she was my mama, and she was a passionate human being…

It was about the time I was 10, that she brought Jesus into our lives. She had been receiving some sort of psychiatric counseling a couple years before that, possibly for depression – I don’t know. I was too young to understand those kinds of things. But suddenly, she found her purpose in Jesus. Mind you, she had gone to church off and on her whole life, even while I was a little baby; but now she was completely embracing the faith. And so too I, as an obedient child, began to embrace our new life in Jesus. Everything we did in our lives, was to honor God, through Jesus. Everything. Thanks was given for everything; and everything that happened was according to His Will.

Allow me to make a long story short. If this sounds like bliss to you, perhaps it may have seemed like it at the time – but in retrospect, it was not. You see, the woman who sought Jesus was my mother – but once He entered her – I lost my mother. She became somebody else. She lost her sense of humor. She lost her tolerance for humanity. Instead of her and I, and living our lives; it became about what God and Jesus wanted. Every single decision, every single interaction from that day forward was no longer about us – it was about God’s Will. It was about 5 years later, that my mother chose for me to leave, packed up my suitcase, and had my father pick me up. Not for anything I outright did, but because I was becoming a young man who began to formulate his own thoughts. Mind you, I never questioned God (that didn’t come till many years later), I was just growing up – and so was my mind. That was 33 years ago; and my mother had managed to extract herself from everyone’s lives – except God. At one point, I went 19 years without seeing her; and she has spent the last 41 years of her life alone. Earlier this year we were having a phone conversation, and she actually cussed about something. I felt a rush of joy fall over me as this rare glimpse of her true soul shined through for a moment; only to realize how ironic it was that in order to save her soul, she had to sacrifice it…

At some point during the middle of the night last night, my mother passed away in a cold, unattended room. All I can say is, I hope she was right…


Dub'

What precisely is love, anyway? - Pt II

I’ve spoken previously about this (http://dubiousdub.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-precisely-is-love-anyway.html), but the topic of love remains a paradox.  Love somehow manages to be both constant, and variable.  No matter where life takes you, when you have truly loved somebody, I mean TRULY loved somebody with your entire being – can it ever truly disappear?  If you had loved beyond all that is imaginable, but were subsequently hurt beyond all comprehension, what is it that remains?  I say I do not love; and yet for some odd reason – I find myself caring.  Concerning myself; at considerable personal risk to all that truly matters to me now.  I am fortunate, in that I was raised by parents who had entrenched morals.  I’ve pretty much established myself as an independent thinker since childhood, forsaken some of my parent’s personal-beliefs; but never turned my back on their core-morals.  Basically, whatever you do, do the right thing.  Treat others as you would have them treat you; for the most part.  But the one thing that conflicts with me the most, involves my being raised in the Christian church.  Taught to be “Christ-like”, to “turn the other cheek”; to forgive.  To love unconditionally.  I underwent serious emotional devastation, commencing over a year ago; but have since managed to move on.  Took me the better part of a year to get my head on straight.  And yet with all this, this previous chapter in my life still appears to remain unclosed.  My previous love, in whom I had loved deeper than life itself, and who had subsequently willfully and wantonly hurt and disgraced me with reckless abandon – is on the brink of complete and utter ruin.  What is happening to her is a direct result of the extremely peculiar choices she had made, when carelessly discarding the love we once shared to the wayside.   And now, after all of this ruination; after such extreme betrayal – she reaches out to me for help.  Why, oh why mother, had you taught me to be “Christ-like”?   When most human beings would feel great satisfaction at seeing those who have betrayed them so callously, wither and fail; why do I feel pity instead?  Why do I still feel like I care, when I had not been afforded such compassion?  I’ve worn my bitterness like a badge of honor for over a year now.  And if that’s not complicated enough, I find myself – dare I say it – falling in love again; to someone else I had attempted for months to keep at an arms distance.  I must survive, and I must walk forward; and I do not want to ruin the love I share now.  But what is it that truly remains of a seemingly once-perfect love, since mired in a Judas kiss?   She now states that I must be laughing; yet why do I feel like the last person who would do so?  Where one is taught to be compassionate, how does one ever truly close the door?

Dub’

We're all rats, just pressing on levers, waiting to be rewarded with pellets.

Placebo buttons.  Ever heard of the term?  You should have; because they’re everywhere.  Buttons do “our bidding”, because that’s what we’ve been conditioned to think.   For instance, how many of you press the “close door” button when you get on an elevator?  To those of you who do, I want you now to imagine getting on an elevator, and NOT pressing the button.  Just stand there, and look at it.  Wait for the door to close by itself.  Feel that little twitch?  You’re conditioned, just like a lab animal.  Now, how many of you were aware that the “close door” button only works for emergency personnel and workers with that special little key that goes into the key lock you see right above the button?  But ya’ll go ahead and press away, so you can continue obtaining that special little chemical rush you’re all so fond of.  And how about crosswalks at intersections?  How many times in recent memory have you found yourself continually depressing the button?  You know… standing there idle; impatient, and not knowing what to do with your hands?  “Hurry up, light!”  How many of us in that impatient mode continue to depress the button; as though it will magically trigger the light to change.  There used to be a time in history, where those little buttons actually did trigger lights to change; but they’re all run by timers and computers now.  There’s still a few functioning ones here and there; but extremely rare to find.  Do you know why those buttons still exist?  Because not only does it keep you calm; it would cost a ton of money to remove them.  So go take a break, and buy yourself a snack and a soda.  You’ll feel better.  Plus, you’ll get rewarded by pressing a couple of buttons.  It will all be better.

Your station for all misanthropy, all of the time.

Dub’

Things that piss me off - Pt. XXIV

That I haven’t been pissed off in over a month.  This is ruining my reputation. I hope this doesn’t mean I’m getting all soft and mushy; that would really piss me off.

Your station for all misanthropy, all the time.

Dub'

Dub's Piquant 12-Seasoning Dry Rub

My own special blend; especially good on BBQ ribs.

Ingredients:
Brown sugar - 1/2 cup
White sugar - 1 Tbsp
Paprika - 1/4 cup
Coriander - 1/8 cup
Cumin - 2 Tbsps
Dry mustard - 1 Tbsp
Chili powder - 1 Tbsp
Garlic powder - 1 Tbsp
Basil - 1 Tbsp
McCormick's Worcestershire pepper - 1 Tbsp
Salt - 1 Tbsp
Cayenne pepper - 1/2 Tbsp

Apply liberally, and hand-rub into meat of choice.

Guaranteed the best dry-rub you've ever savored...


Dub'

Things that piss me off - Pt. XXIII

• That the couch she'd scream at my son for daring to soil with a spot, now sits exposed in the tall grass of her front yard; after (of course) subsequently spray-painting it black (yes, spray-painted).

• Corporate suits who are just "too important" to understand the time and effort it takes to get things done beneath their hierarchal level; and who want to "shake the tree" when they don't get instant results.

• Individuals who, despite many advance warnings, feign "surprise" when they themselves not only had a direct hand in the outcome; but incredibly even did their part to encourage it.

• When ultra-conservative family members are castigated by fellow RW'ers who would rather pigeon-hole them, rather than allow them to speak their mind about that which is blatantly absurd.

• Misdirected grief.

• Modern pop-culture vampire enthusiasts who take my online comments way too seriously (and of course, delete them), when I suggest that worthwhile vampire entertainment died with Christopher Lee's final film appearance as Dracula in the 70's (and even that was bad). Jesus, lighten up a bit.  Bad television has been around for a long time.

• Monday mornings.

• People who turn their back on a loved one, digging holes for themselves in the process; and then incredibly whine when their former loved one isn't "there for them" when the bottom falls out.

• The corporate time police.

• Those who absolutely must have THE last word, every fucking time.  OTOH, though an annoyance to me, at times I find myself quite humored by it.

• Those who convey their "disappointment" in the actions of others, when they themselves appear to have been setting a similar table.

Your station for all misanthropy, all the time.


Dub'