This Nonsense Makes No Sense

nonsense

A conscious Stream Of Unconsciousness

This nonsense
Makes no sense
It has no scents
But I can sense
With my nose
It does have no-no’s
Cuz the nose knows
But the ayes have it
Real ayes
To realize
With real eyes
Eye see
That what I see
Is so icy
When there’s chaos in the bedroom
There’s bedlam in the chaos
You say this guy
The sky’s in love with you
With Lucy and this guy
And I
Having this treat
On this street
Just the three of us
A three-way on the freeway
But the freeway isn’t free
I’ll do the freeway my way
Its my way or the high way
Getting high on the skyway
With Lucy in the sky
But this guys in love
In love with getting stoned
Getting stoned alone
Need to take out a loan
So he can keep on getting stoned
Stoned for all his days
Puts him in a daze
Dazed and confused
I am not amused
I am a muse
For you to use
Or abuse
You choose
Who chews
Whose who
And who brews
Who gets bruised
From being abused
I won’t tell
About the sins you sell
While in your cell
Now I’m going to Hell
In a hand basket
With a basket case
but just in case
I’ll case the place
Right at home
The funeral home
The seller is in the cellar
And I’m going down
Downstairs
To greet the stares
The icy stares
Of what I see
I see stairs
Icy stares
I see dead people
Like in The Sixth sense
That make no sense
What nonsense
Makes no sense
This nonsense

The Imagination Generation cooks, or Culinary Revolution For The Hell Of It

revo

Food glorious food, We’re anxious to try it. Its what’s for dinner, whether cool as a cucumber or easy as pie we love our food. Food has been essential since time began. Without food the world would be full of nothing but vegetation soaking up the sun’s energy creating oxygen for no one. But as it is we have a symbiotic relation with vegetation. Animals (including us) eat the greenery, digest it, then return it to the plants as composted food for their roots. So we all benefit from the cycle of life because of the cycle of food. Food has always existed even finding its roots in the garden of Eden. Yea, the forbidden apple the iSin that was as they say the fall of man. More like the rise of man which is why so many of us get hungry after sex. Food has had major impacts to the growth an development of all life, especially humanity. Whether it was chewing the leaves of tree’s or the capturing of some animal we survived on food. Food was so important to our development it can be attributed for the creating of societies. We formed tribes to both procure and protect food sources. With the advent of the agricultural revolution food became power. Whomever controlled the food controlled the masses. Humans learned to grow vegetation at will, capture and herd animals for milk and meat, and create warehouses to store food. At one point food was worth more than money. Why in ancient times you could by a chariot polo team for a few cases of wheat, a six pack, and a cow. Brothels accepted loaves of bread for making it rise and it gave cause for a new phenomenon arose, thievery. With people stealing food from one another and beating each other up or killing for food an important new force needed to be created. The police force formed in ancient Athens where the policeman were paid in what else? Donuts. The police eventually evolved into armies which as Napoleon so eloquently put it, marches on its stomach. He reportedly always hid a taco inside his coat which is why so many photos show him apparently holding his stomach. But that was then this is now, and now it costs a lot of money for a small amount of food. But we pay it because not only do we need food, we friggen love to eat. Home or restaurant, no difference, bring on the food.
Why do we love to eat so much? Properly prepared food can fill us with a plethora of wonderful emotions which is one reason we love to go to restaurants. What is a restaurant? Originally the French term for restoring it referred to the hearty soups that were said to restore ones health. What a great concept, a place to sit, eat, and converse in a Nice setting. Or was it Paris? Whatever, the concept gained ground and a new industry was born. Forks and knives, chopsticks, or fingers, food was bought prepared and served the world over and Auguste Escoffier took it upon himself to develop recipe systems and a set of basic tenets for cooking. That was the late 18oo’s and those laws stood firm for almost a century. Red wine for meat, white wine for poultry or fish (Pick your Poisson). Everything served within the lip of a plain white plate. Everything was standardized right down to the size of cooking utensils. This worked well for many years until a new generation grew up and took over the sauté pans. The imagination revolution was about to break the restaurant industry wide open.
Like most of my generation, I colored outside the lines on purpose. But some of us took it even further, like coloring the tree’s blue instead of green, or making the sun magenta because the word on the crayon looked cool. I was particular to periwinkle myself because I not only did it look cool, the name made me chuckle. It was one of the only crayons that made a daily appearance in the cheesy crayon sharpener on the side of my 64 color box of Crayola. That was the first known instance of thinking outside the box. We were the generation that would stretch the limits of imagination like silly putty, make it bounce around like a superball, and allow it to take flight from balsa airplanes, to water pump rockets, all the way the flying saucer Frisbee. Our entertainment was just as far out, with uncles who are Martians, talking cars, nose twitching good witches, and pretty genies in bottle seemingly common place events an acceptable. We even let our imaginations allow us to believe that a movie star on a three hour boat tour would bring an enormous change of clothes, and once stranded a professor could invent everything on a deserted island except a workable raft. Our minds were open and free and TV opened many dialogues on previously hushed or taboo subjects like racism, drugs, and the all time favorite, sex. It’s the generation that looked to the moon and said lets not just look at it but lets go there and find out if there really is any cheese, let not have a small concert lets have a festival for half a million. It was only a matter of time before some of these new forward thinking creative out of the crayola box coloring kids would grow up an become chefs of the future. Ha Ha.
And we did. The first thing the rebel imagination generation of cooks did was disregard all of Escoffier’s rules. No disrespect sir, your shit was incredible, but we are in the age of culinary renaissance and it was up to us to disregard the rules, deconstruct everything that had been done for so many years and color outside the roasting pans. Sauté the red snapper, throw in some shallots and fresh thyme, hit it with some pinot noir and deglaze. Finish with a touch of fish stock , pinch of cream, and spoonful of raw butter and man oh man you have one tasty ass snapper with a buerre rouge. Red wine and fish?? Blaspheme! We broke all the old rules, decorating our plates with fresh herbs, making wines work with anything, rare duck breast, barely cooked or half raw foods, crunchy veggies, nouvelle cuisine was taking its stand against the old strong brigade system of cooking. Women washing the pots and pans? Bullshit ladies, come on inside the kitchen and show them what kick ass chefs you are. The old regime cringed, knocking the cigarette ashes into their sautoise pans. Sacrebleu, what are zose crazy long hair chefs doing? And what kind of cigarette is zat they smoke? Sorry Charlie, but revolutionaries only want the best tuna, served mostly if not entirely raw. Salads took center stage as entrée’s with hot meats served over them. The imagination generation turned the culinary industry on its pigs ear. Sweetbread day in the morning we kicked some ass back then!
Now I watch proudly as a new generation of rebel chefs begin to take their place in culinary history, sustainable food systems, farm to table programs, and molecular gastronomy are the next new wavers an they have been doing a tremendous job. Women have made their major impact on the industry an in an ever evolving world its up to them to keep our interest in dining, not just eating. Personally I think the industry is in great hands, hope its no0t just my imagination

Empty Anointment

false

A bright shining halo of burnt orange light
I Turned my eye to escape its sharp glare
Entered the shrine of the illustrated windows
Looked around but found nobody there

Prayed for the light to shine and enlighten
Begged someone for a real show and tell
Just needed a message that I’m not by myself
Negotiate the stairways of heaven and hell

I sensed near a presence indignantly stern
Stood frozen after I felt the piercing glance
Felt a harrowing figure of my non redemption
With his deep voice pounding he broke my trance

“You shall wallow in shame and inferiority
I’ll strike you down just prove superiority
So stand here trembling amongst the minority
Or concede to my flock join the moral majority”

“Come forth to donate and cleanse your reputation
Return every Sunday and seek divine reparation
The cost of enrollment will pay for my vacation
Mercy and damnation harbor no discrimination”

I stood and stared with nothing to say
The false prophet had spewed out his lies
Promises made on the mist of the fog
Liturgical vestments were just a disguise

“It’s from your imitation I need to be saved
Integrity seems to have snuck out the door
You fill up my cup with deceitful betrayal
Discouragement burns from each little pore”

Undaunted he towered across the artificial alter
Confidence flowing rapid across the River Styx
With great condescension he laughed in my face
His sacrosanct words from a mere bag of tricks

“Kneel before me I’ll free you from despair and distain
Grant you enough individuality to clutter your brain
It may cause you to ponder you’re rational mind
If you seek redemption then join my campaign”

It wasn’t redemption that brought me inside
No need of sanctuary or someplace to hide
It was mere curiosity that brought me the question
Don’t need to anyone to validate my indiscretion
False ecclesiastics can grow like a cancer
I need only look in myself to search out my answer
On the shoulders of angels the devils they fought
Praise him or fear him the difference is naught
It isn’t the redemption you’ll find in the end
In communion of life we will finally transcend

The Existential Bakers guide to breakfast (and other food related nonsense)

exiguide

What is The Breakfast of Champions, Wheaties or the philosophy of Kilgore trout? Wheaties, the breakfast of champions is a crispy wheat and bran flake that was the result of an accidental spill, much safer than the spills of Exxon, BP, or Chernobyl, but more in line with the legend of “Hey, you got chocolate in my peanut butter.” With Wheaties, the self proclaimed champion, some wheat bran mixture fell onto a hot stove and formed a handful crispy flakes that eventually was converted into a recipe. Unlike the chocolate peanut butter legend this Battle Creek legend is true. But that’s about as exciting as it gets though, a rather non descript cereal flake, not frosted, puffed, honey nutted, or multi-grain, just a simple boring flake that floats in milk an cries out for sugar. Not much of a champion! Kilgore Trout on the other hand is a incredibly interesting character developed by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. in many books, most notably The Breakfast Of Champions. Kilgore is a profound thinking science fiction writer of such nail biters a s “Venus On The Half Shell“; which alone makes him more worthy of the title IMHO. Much more interesting than the boring bran but unfortunately Kilgore can’t cook very well and half shells are about the extent of his culinary knowledge. Not a single thing to do with food. So where does that leave me? To this unrelated and frankly unnecessary quest for some of the most fundamental culinary queries such as which came first the chicken or the egg, are cucumbers really cool, can man live by bread alone, and most importantly, are we what we eat?
As it applies to food EB is the self crowned clown prince of cupcakery. Ergo, the Existential Baker’s answer to most queries is let them eat cupcakes. But that would be a self fulfilling and stomach filling prophecy. There are far more profound question at play here so let me get started. So which really did come first from an existentialist bakers point of view? In an attempt to avoid questioning the intentions of the chicken crossing the road or putting all the eggs in the same basket I developed an experiment. While at brunch this past weekend with a friend I gulped down my first mimosa then ordered a chicken salad for myself, and and egg salad for my guest. Now I wait to see which comes first. To my dismay, they arrive at our table simultaneously on the same tray, so I could only conclude that neither the chicken nor the egg arrived first.
How is this possible you ask? Well if instead of messing around with salads if I had ordered a bowl of primordial soup instead I would have found my answer. Primordial Soup is a delicacy in this era an a recipe passed down from more generations than one could imagine. The very first bowl of Primordial Soup, depending on which book you consult, was served up some three and a half billion years ago. At that time solar cooking was all the rage, and quite frankly the only available form of cooking. Not to get too technical, like most soups it begins with a mirepoix, the basic onion, celery, carrot, except this soup has a base of carbon .nitrogen, and potassium, lightly sautéed in ultraviolet and seasoned with various forms of sodium. Once these elements are translucent copious amounts of hydrogen is added and its allowed to simmer for a few million years. Once the soup is done its serve on a warm tectonic plate and served hot, much unlike revenge. The key to the significance of primordial soup is that during the simmer process an egg gets formed, and by the time the soup is fully done the egg is hatched and come out a fully cooked chicken. So from a strictly technical standpoint, it was the egg that came first, however it was the chicken that was the firt to leave the soup and walk out on its own. Whew, glad that’s out of the way, now on to the coolness of the cucumber.
Cucumbers are by nature a phallic shaped vegetable and the butt of many jokes. Joy toy look alike aside even before it had sexual reputation it was known for its coolness. Before it was cool it was used strictly by hipsters but only ironically. But what exactly made the cumber of cue cool? Well to begin with, its in the gourd family, infamous for their lack of sanity as in “Out of ones gourd”. How cool is that? But there’s more, the cool cucumber hangs out with the veggies but is in fact a fruit. Yea the sneaky cucumber has fooled grocers for generations who insist on placing them with the lettuces. These luscious garden favorites have been around since ancient Egypt and used as an anti swelling agent by early Roman soldiers. Not cool enough? Well what else do you know that gets sliced then placed on supermodels eyes to just hang out? Yes indeed, the cucumber has been cool ever since its mention in a poem from the 1700’s that stated, I am as cool as a cucumber, could see the rest of womankind. Cool!
So two myths explained, time to explore mans (or woman’s) ability to live on bread alone. While bread is indeed a food often eaten at Staples as well as being a staple food its nutritional value is relatively limited. If one opts to live only on the bottom of the food pyramid then one would survive for a period of time, but bear in min a pyramid is actually an ancient tomb and the antagonist of not too good schemes. But if you insist you will perish from malnutrition and all the carbs and gluten would make you unpopular in modern culture. Of course its not physically possible to live on bread alone but that’s taking it out of its original context anyway. The question arises in the bible when Jesus states man cannot in fact live on bread alone, but the J man always spoke in metaphors and was not a nutritional expert. Can one live without spiritual guidance? That’s the jist of the phrase as it was meant in the Bible and on that note I would have to answer no, man cannot live on staples alone he or she needs some form of profundity in their lives but not necessarily religion. If its religion you want there are a plethora of choices ranging from downright bizarre (cannibalistic or exo-planatery rituals) to the chanting monks with nothing to say. But organized religion is not needed, you merely need to use your imagination. Mediate, pray, or just communicate with life and you will have something of substance to go along with your emotional bread. Or bread an chocolate, that works too.
This brings me to my final culinary query for today, are we in fact what we eat? Well I’d imagine if it could reason a dung beetle would object to a simple yes and it’s a bit more profound than saying something ridiculous like “What am chopped liver” because that’s what you had for lunch. We are what we eat to a degree, without proper nourishment we would perish so by extension the healthier our food choice are the healthier our bodies will be. But as expressed previously we do not live on bread alone, and nourishing our bodies is essential but so as well is nourishing our minds, our souls. Eat healthy and go to the gym and your body will look good, but learn and experience, enjoy and smile, and you will feel good inside and out. Imagination is exercise for the mind and the more exercise you get the more muscular your brain will become, and the opposite sex digs big brain muscles.
Feeling good is one of the reasons we have foods that aren’t the healthiest choices but taste so damn good, like bacon, French fries, Doritos, or yes, chocolate cupcakes. What they lack in nutrients they make up for in endorphins that come rushing out of our pickled pituitary glands when food makes us feel happy. Foods such as cupcakes (shameless plug) release hormones in our brain that just make us feel good all over. But keep it in moderation, we should balance our feel good with our look good.
Beyond food there are things we ingest mentally that hold just as much significance as food. Take music for example. For me, rock and roll I like the powerful multi-vitamin of the brain. I personally love classic rock, which I suppose is like taking Centrum Silver, but it makes me feel good. Music is like soul aerobics, it makes us dance, or sway, it gives us words to think about, or draw emotion from, and it just plain feels great. Music nourishes the soul. Along with music, poetry, books, theater, and education are some other metaphysical foods that make us what we are. Digest as much as you can, read, feel, experience. They may not give you the body you want but a consistent diet of culture (no not yogurt culture) will help you attain the brain you’ve always dreamed of. Maybe that will be my next Niche. I’ll make a video called “A Healthy Brain In Three Weeks With The Existential Bakers Mind Diet” Maybe even spin off into “Brainweight Watchers” or “Cortex90 Hippocampus Fitness Workout”
So to review existentially, it doesn’t really matter which came first you still need to break some eggs to make a chicken omelet, if you keep chill you will be as cool as a cucumber, don’t put all your bread in one loaf, and if you really want to be healthy feed your mind and your body. Above all, excersize your imagination and challenge your mind always. Peace

Soul Tattoo

soul tattoo

Deep behind my eyes
Beneath the plastic smile
Deep into the abyss
Down to my soul
A mural of pains
And pleasure internal
Scar tissue streak the walls
Etched in emotions of color
Retelling the travesty
Of life trails
Tattoos on my body
Whisper tales of honor
And carefree times
Tattoos in my soul
Scratched deep underneath
Speak fabled lessons
Learned at hard knocks
The scars tell my tale
But they’re my scars
My soul tattoos
And I show them with pride
Before the fall

Tattoos of my soul
When you look into my eyes
Deep in the black hole
Images of torment and ecstasy
Mark the tattoos of my soul

Memories good or bad
Happy or sad
Etched into my soul with life ink
Scars day to day
Proudly on display
Pain and elation amassed at the brink

With every wrinkle that haunts my face
The crows feet and the tracks of my tears
A painting emerges from all the crying
A mosaic drawn from my strength and my fears

Torment has a certain style
Bliss can be vile
Together in a rainbow of commotions
Moments of triumph
laughing defiant
An endless mural of jumbled emotions

I’m the sum of my past
From first to last
Bearing the scars of lessons learned
At times I’m nefarious
Others gregarious
Each an every tattoo has been honestly earned
With every wrinkle that haunts my face
The crows feet and the tracks of my tears
A painting emerges from all the crying
A mosaic drawn from my strength and my fears

When you look into my eyes
Deep in the black hole
Images of torment and ecstasy
Expressed by the tattoos of my soul

FEAR NOT

poet

Fear not old friend
The horizon is close
Discomfort at its ending

Fear not old friend
Soon you will see the light
There’s no more to be defending

Fear not old soul
You’ve passed the worst there is
The relief comes from the waiting

Fear not old soul
No answer is needed
You’re through with your contemplating

Fear not old man
You’ve completed your time
Once its over you’ll feel so warm

Fear not old man
The moment has arrived
What’s left is for you to conform

Fear not gentle soul
Close your eyes and relax
I’ll pick you up to let you fly

Fear not old friend
Allow me one last chance
One last moment to say goodbye

Peace

Old Man Young Man

oldyoung

Old Man
I can see the ravages
Of misdeeds inappropriate
Neglected reflections
The overuse of opiate
Taking a toll

Young Man
Comes a time you know
Of transgressions bearing weight
Misfortune in your bones
Filling your heart with hate
Taking on the world

Old Man
Mesmerized with panic
Enterprises bear such heavy burden
Neglecting your repentance
For a life lived so uncertain
Of who you are

Young Man
One day you’ll wear his shoes
Be the one who owns the pains
Owns the hurting every day
Wondering if what yet remains
Is worth an effort

Old Man
Now’s your time to pay
They remember little of the good you’ve done
Curse your mention at their table
Then burn your image in their sun
Until it ends
Until it ends

Who Am I

who

Once I was a lover, a hater a friend
A beggar a bandit my shoulder to lend
A father and brother even a son
I cheated and lied tried to save everyone
Cleaned or cooked whatever the chore
Did what was needed to even the score
A loser abuser of every drug I could find
A kind hearted servant dulling my mind
I’ve been so many people I can’t keep it straight
I’m forever on time or I’m early or late
But who am I now’s not who I was then
Constructed destroyed and built up again

Conceived out of love

Born of distress

Scolded and beaten

A gentle caress

A work still in progress

Script still unwritten

Running for decades

Twice shy and twice bitten

Once I was a lover, a hater a friend
A beggar a bandit my shoulder to lend
A father and brother even a son
I cheated and lied tried to save everyone
Cleaned or cooked whatever the chore
Did what was needed to even the score
A loser abuser of every drug I could find
A kind hearted servant dulling my mind
I’ve been so many people I can’t keep it straight
I’m forever on time or I’m early or late
But who am I now’s not who I was then
Constructed destroyed and built up again

So who am I now

Who was I before

The sum of our parts

In a revolving door

The whole of ourselves

Half the battle I’m told

Is what we become

Before we get old

Once I was a lover, a hater a friend
A beggar a bandit my shoulder to lend
A father and brother even a son
I cheated and lied tried to save everyone
Cleaned or cooked whatever the chore
Did what was needed to even the score
A loser abuser of every drug I could find
A kind hearted servant dulling my mind
I’ve been so many people I can’t keep it straight
I’m forever on time or I’m early or late
But who am I now’s not who I was then
Constructed destroyed and built up again

Motion gets slower

Limbs they grow weak

Thoughts way too foggy

Can’t get enough sleep

The show must go on

That’s what I hear

The suns going down

And evening is near

Once I was a lover, a hater a friend
A beggar a bandit my shoulder to lend
A father and brother even a son
I cheated and lied tried to save everyone
Cleaned or cooked whatever the chore
Did what was needed to even the score
A loser abuser of every drug I could find
A kind hearted servant dulling my mind
I’ve been so many people I can’t keep it straight
I’m forever on time or I’m early or late
But who am I now’s not who I was then
Constructed destroyed and built up again

A Festivus Visit (Twas the night before….)

night before

 

T’was the night before Festivus
When all through the house
No computer was working
Not even with the mouse

The stalkers were hung by their necks with such care
In the hopes that the end of their peeping was near
The children ate Nestles they,d snuck in their beds
And bounced off the walls banging their heads

Mom in her sexy teddy straddling my lap
Had just bound my hands with a Festivus strap
When down in the kids room there arose such a clatter
Got dressed and untied to see what was the matter

Away to the window I flew like a flash
Dropped my baggie of weed losing my stash
It fell on the breast of the new fallen snow
I watched as my reefer was falling below

When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear
A hallucination of eight tiny reindeer
With a leprechaun in red so lively and quick
I knew in a moment my eyes played a trick

A rainbow of unicorns his coursers they came
He yelled at all eight as he called them by name
Yo Bashful yo Sleepy yo Doc and yo Sneezey
Hey Dopey and Grumpy and Happy and Sleezy

He opened the dresser where Mom hides her thong
Now dash away dash away and put back my bong
Then in a twinkling they all climbed up on the roof
A sled full of presents, this must be a goof

As I drew in a big toke and was turning around
I opened my hand my bong dropped to the ground
The dude dressed in fur from his head to his foot
Was laughing so hard and he was covered in soot

Bundles of medicinal buds were on top of his back
Just like a drug peddler he was carrying a sack
His eyes how they twinkled and dimples they sank
His cheeks red as roses yet his stare was so blank

His droll little mouth drawn up like a joke
His hair on his chin was snow white from some coke
The stump of a chamber pipe he clenched in his teeth
Second hand smoke circled my head like a wreath

He had a big broad face and a little round belly
I aired my first grievance and said he was smelly
He was also too chubby that right fat old elf
And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself

With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
He rolled a sweet fatty he’d bought from a dread
He spoke not a word but played his big Festivus role
In the middle of the room placed an aluminum pole

With a feat of strength placed a finger to his nose
An sniffed up more coke through a dollar bill hose
His grievances he aired till his team blew the whistle
And feats of great strength had broken the thistle
But I heard him exclaim the illegal drugs out of sight
Happy Festivus to all, and to all a good night

Enjoy whatever holiday you celebrate and take time to smile an share some love
PEACE

Existential for Death

eyes

Existentialists are so often misunderstood, even by other existentialist. They are not nihilists or anarchists, nor are they atheists. Existentialism is a philosophical belief not a faith. Many today are jumping on the ex train because its believed that existentialist are clever intellectuals that speak in profound quotes of some of the more famous existentialists. While most of us are clever, not all of us are brainiacs who sip cappuccinos at cafes and discuss matters of global implications. We are just average people whose beliefs do not fit in to a mainstream belief that we all need a god to believe in and a religion to tell us out how and why. That’s not to say we can’t.
Existentialism does not rule out the possibility of a creator although for the majority if there is a creator its nothing like the one most of us were force-fed as children. No all knowing all seeing god who demands praise from everyone, no angels waiting up in any paradise community after we die. But that’s not to say that some form of energy or entity didn’t have a hand in getting the ball rolling so to speak. For us it’s a little clearer than a magic image in the sky watching to make sure we behave. It’s a cycle of life, we are born, we live our life, then we die. We are in that cycle just the same as every non worshiping living thing on earth. I can’t prove this but I firmly believe bacteria do not worship any pathogen gods or pray in any amoebic temples yet they live the same cycle we do. The bottom line is everything lives, everything dies. If we view it in a strictly linear form then all of existence is in a line, like a time line where we have a starting point and ending point and all people and events in our timeline intersect at various points. Our lives are Point A to Points unknown. We all accept that others lived before us, and others will live after us, and in every religion death is an accepted stage. However temporary, whether it leads to paradise, another life, another stage of existence, or pure nothingness it happens to us all. What occurs after death we tend to disagree, but death is imminent.
Accepting that makes it no easier to live ones life and like anyone else existentialist fear not death per say, but are more intrigued by the mysteries surrounding it. Only in death will we find answers. I was born into a Catholic family, raised as a Methodist (a matter of convenience for my parents), but told my true roots are of a Jewish heritage, so its no wonder my religious faith was so confusing. I doubted the existence of the god I was taught at a very young age so to help sort it out I studied many religions. I adopted many Buddhist philosophies and principles because much of it made sense. I did not however adopt any of the ritualistic behaviors because to me structuring faith makes faith void of integrity. If I need to follow a ritual then I am merely a copy of someone else’s belief. To me joining a specific religious society forces one into a clone relationship. If there is such a thing as soul or spirit it comes from within.
Religion is described as an organized collection of beliefs, cultural systems, and world views that relate humanity to an order of existence. That makes your religion a random happenstance, an accident of birth not different from gender, or class. I didn’t seek out religion when I was young I was handed a religion to believe in. If my parents had stayed loyal to Catholicism I would have been a catholic, but I was switched to the protestant religion because the Methodist church was near home and more importantly next to the volunteer fire department in which my Dad was the Chief. And according to ancestry.com. somewhere along my family lineage a family was forced to hide its Jewish heritage to avoid persecution and the name was never changed back. The illusion of being Christian gave my ancestors a much needed advantage. Not uncommon, look at the collection of Amish living in Lancaster known as “The Pennsylvania Dutch” A religion of Germanic settlers who didn’t wish to be associated with the German Deutschland so they misled people to believe them Dutch and not Deutsch. With so much switching back and forth, with interfaith marriages and families, how is it even possible for any religion to be the one true one?
Existentialism is relatively simple. Our existence precedes our essence leading us to an understanding that the self is what’s important, that we are merely tiny specks on tiny cogs in a complex universe. It gives us the ability to defy classification, especially when it come to religion. Its what’s in our hearts and our minds that matters. Live your best life, treat others as you wish to be treated, help out your fellow humans when they are in need, share and do not judge how others live their lives. Live and let live. Many religions claim to teach those principles yet they condemn others for their lots in life. Its hard for me to get behind a religion that tells you we are all of Gods children then tells you if you’re gay you are an abomination. Clearly forgetting judge not lest ye be judged. It irks me to see a person on social media claim their love of God and tell me how blessed we are and how we should rejoice in one post in social media, then spew hatred at someone because their politics are different in the next. Unfortunately it seems we live in an age of intense hypocrisy, especially among the holy rollers. Religion shouldn’t allow you to feel superior, but humble. Unfortunately most religions fall far short on the humble. This is the reason most existentialist show distain for religions.
I was born scraping and scratching my way through life and now I’ve reached a point where death becomes more and more imminent every day. One of the cruel jokes of life is when we finally realize how much of living is bullshit we are too tired to live the life we should. We allowed money to be the center of our lives, putting us not in a solar system like every other living thing, but a dollar system in which we all revolve around money. I should stop before I become more like the people I’m ranting about! Damn, looks like my equine ride has been puffing my weed again. Time for me to get own of my high horse. PEACE