Not that kind of favor. This is harder.
I guess I’ve got some guts to be posting this on Easter Sunday, but gutsy-broaching-inappropriate-boundaries is one of the devilish charms of the Duck no? I say inappropriate because I’m hardly an
expert novice. Duh. But the idea just kind of stuck to me after a couple hours of all-about life discussion with my mother’s friend after dinner.
This wasn’t entirely the topic of debate, but it relates greatly to how I’ll be able to talk to him, and many more others, here on wordpress or otherwise – Religion.
Some of you may already know that I’ve had a couple loads of bad laundry. First one being I’d taken it upon my 11 year old self to blame Him because he took my father away. What can I say, I was 11. The second being labelled all assortments of colorful names by peeping protesters on the sidelines. Evidently, even my looks give off the vibes. Lastly, and my favorite, is being cleverly called a whore in front of my mother, then being told by the same person (sadly, the mother of my partner at the time) that she had faith in me, and then say she was disappointed in me.
Sometimes, I must take you guys, at least this bunch of you guys to be a joke.
The subject that really got me to thinking this was when my mother’s friend spoke of forgiveness. Now there is a number of morals that I really admire and agree with, and a handful that I digress. I’m just a hardheaded nut with equality, feminist issues, and gay rights. All the hard hitting touchy-feely stuff. Knowing the logic behind forgiveness is a very different deal from actually doing it. I go about the issue with the same determination I say to myself this is your last piece of chocolate/cookie/ice-cream.
Similarly, I knew all along the logic in that not everyone is going to be a crabby record, and it mighty sucked that I met quite a few simultaneously. It definitely did not help that I wished for all the worse to come so it could only get better. Or better yet, I just wished for hell’s fire in deliberate spite. I must say, the days I tortuously interrogated my fellow peers on their ideals and perspectives in which they were to have only known since childhood was a rather evil, but fun
That said, it’s been quite awhile and about time that I rebuke the fears of several things in the face of religion.
Maybe it sounds rather silly right now, but for the longest time I struggled to even bring myself to read a post that hinted in the praises of their God. Honestly, I’d just immediately back out of the page and conjure a brief silent apology to the writer that I won’t be reading their work. It scared me even more when I felt in agreement with the author as a whole, in the case that the beginnings failed to warn me, but questioned about my decision to ‘like’ anything, just in case they’ll also magically start preaching scriptures at my door step. It has happened before. In real life anyway.
It’s sad that my first impressions were of people abusing something I had otherwise delighted to learn. This was something I’ve never gotten the chance to ask anyone about while I grew up. It was something that I found fascinating and intriguing. Not entirely the truth for me personally, but it’s neither here nor there. I marvel just as much as the next person about the enormous diversity of life on this planet.That’s what I want to focus on. Learning.
Never mind that the mother had scoffed and said ‘I knew it’ when I stopped going to their church. For a number of reasons – one being it was my first time ever, so it was really a trial. It didn’t help much that we broke up. Other, also because it was greatly segregated by their language and culture. It’s all well, but there’s only so much attention and respect one can give to a two hour baptism ceremony in a foreign language. The pastor had apologized afterwards, he hadn’t realized it wasn’t going to be in English. But point made.
Maybe it’s the over exposure in which my mother’s friend likes to frequent the whereabouts of his wisdom with the words of God, or I just finally grew up a little, lost a little bit of that downy feather, feathers that’s very determined for the world to be black and white. I want to re-visit that ideology in which, though I did/do not encompass everything you might believe in, I want to learn about it.
It’s only right that I pass any kind of judgement, if any, after I’ve had the courtesy to partake in it, in however small minuscule way it may be. And it’s appreciated to be reciprocal. Otherwise it’s just cool to learn new things. A Duck knowing how to quack and squeal is no mere one trick pony.
I don’t know if this post was at all helpful to either audience. I sincerely hope that I did not offend anyone. For those who don’t believe in anything, my only thought is that there’s no point in so deliberately objecting something so prominent in our world. In the other sense, there’s not much to say against science either. I’m not much of a mediator. Just dropping a dose of my quack-a-donk.
Perhaps this is what people refer to when they say get back to your roots. Indeed, I will waddle about some more in my Duck nest. Find a few hidden treasures. Who knows, maybe one day the swan can take my plumage on for all it’s worth.
Note: Nervous Duck splatters everywhere. I’m just as terrified to post this as I was to read someone else post about it. The irony of life.