When I was a child I would often sit in the garden with my mother's old leather-bound Bible. I would search its pages for signs and secrets even then. I still have that Bible. I still search its pages. Most souls don't truly believe in the existence of other worlds, or even hidden regions of this world. I've spent a long time peering into the abyss. Be careful, they say, lest the abyss peer back into you. There is truth in that adage. I experienced it first-hand. But I didn't go looking for shades and forms beyond the veil. Not initially. It seems the realm came to me first. Only then did I peer. I feel like I had no choice. I remember sitting in my favourite public gardens as a youth; the Rookery in Streatham, Myatt’s Fields Park in Camberwell. I remember thumbing through the pages of that leather-bound Bible, sometimes with tears in my eyes, despairing at the apparent insanity of both men and gods. There is so much cruelty in the world, reflected or perhaps inspired, in part, by our religions. We are like dangerous children with our stories. Jealous, possessive, violent. We kill for our stories. We use them as pretexts to enslave and desecrate others; a nightmarish familicide that seems to have no end. But I am comforted when I read words of love and kindness and empathy in those scriptures, when I can feel the passion and sincerity behind the words, all but lost in the war and tales of war.
Gethsemane from Raj Sisodia on Vimeo.