Reincarnation. When I was little, I used to think that people would be reincarnated, despite my faith that believes we only get one shot at this life. I was about four years old when my grandmother died. I didn’t understand it at the time. I thought she would be reincarnated, and for some reason I thought she would have been a butterfly. A blue one, and no matter how many nets you cast at her, her wings would remain unrumpled.
My mother later explained to me that our faith did not believe in reincarnation; instead we believed in Heaven. If I remember correctly, I was a little disappointed that I wouldn’t have my grandmother’s presence flitting around me whenever I went into the garden. The next time I was on a plane to visit my other extant grandparents, I looked out the window expecting to see Grandma and God, sitting on clouds and waving at me.
I was disappointed yet again.
I am still disappointed, although in a much different way than I was before. Yes, this life is hard, painful, difficult, unpleasant. All words for the same sentiment. But it is also so good, so immeasurably good if we stop to take a look at it. God created this earth. God is good. All good things have a bit of Him inside of them. That is not to say there is a lot of evil in the world. I do not believe God created evil; he gave us the agency to act and choose for ourselves the types of lives we lead, and it is from men that evil springs. I may sound backward in saying this, but I believe Satan is as real as God. If there were no Satan, there would be no God. It would simply be God and goodness; there would be no definition of God or goodness without Satan and evil.
My thoughts wander.
Over Winter Break, I read a lot. Not as much as I would like (as is ever the case), but I read enough. I reread Franny and Zooey and The Razor’s Edge, both about the experience of finding God. And interestingly enough, they were both required reading during high school.
The following excerpt is from J.D. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey. The title characters are the youngest in a family of six incredibly bright children. Each had their turn on a radio show, but the youngest, Zooey and Franny, were trained at young ages by their eldest brothers in a myriad of different religious philosophies. Zooey recounts the experience to his sister, Zooey.
“'I remember about the fifth time I ever went on 'Wise Child.' I subbed for Walt a few times when he was in a cast--remember when he was in that cast? Anyways, I started bitching one night before the broadcast. Seymour'd told me to shine my shoes just as I was going out the door with Waker. I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, and I just damn well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, and he had a very Seymour look on his face, and so I did it.
“’He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again--all the years you and I were on the program together, if you remember. I don't think I missed more than just a couple of times. This terribly clear, clear picture of the Fat Lady formed in my mind. I had her sitting on this porch all day, swatting flies, with her radio going full-blast from morning till night. I figured the heat was terrible, and she probably had cancer, and--I don't know. Anyway, it seemed goddam clear why Seymour wanted me to shine my shoes when I went on the air. It made sense… Let me tell you something now, buddy. . . . Are you listening?' Franny, looking extremely tense, nodded.
“'I don't care where an actor acts. It can be in summer stock, it can be over a radio, it can be over television, it can be in a goddam Broadway theatre, complete with the most fashionable, most well-fed, most sunburned-looking audience you can imagine. But I'll tell you a terrible secret--Are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that yet? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know--listen to me, now--don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.'”
There is little direction to this post, but I don’t care. Now, it’s Larry Darrell’s turn, from The Razor’s Edge. He spent four years reading, traveling, and working odd, physically demanding jobs. Then he found himself in India, and he found his own way to God. This statement sums up my initial reason for posting. Here, Larry recounts his story to the novel’s narrator and author.
“’I felt in myself an energy that cried out to be expended. It was not for me to leave the world and retire to a cloister, but to live in the world and love the objects of the world, not indeed for themselves, but for the Infinite that is in them. If in those moments of ecstasy I had indeed been one with the Absolute, then, if what they said was true, nothing could touch me and when I had worked out the karma of my present life I should return no more. The thought filled me with dismay. I wanted to live again and again. I was willing to accept every sort of life, no matter what its pain and sorrow; I felt that only life after life, life after life could satisfy my eagerness, my vigor, and my curiosity.’”
At times I am very comforted by the belief that we only get to live one life. I tire quickly, and the thought of an eternal rest – albeit after living a life dedicated to serving and love others – sounds at once very appealing and very boring. But we must progress after we die, or else it would certainly be very boring. My thoughts are wandering again.There are too many things to learn and not enough time to learn them in. In my second semester, I wish that either I would have the time or college would stretch the length to satiate my curiosity. I even wish that I would live over and over again, although I would want to retain what I had learned. However, since we have limited time (which is perhaps the greatest gift God has given us), we must choose and allocate our time as we best see fit. For me, hopefully it will be in ways that will bring me closer to God.
My mother later explained to me that our faith did not believe in reincarnation; instead we believed in Heaven. If I remember correctly, I was a little disappointed that I wouldn’t have my grandmother’s presence flitting around me whenever I went into the garden. The next time I was on a plane to visit my other extant grandparents, I looked out the window expecting to see Grandma and God, sitting on clouds and waving at me.
I was disappointed yet again.
I am still disappointed, although in a much different way than I was before. Yes, this life is hard, painful, difficult, unpleasant. All words for the same sentiment. But it is also so good, so immeasurably good if we stop to take a look at it. God created this earth. God is good. All good things have a bit of Him inside of them. That is not to say there is a lot of evil in the world. I do not believe God created evil; he gave us the agency to act and choose for ourselves the types of lives we lead, and it is from men that evil springs. I may sound backward in saying this, but I believe Satan is as real as God. If there were no Satan, there would be no God. It would simply be God and goodness; there would be no definition of God or goodness without Satan and evil.
My thoughts wander.
Over Winter Break, I read a lot. Not as much as I would like (as is ever the case), but I read enough. I reread Franny and Zooey and The Razor’s Edge, both about the experience of finding God. And interestingly enough, they were both required reading during high school.
The following excerpt is from J.D. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey. The title characters are the youngest in a family of six incredibly bright children. Each had their turn on a radio show, but the youngest, Zooey and Franny, were trained at young ages by their eldest brothers in a myriad of different religious philosophies. Zooey recounts the experience to his sister, Zooey.
“'I remember about the fifth time I ever went on 'Wise Child.' I subbed for Walt a few times when he was in a cast--remember when he was in that cast? Anyways, I started bitching one night before the broadcast. Seymour'd told me to shine my shoes just as I was going out the door with Waker. I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, and I just damn well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, and he had a very Seymour look on his face, and so I did it.
“’He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again--all the years you and I were on the program together, if you remember. I don't think I missed more than just a couple of times. This terribly clear, clear picture of the Fat Lady formed in my mind. I had her sitting on this porch all day, swatting flies, with her radio going full-blast from morning till night. I figured the heat was terrible, and she probably had cancer, and--I don't know. Anyway, it seemed goddam clear why Seymour wanted me to shine my shoes when I went on the air. It made sense… Let me tell you something now, buddy. . . . Are you listening?' Franny, looking extremely tense, nodded.
“'I don't care where an actor acts. It can be in summer stock, it can be over a radio, it can be over television, it can be in a goddam Broadway theatre, complete with the most fashionable, most well-fed, most sunburned-looking audience you can imagine. But I'll tell you a terrible secret--Are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that yet? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know--listen to me, now--don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.'”
There is little direction to this post, but I don’t care. Now, it’s Larry Darrell’s turn, from The Razor’s Edge. He spent four years reading, traveling, and working odd, physically demanding jobs. Then he found himself in India, and he found his own way to God. This statement sums up my initial reason for posting. Here, Larry recounts his story to the novel’s narrator and author.
“’I felt in myself an energy that cried out to be expended. It was not for me to leave the world and retire to a cloister, but to live in the world and love the objects of the world, not indeed for themselves, but for the Infinite that is in them. If in those moments of ecstasy I had indeed been one with the Absolute, then, if what they said was true, nothing could touch me and when I had worked out the karma of my present life I should return no more. The thought filled me with dismay. I wanted to live again and again. I was willing to accept every sort of life, no matter what its pain and sorrow; I felt that only life after life, life after life could satisfy my eagerness, my vigor, and my curiosity.’”
At times I am very comforted by the belief that we only get to live one life. I tire quickly, and the thought of an eternal rest – albeit after living a life dedicated to serving and love others – sounds at once very appealing and very boring. But we must progress after we die, or else it would certainly be very boring. My thoughts are wandering again.There are too many things to learn and not enough time to learn them in. In my second semester, I wish that either I would have the time or college would stretch the length to satiate my curiosity. I even wish that I would live over and over again, although I would want to retain what I had learned. However, since we have limited time (which is perhaps the greatest gift God has given us), we must choose and allocate our time as we best see fit. For me, hopefully it will be in ways that will bring me closer to God.
