Envy of faith?

So long and so often I have scoffed at faith and those who bear it. So often I have pitied the poor, naive fools who believe in such absurdity, the fairytale bedtime story they take as truth. For we are alone, alone in a world built by science, molecules, matter; existing by accident, not divine intent. This is us, this is all we are: a tiny, miniscule race, insignificant in the subterranean vastness of time and space. We are born, we grown old, we die, and awaiting us is the long, dark dreamless slumber.
But now, though I may never share their beliefs – cannot share them – I envy them. They feel life has meaning. No matter what heart-breaking, soul-shattering event may befall them, no matter how bruised and broken they may become, they can clasp their hands together, cradling hope, look towards the sky and find strength and courage and purpose. Beyond this temporal existence, there is a perpetual light shining, everlasting peace and harmony stretching on through eternity. They have a constant companion, a ubiquitous friend to guide them. And in their dark hours, there is always comfort.
So yes, I envy them. For me, in the late hours of the cold night, as I lie awake in the blackness enveloping me, there are no arms to embrace me, no fire to warm me, no light to guide me. There is just me, me, and the long, dark, dreamless slumber ahead.



I came across this on my harddrive earlier. Pretty depressing eh? Not surprising though, conisidering I was depressed at the time of writing. But dsepite the maudlin overtones, I think I still agree with its main point; I don't understand religion, the whole concept seems implausible, when there is evidence to the contrary to it. Do people really believe that the first two humans were Adam and Eve and they ate an apple which had them thrown out of paradise? Do they have love for the being who told a man to murder his own son, or who tormented Job to win a bet? We'd characterise such a person as sadistic, wouldn't we? Yet religious people - Christians in this case, as it's the only religion I really know enough about to comment on - proclaim this being to be loving and just. I don't see that at all, not in the Old Testament at least. Jesus seems like a sound man, with good ideals. But I don't believe he was anything more than a man ahead of his time.



People believe in the flood that killed the world (another act by that totally loving being) happened, and that God protects them. I don't understand it, I certainly don't share it, but I'll let it be (I don't have anything against religious people, aside from those who use it to justify crime or who try to force it upon others - and hey, athiests can be just as evangelical in that regard). And yet, as in the above extract, I do envy those with that solid faith, because of all the comfort they glean from it.



It may also surprise you to know that I'm not an athiest; I suppose I'm an agnostic of sorts, but my beliefs are strange and I'm not entirely sure of them myself. Might do a post about those one day, maybe it'll help me get them in order.



In the meantime, I'll leave you with this message from Epicurus, another man ahead of his time.

Valentine's Day

I logged onto Facebook and Twitter on Monday, the day of soppiness and teddy bears holding hearts, to find a strange mix of posts decrying dismay for the day, dismissing it as commercial nonsense and exultations of love and how great it was to share such a day with their beloved. Something struck me about this; I could be wrong, but this is how it appeared: the majority of those people writing in the former category were single, the latter, in happy relationships (obviously). Make of that what you will.

I spent many years in that former group. Indeed, the last two VDays in particular were pretty awful, as both years I was dumped just a few days before, having bought cards and presents. And buy the same bloke both years too. But that's another story, and he's long gone now. So I'd never had a good experience of this most flowery of days. Until this year, and I warn you now, the gushing starts soon, so read on at your peril.

It started quite inauspiciously; the boyfriend had gone off to uni and I was in the flat. I walked into the front room around 11 o' clock, expecting, I don't know, flowers? A card? A present? And I found nothing, that is, but a messy room. Feeling somewhat deflated, I decided to go back to bed, seeing as I'm able to do that being the lady of leisure I am (I think the Twitter tag here would be #sarcasm) where I remained for a few hours, must've needed that nap. I ended up in the living room again around 3, not really sure why now, and was probably heading back to bed, when in the boyfriend comes, an hour earlier than I was expecting, brandishing a lovely bunch of red roses.

Are red roses clichéd? Maybe they are, but you know, most clichés are clichés because they work, are popular, or are just the best. And red roses are the best type of flower.

Later I was treated to a sumptuous three-course candlelit dinner cooked again by him, which consisted of baked camambert cheese with home-made garlic bread and chorizo and thyme bread to begin, salmon and leek filo pastry parcels with salad for main, and (get this) bowls of melted milk and white chocolate, with fresh strawberries, raspberries and blueberries to dip. Then he gave me a card and my present.

This was no ordinary present, however. No bear holding a heart for me, oh no; along with his flatmate, he'd composed a beautiful piece of music, which his flatmate had recorded himself performing on the guitar, and my boyfriend serenaded me by singing one of my favourite poems to the music. It was just...wow. We then slow-danced to the music and...well, what followed I'll keep to myself (hehe), but it was truly amazing day. This time last year (and the year before), I couldn't have imagined such perfect romance existed, but it does. And I know I'm one lucky girl.

Paradise lost?

I wish I was seven again. Yes, seven was the perfect age for me; no illness, parents still together and happy. There was the nasty big brother, but can't have everything. Weekends were the best, when I'd willingly be up by 8 o clock (tell me an adult who happily does that?!) and downstairs, curled up on the best spot on the sofa in front of the cartoons and kids TV that makes me cringe nowadays. How I had to force myself to wait till 10 before I could run upstairs and wake my dad, the boiled egg for breakfast in that special little egg cup of mine that turned the egg into Humpty Dumpty.

Life was simpler then, and easier; of course it was, what do you have to worry about when you're that age? I loved those early years of my life, I wish I could rekindle some of that lovely bright joy to now. Every kids deserves those paradisal childhoods, but I'm wondering, are they being lost?

I've seen society change a lot even in my lifetime. Constantly I'm hearing, for example, about childhood obesity, and there are initiatives to improve school dinners and stop crips eating unhealty food. But that's not what's doing it. Of course, there were the fat kids when I was little, but obesity? No, that was something I never encountered. And I think the reason is how we lived. We played, played in the old fashioned way, not exercising our thumbs on games consoles.

I have a friend who's a teaching assistant, and I was incredulous to hear some of the things that go on there. For instance, in the winter, children who didn't have hoods on the coats weren't allowed outside; and when there was snow, they weren't allowed out at all! Preposterous, utterly. Snow is one of those enchanting wonders. You may grow up to loathe the stuff, but it's magical to children, a true wonder, especially when you first encounter it in its purest form. Playing in the snow, throwing snowballs and getting them in your face, and doing it for so long that your hands go numb and you're so cold you want to cry, that's a right of passage. Ok, maybe we can dispense with the last bit, but robbing kids of the childhood magic of the snow?

It's a crime, and unfortunately sums up quite a lot of faults in today's society. But it goes deeper even than the health and safety brigade. It wasn't just in the playground we used to play, but outside in the streets. Every day I'd be out, climbing trees, riding my bike, having the time of life, as it indeed turned out to be. But that's a rare thing these days, and I can understand that; I think right now I wouldn't want my children playing in the streets beyond my sight, and that's because I'd be afraid. There are gangs roaming the towns, child murderers and paedophiles lurking on every corner, even children turning on other children in the most horrific way. Parents are simply too scared of letting their kids out into this dangerous world, they'd much rather have them sitting in front of a TV screen and being safe than risking it. I would be the same, I have no doubt. Whether society has really changed in the two decades of my life, or we're just made more aware of these bad things, I don't know, but either way, how sad is it? How truly sad that this generation of children, and who knows how many more, are going to miss out on all those experiences that I wouldn't change for the world.