Zeus and Odin for Pearly Whites.

Here is the problem with religion so far as I can see it:

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humankind has answered its sense of mortality and insecurity in ways that, after centuries of rational battles, have been patently shown to be false. I rarely enter into religious arguments nowadays because, what’s the point? Either you understand rational truths or you don’t. Either you realise that there’s an infinity we can never comprehend, or you think that the trial that is your everyday existence is rewarded with eternal bliss.

Take a moment to try and understand eternal bliss. Think of the happiest thought you can. Then imagine re-living that moment of perpetual bliss for every moment that you will and ever could exist for, barring this, universally, tiny, painful, and … lifespan that dictates the rest of your eternal sense of being.

I enjoy the present, who I am, and what happens to me at the moment of my existence as I realise it. So, no matter what the truth might be, when I die I will experience something so alien to my conscious existence as I know it now that it might as well not concern me.

Which is easy for me to say; but it’s not like I never drop to my knees and pray. I did just that today, walking across Bruntsfield Links, a patch of grass in Edinburgh that is particularly pleasurable when viewed with a friend and some golf clubs, while a summer sun sets at around 9pm. And as a scorched, shining, rarity of a weekend passed away I dropped to my knees and prayed to the God(esse)s of the Weather that this could last as long as I desired.

Wouldn’t it be marvellous, joyous and blessed if we, the people who barely know what warmth is, were to bask in this heat for as long as we know we deserve. I implore you, Sun: burn me, bleach me, evaporate me.

When it’s sunny people appear. They must all be cooped up in their burrows until they blossom here in these arid conditions and realise that people aren’t just distant images in text, screen and sound, they move and exist. Perhaps now, if the heat persists, we can live through an upheaval, a social re-appraisal and re-imagining of what we actually are that isn’t 50+ years old.

And all of my pathetic dream rests upon the Weather to succeed. Fate as I appreciate it is held in Its personified hands. So I direct my irrational human desire for an answer from the Chaos not to moralistic, judgmental and totally inconsistent entities, but to the Weather, to an energy pattern we can barely understand our own influence of, to something that we rely on in an obsessive fashion, a force who’s existence we could never debate and are entirely beholden to, an unstoppable epoch of destruction and creation.

Now my baking, searing, parched, days have a purpose I never before could have imagined. Now my hatred of the clouds, the shadows and the icy wind is justified.

Join me, free yourself through God(esse)s you know exist but can never influence. Embrace the subsequent liberty.
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