In Her Own Words (6)

Wednesday, May 2, 2012, 15:14


If you want to get rich, invent a religion. Famous words – and oh-so-true, as well as logical and financially sound advice.

So that is exactly what I did. However, I refused to take the “I saw God and she was black” blueprint, since this would be so hackneyed. And of course, a person of my exquisite intellect would never expect the hoi polloi to fall for that spiel.

Knowing that where I live, there were many people who were disillusioned with the paternalistic, male-god religions, whereas at the same time desperate to hold on to the traditional monotheistic waffle, I did my homework.

The fact that I had not gone through any process of enlightenment or revelation means that my detractors cannot accuse me of faking it. My concepts are exceptionally multifaceted with infinitely bourgeoning twists. How can an ordinary person hope to understand my core dogmas, if sometimes, albeit rarely because it is too much trouble to edit my Tome, I make them up as I go along?

In my country, there is a legend which tells of how the Earth Mother let her Tears of Loneliness drip into the Great Meniscus of Nothing. Students of physics would know that when droplets fall on a stretch of water, they engender back-jets.

Ordinarily, these columns of the liquid shoot up and then fall back into the water, creating concentric ripples. However, this was In the Time of Before, so each back-jet became a Land Place.

I decided to work on this myth in order to create my religious group, which would be unlike anyone of the silly cults from which I stole ideas, and transmogrified them to into something totally plausible. And then, ironically, I found out that what I had envisioned and envisaged was nothing but the Truth. Mum spoke to me. It was not a trance, not a vision; she was there, on the beach, wearing a bandana, an aquamarine kimono and flip-flops as the ultimate disguise.

There are many pictures on the internet of multi-tasking women holding brooms, babies, pots, feather dusters, and more. Kuan Yin is The One with a Thousand Arms – and she has eyes in some of the palms of her hand, with which to see those who need her help.

However, please note that I did not make the mistake of others who thought they knew it all – for I really do. I am as genuine and unpretentious as they come.

I forbore to give Mum a consort. For had I done so, it would have meant that I had to give her a whole hagiography, philosophy and mythology (read history!) of rivals and offspring – including the equivalent of Nephelim and a couple of bastards to boot.

I know on which side my bread is buttered, just as I know that margarine is bad for health. That is why my religion is all things to all men – and women, and children – about which, later.

To recruit my first batch of Faithful, I took out innocuous advertisements in the press, peppering them with words like peace and kindness and happiness and every other positive word I could think of. I never mentioned the word ‘religion’ of course, because the people who were silly enough to swallow my bait did not deserve to be told the truth, and in any case it was beyond their scope.

I never asked for membership fees; but I accepted donations. Because people appreciate my humility and my razor wit, and my wish to share what I have extracted from the Universe. I tell them that “of course” they can keep their old religion and believe in Mum, since she is a benign immortal, and not actually a deity.

It goes without saying that I had to make a couple of concessions to popular culture: I have included some buzz-words such as spiritual enlightenment, incidental infinity, higher consciousness, mystic wisdom, and more of that ilk. To counteract this, I also use jargon to re-name some common things.

Midway along my mission, however, I discovered that money (by this time I was rolling in it) was not really important – and therefore I continued relentlessly in my chosen path, mowing down everyone who tried to nit-pick my theories. After all, Mum is not a Spaghetti Monster; she is, well, Mum.

In a nutshell, my Faith now runs on Automatic Pilot. I have devised a computer programme that takes care of the correspondence of my faithful. Every so often, I make a scheduled ‘casual’ appearance at the supermarket, where I sign autographs and hand out amber necklaces. They come with a certificate of authenticity and exclusivity – because amber beads are not all he same colour, size, and shape and so no necklace is like any other.

The final part of my Plan is ready. I am now ready to venture abroad. I have set up an Educational Foundation that has absolutely no connection with the Faith, or with Mum, and it is being run by a couple of Cat’s-paws who report directly to me.

I am actively seeking a country wherein to advertise that I am looking for a large tract of land to open a kindergarten-to-university campus, based on Mum teachings. I do have a country in mind already as I write, but until I make the Connections and sign on the dotted line, I am not saying anything.

You can say I’m keeping Mum.


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