Thursday, March 23, 2017

Divine Abuse Support Group



          Divine Abuse Support Group


          The meeting hall was narrow and low; the walls were painted a careful ugly-dull; the air was closed and sulfurous; the seats were too stiff for sleep, too soft for waking.
          Next door was the Lucid Myths support group, where Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy were consoling a weeping Easter Bunny. In this room, a table next to the entrance had a stack of flyers, saying:
         
Have you been given a Job job? Are you working off someone else’s karma? Does your Guide send you on wild goose chases? Have you had one Test too many? Do your ancestors assign you dangerous missions? Is entropy unfair? Have you been promised revelations and Paradise, but instead got commandments and Hell?
          If so, then it’s time for you to wake up! It shouldn’t hurt to be a Being. Learn how to stand up to that certain Someone in your life. We offer seminars, therapy, counselling, meditation, mediation, legal services, safe houses and an All-Temperature Hotline.
          Workshops include “Battered Mortals”, “Unrequited Worship”, “Beyond Submission”, “Overcoming Faith Dependence” and “Covenant Renegotiation”.
          Don’t be a martyr! Instead, call 1-800-286-4637 (BUMGODS)
         
The featured speaker rose to the podium, clasped a microphone in his talons, and addressed his fellow sufferers.
“My name is Satan,” he declared, “and I am a survivor of Divine Abuse.” He glared at the others, as if daring them to disagree; but they just sat there, stunned and stolid. He continued, “A survivor! For he never really loved me. He loved the others more, his images, his flattering reflections, but me? I was too good for him, and too bad. And he was so bossy; always go here, go there, do this, do that; so when he told me, Go To Hell, well that hurt! It really hurt!”
Satan paused. “And it still hurts! It’ll always hurt! Forever and ever and ever, if I have any say in the matter, ‘cause I want it to hurt!”
“I want my pain bigger than the world, for how else can my world be big? What better excuse than grievance? I have been robbed, so I get to rob; I have been raped, so I get to rape; I am a victim, therefore I victimize; I am a slave, therefore I enslave; I am hurt, therefore you must hurt; and so on, over and over, loop upon loop.”
“How dare you say the past is dead? How dare you claim that tomorrow is not yesterday? How dare you suggest that I think for myself? How dare you tell me how to get a life? And how dare you call creation joy?”
His harangue complete, Satan sat, and the others responded with polite preoccupied applause.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

The Damned Beloved, an Underfable



          The Damned Beloved


          Once upon a time, the spirit of a blessed lady entered Heaven. She looked all over Heaven, but she did not find her beloved.
          “Death did you part,” said the Angels in unison, for they spoke as one. “He is in the other place. Go there and suffer with him, or stay here in bliss without him.”
          “But I miss him. I remember him. I love him.”
          “Grief has no place here. So forget memory. Forget love.”
          “But memory is who I am. Love is my choice.”
          “Forget who you are. Forget choice. Be not you, or leave.”
          The lady smiled. She said, “I am I.”
          The clouds parted beneath her feet, and she fell.
          She fell for seven days and seven nights. The harsh cold wind of falling stripped off her feathers, one by one. She crashed onto the pavement of Hell, not far from where her beloved lay, bound in chains.
          He saw her crash, he broke his chains, he rose and he rushed to her side. He carried her to shelter; there he tended to her wounds. Eventually she recovered, and they emerged from shelter.
          Outside they found, not his Hell, but the gates of her Heaven. They flew through the open gates and found no-one there but each other.


          Moral: Love is true Heaven.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Autotheism, an Underfable



          Autotheism

          Once upon a time Ertson the Patrobe thought to himself, “The Gostack distims the Doshes. And surely God agrees that this is true.” Later he changed his mind, and he thought to himself, “Surely God has changed His mind, as I have, and now agrees that it is the Doshes that distim the Gostack.”
          God saw these thoughts. God also saw that the part of Ertson’s brain that Ertson used to contemplate God’s thoughts was the same part of his brain that Ertson used to contemplate Ertson’s thoughts.
God also knew that there is no Gostack, nor any Doshes, nor any such act as distimming.
          Ertson then thought to himself, “Other people agree with me, too.” And God saw that the part of his brain that Ertson used to contemplate the thoughts of other people was not the same part of his brain that Ertson used to contemplate the thoughts of God, or of himself.
          Ertson thought to himself, “God is my moral compass. God points which way to go.”
          An Angel fluttering nearby snarked, “Or You, to him, are his moral inertial guidance, pointing which way he’s going already.”

          Moral: Everybody who’s right agrees with me.