Saobhaidh 'n t-Airt

 My kids are quite fond of the Harry Potter series of books as well as the movies, the latest of which Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, has recently been yanked from this fall's release schedule and tossed about eight months into a summer 2009 slot. Why? Because Warner Bros., like every other movie studio, is a collection of some of the greediest social parasites outside of Washington D.C.

Read about it here.

Nevermind that the film is 100% complete. Nermind that the people who will be shelling out their $8 or more to see the film, the people from whom Hollywood gets its billions, want to see the bloody thing when they want to see it. But none of that matters in the face of greater profit opportunities. After all, who wants to settle for filthy, stinking rich when you can have filthy, stinking, rotting fish in a septic tank, burning the hairs in my nostrils rich?

Unfortunately, the thousands of bloggers who will write with all manner of vehemence about this subject will also grudgingly fork over the dollars on opening weekend and prove that Warner Bros. is right in taking advantage of the American way of life; that is to say, a passion for the freedom to speak about an injustice but the apathy to let it happen anyway if talking alone won't stop it.

Well, I can play at that game, too. I have devised a way for the public to make their opinion known by doing the thing they like to do most: sit on their asses. It's really simple and everyone can do it without showing an ounce of fortitude, conviction, or any of those other long words people don't know.

Here's the plan: don't go to opening weekend.

Opening weekend brings in the big dollars for any movie release. Since it's that release date that Warner is counting on, hit them where it hurts. When Half-Blood Prince opens, don't go see it that weekend. Wait until the next weekend. Even better, go see it at a matinee during the week. Protest against the wicked capitalists and save a couple bucks while you're doing it.

You won't see me and my kids waiting in line to see Warner's golden calf of 2009. We'll be there Tuesday afternoon, when all the good seats are empty.

 NOTE: I've decided, for the most part at least, to mirror my blogger posts here, so that my livejournal isn't just a blank (which tends to make people worry) and so that I don't have to give up my blogger account because I like that site better for actually writing entries.

So, here's the latest.

My little world has been in tumult of late. I’d never before experienced what one might call a crisis of faith. I don’t want to ever go through one again.

I don’t think I’ll be returning to my novel for some time. Not only can I not seem to reach the proper frame of mind for penning a long narrative, but I have more important things demanding my time and energy. I didn’t even attend the most recent meeting of my writers’ club, and I may not attend any for a while. I do have a couple of friends there, however, so I may drag myself in just to see them. It’s one of my very few opportunities for socialization.

I do still have a number of Charlotte and Isle of Skye stories in my head, so I won’t say I’ve given up on writing fiction. The occasional short story may even find itself submitted to the big, scary world of publishing.

Rather than fiction, I intend to return to my roots and focus on poetry, the oral storytelling tradition, and song. Gaelic culture has always placed great emphasis on these three things (two if you look at things from a Gaelic point of view; traditionally, song and poem were considered the same thing). I need to study the art of the filidh and bard, the two types of Scottish Gaelic poets before England dismantled the clan system and Gaelic society with it. I also intend to go back further to the poets of ancient Ireland and study their methods.

I’ve enjoyed writing stories; it’s a fun pastime. But I’ve always considered it a lesser art form in comparison with poetry. The ancient Gaelic poets sought inspiration from the Gods (or God, as the case may be) and were thought to possess the ability to bless or blight a man with words. I have found poetry in religious worship to be very fulfilling and, I feel, pleasing to the Gods. I think I have it in me to be a better poet and I owe it to myself to work at it.

I came to writing short stories because of my love for the oral storytelling traditions of Ireland and Scotland. I know some stories but not at all as many as I would like. Storytelling season traditionally begins at Samhainn, that is the night of 31 October. Between now and then I intend to learn at least a few new stories to tell to the family when the opportunity arises. Also, I’m hoping that the stories I write will be worth reading aloud, so that I might add a bit to the oral tradition that way.

So where did all this change and upheaval come from? What set off the chain of events that has led me to this point?

I don’t have a clue.

Simply put, one day I found myself doubting. Doubting the Gods, doubting my imperfect knowledge of them, doubting the ways I worship them. I doubted my faith’s rightness, its ability to meet my spiritual needs, and my ability to be true to it. I doubted everything there was to doubt and then some, and it got worse day by day. I’ve never felt such a drastic, crushing lack of faith in all my life.

Raised Southern Baptist, I went to church at every opportunity. I was very devout as a child though I had little encouragement from my family or the other members of our little congregation. I decided on my own to walk to the front of the church one day and asked to be saved and baptized. I got a tiny book of the New Testament and carried it with me to school every day, and I spent many a recess in the far corner of the playground reading that book and praying. When the assistant pastor one day gave me my own Bible, I memorized all the books and read it virtually from cover to cover.

That’s when it all fell apart.

I found the Bible to be a series of contradictions, a collection of violent and ugly stories, and, I felt at the time, a tissue of lies. At about twelve years old I made up my mind that the Christian church had nothing to offer me, and I never went back.

But this was not a crisis of faith. I still believed in God (though I wasn’t overly concerned with Jesus), and I had faith and I prayed and I knew that someday I would come across the truth.

I can’t tell you exactly how I came from those ideas to the religion I have now. I know most of the steps in between, but I don’t know what ever prompted me to leave the god of Abraham for good. Anyway, the point is that I haven’t had serious questions about my faith since I first began to read the Bible, and I’ve never felt the emptiness in my soul that this experience gave me.

I pray I never do again.

I have found the answers to some of my questions and that has left me feeling optimistic. During the course of my quest to understand what could be wrong with either myself or my religion to make me doubt so, I’ve realized that my research into the Gaels and their pagan religious expressions has become somewhat static. I thought I knew enough to get by quite well and I haven’t done any serious, in depth research for a while. Now I’m back to buying new books, taking notes, working on translations, and all the other things I need to do to not only satisfy my curiosity but to fulfill my spiritual needs.

Doubt and uncertainty can destroy one’s faith and suffocate one’s spirituality. But blind faith, taking things at face value and refusing to acknowledge facts, contradictions, and obvious signs, are much more dangerous. I don’t yet have enough distance between myself and my spiritual crisis to value its benefits fully. For the most part, I still feel like a faithless slug, asking the Gods to prove themselves to me because I’m having a hard time believing. But I think that, after the wounds have healed, I’ll find my faith all the stronger for facing a thorough scrutinizing and coming through it virtually unblemished.

You may, or may not, remember me as audient_void. I deleted that journal a number of months ago. I'm back because I once again want to participate in certain communities and would rather not try to do that anonymously.

However, I won't have much time for this journal. I haven't had much time for my regular blog over on blogger. You can check it out if you like. Click this.