When Staff Seargeant Stewarts walked in
for his mid-shift coffee 20 minuted later, he found the group holding
their sides as Sarah recounted stories from her latest tour.
'...And then, wait wait wait, it gets
better,' she was saying as he picked up his coffee from Mary with a
nod. 'So after all of that, the flat tire and the broken timing belt
and the ticket and everything, we still had to get to the gig cos I
still had to get on stage and make people laugh and you know, get paid. So we limp into the
parking lot of the theatre and there's a team of security guards
around the place cos the show is sold-out, booked solid. And I'm
thinking, I cant find my I.D. badge.' Groans. '”They're not going to
let me in, I'm going to be shut out of my own show. This is the end”.
Come on in Mike, good to see you.'
'Good to see you too Sarah, please go
on,' Stewarts said, taking a seat at the table. 'I'm already hooked,
keep going.'
'So all of this is running through my
head and I'm starting to panic. But luckily, the head of security was
a big fan, he told me afterwards that he had pulled some serious
string to work my gig, so when I showed up at the stagedoor, he
recognised me straight away and whisked me inside. I was that
close, the audience was already
sitting down when I arrived at the door. The theatre head was having
kittens but they stuck a bottle of water in my hand and shoved me out
on stage just in time. And that's when I realised that my shirt was
torn, my clothes were covered in grease and mud and my hair was an
absolute mess. The audience was clapping their welcome and this was
it, fly or die.' She paused dramatically and the Seareant's
eyes darted around, noting the rapt attention of the little group.
'So I turned to the audience and I said, “Winnipeg, I heard your
mosquitoes were bad, boy was that an understatement. Just look at
what they did to me on the way here!” They laughed, and I flew!'
The group laughed heartily on cue and Sarah beamed. Mike
smiled to himself
and sat back with his coffee.
Mary did another tour with her coffee jug and smiled to hear the group head down yet another conversational road.
“No, I mean it's inherently doomed
to fail. The moral or edcational status of it's followers has little
to do with it over more than the immediate short term.”
“What?” Barkus was clearly baffled, but lifted his coffee mug for Mary to refill.
“Okay,” Sarah adjusted her seat,
flipped hair out of her eyes and spread her hands as Mary went around the table. “I propose that
the true underlying principle of organised religion is that of
elitism and superiority. You have a system of salvation that hinges
you belonging to a certain group ideology, right? The door is firmly
shut against everyone else.
Everyone who by reason of having the wrong language, educational
background, childhood indoctrination, even the wrong time and place
of birth. All of those billlions of people, the door is locked
solidly against them. Once you have a system so elitist and that
panders to the human ego so thoroughly and contains as part of its
framework the justification to act inhumanly towards other human
beings, because after all, they're sinners beyound redemption anyway,
well, any kind of atrocity becomes easy because they're not really
people. They dont really count. And this is for damn-near every organised religion going by the way, picking which one to concentrate on is just splitting hairs.”
“So what are you
saying?” Barkus asked, puzzled.
“Oh, just that
its not faith that's causing the pain. Faith is a beautiful part of
the human condition. Humans need faith to get up in the morning, if
only faith that today will be better than yesterday. Where people go
wrong is in thinking that faith and religion are comparable.”
“Okay, I didnt
know I held that asumption,” Barkus laughed, looking at the rest of
the around the table. In doing so, he caught sight of a man staring,
no glaring, over at them. He was eating breakfast in betwen snorting
like a bull. Gus, who was facing that way, winked and made a
conciliatory gesture. Sol was frowning at the ceiling, Lynn had stars
in her eyes and the law enforcement representatives were siting with
their mouths open, coffee forgotten.
Sarah smiled, “Most
people don't realise it,” she said. “Until it's
pointed out and that I fear, says several things all at once and none
of them good. But I digress.” In the breath she took to collect her
thoughts, Barkus shot a glance towards the angry man's table, now
wiping his mouth and musing over his coffee, apparently paying them
no attention at all.
“For
the sake of this conversation, let's say faith and belief are free
emotions, they arise in the human heart without any control from the
brain. They either happen or they don't.
Religion is a different thing. Religion happens when a group of
people sit down and decide on a set of behavioural norms and group
ideologies around an
item of faith. They then make it look like the same thing. If you
follow the rules you'll receive faith and if you have faith you must
obey the rules. It's a parlour trick, one that has worked for a very
long time, but still a parlour trick.”
“You're calling
the Church a parlour trick?”
“I'd
go so far as to say a con-job in fact,” Sarah
seemed unruffled by George's
incredulous expresion. “Especially for you and your heritage George, if you don't mind me saying. Groups of elites dictating from their ivory
towers how the masses should behave in every situation in thier lives
and they get paid for
it. It's a great gig if you can get it, you have to admit.”
Barkus's eyes darted back to the angry man's table, but he was
scribbling furiously in a notebook.
“But you hold
that faith is seperate,” Gus questionned.
“Completely,
absolutely seperate,” Sara nodded. “I would even go so far as to
say that faith may be our saving grace, if only we could get religion
the hell out of the way.”
“But how can
faith be our saving grace if you deny the role of religion to harness
it?” Sol asked. Sarah spread her hands.
'Why
does faith need to be harnessed? Why does it need to be a tool for
division? Or suppression? Instead of unity and the aknowledgement of
what makes us actually
unique in the Animal Kingdom?”
The angry man paused in his scribbling,
then shook his head and restarted at an even more furious pace. Now
Barkus had joined in the open mouth chorus, though he couldnt help
noticing a curiously elated expression on Gus's face and a darkly
amused one on Sol's. Lynn's smile was huge.
“I'm sorry, but huh?” Mike said.
“You're starting to sound vey hippy-ish to me now Sarah and I know
that's not you. So how about getting down to the nuts and bolts of it
and explain what you're actuallly trying to say in a way that this
poor ol' back-water police officer can understand.” Sara put down
her coffee and looked him with her head on one side for a moment.
“Allright then, but I'm going to
have to pick on you a little bit to do it first.” Mike shrugged and
had some coffee. “I guess we all, with the exception of Barkus,
know that you're a Church-going man Seargeant, is that correct?”
“That I am, or that you know I am?”
Chuckles. “Alright I'll play properly. Yes, I am a Church-going
man.”
“My question is, if you had to
describe the reason, the real
reason why you choose to attend Church as a fully autonomous adult
male, what would you describe?” To his credit, Barkus thought, the
Seargeant
sat back and thought about this properly, instead of going for the
flippant reply.
“Now, this
doesnt happen everytime,” he stated at last. “But sometimes, I
get this feeling of, connection I guess, of peace that made of
stillness, of a silence made of noise and it's like,” he paused
slightly embarresed but, emboldened by Sara's smiling nod, he tried
again. “Do you know when, you've spent every ounce of energy you
got running, or playing sports or.” He grinned. “Any other
physical activity that adults may care to name.” Laughter. “And
just after that, when you're getting your breath back, and your
muscles are screaming at you but you dont care because your mind is
completely clear and it feels like the edges of yourself go on
forever and you're filled with, the feeling of fantastic.” He
joined the laughter. “Pure fantastic-ness is filling every cell in
your body and your mind is clear and free.” He paused. “Make that
a PG image and that's the reason why I go to Church.”
“And that's
faith,” Sara said excitedly. “That feeling of connection and
benevolence and being re-charged from exhaustion, that's faith. All
of the constraints and rigidness surrounding that feeling, that's
religion. And the sad part is, religion started as a way of
protecting that feeling and giving the faithful a reliable place to
find that feeling and instead became the valve that choked it off by
supplanting the search for that true moment of bliss with the search
for sin i.e. breaking the rules.”
“You saying we
dont need rules missy?” George asked in mock-severity.
“I'm saying we
dont need the burden of sin, we dont need the fear-mongering and sure
as hell dont need the shame.”
“I'm gonna go
out on a limb here and say that you were raised Catholic,” Barkus
observed. Sarah nodded as she took a sip of coffee.
“I tell people
I'm RC, was Roman Catholic, now Recovering.” The men guffawed at
this while Lynn winked at Sarah and squeezed her hand.
“How's the
burden of shame doing?” Sarah looked sideways at Lynn
mischeivously.
“Getting lighter
every day.” Lynn punched her on the shoulder as the table burst
into laughter again.
“Alright then,” Barkus said
later. “What else would you describe under the heading of faith?”
Sarah looked at him quizzically. They were alone at the table, George
had checked the time and hurried off home, the Sherrif had begun his
rounds, and Sol and Gus had their own errands to run. Lynn had “gone
ahead home” and Barkus was on watch duty to “make sure she gives
me a half-hour headstart.” He hadn't asked, just agreed to do as he
was told in exchange for a future muffin. The Cafe had a few occupied
tables but it wasnt as busy. Angry man was still there, on the third
page of his notebook, still writing though at a much slower pace.
“You're gonna have to catch me up
there Barkus,” she replied as she got up to refill her mug from the
jug on the counter.
“You said, “for the purposes of
this conversation, lets say that faith and belief are emotions”. Oh
thank you,” he added and held out his coffee cup in answer to her
profferment. “What would you call them for the purposes of another
conversation?”
“Like this one for example?”
Barkus shrugged. She doctored her coffee and sat staring into space
for a moment. “Okay,” she said at last. “Since this is a
one-on-one, I'd like to try something if you dont mind.”
“Do I have to stand up?”
“Nope, stay right you are, exactly
as you are. There's an exercise called the 'Conscious Breath'.”
“Exercise? I thought I didnt have to
get up,” Barkus joked nervously, though he had no idea why. Sarah's
face held an amused expression.
“Don't worry,” she told him. “You
wont be doing anything embaressing, though you might find it easier
to close your eyes the frst few times.”
“Oh, okay.” Barkus scanned the
room, no-one was looking their way, though he got the feeling that the
angry man was trying to watch them out of the corner of his eye.
Annoyance flashed, what was that fat idiot doing?
“Never mind him,” Sara said in a
low voice and Barkus looked back at her. “Dude in the too-small
ballcap? You'll get angry people everywhere, you can't let them into
your head.” Barkus glanced towards the other table again and Sara
laughed. “Come on, I'll teach you something that's pretty damn
handy when dealing with those kinds of people.”
“Is funny music required?”
“Nope.” Barkus sighed and put down
his cup, straightened up in the chair and folded his hands in his
lap.
“Okay then, lead me through it.”
“So fatalistic!” Sarah laughed
again. “But okay. What I want to you to do is breath in through your nose, but when
you do, you must follow the path of the air as it goes into your
nostrils, down the back of your throat and into your lungs.” Barkus
opened an eye and looked at her quizzically. “I know what it sounds
like, just trust me. And when you exhale, follow the air back out
from your lungs, up your throat and out.”
“And what does this do?” Barkus
asked as he tried to follow the insructions without feeling like a
bit of a fool.
“It puts you solidly in the moment,
where no fears or worries can touch you.” Barkus looked at her
sternly. “No seriously! Think about it, all your stress and worries
and fears and doubts and regrets are in one of two places: the future
or the past, yes?”
“Okay.”
“So when you are able to concentrate
on the feeling of the breath you are taking right now, you are
placing yourself completely in the present and none of the other
stuff matters. It can't touch you.”
“Is that I'm trying to do?” Barkus
laughed and Sara grinned.
“Okay so I'm not the greatest
teacher. But that's the general idea, yes. When you concentrate
solely on how it feels when you breath, you calm your mind and allow
yourself time to think.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Actually no,” Sara deadpanned.
“The extra rush of oxygen increases the amount of oxygen in your
brain which allows you to make better decisions. The break from the
ego, the part of us that is the eternal shit-stirrer, lowers your
stress levels when practised on a regular basis and helps lower the
related doctor's bills. And,” she paused, looking at him with her
head on one side again.
“And?' Barkus prompted.
“It makes you realise certain things
about yourself,” she said slowly. “It makes you see things
clearly, forces you to re-visit assumptions and beliefs.” She
laughed suddenly. “It also helps you drop some baggage, some
big-time baggage. Baggage that you didnt even know you had.” Barkus
stared at her.
“Okay,” he said at last. “Lead
me through this again.”
Barkus jumped and his eyes snapped open
as a fist slammed onto the
table. The angry man was looming over them, lit with righteous
indignation and glowering fiercely at Sarah.
Who in return merely took a long, slow breath and sipped her coffee.
Barkus realised what she was doing as she gestured to an empty chair.
“Please sit,'
she invited. “Since you are so obviously eager to join the
conversation you might as well.”
“I'll not sit
with the likes of you,” the man growled. Barkus shifted in his
chair, watching the man's fists. He was dimly aware that while there
was still a buzz of conversation in the cafe, everyone was keeping an
eye on the goings-on. “You heretic! You witch! You burner of
souls!”
“Well
not today,” Sarah
admitted. “I left my matching kebab skewers in the last hotel
fireplace. They're the very devil to replace, you know.”
Barkus choked back the laughter, there was no telling what would happen. Though the fanatic didnt appear to notice as he drew himself up
with dark relish and pointed to his vacated table.
“I was sitting over there and I
heard what you said, you Satan's whore! How dare you attempt to turn
people from God!”
“Clearly you didn't actually,” Sara
replied calmly.
“Yes I did! I heard every filthy lie
you said!”
“I try not to lie, its
habit-forming.” There was, Barkus noticed, actually foam on the
mans lips.
“You said that the faithful are
fools and are being conned!”
“So your Church is your God?” came
the quiet but razer-sharp question.
“You have no understanding...” But
Sarah cut off the attempted recovery using a level tone that cut
through every voice in the place..
“No, you have none. You had neither
properly heard nor understood the conversation you so rudely and
blatantly eavsdropped. I would never try to take someone's faith from
them.”
“Liar! You said...”
“Religion and faith are not
the same thing.” The mugs rattled to Sarah's emphatic denial. The
stranger's brows climbed down his nose and her empty hands rose as if
cupping two spheres. “Look at the Sun and the Moon. One,” her
right hand rose. “Gives warmth and light and supports and
encourages life freely as part of its physical construct. The other,”
her left hand rose. “Is a pale reflection, serving a purpose, yes,
but in no way, shape or form capable of supplanting the first.”
Right hand rose. “The Sun is faith.” Left hand. “The Moon is
religion.” Right, left, right, left. “Not the same thing.” Her
hands dropped. “Which of course leaves you in quite a pickle,
doesnt it?” The stranger blinked at the apparent change in
direction.
“What do you
mean?” he demanded gruffly.
“Things should
be known by their true names, don't you agree?” she said suddenly.
“Huh?”
“To make sure
that things are kept straight, for a little less confusion about
important things that trip up a poor soul, don't you agree?”
“Agree with what?”
“That things should be known by
their true names. Don't you agree?”
“I, I guess.”
“Oh, good. Let me start then.” The
stranger goggled as Sarah rose unstoppably from her chair to her full height. 'Ye
shall be known to all by thy true name,' she boomed, fury in her
eyes. Her arm swung up to point directly at the man. 'I name thee,
Idolater'. The man's eyes went wide and he plunked down on a chair,
pale-faced. 'You see, I have no fear of the afterlife,' she growled,
looming over him. 'Either I'll have to apologize to God's face for
not believing in Him/Her, or I don't. It's not up to me either way,
so I just get on with it and do what I can to make life a little
easier to bear for other people. But you...' The fanatic cringed back
as she planted her knuckles on the table and leaned right in until
they were nose to nose. Barkus leaned back as the ferocity in Sara's glare threatened to set the air on fire. 'You will die and stand
before your God in all his awe-full glory and explain why each and
every day you shattered the 1st
Commandment. Yes, that is what you have been doing. You've turned
from the beauty and wonder of an incredible world that you profess to
believe was made by His Will and His Word, down to the very last
crumb and you've instead hidden your face in a book written by pens
held in fleshy hands. You sir, are an Idolater of the highest degree.
With every breath, with every beat of your poor, confused little
heart, you have placed a human book of words above your One True
God.' She stared into the sweating man's eyes, then said with relish.
'You, are going to burn.'
She drew herself back up
to her full height, pulled a note out of her pocket and laid it on
the table, nodded at Barkus and left without a single backward
glance. The religious fanatic goggled at her, then at Barkus, before
scuttling back to his own table, and then out the door, taking care
to go in the opposite direction of Sarah. Conversation started up
again but with shocked laughter riding through the undercurrent. Mary
walked over with the jug of coffee.
“I'm I glad I
didnt miss that,” she said in slightly awed tones. “I hope she
can take that on stage, that'd be a show to see.”
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