reasons to believe

why have any religions at all? i can think of good and bad reasons. good includes socials and nice music. soaring, glorious music; what of the fact that soaring music encourages dissociation? is that the enduring state that all religion leads to?

now, yes-- all the religions are different; Buddhism and Catholicism couldn't be more different, could they? we are told that Buddhism doesn't even sanction believing in anyone. Buddha is not a godhead.

but they are the same in brandishing ritual and rules: anything to break you from everything you know. but from there, because that break may just be the best thing for you, don't they take you in exactly the opposition direction from where they claim to be leading you? to the truth?

we might say that the truth lies within you; then why do each of these rule that possibility out? a theory occurred to me yesterday. religion as panacea for a ubiquitous OCD. how few of us unfurl complete confi- dence every day? religion gives you an approving voice at all time, as long as you pay the dues. and raw energy is dispersed in endless, mindless ritual.

'opiate for the masses,' yes. "Religion is, indeed, the self-consciousness and self-esteem of man who has either not yet won through to himself, or has already lost himself again." temper this by the fact that it could also be zoloft or pel mells, or GTOs or viagra, or baked potatoes with sour cream: anything that tells you, in a very gentle voice, how okay you really are.

just think: if you really believed that, they could sell you nothing. nothing! not Lutheranism nor betty crocker nor anything else. and your terrors would all belong to you again, and
your salvation.

her parrot accomplice

MAY COLVEN

False Sir John a wooing came
To a Maid of beauty fair,
May Colven was
this Ladys name,
Her Fathers only Heir.

He woo'd her butt,
he woo'd her ben,
He woo'd her in the Ha';
Until he got
this Lady's consent,
To mount and ride awa'.

He went down to
her Father's bower,
Where all the Steeds
did stand;
And he's taken one of
the best Steeds,
That was in her Father's hand.

He's got on, and she's got on,
And fast as they could flee,
Untill they came to a lonesome part,
A Rock by the side of the Sea.

Loup off the Steed says false Sir John,
Your bridal bed you see;
For I have drowned Seven Young Ladies,
The Eight one you shall be.

Cast off, Cast off, my May Colven,
All and your silken Gown,
For it's o'er good, and o'er costly,
To rot in the Salt Sea foam.

Cast off, Cast off,
my May Colven,
All and your
embroider'd shoen,
For they are o'er good,
and o'er costly
To rot in the Salt Sea foam.

O turn you about
O false Sir John,
And look to the leaf
of the Tree;
For it never became
a Gentle Man,
A naked Woman to see.

He turnd himself straight round about,
To look to the leaf
of the Tree;
So swift as
May Colven was,
To throw him
in the Sea.

O help, O help my May Colven,
O help, or else
I'll drown;
I'll take you home to your Father's bower
And set you down safe and sound.

No help, no help you false Sir John,
No help nor pity thee;
Tho' seven Kings Daughters you
have drown'd
But the Eight
shall not be me.

So she went on her Fathers Steed,
As swift as
she could flee;
And she came home to her Father's bower
Before it was
break of day.

Up then spoke
the pretty Parrot,
May Colven where
have you been,
What has become of
false Sir John,
That woo'd you
so late the streen.

He woo'd you butt,
he woo'd you ben,
He woo'd you in the Ha',
Until he got your own consent
For to mount and gang awa'.

O hold your tongue my pretty Parrot,
Lay not the blame upon me,
Your Cup shall be of the flowered Gold,
Your Cage of the Root of the Tree.

Up then spake
the King himself,
In the Bed Chamber
where he lay,
What ails the Pretty Parrot,
That prattles so long or day.

There came a Cat
to my Cage Door
It almost a worried me,
And I was calling
on May Colven,
To take the Cat from me.

(there are many versions of this, all anonymous)