The Sun Giveth, but the Son Taketh Away

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The Sun Giveth, but the Son Taketh Away

On behalf of life-giving stars and other natural wonders everywhere, I'd like to take this opportunity to tell humanity to GIVE THE UNIVERSE A LITTLE MORE CREDIT!

By insisting on living inside of your (admittedly tasty) box of Make-Believe Crunch, you are being robbed of the nourishment and satisfaction that comes from discovering the true beauty and mysteries of this universe. 

With a full schedule of masses now back in swing, I've been noticing just how tragic the worship of God-in-man's-image can be. I can actually see it happening. I think the "food" that now sustains me is triggering parts of my brain that enable me to witness a wider spectrum of reality.

I still haven't figured out a good way to prepare the nasty critters (I'm not even sure whether they qualify as plant or animal). But I've taken to calling them meebarats. I've tried frying them, steaming them, baking them, broiling them, grilling them, and even smoking them, but nothing makes them taste any better. And I sure as hell am not about to try one raw. The blood drifters are no help in this regard. (I think I have become their entertainment.)

Anyway, the tragedy of religious faith is now plain for me to see. The more people pray and focus on the scary fairy tales, the less color they carry with them. I watch vivid hues drip like wet paint from their auras. It's all I can do to keep from mopping up during the priest's sermons.

I enjoy stories, believe me. They can enrich our lives and help us understand ourselves and everyone around us. But when stories replace facts and critical thinking as the ultimate guiding lights of our existence, they become the thieves of human potential.

In that way, stories can become our oppressors. We give ourselves permission to ignore the facts in exchange for the salty sweetness offered by a pretend reality, even as the world around us crumbles.

Watching the willful ignorant now either makes me get angry or laugh hysterically. Sometimes both. 

Thankfully, the blood drifters continue to supply much-needed diversions in the form of sounds from their reality. So I leave you with another recording. This one came from the hallway that leads to the priest's sleeping quarters. Despite all of the pounding, he didn't wake up. I guess Jesus gives his believers more than just blinders.

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Follow the external link to hear Fresco's recording.

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