Godmama Says…
a buncha stuff.

armageddon , a love story

It’s been a while since there has been a large scale flare-up of crazy suicidal cult activity.   What is it, about once a decade?  So the big bunch of wackos saying the world is going to end at exactly 6pm tomorrow isn’t a huge surprise then.  It just seems so… specific.  But I seem to recall the Heaven’s Gate crew had that eerie specificity too:  the time and the date that the spaceship was going to collect them, the matching Nikes, and matching purple cloths placed just so over their dead faces.   I guess the creepy specifics are exactly what makes that shit seem real for them.  There’s an order to it.  Math is involved.  Clocks are set.   Pamphlets are printed.   There are rules that make everything neat and tidy, unlike the unpredictable mess that is reality.   And so why not believe the ugly, messy world will be wiped clean of sin at 6pm EST.   Sounds so certain and crisp that it must be true.

Actually it sounds just as batshit crazy as all the other cult madness that has come before this,  but internet info sharing and 24 hour news has made this one seem bigger.   People have been talking about it for longer,  and the more attention you give to a fantasy the more real it seems.  I’ve picked up on an occasional anxious energy to the way people are laughing at this one,  because the “what if” has had time to grow in the back of our minds.

Every generation has had it’s obsession with doomsday.    I think it’s simple to figure out why it happens.  At some point we all figure out that we are mortal and we will die one day.  As humans we have the gift/curse of understanding mortality.  We have the burden of living our lives while thinking about death; understanding it and knowing that it is coming for us.  We just don’t know when.  We have no control over that.   That’s a pretty fucked up trip,  man.   Every person ends.  Every era ends.  Every generation ends.  So again and again throughout history we have gotten together in big groups to figure out different ways to cope with it.   How about the idea that maybe everything will die when you die?  And what if you don’t really have to die at all because you are special?  You’re the one who gets to escape the death trap!  What if the whole world stops, and you get transported safely away to a shiny cushy place where there is no death at all?   Convenient way to pretend you can beat the clock.  Arrogant and childish, but convenient.   And it’s easy to see how weak souls might be led to drink that particular kool-aid.

Is it ridiculous?  Of course it is.   Will Jesus’ biggest fans be sucked up off the planet tomorrow at 6pm, leaving the rest of us to a crumbling hellscape?  Of course not.   So why is this crap in my head enough that I had a terrifyingly vivid nightmare about it last night?

Sort of.

I dreamed that I was in New York City,  and the world was in fact falling apart.  I think in my dream it was triggered by a UFO attack– which is a dream I have fairly often actually, but that’s another blog.  The world was burning up around me in a way reminiscent of 9/11, but on a larger scale.  The world was “ending”,  but that wasn’t the scary part of the dream.   The conflict that was making this a nightmare was that Adam wasn’t with me.  I was able to reach him on the phone and we were trying to figure out where to meet.  I wanted him to stay where he was so at least one of us would be in a definite place.  He wanted to come find me.   My cell phone was cutting out… and the world was on fire.   It was hell- not because of the fires and the impending doom and the vengeful UFOs,  it was hell because I was apart from him.   I woke up breathless and exhausted, with the roots of a headache that I still haven’t shaken.   Still, every time I thought about that dream throughout the day,   I smiled.    The residual memory from that dream wasn’t standard nightmare heebie-jeebies;  it was the relief I felt when I woke up and Adam was in fact right next to me.    It wasn’t a doomsday dream,  it was a love story.  It was a reminder that I’m living my happily ever after.  I’m in heaven.   I am truly a lucky and blessed woman.

That’s what I hope to learn from all this mortality crap.  At some point I am going to die, and so it is my responsibility not to predict the end for everyone… not to wish judgement and damnation on the evil world as a whole… not to spook and bully others into believing what i believe… but the opposite of all that.

I just looked up the word rapture and found this loveliness:  “The state of being transported by a lofty emotion; ecstasy.  An expression of ecstatic feeling.  The transporting of a person from one place to another, especially to heaven.”   Cool.    I hope the rapture does come tomorrow at 6.  And then again around 8.  And then again the next day.  And then again for whoever needs it  at least once a week for the rest of your happy rapturous lives.

*I love you, Adam.  To hell with everything else.*

That is all.

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4 Responses to “armageddon , a love story”

  1. I love you too, Maya!

  2. I agree with Mariah. And well expressed with Adam right by your side. What more could you ask for?

  3. Love this.


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