What are religions if not tales of guidance and what are humans but stories made flesh? I’m sure you can draw the correspondence of where this topic is hearting because its akin to artists buying ink they then prepare to sling on their own canvas. There are a range of stores on the strip and each is filled with friends and countrymen who speak the tongue you know best and are familiar with the same things. These places of business can be frequented by all who wish but there is an obviously cliquish sentiment within as some old heads would sneer, under their breath, “Who is he to come into our realm?“. Some of those at the till couldn’t care less as long as they pay the bills but others are more reticent and would make it quite obvious they aren’t welcome. To the child who wants to finger paint all of this is irrelevant because they will frequent the store to which their forefathers went and as the child scribbles in the kitchen he’ll show his mother his rendition of the prophet at which point she’ll say something sacred, smile at her son and pin it to the fridge.
This, in a nutshell, is religion as a cultural operating system.
They say it takes a village to raise a boy and those who did birth one who shall become king. Why? Because he innerstands the people and their whims. Spinning it back from another lens lets pretend the stores we mentioned that sell art supplies see their neighbors kids wandering in with a friend. They will lavish both of them with the same affection because, regardless of faith, we all cherish the children and their resonance as its the living embodiment of all we hold sacred. In this situation if the boy were to ask why they wear those hats on their heads, don’t do this or other such things there is a high chance the man behind the till will take the time to educate him in the ways of the ancients. Lets say the child is quite gregarious and is raised in an enclave that is multiracial in the best sense and thus he spends his halcyon days being surrounded and nourished by these men of wisdom.
Will they see him as an infidel? An outsider who can’t be trusted or such things? Nay for it is highly likely they will take a shine to his desire for wisdom and never ending stream of questions that, quite often, leave them perplexed and with things for discussion as the childs innocence hits a nail on the head that they themselves would never have imagined.
The boy grows to be a man and sees, with ease, the common thread that links these streams as they obviously flow from the same ocean. “Why then” he says “Is the world such a mess when people believe pretty much the same thing? I think that each religion, if encapsulated in a nutshell would have said “Treat someone else as you would have them do to you” and the rest is mere sprinkles”. He then goes on to illustrate how each of their wives make, in turn, the best chicken and even those the base ingredients are the same its the herbs, presentation and methods of creation that make all the difference.
Not many people are raised like this. They will go to one place and buy the same inks they’ll paint on their canvas, exactly as instructed. Stranger still is how few truly comprehend the rites and rituals to the creed with which they’re linked as their knowledge is surface level at best as they place their passions elsewhen.
The boy in question was different as he wanted to know how this realm came to be the way it is. At first it started simple, when he was in kindergarten, as he turned to the new kid and started speaking to him in his own language. The boy responded with a shake of his head and a stream of words he didn’t comprehend. The child picked up a crayon and named it in English then his own tongue at which point the new kid did the same. He turned to the rest in the class, with their hues and tones variegated, and asked them to chip in which they did. Thus began a lifelong fascination with linguistics that lead to checking the religions and cultures that birthed them as well as examining the natures of these spiritual threads that were woven into a narrative.
Much like water is invisible to a fish religion as a cultural operating system is identical because most people cannot imagine another version of themselves without this underpinning. That goes for atheists and scientists as well because the underlying premise is identical as we use the tales and narratives that meet our minds when impressionable to fashion our internal operating system. Case in point the laws of the land that rule the Game are based upon the Bible and what it says thanks to the dominance of a certain race at a critical stage. Can you imagine the difference if, say, Buddhism was at the helm and shaped what would happen next? Just the certainty of reincarnation versus the “One strike then heaven or hell” mindset that forms the basis of so many playas would be something else. This is what I mean about religion as a cultural operating system because regardless of your passion or indifference its presence is felt in many things you’d never suspect from rites and rituals to customary celebrations and various aspects like the true origin of offering to bless someone else upon sneezing and how its linked to the Romans and started off as saluting. In the East many know well to pour oil in front of the entrance when ushering guests in for an auspicious visit but are entirely unaware from where this stems or the real meaning. Answers on a postcard, party people!
In ways blatant and subtle we all are in a state of hypnosis that you could think of like keys on a piano that each have their own tone and resonance. That, in a nutshell, is religion, my friend. The boy who’d grow to be king intuited this, back when, and wanted to know what would happen if one became adept at tinkling the ivories and ebonies without stress to see what could be created via the art of composition versus continually hitting the same note and expecting to hear a symphony. In that respect I agree with him because what if the secret point of conflict was to follow his example and find the common points of resonance use those to build a bridge instead of dropping depleted uranium shells on the heads of insurgents and infidels in a never ending belt of fighting that blights the lives of so many who step in.
Worse still everyone, in their head, is convinced they’re totally correct and the other side is the problem as the real, true divine aspect rides solely with them and not the rest. To add insult to injury even those on the same team secretly hate their own kin due to their own differences of opinion which highlights well how this war man will never win and whoever makes the attempt will find himself on the losing side in the end.
Till we meet again
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