Once upon a time, a Man walking in the desert finds Something flaming in a desert bush.
The Flame-Something is bright and oddly-colored, both hot and bracingly cold, not at all what he expected. He politely asks its name.
I WILL BE WHAT I WILL BE, says the Something.
The Man is confused, but he walks back to Egypt soon thereafter. Blood sludges through the rivers. A mother, wailing, drags the empty corpse-shell of her son to the bone cart. A weeping king lifts his hand in surrender.
After the People leave Egypt, the Man excitedly tells them about the Fiery Something. No one believes him.
They are, in fact, annoyed.
Someone wise — I’ve forgotten who — said that to profess yourself a Christian wasn’t so much a statement of belief as a commitment to struggle with a story. To let an angel smack you around a bit, fuck up your thigh, then disappear.
Still: the Buddha says, It is better to have one deep well than six shallow wells.***
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