A lot of great things happened this morning (woke up to Papa Bear cuddled up on the futon, it was a nice, chilly morning, a fat baby sat next to me on the train, the F train was cooperating), but this message from Amanda’s OKCupid mailbox has definitely made my day:
I wrote some silly jokes once, but my mood is quite sober now, which is good and not easy. The implication of goodness is good habits, although wicked habits and errors are essential to building one’s power and character. But that’s another question. My most important good habit is to be very, very careful with words. Not so careful with my thoughts and actions.
It’s easy to describe my spirituality: I’m a juygtnft. That is, I have been convinced from a very early age that there’s no God in the sense of an invisible male omnipotence. However, when I’m around religious people, especially when eating their food or spanking them, I talk of God the way they do, so that they will not be hurt. And there are moments here and there when I cry out to Mork, in weakness. The problem for me is the ancient, logical problem: if Bog or Universal Eye knows all, my life is predestined, but I know it isn’t, because it’s over.
I hate money but I enjoy the challenge of making a living. If I became wealthy—which I easily could have done by choosing a different life path, or body—there’s a serious chance that money would corrupt me like everyone else that’s into it. But should I conquer my bubbles and get rich somehow, I’ll give away what I don’t need, probably to you.
