ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

The Christmas spirit caught up with a couple more of the musicians from western countries today. So I guess yesterday was Christmas eve. The result was… a bunch of us had a party? Is that what I should call it? We went out, anyway, and had food and rotgut alcohol at a place I hesitate to call a restaurant–more like an alley that had been commandeered to serve food in. But we drank and sang Christmas carols until they literally threw us out. I drank only a tiny bit–it was terrible–but after nothing for so many months it went straight to my head.

Christmas carols are a kind of kirtan, too, you know. Songs about baby Jesus. I’ve had this revelation (no pun intended) before, that singing hymns can bring you closer to God. The only times I can really say I believed were times like that.

I know how it’s supposed to work. Those good feelings, we’re supposed to say they came from God, and the evil feelings, that make grown men who have taken chastity vows make passes at teenage boys, we’re supposed to say they came from the devil.

I reject that idea. Because if that is true, then I am a devil, and I should end myself. No true good can ever come of that worldview. Only temporary reprieves that drive people to desperate measures. The ability to experience sensual pleasure has to be a gift from God. It has to be. It is the only pleasure we experience, aside from eating, that makes us feel whole. It is not like the high of drugs or the oblivion of alcohol. It is something we’re born with.

Turning that gift into something ugly, that is my definition of sin. Of evil. Which means the church is evil.

Not that I can ever have that conversation with my mother. But that’s not what I’m calling to tell her. I’m calling to tell her I’m alive, that I haven’t forgotten her, and to hear that she’s alive, and hasn’t forgotten me.

Of course she hasn’t forgotten me. She wouldn’t be in such good care without me.

I tried to call again a little while ago and got a busy signal. My guess is that so many people are trying to make their Christmas calls that the lines are overwhelmed. That guy yesterday had better have given my message.

I tried to meditate after the call did not go through. I sat still and quiet. I followed my breath. My heart slowed.

It slowed so much I nearly passed out.