the Belief Thing or i'm a pain in the arse consensus

A day doesn't go by without some moments being involunatarily devoted to the great conundrum. Faith. Belief. What's it all for. Ego. Buddhism. Conventional religious dogmas.

How most play havoc and demand complete absolution of the individual spirit. That's the ego bit - and not a bad concept on it's own....

How the collection of stories in the books of religion are hermetically sealed from open and fruitful examination.

How an annecdote passed around a group of friends and small community changes from one person to the next and is accepted as "gossip"...how media reports which demand our respect as "truth" are often nothing more than opinion pieces.

And how is this any different from the many versions of each formal religion or spiritual dogma collection of writings that had their birth thousands and thousands of years ago.

I am no different from the vast majority of people i know... in that my inner self has not stopped seeking "an answer". I practically beg for a neatly packaged answer to life, death, the universe, cruelty, inhumanity, selfishness to be dropped into my pysche and wham: i'm attached. Done. The quest is over. The whole shebang is solved.

The way forward to the end of my life is neatly sorted. Like the birthday pressie. Something good yet to come, that will make the wait oh so worth while.

But i perpetually come unstuck. And here's why. It's the inevitable question thing that drives all my friends and new acquaintances completely and utterly demented. "Pain in the arse"...."incredibly intense"....."just stop"......

There is now uncontrovertable and overwelming scientific evidence that the timelines denoted in the major books of formal religions describing the birth of the universe and man is wobbly, imaginative and designed to provide a good read easy to digest for the vast populaces.

Unless you're like my mammy who thinks any and all of this is a total conspiracy and work of the "devil". A lot of these people in the world too. Fear. that's what i call that. Fear that close examination and robust debate will throw up a fishing net of gaping holes and all those little fishes will swim free.
Any belief system which can not and will not tolerate open, confronting, intellectual examination and uses in its defense "faith must believe completely and put aside human weakness. Because that is the "sinfulness" of man.....to try and defend the rational, thinking gift..." well.....i just can't go there.

I accept the core mystery of, for example, the "love" factor. The scientific research community will blow that mystery out of the water however. They will provide a minutely detailed step by step set of pointers. The final "boom" might still elude me, but those flashing neon signs will be based in proven theory. I'm talking the scientific theory: a proven set of reasons for "why is this so".....

On the same basis i accept that scientific endeavours to find out what and where are the outer reaches of our universe and what's beyond go significantly towards understanding the beginning of life. (but not all. I do wonder how anyone ever will manage to explain rationally, that we the simple folk can understand too, how did the very first begin? Give me that, and i'll stop looking for faith. but in the meantime, can i let go of this need?)

I also accept that i DO want a belief system that will make easy sense of my own life and the whole damn thing.

And that at some point then , if that is my heartfelt desire, then i shall probably have to let go of my driving quest to have an answer to all the big questions. Because, quite simply I don't know and i'm not that smart to make sense of the convoluted big guns in existence theory, quantum physcis, black matter, etc.

This is where i just come undone. How can i proceed forward with any degree of respect for any dogma which demands complete, unquestioning belief in the fundamentals of the tenets of belief that have been patently fiddled with, tweaked, adapted and edited into a palatable collection of fables and annecdotal accounts around a series of factual events - which by the way, happened, depending on whom your listening to, with up to a couple of hundred years difference.

How can i possibly embrace any religious belief system which demands absolute abeyance of and in fact decries human endeavours of intellectual reassurance and comfort.

How can i possibly embrace any religious belief system which demands unquestioning and complete acceptance as "absolute truths" of written stories presented as literal and exact absolutes which for the most are accepted by even these religious own hierarchal theologians as heavily edited, chronologically inaccurate parables and annecdotes which have been carefully chosen and massaged by successive religious fathers to best present that belief systems fundamental tenets of faith in order to keep the general populace in a manageable state with carefully delivered kernels of hope to sustain populations of the past through some pretty grim times of poverty, war, wasteland, vicious and cruel metres of justice.

Buddhism comes closest. It is my ego that brings me undone. Every day, in every way. It has caused me to lie, to short cut, to deceive myself, to be rude, arrogant, unkind, uncaring, with a lack of care and foresight to those around me. Too little do i ask and then abide by this simple question...."how do i wish to be treated? Then do that for everyone else" There is just the wee issue of no drink and no killing....there are some joys in life like french champagne and death to all toads! ouch!

Here endeth today's personal rant. It's a groundhog thing. As i said. Tomorrow i'll do this again. But not here. Once is more than enough you patient patient person if you're still here.

Knees Up

Knees, i've just realised, are the universal common link between sex and religion.

Spidey over there is a Red Kneed Spider. Normal knee piccies were tres pedestrian and kneed piccies of other sorts were not going to pass muster on a family friendly page. Hence you get Spidey, Spidey and don't forget to click the title link cos it takes you to a fascinating blog all about arachnid matings......nothing directly to do with knees, but blogs are all about lateral turnings.

Of any variant for both (sex and/or faith) One is on one's knees quite a lot during sex, in various poses methinks and one is urged to be on ones knees preferably both at frequent intervals as prerequisite to being a diligent supplicant, apart from the whirling dervishes, of course.

I've even found a christian reference for Knee-trembling sex.... which features, much to my surprise....a doggy on the stairs. Oh, don't believe me then. just go look.

However age wearieth them. The Knees in this case. And it puts a bit of a dash in the pash for tremmbling of any persuasion with the trembling beginning a ha, how should one put this delicately....before the tremblings should?

I will happily admit to a) being 18plus b)having knees that are proving wearisome when tired and c)humm, well, being being in a "position "...(such a bad pun)....where knee health has suddenly assumed priority importance.

All videos, dvds and self help manuals for Kama Sutra, etc should be sold with 2 pairs of knee pads. By law. And all churches should have hymnals, prayer mats and yes, knee pads. Free.

Then we could kneel in appropriate and reverent supplication for hours and hours and hours........Orgiastic fervour perhaps?

Xanthoula

A greek friend has explained that "Xanthoula" means little blonde. Of course that piqued my feminine ego to have the diminutive included as description of self. Diminutive is not something often accorded to moi as any kind of description. Either in personality or form. But there's most definitely a very small inner me longing for an outing.


Greek? This cross bred celtic something teutonic 7th generation australian anomoly? It's all to do with RSVP. The scourge of lonely, single, something adults.


None of us are supposed to admit for our yearnings of comfort and warmth that comes with a close, happy intimate relationship.


It is expected that one will have dealt with the detrious that is the "baggage" of emotional fall out from previous relationships and the traumas of same.


We're supposed to have happy, fulfilled, balanced, adult, sensible, busy, busy, busy lives with the messy bits carefully fluffed and arranged for public sanitisation.


And believe me RSVP is time consuming. There's the angst of doing one's profile. It's a mine field of hidden meanings. Then the angst of what if no one sends a stupid "kiss". The angst of responding or not. The angst of truth or massaged or just how massaged and when and where does one stop.
The angst of just when to meet, when not to, how to check them out ....axe murderer, pain in the butt, anally retentive, dorian greys...and Oh God, the angst of ones own appearance close up.
I'm a virgo. Think anally retentive multiplied by a sqillion times and you're pretty well on the mark.
Wrinkles and dimples.
Botox and injectible clinics should be offering complimentary pre RSVP date make overs in return for publicity of successful dating hook ups.
The online dating phenomen is here to stay until the next gen. dating development; gradually becoming less of the social pariah, but still subject to sniggers and titters from those privileged couples, safely ensconsed in their kingdom of coupledom.
OK that's the rant. You want the dirt.
Two, almost three face to face meetings. I've gone international. Italian, Greek, Estonian. Borne out in my wisdom by the ABC news this morning that a study carried out by Oxford University showing Australian husbands are the least desirable in the world - due to their inherent laziness and non participation in the household. And as we all know my very personal dislike of anything German in light of...the war of course!!
Some really nice email exchanges. Porkies in terms of age, height. Bearing in mind my respiratory consultant's admonition ....."(men) they are completely self absorbed"...i'm prepared to be generous in my judgement here, however it's not looking good for the blokes.
THis is entertainment and sometimes fun and often excruciating. The "wardrobe" door has to be opened each time so that t'other side has a chance to assess your own veracity, motives, mental acrobatics and boy is this hard. I'm not sure it's cathartic in terms of dealing with any of the very recent dung heap of my former marriage. In fact after one episode this week i'm convinced that it has been positively retro.
The upside is that i'm learning that i'm not prepared to misrepresent my life or who i am. It isn't fair on anyone else and it definitely is not fair to myself. On this basis i can fairly well predict that RSVP and me will be sharing birthdays for some time yet.
You want to provide suggestions? oh, all right.....go to RSVP (rsvp.com.au) Look for "iamxanthe". Only sensible ones please. Perhaps my personality in 10 words or less - guaranteed to perfectly summate the winning attributes that make me me.....

reason interruptus

Life is different since the last posting. Minus German husband. Everything has been really quite ordinary.
From the german husband's delusional obsession with the living doll Korean homestay student, to the admissions of same said german husband of systematic cruelty for years, etc. etc.
Designed to hurt of course. And absolutely hit the target - bullseye.
I was swiped, wiped and more. Which is so very strange as the marriage was a complete disaster.
And a disaster from very very early stages. Five years of complete alone-ness; physically, emotionally, intimacy.
Those who haven't been in an abusive relationship ask "why did you stay?" Those who have been, don't.
It's far, far too early to feel "better" and that "things are for the best". It's not early enough to be aware of the people who choose sides and exact betrayal.
I've always wondered about betrayal. Is it the grand delusion carried out by those who would deflect from their own tarnish? Turn the glinting spotlight onto a trapped, vulnerable rabbit. Haul it's trembling hapless little carcass onto the shiny steel for a spot of brutal vivisection. Oooops: no anaesthetic? Why bother. Kindliness isn't high on the list of the Brutus branch of the RSPCA.
No new news here for those who have trodden this very weary path.
Worse: the refuge of dignity is denied. I've rarely been one of those who can summon up retreat into dignified silence. Given a choice between dignity and squealing; i squeal. Loudly, badly.
One has a lot of not sleeping time along with an equal amount of brain in mindless ruminating motion time.
For some reason however; when the german moved the object of 2nd obsessional desire into to his quarters in the shed, common sense kicked in and i realised that karma is right. Living, sleeping, working in a small industrial/commercial premises shed with no washing facilities, no kitchen, no natural daylight with a very young backpacker....well.......
the bookies paid up.
I can't say i am filled with joy about my life. But i can say i know it is better. I don't "feel"
the better yet - but it's coming.
This is such a dull post i've not managed to think of one, just one, inventive link. That is not strictly true - i've thought of a lot; however they're not dignified. Cruelly funny, just not nice.
Best left.
Perhaps next time

Tale about a Ssssnake

There are some truly depraved and genuinely remorseless scoundrels in this world.

I think most of us feel that these ssssnakes will at some stage get their comuppance - but that, my friends plays into their cold blooded veins and amoral ways. These individuals are cunning, living in the shadows, slithering in and out of decent peoples lives and leaving nothing but a slimy trail of dubious excrescence behind them.

These are the people who mouth outrage at intrusion into their "personal lives" when there is a chance they may be rumbled. These are the people who assiduously construct gossamer towers of multiplicitous deceit.

Yes; i'm feeling very personal on this. I have discovered something about a very close friend's partner and i can NOT tell. Why - i hear a deafening scream. Wouldn't you want to know? - i also hear you say. Well yes, i would. But some don't. And who are we to make this decision for those who don't. And how am i to know which camp my friend inhabits?

My friend's partner of some years - i've discovered - has consistently during this period had multiple concurrent sexual partners without sexual protection. My friend is a smart, very hard working person who is the breadwinner of this partnership.

Dear little ssssnake-y, meanwhile says it's single, entertains the conquests in my friend's bed, says there's no income coming in from the commission only sales position. Claims the apartment is ssssnakey's alone.....

How did i stumble upon ssssnakey's true colours? i just happened to mention ssssnakey's name at lunch one day and one of my fellow lunch guests went white as a sheet and then asked me a series of very telling questions about ssssnakey and friend's lives over the last years AND admitted she was very close to one (of many)of sssssnakey's conquests. Shattered was lunch guest, shattered am i and how about my friend? I asked how many he's running and at least 2 reasonably serious....

Whatever "serious" means to a sssssnake.

My friendship is lost - right at this point, on many levels. Do i tell? Don't I? The fact i know and what i know - the humiliation of being cuckolded by sssssnakey in so many ways and that this knowledge is now, accidentally, out there. Because as we all know, once a word is spoken, there is no way of retraction and scandal has a life of its own.

But as i stalk ssssnakey with knowledge, i know that if one has patience, and looks for the opportunity then it shall come and this snake hunter will make a deadly pounce.

And ssssnakey - i hope you read this - you will be nothing but a flattened dried up bit of leathery skin!

wheely, truly, madly

The young lady to your left is Miss Flynn Bailey Fitzgerald. Bit of a smiler isn't she!

And why not - she's just taken delivery of her brand new Wheely Bug somewhat aptly named "Beatriks Bee". Not often that a brand new "motor" is delivered to your door, especially when that door is about 8,000kms from source.

Wheely Bugs are an Australian made award winning toy that encourages development of gross motor skills - i got this off the blurby stuff. And it is true! They do.

To be honest, i'm madly jealous. I wanted to jump aboard and wheel around with gayful abandon - however at nigh on xxxx kilos and with knees that take 4 hours to limber up for any bend more acute than 45 degrees - the next best option was to relive youthful exuberance vicariously via Flynn, my dearest girlfriend Colleen's first and thus far, only, borne. Colleen - are you hearing me - this is a very large hint - that you collect yourself and your husband and go make more babies. One for you, one for him, one for me and one spare!

But to doting Token Aunts, Gran mama's etc, these zoomers are just the business for little totties. They are So very groovy and Funky. Wheely Bugs come in various guises; cute as a button Mini Moos, busy bees, mousey, and famously of course, Tigger the Tiger.

They're safe as houses.....and having been most carefully examined by the relevant powers that be, judged to be seriously good for little Flynn folk.

Wheely Bugs go backwards, forwards, sideways, round and round. They are able to be pushed (as you can see), ridden and pulled. Of sturdy construction with multi directional castors, nicely padded and ruff tuff vinyl clad that's easy to wipe down.

Being one of those women of a certain age, sans children, it is a small miracle that i knew EXACTLY where to find a Wheely Bug. http://www.funkygifthampers.com.au/ - that's where.

Justine, who owns this very very groovy business, sells not only Wheely Bugs, but INTG (In the Night Garden) and Captain Sportacus and amazing gift hampers to be delivered anywhere in Australia.

Now i'm off to learn all about the good Captain who hails from Finland and apparently has a sidekick called Robin(?). Can't be. Will report back.

points not pints & saving Buddy from the bullet

Bacchus isn't likely to do a doorstop at my place any time soon. He'd be getting coke and carbs. The image here is of a bacchinalian festivity.....i thought i'd put it in to remind myself of what once was
Despite my many blandishments, entreaties, sleights of the celery stick i languish in the world of stodge and german(s)
It is an ongoing fester. Those pathetic 20 points i've been allocated by the greater beings of weightwatchers - it's like a google algorithm determined by age, height, weight (i wonder why), occupation, etc.
I did pretty well day one, all things considering.
But time to come home and face the stove for the beloved (german) and all things broke loose. It was more than a few drops of any pint i needed. i ached for food. real food. not this 0 point vegetable business.
One is supposed to write down every itty bitty morsel that passes through the food orifice. This is so one manages to add up those 20 points. terrible idea.
Day 2 today: won't even talk about it.
But will talk about Buddy. Bumped into - No, i went looking for, the lovely Sarah Bell, artist, mother and soon to be new homemaker for Buddy the reject collie from somewhere near Rockhampton. Sarah and Roger have Osprey Blinds, just up the road from us and are on Luce's regular calling list. Luce being the Italian greyhound, for those who don't know. He's the one who is the most regular cause of my wallet being empty due to emergency vet visits.
Buddy is about to be shot, apparently, if no good home can be found for him. So Buddy is being rescued by the Bell family and will be coming to his new home on the 19th - obviously not a moment too soon.
Sarah, Roger and their two boys, Henry and Louis live in green surrounds, near Cooran and are busy making safe the area for Buddy's arrival. Lucky, lucky Buddy. Sarah said that Buddy's legs were too short to be a good working dog and there's no room for short legged collies from his neck of the woods.
I can't begin to describe my revulsion and horror at Buddy's alternatives.
I like Sarah. She's a very talented artist besides being an obviously compassionate soul.
we have another Sarah in our neighbourhood. She is also on Luce's visiting list; however lower as Other Sarah doesn't produce biccies.
aahhhh. relief - i got back to food. how neat was that. very tidy i do think.