Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.

Writing is an escape from a world that crowds me. I like being alone in a room. It's almost a form of meditation- an investigation of my own life. It has nothing to do with - I've got to get another play ~ Neil Simon

Today feels somewhat sad to me. I lost a friend yesterday, and she is missed. May she rest in peace.

This essay lacks direction, and I feel almost lost, in a still place upon the turning earth. Reflecting on the death of Kathleen, it is difficult to imagine my own departure from life. I'm not sure where that path may lead, and my thoughts are random and loosely connected.

I have read a little about mortality; such works as the Elizabeth Kubler-Ross study On Death and Dying. She discusses five specific stages of the grieving process. I think it is more complicated than her explanation, and strongly influenced by the individual's thoughts and attitude towards religion and faith. Unfortunately my reading of such works as the Koran and the Christian Bible, the Torah and the Bagvadhita and the many other theological explanations have left me no better off or somehow enlightened.

Sometime in the past I became suspect of faith based ideologies. Subsequent investigation and a lot of thought led me to conclude that the concept of a creator or "God" is a human construct, an attempt to explain the unknowable, a desperate yearning to make some sense of the randomness of our existence.

I lack faith, and I'm not sure it was ever a part of me.

There are many people that believe in some sort of creator, and at times I envy the serenity their belief seems to give to them. Regardless of my efforts, I do not have faith as most people call it.

Faith is not a choice that can be made simply because one desires to possess it. I studied a philosopher that postulates that it is better to "believe" because if one does not profess faith and "God" exists, the consequence of a questioning attitude is eternal damnation. Further, he reasons, if "God" does not exist, the consequences are minimal. I'm not sure that I agree, having met a few religious zealots that seem bent on molding the world around their viewpoint.

When I was about five years old, in a sweltering church classroom, I asked a Sunday school teacher "If God made the universe, who made God?" Her response was, in a dismissive manner, "Does a chair question its maker?", . I still remember being puzzled with that answer! For that matter, today I see no resemblance between myself and a piece of furniture. Sixty years and I still ponder the elusive answer to my question...

Having no ready explanation for my surroundings is frightening at times. It leaves me with responsibility for my past, present, and future. I have no one to ask for forgiveness; repentance is a meaningless exercise. There is apparently no entity I can implore to relieve my misery or reward my good deeds. The mirror shows only my own image. At times the view is pleasant, at others it is poor. Sometimes it's cracked, but that's just the mirror, isn't it?

Roadkill. Is that what awaits us all? What irony that idea presents. No judgment for all our works, both good and bad. No Nirvana with seventy-two virgins or white raisins, depending on the translation? No Apocalypse to anticipate. If I'm wrong and you get called up, can I have your stuff?

Well, this is getting ponderous and boring, so now is a good time to stop. Maybe tomorrow I'll have the answer... 

Have you received it today?