Of Religion

6.

I want to be a Mohammedan, so that I can meet a lot of women and be allowed to love them all. I want to be a Marxist, so as to remind myself that right now 73 million desperate kids are making the shoes and clothes we wear, all of us happy to have paid so little for them. I want to be a Buddhist, so as to learn to meditate and at last listen to the universe which has so often spoken to me in vain. I want to be a Basque, Celtic and pagan, so that I can dance and sing with the godPan, and talk to the gnomes and fairies and the sirens and to remain friends with the grand old rabbit - Harvey (the Pooka). Lastly, I want to be an epicurean, so I can really learn to love myself in such a way that when I have to be a Christian and love others as myself I won't make such a mess of things as so many Christians, not loving themeselves, have made.

7.

I prefer to be a humble Celtic Pagan than to be a presumptuous Christian.

8.

Resurrection: The ploughman sense the breath of the sower of seeds before him; the weaver at the loom spins the webs of time and a piece of his soul remains entangled in those threads. Violeta Parra, Louis Armstrong and Schubert no longer breathe, yet their music lives like the song of the unkwown singer, who created one of the countless tunes which are still sung in Ireland today, sung and danced, year after year, century after century, from voice to voice, from body to body.

9.

When I'm alone when I'm far from all churches, the boring claptrap of those clad in black and in white, from the mystic, the bigots and the knee-bending humbugs; when I can't hear the speechs and the arrogance, overbearing and presumption of all the believers, and far from all the privileged who have the faith and who proselytise, who want to convert; when I'm far from all the saints, the puritans, the chaste ones, the holy ones; when I'm in front of a flower, near a stream of spring water in Wicklow and when I hear the seagulls in Connemara and see the dolphins with the kids in Dingle, when the fairies and elves dance a Satanic reel with me in a pub and the little people sing a sweet sean nos melody, then I hear resounding in my heart the words "God Bless you".

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