Tonight one of the grand traditions of American culture will repeat itself once again. In the morning it will spread its wings. In some homes you will see abundance magically transformed into shared treasures. In some it will be to excess and in others it will resemble what we read about in “The Gift of the Magi”, often the conditions will be the same but the impulse for sharing anything beyond the cold touch of objects will be missing. In many cases the objects will be missing too.
America is some kind of a Christmas gift for some. It seems to be a Christmas gift for those who will not share and also for those who don’t celebrate it. I understand perfectly why people don’t believe in God. I’m also glad I’m not like them. I have the benefit of having encountered God and there can be no mistake about that should one be that fortunate. For those who aren’t really motivated to that end or lack the perseverance required, it isn’t my job to do the work for them.
Finding God isn’t the same thing as learning how to play the guitar. Learning to play the guitar is not easy. I’ve seen all the ‘would be’ guitar players and writers and artists. I’ve seen why people have to settle for second best or less because that is what they gave. Finding God is a lot harder than playing the guitar and I would be a much better guitar player today if it had been my priority.
People bitch about their lives yet fail to put what’s necessary into it in order to make their lives worth living. They bitch about their companions and those who did not become their companions; the one’s they longed for and the one’s they failed to impress with their lack of passion and it never occurred to them that maybe they should have wanted them more. Maybe their love should have been a little more intense. God is like that and less easy to impress than the heiress down the street is by the boy from ‘down in the boondocks’.
When I see people with marginal intellects and small accomplishments get all puffed up like a pigeon in rut about how there is no God I just have to smile. I love it when people who are, in the words of the Bible, “Blind and naked” and unable to change the color of one hair upon their head except by cosmetic agency... I love it when they use the benefit of their few years in school and little learning since to expound upon what they haven’t a clue about. It makes me laugh. I’m laughing right now.
I love watching people like Donald Trump with his hair, Paris Hilton with her classy style, Larry King in his James Dean bomber jacket and George Bush doing a poor imitation of Paul Newman... I love watching these people. I look at them. I look at the clock. I look at them. I look at the clock. Clockwatching doesn’t bother me because time is irrelevant but for these... oh... time is not irrelevant at all.
If none of these people believe in God- and I submit that they do not- all protestations aside- then why do they all go around behaving like a bad imitation of God? Is it that splendor thing about God that bothers all the peacocks? Is it that 8th sephirah? You’ll note; if you had any wit that that is the path assigned to what you call The Devil.
I have the benefit of knowing absolutely that there is a God. I know it for a fact. I am more certain of that than I am of the world I am presently embodied in. I assure you that the actual splendor of God far exceeds anything you could possibly imagine and bears no resemblance to the mimicry practiced in the various manifest kingdoms.
Self-acknowledged intelligent people like to point out inconsistencies in the Bible. Well whoop de do... What’s the Bible got to do with God? What’s a road map got to do with an actual highway? It’s still not the highway pilgrim. And what if the location is off road? What possible good could a Bible be unless it was written into your heart; or did you miss the point about the blood?
We’ve got some blood religions on this planet but they have nothing to do with God. The same people calling out the name of God while dressed in finery- stepping over the bodies of those trampled on- are the same people who crucify the God they call out to.
You’re smart enough to catch that? Hmmmm... that must mean there’s no God. Before I start saying that something isn’t I would first be expected to define what it is. Who are more people going to be thinking about a hundred years from now... you, or God?
So, you’re all self-reliant and brave that you can face black eternity with your faith in nothing. That’s just swell. Is there a particular reason that anyone should care? Isn’t that your affair? Go for it.
The thing about the people who throw the baby out with the bath-water is that they often throw the baby out regardless of whether it is in the bath.
I don’t love God because I am supposed to. I don’t follow religions and I break the rich man’s laws every day. I love God because God is that part of me apart from the presentation and skilled or less skilled ability to get in or out of other people’s ways here in the darkness of the material realm. I love God because it is the eternal resting moment of that which set me forth and gathers me in.
I dance with witches who are unaware of what they are and with those who claim to be and know jack shit about real Wicca. I’ve been in graveyards when Smashan Tara appeared and if you weren’t mad before you were after.
Everyone talks a good game about this and that; “I went to war.” I worked hard.” “I love my country.” “I’m important.” “I’m influential.” “I’m pretty.” “I love God.” “Godamn it listen to me.” Everybody talks. They get all misty eyed about their deodorants and their therapists. They get kissy-faced about people they can’t stand. They lie and pretend and put a good face on an ugly lie and they just don’t understand why you don’t love them with their garish rings on their fat fingers and their faces that bleed like a burning painting every time they are moved to cry about how unfair life is to them.
God isn’t anything like that. You’ve been told how to find God but you won’t do it. You’d rather be all intellectual about shit you’ve put two or three weeks into. It’s because you never suffered for the things that you should have that you will most certainly suffer for the things that you did. So go ahead people... jabber on about what you have no more experience of than words in a book you read between the time you last thought about fucking somebody and the last time you thought about fucking somebody else. The strangest thing is that the desires on both sides of the desire you don’t exercise are the same desire only it is just enough to make you a bad guitar player.
It’s all too much like the film, “The Last American Virgin.” It’s a flawed film and the fact that Gary was gay might have had something to do with it except he didn’t play one in the movie. But when he walks into the party at the end and sees’s Rick kissing Karen after he just paid for her abortion- that Rick made necessary and then dumped her- and is carrying the etched heart in his pocket... you’re thinking God’s like that, because you think you’re Gary and you’ve got no clue about God. All you know is how you’ve treated others. God’s not like that... you’re like that. THAT is the difference.
Don’t go describing or denying God according to what you know about yourself and the world. When you do, the God you fabricate is you. We certainly don’t need any more of those... just pick up a newspaper or turn on the TV.
Let the love be born... it’s a long way between the discovery of life’s most precious jewel and a Calvary somebody already walked for you. You’ll be tough enough when the time comes to see that nothing more is required of you.
'Spread Your Wings' is track no. 1 of 11 on Visible's 2001 album 'God in Country'
Lyrics (pops up)