“My deity has been spending much more time with me… He has given me food, water, shelter, things to chase and things to bite, a paradise to explore and be safe within… I sense my time is drawing near, and I am comforted by the presence of my deity. They sense my end is drawing near, and they show me how they, too, bite into their prey. Together, we share a holy meal of understanding, between my small self, and their colossal, incomprehensible, mostly unknowable existence.
"Perhaps we aren’t all that different from the gods…and as my life draws to a close, I find that thought comforting.
why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?