Encyclopedia Intergalactica – The Second Coming of Zor

The following entry is taken from the Encyclopedia Intergalatica (10, 504th Edition; Encyclopedia Intergalatica Publishers, Inc.; Cygnus X-1 Star System; All Right Reserved).

The Second Coming of Zor
(see also Zor, Gor, The Holy Sponge, etc., etc., ad nauseum)

The Second Coming of Zor originates in the Sirius Star System (SSS), namely the extremely bright binary stars: Sirius A and B. Mistakenly thought of as merely stars for many millions of lightyears, tenacious scientists from Cephalon discovered that the stars were actually small planets whose inhabitants were afraid of the dark and simply left their lights on all the time.

For over 3,000 years, the Zor religion gained prominence first in the SSS, and then spread throughout the Peleidian Star System. In the early years, this was mostly due to the fact that Zorlet priests preferred to beat humanoids over the heads into submission with the mammoth Book of Jopat (volumes one through twenty). Zorism was by far the most popular of all religions, with the cult of Hithros, the eternally vengeful space hog, coming in a close second.

Zor was a prophet whom his followers believed to be the stepson of the supposed Great Creative Intelligence of the Universe, Gor. (Apparently, Gor wasn’t aware he’d divorced and remarried (or that he was a deity) and spent most of his time playing golf on the pleasure planet of Zed and its moons, Three Naughts; as an added editorial note, some Gor atheists contend that Zor was so annoyed with his followers for misconstruing everything he said, that he jumped aboard a spacecruiser to join his father for an eternal round of golf.)

Zor’s followers believed Gor and Zor were part of a divine trinity, the third component being a moldy Holy Sponge, averred to be Gor’s own personal bathtub sponge sent down to the world for all to be clean with. After several monks came down with dysentery, the practice of bathing with the Holy Sponge was expunged from the Book of Toth. For millennia, many Zorlet pilgrims made the arduous journey to the sponge in the Temple of Pfft in the desert of Buttz. Along the way, pilgrims were treated to views of various other relics in chapels set up along the trail, including a remarkable collection of Second Age prophets’ bellybutton lint and a lock of ear hair from an unknown, but supposedly quite shaggy, Zorlet avatar.

In the Sirius year of 4,242, fears of impending environmental, political, and economic collapse swept the world. Complete annihilation and disaster seemed inevitable. Zorlet leaders of The Intergalactic Church of Zor believed this (and the birth of an albino circus horse who turned algae into a really nasty Zarblefunk cocktail) to be portentous of the second coming of Zor, who would return to take his believers away and leave those behind to suffer fire, brimstone, and all the other insurmountable disasters and plagues that come from a loving deity who declares eternal damnation upon his creations because they didn’t believe he existed.

What follows is an interview with Jerlock Wellfelt, Zorlet head priest, on the then popular televiewer show, “Let’s Get Sirius”, minutes prior to the event that changed the course of Sirian history:

Tahmi Starfark: I’d like to welcome Jerlock Welfelt. It’s nice to have you here, sir.

Jerlock Wellfelt: Well, I won’t be here long, but thank you anyway.

TS: So the big guy’s really coming back?

JW: He’s coming to, and I quote: “to bear judgment upon all the worlds, and he shall issue forth from the sky, and rend open the clouds, light shall be sucketh out like that of a wormhole, and he will descend, riding on the impenetrable backs of the six giant star turtles of the apocalypse.”

TS: Are the turtles the reason it’s taken him so long to get back to Sirius? I mean, it’s been what – 3,000 years?

JW: Go ahead, make fun. We can take it.

TS: All I’m saying is that if Zor is the stepson of Gor, whom you believe created the universe from the gas and debris of a very long fart, why wouldn’t he return on a Baltharian XL Star Cruiser? I mean, it’s fast and it’s got a lot of style and panache.

JW: Zor was a humble acetic. That’s why we tell our followers to give all their possessions to the Intergalactic Church of Zor so we can support our ambassadorial initiatives. We renounce the material world.

TS: As can be seen by your diamond-encrusted cape and scythe. How big are the turtles?

JW: Biggest ones in the universe. Really scary lookin’ fellas, too.

TS: You know there’s an old story.

JW: And what’s that?

TS: A Teluthian guru says to a young monk, “Our planet rides on the back of a giant turtle.” The monk asks, “What’s under the turtle?” “Another turtle,” replies the guru. “And under that?” asks the monk. The guru smiles and says, “It’s turtles all the way down.” (Laughs) Before we get to the details of the imminent apocalypse, let’s take a step back. What are the tenets of your cult?

JW: First of all, it’s not a cult, it’s a religion.

TS: But it started out as a cult.

JW: If you call the coming together of three fish, a salesman, and a window dresser a cult, then sobeit.

TS: So are there a certain amount of followers a cult needs before it can graduate to the religion department, and speaking of fish, do animals parley into the equation?

JW: I believe the number to certify a religion is roughly ten million, but don’t quote me on that. As for animals, if they want to believe, then they’ll be saved, if not, they’ll burn with the lot of you.

TS: What’s the basic creed of your religion?

JW: Zor taught us to love each being in the universe and treat each other as we would like to be treated.

TS: Do you eat meat?

JW: Love it.

TS: And that’s how you’d like to be treated? Fattened up, butchered, roasted and served on a bed of greens?

JW: Don’t be ridiculous.

TS: So Zor’s coming back to destroy us because he loves us?

JW: He’s not destroying his followers, just everyone else.

TS: Is this why your church has been responsible for 97% of the wars in this star system, and also a few in the Peleidian system?

JW: I don’t know about those statitstics, but I do know that we’re fighting a war to spread the love of Zor, and beings can either accept it or not. If they don’t, when they die they go to the twelfth circle of Arnoz to live for eternity with Betty.

TS: Betty, the Star Harlot?

JW: You got it.

TS: Super, super. Great gal.

JW: We're all about love and respect for all living things, oh, and charity, yes, charity.

TS: Except for those who don’t think like you.

JW: I think I’ve had just about enough of this. Listen, Zor and Gor are in charge of everything – they’ve got it under control, that’s why we don’t really worry about anything. And what with the Holy Sponge, we’re free from worry and uncleanliness. It’s very liberating.

TS: Free from caring about the planet?

JW: In the fourth book of Bork, tenth verse, Gor states explicitly: “And ye shall rule and have dominion over the world.” So we can do what we want because Zor’s coming back anyway. If he wanted to save the world, he would, so who cares if it all goes to Arnoz?

TS: But some might interpret Gor’s words as meaning we must be stewards or caretakers, not reckless exploiters of the planet.

JW: You say nuclear, I say nucular.

TS: I think it’s time we wrap the proverbial stardust around this conversation, so I ask you, what's really going to happen when Zor returns? I think our audience would like to know.

JW: He calls up all his Zorlets to the sky and we ride to paradise on the backs of the star turtles where we live for two thousand years with new bodies…bodies with four arms and two heads, thus doubling the orchestral and choral bits of the heavenly band which will play and sing glory hallelujah for all eternity.

TS: And what about us down here?

JW: Oh, you perish at the hand of Betty, who’ll reign for two thousand years on Sirius. Then Zor comes back again and sets up his real paradise.

TS: Some people say they’ll be happy when –

[The sound of trumpets]

TS: I say, what’s that?

JW: Gor be praised! It’s –

Wellfelt never did get to finish his sentence, because directly after the last trumpet sounded, he disappeared and was taken up to the sky to the six giant star turtles of the apocalypse on which Zor was riding, along with the rest of his believers. The turtles turned and shot off in a blast of fire and smoke that lit up the sky.

Rather than being shocked by the disappearance of over three hundred million humanoids from Sirius and surrounding star systems, the beings who remained on the planets rejoiced and partied non-stop for the next year. The environment was healed due to concerted, global efforts unimpeded by Zorlet beliefs, wars ended, economies based on love and respect boomed, and everyone took a live and let live attitude and left each other pretty much alone. The Holy Sponge was placed on a star that went supernova, and the last bits of religious relics were fed to a Peleidian wombat. Nobody really questioned the “taking up” of the Zorlets because life was much better after they’d gone. Peace and beauty had returned to the worlds.

At the end of the two thousand years, Betty had never shown up and the planets continued to prosper. The humanoids had forgotten about the prophecy of the return of Zor to set up his new kingdom, and apparently, so had Zor. (He was winning his golf game with Gor by one stroke after a miraculous hole in one.)

Editor’s Note:
At the time of the Second Coming of Zor, then President of the Sirius Star Federation was on his deathbed. Before he expired, he supposedly imparted information about a covert deportation mission to his trusted aide, Randill Quark. The veracity of the following, which was preserved in Quark’s diary, can neither be proved or disproved. We leave that to the judgment of the reader:

As the president lay dying, he whispered into my ear that rather than have the Zorlets bring about the destruction of two star systems, and possibly many more, it was the Federation’s plan to banish them by fabricating the second coming of Zor and the “taking up” of his believers. Over the last century, a nanochip had been secretly placed into the Zorlets’ mystical energy drink, Zor-Aid. When the Federation was ready, the President summoned the turtle-shaped ships that government engineers had constructed for the imposed exodus. On top, rode a hologram of Zor jumping up and down and blowing on trumpets. The Federation scientists then activated the nanochip in the Zorlets’ brains, which de- and then re-materialized them onto the turtle ships. Thinking they were headed to paradise, they rejoiced as the ships took off into deep space and sang many hymns. However, I must include the president’s last words as a warning for future generations: “…had to get rid of them…better off…but beware…ships crashed on planet…close by…primitive world…feel bad for the monkeys…Zorlets’ll probably try to convert them, too...watch the skies....”

The Voice - Part 2

I didn’t used to pray and meditate so much, but over time I’ve found that it’s a good practice to connect me to the Source and my Self. It’s a quiet time to be in that space of mind and heart for even a brief moment. By simply acknowledging my life with its beauty and sadness, I learn to be more often in a state of thanksgiving and openness during the day so that I’m aware of possibilities. If I fill my mind with internal noise and ceaseless chatter, then how can I discern the voice that suggested seminary and the voice that gets me into the shower every morning?

When I’m feeling good, balanced, in the flow, inevitably there will be those moments when I yell and stomp my feet and all good intentions go out with the baby and the bath water. I try to give daily thanks for the peace and love I want to engender in my life and in those around me so that it will go out into the collective conscious and hopefully make a difference. It’s all well and good to say I pray and meditate to find balance, but I’m also human and know that life is frequently dirty and messy. I’m often impatient. I lose my temper from time to time over things that afterwards make me shake my head and laugh at my own foibles. I kick and spit, and that’s okay, too.

The true test for anyone seeking peace and balance in one’s life is the New York City transit system. For those who believe they’ve attained a sense of nirvana-like patience and presence in the Now of possibility, it’s the measuring stick by which all spiritual aspiration can and should be measured. I’d like to put the most spiritual person on earth down in depths of the metro and see how long it takes before they were cursing vehemently.

Last week I was tired, grumpy, and simply wanted to be home with a glass of wine on the back deck. I stood on the 96th Street platform where the local and express trains come together and go off on their rarely merry and timely ways. Delays on the 1 mean that the pile up of express train traveler transfers becomes almost overwhelming, if not overbearing. There’s a mesh-like tapestry of impending doom that falls down over the throngs of people who are thinking the same things as me: I am getting on the next train...no matter what.

I bit at my thumbnail and grumbled: Where’s the 1 train? Why’s it taking so long? Three express trains have shown up in five minutes, the platform keeps filling up with coughing straphangers, and the 1 train’s nowhere to be seen. The MTA does it on purpose. I know it. And they want to raise subway fares and cut service. Here it comes. Finally. There’s too many people on the platform. We’ll never all fit. I’m going to be on this train even if I have to push this little troll of a woman in front of me out of the way – cane or no cane.

At some other time, I might have seen the beauty of humanity on the platform and felt a sense of connection to all around me that would a smile on my face. Not then. My claws were out, ready to strike. I did get on that train, but was pushed up against a woman in nurse scrubs, her face beleaguered. I smiled because when you're smashed up against someone whose nose is close enough to smell the sweat in your armpits, it's really the only thing to do.

Nothing – painting, music, writing, crunching numbers, dressing in drag, or whatever it is that one does in a day – comes fully without practice. By creating a daily ritual, by saying that time be damned, I’m going to have five minutes to sit, meditate and pray, I’m connecting more to Life and its elegant flowing stream and my place in it. There are moments like the one on the subway platform when all my love and good intentions vacate the premises because of dreams of strangling the conductor. I often wrestle with the efficacy of prayer and meditation in my life, but the more I do it, the less I feel a struggle, and the less I have moments when I say, “Humanity…schmanity!”

Sometimes I feel a bit foolish sitting on the floor in lotus position giving thanks for a hedge of protection I want around myself as I leave the apartment and go out in the sometimes dangerous world of the city. Who am I talking to? I don’t have the answer and I’m okay with that most of the time. I do know that when I finish my prayer by giving thanks for another day to live, love, learn, laugh, and grow, I feel lighter. Yes, I’m light in the loafers already, but I’m talking about mental, physical, and spiritual lightness.

The point is we are all endowed with a mysterious gift called Life, and that no matter what we believe, it’s important to take time every day and simply acknowledge the beauty that in an ever-expanding universe, we are here, right now. We can either feel overwhelmed by it, or majestic. The time for personal prayer and meditation on my life becomes a daily moment in which I acknowledge all this. Simply doing that is miraculous and expansive. When I have moments in which I spit and curse, I can remind myself of the big picture of my life, and it takes my breath away.

For me it’s a constant practice, and the more I take the time to set my intentions for the day and give thanks for the things I want to manifest in my life, the more likely I am to be awake if that inspired voice comes again to tell me to call a friend, write a new story, or go for another degree – please, not a PhD! It’s like attaching a permanent cell phone to my head so that at any time, I’ll be there to accept the call.

On the last day of school, a teacher said to me, “You say you’re going to do something, and then you go do it. How?” Ego aside, I was touched by that. As the Rolling Stones sing, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try some time, you just might find…you get what you need.” I don’t get everything I want. I definitely ask and give thanks as if what I want has already happened, but if it doesn’t, then perhaps it’s not part of my path, or maybe I just haven’t given it enough time.

I looked at the teacher pensively and didn't answer right away. I thought about her question and my response was that if you want something, it all starts with intention, with saying it out loud so you know exactly what you desire in your life. The next step is holding onto the steadfast belief that it will happen. And the third, ironically after stating to hold onto the wish, is letting go of it, sending it out to the universe, and dwelling in a space of acceptance.

The Voice - Part 1

A year ago, I was on the subway and heard a voice inside me say, “Go to seminary.” It was the same voice that told me to become a teacher and embark on other adventures I never regretted. I looked around suspiciously and said, “Go away. I just got my master’s in education, I’m up to my gizzard in student loan payments, and there’s no way I’m going back to school.” The voice came two more times and that was that. My face flushed, I felt warm. From my solar plexus a vibration rose through and out the top of my head. I felt like crying. That’s when I decided to meditate on what I’d heard, but in my gut I knew I’d be going to seminary, it was just a matter of prayer, meditation, and accepting it. I’m start school in September, a trip that all began with that voice.

When a friend asked me what the voice was, I didn’t have an immediate answer except that it usually comes to me when I’m on the subway or in the bathroom. Truly. I have the most wonderful inspirations on a subway car or on the toilet. They are times when I feel most present.

“What did it sound like?” she asked. I told her it was more like a feeling to which words were attached. The voice is always there, but it’s just a matter of being in a state of grace and openness to hear it. Too often I’m thinking about countless things to do, my gears whirring. I forget to slow down, silence the tintinnabulations, and just listen.

Over the past year, I’ve done my best to pray/meditate every morning. To whom am I praying? I call it my Source. If I say God, I automatically think of a behemoth five-story tall (and just as wide) Orson Welles on a white throne casting judgments upon the swine of humanity. For me, when I say Source, I envision no gender or human identity on the force of Life that pulsates in all of us. It’s open-ended, but my intentions and thanks go out nonetheless.

As a kid I thought prayer was asking for things to happen: for people to be healed, for David, the kid who tormented me in grammar school, to get the pox, for me to receive an “A” on a science test. But as I’ve grown and learned, my prayers have nothing to do with supplication. They’ve evolved into gratitude for everything in my life – what has happened and what I want to happen; it’s giving thanks rather than asking for something. There is no good or bad, there is only what is, and for that I am thankful.

Prayer and meditation help me set personal intentions: spreading peace and love as much as I can in my daily relationships, getting a book published, paying the rent, walking out the door and not getting hit by a delivery guy in a chicken costume on a bike. (Fact: a few years ago, an old man on the Upper West side came out of a restaurant and was hit by a “Pickin’ Chicken” delivery boy on a bike. Killed instantly.)

In the bigger arena of life goals and dreams, prayer and meditation help me clarify and understand the work I need to do in order to create the life I want. Results sometimes come quickly. One time in Penn Station I was short on cash and wanted an egg sandwich. When I bought my train ticket from a vending machine, someone left behind one-fifty in the change receptacle, exactly what I needed for the sandwich. Some things manifest after months and years of tenacious focus and belief. And there are those dreams I want to come to fruition in my life that have yet to happen. Life sometimes lobs a magical moment to us like a flyball in which a desire comes true almost instantly, but for me, most goals require work and determination. It is with prayer that I set my intention, give thanks as if it has already happened, and then go after it with passion and faith and see what happens.

Are there days when I throw up my hands and say it’s all balderdash? Yes, but the next morning I reset my intentions and I’m back on track until my next doubtful intermission, something I need once in a while so that I can question and re-evaluate my beliefs and work. Doubt is inextricably connected to faith and has the potential to engender strength, and whereas the bully, David, never got the pox, the belief that it could happen made it good enough for an eight-year old.