Purpose

Another day has come and gone, and my journey is no closer to completion than it was this morning. I went to work, danced a familiar dance, one I have the nagging suspicion just about everyone in our society is dancing. Living the routine, talking the talk, laughing at the jokes, punching the clock, rushing home to care for the kids, do the chores, flip on the TV and vegetate until bed. Some kind of wonderful.
If I had a purpose would things be any better? Maybe I would go through the routine with more vigor, more zest. Would it make things better? More substantial? Would my purpose be anchored in tangible reality - would my purpose really matter? Some how I don't think so, at least, it may matter to me temporarily, but in the breath of time, everything, even my purpose, turns to sand. Well, that's how it seems from here. Perhaps past the grave things will look different, a new enlightened perspective. Then again, maybe the decomposition of our bodies provides a meaningful insight into the idea of meaning. Perhaps meaning is meaningless, a frail illusion resting on a will to live. At times awareness seems to be the greatest curse of all - awareness of oneself leads to a sense of need, desire to live, to survive. That desire is inevitable self-centered and has a strong tendency to lend itself to selfishness, from which so many vices and sins arise. I think that all sin can only be seen as acts of selfishness. Or is that so? What of the kind soul that lies to protect innocents? Could one really resolve the subtle nuances of it all? So, for general intents and purposes the root of sinfulness is selfishness. So, self awareness is the root of sin. Could the Buddha be correct? Does the drive for purpose rest also in self-awareness? I think that is obviously the case. I guess the deeper question is, why do we have self-awareness? Where did it come from? Did it evolve, or is it god given? If there was a clear, definitive answer to this life would certainly seem a bit clearer. One could move on without uncertainty, purpose could be defined or responded to with determination void of doubt. I envy those who simply believe, or don't believe, and are content at that. The constant questioning, the searching, is at times exhausting. On the one hand, how one understands life and eternity can be fraught with peril and ultimate tragedy. On the other hand, the search for meaning is only meaningful in a temporal, pragmatic way - with no universal or reality defining consequences. Oh, what a choice! Honestly, I would love to return to my christian faith, if, if I could be convinced that it is true again. I don't see that happening anytime soon, but I am open to it. In contrast to that, I have recently come to terms with my post-christian state, my loss of belief in the core theory of the church. In consequence, having lost my faith I have lost my sense of meaning, my sense of direction and purpose. At first this was disconcerting. At this stage I am learning to accept and embrace life as it appears - in all its glorious meaninglessness. Meaning seems to be derived from our experience and perception - conditioned by limited natural, internal responses to external stimuli. I am always amazed by my cat. He eats, sleeps, plays, licks himself, and not much more. And he doesn't seem too upset by that. He, as far as I can tell, isn't worrying about having a career, making a name for himself, getting on the sports team, owning a new car/house/boat/TV, or even about tomorrow. It seems to me that he has an enviable ability to live in the present moment. I suppose that if I got into his itty bitty mind I would recognize similar emotions as us, happiness, fear, anger, boredom etc...but I don't detect any trace of a sense of purpose, or a need for one. I suspect there will still be a sense of self - perhaps not as desperately aware as us - but a sense all the same. So maybe self-awareness is not the epitome of evil, perhaps it's a damaged sense of self, or misguided sense of self that is at the bottom of suffering and sin?
Interesting, Jesus pointed to relationship as the cure for selfishness, Buddha turned to oneself. I think both understood the problem with intense insight, and although apparently different in approach they worked on the same answer. Through loving community one can find wholeness, value, purpose, and meaning. Firstly, community with God, who is himself pictured as community (read trinity), brings healing to the individual, thus enabling one to enter freely and confidently into community. Community provides a sense of safety and acceptance, value and meaning. Buddha sought to heal the individual as an individual, but also recognized the necessity of community. Refuge in the Sangha is an integral part to Buddha's program of self-healing. Through self-healing, one is able to extend the fruit of that healing, compassion, to the community. It is interesting that even the Buddha's progam of self-salvation depends heavily upon community. The Dharma is shared via community. The Sangha is a place of refuge, and compassion can only be extended in community. The theory underlying each of these great faiths may differ, but the tangible experience of both draw the individual into community, and only there does the individual find satisfaction. True, healthy self-awareness can only be realized in community. Virtues are only virtues in the context of relationship. This (wholeness in community) may not answer the questions of meaning and purpose, but it can lead to contentment and peace.

Zoroastrianism and christianity

Has anyone done any research in regards to Zoroastrian influence on Christianity? I have come across some things, usually by accident, that suggest that some important christian doctrines - such as a coming messiah, heaven, hell, and final judgement - have their origins in Zoroastrianism. I have not taken any real time to follow this up but think it could be interesting. If anyone has any resources (web-based preferably), or any comments for discussing I would appreciate it.

Individual - Alone

Loneliness overtakes me. My heart pounds me awake, my breath just out of reach. The quiet cry of my soul deafens me - I am alone. I am a slave.

The room slows to a timeless waltz as my lungs drink hungrily. The horror of the moment passes and I lie awake, alone, with the sudden illumination of the damned. A lie and a mockery is all that I have, all that I am - my dreams have long sense faded beyond the reach of my prison and apathy has overtaken me.

I lie alone, surrounded by society, in the shadow of my family. No longer spinning, I see my room for the cageless prison it has become. The movements of the day begin, conversations are had, and still my loneliness is complete. I am what I am made to be, my choices the concession of my jail. I dress, I eat, I drive to work - lives pass me by - I return to bed alone beside my wife.

My loneliness is that no one knows me. My despair is that no one cares. My sorrow is that I have enslaved myself and surrendered my dreams only to find that I am alone. Each step, each breath, is only to carry me closer to my final rest.


Life is lived in community, but in a society driven by the ideal of the individual, it is tragically easy to find oneself alone. Surrounded by society, in the mass of humanity, no one seems to care beyond the superficial rub that affects ones own life. Precious are those rare relationships that touches the core of the individual and unites it in community. The highest of ideals, the purist of morality, can only be expressed, only be realized in community - the tragedy of individuality is that it leaves each of us alone. And those few that seek true community find themselves standing amidst the masses, arms outstretched, the only response the hurried bumping of individuals racing by, seeking themselves in the barren island that is their life.

Mice in a Maze

There are times when, in reflecting on my life and observations, I really marvel about how blindly we wander this earth, always moving forward, looking and at times not looking for something we know not. It makes me think of lab rats in a maze, being tested or taught by an invisible scientist/doctor. The mouse is driven, I presume, by the scent of cheese or food. The mouse at one level knows why it is going forward, yet at another level, does it really know why it is there? The smell of cheese may be obvious, but what is less obvious is why the cheese is hidden from the mouse? How did it get into the maze in the first place? Why is it in the maze? What happens once the mouse finally gets the cheese? Still the mouse runs on, sniffing here and there, climbing this, squeezing through that. Does the mouse stop to question the what's and whys of its little existence? Or does it just run, happy to run blindly through the maze chasing that temporal goal of cheese?

Am I a mouse in a maze, or worse, a trap? I exist, and I run, although at times I sit and rest - but always I get up again and run, trying to find my way through the maze of streets, relationships, dreams, and fears. Why am I here? How did I get here? Is there a purpose, or am I just running blind? Any answers I seem to find lead to more questions, and too often I don't know what questions I should be asking. Why do I even ask questions, why not just run? Why do I care? Questions, questions, questions. I turn left, turn back, climb over the wall and squeeze through the hole - I'm going, I'm coming, but where? What is the point, and again, why should there be a point? Why should I ask, why should I know - and how can I tell if I do know?

"To know unconsciously is best.
To presume to know what you don't is sick.
Only by recognizing the sickness of sickness is it possible not to be sick.
The sages' freedom from ills was from recognizing the sickness of sickness, so they
didn't suffer from sickness."
Tao Te Ching

A Rant

Come out, come out, wherever you are! Alas, it seems that we can cry out for days, months, even years, and yet all that will meet us is silence. Where is god? Why is he so silent? Especially in light of the incarnation and sending of the holy spirit? Was not god intending to draw us closer, to open us up to fellowship with himself? Was Jesus not the Word? Why so silent, so hard to get a straight, agreed upon answer on such vital topics as nature of god and salvation - even who Jesus was/is? If Jesus was to draw us to the father, why has this not happened?
Oh, you say, because of us! Because we are sinful! Because we choose wrong! Well, wasn't the gospel supposed to fix that? And if it is because of us that god is so silent, then what value does the gospel offer? If I draw near by my efforts, then again, did god actually do anything?
Sometimes it seems that christians want it both ways. God does/did the good, but I/we do/did the bad. Or put into context. If I discipline myself in scripture reading, doing good, reforming my habits and thoughts, and in prayer - whatever good comes from that is god doing it. If, however, I fail to discipline myself to those things, whatever bad comes from it is my fault. So, if I do it and its bad, that's my own fault. If I do it and its good, that's god's doing. If the gospel is supposed to save me, why doesn't it? I am the same person after salvation as I was before - the difference is that I am aware/accepting that I am not really a super good guy after supposed salvation, and in response I begin to work on things. Having been made aware of the problem(s), I work on the problem(s). But the effort is mine, the intention is mine - but the credit is gods? Basically, god helps those who help themselves. It's actually not a bad sentiment, and rings closer to patristic synergy than modern evangelical double-speak salvation talk.
True this is very rough, even crude - and I am speaking only in generalities. Probably most christians would not say things as bluntly as I have here, but if you listen to them for a short while, you will see rather clearly that this is the gist of it. Where is the holy spirit?

I have heard it said by evangelicals (and I must admit, have said it myself) - how can you say you love god (or anyone) and not spend time with them (prayer/devotions)? Not a bad thought, except, why don't I notice god spending any time with me? Oh, he is in the still small whisper, that incidentally in my need I cannot hear? Oh, he is invisibly present? Wow, what good is that? Is he talking with me? Spending time with me? Not that I can tell - and you can say I am not listening, but I have spent years trying to listen. Of course, one can argue that god spoke once in the incarnation of Jesus Christ - but considering the consistent, deplorable theological battles and disagreements one can possibly see Christ forshadowed by the tower of Babel - what was to unite ended in disunity, the confusion of the world.

Alas, my rant must come to a close - duties call.