God contemplates another journal entry

Look at those humans, so like sheep, so like lemmings… (note to non-spatial self, time to create new similes) and yet I have an affection for them. But as one ready-tongued wag said, “They flounder like huge conger-eels in an ocean of dingy morality.”

Morality, oh that word—bearing itself aloft like some unassailable satellite, distant, impervious to questions of context, always usurping its own purpose—suddenly in the room tweaking ears, twisting noses, condemning, bullying, then up and away it flees before cross-examination.

Morality, always wearing the capital M., like some pantywaist security guard believing himself a chief constable. Morality: the necessity that sunders; the scaffold that buckles; the temple that falls–all that artifice causing all that harm.

I mean I was staggered to see the harsh miles taken by the Hebrews when all I suggested was a careful inch. What a Levitical mess. Wish I could remember who said, religion is basically guilt with different holidays. I’d like to have tea with her.

And then come the Christians, codifying their own liberty; eat, don’t eat, drink, don’t drink, believe these articles, not those, pray this way—on this sacred day…geez, such anal-retentiveness.

Yes, fine, for the sake of growth, there’s room here. Like another somewhat merciful hack I occasionally appreciate said, “Of course it’s okay, in fact it’s necessary to designate times, places, and things holy. It brings to consciousness and stamps our cells, our elemental memory matrices, with coordinates through which we can seize on and incorporate a reality. And this reality can then be continually coaxed and transcribed onto the cosmos entire.”

But growth is the thing…if morality is the thing, growth stops. How hard is that?

Apparently it’s hard. It’s like they’re addicted to division. All those titles they keep coming up with, denoting all thier "believing" groups. An ID for every ideology. A theological prescription, for every biological function.

Like some kind of Pharisaical hang-over or haunting, they go about defining themselves through the exclusion of other groups. I recall Jesus getting up into the face of the Pharisee’s, telling them that while crossing sea and land for one convert, they end up making him twice as much a child of hell as them. Got to say, that was some Hebrew hutzpah.

Let’s be honest, I mean just between the three of us, in all our endless days, did we see that coming? People (maybe sheep is accurate enough here) so frightened by radical freedom they find themselves compelled to out imitate each other’s jurisprudence until a new round of scapegoating produces a fake calm and security for new faux group. It’s a death march I need to detour.

Well—since I can’t get over liking the lot of them—if they need a fence, I’ll let them have it. But at the same time I’ll make a big hole in it. I’ll trick them into finding, again for the first time, the freedom that is already theirs. I’m clever that way.