Christians pray to gods
Other than their own (Yahweh)
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
09 January 2019
01 October 2018
haiku 1 Oct 2018
Of all who enter his realm
To get smashed by waves
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
To get smashed by waves
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
18 April 2018
haiku 18 Apr 2018
A game of hard discs
Thrown to strike distant targets
Apollo played too
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
Thrown to strike distant targets
Apollo played too
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
03 January 2018
haiku 3 Dec 2018
Roadside shrines abound
Volcanoes scrape at the sky
The Gods’ own Island
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
Volcanoes scrape at the sky
The Gods’ own Island
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
03 September 2014
on mighty Baruna
There is a short ritual that I perform; it's become a habit, something of a norm. I have now repeated it for many years through times that were happy and times that saw tears. When reaching a body of vast salt water I stop what I'm doing, say, “Hello, Father,” then walk to the sea just about far enough that one of my toes gets a taste of the stuff. I try to imagine I'm meeting my dad, and calm myself – feeling not happy or sad – then exchange of water by spitting mine out and taking a bit of sea into my mouth. I swallow it, tasting its salinity, then bow to the brutal but beautiful sea, say, “Thank you, Father,” and go strap on my board, then charge boldly in – always headlong, forward. It was not until I arrived in Bali that I understood to just which deity I'd been so long praying and thanking; soon a friend cued me it to majestic Baruna. He rules o'er the land of the aquatic forces, o'er turtles and surfers, seaweed and seahorses; his gaze never falters; he hears everything; will take a lost child under his sea-wing; will strike now with vengeance, now with perfect calm; does hold every seaman tightly in his palm. To thank great Baruna I find is a must, in him I place volumes and volumes of trust, please join in the habit written of right here and let go of torment and worry and fear.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
26 June 2013
on spider–mothers
For years, I have welcomed any spider into my house who could make her way inside. Instead of killing them or sucking them into my vacuum cleaner, I dust around them and apologize to them if I should disturb their webbing or jostle their young. I fear some of the spiders who live here, as I suspect them of being black widows, but now that I know which boxes they live in, I avoid those boxes. Some of the spiders are jumping spiders, who are harder to track and to appFor years, I have welcomed any spider into my house who could make her way inside. Instead of killing them or sucking them into my vacuum cleaner, I dust around them and apologize to them if I should disturb their webbing or jostle their young. I fear some of the spiders who live here, as I suspect them of being black widows, but now that I know which boxes they live in, I avoid those boxes. Some of the spiders are jumping spiders, who are harder to track and to appreciate because they tend to move around a lot, eschewing the building of webs; others are grand and spindly things who vibrate on their webs upon being disturbed.
I welcome these spiders because they embody Iktomi (see drawing), a First People god who created the Earth by flinging his web over its entire surface. Iktomi also taught humankind about technology; the Internet is one of his greatest gifts. I welcome them also because I gain joy from discovering these my little house-guests sitting patiently in dusty and forgotten corners, and because they catch and eat common houseflies (which I then do not have to chase down with a flyswatter and kill myself). My spider-mothers seem to like it here; they stick around and keep recruiting more of their kin in from the outside. Whereas some people collect cats, I collect spiders, a simpler house-pet that needs neither food nor drink nor rabies-shots. Aho.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
I welcome these spiders because they embody Iktomi (see drawing), a First People god who created the Earth by flinging his web over its entire surface. Iktomi also taught humankind about technology; the Internet is one of his greatest gifts. I welcome them also because I gain joy from discovering these my little house-guests sitting patiently in dusty and forgotten corners, and because they catch and eat common houseflies (which I then do not have to chase down with a flyswatter and kill myself). My spider-mothers seem to like it here; they stick around and keep recruiting more of their kin in from the outside. Whereas some people collect cats, I collect spiders, a simpler house-pet that needs neither food nor drink nor rabies-shots. Aho.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
23 November 2012
prayers to Baal
By the millions this year, during the days immediately following Thanksgiving, otherwise self-respecting Americans of all religious backgrounds, socio-economic strata, and ethnic heritages will dutifully bow before god Baal, the ancient deity of wasteful excess. Featured prominently in the Christian bible's old testament, Baal seduced the children of Israel while they were waiting for Moses to return from the Mount Sinai; within a short time they went from considerate and caring individuals to rapacious, lustful, and greedy cunts hellbent on grabbing, stuffing, wanting, needing, taking. Intended to be taken more as a metaphor than as an historical event, the seduction of the faithful by Baal was so great, and so extensive, that it caused Moses to ruin the first copy of the ten commandments, whereupon he slunk back up the mountain to obtain – from his jealous and spiteful god YHWH – another set.
The seduction continues this year during the celebrations of excessive and unnecessary consumption referred to in the press as Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday. Once again, otherwise considerate individuals will shake off the cruel yoke of frugal moderation in order to buy slightly-newer copies of things they already have, purchase gifts for distant relatives who wanted something else entirely, and generally act as if they were total fucking jerks while racking up personal debt on their credit cards and mortgaging their children's future in order to buy television sets slightly wider than the ones they already have. Once again, tens of millions of self-proclaimed Christians will spit in the face of YHWH, he who demands that all praise be given to him and him alone, he who calls for the death and banishment of those who mock his name, his power, his glory, his and his alone, now and forever. (Failing to follow the clearly-stated directives of one's god amounts to mocking that god's very existence.)
Do these poor fools realize that they're perpetuating the culture of me-first consumerism that is surely and steadily dragging America down into sad oblivion? Do they see the hypocrisy of driving to their churches in gleaming cars while dressed in fancy and expensive clothes in order to scrape perfunctorily before Jesus – a god who urges them to give as much to the poor as they can bear to give and to live their lives in simplicity, humility, and moderation – when in reality they sit in their single-family homes hoarding greenbacks and coveting baubles? Last year's retail sales numbers and this year's sales projections indicate that millions of Americans believe in Baal above Jesus and in consumption above compassion, that they allow advertising firms to dictate their lives, and that they have succumbed fully to the hollow grasp of their black and twisted egos. No amount of talking about this foul erosion of our nation's erstwhile and honorable frugality will make things better; I rail on this blog against these excesses just as my father once railed against them from his pulpit, all but begging his parishioners to choose love for one another over love for self. But, just as his words fell mostly on dead ears, so I feel do mine, woeful warnings wantonly ignored. If people wish to violate the tenets of their religion in order to save a couple dollars, that is their choice; if they would rather give in to the siren-call of conspicuous consumption than nurture in their hearts a wondrous and peaceful tranquility, who am I to say that they are wrong to do so? And besides, when the savings are this good, it doesn't matter if a few more people get trampled this year than last – it just means less competition. Save sanity, serenity, and soul – boycott black Friday!
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
The seduction continues this year during the celebrations of excessive and unnecessary consumption referred to in the press as Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday. Once again, otherwise considerate individuals will shake off the cruel yoke of frugal moderation in order to buy slightly-newer copies of things they already have, purchase gifts for distant relatives who wanted something else entirely, and generally act as if they were total fucking jerks while racking up personal debt on their credit cards and mortgaging their children's future in order to buy television sets slightly wider than the ones they already have. Once again, tens of millions of self-proclaimed Christians will spit in the face of YHWH, he who demands that all praise be given to him and him alone, he who calls for the death and banishment of those who mock his name, his power, his glory, his and his alone, now and forever. (Failing to follow the clearly-stated directives of one's god amounts to mocking that god's very existence.)
Do these poor fools realize that they're perpetuating the culture of me-first consumerism that is surely and steadily dragging America down into sad oblivion? Do they see the hypocrisy of driving to their churches in gleaming cars while dressed in fancy and expensive clothes in order to scrape perfunctorily before Jesus – a god who urges them to give as much to the poor as they can bear to give and to live their lives in simplicity, humility, and moderation – when in reality they sit in their single-family homes hoarding greenbacks and coveting baubles? Last year's retail sales numbers and this year's sales projections indicate that millions of Americans believe in Baal above Jesus and in consumption above compassion, that they allow advertising firms to dictate their lives, and that they have succumbed fully to the hollow grasp of their black and twisted egos. No amount of talking about this foul erosion of our nation's erstwhile and honorable frugality will make things better; I rail on this blog against these excesses just as my father once railed against them from his pulpit, all but begging his parishioners to choose love for one another over love for self. But, just as his words fell mostly on dead ears, so I feel do mine, woeful warnings wantonly ignored. If people wish to violate the tenets of their religion in order to save a couple dollars, that is their choice; if they would rather give in to the siren-call of conspicuous consumption than nurture in their hearts a wondrous and peaceful tranquility, who am I to say that they are wrong to do so? And besides, when the savings are this good, it doesn't matter if a few more people get trampled this year than last – it just means less competition. Save sanity, serenity, and soul – boycott black Friday!
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
14 October 2012
01 October 2012
on changing perceptions
Every day, we get the chance to change our perspectives; every morning, with our first few conscious thoughts, we reshape for ourselves entire worlds, crafting from the aether of the Universe's chaotic jumble the seemingly ordered environments, things, and people to which our brains have become accustomed, all that our minds have come to expect from life. Such is the power of these perceptions, and so deeply ingrained are they within what we sometimes call the psyche, that we convince ourselves of their eternal and abiding presence, of their immutable and tactile realness; occasionally, however, some cursed and lucky few peoople among us step across the boundaries of our commonly-held, consensual hallucinations, mixing old thoughts with new ones and pulling stray bits of Truth from the Great Pulsing Void, from the Ever-Expanding Vastness of That Which Cannot Be Named.
The power of these strange and lateral movements is so great, and so broad are the Insecurities and Fears which buoy the petty and shallow ego, that the person who sees the Truth all too often runs away from his unanticipated and unwanted burden, forsaking an open mind for the rigid patterns of old and comfortable thought and burying his head in shifting and shallow sands, in booze or in sex or in the dim half-truths of his parents' religions. If I could but muster the courage to keep looking into the Truthful Void, if I could but bring myself to stare into the Generous Folds of God's Vagina, perhaps I could free myself from slavery to my small and pitiful needs, from my longing for this substance or that, from self-torment and sadness and pent-up old anger; I am too weak, however, and too spoiled, too pampered and worthless and small, to do any of these things, to rise above what I have been told for is Myself and cherish the Primal Simplicity that burns at the core of my deepest and most mystifying of cores. Oh, dear friend; oh, cherished reader; I am not worthy of the gifts I have received; I shall try harder, though, purging my soul of discontentment and allowing the shadows of this strange and beautiful world to pass me by unnoticed, and undisturbed. Please know that I love you, however, and that I take your sacrifice of time as among my greatest of rewards. Mahalo.
場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit
The power of these strange and lateral movements is so great, and so broad are the Insecurities and Fears which buoy the petty and shallow ego, that the person who sees the Truth all too often runs away from his unanticipated and unwanted burden, forsaking an open mind for the rigid patterns of old and comfortable thought and burying his head in shifting and shallow sands, in booze or in sex or in the dim half-truths of his parents' religions. If I could but muster the courage to keep looking into the Truthful Void, if I could but bring myself to stare into the Generous Folds of God's Vagina, perhaps I could free myself from slavery to my small and pitiful needs, from my longing for this substance or that, from self-torment and sadness and pent-up old anger; I am too weak, however, and too spoiled, too pampered and worthless and small, to do any of these things, to rise above what I have been told for is Myself and cherish the Primal Simplicity that burns at the core of my deepest and most mystifying of cores. Oh, dear friend; oh, cherished reader; I am not worthy of the gifts I have received; I shall try harder, though, purging my soul of discontentment and allowing the shadows of this strange and beautiful world to pass me by unnoticed, and undisturbed. Please know that I love you, however, and that I take your sacrifice of time as among my greatest of rewards. Mahalo.
場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit
15 August 2012
yoga – its power
Self-healing, discipline, inner peace, awakening the animal spirit – all these things yoga brings, and more, so many more that I struggle to find words simple enough to describe its endless benefits. An ancient method for keeping the body limber by stretching out its limbs, yoga is practiced by millions of people around the world, every day. A boon to all aspects of this clumsy and poorly-executed stab at being human, since doing yoga daily my life has improved considerably.
First, my digestive system is functioning regularly and with little discomfort, and I can feel layers of muscle in the area of my core that I have not felt since childhood. Second, my injured shoulders are moving in ways that allow me to perform hours of hard labor every day, activities such as taking down trees and sawing and splitting wood that, without yoga, would be difficult and painful; with yoga, however, the arm-joints are loose and ready for work, popping and creaking nicely as I wind them through my sun salutations. Third, I am bringing my left leg back into such alignment with hip and spine it had before I crashed while snowboarding with improperly-adjusted bindings, tearing its Achilles-tendon. Fourth, yoga gives me something to do that I myself must do, and to which I must give my full concentration, something that must be done correctly and that cannot be cheated, short-cut, or jury-rigged, something that is honest, simple, and pure. And, finally, for the first time since my mother died a dozen years ago, I am building positive connections with that mysterious inner power that some people call god, others the soul, and others the voice of the ancestors, but, lacking a more appropriate term, that I style Tao, that tiny inner voice that is all too easily lost in the avalanche of sensory input coming from tablet, cellphone, listening device, billboard, bus-ad, HD television, and satellite radio.
The individual seeking to lay aside the artificial concerns and demands of this fascinating modern age in which we live clears herself and her mind of self-interested materialism and the need to be speaking constantly by doing yoga. This peaceful martial art reveals within her heaving bosom the very secrets of the universe itself, helping her to live a virtuous life replete with non-acts of selfless honor and enduring goodness, giving her the tools she needs to delve into her hidden deeps and to clear her mind of torment and woe. So broad is its reach, so uncomplicated are its moves, that one can do yoga anywhere and at any time; so great are its benefits that I can hardly imagine how I managed to lead a decent life before I doing yoga daily. (I realize in retrospect that I was living a less than decent life.) As with any activity, avoid charlatans merely seeking financial gain, and learn either from an instructional video or from a teacher whose stated goal is the student's personal betterment, not her own, personal wealth. With yoga, dear friend, life's little torments lose their sting, life's little joys are magnified tenfold, and the secrets of eternity blossom from deep within the glittering folds of mankind's everlasting and indomitable spirit. So quit your bitching, get to stretching, and, as always, keep a song in your heart and your head on a fucking swivel. Mahalo.
場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit
First, my digestive system is functioning regularly and with little discomfort, and I can feel layers of muscle in the area of my core that I have not felt since childhood. Second, my injured shoulders are moving in ways that allow me to perform hours of hard labor every day, activities such as taking down trees and sawing and splitting wood that, without yoga, would be difficult and painful; with yoga, however, the arm-joints are loose and ready for work, popping and creaking nicely as I wind them through my sun salutations. Third, I am bringing my left leg back into such alignment with hip and spine it had before I crashed while snowboarding with improperly-adjusted bindings, tearing its Achilles-tendon. Fourth, yoga gives me something to do that I myself must do, and to which I must give my full concentration, something that must be done correctly and that cannot be cheated, short-cut, or jury-rigged, something that is honest, simple, and pure. And, finally, for the first time since my mother died a dozen years ago, I am building positive connections with that mysterious inner power that some people call god, others the soul, and others the voice of the ancestors, but, lacking a more appropriate term, that I style Tao, that tiny inner voice that is all too easily lost in the avalanche of sensory input coming from tablet, cellphone, listening device, billboard, bus-ad, HD television, and satellite radio.
The individual seeking to lay aside the artificial concerns and demands of this fascinating modern age in which we live clears herself and her mind of self-interested materialism and the need to be speaking constantly by doing yoga. This peaceful martial art reveals within her heaving bosom the very secrets of the universe itself, helping her to live a virtuous life replete with non-acts of selfless honor and enduring goodness, giving her the tools she needs to delve into her hidden deeps and to clear her mind of torment and woe. So broad is its reach, so uncomplicated are its moves, that one can do yoga anywhere and at any time; so great are its benefits that I can hardly imagine how I managed to lead a decent life before I doing yoga daily. (I realize in retrospect that I was living a less than decent life.) As with any activity, avoid charlatans merely seeking financial gain, and learn either from an instructional video or from a teacher whose stated goal is the student's personal betterment, not her own, personal wealth. With yoga, dear friend, life's little torments lose their sting, life's little joys are magnified tenfold, and the secrets of eternity blossom from deep within the glittering folds of mankind's everlasting and indomitable spirit. So quit your bitching, get to stretching, and, as always, keep a song in your heart and your head on a fucking swivel. Mahalo.
場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit
05 January 2012
on gods we praise
Sarah Palin recently made reference to the Statue of Liberty (see here). By doing so, Ms. Palin has given her tacit support to the notion of the goddess Liberty, a deity from times of old whom the American people have adopted fully. Fair and gracious Liberty is not the only deity whom we praise, however – the goddess of Justice, or Iusticia, graces our city seals (see the seal of the borough of Hanover, PA), and we etch her likeness into the stonework of our highest halls of justice (see here). Every time you wear running shoes with a certain swoosh on them, you are praising the Greek goddess of victory, Nike. Our connection to ancient gods runs so deep in this country that even our Declaration of Independence makes the right to Happiness unalienable, a right as often as not personified by goddess Felicitas (or Tyche), the goddess of joy and good fortune.
To utter the name of a god is to give that god power in our minds and in our lives, such as in Jewish rituals, and in Muslim rituals. For example, every time we say the word Wednesday, we pay homage to the god (Wotan, deity of wisdom and poetry) for whom the day was named; on Thursday and Saturday we pay homage to Thor and Saturn (the gods of fertility and of the harvest respectively), deities hailing from separate realms and distant times, gods who still inspire us today.
It is good to have as many gods as you can have on your side, so while you may go to a place of worship and pray to one god, remember that throughout your day you are also sending up praises to the other gods who shelter you under their wings (though you might not realize that you are praising them with your shoes or words, or even that they are sheltering you). Similar to the concept of polyamory (the capacity to be in love with multiple people), the capacity to love and worship many different gods is called polytheism. For an example of polytheism, see the practices of Roman Catholics, who pray to one god when traveling (Christopherus), to a different god when competing athletically (Sebastian), and to a third deity (Gabriel) when working in the postal trades.
There is no limit to the number of gods you can have working for you, or looking out for you, just as there is no limit to the amount of goodness and virtuous action you can perform during your life. Maximize your coverage by increasing your spectrum of gods – you are sure to like the results.
Spes Mea In Ratio Est - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp
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