I do not consider myself a religious person by any stretch of the imagination. Of course there’s been the occasional “Oh my God” uttered in the boudoir of a suitor or more often than that me staring at my own reflection the next morning after a late night hair coloring bender that didn’t go over so well. Word to the wise, bleaching ones hair at three o’clock in the morning with minimal lighting is always, always a tragedy in the making. Ask Marilyn Monroe. Oh, wait. You can’t. She’s dead. See what I mean?
But I digress.
Yes, I believe in hair color. Religion and the God thing? Not so much.
However, the older I get and the more I travel down this road we call life, I am starting to believe that there is something out there responsible for all of this, the world I know.
And I don’t necessarily mean that in a “there must be someone to blame for all of this bullshit” kind of way. Thanks to therapy, I’m still quite content looking at my parents with scorn whenever I feel put out or whiney when things go wrong. I once heard it said that therapy is a like a game you play where the answer to every question is “my mother”. Works for me.
No, I’m quite content blaming humanity for the ills of the world. Disease, famine, and poverty? We could control this these things if we worked together. Discrimination, inequality and racism? Ditto. But we won’t, it seems. Working together? We’re all too busy looking out for our own interests and ourselves. The well to do are only concerned with being well to do. The pretty are only interested in being pretty. You know what I mean.
But something (or someone) is responsible for all the beauty in the world. And though reading the local paper or watching the evening news might convince us there is no such thing, there is still a lot to appreciate in life.
I’ll take your rhetoric spewing, conservative politician clamoring for votes and counter him with my socially conscious activist who spends every waking hour busting her ass to make the world a cleaner, safer place to live. I’ll take your schoolyard bullies who think tearing someone else down because they are different is so fucking cool and defeat them with my group of friends that love me no matter who or what I am, which is so much fucking cooler.
I’ll take your indifference and hate and deflect it with my love every opportunity I can.
Something (or someone) is responsible for that.
You can call it God. You can call it a higher power. You can call it whatever you like. But whatever it is, it’s more compassionate, creative and far more intelligent than us mere mortals.
Now that’s something worth believing in.
