Religion, like Love, do not change me. It reveals who I really am. Sometimes I wish I never stumbled into Love’s trap. With all its bait of honey, joy, happiness, paradise, contentment and beauty, Love is ultimately an event. Perhaps THE EVENT of them all. And like events, it has its moments, only to drift away a second later.
But Love is also the brightest and truest mirror of them all – and when Love catches your reflection in its bright shiny surface – what does it reveal? Ah, my friends – you have come to know me, the sinner, for all I am worth. In order words, worthless really. For the longer I spend my time fussing with my make-up and posing like a peacock before Love’s Mirror, the uglier I appear to become. All my unsightly hairs, warts and blackspots appearing on my soul’s skin like truth out of the swamp of my contemplation.
Then I turn away quickly, protesting, “This is not me! This is not me!” But if this is not me, then who is this ugly duckling looking back at me across the mirror? And if this is not me, then where am I?
What a turn of event, isn’t it, pet? Just an hour or two ago I was posting up a typically happy-sinner poem, and now here I am – tired and worn, battered and torn.
Happiness? It is also an event, and comes and goes without our fully comprehending it. Okay, I was not ecstatic, but at least I was contented awhile back. Then out of the blazing blue, a sms arrived into my cellphone, full of dissatisfaction. I opened the sms, read it and switched off my cellphone.
No doubt even this Sad Event would pass away, I know. Really, of that I am certain. But while this sorrow lingers, who else can I turn to? Who else can accept this sinner, with his appalling habits and laziness? Yes, sunshine, I have to turn to God and His Prophet. I turn to Love as the Only True Essence, seek its embrace and cower my face into its welcoming bosom. “The world is painful today…”, I would mutter, “Oh, I am so happy I have you to turn to….” I say this with no arrogance, because when all of creation is hurtful, only the Creator suffices to cool my injured pride.
After all, from Love, I have nothing whatsoever to hide.
I continued to sigh alone in front of my emo-breakfast. Then suddenly, whispered into me by a long dead soul were these words –
The world is used in two ways,
As a carrot to bait you to the Lord,
And as a stick to chase you to the Lord.
Either way should that not make you happy?
And look closely at the world again,
And at the hand holding the carrot and stick,
Does it not look strangely familiar?
Does it not look strikingly like yours?
*Sigh* Well, what can I say... the dead dude is right after all. So I am switching on my cellphone again. You can call if you wanna, sunshine.