I had an eye-opening dream last night. Well, technically this morning as I was waking-up, but anyway.
…I’m not convinced but I’m fairly certain there are soulmates. Possibly what is called “twin flames” although I wouldn’t call it that but definitely soulmates. What would it take to convince me? Scientific evidence. Science doesn’t prove or disprove the supernatural. I’ve heard both atheists and Christians try to argue that it does, but as someone who respects actual, real science I know that science is beautifully neutral about things like God. It’s supposed to work like…a well crafted, ocean crossing ship. A seafaring vessel that can take whatever nature throws at it. A strong, determined, tough as nails joy of human development. Science isn’t a replacement for God. Science is a mark of human progress.
But God…God is mysterious. Soulmates are mysterious too, should they exist. And…as terrifying as it is for me to consider as someone who is both a Christian and a human who respects actual progress…I do wonder if Christianity has been slaughtered a bit when it comes to romantic love. I’m not sure how, but I’m starting at almost 40 years old to think that Christianity has had that issue at the heart of its most vile flaws (so to speak) for centuries. Romantic love, or rather the absence and/or mistreatment of it. Feminists might quickly add, of course, that that’s likely due to a pervading toxic patriarchy that has dominated our interpretation of the Bible or perhaps a toxic patriarchy that wrote the Bible in the first place. …I wouldn’t necessarily agree with them on all of their conclusions and that’s important to note, but…I do find that angle fascinating.
Anyway, I’m angry… I’m angry at people who have turned themselves into nothing but unreachable, barely readable, almost inaudible assholes. Assholes. Not meaningless assholes though, mind you, because no human being is meaningless…regardless of how they treat themselves or others. …But…assholes. I’m angry at assholes. Or maybe, aspiring assholes because sometimes I think that’s too grand a name for these sort of people.
I love…”The Shining”. I think that’s one of my favorite films. Isn’t is amazing?! It’s not flawless…but golly does it come close. It’s genius. Absolutely…fantastic. And you know, that one scene keeps coming back to me. The scene with the woman in the bathroom in room 237. That scene keeps coming back to me…
Golly was that woman evil, but also…I really think she was…wildly angry. Like, not in a rage per se but so…engrossed in her longing for violence. Not a masculine sort of violence though. A feminine variety of violence… She wanted to rip Jack apart from the inside out subtly, carefully, fastidiously, perfectly. Every piece of art has numerous interpretations but my interpretation of “The Shining” rests on the idea that Jack is reincarnated from the previous caretaker from the hotel’s heyday in the 1920’s.
Jack is called back to the hotel not because of Danny or his wife exactly but because he’s himself. He’s evil. He’s profoundly evil… And his life has amounted to this moment. All his aspirations, all his dreams…all his sins…all his love, should it exist…is being pulled back into the past because the hotel has decided to kill him. The hotel is an entity but only in so far as it consists of numerous different other individual entities. And they all long for…justice. It’s almost as if the “the hotel” is in Purgatory and the ghosts are in therapy…and they’re sorting through their lives and as part of the restoration of their souls into their perfect sinless state they must process through the ills of “the caretaker”. Who was he…really? What did he do to us? Who was he really? His soulmate in 237 seems to think he’s beyond wretched. A worm of a man longing to be as much as a rotting carcass of his former self…and as his soulmate she seems to find it hilarious.
I love science. I love it because it deals in truth. Real, actual, truth. Or, at least, it’s supposed to. I think, as a Christian, that it’s often a grand, epic vessel used by God. A rare bird. A special, remarkable mark of the progress of our species.
And…we are not beasts but humans. Mere humans. Mere sheep according to Christ. That’s how vulnerable we are…to God.
God warns us against conjuring up…ourselves, so to speak. Why? Because it’s dangerous. Seemingly… As living beings we’re at a disadvantage with “ourselves” conjured up since our bodies are fallen. Our spirits are eternal. Our flesh rots eventually… Our spirits do not end. Our spirits do not end. Your spirit is eternal. That’s part of the idea of Christianity. Our spirits live on…forever. You…yes you…never truly die.
How can that be? That we hear without ears? See without eyes? Feel…without a brain? Because…we metaphorically exist in room 237. We are the twins wandering the halls. We are…in the “Gold Room”. Metaphorically. We…exist. That’s the idea.
Can it be proved by faith? No. That’s…not how faith works…necessarily. As part of your faith experience you might doubt and need proof, but that’s not the definition of the word faith.
Was Swedenborg (who also loved science seemingly) correct or are we stuck with a “ twin flame” forever? It’s unclear to me… If I have a “twin flame” I can’t tell…what…happened. It seems as though there’s something a bit…absurd about it. One way or another. I’m not literally like the woman in room 237 at all…well…I do like taking baths but other than that…we’re seemingly quite different. Ha! If anything I’m more Jack. I’m a woman though, of course…I just…don’t understand what in the world happened. *smile*
Unlike Jack though, why am I taking a bath in room 237…by myself…in a huge hotel…and I always hear music from the 1920’s playing from downstairs while I sit there? In my version of “The Shining” I love room 237, but I’m alive. My family is fine. I’m just…enthralled by the Art Deco details of that room and I keep asking my ex-husband (who I’m still very happily raising my kids with) why there’s always 1920’s jazz playing whenever I’m in that room. He doesn’t know… He says he’s heard music sometimes playing in the kitchen…but…he says to him it always sounds like it’s coming from outside. Like there’s a song playing outside… He wonders if there’s a sound system we don’t know about installed throughout the whole hotel. I’m comforted by his explanation even though I doubt it…
The hotel possibly killed Jack. But that was the literal caretaker Jack from the film “The Shining”. Who are we? Who are you? Who am I? Where are you in “The Shining”? Racing down the hall like Danny on your tricycle? Who are you?
I’m in the tub. I’m not rotting yet. And all I hear is jazz and look forward to my Eggs Benedict in the morning before nature hikes and fun days exploring the maze. Sometimes I have lunch in the maze. My whole family packs lunches and explores the maze… My whole family loves the hotel. The hotel has no problem with us… They seem keen on us living actually.
Maybe they need more time. Maybe the hotel wants us to stay alive because…I am the woman in the tub in my own life. I’m alive so I’m like Jack…but I’m…the woman. In 2021. Not 1921. In a tub. Drinking from my 1960’s English ironstone Wedgwood. Confused…alive…incredibly sad oftentimes and angry at assholes…but…alive. *smile* Sometimes I listen to the jazz and cry…or wish I was crying. And that doesn’t bode well for whoever will arrive in the room on the other side. It’s not a good sign. Probably. But…I’m not God. I’m just a sheep.
I’m a sheep in a tub listening to jazz. My wool is getting cleaned from the dirt in the maze. I’m dirty but not rotting…and like my uncle who passed this summer…I’m hoping to be cremated in my old age when I die… Maybe placed in an antique urn and kept with my kids and grandkids. We’ll see…
What about you? What’s your dream? Do you have dreams? Do you watch films or just sit in front of them thinking about yourself? Do you know other people exist? Does it make you happy to know you’re not alone or does it irritate you? Do you want…a soulmate? An…actual…real…other half of your soul?
Soul. I’d bet your soul belongs to your spirit and that your spirit and soul belong to God. Do you want a…mate. For you? You? …Who you really are? Because that’s the idea.