When I fly in planes, I like to spend the whole time staring out the window with my mouth hanging open like "I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM SEEING CLOUDS FROM THE TOP!!!".
This annoys other passengers a great deal. Particularly if I am not in the window seat. Because some people have no spiritual imagination and do not understand that the price of seeing the miracles surrounding you is that sometimes someone's t-shirt ends up dipping itself in someone else's coffee.
If they had spiritual epiphanies more often, they wouldn't need so much coffee. I am just saying.
Anyway, I never have to stay in the aisle seat for very long. People are very willing to switch with me, which is a surprisingly generous act for people who often have very grumpy faces because as I said earlier, they do not have my spiritual imagination.
Liz <in head>: Wait. I see something IN the clouds. No I don't. Yes I do. There is definitely something there. It looks like a structure. It could be Olympus. Or heaven. But it looks more Olympus-ey. It is definitely a bias of my home culture that I would see heaven, when that structure definitely looks more like Olympus. But how is either one possible, because we KNOW that no dieties live on the clouds? Except, science is not a set of conclusions, it is rules for observation and examination, and I am observing Olympus RIGHT NOW. What does it mean for me to discredit the evidence of my own senses due to preconceived notions? Am I strong enough in my confidence in the authenticity of observed experience to reverse my deeply held belief that there are no structures on the clouds? Or am I just a slave to the preconceived notions established by previous scientists, rather than a true rationalist myself? What role does humility play in this--trusting in the exploration and experience of others, and weighing it against my own? How can I authentically move through the world now, having seen direct evidence of life on the clouds with my own eyes?
Other Liz: That is the Rocky Mountains.
Liz: Well. That was a waste of about five deep philosophical crises of faith.
Other Liz: It's fine. They are a renewable resource.
Liz: It's just that I don't like to waste a chance to have a meaningful take home lesson.
Other Liz: Maybe the lesson is that when you see something, you should hold off with the instant and prolific theological pontification, and just quietly observe for a minute.
Liz: No. That is definitely not the lesson.
P.S. Looking for other funny UU stuff? Check out this post in which I--er--kinda suck at seminary. Or this post in which I kinda suck at gardening (if you think gardening is not distinctly UU, you have not been to church recently!). Or this post, which is kinda UU in that it starts with a May Sarton quote... but I'm really just including it because it's my favourite. :-)