Nik Nicholson's Blog, page 10

When Me and God Were Atheists 11/22/18

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Nicholson’s third book and the second collection of poetry.

I’m on the phone with my mother, it’s 2am. We both have colds. I’ve been sick since last week. She is worried and keeps saying I don’t sound like I’m getting better. She interrogates me about what I’m taking. She tries to force me to get up and make some tea.

She’s trying to boss me around from Vegas. She tells me to hang up and go lay down. I’m like, the cold medicine makes me drowsy, so I’ve actually been sleeping all day. I tell her I don’t like the way being sick makes me feel.

Looking back on the conversation as I’m typing now. Does some part of me think some people like feeling sick? That seems silly to say out loud, it’s like stating the obvious. I’m angry I’m not doing more, while I’m sick.

Moments like this, I wonder if I shouldn’t be more guarded. Should I really write everything I’m thinking? I miss words when I’m typing this fast. Maybe I type faster than the cursor and it doesn’t put out all the words? Nah, I’m lying. I totally miss words.

My mom and I are building a new relationship. She’s changing as a person. I still don’t feel like I can tell her everything I’m thinking. Maybe our relationship means we should have secrets. It’s weird how many times I switch the subject. Some part of me knows not to go down certain paths. I don’t know how I know either. It’s a block that forces me in a different direction than I’m thinking.

It was almost 5am my time when she practically hung up on me. I was telling her about my dad. I was telling her how I let him read some of a draft.  I tell her we started comparing scriptures to what he thought. How as a result of this exchange, he no longer attends church. How that wasn’t my purpose with this book. I just want people to consider what they really know about their beliefs.

Now I’m thinking about how he wasn’t there for my book release. How he completely forgot the day. How he brags on me but loses track of days. How sad he was he missed my book release.

I’m thinking about how I wished I could have missed my own book release.

I’m writing through the layers of my fears. The layers of all the things holding me back. I’m writing through my thoughts and letting them materialize on paper so I can strangle them in ink.

I have more to say than I’m willing to type at this moment.

I’m tired. Too candid. I should keep more things to mysel...

I’m tired. Too candid. I should keep more things to myself.

I’m a writer. I’m an open book. Sometimes I free people just by being. Sometimes I lose opportunities.

I still haven’t figured it all out. No one really wants us to be honest. Hard work doesn’t actually pay off. And well, I have questions. Why are we taught how to be fair, when life isn’t fair?

Sigh… me and my false expectations. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this right now.

Building My Family Tree 6/16/18

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I call my Dudda “ThinZel Washington” cause you can’t tell him he’s not the cat’s meow. My mom looking on proud. 2006

Last night I dreamed I was at my paternal grandmother’s house. Warm pots on the stove. She was talking with her hand on her hips, looking someone directly in the eyes. Not as a threat, but she had an aging coke bottle shape. It was the natural way she stood. She stirred food on the stove with one hand on her hip. We called her Granoe. Well, other’s did. I called her Ann, which really annoyed some of my dad’s siblings. Looking back now, with this huge amount of respect for my elders, I see how that was perceived as audacious.  However, my dad called her Ann. It was how I was taught to address her. It feels strange even now to call her Granoe, though my first cousins did… Or Mama, they called her.

I am sifting through all sorts of memories this morning… Doing Google searches. I did learn something. I found her brothers obituary, where they named all her siblings including her and their parents. I wanted to call and ask my dad about her, when she was born. At the same time, he went through a major break down after his mother’s death. He just recovered from a few years ago. she died in 1996. It took almost two decades for him to grapple with a life without his mother.

Recently, I asked him where she was buried. He brushed it off and said he didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t push.

I recently took a picture of her in a frame with my grandfather, at my aunt’s house. I was living in Las Vegas when she passed. I sometimes go to where my maternal grandmother’s resting. She died when I was older. She’d taught me how to cook. Sometimes I’d call just to talk with her a few times a week in adulthood.  We had a relationship so I miss her all the time. I drive buy the house I spent my early years in, picking wild strawberries from the back yard… Seeing my first apparition. While my father’s mother passed when I was still in high school. I didn’t get to go home to the funeral. I’ve been thinking about her a lot and how I don’t really know my entire family. Mostly, I had no relationship with my mother’s father, no relationship with my grandmother’s father and only met him once in my life.  Only to find out I had a cousin living in the same apartment building downstairs, I played with often. I met my paternal grandfather when on my way to a funeral and my dad met his father also for the first and last time that day. I woke up today, moved to work on the family tree I’ve been building.

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My grandmother Shirley, my mother Frances and me. There’s a story I won’t get into here. These weren’t our clothes. LOL! 2003ish I’m thinking.

 

I’d like to trace my family tree back four generations. On both sides.

Maternal:

Great Great grandfather:

Great great grandmother:

Great grandmother: Nancy Koger

Great grandfather: Unknown

Grandmother: Shirley Bell Nicholson

Grandfather: Captain Nicholson

My mother: Annie F. Nicholson

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I’ve always felt my never fully accepts how beautiful she is. This is us. 1980’s baby!!!

Paternal:

Great Great grandparents: Who had Tom Hill

Great Great grandparents: Who had Mary Kirkwood Hill

Great grandfather: Tom Hill

Great grandmother: Mary Kirkwood Hill of Sledgewood, Mississippi.

Grandmother: Mary Ann Elbert, maiden name Mary Ann Hill.

Grandfather: Lewis Brown (maybe he spelled his first name like Louis) I can’t find anything on him.

My father: Kenneth Elbert

 

I’m putting names, hoping the dynamics of the internet will work in my favor and any family members searching will find this blog.

Shirley Bell Nicholson ( I don’t know her maiden name) born in Brooksville, Mississippi. Has eight other siblings still living with the last name Koger. However she was/is the oldest and had a different father. She was named before my great grandmother met and married a Koger.

I don’t know anything about Captain Nicholson. I’d like to trace his siblings and their children.

Catalyst For Change

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My Dream Purple Manual Typewriter

I spend a lot of my days defying odds, breaking rules and ignoring objections. This sounds horrible. I am trying to be in a space where I don’t feel obligated to explain myself and just be… At the same time I’m blogging, so I can’t just be like, I don’t follow rules without speaking to why.

Everyone is afraid. Everyone lives in what they believe to be true. I ask tons of questions. I want to know who told you we couldn’t do it. I want to know who made each rule someone is trying to enforce.  Believe me, I feel like an asshole when I’m asking a million questions of someone just doing their job.  I stress people I love out. At the same time, I make them proud. I force the to see the entire world with different eyes and in a way, we’re all getting free.

So, I want to know how the rules I follow are valuable. I mean, at one point it was normal to own people, trade and sell them like cattle. This was the actual law. I’m mentioning this, because laws don’t always make sense. Like it’s illegal to have sex in any position other than missionary.  At one point women were considered burdens, which is why the father paid to give her away. During that time, women were also property to be used as leverage. My point is, just because something is culturally and socially accepted doesn’t mean it makes sense or that it’s conducive to us growing.

I’m obsessed with religion, it is one of the most amazing creations of man… It give me all the hope in the world. People think they can’t get out of their boxes, but religion bridges people through all walks of life, on every economic level and from any cultural or historical background. People who look alike and speak the same language may not see their similarities while being completely at home with foreigners who share their faith. At the same time, they will fight their neighbors and draw lines in sand. It’s crazy how religion can bring so many people together… a belief can make people feel at home with strangers and treat family strange. This has always fascinated me.

 

My life has been changing because I don’t believe anything really. I only go with what I know and it levels the playing field. It makes people look at me like I’m crazy. Observation and rational conclusions are met with hostility, even when there is proof… Side note: Googling shit is like the best thing that could have happened to my generation. I have to be careful with saying this though, cause we can’t believe everything we read especially just because it’s on the internet. There are already tons of books that have no credibility being held as an authority way pass our evolution.

I like writing because it calls me to critically think. When you can Google anything, when your sentences are finished for you and you stop speaking to people… We lose so much. I’m trying to find the balance between technology, common sense, spirit and conversation.

I’m just getting started. Some changes that have been amazing because of my unconventional way of existing, which means constantly self evaluating and questioning everything, I can’t share here. I am just grateful to be moving with life instead of against it.

6/8/2018 Blogging Again

[image error]It’s 7pm. I decided to write a journal because I’ve been writing in journals on paper, that I will probably never read. It’s this technique I’ve learned from a book called, The Artist’s Way. It is freedom. It’s not writing for sharing but for making the unconscious tangible. Then deal. I never knew how many things were limiting my choices. Three pages a day helps you move through other levels of being. I’m grateful for this lesson and practice.

I have failures. Many. I am a year late on a book I was suppose to release last year.

I worry as I write free form… If I’m not too open. I am trying to remember the boundaries we should have when writing about self. Don’t mention anyone you know by name, protect their privacy. I’ve always been an open book. I’m so open people feel freer with me and at times I’m told things no one else is. I’m fully present. I’m attentive. I use to think what I see is obvious. People say I have a gift for fully comprehending them, sometimes better than they grasp themselves.  I’m objective and compassionate.  I don’t really believe in bad traits. People reward me with their trust and by being more of themselves. Still, I’m wondering how do I return to blogging in a way that is helpful but also respectful of my own being.

I do have a lot to say. I’ve learned a lot since I was here last. I’m still learning. I have abandoned some fears and unfortunately realized others. These new ones are clearer and easier to work through, I tell myself.  What I tell myself is the absolute truth, even when it isn’t.

So… I’m here. Hearing. Rendering whatever I’m being told.

Love

She’s Gotta Have It

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The 2017 Netflix Series Cover.

Spike Lee has a new show on Netflix, “She’s Gotta Have It.” I’m researching polyamorous relationships and pansexuals.  I was excited to see a free-spirited black woman in this Trump era.  The trailer made a lot of promises.  I loved that the lead actress is brown with thick hair.  I loved that she was an artist.  She’d have to be to be evolved enough to live free.  I think polyamory, though I am not is a type of freedom that requires a higher level of responsibility.  Freedom is responsibility.

Not long after I pressed play, I wondered if Lee knew any polyamourous pansexual people.  The Lesbians I know swore him off after “She Hate Me,” even after I tried to save him by saying, his sister is a lesbian.  It was like saying, no that man can’t be sexist or patriarchal, he has a mother and sisters. It didn’t go over well. I thought “She Hate Me” flipped the script and made men commodities.

More importantly, he seems to be a cool person with good intentions. I’ve been to one of Lee’s talks.  He’s the kind of person you’d love to catch dinner with and just hear his thoughts on politics, religion and the economy.  He feels like family.  On top of that, he supports black artistry and introduces unknown actors and musicians.  I love that he employs black people and gives us an opportunity to see our complexities.  Crooklyn is still one of my favorite movies.  What he did with Malcolm X made me forget what the real Malcolm X looked like for a while.

Chi-rock… Lawd.  As an artist though, you have to take risks.  Most filmmakers use what they’ve learned about motion photography to tell a story.  Lee uses his own interests, passions, heritage, family, and friends to tell his stories. I can’t tell what film directors made certain films and that’s their skill set.  I always know when it’s a Spike Lee Joint and that’s his genius.  Still, with all the love I have for Lee I couldn’t make it through the first episode.  Disappointed with myself, I’m thinking I didn’t have the right context or mindset.

I forget that Spike Lee’s films are art.  Most of his projects feel like stage plays with the world as its set.  The mood is set by black and white stills, amazing music, and monologues.  I looked up “She’s Gotta Have It,” because it sounded familiar. It is.  This Netflix series is based on Lee’s 1986 movie with the same title.  Now I want to see it, maybe first.

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Original 1986 “She’s Gotta Have It” cover.

Based on previews, Lee’s series is following the movie closely.  Except Lee had some regrets about the 1986 “She’s Gotta Have It,” that he addresses. I hope he uses his freedom to imagine Nola Darling as an actualized individual.  I am looking forward to seeing the 1986 version to see what has changed now that he is older and has a larger budget.  I’m interested to see if it would have been weird if there was more showing than telling?  If instead of having Nola start the series narrating, she was speaking in her head the way we all do.  Let us hear her thoughts as she lives her life, rather than have her narrate… I’ve always felt narration was for books written in the third person or where the character isn’t’ honest.  It’s difficult to do this well, it’s a skill.

Without any background and forgetting Spike Lee’s style, my initial feeling was… This is so heavyhanded. It insults the audience’s abilities to follow the storyline.  Still, maybe after both Spike Lee and I am long gone, people will recognize and celebrate Lee’s genius.

I plan to come back. Maybe let it play in the background and hope it will pull me in. Some of my favorite musicians have collections like this.  You fight getting into the groove because it’s the wrong vibration for that moment.  Sometimes, we even fight parts of ourselves and then we realize we are flawed and that’s why we’re beautiful.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: african american, beautiful, bisexual, black, Black Women, brooklyn, brown skin, dark skin, dating, film, lesbian, LGBTI, LGBTQIA2S, Love, movie, Netflix, new york, POC, Polyamorous, queer, representation, romance, sex, sexual orientation, She's Gotta Have It, Spike Lee, tv, writing

Give Voice to Your Pain

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Give voice to your pain.

My heart is heavy. It hurts when racist bullies play the victim after being called out. It’s difficult for me to grasp this isn’t the Twilight Zone, where some people don’t have to take responsibility for their behavior. Even worse, they have the power to force people of color to console and comfort them while victimizing us… This is another kind of trauma.

This trauma grinds the spirit. It demands you smile and interact under attack. Forgiveness doesn’t need someone to take responsibility or even acknowledge for their harm. Forgiveness is for the forgiver more than the forgiven. Forgiveness allows us spiritual freedom. For me, the spirit grinding has to stop so I can find peace within myself. I need space to grieve the reality of who these racists really are and the death of my own false perceptions. They’d bullied me, but I thought they were just mean. I need to be allowed to be silent, hurt, angry, disappointed and frustrated without being vilified.

I need to feel my own feelings without being told they are inconvenient, immature or unprofessional. I need to feel my own hurt without being told someone else is hurt or uncomfortable. Especially when they are the cause of all of our suffering. Telling me to make someone else comfortable while I’m hurting feels like their humanity is valued over mine.

I want to move into forgiveness, for myself. I am a crying mess. The initial behavior was far more tolerable than the results of addressing them. I have regrets. I understand why people of color remain silent. Silence is self-protection in a system where you can’t win.

Another thing, our false beliefs about how racists and racism manifest undermine our ability to recognize and acknowledge destructive beliefs, language, and behaviors. I include myself in this. I inadvertently defended racists. I didn’t want to believe people who I would have called allies to people of color were racist. I didn’t support a person of color by whitesplaining why their feelings, hurt wasn’t valid. I know, I’m shitty. I feel hella guilty, as I should.

To be clear, if you are consciously protecting a racist hurting people of color out of loyalty to that racist, you are also racist. Protecting a person from the consequences of their racism is… ding ding ding supporting and perpetuating racism. Inevitably, you’re part of the systematic racism crushing people of color.

Racism is spiritual violence. Character assassinations to alienate or vilify the person or people your behavior harmed is spiritual violence. Disconnection feels like armor. Speaking the truth feels like retaliation. When it’s normal to draw back from being burned, scowling and saying “that’s hot!”

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I’m tired. I’m emotionally exhausted. I feel like I did something wrong. I’m afraid. I am broke. I am struggling. In fact, me saying I was starving and broke somehow opened me up to a racist discussion. One meal, one discussion has changed my life.

Today, I’m heartbroken by white privilege. Period. I wouldn’t even call an elder for advice. They’ve learned you can’t win in this system ages ago. They will probably say this is my own fault. They will probably say this is why people of color must wear a mask. They will say this is why they never get too comfortable with white people. White people see this separation as “reverse racism.” I’m starting to fully understand how it’s self-protection in a system where we cannot win.

I’ll probably be punished, for not smiling while I’m hurting. For not masking my scowl of frustration and disappointment. For not being open while feeling defensive. I don’t know how or want to learn how to comfort racist while tending my own wounds. So, I’ve decided to go down in flames. I will not be silenced.

This is… I guess… my own revolution.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: african american, black people, black woman, Black Women, blacks, people of color, racism, systematic racism, weaponizing whiteness, white allies, white privilege

Book Release St. Louis Missouri

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Nicholson’s third book and second collection of poetry.

My third book and the second collection of poetry, Even Deities Evolve: When Me and God Were Atheists will be available on August 4th. I am being published by a small press out of St. Louis, called Apple and Pear publishing. I’m really excited (nervous).

What does one serve? What does one do? I’m sick just thinking about it. This will be my first official release. Looking forward to sharing and reading… and loving on folks.

 

2643 Cherokee Street, St. Louis, MO 63118

Filed under: Even Deities Evolve, Poetry, publishing, Reading, Self Reflection, Spiritual/ Religious Tagged: a writing life, african american history, art, artist, author, faith, focus, god, inspiration, Love, meditation, Missouri, nik nicholson, Performance Poetry, poem, poet, poetry, religion, spirit, Spiritual Evolution, Spiritual Journey, spirituality, spoken-word, st. louis, writers, writing, writing contest, writing journey

Ethnonym

[image error]I was looking up a list of different indigenous people globally.  When I came across a few new vocabulary words… This are copied right from the site. If you are anything like me, you would only come across these words looking for specific things. So I thought I’d share. I’m always open to new words in our language.

An ethnonym is the name applied to a given ethnic group. Ethnonyms can be divided into two categories: exonyms (where the name of the ethnic group has been created by another group of people) and autonyms or endonyms (self-designation; where the name is created and used by the ethnic group itself).

As an example, the ethnonym for the ethnically dominant group in Germany is the Germans. This ethnonym is an exonym used by the English-speaking world, although the term itself is derived from Latin. Conversely, Germans themselves use the autonym of die Deutschen. Germans are indicated by exonyms in many European languages, such as French (Allemands), Italian (tedeschi), Swedish (tyskar) and Polish (Niemcy).

I never knew that Germans, French, Italian, Swedish and Polish people had a different name they preferred.  I spend a lot of my own time being confused by all the different names black (debatable) people in America have been called and have identified as. I thought we were the only group being named.  We often talk about the identify crisis of our people, all of us answering and identifying different. It’s kind of cool to learn it’s not unique.  It also helps me put in better perspective how I identify in contrast to how I am perceived and named.

Filed under: Research Tagged: african, african american, autonyms, black, black moors, colored, culture, endonyms, ethnic, ethnonym, exonyms, identity, language, moor, nationality, Negro, negroid, race, Research, vocabulary

On Second Thought

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What I think God looks like sometimes.

A friend posted on her own status in response to my previous post on religion.  We had a conversation there, which when I woke up the next day I felt needed to continue.  Mostly because from her perspective, since we don’t share the same friends, it appeared she was being personally attacked on Facebook by my posts.  I didn’t tag her and it was specifically something on my heart.  We talked it out on her post.  She made some great points, that made me ask her why she deleted her initial response on my post.  I think conversations are important to be had and witnessed.  If you know more than me, I want to know what you know.  Anyway, I want back to talk to her on her post.  When I went back, she’d deleted the status.

I thought about letting it go, but I think it’s important for religious people to know one, they are in the majority and two, they are privileged.

Everywhere I go someone is offering to pray for me.  People knock on my door and leave pamphlets pushing their religion and their God with fear mongering.  I don’t actually mention God or faith as I’m subjected to other people’s beliefs.  It’s weird to have someone tell you a grandparent is going to hell for being in a faith.  It’s even worse for someone to say you are condemned because you don’t believe exactly what they believe.

Sometimes, I’m moved to say what’s on my heart and I post.  I respect people’s right to believe however or whatever they want, the problem is this isn’t reciprocated.  I was minding my own business at a family church, when my cousin did an entire sermon about me while I was sitting there. Man, he tore me down.

Whenever people do well and I say congratulations, you really worked hard and deserve it. The person will stop me and say, “all praises to Jesus I can’t do anything without him.” Which is cool, but then they take it a step further.  There is a shaming that they are use to in their faith/religion that must happen if they take any ownership for the good that has occurred in their life.  So they tell me, I’m wrong for acknowledging them.  There is always this denial of power.

We are all powerful.  I am not sure how acknowledging someone’s sacrifice or hard work could be offensive.   Still, I’m often told, because I don’t believe what they believe I don’t understand how God works.  Maybe in their mind, God will punish them for being responsible for their own triumphs and failures.  I don’t really understand their faith.  See, I’ve read the book they are basing their lives on but a lot of what they say and practice doesn’t actually come from the Bible.

A great example of made of scripture was the definition of marriage law.  There was fight to keep marriage defined as ONE male and ONE female.  Biblically, a man can have as many wives as he can buy and afford.  A man can even have concubines.  So I’d argue, I have a pretty good understanding of what the Bible says, but not what people who claim to follow the Bible actually believe, or where they got their belief system.

In the past, I’d try understanding what someone believes by swapping scriptures. Eventually we’d reach the conclusion the person hadn’t actually read the Bible in its entirety and then, they didn’t actually know what to believe or what they believed.  Which just made things worse.

I am always seeking to be connected.  Debating religion with a closed minded person afraid of going to hell is the best way to make someone angry and end a relationship. People who are open to learning and evolving are usually already on the same page with me.  If they aren’t, they are NOT debating to win or reaffirm what they know… They are debating to test what they know.

I’ve abandoned some ideas I’ve had and I’ve helped people change perspectives, or clarify a point.  We are more comparing notes to see who has done more research in a specific area.   Most people who are spiritual like me, say they’ve never read the entire Bible.  They’ve read enough of it to understand it isn’t real and that satisfied them.  They are moving in their spirit and allowing God to inform how they should live.  Funniest thing, spiritual people tend to believe the same thing without a shared text.

I believe I’m open minded.  My friends span the spectrum.  Some are religious zealots while others are atheists.  I had atheists join me in blessing and saging my house.  They took it very serious and I felt honored.  I don’t make assumptions.  I say the same shit to my atheist friends I would to believers.  I’ve found them to be very spiritual people too…

And about atheism… One of my friends who is Atheist said he hoped God would forgive him for not believing if there is one, because it doesn’t make sense to him.  I told him God isn’t changed by our perspective.  I told him about the sham of condemnation.  He’s a good person and a lot of people argue it isn’t enough to be a good person.  I’d argue, you aren’t actually a good person if the only reason you are doing the right thing is because you are afraid of going to hell.

So I post about religious superiority, just like I post about racism. I don’t talk about racism to harm white people and I don’t talk about religious superiority to harm religious people.   I post to have conversations.  I post to share what I know and to learn what other people think.  I post for support because a lot of my friends are pretty open minded.  I post to test my theories.

When I was eating in Barnes’ Hospital’s cafeteria, while my dad was in surgery, a really sweet older woman joined me.  She said my respect was refreshing then invited me to her church. I wasn’t in the emotional space to get into why I wasn’t interested. She was so insistent she asked me to take out my phone and look it up.  I respect my elders.  I did.  And honestly, I’ll go at some point because I gave my word.

I know her heart was in the right place, but I always have to deal with being gay.  I worry about rejection because it’s real.  I fit societies social norms for how a woman should look.  If I don’t come out, people perceive it like I’m living a lie or hiding things from them.  So I always have to decide if I am going to come out, which is a very vulnerable thing to do with a stranger, so I don’t.

On occasion I use my fem gender privilege.  I don’t  worry about folks staring me down at church.  At the same time, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been to church with a masculine presenting woman and people just sat staring.  On one occasion a woman made a huge show of  going back out of the bathroom and checking the door to make sure it said women’s.  Then the other woman on seeing her, told my girlfriend at the time, this is the women’s bathroom.

We joked about it.  But we were at a funeral.  I’m sure it was painful for her, but she says it happens all the time.  Another time, I want to a church a gay singer invited me to.  After we sat down, a woman placed herself two rows up on the opposite end of the aisle and just sat looking at us the whole service.  There were others staring too, but unlike them, she didn’t pretend she wasn’t.  She didn’t look away when we stared back.  We were trying to figure out if she was down and trying to hit on my girlfriend or trying to fight us.

I talk about it because it is happening daily. It’s been a struggle to find a therapist who isn’t put off by my orientation. My last therapist said she was ok with LGBT folks.  Then in our therapy session she confided she struggles helping lesbian couples.  Explain, she knows they are having problems because their relationship is against God.

What I didn’t understand is why she was helping lesbian couples in the first place.  Or why she was talking to me for that matter.  Especially after I specifically asked if she had a problem with LGBTQ people.  When I confronted her about this, she said she doesn’t have a problem with gay people, she doesn’t judge.

I personally don’t believe you can assist someone getting to a healthy space, when the majority of what LGBT people are dealing with is rejection and abandonment.  Like why would you even take lesbian couple’s money if you don’t share their relationship goals? How is that level of dishonesty “Christ like?”

People don’t respect my position. They tell me I’m atheist because I know the Bible is myth. They can’t separate the Bible from who God actually is. In fact, a lot of atheist friends use the myths of the Bible to validate their disbelief.  I kind of see that as a different side of the same coin.

Most atheist say they don’t believe in God because God doesn’t meet the expectations they think God should, based on myths.  I often wonder if they don’t believe in God or don’t believe in the Bible but having got to a place where they can separate the two.  I went through a period of atheism, but God was still being God and talking to me.

If a church is not affirming I’m not going. I don’t want to deal with the fall out when I come out.  I want to be in a space where people are accepting and loving.  Not looking for reasons to condemn others.

I am not joining any church where the Bible is NOT being taught in proper context. Proper context is… This is a great book to learn some life lessons.  Like, let your yes be yes and your know be no.  You don’t have to validate your position.  You don’t have to swear.  Let your word be your bond.  Not to mention, the Bible has some of the best poetry I’ve ever read.

Howzeneva it’s racist, elitist, genocidal, patriarchal, sexist, victim blaming (raped women are actually killed), fear mongering, rape condoning, incestuous, hypocritical, contradictory and outdated. Oh, and it condones slavery.  I’m black. Nah, son.

Sometimes, I’m like why am I even going.  Then I remind myself I am allowed to feed my spirit however I choose.  I remind myself that it’s ok to go to worship services.  I mean, I’ve gone to Buddhist sits. I love all kinds of religious practices.  Meditating helps me get centered, clear and free of over thinking.  Prayer allows me to be in a place of gratefulness.

I miss gospel music. I miss the energy of church and congregating with people.  It soothes my spirit to hear a choir.  I love people all singing together and feeling their connection. I love the rhythm and energy of seeing someone holy ghost dance.  I love seeing my elders playing their hand instruments, singing and clapping.  If I want to worship in a church setting I’m going to go.

I’m tired of people asking where I attend church, or if I have a church home.  I find that to be a really intrusive question on an initial meeting.  When I tell people, I’m not interested in church they start trying to save me. I don’t even believe anyone is going to hell or heaven. There are nine planets, none name heaven. There are earth boring machines being created.  They’ve already got some in operation.  They travel long distances, in shorter times than planes, right through the center of earth. So there is no hell beneath us.

They tell me I don’t understand what’s going to happen to me. I abhor fear mongering. I don’t want to be GOD FEARING. I don’t want to love anyone I’m afraid of. I don’t believe anyone loves me who uses fear to control me. I don’t think anyone loves me who seeks to control me. Come on somebody!

When my Buddhist and Muslim friends announced their religions, the person interrupting our lunch focused on me. I’m spiritual. I’m ok with it. They proceeded to tell me I was going to hell.  You don’t have a monopoly on God because you choose suffering and fear. You are not better than me.  You are not going anywhere I can’t go eating pork.

God is always God, no matter who I am. The God I know is unchanging. The God I know isn’t petty or insecure. The God I know, isn’t a narcissist always concerned about me loving someone else. The God I know, would never ask me to abandon or kill anyone I loved to prove my loyalty. Loving self includes acknowledging God. Acknowledging a spiritual reality calls me to make decisions based in that awareness. When I make decisions in spirit they don’t always work out well in the flesh.

Think of the people who freed enslaved people and were caught.  Think of Jesus if you believe in him or Paul, both killed. Didn’t they deserve FAVOR? Think of the people who lost their lives during the Civil Rights Movement. Doing what you are compelled to do because of your spirituality doesn’t always lead to a reward. You may lose your life. Your life might be a living hell. So this idea that if you are favored by God, life is awesome is ridiculous. People compelled to walk a spiritual path may find that path more challenging, illegal, alienating etc. You are not spared you are often given a greater responsibility.

My calling feels like this, writing right here.  Having to speak uncomfortable truths. Mine feels like, having to create safe spaces for spiritual people.  Which just so happens to give me a break from the craziness of false teachings. Mine feels like respecting that God will be God no matter what you believe, but knowing you will be freer knowing the truth.

My task often feels impossible, but I have faith.  My faith is challenged by people who only respond to threats and fear.  I’m loving, saying God is loving and that no one is condemned.

I am saying there aren’t any set rules but what is put on our spirit.  What is put on our spirits is as unique as each of us.  We all have  different struggles, callings and gifts.  God hasn’t condemned any of us.  Many of us are choosing to condemn ourselves and others.

Hell is not a place, it is a way of being after transitioning.  I pray people forgive their own selves and walk in their light.  Because I’ve seen that suffering and it is real.  Without flesh as a distraction, you can’t over or under eat, medicate, overwork, workout or all the other ways we escape the spiritual work.  Some spiritual work is required to transition in peace and exist in peace in whatever is after this.

LOVE IS LIFE. LIVE.

Filed under: Self Reflection, Spiritual/ Religious Tagged: bible, Christianity, faith, finding god, finding self, god, jesus, Love, meditation, motivation, prayer, religion, speaking our truth, spiritual truths, spirituality