Friday, May 20, 2011

Hmm, and maybe not...

This is the post I submitted to San Rafael Patch this morning, assuming they'd approve it and up it would go, like the last 2.  But now it's been 15 hours and I suspect it won't be approved, for some reason still unknown to me.  Oh wellies, here it is. Those who read me a couple of days ago will recognize some of it, but I did expand just for Patch purposes.  
As I write this, we stand on the brink – so we’re told – of apocalypse.  Yes, on May 21st, 2011, Jesus returns.  If you’re a believer, you’re good.  If you’re not, you’re hosed.  Saved Christian souls will go straight to heaven, the rest of us are in for a few months of fiery misery before the world comes to a complete end on October 21, 2011. 
Apparently, thousands of people, listeners to Harold Camping’s Family Radio, are ready.  They've already given away their possessions, stopped paying their bills and mortgages, gone to confession or otherwise made peace with their god, and are just hanging out now waiting for the Second Coming, currently scheduled for 6:00 pm PDT. 
Me: I’m going to BevMo and picking up a few bottles of champagne.  I will be celebrating all weekend, celebrating the beauty of the world we live in and the extraordinary gift it is to be alive right now.  The Apocalypse?  More like the A-not-alypse.
Because nothing is going to happen.
We’ll all wake up Sunday, May 22nd, just like always.  I’ll open my eyes like I always do, take in the sight of the redwood trees in my neighbor’s yard, marvel at their size and grace and stunning good looks, and get up, get caffeinated and get on with life.
And have a mimosa.  OK, I'll go to yoga first, but then I'll have a mimosa.
Here’s what I’ll be toasting: That we’re still here, on this gorgeous rock.  That this place we’re in, this life we have, is what we get – this is it.  Yes, sometimes it may be hard, sometimes it may be awful, but in the midst of all of that, our hearts still beat, birds still sing, the sun rises and the sun sets.  And rises.
I'll be raising my glass and toasting the end of Apocalypse itself -- may this failed prediction open the eyes of those who believed in it.  May this be an end to fear, to wishing for some reality other than the one we're in, which is, as much as it sometimes can suck, perfect, beautiful, divine. It is, in a word, Heaven.  Right here and right now. 
Maybe that's too much to wish for, but since we're going to be here for a while, why not?  There's time.

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