Because we are raised in a world of make believe, we never notice that we live in a world of the beliefs we make.
Human experience, in other words, is based on the different paradigms we use to interpret those experiences. If no one had ever thought of the idea of "God" or the "devil", for example, no one would automatically think that either of these anthropomorphous ideas were responsible for anything at all, either good or bad.
But what if all of our ideas are wrong, as they most surely all on some level, since they are simply projections of the collective fallibility of our own minds, masked in an image of the closest thing we could agree to about what constituted "perfection" without spilling more blood than we already have. And all the suffering we sowed and blood we have spilled so far, is simply part of the evolutionary process of "survival of the fittest," by fighting threats posed to a society, from both within and without, which is committed to the single purpose of only ever trying to make the world all the more "civilized." And by "civilized,"too many of us necessarily mean "Christian," and nothing else.
What if fear has an actual physical effect on the atoms of the universe all around us, the way a fish effects the molecules of the water around it? But rather than dissipate in vibration the way water molecules would, they inflate instead? And what if all of our "answers" to life's greatest questions are the very things that are preventing us from finding the real meaning to anything and everything?
So much noise, static, and rigor, draped over the mind of man, a mind which believes it is made in the image of a god who made the universe from simply his mind, but doubts its own ability to do the same thing, because it is unable to accept responsibility for what it has created, and only continues to cultivate all the more. And in the process, more and more continue to cry out to God, like screaming louder and louder for help from the person staring back at them in the mirror.
We doubt that we, like God, simply speak our reality "- with a few passionate sentences - into birth." We doubt, in other words, that the most "brilliant flowers are the dearest of unfulfilled dreams," as Edgar Allen Poe wrote, "and that our raging volcanoes are the passions of the most turbulent of hearts."
If the material universe is the "intelligent design" of an immaterial mind we call God, in who's image such a majority of us so passionately claim to believe we are all made, then how is it that so many of us can be so incapable of learning about that "god" through our differences, and often for no other reason than that we choose to "believe" that at least some of those differences are the mark of Cain?
We insulate our collective identity, along with a certain pride we take in what we like to believe is the general moral dignity of the overall environment we know best, by convincing ourselves that serial killers and psychopaths are nothing like us, because they kill with their bare hands, while we leave such things, like the killing of our dinner, to be done by others, so we don't have to.
And we allay our fears about admitting we could be wrong in this conclusion, which screams at us from that mirror in the few carefully selected images we are allowed to see, by convincing ourselves that we are certainly not the monsters, so it must all be for a really moral reason, unfortunate as it may be for all those who are forced to suffer from the apathetic justification of our conclusion.
No wonder God does not hear our prayers. It's because no one is listening.
Human experience, in other words, is based on the different paradigms we use to interpret those experiences. If no one had ever thought of the idea of "God" or the "devil", for example, no one would automatically think that either of these anthropomorphous ideas were responsible for anything at all, either good or bad.
But what if all of our ideas are wrong, as they most surely all on some level, since they are simply projections of the collective fallibility of our own minds, masked in an image of the closest thing we could agree to about what constituted "perfection" without spilling more blood than we already have. And all the suffering we sowed and blood we have spilled so far, is simply part of the evolutionary process of "survival of the fittest," by fighting threats posed to a society, from both within and without, which is committed to the single purpose of only ever trying to make the world all the more "civilized." And by "civilized,"too many of us necessarily mean "Christian," and nothing else.
What if fear has an actual physical effect on the atoms of the universe all around us, the way a fish effects the molecules of the water around it? But rather than dissipate in vibration the way water molecules would, they inflate instead? And what if all of our "answers" to life's greatest questions are the very things that are preventing us from finding the real meaning to anything and everything?
So much noise, static, and rigor, draped over the mind of man, a mind which believes it is made in the image of a god who made the universe from simply his mind, but doubts its own ability to do the same thing, because it is unable to accept responsibility for what it has created, and only continues to cultivate all the more. And in the process, more and more continue to cry out to God, like screaming louder and louder for help from the person staring back at them in the mirror.
We doubt that we, like God, simply speak our reality "- with a few passionate sentences - into birth." We doubt, in other words, that the most "brilliant flowers are the dearest of unfulfilled dreams," as Edgar Allen Poe wrote, "and that our raging volcanoes are the passions of the most turbulent of hearts."
If the material universe is the "intelligent design" of an immaterial mind we call God, in who's image such a majority of us so passionately claim to believe we are all made, then how is it that so many of us can be so incapable of learning about that "god" through our differences, and often for no other reason than that we choose to "believe" that at least some of those differences are the mark of Cain?
We insulate our collective identity, along with a certain pride we take in what we like to believe is the general moral dignity of the overall environment we know best, by convincing ourselves that serial killers and psychopaths are nothing like us, because they kill with their bare hands, while we leave such things, like the killing of our dinner, to be done by others, so we don't have to.
And we allay our fears about admitting we could be wrong in this conclusion, which screams at us from that mirror in the few carefully selected images we are allowed to see, by convincing ourselves that we are certainly not the monsters, so it must all be for a really moral reason, unfortunate as it may be for all those who are forced to suffer from the apathetic justification of our conclusion.
No wonder God does not hear our prayers. It's because no one is listening.
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