How vibrators will create world peace.

 

At work, I have 6 inspirational messages on my walls that sum up my philosophy on what it means to be human: 

Stand up for what’s right, even if you’re standing alone. 

The sum of us is greater than all our parts. –Maya Angelou 

Take time to giggle. 

FRIENDSHIP: Imagine striving for oneness instead of sameness. 

The hand of friendship knows no color. 

Peace on Earth. 

I don’t spend my time sitting around with a beneficent look on my face, meditating on these concepts; in fact, most of the time, you can find me in my car muttering phrases like “jackass” to other drivers who can’t hear a single word I’m saying and have absolutely no idea that, were it legal and/or I knew I’d never get caught, I’d pull a roadside jihad on their ass so fast they wouldn’t know what just happened.

And when not doing that, I’m standing in line behind someone in the supermarket wondering how in the world they managed to dress themselves that day, much less successfully arrived at their destination. Or I’m watching yet another breaking news story on CNN about Britney’s crotchless outfit, marveling at the fact that—if the things a country’s citizenry cares about is a good measuring tool of its success—how the hell the United States of America has not yet imploded upon itself. 

My point is: the sentiments on my work posters represent the kind of human being I aspire to be; I obviously have a long way to go until I get there. And, while I completely understand where Sartre was coming from when he remarked, “Hell is other people,” when push comes to shove, I don’t actually think most people are so bad I’d seriously wish a big metal ball would fall out of space and hit them on the head. Because (and you may not believe this, but I swear it’s true) sometimes big metal balls do fall from outer space and hit people on their heads.

Unless that person is Pat Robertson. Because as far as I’m concerned, people who live by the sword are just asking to die by it: Pat has, in his lifetime, declared an entire town in Pennsylvania should be smote by God ; said the U.S. State Department ought to be nuclear bombed to teach the government who’s really in charge; and declared that women like Gloria Steinem are actually baby-eating witches. Granted, I don’t have the same direct phone line to God that Pat does so he could be right about all these things; I’m just sayin’. 

But then again. Maybe there would finally BE peace on Earth if we all just got out of each other’s faces and minded our own business and stopped killing each other (or playing religious-themed electronic games  that have us kill each other) when we refuse to convert to each other’s religious and/or political views.

Attempting to convert other people to your way of thinking about anything seems just a silly waste of time to me. Because doesn’t everyone just want to be loved and accepted for who they are, exactly the way they are? In my world, it is nothing short of sheer spiritual rape to deny love and acceptance to anyone on this planet for any reason, even if they are purple, gay, and smelly. And saying you hate the sin but love the sinner doesn’t quite make the cut either—that’s just an excuse for you to continue saying unspeakably horrible things about other human beings in the name of whatever dogma you’re following. You can tell the world until you’re blue in the face that you’re just trying to help by guiding those less fortunate, less spiritual, and less knowledgeable than you to something better and I’ll still think you’re a condescending asshole. And ay, there’s the rub, huh? Technically, going on everything I’ve just written, I love condescending assholes. Because that’s just who they are.

But it doesn’t mean I have to hang out with them and have lunch dates.

I’ve always thought that God, Mother/Father God, the Universal Power, the Creator, Allah, Zeus, Yahweh, the Great Spirit, a Big Bang…whatever people want to call it…created a world with natural rhythms that are so intricately magical, so mathematically incredible, and so harmoniously balanced, it’s absolutely impossible for any human being to truly ever grasp the level of astonishing intelligence that invented the life that’s been placed on our planet.

So I have a very, very hard time believing that whatever put us all here needs our help doing anything at all. It didn’t need our help when it created the first tiny molecules that breathed life into Earth, it didn’t ask us what we thought when the first plants and animals took over, and so I’m pretty sure it doesn’t exactly need our petty little ego-specific agenda-based opinions about how to run the place now either. The mere fact it continues to let us thrive here—thrive to the point we’re destroying all the hard work it took it 9 gazillion years to lovingly create—is a good testament that it either: doesn’t care because it doesn’t have emotions…or it’s a shining example of what healthy, functional love truly looks like (which is: you can’t control what anyone else does; you can only control how you choose to react) (for the record, the mentally healthy policy is always: don’t react…let other people dig their own graves, suffer their own consequences, and learn or not learn at their own pace and peril) (can ya tell I’ve been in therapy?) 

Why am I ranting about all of this?  

Because currently we are in the Season of Non-violence. Not everyone celebrates it because not everyone knows about it, but I started celebrating it when I started going back to church. It starts every year on January 30, the anniversary of Mahatma Ghandi’s assassination, and ends on April 4, the anniversary of Dr. King’s. 

And this one year for the Season of Non-Violence? My church invited a guest speaker to talk to us about the vibrating number theory: everybody vibrates to a number. I only understood half of what was said because it was all based on Pythagorus’ number theories about math, music, the nature of the Universe and how all that is tied to humanity’s ability to heal itself. Because when someone says something that contains the words number and theories to me, I hear: Math Math Math and then I start thinking about all the crap around my house I need to do. And I never think about all the crap around my house I need to do. 

Anyway, the important part was: most people are pretty decent and vibrate around a 200-300. The lower you go, the less nice you are; below 100, you’re just one big ass troublemaker. The higher you go, the more enlightened and tolerant you are. People like Dr. King and Ghandi? Probably in the 600-700’s. People like Jesus and Buddha? Vibrating in the 900’s. And here’s the world’s problem: the people who vibrate under 200, all the troublemakers? Usually end up assassinating all the people who vibrate at 600 and above.

Turns out, numbers less than 200 are a real nasty scourge upon the earth. So during the Season of Non-Violence and beyond, my aim will be for a safe 450-599. 

And I swear I tried as hard as I could to make this entire entry extremely tolerant of the intolerant and very pacifist toward the violent, but I’m sure I wasn’t successful: I’m still only in the 200’s. But one day maybe we’ll all make it to 1000.