Watched the beginning of the debate last night. I find it difficult to watch debates – conflict, even polite conflict, makes me nervous. My only observations are that Bush looked like a preacher, and Kerry looked like a cadaver, albeit a particularly animated cadaver. But then, he always does. Bush was bouncier than usual though; I want some of whatever he’s smokin’. Also: apparently I missed the announcement that Mary Cheney is now officially The World’s Most Important Homosexual Person. Congrats, I guess.
Recent conversations online and off have forced me to give thought to my spiritual side. Yes, apparently I have one, despite my protestations of not understanding what that word means. I’m also apparently capable of holding [at least] two complete, conflicting worldviews simultaneously – and yet somehow not feeling any dissonance. This disturbs me somewhat.
The fact is there is a font inside me which I rarely tap anymore, but which has not run dry. All it needs to prime it is a friend in need of encouragement. And once it gets started the words flow freely, spontaneously, and confidently. The process is assisted by my intellect, but unlike my usual mode it does not originate there. It comes from somewhere else, somewhere obscure. I can only call it Inspiration, but of what kind I cannot tell. I have had this as long as I can remember. There are times I have felt like nothing more than a mouthpiece – and resented it. Call it God/dess, call it my higher self, call it delusional, but it’s there and it contains a passion which I sorely miss.
When I am speaking from that place I am most at home speaking in terms of the Christianity/Messianic Judaism which I grew up in. What I have not determined is whether that belief system and worldview is an essential part of the voice, or whether it is simply the spiritual model I am most comfortable with. Sometimes I think I could speak with equal confidence in another model, if I were as fluent in any others. Sometimes I am not so sure, and I wonder if this is the faith of my youth calling me back after a wandering time. All I know is that when I speak from that place of inspiration I am sincere, I believe the words, and I have been told the words have power. How I can do this while simultaneously doubting the very foundations of my old faith I can’t understand. But I’m not lying. I’m not making it up as I go along. All I can tell those who hear me is to judge the words according to your heart, rather than on the faith of the speaker.