In the high 60s, blue skies, and work I can do outside. I love it. I would stay outside always but for rain and cold. I'm working away and a little single engine plane is flying over the lake - a little low and a little loud. I'm watching it, a bit disgruntled that the noise is interupting a conversation I was having with some ducks (quack!). The engine sputters. It stalls. Dead quiet. Dead quiet. Start, damnit. Dead quiet. Dead quiet. Start, start, start, start - whoosh - it starts! It quickly changed direction toward the nearest airport, stuttering away, but seems to have made it. Nothing on the news anyway.
I sometimes think I have certain faith healing powers when it comes to dead engines. Many times I've been at a convenience store while someone was trying to get the engine going. Start, start, start . . . then it starts. I know, it could very well not be me, but I do think every little bit helps. It's possible that a small positive boost from me to an engine might work.
Faith is like that to me. Against all evidence to the contrary, there it is. I can't define it. God. Buddha. Allah. Gaya. Who knows. I don't. I can't prove it is or that it isn't. I've known a number of atheist who were every bit as obnoxious as some evangelists I've known. I dislike being told what I must think or not think on any given topic.
Jesus came to me in a dream once to answer a quandry I had about that whole being 'covered in the blood of Jesus' thing. That sounded so disgusting. It was a great dream. I woke up in my dream, aware that I was being born, floating on my back through the birth canal. I came out into a totally white room, and was held by someone in a white robe who said he was Jesus and that he had to use language people understood to explain things they might not quite grasp. So, being born in his blood really analagized that I was now of his family, and my own earth family could no longer claim me. If you knew my family, you'd understand what a huge relief that was for me (certain particular members excepted - you know who you are).
Mohamed came to me in a dream, too. In fact, he's appeared on several occasions. The first, though was a humbling experience. It was back at the beginning of the first Iraq war when Saddam Hussein said he invaded Kuwait because Mohamed appeared in a dream and told him to do so. A friend explained to me that a person is holy if Mohamed appears in a dream and that holy person must then do as Mohamed commands or face big bad shit. I scoffed. Anybody can say Mohamed came to them in a dream, that's just stupid. Mohamed actually didn't come to me - he had me summoned to him, and made me wait in a waiting room for quite some time, too. He probably knew full well patience is not one of my virtues. When he did show himself, he told me flat out: "Do not make fun of my people. My people are good people. They are kind, and wise, and sometimes silly and foolish, but they want only what is good and best for everyone. They are the same as you. They are good people." Yikes. I was humbled. Rightly so.
There are a number of other life events that lead to me to think that this dog and pony show we call life isn't all there is. I won't bore my pretend audience with them now, but it's just enough evidence for me that I'm not convinced that this is it. I can't really jump on any dogmatic bandwagons, either. I wouldn't feel quite right encouraging someone to feel the power of Jesus or the righteousness of Judaism, especially since I totally deplore the way either are portrayed these days. On the other hand, I can't quite grasp the concept of eternal nothingness.