The Gospel According to Sheila

The Gospel According to Sheila Hey babe, whassup?It's my favorite time of day, except for late evening, sometimes up till midnight, but usually way too tired or I have to be somewhere in the morning, and that involves biking and catching buses. My bike is heavy for a name brand, but it is a combo trail/city bike. Messes with my back. I have to lift it a lot to get it into the racks for bikes on the front of the bus. I have to get it about chest-high. I need dual suspension and heavy tires and tubes. I've popped two rear tires already. Also need some quick-release features, a good high gear for speed downhill, low-gear uphill. I also want tires I can easily take on and off the rims to change flats as I have with the bike I have now. Hmm, I wonder if my bike could be inexpensively ($100 or less) modified into rear suspension or tinkered with to give me a softer ride in the rear? I know how to go up and down curbs, but it isn't fun, takes a little skill, but mostly slows me way down overall and is hard on my back. I HATE curbs!! At least the wind isn't a factor, as it was in flat-land Amarillo.I "recommended" a couple of blog posts to you on Google+ to see if you get them, and your comments are welcome. I try for funny entries if I can, or meaningful entries to make one think. Thinking, as we both know, is a GOOD thing. So few people really know how to do it, or they do it poorly. My thought at this moment is that I don't want to "flood" you with stuff, so please read, but take your time if you want to answer, and answering, of course, is totally optional. I tried to send you 2 posts from Frog in a Blender, my blog in Blogger.I have to write a letter to my mother, as she is getting old and starting to get frail and ailing on and off, and wants me to write to her so badly. She's going to figure into my blogs. She rejected being "somebody's wife and mother" (ouch) when I was only 8 and she divorced my father. She shrinks away from me any time I seek anything motherly from her. Well, THIS letter to her is going to be addressed, not "Dear Brenda," but "Dear Mom." SHE's the one who wants me to write, and said, "you are my daughter, after all..." Her guilt-trip attempt will be turned on its head. If she needs me now, where was she for me? If I have to go to Seattle and use all the unfamiliar and scary bus routes, exhausting, to help her, they by God, she can let me inside her heart or tolerate letting me call her "Mom." She doesn't deserve the title, but I need her to cowboy up and take it.I've never had a parent to call as a young and confused or conflicted young adult who was desperate for $50 on loan or most importantly, in need of soothing or experienced advice when I was conflicted or wasn't sure what to do, or just plain lonely. You can do this with me when you are out on your own, you know.I never stopped wanting to be your mother. I didn't quit the job, even when you were still gone and missing from my life. I'm glad I don't have to cry anymore. I am so proud of you, and I hope that sometimes I have helped you in some way.Since we were apart for SO long, most of your life and a quarter of mine, I hope to also be a friend to you. Not long after that pregnancy test came up positive, I realized I wanted you very much, even though I was also terrified. When you were born, I heard you cry and said, as I've probably related, "My God, I'm Somebody's Mother..." I was in total awe. From the first time I held you, I knew I had found my life's calling; to be a good mother where I had had none or worse. I experienced intense cruelty and terror and degradation in combination with indoctrination into a harsh religion that disagreed with itself and relied on a book, the words of god only knows who, which also disagreed with itself in its fundamental definitions of God and his characteristics, desires and plans. So it's an ancient text. BFD.At 19 I began to de-program myself, and it was terrifying, confusing, painful and ultimately angry. It took a few years to really be complete, and more years to me are more miles with all that crap behind me. They don't have a license to drive into young hearts or claim any "holy" status, nor do they have any idea who or what God is, whoever he is. I use the generic English "he" in my writing, I don't believe any real cosmic consciousness would be a he or a she. If we were created by some consciousness, it was probably exactly as modern science tells us, the incredibly long and complex journey from amino acids floating in a pool to hundreds of millions of years later for us to be here and be what we are.If some God made us, we are probably more like pets. Who knows, maybe there are hundreds of thousands of planets with complex, conscious intelligent life? I wonder if they think about any of the same things we do, the things we wonder about and make up stories about simply because we are programmed to need to KNOW things, always so curious. We can't know certain things, so we make mythology, legends, vision-quests, creation stories, and beliefs based on fertile imaginations. "Blessed are those who are the stupid, for they shall find comfort in fairy tales." Gospel of Sheila 1:10Don't think that I don't believe in some kind of cosmic-scale consciousness that out of convenience I call God, but I don't think [i]anybody [/i]has any (censored) clue as to what he is, but they tell themselves they do. I have prayed and what the Hell but freakish and improbable things came about after, including you. Even Einstein believed in God, I recently learned, and his "faith" was much like mine. Kind of sends shivers up my spine.Screw King James and 3000 year old parchments and the (censored) Red Sea. Screw all of the books similar. (Although certain "nuggets" of truth or beauty are indelibly lodged within the old books if one knows how to look for them). What is true is not necessarily beautiful, and anything lovely is not necessarily true. Gospel according to Sheila*, 1: 23 (There IS no Book of Sheila, lol!) I think The Gospel According to... might be a great title for an autobiography! LOL! XD XDI wanted another child when you were young, and I wanted Monty to be home enough to make us a real family and help keep me from being so depressed. My life's whole purpose revolved around this and being a good mother, or at least trying hard to be. I grieved for you and my rightful and needed place in the world [i]both[/i] ripped from my loving arms. I wasn't always perfect, and in some ways I was considerably lacking, but not from lack of effort or care. I love you, my child. I did not write the last line.
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