Never once in my life was I a believer
How does it feel?
this post was submitted on 16 Feb 2024
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well I'm usually torn between my catholic upbringing, my personal paganist belief in a trickster god that created everything because they were bored and wanted to entertain themself, and finally atheistic existentialism.
I can't really say I have any of the catholic guilt many people usually feel mostly because I don't really give a shit and my own internal convictions of communist ideology give me the existential belief in my righteousness, in the catholic sense of that word.
How does that balance out with the fact that I'm also in a contradiction of religious apostacy and heresy? Fuck if I know, God can sort that out when I die.
Answering the question more directly, at least for me, it's a sort of wriggling feeling of being watched that you experience at the very corners of the mind when little coincidences occur that make you question the nature of the mundanity of life. The most recent one for me was when I was attending a funeral mass - also the first mass I've attended in over a decade - the biblical story of the day was about forgiveness of others as you wish to be forgiven yourself, and the priest decided to tell the story about patients at the local hospital who had been estranged from members of their family over conflicts that can occur in families. Paraphrased, the story goes that he counseled them to take the first step and reach out, even if they were the ones to cause the conflict or if they were afraid they would be ignored, saying that regardless of what happens they will at least have the comfort and closure of knowing they tried. In the end, two sisters who spent most of their lives ignoring each other could make up in their twilight years, a husband could tell his separated wife he was sorry for his mistakes, and a dying father could see his son in the first time in decades to spend those final moments in reflection. Considering my very personal circumstances that I won't discuss, such a particular and peculiarly specific series of coincidental events that pointedly needle at my rather deeply buried trauma, such a thing is disquieting enough to make me question things to say the least.