Easter arrived this year and brought with it more snow and freezing temperatures. How very ironic that the very weather has an identity crisis on the morning we’re supposed to be thankful for being saved from our naturally sinful selves.
Break out the champagne and bring the lamb to slaughter. Actually, skip the bubbles and bring me the hard stuff, because I’m really not in the mood to tolerate your notion of original sin and forgiveness.
If you have no capacity for philosophical thinking, don’t worry sweetie, just remember that dressing for Easter in Canada is difficult. No one looks good in bulky pastels, and mud is a bitch when it comes to delicate pink pumps.
After writing three paragraphs explaining it all to you, I decided to forgo explaining my distaste for this particular holiday and leave you to judge or not judge me as you see fit. After all, it’s my life, not yours, so the bottom line is this: Unless we crack open an icy cold bottle of Death’s Door and get handy with some tonic and limes, we’re likely not going to have this conversation.
Ok, honestly, even if we do that, we’re not having the conversation. Speak to me of your dreams and lustful wanting, but don’t preach abstinence, sin, or deprivation. It’s all bullshit darlings. Induced shame and guilt are never flattering accessories.
The idea of original sin, God and the historical Jesus don’t really do it for me. Never have, never will. I’m more of a Buddhist philosophy gal, with a heavy grounding in Western Law based on Christian ethics with a lot of left-wing tolerance thrown in for good measure. I’m sure in previous lives I was a philosopher, witch, and hippie, so you’ll just have to get over your conservative-judgmental self if we’re going to be soul mates.
Easter is this twisted spin on pagan Ostara celebrations. Fertility and rebirth really don’t jive with a celebration based on the masochistic human construct of original sin.
If you think I’m blasphemous, I challenge you to take a toffee hammer to your goey ideas about original sin. Instead of restrictions on basic human needs (nutrition, sexuality, rest and rejuvenation),I propose a deep inward consideration of what you think you’re getting from choosing shame, guilt and abstinence ( in all of its forms) .
If we all connected with the same earth in mind which all our feet are planted on, I really doubt we’d be so damn twisted when it comes to economic policy, agriculture, pollution, sexuality and gender roles. But what do I know, I’m only a woman?
So, this Easter I shall not be rejoicing in someone having died for my inherent sin. I wasn’t born a sinner. I was born perfect. Only then was I marinated in years of rhetoric about how a woman should be. They’re only ideas darlings, not locks and chains.
So, on this day with all the rhetoric about sin and salvation I will be more deeply rooted in the idea of vitality, personal ethics, and fertility of course. I will however partake in the enjoyment of a Rheo Thompson buttercream egg, you know, so the masses don’t stone me for me being a whore and a heathen.