6:50 p.m. - 07/08/02
entertaining elisabeth.
The Tunnel and The Light is trying to teach me how to die, but I'm not ready for that. Death and the understanding of it are both too much for me to grasp right now. This book is faith and scientific observation presented as fact, and despite how much a comfort it could be, I find myself skeptical. I want so badly to believe it (after all comfort feels GOOD) but I can't accept it yet. I'm shamed, I'm guilty, and I'm scared.
The Question of what happened to Tracy is all-consuming and I can't let myself bypass it with Christian happy thoughts. I think it would be different if I could sit down with Elisabeth and ask the questions that come up for me while reading it. The inability to do this doesn't keep me from having the questions, o I feel incapable of accepting what she has to say - as much as I'd like to. It doesn't help that as soon as I hear "tunnel, light, afterlife" my Christian bells go off and I run for the agnostic hills. I actually asked myself today what I would do if I (dunh dunh dunnh) became a Christian (gasp), realizing that I've felt immune to that danger for years. It helped quite a bit that Chas had called and Chas is quite possibly one of The Best Persons I Know, - and she is Christian. I don't think I could ever commit myself to acting on the teachings of the Bible (unless it was a theatrical farce), but at least I knwo if somehow in my death-questioning I am born again, i'll be in (some) good company.
I am currently feeling like shit regarding the fact that my room is not clean, the fact that my academic portfolio is generally putried, the fact that I haven't called Sara, the fact that I'm spiritual, the fact that I'm not religious, the possibility that I might be, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Basically this is just a more specific way of saying my guilt is off the Richter scale, and I'm too incapacitated to explore the REAL fears behind it.
I'm really scared that not being able to talk about this until Wednesday is going to result in my being to shut-down to talk when Wednesday comes. I hope the Superdoc can sneak his way inside my head long enough to dismantle the more lethal wiring.
I have a really strong urge to bitch about Harriet, who I haven't seen in months. Oh, this is grand.
oy,
chord
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