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    A Humanist’S Introduction to God
    A Humanist’S Introduction to God
    A Humanist’S Introduction to God
    Ebook163 pages1 hour

    A Humanist’S Introduction to God

    By Charles S. Whistler

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    About this ebook

    This book never was meant to be an introduction to god. It was a short story of good clean fun.
    In the beginning god the scientist was puttering, and invented life out of nothing. Imagine that. This might not seem like much to most people. But how many can say they have done as much?
    Soon another chapter bounced along. While skinny-dipping god invented death. It did prove necessary. Paradise had been getting flabby and mediocre, almost as if a greenhouse and a menagerie were the best god could come up with.
    Not necessarily next. All things, being in the present, did get a little jumbled. God invented sex. He was careful to keep the temperature down for us readers.
    A chapter on consciousness, about which he had a few doubts, Plants had survived for billions of years even though rooted in one place. That took real genius.
    And more, until god is handling eggs without breaking them, and driving leaves of grass through giant sequoia trees.
    And more. Perhaps an introduction is just the beginning.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateAug 23, 2011
    ISBN9781456761424
    A Humanist’S Introduction to God
    Author

    Charles S. Whistler

    Charles Whistler moved to Florida as a young man and, on his way, discovered Zen, haiku poetry, and aphorisms. These were his beginning tools as an author. Writing seriously, humorously, exaltedly, and divisively about God gave him reason to leave a small trail, but growing confidence and dedication to his craft has allowed him to produce volumes of work. Reading and writing steadily, he has revised, been work shopped, and judged by qualified judges. Obviously commercial and scholastic successes are the true standard and the only guarantee of relevance and worth, but credentials and reputation, finally, are for readers only to define. His philosophy can be summed up as follows: Inspiration is a leaf Erratic in drift But like the arctic tern That flies from pole to pole Ever vigilant without rest Inspiration must be sustained By direction and dedication

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      Book preview

      A Humanist’S Introduction to God - Charles S. Whistler

      © 2011 Charles S. Whistler. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      First published by AuthorHouse 8/19/2011

      ISBN: 978-1-4567-6142-4 (e)

      ISBN: 978-1-4567-6143-1 (sc)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2011906955

      Printed in the United States of America

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

      and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Also by Charles S. Whistler

      BEYOND CERTAINTY

      www.authorhouse.com

      or 888-280-7715

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      A Humanist’s Introduction to God

      PART I ICE CUBES AND MOCKINGBIRDS

      PART II CHECKERS AND TOMATOES

      PART III LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

      PART IV CHEESE SANDWICHES AND RIPPLING STORE WINDOWS

      PART V SWINGING DOORS

      PART VI GRASS IN THE GOLD STREETS OF HEAVEN

      PART VII RED-LETTER DAYS and GRANDMOTHER’S BUTTONS

      PART VIII THE CHICKEN OR THE EGG?

      DEDICATION

      With affection and appreciation

      To Sunday Morning Coffee

      Martha - Bob

      Catharine - Catherine

      Bea - Terre

      Anne - Romy

      Christine - Muriel

      Edith - Sally

      and RPN

      I will have to write another book

      PART I

      ICE CUBES AND MOCKINGBIRDS

      God, the scientist, was in chaos early on—

      Mixing, blending

      Honestly he called himself a putterer

      Creating stuff out of nothing—

      Doing what he did best—

      God was bending...time also

      As he did all the...time

      For you—

      In normal...times

      At this...time in the story

      There was only god—

      No hes or shes, hims and hers

      Only the god

      An it—

      From this nowhere at the beginning

      Of our story

      God is using our standard pronouns for himself

      As a convenience

      For the habits of our ears—

      Without us

      The story would have started thus:

      It? It told itself—

      That’s all there was—

      That’s all it was—

      Alone in chaos

      There was nothing else—

      Not even chaos it would have supposed—

      It?  Where did it come from?

      Chaos obviously

      Was the first differentiation—

      No masculine and feminine—

      No he, she, you, them—

      It hadn’t even thought far enough

      To be sure there was an I

      Certainly not a we—

      For us it would seem disrespectful—

      But disrespect from where?

      Maybe a capital letter It

      Would have remedied

      What didn’t exist to be remedied—

      No. Pretension or repute also had no place

      To its way of thinking—

      It would have to do it

      For all...time, or whatever

      Until something else

      Should come along—

      Now, back again to our ears

      Remembering

      God is always it—

      God is always neuter—

      All of a sudden he stumbled across something

      new—

      Miraculous how everything was always

      New new new—

      Stumbled isn’t exactly the right word

      Waded

      Kind of flapped his arms

      And kicked his feet—

      With a larger vocabulary he’d call it swimming—

      This newly created miracle inundated him—

      So much of it

      It was almost out of control

      Sort of like the stuff

      For the briefest...moment he called evil

      Until he decided it had no existence whatsoever—

      He didn’t need that in his...life—

      He was almost ready

      To cancel this new invention too—

      He hardly ever used his name in vain

      But lordy this stuff was really getting to him—

      It had a flair for disruption

      All runny and drippy

      And when he got it on himself

      Evaporation would make it even worse

      He felt fifty degrees cooler—

      Later he would establish

      Boiling and freezing points

      For this liquid—

      God predominately was a trial and error fellow

      So it didn’t surprise him

      That this enveloping, clinging invention

      Inadmitedly was slightly out of control—

      It waved and ran, washed over things

      Swelled over beacons, flasks, scales

      And what he might eventually call distilleries

      If he could give this thing called fire

      Working parameters—

      The surge continued to, not annoy

      Not god the imperturbable—

      It could beguile and tease

      And it made him react

      In ways he hadn’t yielded to

      In…eons—

      God loved nonsensical words—

      Wet—

      Yes, that word described it—

      Wet, and so much of it—

      It was running through a dozen dimensions

      Piling up

      And then sloshing everywhere

      Around his bachelor quarters—

      As far as he knew

      There was no other god he could socialize with—

      Silly putty—

      Close, but not quite right—

      He wondered anew

      How many things he rejected

      Before he even knew of them—

      What was it?

      The mystery of things—

      Like evil, he wondered

      If remnants of things remained—

      He had already invented elements

      So called, conveniently

      Because they couldn’t be broken apart

      Into simpler samples—

      But god knew better—

      He had taken two elements

      Two atoms of hydrogen—

      This was after his first choice helium

      Ditzy stuff that made his voice pip squeak

      In contrast to his normal rumbling tone

      Part of an image that suited his demeanor

      Most of the…time—

      And one atom of oxygen—

      God didn’t have to know

      What precipitated the runny stuff—

      As often as not these novelties merely happened—

      He admitted he was pushing himself

      To the edge of control—

      At…times he hardly sounded like the one

      Who should be in charge—

      There it was

      At the beginning of...time

      Something completely different

      Though there wasn’t much

      He could compare it to—

      Curiously, he was always at

      The beginning of...time

      Though there was nothing deja vu about it—

      Runny and wet

      And so much of it

      More and more

      Almost out of control—

      But god the great improviser

      Would get a handle on it—

      At least that was the story he’d tell

      After an unaccountable flood

      Or one and one—

      If the truth, what is truth, be known

      God would be the first

      To admit he was one odd duck—

      He was not in favor of the idea

      That he’d have to invent numbers

      Before long—

      Thinking all the…time—

      If he wasn’t careful

      He’d be called a know-it-all—

      In one respect people will be just like him—

      Every man will think he knows it all—

      God would have to put it in a container—

      He puzzled what kind—

      Except for chaos

      That he was thinking of calling his laboratory

      He lived a Spartan life—

      He had filled his...time

      With little of anything else—

      A container

      Of what size and shape?

      Novel ideas!

      He experimented—

      Cubes...like...boxes?

      Oblong, flat paneled things, easy to carry

      Like...shoeboxes?

      Long strings?  It was a theory—

      He molded together

      Some of his basic elements

      Land, air, and fire—

      Spongy?

      They coalesced pretty well

      But not reliably enough—

      Ah, if he pressed greater quantities of them together

      They would have density

      And draw floating objects to themselves—

      A force, a power

      He’d let the name coast for a while

      But gravity carried weight—

      And round—

      A sphere was nicely symmetrical—

      Being the economic fellow that he was

      He liked trim control—

      But this sphere, this ball

      Was so smooth—

      True, the water was controlled—

      A ball of water?

      The name

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