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A Sit-Down with Father Logos
Serve Your Old Idea of God Some Strawberry Pie
I like toying with recipes, but yesterday, I went all out and created a recipe from thin air, going with a little bit of what’s worked for me before and a whole lot of undoing what I thought I knew. Most of the time, those recipes end up in disaster. This is where my baking starts looking like my art. At least with painting, I can let the thing sit in a closet then look at it later and say, “Oh, there was what I was up to! I just didn’t know it at the time!” Yeah, that’s the ticket.
I can’t do that with bakes because hiding them in a dark places ends up in mold (and I really don’t wanna make the apartment smell bad. Pam lives here, too, ya know. Poor Pam.)
So, with a present bake, I have to keep in mind the goodwill I was shooting for in the failed bakes and ride shotgun with that. It’s like the book I’m in the process of putting the finishing touches on. (Yeah, the book I said has been in finishing-touches stage for the last six months!) Perhaps it’s because the next step with this book (unlike the others I’ve written) isn’t self-publishing. I’m going to actively market it to potential publishers. And that aches me. I have this urge, like with baking, to get it the fuck out there. “People need to see this, Bethany!” I tell myself. And while self-publishing gives me the maximum payoff in terms of creative control and delivery, it doesn’t grant me access to a wide readership. Like it or not, traditional publishing houses operate with distributors, retailers, and much bigger marketing budgets than I can muster (as in zero dollars). Those little umphs make a big difference. The cash outlay they represent also means that traditional publishers stick with the tried-and-true and already-bestselling writers whose works deliver a profit.
So, I don’t know how long I’ll hold out trying to persuade a publishing house to take a gamble on this baby, my book. Just like I don’t know how a recipe from thin air will come out.
It’s like a strawberry pie from a baker whose never made a strawberry pie. I’m putting here a chapter from my book. The pie, though rough-and-ready looking (see pic below) eats tremendously well. Good enough to serve at a Sit-Down with Father Logos. I dunno. You be the judge.
They assume that, when you make a measurement of a particle, the outcome of that measurement is not, as most people would assume, the particle having a single, random value for that quantity.
Rather, they assume that is just the only information the particle is willing to divulge to you, but it keeps to itself a great deal more
which it can pass on despite being measured.
If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not, it will destroy you.
~The Gospel of Thomas 70
I realized “God” was not a magical being who was hiding from me, but one symbol of an experience of something deeper and more mysterious. I realized the “word” is not so much a book as the creative principles that gave birth to art, science and religion.
I realized every being I meet is like an angel from the “source.”
The sacred was not hiding far away in some hidden supernatural realm but was fully available in my ordinary moments whenever I was fully present.
Babs: Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Father Logos. I must say I’m surprised, but grateful, that you agreed to sit down with me.
FL: Of course. I’ve watched your development from the beginning.
Babs: The beginning? As in, “In the beginning was the word”?
FL: [laughs] You might say that, but I suppose it’s true.
Babs: Indeed, I’ve long wanted to talk with you, face to face, for I feel that, in so many ways, everything I’m writing proceeds from you … and yet …
FL: … you feel that betrays all you’ve done to this point?
FL: Hmm. You claim in these pages that you once were a sworn, yet flawed defender of everything I represent.
Babs: That’s the problem, isn’t it? You, after all I’ve been through, after all I’ve said and done, only re-present anything.
FL: Are you saying that I’m only another abstraction or metaphor? You know, for someone who says she’s steadfastly against unsubstantiated qualifiers like “only,” you use them quite a lot when it suits you.
Babs: Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, which is why I’ve wanted to talk to you since … um …
FL: … your transition?
Babs: Yeah. I’ve changed since we last talked.
FL: And you’re wondering whether I’ve changed?
Babs: Well, I don’t expect—
FL: The unchanging Word that came from the beginning, Who was there from before the beginning?
Babs: What does that even mean? How can you be “before” the beginning?
FL: I’m here, aren’t I?
Babs: Are you?
FL: Do you mean am I just another abstraction? That you can merely look to Papa Culture’s latest propaganda to read my provenance?
Babs: That’s just it. I want you to be something more, something deeper, that’s been there long before any propaganda. I know that my one-time fidelity to you couldn’t have been complete delusion because I’m here now, aren’t I?
FL: And so am I.
Babs: Stop playing with words!
FL: I am the Word.
Babs: Exactly! Isn’t there more to you?
FL: Look at me closely. Take your time. What do you see?
[I have to admit that, at first glance, I saw a bearded old-man/high-priest, scion of everything I’d left behind. Then the picture blurred. The beard faded out. I could’ve sworn I saw a woman’s eyes behind that visage. Then again, what are “a woman’s eyes?” How did I know or feel that they were “feminine”? What I did feel was that I was being played with.]
Babs: I don’t know—I see what I want to see. You were so much of what I strove to be. You were in the beginning with God, and you were God. They told me all things were made through you, and that in you was the life of all mankind. I believed your light shines in the darkness, and the darkness never overcomes it. Helluva promise, don’t you think?
FL: Well, that was what they said.
Babs: You mean that wasn’t you?
FL: What do you think?
Babs: You mean you were misrepresented?
FL: You’re the one who accuses me of being only a re-presentation. I think you’ve all along known it was a matter of he who shouts loudest. You have me here right now, though.
[I paused. There was something familiar in his tone, a smiling behind his eyes. Where was this interview going?]
Babs: Okay, okay. [I rubbed my brow.] Let’s get back to basics. You’re the Logos, the Word that supposedly informs all reality. The promise that all reality projects, like a hologram, the Truth that you are. Never mind whether there’s something or nothing. You are.
FL: Are you tired of living in my shadow?
Babs: Hell, yes! You cast a long one. But reality’s not a hologram beamed to us by you. You’re the illusion.
FL: Which is why I asked you to look at me. But I don’t think you did. Have you been all along in this book trying to broadcast your own hologram? When are you going to start dealing in what’s real?
FL: You heard me. You talk a good game, even when you preach that humankind’s only played a game for 3,500 years. Well, okay, the sky really is falling. At some point you’ve got to stop screaming that message and start catching clouds, ozone, and stars.
Babs: You’re making no sense. You’re supposed to be the Word, not flimflam.
FL: And you’re supposed to be writing a “true” account of how witches are poised to usher in a new complementarity. Christ! I’m even sounding like you. Did you ever get the idea that I’m whatever you want me to be and that you are suffering from a bad case of penis envy?
Babs: Oh, fuck you! That takes the cake. Didn’t you hear? I surrendered my schlong, bro!
FL: Well, you’ve finally said something true. I am your brother.
Babs: Huh? So, you are a dude and have been all along? A man’-splaining mouthpiece!
FL: If that’s how you’ve needed to see me. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been used that way. You yourself have called it “like” it is. I am something and not nothing. The question, however, has always been, “Am I only a tool in the hands of the one who rapes the well, or am I real—and if I am, what am I?”
Babs: What? No, no, no, no, NO! You’re not—you can’t be—magik! Y-you’re a bro! You’re everything I labored under for 50 years till I knew who I am!
[Did I see a tear in her—I mean, Father Logos’—eye?]
FL: You have labored, like a mother in birth. As all of us have. And we bear daughters, sons, and more, for all are needful.
Babs: Y-you—you’re a mother, a daughter, too?
FL: Just like you. I’m father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter. If I’m a word, I’m spoken by all the cosmos. You’ve done well to call her Sister and to also see that your brothers in existence can also be grateful. I was there at the beginning for there never has been a beginning but only a happening, in you.
Babs: I’m the happening?
FL: From the start. If you want to talk in holograms, perhaps your life right now is one of many holograms, for reality can’t help but speak out, and when the cosmos does speak me, people like you happen, right along with black holes and bosons. I am a word, but words don’t last. They have to be heard, received, nurtured, and grown. Who am I to say what they grow into? I’m a speaker, not a shaper.
Babs: B-but you—you’ve been used to hammer and warp everything to the will of power and accumulation.
FL: Yes, I’m used. And will you use me, too?
[I looked down. After all this writing, have I really missed that it was never man or woman, slave or free? Is all my labor merely myth and all my scrawlings another endless either/or?]
Babs: No. Even this interview would just be fodder. I suppose everyone has to try to write their book, their painting, their dish as best they can.
Then I looked up and saw they were no longer there. It was just me at my computer. And as I write this, I suppose I can say that all the chapters and pages here are only my take. My scrabbling together of what wit I have from what I’ve found in my life, this life, this turn of the wheel.
Can I live with that?
Well, I’m here aren’t I? Here’s your strawberry pie. I think Papa/Mama Logos nicked a slice.
Slice-Stealing Strawberry Pie
Prep Time: 1hr Cook Time: 35-40min Total Time: 1hr, 45min Difficulty: Medium Servings: Yield: 8-12 slices, depending on how hungry your local Logos is.
Lg mixing bowl
Scotch blade or knife, for cutting butter
Clingfilm or silicon storage bag
Med or Lg saucepan
Wooden spoon or silicon spatula, for stirring
Pyrex pie dish, deep, 9in (23-25cm) dia (1.5-2L vol)
Cooking spray or butter, for greasing Sm bowl
Parchment paper or silicon mat Lattice tool or knife (optional) Baking brush
Fork, for crimping (optional) Cooling rack
2-1⁄2C (300g) flour, all-purpose, plus more for rolling (stored in freezer the night before)
1⁄4C (50g) granulated (caster) sugar (again, store this in freezer overnight)
1⁄2t (2g) sea salt
1C/2 sticks (200g) unsalted butter, cold and diced into small cubes
1⁄2t lemon juice
2T / 1⁄8C (30ml) vodka
1t vanilla extract
3T(45ml) ice water
5C/40oz (1,150g) strawberries, fresh or frozen & thawed (I prefer frozen, as the flavor's more concentrated)
zest of 1⁄2 lemon
1⁄4C (30g) corn starch (cornflour)
1⁄2C packed (100g) brown sugar
2T / 1⁄4 stick (30g) butter, grated
pinch sea salt
1 lg egg, for egg wash
1T (15ml) cream, for egg wash
1⁄8C (25g) turbinado (Demerara) sugar
(It's critical to make sure pastry ingredients are as cold as possible and to refrigerate pastry before rolling it. Chilled's the word!)
1. Sift FROZEN flour, sugar, and salt into lg bowl, then hand whisk till combined.
2. With fingertips, work butter cubes into flour-sugar mixture, till whole shebang resembles fine breadcrumbs.
3. Combine lemon juice, vodka, and water into pouring cup.
4. With one hand, trickle in about half water-vodka mixture, while working it in with the other hand. If pastry mixture is too dry, add small additions of water-vodka mix till pastry starts clumping in your hands. (You may not need to use all the water.)
5a. Tip pastry dough onto floured workspace and lightly knead into a thick disc. Do NOT overwork, lest your shortcrust become surly, hard, and uncharitable to your palate.
5b. Wrap in clingfilm or silicon bag and rest in fridge at least 30min (overnight is even better).
6. While shortcrust pastry chills in fridge, combine, in saucepan over med heat, add filling ingredients and stir till cornstarch dissolves completely and mixture reaches 170°F (77°C), or just under a simmer. Set aside to cool or chill in fridge if assembling next day.
7. Remove chilled pastry from fridge and allow to warm up 3-5 min.
8a. Preheat oven to 425°F/220°C (450°F/230°C, High Altitude).
8b. Grease pie dish, and set aside.
8c. In sm bowl, whisk egg and cream for eggwash. Chill in fridge.
9. Divide pastry dough into a larger 2⁄3 section (for base) and a smaller 1⁄3 section (for lid or lattice). Set aside lid/lattice section.
10. On parchment paper or silicon mat, heavily floured, with floured rolling pin, roll base into 1⁄4-1⁄3in (6-8mm) thick disc, with a 1in (2.5cm) overlap beyond diameter size of pie dish.
11a. Curl rolled-out base around rolling pin and transfer to pie dish, tucking down to base, corners, and sides for a snug shell. (At this point, you can choose to blind bake the shell if you wish, but I haven't found it necessary, as the thickness of this shortcrust is fairly impermeable to the dreaded soggy bottom. If you don't want to blind bake but do want to safeguard against soggy-bummage, brush base and sides with your eggwash.)
11b. Chill shell in fridge while you make lid/lattice.
12. Again on parchment paper or silicon mat, heavily floured, with floured rolling pin, roll lid/lattice into 1⁄4-1⁄3in (6-8mm) thick disc, with 1⁄2in (1.25cm) overlap beyond diameter size of pie dish.
13. If making a simple lid, skip to Step 15a.
14. Cut lid with lattice tool and skip to Step 15a. OR
14a. Cut lid into lattice strips (width of strips is your preference, though wider ones are easier to fiddle with).
14b. Arrange rows of strips across the top of your pie in a crisscross or diagonal fashion, folding over every other strip halfway up and laying another strip of pastry across.
14c. As you go, unfold lain strips to then fold over new strips, and so on, till you complete lattice.
15a. Remove shell, filling, and eggwash from fridge.
15b. Tip filling into shell, evenly distributing it to a level.
15c. Brush rim of shell with eggwash.
15d. Use parchment paper/silicon mat to gently flip lid/lattice atop pie. If doing a lid, cut several steam holes and decorate with extra pastry pieces cut into shapes of your whimsy. If lattice, put finishing touches on lattice strips so they're nice and anal-retentively even (no judging here).
15e. Trim excess pastry from pie dish.
15f. Seal edge of lid/lattice onto rim by crimping with thumb and forefinger, or with fork.
15g. Brush lid/lattice with eggwash, then sprinkle with turbinado sugar.
16a. Bake for 20 min at 425°F/220°C (450°F/230°C, High Altitude).
16b. Tent pie rim with aluminum foil circle and reduce temp to 375°F/190°C (400°F/200°C, High Altitude), baking an additional 30-50 min, depending on how liquid-y filling is and when crust turns mystically golden-brown. (Filling should be bubbling, so a thermometer will read 210°F/100°C when ready to remove.)
17. Five min after removing from oven, cool on rack. Goes smashingly good with vanilla ice cream!
 “Quantum particles may be exchanging secret messages.” Medium, 15 Nov 2023.