#old religions

[thehyperfixpod]

@SingularWheels has returned for another episode to talk about The Cathar Crusade!

Yes I drew O'Hare and Beebus as Catholic monks if youre wondering.

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S2E12 - The Cathar Crusade w/ Wheels - Pinecast

Episode Notes Hyperfixate with us here on discord: https://discord.gg/hybYc64UX4 or on Twitter at https://twitter.com/thehyperfixpod Gue

[willtasker]

I Have A Story

Rewind to 1997. The first girl that ever paid attention to me, even if it was just friendship, has a sardonic smile, bright red hair, is regularly in school plays and has very wise eyes. She’s a looker, and why she likes to talk to me I’ll never know. I’m awkward and socially stunted, wearing denim shirts over tshirts with denim pants and some bad Beethoven hair.

I will say this without any irony: I suspect my teenage (and now half-life-long) adoration of Gillian Anderson was rooted because of this woman. I still have a thing for redheads and women who can put me in my place. And she has this way of saying one thing, but the tone of her voice is “Get over yourself, kid”. Always with a smirk, always big glassy eyes that squint when she laughs.

She’d sit next to me uninvited when we were in lunch or in a class doing group projects. She just... say next to me and tried to pull me out of my shell. No idea why. But we would make each other laugh and she was easy to look at and I always always always felt uncomfortable next to her - like I showed up to a wedding in a tuxedo t-shirt. But she talked to me, and I appreciated it, even when she was a tease.

One day during class, she’s pushing my buttons hard. I wasn’t in the mood for it, and by the time we’re walking out, I spin on my heel in the middle of the hallway and call her something incredibly rude and even vaguely sexist. It was out of my mouth and in the world without thinking and I remember the cold, empty apricot pit blooming in my stomach as I watched her turn her back on me and leave. She marched away with determination and I knew in an instant I’d fucked up so hard, it would lay ground work for years to come.

(I called her that afternoon, to apologize. She cried, I cried. Full My So-Called Life anger-sad moment. She didn’t forgive me, she hung up, and that was that.)

I think I spent months trying to repair the damage but it never quite clicked. She moved away that year (Our... sophomore?), and I was filled with regret for having lost a friend and a crush, never having been able to mend that fence. But I moved on with my life. I didn’t forget her name or the hold she had over me but I fumbled and stumbled and rolled downhill toward whatever dull and minor success I had at life and relationships for years and years to come. The fullness of who I am now happened mostly after she disappeared from my life.

Fast forward to last year. Out of nowhere, she adds me on Facebook. Nice surprise but I didn’t think much of it.

Fast forward to last week. She messages me to ask for my phone number, so she can add me on a video app. I’m half in the bag, I’m on vacation, its 9 at night, so sure, why the hell not. I love conversation when I’m buzzed.

The talk was about what you’d expect - how are you, what do you do for a living, how are you holding up in this quarantine, etc - when it pivots to the subject of that fight. I did not expect us to get choked up over it, as my memory of that - though sacred to my development - is not fresh or even detailed.

And with that creak in her voice I remembered so well, she tells me, and then tells me again, “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. You need to let it go, babe. And honey... honey, what is it you exactly feel guilty for? You didn’t hurt me, I hurt me. When is it you’re going to remember you’re not that person anymore? When do you get to do that for yourself?”

Now I am not saying this is a blooming renewal of old friendship, I am not saying that we’re besties or anything of whole, and modern value. We may never talk again after this week - but the utter and complete relief of being freed from the bondage of old ennui and self-loathing has me flying free, drunk and reeling. To quote Captain Kirk, “I feel young”.

The yoke, though still around my wrists and neck and weighing me down, is so much less, finally. And I am not sure what it means or what to do without it - but it feels like a dream. Like I have died and been allowed a quiet and peaceful eternity. I had some idea that such an old scar was disfiguring without ever once expecting it to heal, let alone by the person who was there when it happened.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve felt like this, and still have fingers left.

[mylifeatwar]

Book 3, Chapter 1, Page 4

Archived Text Follows:

Hey Everyone!

The conflict seems to have abated, but now it appears there is something that is more a matter of… faith. If you’d like to learn more about Amalia’s reference to A Grande Missão, click on our Patreon link to the left to check out a mini write up on the subject. More Lore!

Thanks for reading,

– Luther Out

Comment Text Follows:

nweismuller - Interesting to me that faith in A Grande Missao has become so pervasive that Amalia considers praying to the concept a meaningful idea. Salbhaca sounds like a strange place indeed.

BSabre - A good parallel would be the Martians in The Expanse, and their dedication to terraforming Mars.

Daniel - It should be spelled Missão. The omission of the tilde changes the pronunciation of the word drastically.

Mr. Patenge - Fixed! Thanks for the reminder, I knew we’d forgotten something.

Daniel - No problem! I really appreciate your take on mech combat.

[monkeymuck]

“You’ll make a fine sacrifice to Cthulhu son.” 

[tattooed-felidae-blog]

Death of the “old gods”.

What happens when a religion dies? Do the deities feel it? Do they notice?

I imagine them fading, but so very slowly that at first they don’t even notice it. 

Then one day Hades looks at Cerberus and notices that all three heads have gone grey around the muzzles, and that the once fiery eyes are now pearly and blind. 

Or Odin notices that the fires in Valhalla no longer burn so brightly and the Great Halls of Asgard are draughty and beginning to crumble; whilst brambles and weeds creep into Fólkvangr.

Imagine the ancient Egyptian Gods and Goddesses realising that they can see the walls of their temples through themselves. Becoming ever more transparent as people embrace new ideologies and turn away from them.

Think also of those who find themselves repackaged for the sensibilities of a new religion. Edges blunted, back-stories altered, shoehorned into a role which doesn't quite fit. Do they yearn for their past or are they thankful just to still be believed in? 

....This has been a weird post and I apologise. Loss, death and religion are praying on my mind at the moment.... 

[priestessofthemist]

A New Age for the Olde Ways

[doodbetumblin]

First, i'm not sure why this is even being brought up. McElwee is arguing with a dead man! Hahahah… And so by default, Hitchens has already won. 😎 Regarding the argument against the truce, let's be really, really honest here. In Atheism's 'short' history, it's not perfect either (the forementioned of Hitchens' support for the Iraq War, Dawkins, …). You know what we have here? Competing personal values. Instead of warring and what not, why don't these value systems all stop making other people's lives miserable and keep one another in check instead? Every personal system, by our err nature, has faults. If, for example, people wanna promote the wisdom which Hitchens showed, then do it. Just don't make the mistake of not thinking for yourself. Even Hitchens was human. (if Dumbledore was human, my caff, so was Hitchens)

[viperslang]