The True Name Of God

The True Name of God is You. I am a coherent and consistent collection of memories of events and interpretation. This fact is being expressed with the memory of the English language, the memory of computer and software manipulation, the memory of the world beyond these walls. This fact is being expressed because I assume these patterns of points of light and dark can be resolved by a mind into words that express meaning and that that meaning contains utility. And perhaps that function is no more significant that to remember who I am. I am also the will of the machine. In this case, the machine is a biological conglomeration given legal title to certain rights and responsibilities as an individual member of a larger entity known as America. It is this machine that must suffer the indignities of the physical realm. That must be fed, clothed, bathed, and rested. And (oh, the horror) must at times be politically correct. Basically, there is only memory and stimulus. The memory of being stimulated. And the interpretation of all three. For instance, yesterday I was hungry. A quick stroll to the local supermarket resulted in a Primo’s Margherita pizza, a substance able to turn the unpleasant stimulus of hunger into the more agreeable sensation of being sated with minimal fuss. The import of this insignificant event resides solely within the ease of its deconstruction into the three variables. And how complicated is simplicity? Memory indicates that the walk light is a legal entitlement to cross the street, yet it is interpretation of memory which stimulates further caution. I interpret the verb, ‘to drive,’ to mean a skill beyond the grasp of the general populace. Memory and interpretation also inspired the final result, a very specific form of nourishment. However, it was the dual stimulants of a crowded store and a pocketful of cash directly resulting in the hit-and-run, when it was my intention to browse… And what of intention? Another variable of the human condition, or merely the stimulus of memory, interpreted? I shall let god decide. You. Patterns of light and dark; pixels of gray and green align across this monitor with the intent to express certain meaning. But there can be no meaning without you, for I am merely I. The Ellen January of the immediate now, and you are everything else. And within the assumption there is anything else lies the true house of god. No names, no capitals, no ritual; the secret of god is not to remember what you have been told, but to forget. Religion exists to associate morality with divinity; everything else is icing upon that bitter cake. Morality exists to constrain the will of

the individual to the law of the society; divine association is mandated because no individual benefits from morality. None. And no conscious act is performed without the anticipation of some benefit. Therefore, the process of religion is to restrict actions in this life with the promise and/or threat of the next. Unfortunately, within that process operate individuals. These individuals collect titles and hand out names, assume the divine mandate without the mortal responsibility, and corrupt the process they profess to serve. While any system risks corruption from the individual desire for benefit, religion is the only one assumed beyond human agency. Every other system can be assigned merit by historical review; and be maintained, adjusted, or discarded appropriately. Religion’s supposed divine origins serve to protect it from the scrutiny of mere mortals; and, perversely; can only evolve in the direction of corruption. Consider the sacred text as the security log of the commercial edifice of the religion itself. When things run as intended, there’s nothing to report. It is only deviation from the norm that inspires documentation. The problem with this security log is that people believe in it regardless of physical evidence (or lack thereof) and the worst of these security guards “make the facts fit the crime,” rather than the logical opposite. And for the promise of virgins in paradise, a man will strap on a bomb. And if that man were you? What is the assumption being made with every story ever told? That you are like me; memory, stimulus, and interpretation; and that together, we are humanity. Yet I am, and nothing else. I remember, I hunger, I fear; I that assumes. I that feels the pain, and the love, and the hate; and beyond the I of frivolous desire lurks the I of the animal. The predator. And if you are not a meal, you are a threat; otherwise no consideration of you would occur. Therefore, god. I can imagine being the first man among monkeys. I peer at them cautiously through the bushes as I finger my club, weighing their nutritional value against the likelihood of becoming nutrition. And there you are, lurking around a tree, watching my meal; watching me. Then god, the sense of being watched; a sense that occurs beyond perception and memory, a sense rife with unspoken threat. How can it be otherwise? Once I become I, everything else becomes merely else. What is the extent of the animal? To eat, to sleep, to mate, and to die; any awareness involved is limited to recognizing the dangers of the environment. Any monkey has the sense to run from a lion, but it is this monkey who knows why. Big, with teeth, claws, and appetite. Thus the dawn of understanding, mindless terror can be subdued with a name. And for the first time in history, monkey overcomes lion. Of

course, there was the sharpened stick, the hours of observation and careful planning; never mind the sheer recklessness and utter dumb luck; the significance occurred from the self recognizing fear and conquering it. Thus the world is my domain. Everything in it is mine to use, weighed in the balance between comfort and effort. There is no place for you. Knowing I, there is no greater threat than you. Before me, merely hunger, fear, and sexual urge. After me, there is the bed of moss in the cozy cave. Urge becomes desire; compulsion curbed by knowledge. And fear exists to be vanquished. The spear subdues the lion, the cave subdues the thunder; you too shall be overcome. Nothing you could do would exceed my fear of what you might do; and no solution would suffice other than the final solution. Knowing me, thinking of you being like me; addition of these two variables always equates to death. And so it was, the third perception; awareness of god. I felt the eyes of god upon me when I first hunted you, and I hesitated. It is within that hesitation that civilization was born. Thus, it is written. You; therefore god.