| Topic: |
Religions > Atheism |
| User: |
"Uncle Clover" |
| Date: |
02 Jun 2006 07:37:05 PM |
| Object: |
"Beulah" |
{A little bit of mystic-like whimsy to accompany you on this fine godless eve?
;-) }
"Beulah"
How many of us are born to break the molds of our ancestors?
For generations, on both sides of both sides of both sides of my family, we've
been good, church-going folk. We've stuck to what works, we've heeded tradition
and minded what our forebearers taught us. We haven't stirred the waters much,
'cept in a guilty, shameful way, but then we always struggled to make things
right before our final breath.
Somehow, we didn't think the world would ever come to this. We didn't think it
would go this far, we thought the Lord would have come and taken us away at
least two centuries ago, maybe more. But he didn't. And our kin, our children,
they still wait to be called home.
Maybe someday, I reckon, the angel, Gabriel will fly high in the sky and call on
the Rock to come forth from the ocean's depths...
Hm. Nah, that ain't right. We've been waitin' ever since we first had the
power of thought. The Lord hain't come back by now, I reckon he ain't never
gonna' come back. So what do we do?
What do we do.
What we do is we stick to what works. We go to church every Sunday, we pray
before bed every night and a'fore most every meal. But you know, sometimes, you
can tell it. We ain't the same as we used to be. Everything's different now.
The world has changed. We don't fit the forms set out for us by our ancestors
no more. And the church, it don't bring us no peace. It's as if...
....as if...
....all the molds are broken, and there ain't no more any way to get home.
Sincerely,
Beulah
**********************
<back to Bill>
Sometimes I swear I can feel the voices of my ancestors stirring around within
the depths of my cells. As though those portions of my genes which come from
them still bear the imprint of their will. As if their hopes and their dreams
never really sunk into the grave with them, but are somehow still restless and
moving within me.
I never knew Beulah, but I'd heard bits and pieces about her. I picture her as
a younger woman than she is today (if still she lives - I'm not 100% sure of
that), standing on a sandy, warm beach, the sky gleaming with amber and bronze
colors, the ocean a sea of golden sunlight reflected all the way from the
horizon to the shore as a gentle wind chases tiny waves with rhythms to match a
sleeping heart. She stands with a bandana around her head, the kind of plain
brown dress which would have been more common for her age. She resembles my
grandmother a lot - they are sisters, after all - with her stone gray eyes and
high, noble cheek bones (the hint of Spanish in our veins). She's a handsome
woman with a weathered and toughened manner about her, and the piety so typical
for her time. She stares at the blazing amber horizon towards the bright,
setting sun as waves leak diminutively into indiscernible chaos not even a mile
from shore. She sighs, she is wistful.
I do not love this woman, this Beulah. I never knew her, there's no reason why
I should. But we share some common genes, and that which is in me senses that
which was in her, and love her or hate her, I on some profoundly deep level I
cannot explain - I -know- her. She was noble in her own way - no, not from the
bit of British monarchy flowing in her veins (there was a trace, you know - from
the House of Lords), but from her pride. She knew where she stood in reference
to the rest of the world, the universe, others. She stood above some and below
others, but forever below the main one in her mind - God, of course. Those
genes we share - I wonder if they ever wish they could crawl out of this body -
that of an homosexual atheist... I wonder if they exist in any radically
different state in my body than they did in hers, seeing as how we are two
radically different outcomes.
Ah, but Beulah. I've always been entranced by her name, her picture, her
memory, all for reasons I may never understand.
Sleep well tonight, dear Beulah. The mold hasn't broken, it's just been
reshaped by the world. And home? It's never more than a heartbeat away.
Goodnight, Beulah.
<fade to black>
--
L8r,
Uncle Clover
************************************************
The true mark of a civilized society is when its
citizens know how to hate each other peacefully.
************************************************
"A disappearance is when someone has vanished.
A tragedy is when they were photogenic."
- a.t-c's Bo Raxo, paraphrased.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"If you look at the whole life of the planet,
man has only been around for a few blinks of an
eye. So if the infection wipes us all out,
that _is_ a return to normality..."
- Sergeant Farrell, "28 Days Later"
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
.
|
|
| User: "Uncle Vic" |
|
| Title: Re: "Beulah" |
02 Jun 2006 09:45:12 PM |
|
|
Once upon a time in alt.atheism, dear sweet Uncle Clover
(UncleClover@SpamMeNot.com) made the light shine upon us with this:
{A little bit of mystic-like whimsy to accompany you on this fine
godless eve? ;-) }
"Beulah"
How many of us are born to break the molds of our ancestors?
For generations, on both sides of both sides of both sides of my
family, we've been good, church-going folk.
<Yoda>
Church not make one good.
</Yoda>
--
Uncle Vic
aa Atheist #2011
Supervisor, EAC Department of little adhesive-backed "L" shaped
chrome-plastic doo-dads to add feet to Jesus fish department
The laws that require me to NOT kill people I don't like REALLY bug
me, or there would be many less of YOUR kind.
-John Weatherly
.
|
|
|
|
|
