Monday 27 March 2000

Pic of the day: The sky is always above us ...
(Archive photo.)

Event of the day: I was sleeping till 8 (partly thanks to the Daylight Savings Time that robbed one hour yesterday, I guess) and then I woke up from my left leg cramping. And what a spectacular cramp that was! The muscles contracted without the faintest hesitation or doubt, and did not stop till they had spent every molecule of ATP in their cells. Or so it felt, and I think it must be pretty close to the truth. It was quite painful.

I woke up with a start writhing with pain. 'Oh God don't let me die' I thought. "Don't panic" replied God, or whoever. "It's another leg cramp." 'Only worse' thought I, but that may be wrong. It may be that it was just as bad the three or four times I have had it before in my adult life. Once in my right leg and twice or thrice in my left, where I got it now. From previous cases, I remembered that the muscles were hurting, stiff and sore for two days afterwards, then gradually returned to normal. This time I set out to stop that if possible. I got out of bed as fast as I could and still put on a minimum of clothes, then limped to the kitchen and found a glass of water and 1/4 dose of Dispril (acetyl-salicylic acid that is bound to some stuff to make it easily solvable in water and reduce the risk of irritation to the stomach lining). As you may know, an underdose of acetyl-salicylic acid can reduce soreness and stiffness in muscles if you take it after training. Don't forget to stretch your muscles, though. Now, this wasn't exactly training, but the muscles had certainly been used hard enough.

I'm not sure about the effect. I still cannot walk normally on the leg, but now in the evening I can touch the ground lightly while limping on the good leg, so I guess it could have been worse. There was no chance of me doing anything meaningful at work, even if I had taken a taxi there. I don't have that kind of work where I can just sit there for 7.6 hours. And even getting there in the first place would have been pretty painful. If I don't stiffen up tonight, I want to try tomorrow. But judging from experience, that is a mighty big "if". I'll try to project a positive expectation, though.

I reflected on the fact that I immediately think of God when something happens. I understand that this is quite common, even among those who aren't exactly monks. I haven't witnessed this myself, but I hear that many people of little or no religious persuasion cry out to God (or a god) during intense pain or pleasure ... when things seem too immense for the human mind to absorb.

In times gone by, it used to be that most people believed in a God. Though I guess it was mostly theoretical, then as now. Certainly it seems from history that people were reluctant to adhere closely to the law of their God, unless someone else was watching them. But even so, the idea of a God or Gods seems to be so widespread among humans that it might well be an instinct. Or it could be that our species is so young that the ur-religion of the first human has never quite left us. (Not that I believe that.)

More strangely, the attribute repeatedly assigned to the supreme deity is altitude. Judaism and its descendants are not alone in worshipping a God who is in Heaven. That is, in the sky. "Heaven" sounds more spiritual, but it originally meant "sky". In other languages, such as my own, the same word is used. We actually pray "Our Father, who are in the sky". No wonder atheists deride us for believing in a lie: Unless we worship the sun or the moon or the stars, or perhaps clouds, then any fool can see that the sky is empty, it's just thin air. So how came this phrase into our faiths in the first place?

On a related note, one of the most famous pieces of pagan Norse literature is Hávamál (where the letter á was pronounced like a long a). The name of these morality teachings, which are said to come from Odin, means "voice of the High One". Intriguingly, one of the best known and deeply revered pieces of Hindu literature is Bhagavadgita, which means "song of the High One" ... Bhagavan is a name for God in Sanskrit. Also several African religions had a sky-god as the supreme (but often remote) God, and the Finnish name for God (Jumala) is thought to refer to a deity of the sky.

Does this mean that the gods were astronauts from other planets, like Erich von Däniken and his friends claim? Or is is simply a residue from a time when our ancestors were sun-worshippers? (The first known monotheist religion was sun worship, in Egypt. It only lasted for one generation, though.) I have yet a few more explanations. The more obvious is that when we are children, our parents tower over us. The worship of a "high God" places us back in the role of babies. (See also statements from Jesus the Nazarene about the need to be like a baby to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.)

Another explanation that directly refers to the "sky" thing is that the sky is everywhere, and so is God. The sea has its limits, and so has the ground: The two exclude each other. Forests have their edge, and mountains alternate with plains. But wherever you go, the sky is always above you. The sun goes down and the moon comes up; clouds come and go, and the stars pale at dawn. But the sky is always there, as it was on the day you were born, as it will be on the day you die. And so is God.

I guess I could have said "Amen" there ... it may have sounded a bit preachy. I just tried to explain why we talk about a God who is in the sky, that it need not be that we imagine an old man sitting in a chair atop the blue crystal bowl over us. Words are poor tools many a time, and not least when it comes to the spiritual. I ask you to take this in the friendly way it was meant. I know that some of you have suffered at the hands (more or less literally) of religious people and have reason to recoil from all mention of gods and heavens. My apologies to you. As you understand, my experience is very different, and this is my life, such as it is.