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InnerFreq
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Name: iNNERFREQ
Gender: Male
Interests: Stories: knowing yours and making mine.
Expertise: a little of this and a little of that... but mostly that... okay, okay... just that.
Occupation: yeah, i'm working on that
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
6/7/2005
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So there's a movie coming out sometime in the near future titled "Religulous". Nice.
The title pretty much clarifies the intent but for those unsure I will clarify further that this is not a documentary. This is what I would call an "editary". An editorialist documentary. Much like that well know Micheal Moore.
Now wherein I can usually recommend Mr. Moore's own editaries as a source of entertainment and loosely folded fact, I find that I can not condone Mr. Larry Charles' attempt at opinionating.
Moore's own editaries focus on an act, be it by a person or persons, it would appear to me that Charles' would indeed focus solely on the people acting.
Now I have only seen extensive trailers. Extensive trailers of violent, screaming, self righteous, 5-second-clips of people who I find to be the cliche' mix of the radically religious. Now, I'm not denying that these people exist, not by any means. What I am stating is that I am surrounded by beautiful, spiritual, community enriching, religious folk every day. The kind you don't see on TV.
And now for my own personal editarial comment on this; this is why I believe in God.
It is not only the constant existence I see of the supernatural in my own life. When measured up against the 'odds', or held up in the mere question of "how not", it is not only these evaluations that prove to me that God is very real.
It is the absence of God that solidifies my faith. It is when I see the unanswers of the faithless and the actions of the unfocused faithful that I realize that (testimonially speaking) less is more. It is when I see a world that coincidingly strives to be less of what Jesus taught and more about what we derive to be moral that I see the perfection of His wisdom.
And it is sadly also when I see the people who walk to disprove these things, with the arrogance and pride that swift editing and a production budget gives someone, feel as though they are helping an already fatally tense situation of clashing cultures by providing a 90 minute montage of images which they relatively feel are accurate of something which they are not truly willing to understand.
And it is with this I ask myself: does he see the god he serves is his own emancipation? What is it that he goes home to at night? Is it flawed? Is it internal or external? Does he practice it ritually or only when in need of some semblance of balance in an imperfect life?
I hope one day he does.
Or am I just being religulous?
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I HAD A DREAM: #3
I'm on campus. The general type, a lot of older buildings mixed with conventionally more boring ones. And on the intersection of the sidewalk is the professor. It's midday and the professor is from the TV show LOST.
I've made a mistake. I need to go back in time to fix this mistake. He can help me. I'm sure of it.
I ask him to help me. He says it's tricky. Time travel is very unpredictable he tells me, more unpredictable than I could possibly imagine. I say "Ya, ya, just tell me how." I am very focused and over confident.
He says I need to use the cairn. There is a cairn directly behind me in a Japanese style garden house. It tightly surrounds the cairn. I say thanks and run around the corner and into it.
It is at the point I enter that I hear him say "No, not that one!"
I'm on campus. I am a blonde woman. I had seen her earlier in my dream in passing. I do not know her, but I have become her. Moreso, she has become me. I look back to where I had passed and see me standing with the professor. I see me running toward the cairn. I shout out "No! That's the wrong one..."
I'm on campus. I am a middle aged oriental man. I am the groundskeeper. I have never met me. I see the blonde woman running down a side walk and ahead of her I am running toward the cairn. "No!" I yell,"That's the wrong one..."
I'm on campus. I am somebody else now. I no longer focus on who, only on where. Where am "I"? I feel that I am the tenth incarnation of the redundant. I find me and begin running, seeing people from all directions running toward "me".
I'm on campus. I am he.
I'm on campus. I am she.
I'm on campus. Running.
I'm on campus. Searching.
And so it goes.
I'm on campus and each time I am somebody else. There are groups of us... of me. Dozens. Thing is, I can feel myself within each persona individually and synchronistic. We are running. We are shouting. We are I. And I'm on campus.
D.D. May, 2008
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| I HAD A DREAM: #2
I'm alone in our house. The one on the farm. I'm in the living room lying on the carpet. The light is on because it's dark outside. The night has come, but I will not look out the window. I don't dare look out the window.
The lights are off then, in an instant echo of their notice. Without the lights the outside seems much brighter. But I dare not look.
I am facing the window. Staring intently at the sill I dare not look outside. The curtains off to the sides are still the same bright orange they have always been. I notice this as I notice that I am alone. There is no one else in the world except for me, and I can feel it.
I am ten years old. I don't know where everybody is, I only know where they are not. And I dare not look outside.
And then I am out in my lawn. When I say "in" I mean "in". I am lying amongst the elongated blades of jungle grass that exist only in my lonely world. But they are little shelter. The only way to see is up. But I dare not look outside.
And then I do.
I look at it expectantly. I see it with all the fear in my heart that only a lonely ten year old boy can feel.
And then I am on the street. I am walking down the street of a very geometric city. The street is broad and the plain white buildings reflect an inexistent daylight and contrast the black of a moonless night's sky. I am crying. Because I dare not look down. I dare not look away.
It fills the open sky of the city light years across. Six points of light. Stars. Four of them form a single line, perfectly aligned. The remaining two neighbor the second point in the line. It is a cross, and I dare not look away.
All of the others looked away. It steadies as a golden serpent, it leads as a fiery cloud. These stars do not move or twinkle. They are steadfast, fixed with eternal purpose. I can't look away.
I am on my knees know. I want to look away, I need to. It's just so very, very much to bear. I am overwhelmed by it - as it should be. My eyes are filled with tears. I am terrified. Nothing is said, nothing is written, nothing is cast. I am held only by my own understanding. And in that understanding, in that mortal instinct to stay alive I close my eyes and look away.
D.D. 1985. (the first time)
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hOW IS IT THAT ANYONE WITH A BELIEF, UNDERSTANDING, OR PASSION FOR HISTORY, THE ARTS, OR SCIENCE; COULD EVER SO OPENLY SPEAK HATE TOWARD A PERSON FOR BEING A PERSON DIFFERENT FROM THEMSELVES?
aND IF ALL THESE THINGS SAY NOTHING TO A HATE LIKE THIS, WHAT WORDS HAVE i.
wHAT WORDS HAVE i?
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I HAD A DREAM: #1
I'm walking in a dark meadow. The meadow is wrong. There is no single thing that I see that speaks this to me. It is simply wrong. Wrong in what it is, wrong in what it does. But I have a purpose here. I am following someone. This someone I recognize as a character from a television show that I have numerously seen. She is leading me with what seems to be a torch and a large dulled, golden arrow. She does not look back, but I have seen her face. I have also seen mine, but it does not belong to me. I don't recognize the face either now or later but for now, it is me.
We need to find the way. It is of the utmost imperative that we find the way. She will lead us there. I am sure of this. And it is in no time that we find it.
We come upon a tall and deep thistle bush. It is so deep that I can't see through it, it is so sparse that I can. I can see a few feet in that the bush spirals in on itself, we must go to the center of the bush.
Something is following us. I have only noticed this now but I have known it all along. As I turn, I see a black, rigid, serpentine dog. He is a hydra. There are only two heads. He is the hunter, the protector, the killer. As I watch him he stands there, a ways back from us, frozen and looking off to the right of me. I turn to tell the girl. She says, "I know. We need to keep moving." She always talks like she's on television.
We stride forward... carefully. The branches which bisect the path are razor bladed. They will cut us badly, so we watch as we tread forwards.
There is movement behind me.
I turn. The hydra stops, frozen, looking off to the side of me. Still a ways off, he is closer than before.
I walk carefully forward through the thicket. Every few paces I turn and see the hydra closer than before. Always frozen, always avoiding visual contact as if to draw me into believing he has no interest in us. But I am aware of the lie. My fear has given it away.
"We need to move forward," she orders. I don't really like her. She is bleeding from her face. A branch grazes my temple. I can feel it slide beneath my skin. There is a movement behind me.
If I don't keep my eyes ahead on the path, it will cut me without mercy. If I don't keep my eyes on the hydra, he will kill me. She sees this too, and with a look between ourselves, we run.
I never reach the center of the thicket. There are teeth inside my leg. There are undoubtedly more teeth coming. I hope she found the end. I wish I'd seen it too.
I wish I'd seen it too.
D.D. April 20, 2008
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