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God is an animal

Jesus was wrong. And not only he was wrong, he should’ve been a hippopotamus. If you want to see god, look not into the face of fellow human. Look into a face of a dog. A giraffe. A spider. It’s alien, impenetrable, mute.

If there is any spiritual motion in the universe, it appears blind and questionless to our brain. It happens. It is. It goes away.

Automatic. Almost mechanic. Full of drive. God is an animal. If it comes it’s where we don’t think. Where we can’t theorize. It’s a new born instinct. New spontaneity.

You will piss yourself out of joy. You will howl at the moon. You will pose your horny ass to lustily receive all that comes that way, like a cat bedazzled with the spring desire.

That’s why theology never worked. That’s why books on spiritual matters produce people who read them, not the thing that they’re trying to address.

All the debates, reflections, hard work of synapses concerning religion, faith, transcendence serve the same satisfaction as proving you were right that the soup was too salty in some family forum during Sunday lunch. That is god as human. Worthless, pitiful, misleading. A subject.

Even further, if there is any – god is an object. A thing. It hits. It doesn’t answer to our request, wishes, prayers. It reveals. Unexpectedly and contradictory. As a bull pit that kills its owner one day.

To be spiritual is to be insane. That’s were st. Paul got it right. If one is looking for a harmony, balance and peace with surroundings, inner and outer, one already found a substitute. A pacifier for the torn heart and mind, for the wound that one should’ve cherished as the only chance for the encounter.

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