To be and not to be - that is the answer

"We are not born in to this world. We are born out from this world." Alan Watts

Everything is born out of this world. Look all around at the growing things, all springing up and growing out, reaching up and spreading. But only so far as the fruits and leaves die and new ones take their place each year. Each growing thing reaches its limit.

This spherical earth is a rolling, broiling, seething, mass. Each plate heaving and turning, rock and mass rising to the surface, moving, and being dug under - the earth turning itself inside-out, outside-in. Topsoil turned continuously by the worm. The agony and the ecstasy. Being fertilised and giving birth. Living things spring from this earth. Seed is planted and life shoots forth.

Some say there are galaxies in clusters like grapes on the vine. On the earth life burst forth, all various kinds of living things blooming like grapes on the vine.

And mankind born like a piece of fruit on the branch, grows and expands, mostly water. Some fruit falls early, some when they are old and bruised, and are mulched back in to the earth and regurgitated. Nothing is wasted.

Much Ado About Nothing
Who planted the seed for the birth of the universe? What was the soil in to which it was planted?

Being planted it. To be. Existence, vitality, energy. Love. Call it "God" if you want - it makes no difference. God is not God, anyway.

The soil in to which it was planted was the nothing. Thing and nothing. They are one.

And God went on to create the man in his image, in God’s image he created him; male and female he created them.

Which brings us round in a circle like a sublime "O".

And who planted the seed that led to the birth of God?

Indeed.

We don't even know where we are headed for. If humankind is not flailing around in its afterbirth, it is certainly no more than an infant first becoming aware of itself. Fearful, paralysed, rebellious, futilely grasping for independence. We have hardly made a mark on the process. We are at the very beginning of the road.

Surely what we are heading for is what birthed us. We are God. Of God. Just because we have not reached full maturity does not mean that we are not made of the same stuff as God.

If the human race does manage to destroy itself, it simply means we have dropped off the branch too early and another piece of fruit will have to grow. This is not a one-off deal.

What is the purpose of life?

Life has got itself in to a spot of bother. It has turned down a blind alley; got itself in to an endless loop; it is a stuck record, skipping on a scratch; it needs to sit itself down in a corner and give itself a damn good talking to.

The problem is, in taking a monumental step in to self-awareness, life has encountered a troublesome side effect - the bizarre need to justify its own existence; to explain itself; to ask, "Why am I here?" In the very act of accomplishing one of its most significant feats of progress, life has managed to forget what it is for. It is not man who asks, "What is the purpose of life?" it is life itself, for we each of us is life. I am life. You are life. He/She is life. ("It" is life, but it belongs to a previous incarnation. "It" belongs to a period of time before it could take offense at being referred to as "it.")

In making this great leap forward life had failed to look in the one serious place where the danger might lurk. It had neglected to take itself in to consideration. It is as if it has caught a glimpse of itself in a mirror and let out an involuntary shriek of fear. Further still, life has not yet experienced that welcome feeling of relief - "Oh, it's only me." Even worse, life hates what it sees. Like a crow seeing its own reflection in a house window, it has gone at its own image in a most alarming manner, all flailing wings, outstretched scratching claws, and viciously pecking beak.

The monstrous irony of life becoming aware of itself is that it could be its undoing. Life has hobbled itself. It has short-circuited its own progress. We are not coping well with our self-awareness. In trying to answer the question of the purpose of life's existence, life has driven itself to the brink of its own extinction - certainly the edge of the abyss for this human branch of evolutionary progress. While feeling the need to justify man's existence, man has treated each other in a most inhumane manner. He forces man to work hard, to live in humiliating poverty, tells him he has to earn a living, enslaves his fellow man, and is rapidly rendering his precious home uninhabitable.

As grim as this prognosis might be, we do not need to remain as helpless bystanders. On the contrary, it is imperative that we do all we can to help life learn the reason for its own existence: Life doesn't have a purpose - doesn't need a purpose. Life doesn't need to justify its own existence, or agonise over why it is here. Life just is.

If we want to weave God in to the equation, we can replace "life" with "God". God is life is God. This outlook enhances a relationship with God. It no longer renders man an impotent partner. We are helping God attain his goal of growth and unhindered self-awareness. He is in the throes of being, and we can play our part in that process. Our role is vital. God has proved to be somewhat forgetful. He told Moses, "I shall prove to be what I shall prove to be," but he consistently forgets that he is in the process of becoming. Reminding him of this, by reminding ourselves, is no trivial part to play.

What can you do to play an active part in life's evolutionary progress?

Sit Still. Call it prayer, or meditation, or "occupying a space" - call it what you will, it makes no difference. We need to spend more time doing nothing, and less time labouring for what does not exist. Taking every opportunity to remain still and quiet is a necessary and active pursuit replete with unimaginable promise.

Think. Don't Think. The great secret to thinking is not to think. Out of nothing explodes life. Stillness, calm - from these things bursts the "Aha!" moment. Don't force it - it'll happen. And when it does, let it.

Slow Down. Take the advice of Miranda Priestley and, "by all means move at a glacial pace." The evolutionary process is slow. There is no rush. Time is inconsequential.

Be. Life just is, and the same applies to you. You simply are. You don't need to justify life. You don't need to earn your keep, or fight to survive. The way of life is merely to exist. Revel in the belief that "ignorance is bliss." Don't name anything, refuse to define things. Just experience.

Be Healthy. Refuse to pollute your body with the crippling junk that man appears to be dead-set on endlessly producing to the detriment of his very existence. Eat well. Sleep well. All the while, ABC - Always Breathe Correctly

Imagine. Create. Life could be evolving towards a corporeal life-form that does not rot away and decompose. A life-form that is able to renew itself indefinitely. A sensing, feeling being that is able to experience life joyfully forever. A race of humans finally able to love openly and unconditionally.

Don't Be Afraid. Don't fear death. The mere fact that life has manifested itself through you once does not mean that it is a one-off deal. Why should it not mean that it could happen again? Just because it hasn't does not mean that it won't. Every indication is that we are in the very early moments of this extraordinary development. The human species is in its infancy. We have not yet learned to crawl, let alone walk. Certainly it is bad luck to be born during such an unforgiving time, but that need not write off experiencing life again during a more carefree period. Life simply may not have learned to remember - yet. After all, each new manifestation of life has to remind itself that it does not need a reason to be alive.

Love. Most importantly, love yourself. God and love and life are synonymous. Focus on loving yourself and your love for others (and for life) will grow exponentially. In order to love yourself you need to forgive yourself. If you don't think you need to forgive yourself then you haven't done it yet and you will continue to be stuck. Forgiveness is a happy by-product of understanding. So, get to know yourself. Don't think in generalities. Social science has a tendency to lump all the categories in to one: All men do such and such...all women do so and so...Ask yourself, "Why am I like this?" "Why do I do so-and-so?" Focus in on yourself. Teach life self-awareness. Look at yourself in the mirror without attacking yourself. See yourself as you really are and accept it without judgement.

Remain Positive. Life is not able to regress. Once it has learned how to handle its capacity for self-awareness without destroying itself, it will not be able to unlearn it. Life learns and grows and develops. From the moment of the big bang, when life exploded out of nothing, this universe is forever expanding outwards. Like a blossoming flower. Remaining positive does not necessarily mean being optimistic. By all means be pessimistic. Identify the many areas in life that man has managed to completely screw up. Negate everything, as Krishnamurti might say. You can do this and still cultivate a healthy faith.

Finally, in summation, we could say, the purpose of life is to remind life itself that it does not need a purpose. Every new manifestation of life has to tell itself this truth until the message is firmly imprinted. We might yet be able to save ourselves.

Philip the Evangelizer, O.B.E.: You already know the answers to all your questions

There is a legend told about Philip the Evangelizer (Acts 8:26-40). Apparently there was some government bigwig hailing from Ethiopia who had a mysterious life-changing experience while on a visit to Jerusalem. The power of this encounter - so it is said - led to a complete change in his life. It was in all the newspapers.

the story goes that this Ethiopian official found himself travelling by chariot on the road going from Jerusalem to Gaza. On the course of this journey he was reading aloud from the scroll of Isaiah when he became aware of a man running alongside his chariot.

"Do you actually know what you are reading?" This superman asked.

"How could I ever do so unless someone guided me?" Came the humble reply, and he invited the stranger to jump aboard, whereupon, starting from the verses he was reading, the man proceeded to explain to him "the good news about Jesus." As luck would have it, in the course of their discussion they passed a body of water. The Ethiopian took the opportunity to get baptised, after which the man bade his farewell and took off across the desert.

"What an extraordinary man," said the Ethiopian dignitary.

"What man?" Came his driver's guarded response, and indeed when the Ethiopian looked in the direction in which the man had set off, there was no sign of him.

To this day, Philip denies ever being there. Witnesses will concur that when the event was supposed to have taken place, Philip was found to be in Ashdod.

"It's a lovely story," said Philip, "but I was in Samaria, and I never got down as far as the road from Jerusalem to Gaza. It wasn't me...unless it was some sort of out of body experience."

And they all laughed uncertainly. You could never quite tell with Philip.

The truth will be even more astounding than the legend.

Let's say there was a man of some means travelling on the road from Jerusalem to Gaza - it's a visceral enough setting. It is a journey of some 100 kilometres (60 miles), which must have taken several hours to complete. Plenty of time to do nothing but sit and think. Perhaps he was pondering his own mortality. Maybe he did have the means and opportunity to be reading aloud from Isaiah.

"He was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before its shearer is silent, so he did not open his mouth. In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who can speak of his descendants? For his life was taken from the earth.”

There is enough here to get a man thinking about the inevitability of death. None of us are immune. "Here am I, in a horse-drawn carriage, a dignitary of sorts, but in the end even I will be gone and forgotten."

Invariably this leads to thinking about God, and the purpose of life. Perhaps he was thinking about God's name and what it means, and turning it over and over in his mind - Jehovah, Yahweh, I am that I am...

And, despite the noise of the horses' hooves, in mute stillness he drifts into a silent reverie in which he sees a man shimmering out of the heat like Omar Sharif and something, he doesn't remember what, reminds him of Joshua, whose name means "Jehovah is salvation." His mind shifts down into neutral, lulled there, trance-like, by the hypnotic beating of the hooves.

And out of nowhere it hits him like a bolt: I am! Isaiah is talking about himself, some other man, and every man. Suffering and the knowledge of death can be a doorway to understanding our own essential nothingness, our fragility.

In that instant he suddenly became aware of his own being - the I am that I am; his I am-ness, if you will - and it immediately meant his salvation. There was "the good news about Jesus." Like Joshua, that name means "Jehovah is salvation." It is the saving of us when we recognise that "I am."

The pounding of the hooves broke through as never before. He could hear the horses' grunts; he could see the sheen of sweat glistening on their muscular hind-quarters, their powerful legs. Their scent filled his nostrils, and there was nothing between him and the horses. This chariot, this forward motion, all were as one.

He felt the heat of the sun on his skin, the warmth of the breeze. Every hair on his arm, every pore, was tingling. He could feel the flap of his robe against his calf; the rattle of the chariot wheels on the road, the vibration through the floor of the chariot, into his feet and legs and up through his body. Every mote of dust became instantly visible, kicked up and chaotic, and all astonishingly separate. The trees, the clouds, the blinding blueness of the sky, all assaulted his senses. The sunlight danced off a body of water, and he saw himself washed clean. Clean, not in the sense of dirt, or sin, but just...different. Fresh, and new. He saw everything about himself, and with that his ego melted away, and a rolling ball of emotion swelled up from his belly, exploded in his chest cavity, came up through his throat, and suddenly burst out in an ecstatic primeval cry.

"How could I ever do so unless someone guided me," was the humble realisation needed to unlock within himself the answer to all his questions. "I know nothing, and there is nothing I need to know." And, in that moment of letting go enlightenment was thrust upon him.

The answer to all your questions lies buried beneath a mountain of seemingly unrelated subsidiary questions. Why is that question of interest? Why is knowing the answer to that particular question important to me? "Well, because." Why, because? And what is important to you about that answer - and so on. One question may uncover another as if we are traversing a mountain range in order to reach a destination. What we hope is the last peak only gives way to another one beyond.

Every question takes us a step closer to understanding. We begin to feel a light-headed relief as we catch a glimpse of the answers underneath. The ego will call it avoiding the issue, and that is because the ego fears its own annihilation. Questions about ourselves indicate an emerging self-awareness. We observe our own I am-ness - the I am that I am. The ego fears the freedom, the salvation, that this precedes, and so it tries to impede progress. However, it is essential that we address these preliminary questions because in this way our ego will begin to melt away and the answers will speak for themselves with astounding clarity.

By doing this we gradually become aware of the curious paradox that it is the ego that asks these questions in the first place, and it is the ego that impedes us from answering.

What is truth? What is the purpose of life? What is God? What happens when we die? The answers are already there within you. Some of these answers you may not be able to articulate in a cohesive way, but this does not matter. Words are unimportant. Dig through the questions and the answers will reveal themselves. They might not reveal themselves immediately, but in a moment of mute stillness and silent reverie enlightenment will be thrust upon you, and like the Ethiopian dignitary you will go your way rejoicing.

The solution to all the world's problems: Abolish money

Certain questions (or statements) have now become so offensive to people's sensibilities that the mind instinctively rejects them. For example, anything John Holt suggests in Escape From Childhood, or Is anyone really "born this way", or would a different upbringing have produced a different result? Anyway, here's another one: Why does anything even cost money any more?

The world would be a far better place if money was eradicated. That does not mean a return to the barter system, which was simply a precursor to money anyway. No, abolishing money would mean doing away with buying anything. Everything is free of charge.

Money eradicates the need for love.

The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.
(1 Timothy 6:10)

This verse of scripture is often misquoted as, "Money is the root of all evil." There are those who take delight in reminding them that, actually, it is not money but the love of money, that is the root of all sorts of evil. They both mean the same thing. Anybody who jumps to point out what the verse actually says is only proving how much they love money by jumping to its defence. That's how insidious money is.

Capitalism is a conspiracy by the wealthy to keep the lower classes fighting among themselves. They dangle the possibility of changing social status by means of industriousness. Everyone has an equal opportunity to climb the social ladder - you just have to wrestle for it, in a battle to the death. So jobs must be competed for, and complete reliance is laid on money as a means of security. A better world would be one in which there is no need for any different classes. As it is, a system of slavery is perpetuated by the need to go out and earn a living.

"Everyone has a right to earn a living." What this really means is, no one should get a free ride. However, no one should have to earn a living. Living should be something we just do without having to earn it. Money is just an excuse not to have to love anyone. The same goes for the statement, "I worked hard for this..." It is a wonderful irony that a world hell-bent on adopting an atheistic outlook should be so determined to stick resolutely to a Judeo-Christian work ethic. It has leached into the whole of society. We are all religious.

If you seek to live outside of the bounds imposed by society you will soon find yourself forced to earn a living through incarceration. Meals and lodging will be provided, but you will pay the price through solitude, forced labour, and abuse at the hands of fellow prisoners and staff.

Natural disasters always cost something: 45 billion to clean up the mess from hurricane Sandy. Natural disasters shouldn't cost anything. The price is what it costs to restore the infrastructure, to put things back the way they were so that life can carry on as if nothing happened. We should be able to enjoy disasters without the stress.

You can't do anything for anyone for free because people are afraid you have one over them. Money restores balance. People feel like they have paid off a debt and can now relax. But debt is to do with the ego - "I did something for you, you owe me..." It is about rights, justice, laws, legality - all these are constructions to satisfy the ego. Love means there is no debt. Nobody owes anyone anything.

As soon as spiritual leaders, gurus, self-help experts, start charging for their advice they have simply become members of the medical profession. They lose credibility and become snake-oil salesmen. In the words of George Bernard Shaw, "Every profession is a conspiracy against the laity."

Doing good deeds has a category all of its own: Charity. This used to be how the word agape was translated. Doing something and expecting nothing in return. Now love is a business enterprise. Charity costs money.

Love eradicates the need for money.
There is the fear that people would be greedy. People would not be greedy because there would be no need for it. People would take what they need for the day, the week, or the month. The shelves would not be stripped because that only happens in times of crisis, and crises only happen as a result of this unstable society we have created.

Sure, there might be a silly season for a moment after money has been abolished, but this is only to be expected. Society has been imprisoned, suppressed, and subjugated. When they get set free they are going to go wild for an instant, but we can trust that love will lead us to an equilibrium.

"Nobody would do any work," is another ridiculous claim. At last people would work because they want to, not because they have to. People want to provide a service, or they like the social interaction. Work meets basic human physical and spiritual needs as opposed to unrealistic false financial needs, where a wage becomes compensation for mind-numbing tedium. Great hubs could be set up where people could go and see what needs to be done, and where, and they could go along and contribute to the work-load out of sheer enjoyment.

There might be a fear that people would want to have an aeroplane, or an ocean liner. (Or just a big boat would do.) This would not happen. Love is not being afraid of our own limitations. These things are a measure of success, they are a sign of social status. They indicate one person's riches over another's poverty. Abolishing money would eradicate this practice. Love does not need to brag. It is the ego that needs to publicly demonstrate its greatness.

Riches and wealth are a way for the rich to avoid associating with the poor. The rich don't handle money - they get other people to buy things for them. All transactions are carried out electronically. They don't want to touch the vulgar bank-note. They have become rich by means of every perverse treachery and trick. It is impossible to become rich without exploitation. You choose love, or you choose wealth.

There are countless benefits to abolishing money. Here are just a few more:

• The industrial age would become a hideous memory - a time when society churned out product and spewed filth into the water sources and the atmosphere. Stuff could be built to last, without any planned obsolescence.
• Light pollution would end. There would be no need for half the lighting in the big cities.
• We could finally see a reduction in the amount of traffic on the roads and the growing stress that results from that. Most traffic on the road consists of people going to and from jobs.
• No need for the huge gulf between rich and poor. Ludicrous overindulgence of some parts of the earth against the abject poverty of others. Adverts pressing for water in Africa. All of that would go away if it was all provided because of love. Nobody along the way needs to ask for payment because all our needs are provided for anyway.
• Everyone could be housed.
• Crime would be eradicated. Prisons would be emptied. Most crimes are committed because people need money to buy things. With this need eliminated, crime would all but vanish.
• Petty law-suits would be a thing of the past. Most law-suits exist because people want compensation for lost earnings.
• Substance abuse would be a thing of the past. Drug abuse, alcohol abuse, gambling, smoking - all these things would fade away. They are all problems created by the anxiety of having to make ends meet.
• Call off the war against disease. The infrastructure must be preserved at all costs. The endless quest to discover a cure for cancer is for the preservation of the infrastructure because heaven forbid that it should have anything to do with the stress and anxiety of this competitive system, and its terrible diet. We have created this disease-ridden society. Abolish money and the fallacy of "earning a living," and we would see an end to cancer, heart disease, stroke, M.E., and all the associated ailments.

We do not implement this idea to abolish money because we are scared. Fear is at the root of ego, and that is what got us into this mess in the first place. But, fear of what, exactly?

No matter how hard you want to argue the point that capitalism has improved living conditions in many parts of the world, the tragedy is that we fell into that heartless abyss at all. It's high time we jacked it all in and did it all out of love instead.

God is not God is not God...

Throughout the articles written here the term "God" is used. It needs to be made quite plain that "God" is not God. "God" is a perfectly inadequate word that is used to describe the indescribable. God is Love, Truth, Eternal, God is none of these things. God can not be defined with words. God is not something you believe in. It would be more accurate to say, "I believe in nothing."

God is what you get when you strip away everything else. God is what you get when you peel away every layer, every multiverse, every universe before this universe. God is not all that is left - there is nothing left. God is that nothing. Not the scientific nothing. Science does not believe in "nothing" - "There is no such thing as 'nothing'," - just as they say there is no such thing as God. Not the nothing that you get when you suck all the air out of a heavy metal container. Not the nothing that still contains energy - energy that can be measured. God can not be measured. It is the immeasurable. God is nothing. God is no thing. It is the void, the abyss, the bottomless emptiness. God is unfathomable.

Synonymous with "God" are "Love" and "Truth." God does not make itself love - it is love. Love is. It is the natural state of things. We know it instinctively, and we wither and die in its absence. The sound of nothing is the perfect chord, all waves moving in harmony. We are out of tune, discordant, and we must get ourselves in tune. The big bang was chaotic. It is a discordant cacophony. Gradually harmony is being achieved. Eventually everything will come into tune with the nothingness, but we don't have to wait for that to happen. We can start now. There is not much we can do about the tunelessness of this world, but we can recognise the lack of harmony within ourselves, and that we can do something about.

What is the opposite of "ego"?
Eons ago, when man crossed some threshold of self-awareness, already present self-defence mechanisms were thrown into a tailspin. We are a mutation, unable to satisfactorily handle this greater level of self-awareness. We haven't yet learned to cope with it. Matters of the mind remain a mystery to man. The dance of the honey-bee, mass migration, murmuration, instinct and intuition, we know nothing about. We can explain what happens, but can say nothing about the why or how.

A quick search for "What is the opposite of ego?" brings up such expressions as "sacred self", "the real you," or, "the authentic self." None of these adequately convey what is the opposite of ego.

Ego = self. Ego is selfish. The opposite of selfish is unselfish. In order to find the opposite of ego, we need to "unself" ourselves. We need to decouple from the self - throw off the self. All things associated with the self, everything we identify with the self, must be stripped off. We must become "not self", or "nothing." However, we can not just say, "I am nothing," we need to become nothing. We do this by peeling off everything that is something. We become aware of the beliefs and ideologies that make up me, and we strip them off, we get rid of them, layer by layer, peeling off the layers until there is nothing left. Like an onion. And, yes, like peeling an onion, we do it through the tears. When a child passes a certain threshold of self-awareness, the ego will kick in, a self-preservation mechanism based on a fear of dying. What danger has there been in the child's life to arouse the fear of death and insignificance? What guilt and shame?

God as nothing makes sense of the statement, "The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom." (Psalm 111:10) You might think, "I am not scared of nothing." But being a double negative, it would really mean, "I am scared of everything." This is probably a very accurate assessment of our state of mind. When we can say, "I am not scared of anything," we are really saying, "I fear nothing," and that is the beginning of wisdom.

(Except, of course, that the person who says, "I'm not scared of anything," is usually lying, and needs to go back to square one.)

The nothing is the first cause, the "How" in, "How Did We Get Here?" Out from this nothing came everything. What happens when you die? Nothing. And nothing holds the potential for anything.

Why is the truth hidden in the Bible?

In his essay, "Why I Write," George Orwell put this reason first on the list: Sheer egoism. He explains it this way:

(i) Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on the grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc., etc. It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful businessmen — in short, with the whole top crust of humanity.

The Bible - the written word - is a product of man surrendering to the ego. It is man trying to explain man's predicament of being held captive to the ego, while himself being held captive to the ego. In other words, it wants to extol the virtues of freedom while choosing to remain confined to prison. Even if we agree that some Bible writers recognised the truth of man's condition, the fact remains that they recognised it while surrendering to their own egos. Because of this, it lacks credibility.

Man lives in constant surrender to his ego. His real self remains concealed from him. This dual condition must be unearthed from the Bible. It does not sit obviously on the surface. It must be read into the subtext. It can be found in the creation mythology and the stories of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Israel and Egypt, and in the countless lesser stories that make up the larger one. It can be found in the two ideologies held by the Jewish people - the Law covenant (ego/self) versus the Messianic hope (authentic self/not-self).

It is always the few who find the narrow path, and this is seen in ever decreasing circles throughout the narrative. Mankind starts out as the authentic self, made in the image of God. Then it is the nation of Israel, then the tribe of Judah, then the sect of Christianity, then the antichrist. Ultimately, no one in the scriptures embodies the true self in reality, as all those that picture it eventually succumb to the ego. Any who conquer it manage to escape.

Why were they hiding man's condition in history, myths, and legends? Because that is all they had to work with. The writers were embroiled in a system of worship which itself was a result of man surrendering to his ego. Even if he believed it the writer of Genesis chapter 2 could not write, "God is really you...you are separated from yourself..." because it would not have been accepted or believed, and would not have gained any traction.

The details of how man originally surrendered to the ego are lost in the past. They can not be retrieved. Legends about God, and the creation of man are only a result of that surrender. The ego is the result of fear. Man writes because he is scared of being insignificant.

On top of all this is the fact that it is impossible to use words to explain man's predicament. Words, language - these things define, and with definition comes confinement. You can not define or confine what is infinite. Writing locks belief down. Language binds and shackles.

Certain Bible writers knew of this contradiction. Genesis 11:1-9 outlines the confusion that arises over multiple languages. Proverbs 10:19 states, "In the abundance of words there does not fail to be transgression, but the one keeping his lips in check is acting discreetly."

Writing is to surrender to the ego. Wanting to lead is to surrender to the ego; wanting to teach is to surrender to the ego. "Do not call anyone on earth...'Leader' for you have one Leader, the Christ," might well have meant, "Be your own leader," but the weight of the message is crippled by a language that can so easily be misconstrued. It does not stand on its own but demands an interpreter, and the one who puts himself forward as an interpreter has surrendered to the ego, for why does he want to act as interpreter?

The beautiful irony, however, is that in the Bible we are left with a strange and mysterious work of art. It attempts to explain man's struggle by presenting the drama of life itself. The Bible is life - man's predicament played out against the backdrop of man's eternal captivity to the ego.

God, love, truth, whatever we want to call it, can not be taught or explained, it can only be experienced, and the only way it will ever be experienced is by throwing off the fear, and completely letting go of everything we believe in and hold dear. The very act of using language to describe the problem hides the problem. The attempt to reveal, conceals. Writing, by its very nature, shrouds the truth in mystery.

Snatching Christianity from the jaws of St Paul

By the sixth decade of the first century the Apostle Paul was breaking into a cold sweat. It wasn't enough that he had been shipped off to Rome and met with a complete anti-climax, but he really sensed that he was beginning to go off the boil. He was being abandoned, confronted, and challenged. To make matters worse, the original Messiah was being quoted, and word was now out that someone had been following Jesus around with a moleskin, and had been taking notes, and now - would you Adam-and-Eve it - these notes had fallen into the hands of none other than John Mark.

Including, "Get Mark and bring him with you, because he is helpful to me in my ministry," in his second letter to Timothy, felt like too little too late. It was unlikely Mark had ever got over the quarter-of-a-century cold shoulder he had received from Paul, and being unceremoniously replaced by Timothy in short order after Paul's bust-up with Barnabas over whether or not to take Mark on the second missionary journey. "That deserter?" was Paul's response. "Not bloody likely."

No doubt there were several reasons why Christianity needed a boost in the second half of the first century, but I'm sure that Paul's methodology had not been helping matters one bit. The rift needed to be healed, and the gospels presented a simple message: The Christ came in the flesh, and his ministry was first to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Nothing there to misconstrue.

Mark's gospel was a short sharp shock. It was a quick and thrilling read, and Jesus was immediately presented as a warm and compassionate protagonist. Not only did it make sure to highlight the Lord's choosing of the twelve apostles before the end of the third chapter, but there was even time to include a crafty hint that, contrary to being a deserter, when all others had abandoned Jesus, Mark had hung on 'til the last. How d'you like them apples?

This dagger-thrust of a gospel was a necessary blow. Things had rapidly been going south since Paul had been in the driving seat of the new religion. Apparently the Lord's memo re. the lost sheep had not reached Paul, and in no short time he had managed to force a wedge between the Jews and the Gentiles - and he just kept on hammering it home.

In every town he went to he had made enemies of the very people this good news was meant to appeal to. He had squandered an opportunity to win converts, coming as he did from a similar religious background, and instead he had used it as a means of turning people against him. To begin with he had been open-minded - when once he had suggested that if you want to get circumcised, get circumcised, he eventually reached a point where he remonstrated against those who promoted circumcision, and likened the act to emasculation.

Paul gleaned from this rejection by the Jewish contingent that he must instead be sent as an apostle to the nations. To the Ephesians he wrote that the wall separating Jew from Gentile had been torn down, but in a bizarre fulfilment of the prophecy, "Tear down this temple and in three days it shall be rebuilt," he had succeeded in re-erecting the wall and this time the Jews were on the outside.

Furthermore, Paul had complicated matter with his elaborate theories about Melchizedek, and high priests, and nailing the Law to the cross. He had managed to denigrate the Jew's most holy customs. Paul's pitiful attempt suggesting that fleshly Israelites were like branches of a spiritual olive tree that could be grafted back on if they were faithful was just rubbing salt on the wound.

The truth is that Paul might have been on to something with his idea of a spiritual Israel, and that parts of the nations history were allegorical. It all points to a deeper understanding of man's psyche. But he was beginning to take things too far, and people were being driven away.

Sadly, Paul was still a man struggling with his ego. He gave in to his anger. He did not want to be challenged, and when he was he resorted to sarcasm and name-calling. Not only that, but he had bitten off more than he could chew with his Messianic parallels. He was well aware of this inner turmoil, lamenting as he did in his letter to the Romans, "For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing."

It had got so far out of hand that something needed to be done to redress the balance.

The gospel attributed to Matthew was even more devastating than Mark's. Not only was it addressed exclusively to the Hebrew people - twice he has Jesus declaring "I was not sent forth to any but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" - but it also promoted Peter as the original troubled and struggling apostle-with-a-heart.

Luke, ever the healer, seeks to unite the two camps, and he does so by publishing two volumes of early Christian history. In volume one he tells the story of the Messiah, and in volume two he continues the saga by starting with the sterling work initiated by the early apostles, but half way through he turns the work over to Paul and demonstrates the extent of Paul's missionary accomplishments. Yes, Peter and co. started it, but Paul took it further than it had ever been taken before.

Peter, as ever, vacillates - faith/doubt, all or nothing. Though not a gospel writer per se, there is some suggestion that he was something of a contributing editor. He does mention Paul, though. His second letter is a study in vacillation. If it wasn't written by him, he had passed on a spirit of vacillation to his disciples. 2 Peter wants to chastise false prophets while still preserving the scripture's prophetic leanings. In this way he mildly disciplines the prophecy-prone Paul. At the same time, despite being publicly humiliated by Paul on one unforgettable occasion, he offers his support at the close of the letter, calling Paul, "Our dear brother." Of his writings he adds, "His letters contain some things that are hard to understand, which ignorant and unstable people distort." Some might call this "damning with faint praise."

In the end, whether it was because of Paul or not, none of this commotion would matter. The bloody carcass of first century Christianity would eventually be cast out into the wilderness for the scavengers to do with as they wished. They wouldn't even pick it clean, and the rest would just be left to go dry.

Hymenaeus, Philetus, Alexander et al: "They were not of our sort..."

"They went out from us, but they were not of our sort; for if they had been of our sort, they would have remained with us."
(1 John 2:19)

Hymenaeus, Philetus, Alexander - these names may not be immediately familiar to us, but I like to imagine that the truth resides with these rejected fellows, these waifs and strays of the New Testament who are spoken of in rather abusive terms by the likes of Paul and John.

We have no real idea of the full extent of the wrongs perpetrated by these men, yet somehow we are quick to judge them negatively because we instinctively come down on the side of the Bible writer. However, in reaching a conclusion based on accusations made in several letters, we are only really hearing one side of the argument.

What seems to be undisputed is that towards the latter half of the first century there were those who were departing from the Church. Paul himself alludes to this exodus when he writes to Timothy:

"You know that everyone in the province of Asia has deserted me, including Phygelus and Hermogenes."
2 Timothy 1:15

No doubt there are various theories as to why members were deserting the Church, but I like to think that by the mid-60s, thirty-odd years after the supposed event, rumours of what Jesus really said were beginning to filter through, and subsequently men were coming to their own conclusions rather than be taught a message by the hand of someone who had never actually witnessed Jesus, ie. Paul.

By the end of his third missionary tour even Paul was quoting "the Lord Jesus himself", saying to the older men of Miletus and Ephesus, "In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'" (Acts 20:35) As it turns out, Paul is left with egg on his face on account of this particular quote ended up on the cutting room floor when the official versions of the biography of Jesus surfaced. Luke manages to slot it into The Acts of Apostles a little bit like a movie out-take saved for a DVD extra.

It is highly dubious to roll out, "It is more blessed to give than to receive," even when talking about helping the poor - more so when you are talking about yourself helping the poor - as it calls in to question the motives of the giver. One wonders whether Paul ever used this quote when attempting to rustle up financial aid.

When word about the mysterious man behind the proclamations of Messiahship began to surface, it was rather alarming to find that this Jesus was probably more of a you-received-free-give-free* kinda guy than a worker-deserves-his-wages** advocate.

Financial remuneration wasn't the only thing Paul promoted. Paul was all about suffering now and being rewarded later. He closes his first letter to Timothy with the exhortation to, "Fight the fine fight of the faith," in order to safely treasure up a "fine foundation for the future," which God would bring "in his own due time." The holy spirit was a "token" of what was to come - a down-payment, a guarantee. Paul turned everything in to persecution and suffering.

In contrast, word was coming through that this Jesus was all about living a stress-free life right now. Throwing off the dead weight of life's burdens; casting off - letting go. Becoming dead to what was and rising to life right now. "Your sins are forgiven," was doing the rounds. Not a future forgiveness, or a forgiveness that had to be earned, but a forgiveness that existed in perpetuity. Take it, it's yours.

Advance word was also hinting at this Jesus living a "leave them be" life. "He that is not against us is for us," was his philosophy. Paul on the other hand had already demonstrated himself to be an old sulk when Mark had abandoned him at Perga on his first missionary journey, even displaying a sharp outburst of anger when Barnabas later suggests taking Mark along for his second missionary tour. Paul was having none of it, and they went their separate ways. Singling out individuals for upbraiding was not alien to Paul.

John complained about Diotrephes wanting the first place among men and not receiving the disciples with respect, but Paul had demonstrated a similar propensity for this sort of behaviour. On the one hand he had declared, "To the Jew I became as a Jew", and yet he tore Peter off a strip when Peter attempted to follow this same idea. How respectful was Paul being when he publicly chastised Peter? He boldly relates this tale in his letter to the Galatians, a letter in which he had already referred to the apostles and older men in Jerusalem somewhat archly as ones who "seemed to be pillars."

Among those mentioned by Paul in his letters addressed to Timothy are Hymenaeus and Philetus. The need to become dead and be reborn might be what these ones had attached significance to, much to Paul's chagrin:

"Avoid godless chatter, because those who indulge in it will become more and more ungodly. Their teaching will spread like gangrene. Among them are Hymenaeus and Philetus, who have wandered away from the truth. They say that the resurrection has already taken place, and they destroy the faith of some."
(2 Timothy 2:16-18)

It could be that they were talking to others about a spiritual resurrection, and that you didn't need to wait for this to take place, that it could happen right now. They didn't think they had wandered away from the truth. Only a marked conviction could induce them to persevere with a course of action which would merit them being censured by Paul.

Another one singled out by Paul was Demas.

"Demas has forsaken me because he loved the present system of things..."
(2 Timothy 4:10)

Perhaps it could be that Demas had caught wind of the saying, "Never be anxious about the next day, for the next day will have its own anxieties," and had come to the conclusion that we don't rightly know what the future holds, that we are better off being fully aware of our life right now. Demas could well have been an early adopter of Eckhart Tolle's The Power Of Now.

Hymenaeus had already been targeted by Paul, along with a certain Alexander. They stood accused as men who have "thrust aside faith and a good conscience," and have experienced "shipwreck concerning their faith." Paul had handed them over to Satan, "that they may be taught by discipline not to blaspheme. (1 Timothy 1:18-20) It is very likely that these men did not consider themselves as having thrust aside their faith at all. That rather than having experienced ship-wreck concerning their faith, they had never felt more sure of themselves.

Alexander is mentioned again later:

"Alexander the coppersmith did me many injuries - the Lord will repay him according to his deeds - and you too be on guard against him, for he resisted our words to an excessive degree."
(2 Timothy 4:14)

Is this what Paul considered to be injuries, "resisting his word to an excessive degree"? Perhaps Alexander had stood up to Paul, or had vehemently disagreed with him on certain points.

It seems disingenuous for Paul to accuse others of experiencing ship-wreck concerning their faith when it was Paul who seemed to be the one whose faith was all at sea. For a while it appears that he was convinced that something more was due to happen as regards the Messiah. His letters to the congregation in Corinth indicate quite clearly that he expected an end of sorts to be near. However, the passing of time proved this to be a fallacy. In his early insistence, though, Paul was skirting very close to being a false prophet, and by the sixth decade he had already fallen foul of the fruits of a false prophet by reverting to the methods employed by the Pharisees: warning against sects; forbidding the questioning of things; shunning. (Titus 3:9, 10)

There is still disagreement as to whether or not Paul was the author of the letters to Timothy - but even if they are an amalgam of later Christian teachings and excerpts from Paul's own hand, they seem to reveal a disconcerting level of narcissistic thinking. He claims to be entrusted with the glorious good news by God; the Lord assigned him a ministry; he was appointed a preacher and apostle, by none other than the Lord himself. Much of what Paul had been teaching had come from his own interpretations. He talks to Timothy about "the pattern of healthful words that you heard from me." In 2 Timothy 3:10 and 11 he talks about "my teaching, my way of life, my purpose, faith, patience, love, endurance, persecutions, sufferings - what kind of things happened to me in Antioch, Iconium, Lystra, the persecutions I endured." Yet here he is doling out a form of persecution to others, with his name-calling and labeling.

However, there is something slightly more disturbing even than these already concerning traits. It is possible that the expression used to describe Alexander's actions - that he did Paul "many injuries" - was the same word used for an informant. It suggests that Alexander sold Paul out to the authorities. This is convenient as it puts Alexander in the position of a betrayer, much like Judas. By claiming that "all those in Asia have deserted me" Paul subtly hints at a "strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter" fulfilment which suspiciously cloaks Paul in the guise of a Messiah figure himself. The trouble with this is that it makes Paul stand out as part of the sign: "False Christs and false prophets will appear and perform signs and miracles to deceive the elect," wrote Mark in chapter 13, verse 22. Perhaps this is what men were beginning to turn away from.

It could be that by the mid-60s some men were simply fed up with Paul's inconsistency, his insistence on doing things exclusively his way, and his discomfiting Messianic aspirations. Rather than being used as examples of a dismal lack of faith, perhaps it's about time that these men were celebrated for their courage. Perhaps they felt that this Christianity business was a lost cause, and they were becoming more drawn to the interesting notion that "the kingdom of God is within you." As a result, 'they went out from among them, for they were not of their sort,' and for this they ought not to be sneered at.


* Matthew 10:8
** 1 Timothy 5:18

Even if you don't believe in God, you'd better create one

The question of whether or not God exists is of no consequence. What is vital is that even if we don't believe in God, we make darn sure we create one, and the sooner the better.

Even if we do believe in God, or belong to some religion, we need to set our God aside and create another one. We are each of us in a box, with all our beliefs, assumptions, prejudices - all the things that make up "me" - and God is right there in the box with us. The God we believe in is part of the problem, and the God we don't believe in is part of the problem.

So, we need to imagine a new being. A being that stands outside of the box. Someone that can see who we are, and have been. Someone that has observed every moment of our lives. Our newly imagine being is completely free. He/She/It is not bound by time or the physics of this world. He is free to roam through our thoughts and feelings. He can move back through time, and where we might remember certain events, our God remembers everything and lives it as if it were happening right now.

This God is compassionate, free from judgement, prejudice, or disgust.

Having a piece of the Exodus pie
As much as we might hate to admit it, the Israelites were on to something when they named their God "Yahweh". It could be that this name had quite a homely origin, that it was a tribal family God. Whoever it was that came up with such a name was a very insightful fellow. It has been commented that the description of the name given at Exodus 3:14 - "I am that I am" - suggests that He will become whatever is necessary in order for his will to be done. It doesn't matter what the Israelites went on to do with this God of theirs, what they made him say, or purport to do. Your Yahweh is not their Yahweh, is not my Yahweh. My God is not your God, because I have not been present for your life. Your God fits your mold. He becomes whatever he needs to be, for you.

This God is a jealous God. He is jealous for you. This God does not want to see you going after other Gods with their petty conflicts, hatreds etc. Your God is protective of you and your interests.

It is fitting that such a description be found in the book of Exodus. We are talking about a journey - leaving slavery behind and becoming free. It means "going out", and we are trying to get out of our box. Of course, we don't go into it with the intention of moving. It is not about self-improvement because self-improvement implies judgement...however, moving is what will irresistibly happen.

Leaving a land of slavery
You must be able to stand outside yourself, observe yourself and say, "This is what I am - violent, competitive, lustful, whatever we might be. This is why. This is how I became what I am. This is when it first manifested itself." Instead of running from what you are, hiding from it and trying to hide it from others, you accept it and embrace it unequivocally. We identify what we are, what we feel, what we do, without any prejudice or judgement

We need to be able to listen in on all of our thoughts, and ask, why do I think that? Why do I speak to myself negatively? Why do I think so highly of myself? Again, we do this without any partiality. We assume knowledge of good and bad must inevitably lead to judgement of good and bad, but our God does not judge, for there is nothing to judge - it merely accepts the way things were and the way things are. Acceptance and acknowledgement mean that we are able to let things go.

Eventually, of course, we will find that we have climbed out of our box - the watcher and the watched have become the same person...or, as Jesus put it, "I and the Father are one."

When this happens everything you are becomes unimportant, and with unimportance comes freedom.

It is not a case of believing in God - God simply is. And if it isn't, it ought to be.

Ghostworld of the excommunicated

I died on Wednesday, April 4th, 2012.

Time was called at a little after 8 o'clock in the evening.

"Rory Sullivan is no longer one of Jehovah's Witnesses."

I had been sick for at least a decade prior to my passing, but it had not always been that way. For many years I was fit, healthy, and strong. I had grown to be a man qualified to teach and lead. Ten years ago, however, I was infected with a debilitating illness. It was diagnosed as a sympathy toward worldly psychology, but in reality it was a gradually dawning realisation that any lasting spiritual healing could only come from the inside out. Such thinking began to bleed in to my congregation ministry enough that eventually the local body of elders took issue and decided to let me go as an appointed man.

I worked hard to self-manage my condition. At one point I showed all the signs of a remarkable recovery, right up to the point that I was asked to serve again as an elder, but it was all a wicked deception. The disease had taken root at too deep a level. After eighteen months the sickness resurfaced, and I went in to rapid decline.

I had lost all confidence in the body of men self-appointed to oversee the organisation. It seemed contradictory to me that an organisation could lay claim to a monopoly on the truth while at the same time being less than honest themselves. I was only just learning that the Watchtower Society has not always presented its history accurately. Anything questionable written in earlier literature is carelessly brushed aside with a gesture, "The light is getting brighter." Past "mistakes" become those that the Lord has permitted. I couldn't understand why he would do that. Why would he condone years of his spokesman declaring something as truth which could potentially endanger the lives of his flock, or damage their faith, only to have it later revoked? When is it the operation of God's holy spirit, and when is it merely the whims of men? How can you claim not to be infallible and yet insist on calling your teachings "the truth"?

There was no point in going to the spiritual doctors about matters like these. There was no cure. There would just be encouragement to keep taking the medication - Bible-reading, preaching, meetings, prayer - anything to push those pernicious doubts back in to the darkness. By then I knew that it was too late. The walls were crumbling. Nothing was standing up under close scrutiny. It was all superficial nonsense anyway. The fact is, I was finally waking up. I was beginning to see myself clearly for the first time, and these men who had insinuated themselves into my life were just getting in the way. They were not a help, they were a hindrance, and I wanted nothing more to do with them.

***

Eventually Kate steeled herself for the inevitable question. The moment came. It was night, and the children had been put to bed. I heard her footfall on the bedroom floor. She creaked down the stairs and I braced myself for what I knew was coming. She entered the room, dark save only for the chilly blue glow of the computer screen. I felt her beside me.

"Are you going to die?"

"I think so."

She broke down in tears and I offered empty words of reassurance. Shortly after that I stopped all congregation activities. I was already refusing to report my field ministry, but now I ceased to go out preaching altogether. I stopped attending the meetings at the Kingdom Hall.

The qualified men sought advice and were told that even though I would not accept orthodox treatment I was imposing a sort of self-quarantine, and so they could leave me be and allow the sickness to follow its own course. Time would tell if it was benign or malignant.

In this inactive state all things become unsettled. Associating with others becomes stilted and unnatural. There is a phone-call or two. Promises of visits that never materialise. The community is kept very busy, and quite frankly, if you're not well enough to pitch in and help out, you have only yourself to blame.

Social gatherings are particularly awkward. There is a distinct atmosphere: They wonder why you are there. If you haven't done the work, why should you be entitled to the rewards? The well don't quite know how to handle the sick. The expectation of death hangs in the air. They are preparing themselves for the inevitable. They make comments like, "What are we to do with you?" and "It breaks my heart." There are furtive glances, a curled lip of displeasure, voices dropped to a whisper, enforced cheeriness when accosted, all the time the concern that what the sick one has might be catching.

Some are optimistic, but conversation is pregnant, all a prelude to the expected question, "When are you going to be back with us?" I can't tell them I don't think I ever will be. I don't need the final curtain to come down before its time. So I lie, and say, "I don't know," or "Never say 'never'..." or some other specially prepared phrase - sometimes it's just a shrug and a half smile - and they are a little deflated and touch me on the back or arm and shrink away and the conversation is over. One thing is a given: At all costs, don't talk about the illness. Only those who have the required qualifications are best placed to talk about such things. For anyone else, leave well alone.

Kate begins to go through a sort of grieving process. It starts when the disease is diagnosed as being terminal. Now she is angry, feeling guilty, blaming herself - perhaps there was something more she could have done, things she should not have done; now she is bargaining with God, pleading for him to show her a sign; now she is blaming me: "You knew what you were getting in to, why have you changed your mind now?" It is impossible to reason with her and be heard. Newcomers are only ever made familiar with a sanitised version of the Society's history. Furthermore, the set of beliefs you joined up with may not be the same a few years later. The organisation is allowed to change around you, and you are expected to change with it, but one is not permitted to change independent of the Society - not without serious repercussions. It is likened to Eve's rebellious eating of the fruit, the frightening punishment for which is expulsion from the "spiritual paradise".

She blames me for not doing more to keep healthy, for not declaring my illness earlier. Perhaps they could have done something before it was too late. But what was the point of arguing with the elders over things like failed prophecies and changing doctrines? I knew what the answer would be: "They are imperfect men...mistakes were made in their eagerness for the end to come...the light is getting brighter..." How could I explain that a dam had burst deep inside of me, and the rushing waters had washed away all the sand upon which my house of faith was built, and that this was a good thing? It was futile. I was a lost cause, a dead man walking. It was only a matter of time.

***

The sudden discovery of an alarming new symptom sent the qualified men into a flurry of activity. Some of them had found out I had a website and had been writing about my spiritual views and publishing them for all the world to see. To begin with they had tried to ignore it, but for some unexplained reason it eventually came to the attention of the other elders. Now that it had become impossible to ignore the qualified men met to discuss my condition. It didn't matter that nobody had read or been affected by my writings, it was all about the "what-if".

We talked briefly about my misgivings, but they were only really concerned with knowing if I was willing to accept their particular course of treatment. I wasn't, and after consulting with head office they agreed that there was nothing more they could do for me. The final diagnosis was "apostasy" - in other words, I had become mentally diseased. Because they feared the disease was contagious, and lethal, they saw no option but to exterminate the carrier. 2 Timothy 2:16-18 was used to prove that the spread of gangrene must be stopped:

But shun empty speeches that violate what is holy; for they will advance to more and more ungodliness, and their word will spread like gangrene. Hymenaeus and Philetus are of that number. These very [men] have deviated from the truth, saying that the resurrection has already occurred; and they are subverting the faith of some.

The rich irony of this scriptural judgement was completely lost on them. The Watchtower Society have been declaring that the resurrection has been occurring since 1918. "On this one basic point," declares The Watchtower of April 1, 1986, "What [Hymenaeus and Philetus] were teaching as to the time of the resurrection, Paul rightly branded them as apostates, with whom faithful Christians would not fellowship."

They tell me I only have a week to live.

At the end of seven days, they pull the switch.

***

I choose not to be present for the announcement - not everyone appreciates an open casket. There is an audible gasp. At the end of the meeting members of the congregation descend upon Kate and offer their condolences and words of consolation. One or two even weep. Afterwards she goes with some of them for a meal, like a sort of wake. She gets sympathy cards. She is a Watchtower widow.

Even though my death is expected, the announcement of my passing still hits Kate hard. However, she will pass through it, it will hurry her through to the last stage of grief - acceptance - and she can then settle back in to some sort of normalcy. There will always be a hole, but she will manage. I try to embrace her, but it is as if we are not in the same room. We do not occupy the same space. For now I am an apparition, barely visible.

Life is punctuated by other-worldly experiences as I drift by people that I know from the congregation. I drive by someone's house as she is loading her car. Everything slips in to silent slow motion as she looks up as if brushed by something uncanny. I pass someone I know sitting on a public bench and she looks at where I would have been, a small sad smile playing about her lips.

I don't see many in town. It could be that I am seen first and avoided. When I do happen upon someone, the reaction is all too common: Embarrassment, not knowing where to look, a hesitant step betraying an overwhelming desire to walk in the opposite direction. If I am somehow spotted, a spectre taken shape, I must be avoided at all costs, head down, or turned. If there is enough time, a road can be crossed. I know that if I was to try to make contact there would be a look of terror, or great pity. One or two forget - a big smile and vigorous wave from a car, or headlights flashed as I drive by - and I know that these will go on to reassure themselves that their merciful and loving God will overlook their momentary forgetfulness.

Would you believe it but the first people we bump in to after my expulsion is the family of my friend who was my best man at our wedding. We are shopping in a neighbouring town, and suddenly there they are. In these situations there is an unspoken protocol to be observed: Before approaching a Watchtower widow one must assess the situation from a safe distance. Is the widow carrying the burden of her dead husband? When it is determined that a reasonable moment has arisen, approach with caution. The conversation is low, the group huddled. The concern will be that reserved for the lost and lonely, the bereaved. "So sorry for your loss, we were shocked to hear...How are you coping? Is everything all right?" I drift around just beyond the periphery. No looks are needed. They know where I am and will sense whether I am straying too close. I turn my back for an instant, and they are gone. A little later we surprise the wife. My presence gives her a cold chill down her back. She grimaces at Kate and hurries off. They will have to leave the shop. They might even abandon the town.

Soon after my demise I bid a heartfelt farewell to my close working companion of twelve years. Even though he has no real qualms about continuing to work with me he cannot risk the disapproval of his fellow elders, and the possibility of upsetting members of his congregation. Now that I am a corpse, I must not be touched. If any of the living lay their hands on me too often they run the risk of losing their own lives. Although the organisation teaches that Israelite Law was nailed to the cross along with the Christ, in reality it is still very much alive and kicking. Apostasy is the worst sort of disease, most contagious. Even the qualified men are warned against any close contact. Each year the elders are encouraged to visit disfellowshipped people in the territory, and apostates are not included on this list.

Lapsed Witnesses are also considered to be at risk from contamination. Elders feel duty bound to act as inter-congregational informants, and local bodies of elders have been known to be particularly (un)scrupulous in dealing with deliberate absentees. On one occasion I return to the Kingdom Hall to attend a funeral. A companion of mine is there. He has not been active in the religion for a while, but still we must avoid acknowledging one another.

That funeral is a strange and sad affair. Right there on their home territory, passing among these people - men, women, and children I have known for twenty years - who must now act as if I do not exist. Eye contact is conspicuously avoided. Eye contact could betray true feelings - compassion, friendship, a yearning to smile, greet, or embrace. I can't even get the attention of the one sitting behind me in order to borrow a songbook, so I just remove it like a poltergeist.

I sing like an angel. They might not be able to see me, or talk to me, but they will be able to hear me - a voice from the afterlife. For one or two, it is simply too much. They can not bear to ignore me. A light touch on the arm, a whispered, "Lovely to see you..." Perhaps there is hope for some.

What is very sad is knowing that natural affection is being suppressed. Occasionally around town I catch a member of the congregation suddenly seeing me. At first there is an instinctive look of recognition and a smile, but almost immediately this is followed by a set expression and a bowed, defiant head, as they remember the way I should be treated now that I have entered a disfellowshipped state.

Even sadder is the subtle instructing of children in the ways of hatred. To see young boys and girls casting shy glances, but knowing that they have been primed - "We don't talk to so-and-so any more" - and they meekly go along with it. This despite the fact that children are not strictly bound by congregation law and are free to interact with the expelled should they choose to. But the grown-ups aren't so keen on them exercising this freedom. They get uneasy and hurry them along. Being so young, children can't really understand why someone should be ignored and avoided, but this is simply one of those facts of life they will have to come to terms with, until the spirit fades from their vision too.

Sometimes I happen upon Kate quietly weeping, the bathroom door locked, stifled sobs coming from within. Her grief is understandable. By default, the widowed wife is subjected to the same isolation as the deceased husband. Her house has become a mausoleum. It is too risky to visit. The path leading to our house rounds a blind corner, the front door part of a glass conservatory, and there is every possibility I might be sitting right there. Visitors could easily be caught off guard - a faltering step, a self-conscious laugh, stiff formalism, a visit cut short. Few enter beyond the thresh-hold. Most conversations are made hurriedly at the door accompanied by cautious glances over shoulders. Telephone conversations are quickly reduced to formal passing on of information. All social niceties are dispensed with.

The decision to expel me has stripped our marriage of a potentially valuable avenue of conversation. The extensive Talmudic notes on the subject of excommunication - those oral laws pencilled in to the margin that are not specifically stated in the scriptures, but become just as binding - state that no spiritual matters may be discussed with a disfellowshipped partner. By extension this would include philosophy, psychology, politics, and any other subject which might have a tendency to slip in to the spiritual. The laws of the Society hang like a shadow over our relationship rendering it monochromatic. Of course the marriage suffers as a result. It can no longer be a full and healthy relationship. We now move in two completely separate circles.

Once Kate said, "Talk to me about it. Maybe we'll come with you..." But we both know these are just words of desperation. Conversations like this are rarely successful. Ultimately, an overwhelming realisation must well up irresistibly from within, and it would take nothing short of a miracle for this to happen to Kate. Born and raised as one of Jehovah's Witnesses, an extravert who needs the love and approval of others, the only people she knows are Jehovah's Witnesses. As well as the huge embarrassment it would be to admit the religion could be wrong, there is too big a risk of losing ones friends and family. These can appear to be insurmountable barriers to overcome in one's own strength alone. It can only be accomplished with a complete over-turning of one's self-image, and that is not a road that many are prepared to go down.

For those who are ready to venture down that road, it is true that there are sacrifices to be made, and wandering this ghostworld of the excommunicated can certainly be a sad and surreal experience at times. However, if one is to live with any sort of love, integrity, and freedom from contradiction, it is a sacrifice well worth making.

Predestination, or is life just a bunch of stuff that happened?

Is there a bullet with your name on it? Does everything happen "for a reason"? Perhaps, like Jung and Oogway, you say, "I don't believe in coincidence," and, "There are no accidents." Are you a "Que, sera, sera," kind of person? All of these have one thing in common - they are all attempts to make some kind of sense out of life. And there's no harm in trying to make some kind of sense out of life.

All of these statements could be included under the definition of "Predestination". Alternatively, we might call it fate, or synchronicity. Often it is assessed from one point in time, looking back - so we could also describe it as history written in hindsight.

The further back we go, the trickier it becomes. The Israelites, for example, were obsessed with predestination. They were experts in looking back from certain vantage points and plotting the events where God had intervened, even if these events were imaginary. The problem with this activity is that it runs the risk of crossing over into fabrication and falsehood.

Calling it "faith" does not justify the case that very few of their interpretations could be proved, so if in reality those events had not taken place, to say that they had was...well...a lie. And when one develops a religious ideology based on mythology passed off as incontrovertible "truth", firm measures will not be far behind. The lie must be protected at all costs, hence the need for the death penalty, or at least expulsion from the synagogue. The Pharisees practised shunning because they were hypocrites, hiding who they were. They had not learned the meaning of the expression, "I want mercy and not sacrifice."

Christianity developed from Judaism and naturally they carried the torch for synchronicity and predestination. Several times the gospels refer to Jesus avoiding the heavy hand of the mob because, "His hour had not yet come." (John 8:20) Paul was not shy in using the word "foreordained" and he even saw his own life-course as somehow being planned from his conception onwards. He had to make sense of living life for three decades as a Pharisee before his sudden conversion to Christianity, which was supposed to be the very antithesis of a pharisaical life. To the Galatians, he wrote, "God...set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace."

As far as my own life is concerned, I couldn't comment on whether there is anything which could be considered predestined, or synchronous. You be the judge...

Ours was a predominantly Catholic family. My mother had abandoned her Church of Scotland upbringing - much to her own father's dismay - in order to marry my father. I am the third of three boys. My father was a diplomat and his line of work meant being overseas for several years at a stretch. Consequently, there could be no better education for us than to be sent to Catholic boarding school. Age-wise, I am far enough behind the others so that when it was my turn to be sent to school I spent most of my years there alone. I have a distinct memory of being taken to Carlekemp by my parents, and watching as the car disappeared down the drive, leaving me on my own for the first time...

Actually, I was not entirely alone. That initial year was spent with my middle brother - me in first form, he in fifth - but anyone who has ever been to boarding school - probably any school - knows that this is a world apart.

Carlekemp closed down a year before I would be moved in to fifth form, and instead we headed up to Fort Augustus Abbey School a year early. Middle brother chose to leave Fort Augustus from fifth form at the same time my oldest brother left the sixth. Both Carlekemp - a primary school, of sorts - and Fort Augustus Abbey School - an upper school - were monastery-type schools run by Benedictine monks.

I missed my mum terribly, and hated my father. I felt like he had written me off. When I failed my O-Grades the first time around at the age of 16 and had to repeat fourth form it seemed like my dad gave up on me. I was a several-thousand-pounds-a-year sink-hole. He couldn't have cared less what I did with my life.

Towards the end of my time at school I began to ask questions about God. Why did he allow suffering? What was the point of life? I had a healthy respect for the Bible but I knew nothing about it. The only one I had was a miniature Bible on a key-ring which I bought on a school trip to Holy Island. No doubt I was panicking about having to leave the relative security of school and being released in to the world.

When I left school in 1983 I didn't know what to do with my life. I left it right to the last moment before opting just to copy my eldest brother and go in for Catering and Hotel Management. I scraped in to Robert Gordon's Institute of Technology in Aberdeen and found myself some digs on the outskirts of town. I was there for less than a week. I wrote some disparaging things about the landlord in a private letter. He read it, and threw me out. However, it turned out to be an eviction in my favour because the new place I found was in the centre of the city.

For the Easter holiday I went down to Rainham where the family kept its permanent home. At the end of the 70s we had moved house, and I had made friends with a boy named Richard who lived opposite. I spent a great deal time with him whenever our family was staying in Rainham. For much of that holiday we talked about God. It turned out his mother was one of Jehovah's Witnesses, and he was beginning to take an interest. His answer to why God allows suffering was appealing to me. He talked about the earth being transformed into a paradise, that we were nearing the end of this present system of things - "Five, ten years at most." He proved what he could by referring to scriptures in my tiny Bible-on-a-key-ring. At the end of the holiday, I headed off back to Aberdeen with a thrill in my heart. I looked up the Kingdom Hall - it was a stone's throw from the new digs I had found.

I started studying the bible with a young couple, and liked what I heard, but it only lasted four weeks before I had to go and work in a hotel as part of the course practical. I failed the first year of college and was thrown off the course, but by then I had decided that I wanted to be one of Jehovah's Witnesses and I returned to Rainham, found work in a shop, and carried on my studying. I was baptised on July 26, 1985, much to the resigned consternation of my parents.

In 1989 I moved up to Sudbury in Suffolk. My girlfriend at the time knew someone who knew someone who knew a couple living over the Kingdom Hall. They were expecting their first child and were about to move out. I rang the elders and they agreed that I could move into the flat. There was an older couple living in the flat next door. My girlfriend didn't want to come with me.

In the same month as moving to Sudbury, I went on a week's driving holiday to Scotland with Richard. While visiting Aberdeen the young couple who had first taught me the ways of the Witnesses informed me that two of the elders from their congregation had recently moved down to Ipswich to a neighbouring congregation. I got in touch with them, and they invited me over so that I could meet people in Ipswich. Through my new friends in Ipswich group I met Katherine Smith, and we got married in 1991. (One of my brothers went out with a Kathryn Smith, but that's a different spelling.)

In 1993 I was appointed an elder. That same year, my mother died.

The week in Scotland with Richard several years earlier had just about done us for the next twenty years. We barely saw each other after that. A few years after he departed from my life, however, I was introduced to another Richard - we'll call him Richard II. We shared a geeky interest in Star Trek, among other things, and we generally hit it off.

My father passed away in 2000. Both parents being dead, and having to sort out the family estate with my brothers, lead to a fair amount of introspection. Being made an orphan can do that. Katherine had been watching Oprah and told me about the tell-it-like-it-is psychologist, Dr Phil McGraw. Through his writings I learned the term "the authentic self". What he said woke me up to the fact that my life was a mess, and had been for a long time. I started trying to sort out my state of mind, and I began to feel a lot better for it. The idea that our lives are inauthentic made a great deal of sense to me. We live by scripts that have developed throughout our lives, and what we need to do is go back and see certain events in our lives for what they really were.

I was so enthusiastic about this new discovery that I thought I could employ some of the techniques in my ministry as an elder, but I came unstuck when I wrote a private letter to a member of the congregation making some suggestions that might improve her outlook. I included a set of questions gleaned from one of the books I had been reading. She passed these questions on to one of my fellow elders, and I soon found I was having to explain myself. It was felt that I had overstepped my bounds.

Richard II would say that he encouraged me to stand my ground, but I didn't need much encouraging. Soon I was before the whole body of elders, and they took the decision to dismiss me as an elder. I appealed the decision and the Special Committee that was set up to review my case was chaired by my best man's father. They upheld the decision. Once again, a private letter had got me evicted.

Around about this time, in an article published in the Watchtower Society's Awake! magazine, I came across a reference to Feeling Good, a book by Dr David Burns. The article was discussing negative thinking and it listed several distorted thinking methods from Feeling Good. That book helped me through the disappointment of being deleted as an elder. It was a necessary step in helping me reassess my motives. However, Burns encourages eliminating "should" and its derivatives from your mental vocabulary. This is a suggestion that jars when the Society's literature is replete with "should" statements. Also, I couldn't help noticing in the original article mentioning Feeling Good, that this particular negative thinking trait was conspicuously absent.

Also at this time I came across the works of child therapist Haim Ginott. I must have been loitering carelessly by the "Parenting" section in the local library. A random book plucked off the shelf at the library was going to result in a life-changing experience. The book was by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. Essentially channelling the parenting ideologies of Haim Ginott, Faber & Mazlish make successful parenting seem eminently achievable. A year later our first daughter was born, in August 2004.

Along with children comes the inevitable question of school. Katherine had been averse to home-schooling, but after reading John Holt she changed her view. Of course, Holt does not advocate schooling at home. It is more akin to trusting that children are willing learners and that they will absorb what they are interested in. To my mind, Holt's relaxed philosophy, that no pro-active teaching is required as children are essentially self-taught, clashed decisively with the indoctrination practised by Jehovah's Witnesses. I know which one made more sense to me. Little did I know that it was another nail in the coffin.

Ignoring the red flags that had begun to wave, I carried on trying to bend my thinking to conform with the organisation's. By now I was reading Dorothy Rowe. Her suggestion that we ought to be able to find a "therapist" among our nearest and dearest harmonised with my own opinion. She included the view that ministers could work in the same capacity. Despite "elders are not therapists" being the mantra among the hierarchy of Jehovah's Witnesses, I felt that with a little adjustment I could carefully employ some of the tools I had developed, and before long I was reappointed to serve as an elder. It was 2007. Our second daughter was born that same year...December 21st.

After little more than a year I began to realise that I had changed too much to serve any more. Trying to shepherd members of the congregation, I soon found myself feeling uncomfortable. My spiritual views were changing and developing, and I was having to juggle with words to feel at ease with some of the topics I was given to talk about. After I received a phone call from an elder in a neighbouring congregation questioning certain aspects of a public discourse I had given as being too worldly, and being more concerned with methods of psychology, I decided to step down as an elder. From then on, I began to take less of an active role in the congregation.

Soon after this, my old neighbour from over the Kingdom Hall put an acquaintance of hers in touch with me. Apparently he was having some doubts about his beliefs. We agreed to meet for coffee. He was having more than doubts, he was on the verge of quitting. He encouraged me to read a couple of books by Raymond Franz. From very early on as one of Jehovah's Witnesses I had been familiarised [sic] with this name. Once a member of the Governing Body, now ex-JW and Society whistle-blower, Raymond Franz was the organisation's very own Emmanuel Goldstein. I resisted and resolutely toed the party line. After several meetings for coffee and a few weeks of e-mail correspondence I suggested that it would be best if we did not meet any more. We kept in touch via e-mail, though, and he gently refuted my argument that Franz must be a bitter old curmudgeon by simply saying that he had never got that impression from his writings.

So, one evening curiosity got the better of me and I searched for Raymond Franz on the internet. I came across four chapters from his book Crisis of Conscience and decided to download these and read through them. They were the four chapters in which he gives the account of his own dismissal from the governing body, subsequent deletion as an elder, and eventual eviction from the organisation. His experience spoke to my heart and I knew that the observations he made were similar to my own. I purchased both of his books and realised that my house of faith was built upon a foundation of sand. Particularly persuasive were his demonstrations that the Society has not always been honest about its own history. As he said, "I now began to realize how large a measure of what I had based my entire adult life course on was just that, a myth — persistent, persuasive and unrealistic."

Through Raymond Franz I discovered two new authors. One was M. Scott Peck and his book A Road Less Travelled. Peck talks about serendipity - chance, good fortune, happy coincidence - and he ties this in with what he calls the miracle of God's grace. Grace is an elementary notion now somewhat alien to us. Basically it is love, mercy, kindness which does not expect anything in return. According to Peck, opportunities presented to us which lead to a self-discovery, and the freedom and joy which results, can be put down to nothing else but the all-embracing presence of grace.

The other author was James D Smart. I purchased a book with an intriguing title and this piqued my interest enough to purchase his dissertation of the book of Romans, "Doorway to a New Age". In there he references the existential theologians who describe the sinful man as the "inauthentic self". I felt as if two tunnels being dug from different ends had somehow met in the middle and broken through.

By this time I had stopped all activities with Jehovah's Witnesses. I had no desire to shake up anybody else's faith, and so I was not viewed as a threat, and the local elders decided to leave me to my own devices for the time being.

Katherine once tearfully said that she had been asking God for some kind of sign. It has not dawned on her that she was instrumental in my departure from the organisation. She has introduced me to several writers that have had such a dramatic effect on my life. My coffee-shop friend and his wife are the same age as Katherine and me. They have two little daughters about the same age as our two. These are not the signs she was looking for.

It was also Katherine that questioned me about being pro-active. Discussion with Richard II sometimes covered the same ground. He might even say that it was he who encouraged me not to remain silent. I decided to put my spiritual and theological views down in writing and publish them online. I just opened up a blog and put my thoughts out there. I went public in August 2011.

Mid-September 2011, barely four weeks later, it was discovered. I have no idea how. Only a week earlier I had spoken to my oldest brother and talked about my journey. One week later, Richard II told me that he'd had a phone call from my elders. They have discovered my website. Thankfully he knew nothing about it.

(Just by way of a curious diversion: The very next day, I cleaned windows for a Mr Smith. We talked about religion. It seems he too had been on something of a spiritual journey. His wife had recently been dismissed as an elder in their church. His outlook has led him to question certain things. The way he was talking sounded very familiar. How would he describe his position now? "I don't like labels," he said, "but the closest you could get would be called 'progressive' Christianity." I had only been on their forum that weekend after reading Spong and his view of the Bible which seemed sympathetic to mine. "May I suggest an author," he said, and pulled out some books. The blurb appealed immediately, and I pointed this out. It referred to Jesus as a "religious revolutionary". I agreed and explained that I didn't think he was the Christ, that this was an Israelite view, but that he saw something others couldn't see. Mr Smith told me that this is the same conclusion that this author has reached. The author's name is Borg. None of this seems to be particularly relevant to my situation - both of these leads were dead ends - but it is interesting nonetheless.)

The elders decided not to act on the discovery of my website. Everything went quiet and another few months went by. Then in February of this year I got a phone call. Another elder: "We know about your website. Could we meet for a chat?" The passing of a few months had crystallised my resolve. Had they asked to meet with me several months ago I would probably have declined. Now I felt ready to defend my position.

I met with two elders. The discussion was frank and friendly. In the process I asked why they have left it until now to talk to me. "We've only just found out about it." What this meant was, they had only just found out about it. The original group of elders had obviously chosen to keep it to themselves, but now it had come to the attention of a wider group. It was plain from my answers that I was not interested in altering my position. Several weeks later I was called to appear before a judicial committee - three elders chosen by the body of elders to judge my current position and decide whether I was guilty of a sin which required punitive action. The charge was "apostasy" - the refusal to accept the doctrines of the religion as truth. It was not a long meeting. They decided I must be expelled from the congregation. Such a decision would mean that no one in the organisation is allowed to associate with me. All associations must be curtailed - including family. The announcement was made to the congregation on April 4, 2012. The next day they celebrated the death of Jesus.

One Richard helped me in to the organisation, another Richard helped me out. And while the second Richard can no longer associate with me in view of my disfellowshipped state, I have since discovered that the first Richard has himself faded from the organisation and he is now back in my life again.

I might have been thrown out of an organisation I had devoted half of my life to, but on the other hand, I had made a much greater discovery: I had found my authentic self.

Like Paul, I am left to fill in the blanks myself. I don't know the story behind my arrival into this world. Coming four years behind the middle child, was I perhaps a surprise? Unwanted? Was a mental adjustment needed by my parents, an adjustment my father wasn't fully able to make? Had they already decided to send us to boarding school, or had the arrival of one more child sealed the deal? I don't know. These are questions I may never know the answer to, but considering them helps to heal the rift I felt between me and my father.

The story of Adam and Eve is the story of every person. We gasp breath in to our lungs when we are born, becoming a living soul, beholden to our parents for everything. At some early point we strike out for independence, bringing us in to conflict with them, like Eve eating from the tree she was told not to touch. An event introduces us starkly to our vulnerability. Shame divides us off from ourselves. Gerhard Von Rad says of shame, "it always has to be seen as the signal of the loss of an inner unity." We desire to decide for ourselves what is good and bad and not have this decided for us. It might be as seemingly insignificant as using mum's make-up when she has specifically told you not to. The Genesis account ties being naked in with shame.

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?”

He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”

And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”

(Genesis 3:6-11)

The Israelites had a saying which was eventually woven into the story of Job: "Naked I came out of my mother's belly, and naked shall I return there." Only by identifying our shame and the events and experiences surrounding it can we once more stand naked and unashamed. Doing this will uncover the real you.

So, if there is any predestination, it is this: It all leads back to you. We are pre-programmed to find ourselves. God is referred to as the Alpha and the Omega - the beginning and the end. Every man's life has the potential for being a journey of self-discovery. This capacity is within all of us. We go in through the out door.

Can we plot the points and join the dots that lead to our enlightenment?

If you are reading this, what has brought you here? Retrace the steps back to your own Genesis experience. Don't worry about missed opportunities. Whenever you are circling around the town centre there is always another turning further up the road.

Once your eyes are opened you begin to see the seed scattered everywhere, from Inception ("What's the relationship like with the father?") to Kung Fu Panda ("There is no secret ingredient,") yes, and even in the Bible. You are not selling out just because you can see some wisdom hidden in all the blood and thunder.

But, hey, maybe it is all just meaningless drivel. Perhaps, after all, life is just a bunch of stuff that happened.

Oh, by the way, at one point M. Scott Peck suggests that certain beliefs are formed even when we are unaware of it, in the first few months of life.

Frequently (but not always) the essence of a patient's childhood and hence the essence of his or her world view is captured in the 'earliest memory'. Consequently I will often ask patients, "Tell me the very first thing that you can remember." - The Road Less Travelled (page 204)

It got me thinking about my own situation. Was my first feeling of rejection really that time I was dropped off at Carlekemp and watched my parents disappear down the drive? Then I had a memory of leaving Pakistan when I was very little, no more than two or three. There is a group of people crying in the porch. Among them is the ayah (nanny) I have spent much of my little life being looked after by. I had obviously grown very much attached to her. That was my first memory of disharmony - being taken away from my ayah at a very early age. And then it struck me. I remembered her name. It was Grace.