Let’s Talk About the Millennium Bug Instead

a cup of rich creamy looking coffee with swirls of spices on the top;
Sweet Nutmeg. Image captured by author, Ilis Trudie Palmer.

Death. Talk about death. What in the consternation! Why should I talk about death on this beautiful Sunday morning, me stirring nutmeg and allspice into my coffee; ready to sit down, enjoy sharing whatever topic was delivered to me, on which I was to add my two cents or in many cases, my zero cents.

Zero, empty, none, nonesense. Oh my. Those that bring ideas were having some fun with me. Nonsense, eh?

Writing on something that some see as morbid because it can never happen to them, is not the best topic for now. This could result in the two or ten persons who read my stories, finding pastures with life instead of talking about carbon and soil.

Death of organized religion. I almost fell off the chair. Death of whom?

Well, talking about that was worse than talking about literal death. I was not going there.

Please, let’s talk about something else. Something less sensitive to many. Why do we have to talk about sex last week and now death this week? What about some world event, that I can possible share my twist on? There must be a news item you can bring that we can make a topic of conversation.

There was no response. Just an iced tea silence.

After about ten minutes of sipping on coffee and waiting, I realized that I had lost this war, not the battle but this war on this Sunday.

This is not a war. We are not declaring war on organized religion. It has served its purpose and in some cases has done an excellent job. But in everything there is a death; a dying off period that, if the energy is correct, results in a rebirth.

So are you saying organized religion has served its time and should be granted a decent burial?

Only for those believing that there is something else, and looking for it, but afraid because of their religious circumstance. Most were born into a religion. It was all they knew — praise whomsoever and go to heaven; either to walk on streets of gold or for some fun with those promised virgins.

We are making light of this issue; as it ought to be.

People should be allowed to choose the how, when, where and why they connect. You are all born knowing there is some part of you that only feels complete when it merges with something outside yourself; something bigger and part of a bigger whole.

I should be the last one talking about organized religion and its demise.

The last time I attended church, not under duress, was at the turn of the millennia when all the talk was about the Y2K bug. It was a bug all right — that bug of fear that some take pleasure in biting us with.

All these things were supposed to happened when the clock rolled over; I swear civilization as we knew it, was to cease. Like a couple years ago, fear reigned. Those who profit off fear should be the richest persons around. It is perhaps the easiest thing to create, market and make a killing from — no pun intended.

So, what were we saying about organized religion?” I turned to them, with a raised brow.

We didn’t get a chance to say much. You did all the talking. It’s like you swallowed a parrot for dinner last night.

Ilis Trudie Palmer
One Love
☕☕☕ — Thank you for supporting my work.

Authors note:
I am doing much better than my last story series; This one, I am putting in chronological order from the onset.
Please find the previous stories in the link below; remember to share your thoughts. You are always welcomed to comment and/or share topics that you figure I might be good at spewing none-sense on.



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Ilis Trudie Palmer

Ilis Trudie Palmer

Energy, Creativity, Spirituality, the Great E.S.C; One dose of upfulness in each story or poem or song lyric.