Cultural Conversation 5 - Spirituality
Assignment 5: Your Experience of Religion/Spirituality
About seven years ago I got the Really Good Job. It was Oilfield Industry work, and it paid well. Very well. I had more disposable income than at any other point in my life. And I disposed of it.
One of the many vices I practiced was excessive eating, even when I wasn’t hungry. As a result, I went from about 250/275 to nearly 400 pounds at my high point. Now, I had worked in retail for many years before that, and by the time I got the Really Good Job, I had worked over my knees like you wouldn’t believe. As a consequence, I was having problems getting up steps, much less anything remotely strenuous. After I lost the Really Good Job I had decided that I would use my COBRA health benefits to get knee surgery. But my Orthopedist said that at my weight, this was probably a very bad idea. So I had to lose weight in a hurry. Then I went to the Gastric surgeon. He said he could help me lose weight; all I needed to do was to get clearance from a psychologist, to make sure I wouldn’t gain back all the weight and kill myself after the surgery.
I showed up at the psychologist’s office with a milkshake in my hand. Needless to say, he didn’t sign the paper giving me his approval, but instead recommended therapy.
I was in therapy for a year, trying my best to get that approval. My therapist would ask me, “Do you want to stop overeating?” and I would reply, “I’m here to save my knee.” and she would reply, “That means you’ll have to change, and stop overeating.” Like I said, this went on for a year.
About this time, my Dad had to go under the knife for 90% blockage in his arteries. I was so very worried about him, even though it seems like our strongest emotions for each other were anger, frankly. Right after the surgery I went on one of the more serious binges I have ever had. I made myself sick, I ate so much.
So there I was, in the car of the parking lot, scared to death to see my dad so scared and helpless. I desperately wanted to pray.
This wasn’t a new desire for me. I remember vividly, when I was maybe eight or younger, staying up all night, praying to God to reveal himself to me, desperate for any sensation, any emotion that might be called contact with God. By daybreak I had worked myself up into a frenzy of crying, but I felt nothing, absolutely nothing. From that time I realized that God hadn’t come to me for a reason. Whether the reason was that I was sinful (I certainly thought I was), or because God didn’t really exist, or because I lacked something which other people had, some faculty that allowed one to believe, was irrelevant. God didn’t exist for me. So, after a certain point, any discussion about the nature of the divine was irrelevant.
But in that car, on that night, I was lonely and scared and I thought to myself, “How can I pray, and it not be a lie?” Then it came to me, in a brief moment of inspiration, or epiphany, or intuition, or providence, or synchronicity, or pure chance.
I would have to want to change, to be different than what I was, in order to be honest, and actually, genuinely pray to God. I wasn’t so much concerned about whether God existed or not. I just wanted to be honest and speak to something outside of myself. So I repeated to myself, “OK. I am going to have to change.”
And I was able to pray.
I had never realized before that night how much pain and loneliness I really felt. But I felt better after I prayed, then before.
I went to my therapist, and I asked her how I could change, because I really wanted to be able to continue to pray. She said, “That’s what I have been waiting for.” and she signed the approval papers for my gastric surgery, that day. Nine months later I got the knee surgery, just before my COBRA coverage ran out.
So when other people talk about God, or argue about God, or complain about God, or kill each other over God I suspect they are actually talking about institutions, or their parents, or themselves. None of that has anything to do with me. Oh it matters how they treat each other, but God? No. All I know about God is that I need him (or her, or it).
I read a pithy little quote about God once, along the lines of, “The theist says that there is a God. The atheist say there is no God. The mystic says that there is nothing but God.”
I like that, but I have no idea if it’s true or not.
About seven years ago I got the Really Good Job. It was Oilfield Industry work, and it paid well. Very well. I had more disposable income than at any other point in my life. And I disposed of it.
One of the many vices I practiced was excessive eating, even when I wasn’t hungry. As a result, I went from about 250/275 to nearly 400 pounds at my high point. Now, I had worked in retail for many years before that, and by the time I got the Really Good Job, I had worked over my knees like you wouldn’t believe. As a consequence, I was having problems getting up steps, much less anything remotely strenuous. After I lost the Really Good Job I had decided that I would use my COBRA health benefits to get knee surgery. But my Orthopedist said that at my weight, this was probably a very bad idea. So I had to lose weight in a hurry. Then I went to the Gastric surgeon. He said he could help me lose weight; all I needed to do was to get clearance from a psychologist, to make sure I wouldn’t gain back all the weight and kill myself after the surgery.
I showed up at the psychologist’s office with a milkshake in my hand. Needless to say, he didn’t sign the paper giving me his approval, but instead recommended therapy.
I was in therapy for a year, trying my best to get that approval. My therapist would ask me, “Do you want to stop overeating?” and I would reply, “I’m here to save my knee.” and she would reply, “That means you’ll have to change, and stop overeating.” Like I said, this went on for a year.
About this time, my Dad had to go under the knife for 90% blockage in his arteries. I was so very worried about him, even though it seems like our strongest emotions for each other were anger, frankly. Right after the surgery I went on one of the more serious binges I have ever had. I made myself sick, I ate so much.
So there I was, in the car of the parking lot, scared to death to see my dad so scared and helpless. I desperately wanted to pray.
This wasn’t a new desire for me. I remember vividly, when I was maybe eight or younger, staying up all night, praying to God to reveal himself to me, desperate for any sensation, any emotion that might be called contact with God. By daybreak I had worked myself up into a frenzy of crying, but I felt nothing, absolutely nothing. From that time I realized that God hadn’t come to me for a reason. Whether the reason was that I was sinful (I certainly thought I was), or because God didn’t really exist, or because I lacked something which other people had, some faculty that allowed one to believe, was irrelevant. God didn’t exist for me. So, after a certain point, any discussion about the nature of the divine was irrelevant.
But in that car, on that night, I was lonely and scared and I thought to myself, “How can I pray, and it not be a lie?” Then it came to me, in a brief moment of inspiration, or epiphany, or intuition, or providence, or synchronicity, or pure chance.
I would have to want to change, to be different than what I was, in order to be honest, and actually, genuinely pray to God. I wasn’t so much concerned about whether God existed or not. I just wanted to be honest and speak to something outside of myself. So I repeated to myself, “OK. I am going to have to change.”
And I was able to pray.
I had never realized before that night how much pain and loneliness I really felt. But I felt better after I prayed, then before.
I went to my therapist, and I asked her how I could change, because I really wanted to be able to continue to pray. She said, “That’s what I have been waiting for.” and she signed the approval papers for my gastric surgery, that day. Nine months later I got the knee surgery, just before my COBRA coverage ran out.
So when other people talk about God, or argue about God, or complain about God, or kill each other over God I suspect they are actually talking about institutions, or their parents, or themselves. None of that has anything to do with me. Oh it matters how they treat each other, but God? No. All I know about God is that I need him (or her, or it).
I read a pithy little quote about God once, along the lines of, “The theist says that there is a God. The atheist say there is no God. The mystic says that there is nothing but God.”
I like that, but I have no idea if it’s true or not.
Labels: Spirituality
posted by javaapp@gmail.com | 12:31 PM
1 Comments:
There is definitely not the God that my mother believes in. One who watches over people and interveins in their lives. I know this because he/she/it would have had to completely ignore me and the things that have happened to me. A loving, benevolent God would have stopped the abuse I suffered at the hands of so many men. That kind of God would not have ignored my cries for help.
And yet, I somehow still believe in the divine. More along the lines of Mother Nature who creates the beautiful things but has no power to intervein once things are set in motion. I have to believe there is some divine pattern, some reason for being or I would go insane.
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