Join Your TownOpinions 
Within and Without
By Donna Sprague
Wed Mar 26, 2008, 10:58 AM EDT
Reading my email concerning religion and the hot exchange of theories and beliefs about various religions has become almost a full time job of late.
Answering all of the emails has become impossible, so I answer those which are coherent and sincere.
People are so passionate about what they believe, which is great. But what causes their extreme anger when someone else (I) do not believe as they do? Why must we all believe the same thing? This mind set spreads to other beliefs like politics it would seem. Many of my emailers tell me that they don't usually discuss religion or politics because people get so crazy.
Their honesty has given me lots of insights.
I think I have tracked down the reason that I'm not threatened by those with a viewpoint different than my own. At the age of four, I had surgery after which I had an awareness and a peace which I was too young to verbalize. After the surgery, there was a palpable change in my thinking about death.
We lived next door to a large chicken farm then, and for Easter, Mom got me a dozen chicks, only two of which turned out to be girls. The remaining eight young roosters, just as cute as the hens, were slaughtered by the chicken farmer, in my yard. I was horrified to say the least, and there, I'm sure, began my extreme resistance to eating animals which persists to this day.
This must have affected me more than my parents realized, because after the surgery, I would lie in my bed at night half asleep and think: “Some day I will get to die, and no matter how many people are around then, I will get to do it all by myself!” The feeling at that thought was extremely pleasant... much like how I felt knowing that the next night we would go to the carnival.
I remember looking at the things in my world from a different perspective, and would sit and stare at the big pine in the side yard and lament that I couldn't see it's true nature. Not in those words of course, but that was the feeling. I sensed that “green,” “bark,” “brown” and “pine pitch” the words to describe the tree, were a barrier to my true experiencing of the tree. I felt that about other things in my world too. Needless to say, I was an odd kid!
At thirteen, I began reading my Dad's books on religion and philosophy. I couldn't understand much of it, but it was as if it was a life line by which I would understand the feelings inside me which didn't seem to be within others. A map to a destination as it were. I'd listen to the adult discussions of my parents and their friends.
It seemed as if I had become so preoccupied with getting back to what ever I had experienced in the surgery, that I was totally consumed with the mystery of what had happened to me to make me so different. It was almost like I had died during the surgery, and somehow come back. The memory of that feeling of peace and unconditional love had persisted, and I wanted it back!
Later, of course, in many writings, I discovered that, to put it in a familiar phrase, “the kingdom of Heaven is within you” and that one should “Know thyself.”
What is inside a person shows glaringly on the outside for better or worse, so I began observing myself. I watched myself at school, at home, off with friends, shopping, visiting my grandmothers... I didn't like what I saw.
Resentment, impatience, anger and envy were strong in those early teen years. There were little spurts of niceness too, but all selfishly motivated, to do good to get positive strokes.
As my outward behavior showed no evidence of the peace and love I had felt at four, I began, as all of us do, to try and find that wonderful feeling in material objects. That worked... for a few days... and then I'd be off looking for a new object to “make me happy.” Just like my friends and parents.
Throughout this journey, however, the peace at the thought of death has stayed with me. Not that I want to go any time too soon, mind you. But the terror I see in others is just not there in me.
That's my story, and my experience. I know you have a story too, and for me to try to apply my story to you would be foolish.
And so it is with religions. One person has an experience and some other one writes it down, and then others try to apply that experience to themselves, and we have a religion.
Email Sprague at donna@povertyflats.com
