The Study

The Complete Sayings of Hazrat Inayat Khan. The Tibetan Book of the Dead. The Zohar. The Essential Rumi. The Kabbalah Handbook. The Coffee Table Book of Astrology. The Purpose of Life. The Holy Bible. These are a very small sampling of the hundreds, or perhaps thousands of books my Mother has on shelves throughout her home, many of which are book marked at some point where she stopped reading, intending to pick back up. Islam, Judaism, Taoism, Buddhism, LIFEism. She has studied every teaching she has come across, some deeper than others. What, then, causes her to return to the Christian Mythos? Is it as a result of that particular religious teaching being the foundation on which she bases her learning? My initial foundation, or at least what I remember, was atheism. Sometimes I think I may have been dealt the better hand, or at least the blank slate. I wonder at the amazing powers of the Universe, while realizing it is all within me, and not having to believe that something completely outside of, and detached from, my Self is controlling me and the universe around me. I can realize that I am a miniscule cog in an infinitely expanding and infinitely changing machine, and not fear it, but BE a part of it. I can accept you and your belief without judgement, without fear, without pity, and without trying to change your mind about it.

My mother brought a book to me, for my Son, last week: The Story of Easter. I opened it expecting, perhaps, to read about the re-birth of the Earth after a long winter, or an explanation of the celebration for it's original intended purpose (Pre-Judaism, Pre-Christianity, Pre-Monotheism): to welcome Spring. To teach Children that the Bunny is a symbol of abundant new life. The Egg and the chick, symbols of new life and re-birth. It wasn't. It was the Story of Christ dying on a cross and rising from the dead three days later. It struck me over the next few days, after not bringing it home with me to read to Collin, that it, like many of the Christian Myths, is simply the same story, told in a way that separates us from the Earth, and separates us from The Mystery. What I'm struggling with is how any mythological representation of life becomes so easy to swallow by so many people for such long periods of time. For centuries it was common to believe that there were many Gods and Goddesses that all acted like humans, only they had Super Powers and could change the Earth and play with people's lives. Before that, there was an Earth Mother that would Swallow people up if she became angry, or wash people away with her tears should she become unhappy. Nothing has changed. Nothing is different now than it was thousands, or hundreds of thousands of years ago. The only thing, in fact, that has changed is how we, as Humans, have evolved and adapted to our surroundings, or forced our surroundings to adapt to us.

Somehow, despite, or maybe because of, her upbringing, my Mother taught us pieces of everything she learned. She taught us that everyone has different ideas about the world and that is what makes it so beautiful. She taught us that it is best to love, accept, forgive and embrace. She taught us to appreciate each other, and everything around us no matter how insignificant it seems. She taught us that finding peace within is most important to encouraging peace in others. She taught us that dreams are important. She taught us that people only change, grow or evolve if they want to, and there is NO way that you can drag someone along with you, no matter how hard you try.

I hope, as I finish this wandering, that my God-fearing friends will pray for me, my Buddhist friends will read this with the proper amount of detachment, my Jewish friends will shake their heads while breaking unleavened bread, my spiritually evolving friends will read too deeply into it and all of my friends will continue to embrace each other's differences. "When there is peace among religions there will be peace in our world" -His Holiness, the Dalai Lama

Happy Easter, Pesach, Equinox, Spring!