Be Means Grow

“Be” Means “Grow”, and “Rail” means “Rail”

I found out an interesting thing. Etymology. The origins of the English word “be” starts with the Sanskrit word for “grow”. The English words “is” and “are” have roots in “breathe”.

Interesting, to a dork like me. “Be” is a constant, not really a decision, sort of a background assumption meaning that you will “grow”. “Is” and “Are” are more immediate, an action that you do, even though it is just about equally automatic as just “being”.

To be is to grow seems natural to me. Whatever is in nature grows or dies. I know more today than I did yesterday. That’s inarguable. Unless I spent yesterday pounding down White Claws and twerking on the corner for more White Claws. But I didn’t do that. Nobody has any proof, anyway.

Being is a long-arc. We grow throughout our lives. All your life, you’re growing up. Is and are are temporary states, things you are experiencing right now, which may or may not be part of the being. Hell, last night my cat climbed on my back and started kneading on me at like 4 in the morning and I was like “dude, please stop.” That’s an is/are. Not a part of my being, but a part of my experience. That is drawing breath. That is not reflective of my continuum or my time on earth.

Modern American Chirstianity is Satanic. It is all about prosperity gospel and preaching that “god helps those who help themselves” and it is very interested in Earthly Rewards for people who succeed in this system. There is no basis for this. “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God,” says Jesus. Y’know, the Main Guy.

And rich Republican shit-heads have made up this whole myth about how “Actually, the ‘eye of the needle’ was a very wide gate in Jerusalem, so I can fuck over all of my employees and feel no guilt and duh duhh duhh”

Christianity is ancillary to capitalism for these diseased-minded freaks. “I’m doing so well, God must love me!” Even though actual Jesus told people to basically be a pauper and beg for provisions and even if you don’t get them, well just die probably.

You’re going to die. That black balloon bouncing against your forehead is death. It’s coming. Why, oh why, would you fall so in love with this place and it’s temporary pleasures? God tells you to disconnect. There’s much more available, outside of material gains and social stature. Why won’t you come back to that simple love? Breathing, and growing. That’s what we’re here for.

I can’t tell you for sure, but I think the loop closes, and I understand it all. Reality dips in to kiss my mind once more, and it’s unfathomably beautiful. I am.