So a part of me wishes I could just pretend the last two posts never happened. Kind of. BUT I WILL RELEARN
WRITING TO WRITE. … HOW TO WRITE. … huh?
Today, I’m almost afraid to say what I’m writing about…
Well I’ve started reading the Bible, because I picked up a book off the bookshelf (my favorite part of the whole house) by C.S. Lewis, in defense of Christianity. Or maybe it wasn’t so much defense as simple explanation. Anyway, it intrigued me, because C.S. Lewis’s writing is oh-so clear and simple, and if anyone’s going to have my ear when talking about something as tich-y (I think I made that word up) as religion, it might as well be the man who infused my childhood with Christian symbolism. I mean, this God figure? He’s totally a rip-off of Aslan. That’s all I’m saying.
(Don’t get mad at me. My family wasn’t allowed to ‘influence my religion’ due to the divorce settlement. I was raised more-or-less areligious (another word that doesn’t exist, apparently), or as areligious as you can possibly be growing up in the U.S…. primarily Utah.)
And, no, it wasn’t a straight shot from Lewis to the Bible. While I found Lewis’s essays (I know, I should remember the name of the book, or look it up or something…) to be at times amusing, well-thought out, at times even logically convincing or just downright creepy, the first book I gravitated towards after putting him down was Living Gnosis: A Practical Guide to Gnostic Christianity by Tau Malachi, because my mom bought it for me a few years ago and I’ve always had this niggling sense that Gnosticism is kind of nifty.
At the same time, thanks to a friend who throws books at you with NO SENSE OF RESPECT FOR YOUR READING LIST’S BOUNDARY ISSUES, I started reading Ishmael by Danielle Quinn and The Mystique of Enlightenment – The Radical Ideas of U.G. Krishnamurti, and in the span of about forty-eight hours (…don’t inquire into my life right now, there’s nothing going on), all I can say is that…
My brain broke. Talk of enlightenment unlike any I’ve ever read before from Krishnamurti made me feel queasy all over. (I’m the living embodiment of an existential crisis. That seems like it should be an ironic statement somehow but, please remember, my brain is broken and I can’t figure out how it would be.) There’s this feeling that he’s talking about nothing, and about how thoroughly useless it is to talk about nothing, and this feeling that he’s just kind of sitting there, EXISTING, while all these fanatics keep hounding him with their ideas of enlightenment even though he keeps saying the search is pointless and… I need to take a deep breath. It makes me uncomfortable.
Ishmael is badass, because it’s a Gorilla teaching a human how to save the world. It’s an absolute pleasure to read (if you don’t mind a book entirely made up of teacher-student dialogue) and it offers the most radically unique interpretation of the story of Adam and Eve I have ever heard… which I… really cannot summarize right now. That, combined with weird bits of interpretation in Living Gnosis that have me scratching my head (I don’t remember that in Genesis and I’ve read Genesis), and the fact that my waking hours for the past two days have been ENTIRELY CONSUMED by these books (and a little bit of Fat Man on Batman)…
Did I mention that my brain is broken?
Anyway, yes. I am now reading the Bible, or at least, this clunky teen-study Bible that my boyfriend has left over from his Christian days. Coding, writing, and everything else has pretty much halted because a life-long fascination with religion I thought I had buried got sparked while I was innocently perusing my bookshelf.
…My bookshelf is dangerous.