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There is a force that drives history. It is a raging and chaotic machine that fears nothing and spares no one. It is everywhere, yet it is nowhere. Some call it evil, or cruel. Some call it indifferent.

Others simply call it Satan.

The valiant fight it, sacrificing everything at times. The cowards cling to it, shielded in a guise of power and status. Others are simply run down by its progress. Do not confuse it with death, for death is the exit, or transition to another mysterious country. Yet this force wields death like a terrible weapon of fear, intimidation, and leverage to accomplish its objectives.

Over time this machine has become oiled, fine tuned, and painted with bright welcoming colors, gleaming with the seductive light of nationalism, progress, and profit. Some bow to it, still their heads tilted towards their primary idols of vice, not wishing to appear ungrateful to either master.

At times, the reign of the machine is challenged. The battles are often short and bloody, merely an obstruction in the gears which grind their way onward. There are other times when the machine must stop, its wheels pushed back on course by those pushing it along.

But then there are times the machine breaks down. This is still merely a delay. Soon it is back on track, breaking the bones of the saints, the idealists, the poets, the dreamers, the naive sons and daughters of time.

There was once a man who stood infront of the machine, not asking it to stop. Tauntingly, he stared into its menacing eyes, laying down in its very path. The machine crushed him under its weight, thinking nothing it.

Soon the man became a legend, both revered and ridiculed. Those driving the machine claimed victory and still do to this day. But something had changed. Others stood before the machine. More and more, they came.

And they’ll never stop.

The machine rages on, more erratic than ever. Its campaign of bloodshed has been packaged and sold to the children who it orphaned. But more and more lay down before it.

And they’ll never stop.

The machine still rages, and so do we.

And we’ll never stop until the drivers join us, leaving no one to drive the machine.

And we’ll never stop…

And we’ll never stop…

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“We are the 99 percent.”  How many of us identify with this slogan and with the Occupiers?   Perhaps when we hear it we burn with righteous indignation and raise our fists at the lack of justice in our society.  The richest one percent owns 40 percent of the country’s financial wealth.  Meanwhile for the rest of us things can get really scary, really fast.   If we are lucky enough to have a job, many of us are just one pay check away from financial ruin.  Therefore, we can identify with our sisters and brothers here at the bottom, and perhaps we even revel in that (at least a little).  There is a dignity in being in the 99, but as for the other one percent we know where they stand.   But before we start beltin’ out the Internationale, the Billy Bragg version of course, let us take a swig of reality.

Let’s widen the lens a bit. As Americans, how much wealth, opportunity, and resources do we claim in comparison to the rest of humanity? Instead I want to expand our lens even further. Let’s consider life forms on earth, and let’s just consider animals. A cursory examination of the web reveals that around 80 percent of the total number of animals on the earth are insects. If one also calculates the number of rats, bunnies, fish, snakes, elephants, and all the other non-human animals on the planet, it would be easy to say that we must make up, at the very most, one percent of the animal population on the planet. The question then is how are the one percent of animals, us humans, treating the 99 percent, the rest of animal life on earth?

Think this is a ridiculous question? Remember back when you were still in the 99 percent? Were your concerns trivial or ridiculous? Back then didn’t you think that 100 percent of people deserved equal consideration? Surely justice did not merely apply to a small fraction of the population. And yet we the 99 percent, even as crappy as things are down here, rarely want to consider in what ways we are the 1 percent in the grand scheme of things. But I still want to ask you, how are we treating the 99 percent?

Again, I will pass on the opportunity to speak of the mountains, the rivers, the polar ice caps, and stick with animals. How have we treated our fellow creatures? First, we often refuse to identify with them. No matter what science tells us, many in our society STILL refuse to call ourselves members of the animal kingdom. (The Scopes Monkey Trial, anyone?) Secondly, we lay waste to their resources as we pillage Mother Earth. Sadly we have not really learned the lesson that their fate is ours as well. Thirdly, we divide animals into categories and we call them “pets,” “wildlife,” “endangered,” “livestock,” and even “pests.”  We protect some and harm others.

There are four animals in my household, and I consider them family. Judging from the photos on all the social media sites, I am not alone in my affections. And yet, as a society we allow one cat or dog to be euthanized in US animal shelters every 11 seconds.  We consider this a “necessary” evil. But we still must wonder why these particular animals are so expendable. Additionally, we draw up animal welfare legislation to protect animals, but only certain species.  As of this writing there are virtually no such laws that protect “livestock” even though they feel the same pains as our beloved cats and dogs we call “pets.”  Therefore, the agriculture industry subjects millions of animals to frequent torture, mutilation, and stifling confinement before they end up on our dinner plates. Look it up. The information is out there, if you dare!

And so it seems that when the tables are turned, we are not as fair-minded as we would like to believe. Therefore, as we call out for justice for ourselves, it behooves us to widen our lens and consider the meaning of the word. It means that we need to ask how we’re treating the 99 percent.  So, how do you think we’re faring?

“The more you are motivated by love, the more fearless and free your action will be.” – Dalai Lama

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ImageBryan Gillette lives with his husband, three rescue dogs, one crafty kitty, and his mom in the mountains just outside of Asheville, NC. When he’s not situated in the midst of frequent awkward social scenarios, he takes great pleasure reading Merton, spending time with family (both two and four legged), British comedy, and in the contemplation of nature. Although he has always felt like a religious “outsider”, he will soon be trying his hand at Chicago Theological Seminary. (“May God bless her and all who sail in her.”)

Winter is over…

Brett Gallaher —  June 9, 2013 — 2 Comments

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I have not had the strength to write a blog post since it happened, since I separated from my spouse a little over two weeks ago. Obviously I know there is a time and a place for everything under the sun, yet it never seems the right time to write a blog post about something as sensitive a topic as this. I am someone who hates being hated, someone who avoids conflict at all costs. I did not want to use this blog as a means to bring more pain to those I’ve hurt or to garner increased support for myself. Yet here I am. Here goes nothin’.

First, a little backstory. I, like many others, am jaded by various individuals and circumstances from my past. The example I wish to use here involves another blog I used to follow. One day I opened my laptop and saw an intriguing article on the front page of MSNBC.com. A student pastor (who I will not name) was fired for his repeated blogging in support of progressive issues like LGBT rights and Christian Universalism. When I first discovered his blog I was still a United Methodist youth pastor. I was outraged that someone would be fired for expressing their personal theological views. I immediately “friended” him on Facebook and the two of us soon began sharing horror stories from our ministry years. It turned out that he had moved back to his wife’s hometown after his firing. That town was Cleveland, Tennessee. My hometown. After I left youth ministry, I moved back there as well to join him in planting a church. I had put all of my hope in this new venture. 

To make a long story short, it didn’t pan out. This “martyr” for progressive Christianity ended up being what I came to abhor about those who claimed to speak for the Christian left. He ended up being a self-adsorbed egomaniac who used progressivism as an excuse to live from the bottom of the moral dung heap, while still calling himself a pastor. After his many infidelities, he still went to his blog and spoke of his calling, of his role as a leader, as someone you should still send checks to. I was horrified he had used his blog to somehow appear noble in the midst of his rancid false piety.

Do I sound jaded enough yet?

Anyway, this individual became the epitome of everything I hoped I would never become. I knew I could never speak for God, for Christianity ever again. It was so stereotypical, the hypocritical pastor who drags the name of Jesus through the mud. I could never become that. It was too predictable. 

So I made We Occupy Jesus, an attempt to push the spotlight back to issues that matter, not about myself and my own Jesus-ness or lack thereof. I do not intend to speak for a religion, only for my own experiences. Yet the ghosts of my past return, telling me I’m just like that other guy, that phony, that charlatan, because I’ve missed the mark.

I know I have hurt people. I do not claim immunity from my actions. In fact, a friend told me not long ago that I had to own my decisions; I couldn’t hide behind my own confusion and apprehension. For once in my life I had to be honest with myself, and with those in my life, regardless of the consequences. I finally did tell my spouse I was unhappy and that I had broken our wedding vows. 

Now comes the long, cold winter. Now comes the self-doubting, the guilt, the fear of condemnation and shame. Here in the south it is especially difficult to live this down. Obviously I’m a monster. Obviously I must simply have a sexual addiction. Obviously I’m a sinner. Obviously I’ve been brainwashed by “the world.” Obviously I have no morality. Obviously We Occupy Jesus is a cult. 

Obviously life is more complicated than that. We are human. We are broken. We have to start over sometimes. We wish things weren’t so messy, but sometimes they are. Sometimes we have to hurt people, or risk losing our own souls. This is the deck life hands some of us. We wish we could go back and change it all, but in doing so we would unmake our own lives. 

Am I asking for anyone to forgive me because I admit my faults? Is honesty somehow a ticket to an admirable humility? Does it make me any less broken? No, not one bit. Yet I can say this. The truth does indeed set you free. Have you mistaken your cell for liberty? The darkness has a certain comfort to it, does it not?

Look deep within yourself. Lift the dungeon gates. Winter is over.
A new day is coming.

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ImageBrett Gallaher is founder of We Occupy Jesus, pretty much the best blog like ever. He resides in Cleveland, Tennessee, the second largest Cleveland in the United States. Once he shot a squirrel, but he felt really bad about it afterwards. When he’s not changing the world, Brett also enjoys paying way too much for coffee.

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During the early morning hours of August 25, 2008, I received the call every son dreads. My aunt was on the line and she told me that family members had been trying to contact me.   My mom had attempted to call me while the paramedics were working on my dad, but I slept through her attempts to reach me.  But by the time I received my aunt’s call my dad was gone, and I was needed at my mom’s side.

Rev. Matthew Fox begins his 1988 work, The Coming of the Cosmic Christ, with a dream.  In his dream he is told, “Your mother is dying.”   Fox interprets the word “mother” to signify several different things including the ongoing pillage of Mother Earth and the slow, spasmodic death of the Church.[i]   Blogger Scott Winter has already written superbly about the significance of Mother, “the pale blue dot”, and about our responsibility to cherish her and those precious others who inhabit her.[ii]  Also, blogger Heath Skaggs has shared his thoughts on the decline of religion, especially the Church that has failed to provide many of us a compelling reason to sit in her pews Sunday after Sunday.[iii]  Therefore, it seems as though we have seen the signs of death around us, but have we comprehended the immediacy of the situation?  Have we missed the “phone calls”?

As you may be able to tell, it takes some time for messages to sink through to me before the light bulb goes on.  Last week I received more than enough voltage, in the form of a web article, to knock me on my ass.  David Hilfiker’s article, “Hope in an Environmental Wasteland”, is one of the features of the current edition of Conspire magazine.  He opens with the following: “It’s too late to prevent climate change; it [sic] already happening, and much worse is coming.  The powerful forces of consumerism, a capitalist economic system, government, the power of corporations, and the influence of the media create a web that we will not untangle without profound changes in our society.  If we can’t actually solve the problems of global warming and climate change, if the results are going to be tragic, where do we find hope?  How do we respond?”[iv]  I hope that you’re already thinking about the words “it’s too late.”   Otherwise, you have missed the point.

What on this pale blue dot could Hilfiker be doing here?  Why is he so damn pessimistic? Perhaps one of Hilfiker’s most profound contributions, the one I wish to emphasize here, is his insistence that our tendency towards optimism is not always particularly beneficial.  According to Hilfiker, our optimism is shrouding us from what is really happening and diverting us from our important work.  

Before we go further I’d like to refer back to Rev. Matthew Fox for a moment.  Fox has identified four pathways to what he calls “Creation Spirituality.”  For more information on these pathways, I’d encourage readers to check out his book, Original Blessing, where Fox lays out his framework.  But for now I’d like to focus on two paths that are immediately relevant to our current discussion.  The first pathway is the “Via Positiva”, and it is the pathway of celebration and awe.[v]  Walking this pathway involves a deep reverence and appreciation of our cosmos with an emphasis on ecology and inter-connectedness.  This pathway will resonate with those who are energized by hiking through craggy pathways on a mountain trail or who become absorbed in the verse of nature writers like Mary Oliver and Thoreau.   The second pathway, which is a necessary connection to the first, is the “Via Negativa.”  It is the path of shadow, mystery, and silence.[vi]  It is the also the path whereby one experiences grief.  It acknowledges that “life is suffering.”

I’d like to suggest that Hilfiker’s emphasis on realism is an important step because it helps us experience the grief of our current situation.  When was the last time you allowed yourself to sit with and become sickened by the experience of injustice and environmental violence without immediately reaching for relief?  I ask this question NOT because I believe that one must flagellate oneself in order to atone for sins against an angry deity.  I ask the question because I want to suggest that we have arrived at a time when we must contemplate our own complicity in the unchangeable (if you buy into Hilfiker’s argument) reality of climate change and the consequences that will inevitably follow).

There are hidden gifts in this process of collective grief, far too many to elaborate on here.  One of these gifts is addressed in the stated purpose of this blog, and that is the possibility of collaboration between theists and non-theists, religious and the non-religious, and all those who defy labels.  If the blue planet cannot bring us together, surely nothing can!  As Hilfiker says in his article, we have the distinction of living at the most important junction in the history of our beloved Earth.  This is both a challenge and an opportunity.  “We cannot hope to get the same Earth back, but we can hope to soften what’s coming.  We can find hope in the process, in the community, in our work together.  These are hopes we can count on.”[vii]

Hilfiker lays out some suggestions on how we can work together to “soften what is coming.”  His ideas are fascinating indeed, but I wonder what you all are thinking.   So what I’d like to suggest is the opening of an ongoing conversation.  In particular, here’s what I’d like to offer up to the community:

 

1.  Take time to enter into silence to consider the world that we’ve created.   Try to remain open to this as long as you are able.  

2.  Share what you are feeling and what you are thinking with this community or with other friends.  Do you buy into Hilfiker’s claim?

3.  Finally, after baptising yourself into grief, begin to think about what it will take to “soften what is coming.”   Are there practices and commitments in your world-view that can help?

In my upcoming blog post I’ll be sharing a project that I’m thinking through regarding the connection between the environment, compassion, and food.  Thanks for your time, and I look forward to a continued discussion with you all!  

 


[i] Matthew Fox, The Coming of the Cosmic Christ, 13-33

[ii] Scott Winter, “Belief in the Pale Blue Dot”, May 11, 2013.

[iii] Heath Skaggs, “Christianity’s Future?”, May 8, 2013

[v] Matthew Fox, Original Blessing, 35-117.

[vi] Matthew Fox, Original Blessing, 132-157.

[vii] David Hilfiker, “Hope in an Environmental Wasteland” (see footnote 4 for link).

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ImageBryan Gillette lives with his husband, three rescue dogs, one crafty kitty, and his mom in the mountains just outside of Asheville, NC. When he’s not situated in the midst of frequent awkward social scenarios, he takes great pleasure reading Merton, spending time with family (both two and four legged), British comedy, and in the contemplation of nature. Although he has always felt like a religious “outsider”, he will soon be trying his hand at Chicago Theological Seminary. (“May God bless her and all who sail in her.”)

Land Locked…

Brett Gallaher —  April 30, 2013 — 3 Comments

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As a child, when people spoke of God the Father, I frequently envisioned King Triton from The Little Mermaid. A father, who loved his children dearly, was ferocious upon provocation and who more often than not was prone to helicopter parenting. And I certainly identified with Ariel as the daughter who felt her soul was… restless. There was an inexplicable more, something far beyond the atmosphere calling my name. I believed my life would never really be mine, unless I found my place to walk in the sun. With that longing, came the notion someone was waiting for me and my voice was would save them.

There’s no good way to explain such intense desire. But what can I say? I was young and I really liked The Little Mermaid!

Little girl dreams, however, get crowded out by the sharp scream of reality. As a teen I discovered that precocious behavior which once endeared me to strangers was now wholly taboo. I attempted to resolve the dissonance between my natural self and various socially acceptable versions of me. Like many others, I traded in my raging, ineffable hunger for the stale satisfaction of survival.

Last year I commenced post-cult trauma therapy. For years I’d lived under regulations thrust upon me by parents, teachers and spiritual leaders. Little of my life came from my own conviction. So I dipped a toe into what I considered possible “heresy” and questioned some of my faith. I found myself engaging in conversations about the problems with Christianity. And I repeatedly paused at the thought that freedom was abdon’t know what to do with it.

Occasionally we spout platitudes like “live and let live.” But that requires an allowance of freedom extended to others which I suspect the church at large does not support, since we more often speak of freedom as the potential for too much of a good thing. Those of us steeped in religion know freedom wears a warning label: “use with discretion”. We fear going too far and falling down that proverbial slippery slope.

Yet we yearn to be freed from limiting confines around our hearts.

Too much freedom is difficult to measure. Every sect has their own idea of which beliefs and behaviors are non-negotiable. Should any of us exercise a little too much, it might very well mean our mortal souls. 

That’s what I feared–losing my soul. As I began to exercise freedom, I worried about losing my Christian status. I wondered if I would “go atheist” or become agnostic (as if my life would be over). While I zealously reached for freedom with one hand, the other hand prepared to fan the flames of my eternal damnation.

I bit my lip and prepared for the demons to descend. They never did.

My first freedoms? Embrace Eastern medicine, study open theism. Entertain the idea of neither hell nor heaven.  Attend a church where the pastor thinks God may not know “everything”. Date who I love. Swear like a sailor. Be me without apology.

Along the way, I did realize who I am and what I need. I refined my definition of salvation and pulled away from much of my previously “Christianese” behavior. Then it hit me.

I had no previous comprehension of freedom or what it was good for.

True freedom is the dispensation to fall. It is the permission to hold more questions than answers. I submit to you that freedom goes far beyond the license to do whatever we selfishly desire—it is instead living more by faith and less by fear.  

Freedom accepts our religious beliefs cannot save us. There are far too many versions of truth for any one person to get it right. So freedom is the great sigh of relief that we don’t need to have all the answers and more to the point, perhaps we never will. We are all in the same boat, so to speak.

I don’t know about you, but such freedom dares me to reengage and enjoy my quest for answers once more.

Whether your home is land or sea, I do hope you’ll join me.

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ImageShannon Ashley is the Director of Social Media for We Occupy Jesus. An aspiring writer, she lives the hipster life in Minnesota’s Twin Cities, where it is a well-known fact that nine months of consecutive snowfall is nothing short of fabulous. When Shannon isn’t kicking ass for Wojian pursuits, she’s blogging about spiritual abuse or shopping fair trade to counterbalance her superlatively high consumption of Hello Kitty merchandise.

Follow her on Twitter @jashleyshannon and www.recoveringalumni.com

 

Lex Talionis…

Brett Gallaher —  April 22, 2013 — 1 Comment

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Friday evening, Americans let out a collective sigh of relief after suspected Boston Marathon bomber, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, was captured. As the nineteen year old Chechen was on his way to a local hospital due to severe injuries from a shootout with authorities, the debate over his fate was already in full swing. In a country that has recently endured such tragedies as the Newtown massacre and a string of shootings coast to coast, many will be calling for justice with a renewed vigor. In many ways, I fear the manner in which we will judge this young man will only serve to reveal how truly far we are from justice. More discouraging still, we will be reminded of how many want nothing to do with justice whatsoever.

Now I will begin by stating the obvious. Dzhokhar Tsarnaev is a terrorist. He is a murder. While the fact he is so young saddens me, it does not excuse the horrific actions for which he is suspected to have carried out on April 15th, 2013. The victims and their families are obviously undeserving of this unspeakable evil that has befallen them. I could not begin to imagine the grief, the anger, the flood of emotions that would accompany such a world-shattering event. Such things often make me doubt the existence of a higher power, a God who would allow such things, who seemingly allows unspeakable atrocities every day like genocide, famine, and natural disasters. But regardless of divine intervention or a lack thereof, we all can relate to an overwhelming desire for answers when such events transpire.

Dzhokhar Tsarnaev will quite possibly be put to death for his crimes, assuming he is convicted. Some would praise such a ruling, proclaiming this boy has felt the full weight of justice. Others will throw their fists in the air in protest of this bloodthirsty system of state-sponsored retribution. Who is right? What is justice?

“An eye for an eye”, aka Lex Talionis, is still the rubrik by which our social conscious measures balance and order. Those who oppose the death penalty are not immune to this standard. The same men and women who march in opposition to the perceived tyranny of the machine, the systems of power that rule over us, are the same men and women who envision a day of reckoning, a day when the powers that be will finally be cast down in shame. Deep down, many of us feel there are those who will reap what they sow, and we are not ashamed to wish this upon them.

After all, is that not the essence of justice itself?

This concept has lived a long and bloody life. Jesus of Nazareth, a naive and somewhat idealistic first-century Palestinian Jewish rabbi (perhaps who have heard of him), offered up an alternative to this redundant cycle of retribution.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth. But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.” (Matthew 5:38-41).

Whether you count yourself a follower of this man or not, ask yourself a few questions. Does retribution bring peace and healing? Does it bring new life? How does paying back wrong for wrong, an eye for an eye… how does this separate us from a terrorist seeking revenge? How easily can we rebrand our evils as justice? Is murder now up for interpretation? Is violence not violence if the majority votes in favor?

If Dzhokhar Tsarnaev is put to death, what does that accomplish? Will we be any closer to understanding what brings someone to commit acts of terror? Will we feel more secure? Will the true evil behind such motives be exposed? Will this safeguard our future? Will we become more humane, more civilized, more evolved as a species? I doubt it.

Instead of seeing justice through a lens of paying back those who have wronged us, what if we could look this evil in the eye and say:

“I am nothing like you.”

“I do not wish to resemble you.”

“I am everything that you are not.”

We must begin to see our own roles in history as a new antithesis to the status quo. But how? I do not pretend to preach to those who are suffering. These are questions we must ponder in our hearts. What is beyond debate is the immediacy of the crisis. We must let the question drive us, challenging us to respond to injustice with mercy and a newfound courage to resist evil in all its subtle forms.

They say another world is possible, but are we willing to build it?

Happy Easter

It’s About Time.

Brett Gallaher —  March 27, 2013 — 3 Comments

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This month I played pallbearer for the fourth time in a little over a year. I grieved with family and friends as we all came to terms with the fact this world would never be the same. The most recent funeral was for my cousin, a sweet mother of four. She was only nine years older than myself. So young. Too young. She had her whole life ahead of her. It really made me think. It made all of us think.

From the beginning I was always consumed with the idea of time. In Sunday School I would asked, “How was God always around?” I’d asked, “How can Heaven last forever?” Eventually I took an existential step backwards. I focused on the more pertinent issues like how much longer until I could get my driver’s license, or how much longer until I graduated from high school. Sometimes I’d retreat back further. “How much longer until this class is over?”

For me, life was always about waiting. Nothing is exactly how it should be at the present moment. Something was missing. Something was incomplete. Life came to represent something I had to get through, survive, endure. What was there to cherish? Who wants to be a kid? Who wants to bum money from their parents? Even after my teens, who wants to work at a dead-end job forever? Who wants to pay these minimum payments on credit card bills forever? Who wants to scrape by? There has to be a better future, a better tomorrow in the horizon.

As a Christian, it was engrained in my psyche from a very early age that “one day” things would all work out. After all, that is the Christian hope, is it not? One day all will be made right. We will find our purpose fulfilled. We will have all that we need. Nothing will be lacking. While this hope would appear to be an optimistic one, it has a troubling side-effect.

A certain procrastination of the soul.

Many take the Christian hope as a free pass. Heaven is forever, so there will always be enough time. Whatever doesn’t get done during this lifetime will be satisfied in the hereafter. We get to catch up with our loved ones. We get to finally resolve our bitterness. We’ll finally be able to forgive everyone who ever wronged us. We’ll probably live next to their mansion anyways (and why should we stay mad? We’re in a mansion).

My adolescent preoccupation with the concept of time caused me to develop a certain anxiety about eternity. I simply could not find peace about it. Eternity? No. I’m sorry. Way too long. It was almost unnecessary. I mean, 1 trillion years of anything is terrifying. Actually, ten thousand years of anything would be plenty eternity for me. After that, blow me up. When I came to realize I didn’t want eternity, it made me slowly come to understand our mortal fixation with the afterlife. Why does humanity demand more than this life?

We don’t feel we have enough time.

There’s never enough time. One hundred years doesn’t seem long enough. Eternity is way more than enough. I suppose we’d rather have more time than not enough time. I think that if we entertain the idea that this life is all there is, we’d have to get off our asses and actually change things. We’d have to take a long look in the mirror. Some would find a certain freedom emerge, while others would see the prison they had constructed. What would you do if today was your last? Scratch that. What would you do with twenty more years? Is that long enough?

The beauty of our life is that it is an opportunity. It is an event. It is happening now, not later. Later is just “now” happening later. Play with your kids. They are kids now, but tomorrow they’ll be a little more grown up. Hug your spouse. They need your affection now much more than tomorrow. Mend that broken relationship now, or you may miss a fleeting miracle.

Get up. Live. It’s about time.

Big News…

Brett Gallaher —  February 27, 2013 — Leave a comment
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