I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not God. In fact, I don’t want the job. But, having had time to reflect on the way the world works, I’ve decided that should I ever be forced into the position of supreme deity, I’d do things differently.
Take people, for instance. I’d make us different. Not better, but different. You see, we’re flawed. People, healthy people anyway, want to be wanted by other people. Need to be needed or loved or accepted… come to think of it, we need all of those things. But that’s not the flaw. The flaw is that we throw up barriers to each other. We wall ourselves off in one of a hundred different ways because if we don’t, we’ll get hurt. Please note that I didn’t say that we might get hurt. I said we would get hurt. And, let’s be honest, we would.
Where does that leave us? It leaves us with the simple need for deep, meaningful relationships with other people. It’s a need that can only be fulfilled by great personal sacrifice and horrible amounts of pain. How’s that for a kick in the pants?
Like I said earlier, I’d do things differently. I wouldn’t fix the walls people put up, or take away people’s propensity to hurt each other. No, that’s simply curing the symptoms and leaving the real disease intact. If gardeners can be believed, the way to get rid of weeds is to get rid of the root. So, I’d cut the roots right out from under this problem.
I’d get rid of the need for other people.
That’s right. One person, whole and complete into and of himself (or herself). It’s the Marlboro Man, the Lone Ranger, and X-Men’s Wolverine all wrapped into one: in other words, the definition of cool. Imagine living every day of your life and never feeling lonely, never feeling sad that Suzan or Bob slighted you, or angry that your kids don’t talk to you. You simply wouldn’t care. And why? Because you wouldn’t need them, you wouldn’t need anyone.
Now, there are many people who might argue that my “fixed” people really wouldn’t be fixed at all. They’d be cold, uncaring, wholly self-absorbed jerks devoid of the simple joys in life. And I, for one, can’t argue with that. The simple joys in life, sadly, get tossed out with life’s many agonies.
These are the theories I come up with when I wake up and feel lonely. I think about how great it would be not to need anyone anymore. How wonderful life would be if I didn’t have this ache inside me telling me that no matter how much I try, I can’t be complete by myself. That gnawing reminding me that I need someone to make me whole. And by “someone” I’m not simply talking about a wife. That’s part of it, but I’m also talking about a community that I actually belong in, people to love and people to love me. And God too. He sits at the head of that dysfunctional family, happy with the holes He left in people because it draws them to each other and to Him. There are days when I’d let the whole lot of it go just to stop the pain.
Of course, then there are the days when it all clicks. The days when, for reasons known only to the Divine, everything feels whole: me, my friends, and my relationship with God. Those are the days that I wouldn’t give up for the world.
I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty glad I’m not God.
Take people, for instance. I’d make us different. Not better, but different. You see, we’re flawed. People, healthy people anyway, want to be wanted by other people. Need to be needed or loved or accepted… come to think of it, we need all of those things. But that’s not the flaw. The flaw is that we throw up barriers to each other. We wall ourselves off in one of a hundred different ways because if we don’t, we’ll get hurt. Please note that I didn’t say that we might get hurt. I said we would get hurt. And, let’s be honest, we would.
Where does that leave us? It leaves us with the simple need for deep, meaningful relationships with other people. It’s a need that can only be fulfilled by great personal sacrifice and horrible amounts of pain. How’s that for a kick in the pants?
Like I said earlier, I’d do things differently. I wouldn’t fix the walls people put up, or take away people’s propensity to hurt each other. No, that’s simply curing the symptoms and leaving the real disease intact. If gardeners can be believed, the way to get rid of weeds is to get rid of the root. So, I’d cut the roots right out from under this problem.
I’d get rid of the need for other people.
That’s right. One person, whole and complete into and of himself (or herself). It’s the Marlboro Man, the Lone Ranger, and X-Men’s Wolverine all wrapped into one: in other words, the definition of cool. Imagine living every day of your life and never feeling lonely, never feeling sad that Suzan or Bob slighted you, or angry that your kids don’t talk to you. You simply wouldn’t care. And why? Because you wouldn’t need them, you wouldn’t need anyone.
Now, there are many people who might argue that my “fixed” people really wouldn’t be fixed at all. They’d be cold, uncaring, wholly self-absorbed jerks devoid of the simple joys in life. And I, for one, can’t argue with that. The simple joys in life, sadly, get tossed out with life’s many agonies.
These are the theories I come up with when I wake up and feel lonely. I think about how great it would be not to need anyone anymore. How wonderful life would be if I didn’t have this ache inside me telling me that no matter how much I try, I can’t be complete by myself. That gnawing reminding me that I need someone to make me whole. And by “someone” I’m not simply talking about a wife. That’s part of it, but I’m also talking about a community that I actually belong in, people to love and people to love me. And God too. He sits at the head of that dysfunctional family, happy with the holes He left in people because it draws them to each other and to Him. There are days when I’d let the whole lot of it go just to stop the pain.
Of course, then there are the days when it all clicks. The days when, for reasons known only to the Divine, everything feels whole: me, my friends, and my relationship with God. Those are the days that I wouldn’t give up for the world.
I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty glad I’m not God.
Comments
Thanx for sharing :-)
Oh, and thanks for the compliment.