religion

The other night, I was engaged in a conversation with a bunch of theology majors from different colleges. Two of them were atheists of the most scientific kind, and the third was a devout christian, with a firm belief in something beyond what is proven.

I really don’t know much about any religion other than Catholicism, and I always used to have this fear of atheism because I believed it was terrifying to live my life with the idea that once it was over it was finished for good. That when I died, I would lay in the ground with my eyes closed, feeling more still than the wind on the day of a funeral. I was afraid to admit that one day I would no longer have the control of my limbs, I was afraid to admit that I would decompose and become the earth in a way that was more concrete and scientific instead of abstract and beautiful.

But the way that one person in the conversation put it was enough to question my thoughts.

“For me,” he said “for me, atheism means to live this life to the fullest. I think that religion causes people to spend too much time imagining what happens next, and they therefore get too caught up in acting a certain way, and they do not live up to their fullest potential. So I think it is better to live my life in this stage, without any idea about what could be beyond it.”

What a way to think! Really, it isn’t at all what I imagined atheism to be. Living this life to the fullest, with no ideas about the rich or empty possibilities of the great beyond.

But I do not think I can live my life this way. It’s a monumental idea to me, and I absolutely want to live life in the fullest way possible, and I firmly wish to do so in a way which only I believe is the best. I refuse to get caught up in the strains of acting a certain way for my religion.

But I don’t think I can let go of the idea of the great beyond. The truth is, I don’t know what’s out there. I don’t know how many gods look down on me, I don’t know what kind of image I’m made in, I don’t know anything about why nature acts the way it does. I don’t know if I can believe in anything specific, in a vengeful God, in a bunch of humanistic creatures that somehow have risen to enough power to keep me enthralled and obedient.

All i know is that every day the sun sinks to a certain level in the sky, and it bathes the buildings and the trees in a very specific shade of orange that makes my eyes feel so green they just might sink right into the grass. And even though this happens every single day of the year, I only look out the window on certain days. And all I know is that sometimes I can pick a leaf out of a tree  and stare at it for the longest time, trying to pick apart the pieces with my mind, to distinguish the difference between what flows through its veins and my own. And sometimes I cry like the rain. And sometimes i eat an ice cream cone in the summertime, and it hurts because the ice cream is cold on my teeth. But not always. Sometimes I hear a song that reminds me of my dad, and I smile at what he will say when I tell him. And it takes every bit of strength I have to remember that I can’t tell him, that when I am finally able to tell him things again, I might not remember to tell him about this song. Sometimes memories are more beautiful than painful. Sometimes it makes me smile to remember what it feels like to hold someone’s hand. But what really hurts is when I have to label the thought, when I have to put it back into my memory.

Sometimes I poison my body and sometimes i poison my mind. And I know it is all part of the game, but sometimes I just can’t believe that all the things to have faith in can be explained. Sometimes I like to close my eyes and watch elephants cross the African savannah, and when I open them, I have this brief feeling of happiness and solitude because I know that someday I won’t have to close my eyes anymore.

I want to feel warmth from a church. or a synagogue, or any place of worship, really I do. But I don’t think that will ever be me. I want to find peace in the grass and in the clouds and in the leaves of the trees, because somehow I know when I look around and see that there are a million other things that breathe, somehow I already feel in the blood rushing to my ears

that

there is something out there and I want to spend my entire life

in this go around

I want to spend my entire life

trying to find it.