Rough roads bring Great Adventures

I've been thinking lately about why things have to be so difficult. It's an age old question pondered my men much smarter than I, and I have little to add on the subject that has not already been said many different times in many different ways.

Especially, though, I wonder why trials seem to stack up against those who are making a sincere effort to be good. To be better than they are, to grow as a human being, to recognize the power they have inside of them? Why are these the ones who are given the hardest roads to walk?

Because in order to get to Heaven, you have to go through Hell. Why? I don't know. But i do know the most humble and righteous people I've ever met, people you'd almost expect to be translated to another state of existance because they're so honest, brave, and true, the ones who practice pure religion, are the ones who've had it tested every concievable way and in more than a few inconceivable ones.

I guess it wouldn't be any fun if it were easy, now would it? Good journeys!

A Warning (I use the unisex She a lot)

The writer of fiction has advantages and disadvantages when it comes to religion.

A fictioneer knows the value of stories in teaching truth. She knows that truth is often best expressed in story, either by example or by metaphor. She knows that the entire spectrum of humanity is within the scope of the writer, and can be changed in a single instant by experience or by insight.

A writer knows that a person will believe, even if just for a moment, anything that they hope is true, or anything they're afraid is true. A writer knows that to find true happiness in religion, it must not be based on these things.

A writer knows that a convincing lie can make the general populous do stupid things (see Salem Witch hunts), and so knows that truth cannot come from a lie.

A writer has imagination, and she usually believes that much more, if not anything, is possible, and so things like God and power beyond our understanding very well could exist or have existed.

A writer knows that if a religion teaches in stories and metaphor, they must be true stories and metaphor, whether that be true to history or true to teachings.

It is very easy for a writer to convince herself that everything she has ever been taught in life is false. It is much harder, though infinitely more worthwhile, to believe in something she doesn't understand.

Admitting that though she has the power to create entire imaginary worlds, she does not fully grasp the one she lives in.

Insights on being the Everman

I'm getting into bad habits on my blog again. Sorry, for the few remaining readers I have.

I was once writing a paper on Everyman when once I mispelled his name and put Everman. The minute I typed it, I laughed a little to myself and said "okay, prima donna, don't write about yourself, here."

It was meant as a joke at the time, you know, to make me smile? But somehow,time and time again, that name has come up in my mind, always in reference to me. "I can't, I'm the Everman." "I won't, I'm the Everman." "I shouldn't, I'm the Everman.", as though it were some sort of great title bestowed by a lord or king.

I have and will only serve one King and one Lord? was it bestowed of him? I've wondered what it could mean, Everman. The Eternal Man? He who shall not die?

Then I wonder if it's just a way of flattering myself. Have I held on to it because it's a part of who I am, or just a part of what I want to be?

The only half baked conclusions I have are that I am different, because I recognize my own spiritual immortality. Mine is not to die. Mine is to live forever, to continue to learn and grow beyond my death. To never cease progressing under the tutelage of my Father.

I am free because of the rules I live by, rules given to me from on high. If I hadn't heard it from the Spirit, I might have laughed it off. I am free, not because rules have been drilled into me, but because I have broken those rules, and found myself a slave to something else. I found that what I thought were my shackles were silken threads of love, guiding me back home.

Being an Everman means recognizing you're a stranger in the world, that you "come trailing clouds of Glory". You don't belong here, not forever. Only 70-90 short years, and you will be where you belong. It means recognizing you are where you are to help yourself and the others here with you.

Being an Everman is not an easy task or calling. It means constant vigilance and evaluation of where you are and where you're going.

It means being a "peter-priesthood" who knows why he's doing it, and being unafraid of mock. It means relating to characters from sacred scripture because he feels ridiculed for believing the way he does. That entertainment is a passing, flighty fancy. That a drunken stupor must inevitably end in a few eternally miniscule hours.

And the hardest part of being the Everman?

It means being strong. Even in your weakest moments, it means being stronger than the devil himself, a being of incalculable evil. This isn't bragging. This is the part you fight every day when you're trying to do what's right, because in the moment you determine to be good the rest of your life, the forces of Hell will mount against you in all of their filthy ugliness.

Melodramatic? Maybe. Try living it, and tell me if I took it overboard.