Sometimes, there is a quiz.
The Universe, it says,
Do you love me?
Nature makes a pact
With us, it is a fact.
It wonders,
Do you love me?
Over all the time
That has passed on earth;
Good and bad have been done.
Humans haven’t treated
Each other in the best way.
And our planet has suffered.
The earth tries its best
To fix the many disasters
That humans have created.
And the poor, the hungry,
The homeless, the lonely,
All say, do you love me?
What does it mean to be spiritual? It’s hard to pin down, really. Is it abstract? That would include ideas and emotions. Is it religious? So many people have gone to a lot of trouble to distance themselves from that term, fearing legalism and hypocrisy. Is it the heavenly realm? That would leave out humans, or wouldn’t it? Is it supernatural? Same. Can animals participate in the spiritual? I would guess that would depend on what version of spirituality one subscribes to. Are some spiritual things more real or more true than others? Is there some overlap? There certainly is some overlap in subjects, and, therefore, content. The same terms are used in more than one creed. Are creeds spiritual, or religious? And what about music? Some believe that all music is spiritual. Does it depend on the lyrics? That seems superficial. Does it depend on the subject matter? Or whether it quotes from a holy book? Are all holy books equal? Aren’t religious institutions the keepers of the holy books? That sort of complicates things a bit. More questions than answers, unfortunately. But that is better than assuming one knows all the answers.
It’s a part of me,
My personality,
My sexuality,
Individuality.
I am unique,
The way God made me,
The way my parents raised me,
The things I’ve discovered
Along the bumpy way.
There’s no shame
In being this way—
Just because it was
Never mentioned in church,
Or school,
Or at home.
Even the basics
Were not taught.
Trial and error
Was my only way
To discover my body,
To find out
What it means
To be human.
To experiment
Inside and out,
To pop those bubbles
Of misconception,
Perversion of religion,
Crucifixion.
Distance grows
In the reflection of sunsets,
Deep in the pupils of your eyes.
Around your bright blue irises,
The once clear white
Is streaked with bloodshot,
And the skin on your cheek
Sags with the gravity of age,
And the weight of worries,
Long forgotten,
Though carried still.
What happened
To the happy-go-lucky girl
That I married,
Experimenting and experiencing
Life to the fullest,
Young and fresh and free?
Oh, those were the days:
Going on long walks together,
Holding hands.
Staying up late at night
And into the morning,
Just talking.
Intoxicated with each other.
Yes, that girl is gone,
But in her place is a woman,
Stronger, braver and wiser.
A more confident and courageous
Caretaker and leader,
Someone who takes risks.
Weathered by suffering and loss,
But soft and loving to the end.
A much improved confidante,
A loyal partner,
A treasured friend.
…
I was about twelve years old when my parents divorced. I was an angry teenager, and my mom, whom I lived with, was quite depressed. I used to send her into a rage on a regular basis. Although she was never tested or diagnosed, I think she has bipolar disorder, like me.
…
One night, I said something that enraged her. I ran to the front door, unlocked it, and ran outside. I was in socks with no shoes, and it was raining. I kept running down the sidewalk for several blocks, crossing streets and running through intersections. Finally, I arrived at my friend Curt’s house.
…
Curt was a police officer who lived next door to a close friend of mine, Brian, and his family. Curt was a severe alcoholic, who liked to listen to rock music well into the evening, blasting away on his stereo, and smoking his Marlboro menthol lights. He also had pornographic magazines underneath his sink in the guest bathroom.
…
Curt never locked his front door. So, when I came running up to his house, soak and wet, I just went right in. Curt was sitting naked on his couch, drinking beer. He only wore clothes at home occasionally. It was Miami, Florida, so the weather was hot. Curt had his sliding glass back door open, so his dog, Noel, could come back and forth to his backyard.
…
I told Curt what happened, crying. He hugged me and held me, and told me “You’re okay, you’re right here.” Curt always kept Pepsi in his fridge, ice cream and chocolate in his freezer, and barbecue Fritos on the kitchen counter. I helped myself, and soon I was feeling better.
…
Curt let me calm down and listen to music for a while, then he gently suggested I call my mom to let her know where I was. My mom would usually scream and yell over the phone at us, demanding for me to come home immediately. Curt would then put on some clothes and drive me home.
…
Curt was raised in the Catholic Church, and served as an alter boy when he was little. His father was violently abusive, and when he was a teenager, one night, after watching his father beat up his mom, Curt threw him out of the house. Curt looked after his two younger brothers and his mom until he and his brothers moved out, one of his brothers, Mike, serving in Vietnam.
…
Curt married his wife, Linda, but one day Curt came home from work to an empty house. Linda had left him and took everything. My friend Brian’s family helped him with a mattress to sleep on until he could get some furniture. Curt used to pay me to mow his lawn when I was in middle school. I spent many hours sitting in his living room, listening to rock music on his stereo.
…
I eventually went to Florida State University in Tallahassee for college. Curt’s brother Mike had moved to Tallahassee for work, so Curt came up to visit. Curt decided that when he retired, he would have a house built in Wakulla, just south of Tallahassee. Curt moved up here, and settled in. Curt and Mike attended an art and poetry exhibit that I had in the student union.
…
When Curt was a police officer, he fell off a roof, and he fell down a flight of stairs. He hurt his back and his knees. Curt didn’t believe in doctors much, and he couldn’t afford surgery, so he took Advil all day long, every day. When he got older, his back or knees would occasionally go out, and he’d be bedridden. I’d take him food, go grocery shopping for him, and nurse him back to health. It was very meaningful for me to get to care for Curt, after he had helped me so much.
…
Curt didn’t have much to say about God. He didn’t like churches or pastors, and he believed the Bible was just a book written by people, like any other book. He knew I always went to church, as did my friend Brian and his family, so he didn’t say much about it. One time the Vienna Boys Choir came to a Tallahassee church to perform, and Curt went with me and my wife, Jackie, to see them. He really liked it. He had always wanted to have children. It just didn’t work out for him.
…
One day I hadn’t heard from Curt and he wasn’t answering his phone. I asked Jackie to ride down to his house with me, and sure enough, Curt had passed away. I had no regrets about Curt. He was always supportive of me and hospitable to me and my family. I saw him as a good person who had a rough life and just didn’t fit in.
…
I don’t know if Curt went to heaven, but he was more loving than most church people I know. I think his heart was in the right place, and he is in some type of everlasting peace. He may have lived as mostly an agnostic, but I like to think he went to be with Jesus.
…
I believe that the wealthy have a responsibility to share their wealth with the less fortunate.
I believe that the government is in a unique position to manage the collection and redistribution of wealth to the less fortunate.
I believe the government has a responsibility to protect the vulnerable from the powerful.
I believe the government is in a unique position to regulate big businesses and keep them from becoming too powerful.
I believe the decision about birth control and abortion should be made between a woman and her doctor, because it is first of all a medical issue and until a baby is born it is part of a woman’s body.
I believe the government is in a unique position to protect nature and creatures, regulate big businesses use of natural resources and protect endangered species from the abuse of the greedy, powerful and wealthy.
I believe in diversity, equality and inclusion with regard to race, religion, sex, gender, nationality, ethnicity and age. I believe that these differences should be protected by the government and helped to thrive and multiply.
I believe the government has a right to tax its citizens to provide the services it provides, and that everyone should pay their fair share to make sure the government has the funds it needs to work the way it should.
I believe the government should provide medical care free of charge to everyone.
I believe the government should care for the elderly when they reach fifty years of age. The government should provide a pension and unlimited medical care to the elderly.
I believe education by schools, colleges and universities should be provided by the government for free. I believe health care and education are human rights that should be supported and protected by the government.
On a cool morning in the Tallahassee, Florida suburbs, Amy is walking her cocker spaniel, Sunshine, along the edge of the street. There are no sidewalks in front of the houses, but the vehicle traffic is light this morning. It’s a Tuesday, around 7:00 a.m. As Amy and Sunshine approach an intersection with a major street, a man comes around the corner walking his dog, a terrier mix. Just as Amy is about to look the other way, so as to avoid eye contact, the man says, “Good morning,” with a smile. Amy is taken aback a bit, but she doesn’t want to appear rude, so she replies with a “Good morning,” back. But she feels a bit nervous as she comes closer, and decides to turn around and run home, Sunshine running along with her. As she closes the front door to her house, bends down and unfastens Sunshine’s leash, Amy thinks to herself, I know it’s common for people to greet each other in this town, but something just didn’t feel right.
Life flowing from my heart
Is cut down by rivers of doubt.
The rushing water wears down
My early oaths and affirmations,
Slowing my faith to a halt.
My simple plan to ditch the man of the gospels,
Runs into blockades along the way.
Nests of love, peace and grace
Call me away from my solitary journey.
I sometimes fight the current,
Or allow myself to rest,
But naturally I am carried away
By the fantasies and delusions
Of my silly imagination.
With a battering ram strapped to my forehead,
I push through the glistening walls of the great cathedral.
But for what?
Has this victory won me anything of value?
After all, the war has already been won by my adversary,
And this stub in the toe is no big loss to him.
My screams in the darkness win me no favors,
Gain me no pity, although he may shed a tear.
Shall I continue to throw stones through stained glass windows,
Knowing I am only hurting those I love and who love me?
Whom am I fighting, anyway, if not myself?
Reaching out.
Waves crashing,
At my feet.
Love crushing
The air
Out of my lungs.
What is to be
Expected
From my great God
Next?
Joy is pulling out
My fingernails.
Peace is knocking me
Unconscious.
What can I give
To board the train
Going up the hill?
What can I say
To bring mercy
To my body
And soul?
Grace
Is beating me
To a pulp.
Jesus,
Save me
From your church!
Save me
From society!
The powerful
And the rich
Hover above
My bleeding body,
Like vultures.
How can I escape?
Stumbling along the sidewalk 