So last night R says to me on the phone that I have gone to a weird place with this and I'm not going to like her answers.
I would say that I went where I went (where we are) because I needed to hear her answers.
I want to hear her opinions.
That is the point to debate. Not to always agree or say what the other person wants to hear. But rather to open up the possibility of other ideas.
I've done enough mental masturbating on this and now I need to have some actual brain sex.

How could I expect any less when posing the questions to the person who shook my world to it's foundation and blew away all the naieve mystery in my life with one sentence?
It was several years ago. We were discussing the reading of tarot cards which R has always done and at least acted like there was something to it…
One sentence…from R…
“You don’t think I actually believe any of this do you?”

one of those rare moments you can hear a pin drop inside my generally cluttered mind.
“?” was all I could manage to think.

So now these years later I’m sitting here having recently realized the probability of the finality of mortality and how I’ve wasted most of my life waiting for things…some of which have arrived, some are yet to come and some were just pipe dreams and silly childish wishes.
There is an emptiness…a void inside me where the ‘faith’ used to be.
This is why we read. This is why we talk.
And you think I don’t want to hear what you have to say?