What if you were God

Let us play a game.

A game of pretend.

Only at the end of the game if you win you’ll realize that it wasn’t a game.

That really what you thought wasn’t a game was a game.

So to begin I want you to close your eyes. Well I don’t because you won’t be able to read what I write if you do.

But anyway pretend to close your eyes.

Now I want you to imagine what it would be like to be God with a big G.

You can do whatever you want, you know everything and you are everywhere.

Question: what are you going to do?

Well come on. What would you do if you won the lottery so to speak?

Imagine the questions that would bug you in this state.

What is the point? What am I to do?

It’s all well and good being poor you know. These questions don’t really come up.

What is the point? To get rich of course; or at least make it so I don’t have to worry about food and shelter anymore.

What am I to do? Another easy one: try to get rich, build a hut or whatever.

It’s all very well being in a state of need. The need sorts those questions out for you.

But now I’m asking you what do you do when there is no need? After you’ve got that house and you’re rich and you have slaves to do everything for you. What do you do?

In a sense owning slaves is a lot like the power we ascribe to god. I speak “give me steak!” And voila my employee brings me steak.

God speaks “Let there be light” and voila there is light.

The only difference is that the universe in this way of thinking is God’s slave.

Well what would you do if you were God?

I’m not really looking for an answer to the question. It would be different for everybody anyway.

But that this question seems the most appropriate question one would ask oneself if one were God is interesting.

Why? Because it’s what we ask ourselves all the time.

That is to say that the most fundamental question man can ask “What am I to do?” Is the only question it makes any sense for God to ask also.

“Well I am. I want to be. Obviously I want to be otherwise I wouldn’t be. I’m god after all I can not be if I didn’t want to be. What on earth am I supposed to do?” Says god.

“Well here I am. I’m alive. Obviously I want to be alive because it’s easy to not be alive. I just chuck myself under a bus. But what the hell am I do with myself” says man.

Everyone reaches this state. Once you’ve put the time in at work to feed and clothe yourself you get home. You can do stuff but all the stuff you need to do has been done.

What are you to do?


Deadly musing

To the caged bird the uncaged bird is a scary thing.
It’s like people haven’t got the fundamental fact.
We’re all gonna die. Everyone of us. 
Now this can be good or bad. If you’re lucky enough to have had your face smacked by the love reality than you don’t know what it is but you know what’s doing it so you’re cool with whatever the answer to the death question is.
If you’re not lucky enough to have that (and I’m sorry but it’s pure luck no merit. I’m sure there’s a part in the gospel of John where Jesus elucidated this. His disciples are. Arguing and he’s like “why are you arguing don’t you know it’s the father that chooses. What’s the point in these frivolous words” or something like that) then you don’t know.
But either way you are definitely gonna die.
This hell is just indigestible nonsense. What would you say about me if I said to you “come to my party or I’ll kill you”?
You’d think I was a twat and you’d be right.
So we’re all gonna die.
Say if you advise someone wrong. Well their gonna live their lives with it’s ups and downs then – guess what? – they’re gonna die.
Same with the good advice.
Follow this. I mean really follow the white rabbit. Hitler. Really bad. I wouldn’t have done what he did. But guess what? What was the effect of his actions? 
You got it people did what they would have done anyway. They died.
A villain in Sherlock said in response to Dr Watson’s “but you made people die” “THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE DO”
Am I saying that you should go out and kill people. No but I’m not not saying that.
What I’m getting at is this. 
Who the fuck are you really? I mean let’s get beyond all the consequences and legalistic bullshit. Who are you when no one’s looking?
Remember ultimately it don’t matter what you do. God’s will is being done.
So let’s get to reality here. What are you protecting me from? What’s the worst that can happen to us?
People die that’s what they do why throw up hazard signs?

But you do it!

There’s this idea that has sway over the majority. It is that someone has to practice what they preach. That if you don’t do for yourself what you believe to be the solution for your problem then you have no right advising another with the same problem to do the very thing you do not do.

The problem with man is not that he doesn’t know what to do it is that he doesn’t do it.

This almost unspoken rule is the very rule that causes people to become disingenuous. We all want to be heard, to feel that what we say carries some weight and because people habitually almost instinctively judge the truth value of what we say by how we live our lives we whitewash our lives before others just so we can participate in communication.

We argue constantly trying to justify ourselves. To make ourselves at least appear to do the right thing. To never be wrong in word or action.

This sets up a strange little feed back loop. Instead of looking at a thing and saying what we think we now try to conform our behaviour to what we say. Often when the two (What we do and what we say) are out of step we change the words to fit the actions. 

It would be better and less pathological (in the sense that a pathology causes pain and disruption) if we recognized the fact that we act from a different place than we speak from. That a drug addict with a heroin syringe in his arm can say truthfully “you shouldn’t do this; it’s bad” with the exact same weight as a Tory. 

There is a difference between walking the path and speaking the path. This is true. But the words are the same for both.

All because a thief says it is wrong to steal doesn’t mean it is right. 

The truth is the truth whoever says it.

Stuff on talking and people

We’re all jigsaw puzzle pieces the best way is to bare our jagged edges. More often than not they’re only jagged in our heads.

I think the most basic truth about humans of all is that we just want to love and be loved.

This is behind the need to be understood.

I think the best kind of conversation and declaration is one in which the concern for truth is involved but it’s not centre stage. More a mutual comparing of notes on our subjective experiences than a mutual destruction of interpretations.

There is a space above truth and falsehood in which both coexist. Both true and false statements can be comprehended. Often we just use truth and falsehood as walls that let in some and exclude others.

Missed opportunity

I don’t know if it’s the heat but I am so hungry for love. Almost every woman I see sends flames through me. Distracting flames full of sensuous and non-sensuous daydreams.

Of me immolating myself upon the altar of cunt,

Us sat across from each other at a restaurant

Laughing as she burbs.

Many women inflame just the lust and I know this. Well I learnt this on the bus on the way back from work.

There was this girl sat at the front talking to a younger girl. She had a dizzying, white pallor to her skin.

A face that reminded me of Helen Bonham Carter in “Fight Club” or “Harry Potter”. She didn’t look at all like Helen Bonham Carter it’s just she had that “ness”, that ineffable quality that drew the character of the character behind Helen Bonham Carter’s face to my mind.

It was like here was something untameable, dangerous; something not of this world and because of all this glorious.

She was incredibly sexy but there was something above and beyond this.

She shone in the twitch of her eyebrow as she discoursed through expression to the pre-pubescent beside her. There was something real and alive about her.

I probably stared at her a bit too much… Or not. Alas I shall never know… or I might.

I pressed the bell at my stop which was her stop and as I walked down the bus-aisle she smiled at me.

Can you believe it? That’s the opening to conversation. If you want someone not to talk to you you disengage eye-contact and you definitely don’t smile at them with an open face beaming a light like the moon on a cold night!

But the butterflies got the better of me. I bypassed the opportunity and like the crustacean I am scuttled into my shell of agonizingly comfortable anonymity.

And walked before her with my mind in glare…

Oh woe is me and my stupidity! What was to be lost but what I didn’t have anyway? What was the risk but a red face that would disappear in the waves of temporality?

Letting go, authenticity and love.

It’s difficult being single and really wanting to be with someone.

I know exactly what I want and I know there is only one way of getting it. I want to be loved authentically for the dance I dance spontaneously. The only way to get this is to be fearlessly authentic and open.

Not to hide or act with deceit.

The problem is that there’s also a risk attached. I may not get what I want.

The secret to life is letting go. I have accepted that I may not get what I want.

I look around me and I see most people in damaging relationships where neither is who they are authentically. Both of them constantly struggling to assure the other that they truly are the fake they pretended to be when they wooed them and arguing when this struggle inevitably ends in failure.

I do not want that. I’ve given in to the urge for sex a few times. Found someone with low-self-esteem and tricked myself into believing that I could be happy with them. But I couldn’t maintain it.

There are two sides of this. I want to be loved authentically and I want to love authentically. I cannot lie to myself for long it always crumbles.

The path lies between these two extremes. On the one hand modifying my self expression to fit what I believe the others will desire and on the other hand picking anyone whether or not I really like them.

The only way I can walk this path is through meditation, through the practise of letting go, of giving up on the illusion that I have any form of control.

It’s not actually that hard; but the stronger the desire the harder it is to let go of it. This is good because you only become better at something by fighting a stronger opponent. Also the illusion is easily dispelled.

I don’t have what I want now and no matter what I do I won’t get it now so I might as well practice letting go now because it is more comfortable to let go than it is to cling on. Clinging hurts and with letting go there is an initial fright before one finds themselves in flight.

The narrative is this: Let if go, pick it back up, realize you’ve picked it back up and let it go again.


I lived my life
Trying to control
But really

it wasn’t easy;
I struggled and strived
denied myself my…
Self. Tried to be…
someone else.

I didn’t know it
but the truth is
that laziness
is the way to
the truest self

The easiest path
is the easiest path
you want to walk it.

people strive
to be what they are not.

They live a lie of strife
a life of effort
for no reward.
No-one claps
there is no applause
and if there was
so what?

what can I do with applause?

This need we have
to convince people
to proove ourselves right
is nothing but a
struggle to hand over
our freedom to
come under

See when you see
that seeing is a slow
slow journey to

All people walk it
few of them know it
and eventually
everyone knows this.

If only for the moment
when your grandma dies
and leaves a wound and
you know, you
really know that
what matters doesn’t matter
that these standards
don’t matter!

That mattering can
smatter itself
across the cistern.

That what “matters”
has placed a barrier
between me and you
between me and my family
because I fail
I try and I fail
To live up to the

I feel guilt
that I’m not
what they admire
what they respect.

And this guilt
with downcast eyes
and stammering lips
weaves a disguise
before our very eyes
that hides from us both
the ones we want to know.

Not secretly
but openly
a family is fed upon
by a guilt
that restrains the lips
from uttering trivialities
and we watch
as our loved ones
disappear into

But death comes
and it shows us
through the tears
in the heart of the wound
that nothing matters
like we think it matters.

That my flaws are
just excuses for conversation
just things to say, admit
not to hide and justify.

That by being me
without restraint
is the way into the bosom of my family
because we’re all of one stock,
one blood, one lineage
let us compare notes
not give advice.

Let us come together
find what we have in common
uncover the stutters
and how we have dealt with them;
The social dis-ease
the low self-esteem
that doesn’t go
however we seem.

For me personally
it surrounds woman.
I hanker
for the female

The feisty female
solicits my advances;
but I stay back
In my eyes
I’m despised.

How could a woman
with hips and thighs
ever want to stare into these eyes?

I know,
I know,
I could wear a disguise
of adidas
and live a life
of work and strife
but that would
lead to a ball and chain
not a woman who’s mine
and who wants me.

Not some fiction
I create just to get
a whiff of fanny.

Thoughts inspired from backlog 1

Thought I’d post from my backlog. This one is from before I was a believer. Though I don’t actually place as much significance on the salvation issue. That is to say on the issue of figuring out the prerequisites for salvation… I don’t think there are any.

I believe that that lovely man 2000 years ago expressed in his personality the way into the the holy of holies. He showed us that we are on a rollercoaster predestined and being transformed into divinity in the loving hands of the master craftsman Yahweh who knows us!

His death on the cross and His resurrection made abundantly clear that there is nothing we could do that would thwart His love.

He knows our weaknesses. He knows the mainsprings of our actions and decisions. (He is the mainspring of our actions and decisions!) He knows us the way only our maker could and his thoughts are higher than our thoughts.

I believe in this review of “Lolita” I may have expressed Father’s comprehension and attitude towards us. Especially in the paragraph where I talk about traits. Of course not His full comprehension and attitude but the bit which is the foundation for our faith.

It is knowledge of our own wretched impotent condition – not evil or good in itself but in the grip of entropy. A time-lapse putrefaction that in itself has no hope but the one hope that comes to all at the end… of a saviour, of more Life and Light that is the salvation that matters! Life not some petty rebate from eternal pain.

Not forgiveness from a God who had nothing against you and to whom you, you puny worm, could do nothing that would warrant even a shifting of the pupil in Yahweh’s eye let alone something deserving of forgiveness!

How can you believe in Him if He doesn’t first reveal himself?

I have talked previously how we have faith in our senses; in so far as we believe that they inform us of a “real” world. We have faith on the basis of past experience that the ground will be hard when we walk on it. And so on…

God doesn’t demand that we lay down our normal basis of evidence. For me personally there have been two occasions on which I have experienced the glory of God. Like fire pouring through me. The first time got me sectioned… I appealed and they let me out.

I’ve actually been intending to write about those experiences. They kind of bracket this blog – in that after being sectioned within months or so I just lost belief… well I say that – I just couldn’t fit the experience and insight that I’d had into the christian box. Not any box for that matter.

I tried meditation and mindfulness. Got good at it! Spend a whole week not thinking once – moved around like it wasn’t me, like I wasn’t there. But it wasn’t the experience I’d had before.

That experience was full of understanding and language. Not telling me to do anything but just like having my internal monologue taken hold of and spewing forth the effluvia of understanding (damn it effluvia is the wrong word… sounds nice though).

All of that resulted in this blog.

And then this time – well september time last year (so a 5 year bracket) I began to experience a fiery heat pouring through me out of nowhere. And then all this insight into what the good news meant. Now I’m not saying I’m infallible – – I’ve refrained from talking about this because I don’t think it is at all relevant when considering the strengths and weaknesses of what I say – the words stand or fall on their own!

Plus I’m stoned and should probably link the review before I descend into the realms of nonsense. Effluvia… I swear that meant the stuff like waves… what is it a theory about our consciousness, decisions and objects of conscious… like flotsam on the sea… epiphenomenalism… could use epiphenomena… accurate but still it’s not effluvia.


Are we the fish, the bubble, the ripples or the whole pond?

People are a lot like ponds.

Sometimes a fish is swimming far beneath the surface and a bubble escapes from where ever it is bubbles escape from fish.

This bubble rises to the surface. It is knocked about by whatever turbulence is created by the creatures of the pond.

When the bubble reaches the surface it pops and ripples spread.

The behaviour of most people is just ripples.

These ripples come up against the ripples of other people.

Most people only see the ripples.

They take offence. They say “How dare you treat me like that?” and then retaliate.

It takes a sharp eye to see the bubble before it pops; it takes an open mind to ask the question “Where did that bubble come from?”

It takes open, non-judgemental conversation between two ripples to see the fish from whence the bubble came. 

Sadly we’re raised to be surface dwellers.

We’re raised to be scared of the depths.

We’re conditioned by “Stop asking so many questions!”, “Isn’t it obvious!” and of course the dastardly “It just is!” to not take the plunge and realize our depths.

The Fact of Death means you are Free whether you realize it or not

The one thing you really don’t want to happen is going to happen.

You’re going to die, my son.

Maybe not today or tomorrow.

Maybe not even this decade.

But…. It is the one thing you can be certain of.

They don’t call the ol’ ticker the ol’ ticker for no reason you know.

We all know this no matter how hard we try to divert our gaze from the fact.

Sure we make up stories to comfort ourselves in the face of that dark night.

The thing is your whole life is just one long extended, elongated last moment.

Every breath just a fraction of that last rattling gasp.

This is not a depressing message I am delivering despite appearances.

Oh no!

Once you realize the truth of what I am saying you’ll realize that nobody


Has got anything on you.

You know that secret you’re scared about people knowing?

That skeleton in the closet.


You know that thing you want to do but don’t because you’re scared of what people will think?


At the end of the day

    • and by day I mean life –

Do what you want.

Make yourself happy.

Take off your clothes and dance in the street.

Dance with the people you enjoy dancing with.

Because whether or not you do the worst thing you can imagine happening to you is going to happen.