Each gate we pass through brings us one leg closer to our final destination, by Davin Michael Stedman

In times of crisis people are often driven towards the God as a concept and a belief.

Lennon once sang,

“God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain
I’ll say it again
God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain”

Part of why Americans have parted ways with organized religion in the second half of the 20th century is the the miracle of the vaccine. This isn’t a debate on the pros and cons of vaccines. But in 1952 the impact of the Polio vaccine was immediate. I met the last American who got polio as they introduced it, when he ambled into the Pot shop. He wasn’t even old enough to collect social security,

“I just missed it pal.”

We’ve been insulated from the fear and pain of infectious disease that would put Mothers through the anguish of having ten healthy kids and then lose seven. And if they lived to late boyhood here come a couple World Wars.

The closest thing to real pandemic we’ve felt is the Zombification of our friends and family in the TKO of Opioid addiction which spread like an infectious disease from doctor’s office, where Americans were insured.

But that was more of a successful business model and modern day privateering. An echo of the British Chinese Opium War.

There is pain. People just have more available and targeted chemical tools to face it. Americans used to reply more heavily on alcohol. Now we have a lifetime supply of potato chips and prescriptions, endless fields to plow of internet porn;

…to numb us from the painful risk of achievement, embarrassment, anxiety, authenticity, and defeat.

But old habits die hard. The Desert Religions have their applications and cheat codes. It was an early life hack. Meet a wife, make some business connections, feel connected. For those that truly believed, there was this promise of a Kingdom of Heaven beyond pain.

Now I sell off brand Icy Hot with THC, plus CBD, and this cozy cannabinoid compound called CBN. We are at war with Pain.

Some aim to feel normal. For some normal becomes feeling nothing. And the advice we are receiving from our government is the maybe the wormhole itself to the devolution of addiction. It’s isolation.

Isolation is a type of death. Like sleep it is necessary daily, but as pack animals so is the fellowship of Man. We used to watch sports in person, then together with our friends, now we don’t need them, because it’s all on our phone where we can fight with ones we haven’t seen in 20 years, earning empty and imaginary victories. So it goes.

My mother still goes to church. A lot of people I know gave it up for Football. But she goes. But not this Sunday or the next or the next.

She worries about whether the aging congregation will have to shake hands, and drink of the same cup at Communion. Whether they will accidentally kill each other.

Pretty dark sh☆t. I wonder what Church was like in the age of Cholera.

I wonder a lot of things. Some people find that strange. But I remember when a lack of wonder was a sign of stupid. But there are medications for signs of stupidity that prevent you from having to use more ancient remedies like library cards.

This to must pass. All things must. But each gate we pass through brings us one leg closer to our final destination.

I remember in New Orleans they told me during a Creole wedding that the priest would conduct the service with his back to the congregation as he led his flock through the spiritual maelstrom like a space captain warlock in a interstellar shoot out with the Devil and his hordes.

I remember when Jalon Fearon showed me through the invisible tubing of the interwebs that if you turned any decent cathedral sideways you have an impressive Imperial Destroyer.

It’s ok to wonder. Our ancestors once wandered through a darkness of uncertainty and pain. Around the fire we would listen to each other as stories drifted and changed.