I’ll probably be searching forever. Searching for the right beliefs to guide me. It’s likely I’ll never find that ultimate satisfaction, because I posses both the blessing and the curse of a questioning mind.
You see, to not believe in god is easy. You can’t prove a negative, so there’s no work to do. You can’t prove I don’t have a stack of Benjamin’s under my mattress. How about now? Did I mention that my personal heartfelt definition of “stack of Benjamin’s” includes mystery, order, goodness, love, and hate?
As I write this, my doubting mind has a set of ideas that I’ve put together through books and experiences, to form a personal philosophy. These ideas supplement, but are not a replacement for religion.
I’m not greedy or vain. I have love, black coffee, family, and flan, and that has to be enough. It’s everything to me and I’m cool with everything. It would be rude to ask the invisible for more.
The only thing I want to ask for forgiveness for is spotty memories. I like that; it forces me to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around.
I’d hate to think that the world is as fucked up as it is because some omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn’t bothered to help or is just testing us; but rather something we all may be able to work together to improve.
The one rule that could serve anyone in almost any situation is, “To see what must be fine and not do it, is a crime.” Pushed by this, I volunteer for unpleasant tasks or pick up a empty bottle from the floor.
“The difficult we do at once, the impossible takes a little longer”