Symbols of a Foregone Conclusion

It wouldn't be like me if a picture of a church didn't appear somewhere in these digital pages that I write. It's almost as predictable as the Irish or Faroese rain at this point.

I find myself at a crossroads today, looking out at the horizon, wondering what comes next. For everything that I feel I've done and accomplished within the last five years, there's a feeling that there's more that I could do, more that I could accomplish, just...more. It's unsettling, really, to someone who's pursuits have always been centered on the curiousity of humanity and, even in the denial of the same, have found themselves grounded in it.

The companies I've worked for have been, with very little exception, technology focused. This is in sharp contrast to the early stages of my career when being a social worker and counselor seemed more my destination but, when faced with the inevitability of sociotechnical collision...well, there but for the grace of God went I. It's been a whirlwind of learning and growth and not without setbacks. I've also discovered, through it all, that my ethos is centered on the ethical treatment of people via technology, not lining the pockets of some oligarchical menace who lacks the spine to stand up for the good of humanity.

In this day and age, what we have derided as being "woke" is truly awareness. It's awareness that within the hallowed walls of church and state, in the glass-lined offices and comfy chairs of startups and enterprises, and on the street corners of this rusting America we're violently intolerant of each other.

We orient ourselves towards a homogeneity of nativism and denominationalism, a cruelly drawn line which excludes those who cannot, by any natural means, be anything other than themselves and, we create laws of conformance based on nothing more than a selfish desire to create a Stepford society. If you dare deviate from what we believe to be a binary biological process, you are a devil-worshipper, a groomer, or, even worse, worthy of death. And this is all blessed from the sacred halls of obeisance to an ever-loving God.

I challenge you to point to a theocratic society which hasn't caved in on itself due to malignity and the toxic cancer that is a rigid orthodoxy. We've spent so much time wrapping the stories of our humanity in the trappings and irons of these rigid religions. The more telling point is where the faults exist: the "groomers" are almost predominantly white, heterosexual, and "Christian" when it comes to America...the irony is drenched with the blood of those who have been torn apart by the cruel villany of these so-called "righteous accusers."

Just like the awareness that has been building in my soul over the years, there's a point where a sundering has to occur. Where the whitewash of stucco and smug satisfaction has to be stripped away, laying bare the masonry walls and ragged aisles, the rich tapestries of leaders past and present shown for being threadbare representations of morally bankrupt and despicable humans. The hymns we sing, the songs of worship and praise adoring a God that only lives within the scant hours and boxes we put them in, will turn to the piercing sounds of vuvuzelas, grating on the ears of all who can still hear.

I'm acutely aware of my disdain for the orthodox, for the righteous, for the so-called purity of the believers. I'm acutely aware that my own filthy rags are as putrid to them as their white-washed tombs and fancy tithes are to me. I revel in the knowledge that the God of their creation is just a figment of their imagination, that for every polemic delivered from a gilded pulpit there are humanists, atheists, agnostics, and others doing the work of kindness, compassion, and love in ways the "believers" will never understand.

I find these churches, in the wilds of the Faroes, of Iceland, to be symbolic of our mean estate. They're written into the fabric of community but haven't consumed them. They're not ostentatious for their presentation: in fact, they're more hospitals and community halls than they are rigid adherents to a foregone conclusion. I know there are challenges between the church and state, between the morality of what is thought to be "good" and the expectations of conformity.

I long for a day where faith isn't a obstacle to be overcome and questioning and seeking are embraced with the same fervor as the "saved."

Dear souls, I agitate for the same clarity of purpose that I'm beginning to find in my own journey. I groan under the weight of ecumenical expectation, seeing how we've turned belief into an exclusive membership club, full of conformal ideologies that are toxic and broken. I seethe at the rationales being brought forward as to why we should "hate" and "loathe" those who are different than what we believe should be normal and those who have chosen to make decisions for themselves regarding their bodies. I will continue to be the gadfly, the burr in the saddle until we acknowledge and repair the rifts caused by our dogma.

Until such a time, I will take pictures, I will write the words that hopefully leech into your souls to stir something, anything to action. And may you, in the days ahead, find the hope that I have for a change.

May it ever be so.