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The Nominous Experience

By Billy | October 2, 2011

Today I became a member of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. That’s right, I am a Pastafarian. I am at this very moment thinking of how I can answer the question, “Why do you have dreadlocks?” in a punny way to refer to this very special religious community.

Why did I change my faith from bouncing around from Taoism, Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism, and so on (ism) to Pastafarianism? Elvis.
Elvis Presley is the reason for this change in me. You know how? Because he is in the winter sky every night. He’s the most recognizable shape in the sky, with the exception of possibly the Big Dipper, which they call the Big Wagon here. What you might think is the constellation “Orion,” is actually “The King.” In my sect of Pastafarianism, we call him by his right and righteous name.

I am part of the mystical school of Pastafarianism. We’re the ones who simultaneously believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster (cheese be upon him) and know it’s a joke. A lot of people from within and without misinterpret this faith and think that all Pastafarians are attacking organized religion. This is not so. We in the mystic school know that, as we say in Austrian, it’s all “wurscht.” (This literally means it’s all sausage, by the way)

It is all sausage. Meatballs, if you will. You see, a sausage or a meatball is supposedly one coherent thing, but in reality it is a conglomeration of things that you really have no business wanting to know what it is. This is life. We like to pretend it’s cohesive and linear and graspable, but it is really, comepletely not. It’s wurscht. It’s sausage. The middle star in The Kings belt, which is where his belt buckle shaped like a bald eagle playing an electrig guitar rests, could have burned out tonight, and we wouldn’t know it for effectively ever, because we’ll be dead before we find out. Furthermore, places further away than us will continue to see The King’s middle belt-star after we’ve already learned it’s dead. The middle star in The King’s belt will NEVER be any less dead than it is now, because the same life that it has for us at this second is carried on behind us for infinity. No stars ever burn out because their light travels on for ever. No stars ever burn out because their light travels on forever.
That means every dead star is still alive. And we spend our whole lives worrying about passing away as if it were possible. We humans don’t know how to think, but we sure like to think we do. We’re just starlight, and we’re just infinity.
Wurscht. Sausage. You’re alive and you’re dead and you’re pretty much confused as all hell.

And that’s when the Flying Spaghetti Monster can step into your life and save you. You can reach out with your hands, and it can reach out with its Noodly Appendages, and you can embrace like never before. Pastafarianism is about realizing that we are all connected by his Noodly Appendages. In Hinduism this connection is due to Brahman. They have known about Brahman Noodles for ever. In Northern European Paganism it is the web of Wyrd, which is where we get the word weird. When something uncanny happens, it’s because the Noodly Appendages are at work and it’s weird (wyrd). Duh.

OK. So I’m tired and running out of gas, so I’m going to be frank with you. Did I join the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster tonight? Yes. When someone asks me my religion, will I say Pastafarianism? Yes. Am I taking this seriously? Yes. Why?
Because I like labels, but only when they confuse people more than they assure them. That, and I actually think the Church of the FSM may either be a perfect embodiment of Zen or American Buddhism in the way it pretty much disestablishes all rules and attachments to tradition, while preserving a sense of community which is skillful means for enlightenment, and it’s fun. Thinking of pasta puns are like koans. Seriously.

Also, if you’re not a religious scholar, this post is refering to something called the Mysterium Tremendum. Type those two words into Wikipedia and either roll your eyes or gently chuckle at the connection between nomming spaghetti and terror before the face of the universe.

Topics: Philosophy, This is my life | Comments Off on The Nominous Experience

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