B55) A Conversation with God (part 2)

After the storm passed the yard re-opened. I headed to the library as I heard new books were in. New books are always a big deal. I enjoy reading. This was a gift from my mom. I learned to enjoy reading even more after getting locked in a cage. Had it not been for reading I would have surely gone crazy much sooner.

I estimate having read over a thousand books during my tenure as a convict. I kept track of the books for the first couple of years. At one point I was reading a book a day but that kind of reading schedule depended upon two things;

• 1. Access to books i.e. the library.
• 2. Being locked in a cage for hours on end, day in and day out getting a first class dose of state sponsored “rehabilitation”.

When I was reading a book a day I was reading novels mostly. A biography here and there. I read a wonderful biography about Howard Hughes in my second year in prison that stands out. The philosophy I read was limited to the prison library. They were very limited in that department as there was not much demand for philosophy, eastern or otherwise. I did find the book, Man’s Eternal QuestParamahansa Yogananda's Collected Talks and Essays. This was an amazing find. I came across this book my first year locked up. It helped. It was the right book at the right time.

Every cell block I ever walked into had books on the floor just outside cell doors. Placing books there was an indicator these books had been read and now looking for a new reader. I believe each book has a voice. Some screaming to be read, some muttering to be read.

Exceptional books would get hand delivered from one convict to the next. You would be surprised how many Danielle Steele novels you would find in prison cells. I think that’s so funny, Danielle Steele. I read a few of her books. I think she’s a great writer! My favorite Danielle Steele book is Heartbeat and I love the poem in the book as well.

I spent more than a few night reading Danielle Steele’s books often I was up until three or four in the morning. Better for me to read these books late into the evening so the water works were witnessed by none. Who wants or needs to see a full grown man convict crying like a baby over some fictional character (a soldier ) dying in a tunnel while chasing the enemy during the viet nam war. Please.

When I got to the library the professor pointed to the boxes on the floor. The professor was the inmate (clerk) in charge of the library. They called him the “professor”because he was the only inmate applying for the library clerk’s position that finished Junior high school. I read somewhere the average level of education for an inmate in the Arizona department of corrections was forth grade and the national average was fifth grade. Or visa versa. There is a direct connection between education and crime. Everybody knows this but the criminal justice systems is run my medieval thugs Hell-bent on keeping things the same. Sobeit.

The professor knew what I was there for but the books had not been processed. I took this opportunity to help out with processing the books into the library. The professor was a good guy as far as I could tell. He would often steer me towards good books. Because of his job in the library the professor was someone I wanted to be on good terms with. Being on good terms with inmates in key clerking positions on the yard was a task worth handling. While we inventoried the books I set aside what interest me.

I came across a book titled Conversations with God, by Neale Donald Walsch. Normally I wouldn’t touch a book like this. It’s been my experience books with the word “God” in the title are typically religious books, books about Christianity and that’s not my cup of tea. I have no stomach for organized religion in general. All my life I found “religious”people (mainly Christian’s) to be the worst hypocrites. I think we all have some hypocrisy within us. Maybe it’s something to do with the human condition? Almost every Christian I ever met said one thing and did another. Lie, cheat and steal and worse. Much much worse. Then they to go church, throw a few bucks in the bowl and call it even with their God. No, I don’t want to be like that. I want nothing to do with those people and that religion……… or any religion.

I understand the need for God. I have that need too. But I would never or could never accept a “God” that had wants or needs. I could never swear allegiance to a god defined by words like, "Fear", “jealous” and “obey”. No sirree Bob. That is not how I would define God. The God I would “pray” to would never have me live in fear of God.

Deep inside there is part of me that knows the creator of all life could only be defined by words like, Unconditional Love, Acceptance and Forgiveness.

Someday I will find the God of Love and I will merry my spiritual beliefs to that God. Until then I am going to keep looking.

Something about this book, Conversations with God was demanding I read it. Maybe its because what happened earlier out on the recreation field? I checked the book out and took it with me.

After my evening plate of gruel, a meal that reminded me more of soilent Green than it did of real food, I walked the track. Alone. I needed to be alone. I wanted to be alone. I walked lap after lap thinking about what happened earlier on the rec field. I thought about my phone call home to my daughter and about our conversation. I thought about the storm, the voice, the conversation I had with……………….....................with…...........................................……… the storm.

I began to contemplate the meaning of my earlier admissions and the circumstances surrounding it. Did that really happen? And how do I fully own this experience? What can I do to further my effort to be in the here and now?

The words “I did this” continue to echo in my mind. I said it over and over again along with“I have no one to blame but myself”.

Eventually the yard is locked down for the evening and I am back in my cubical. At the point in the evening where the TV’s go off, this is my time to do serious reading and writing. This is my favorite time of the day because everyone but me is asleep. It’s nice and quiet in the dorm. This is as close as I get to being alone.

Because of what happened earlier on the recreation field I grabbed my journal and made an entry:

Dear God,

What more do you want from me? How much more pain are you going to inflict on me? How much more suffering will you have me do?

Chip…

I put my journal away and picked up the book, Conversations with God and began to read. It did not take long before I sat up and grabbed my journal. The letter to God I’d written moments ago looked eerily similar to the letter the author wrote to God. This coincidence made the book more interesting immediately.

As I continued to read I liked what I was reading. I savored each word and often reread paragraphs and pages over and over again. This is brilliant, I thought, it reminded me of eastern philosophy.

It had been a full day and I eventually ran out of gas. I put the book down and fell asleep.

When the sun came up the following morning everything was different and I mean everything. I woke smiling. It was more than just a smile because I felt wonderful. I felt incredible. I felt like I was glowing with Love and radiating Joy. This was more than feeling something. I was experiencing something. I was experiencing Love and Joy inside my mind, my heart, my soul. It was cataclysmic, earth shattering and euphoric. I remember thinking people are going to be able to see how different I am. Some of this feeling reminded me of how I felt in the delivery room when my daughter was born.

Twelve hours ago I felt as if I literally was in Hell. Hell on earth. Twelve hours later I am certain this is heaven. How do I explain it? How am I supposed to explain this? All I can come up with is God. As I slept that night I had been touched by the hand of Love (God). What other force is powerful enough to do something like this, turning this god forsaken Hell on earth into Heaven.

God is now part of my life.

I am going to be yet another convict that found God. How painfully unoriginal. The fact it’s so cliché doesn’t elude me. Explain it however you like, I was high on God.

It all made sense. Life. My life. The pain, the sorrow. The love, the joy. For the first time in my life everything made perfect sense. This all had to happen in order for me to get here. Mentally. Spiritually. Fortunately I had the right concoction of life events and experiences that would lead to this spiritual epiphany. I’ve heard the voice, felt the presence and now I feel the hand of God in my life. After refusing to believe, then wanting and needing to believe, I now know. There is a God. Only God Could have done this to me. I’m not totally comfortable with the word “God”. The word God is feels much too constrained and limited. I prefer the reference to God in The Ra Material, The One Infinite Creator .

Thankfully I was never brainwashed into believing in God like most people. It was a gift NOT having a steady dose of religion shoved down my fucking throat during my childhood. Thanks mom and dad for NOT doing that. We did get exposed to some religion. Some church going. At the age of nine I remember thinking this cannot be true. I do not believe these people represent God. I could see it in their eyes. Their eyes were full of lies.

Being that perceptive at the age of nine was a gift.

When you brainwash a child into believing something, then that child makes a statement of belief, I always think to myself, so what. You were brainwashed. All you are doing in regurgitating material you were brainwashed with. I wonder, how is that real? How is perpetuating the same fear and evil a representation of God?

It's not.

I don’t think those people (those belonging to fear based religions) really believe. Maybe one percent of them live lives of true faith and true belief. The rest are all a bunch of fucking liars, fakes and fonies.

Wanting to believe and belief are two different things. Just like wanting to know and knowing. In their heart of hearts they want to believe but are filled with more doubt than belief.

“Fear God”. What a bunch of bullshit.

“Obey God”. More bullshit!

"Jealous God". How do people pray to a god that is jealous?

If anyone expects me to believe the power that created the universe, hundreds of billions of galaxies, trillions upon trillions of life forms and this force needs my obedience?  Fuck you! Fuck you and the horse you road in on!

What a bunch of bullshit.

This is brainwashing.

Brainwashing is not believing!

Brainwashing is brainwashing. It’s sick, disgusting, cruel and it does not serve our society or our planet. It serves only the institutions that enslave these mindless automatons within it.

Some day everyone is going to wake up. I believe this in my heart.

The God of fear is a false God and soon enough going to die a quick death.

Why is this not intuitive? The reason people need to be brainwashed about religion is because everyone knows deep down inside the god of fear is a false god. People lack the courage to stand apart from their fellow "believers". It's easier to go along with the herd if you are a sheep.

If you have to be brainwashed into believing, what have you accomplished. That’s not true faith.

This is what I now know:

Love is a state of mind.

Misery is a state of mind.

There is a God!

I don't have faith. I don't need faith.

I know.

I value the distinction between wanting to know and knowing.