"I AM CERTAIN IN AN UNCERTAIN WORLD"
In order to avoid being misunderstood I have to mention first that I am not one of those people. I usually feel rather uncertain and reconsider everything when all around me people are saying I want this or that, I feel this way, I believe, I trust, I am… Some people seem so certain of one thing or another that they sometimes make me believe in that very same thing, if even for just one second. This sometimes scares me. I don’t really want to be deceived into having a certain opinion; I want my own opinions! How very selfish of me…
Charismatic people are powerful people and potentially dangerous people once they gain awareness of their power over others. ‘The gift of words’ is a wrong way of looking at the issue. Though not as poetic, ‘manipulation’ is a little more accurate term. I’m afraid of being manipulated.
Someone (I don’t remember who it was; maybe it was me all along, or one of those voices inside my head) said that the best kind of situation is when you are forced to do something you like. Of course! And if something goes wrong you can place the blame on whomever (but you still get your fun… good deal, eh?). On the other hand, I feel like I’m going through hell when I know I’m fighting a lost battle and that in the end I will be forced to do something I completely despise. Oh, but there is something which is so much more unbearable to me and that is the ‘awakening’, meaning that after the deed is done I suddenly realize that this was not at all what I really wanted. So who’s to blame now? Anyone! And everyone! The whole world! It’s a conspiracy! Or maybe it’s just me, or Alice (that one voice inside my head which is not really a voice because she never speaks, she just smiles knowingly at me or looks curious regarding my decisions). I guess in the end it’s mostly my fault. I should have been stronger, wiser, a better judge of character, a more confident person and I should have maybe paid more attention to myself and others.
It’s my curse. I ask too many damned questions.
Speaking of “damned”, I’m not a religious person. I grew up in a house which simply had almost nothing to do with religion; it was like air, no one denied its presence, they just never mentioned it. It was only twice a year that things turned into vibrant shades of red: Christmas and Easter. I now realize that even during that time (first to third grade approximately) when I said that I believed and recited my prayers at school and before every test I didn’t actually believe. I think it was more the fact that I liked the idea of believing in God and consequently imagined that I did. And why else? Because I was told that “we, Christians” believe and do this and that and say so and should do things this way and stay away from temptation of all kinds and praise God because we owe our existence to Him etc.
Manipulated into thinking I believe in God - Reason no. 1 for which my respect for the church has plummeted since then.
Gradually I came to realise something. I was a catholic and my teacher was an orthodox! Of course I knew there weren’t many differences (except, maybe, for the much more beautiful catholic churches, in my opinion), but this gave me reason to start seeing things from a slightly more detached perspective. My imagined faith was already losing substance. Then came the questions, those obvious gaps in what we were taught at school, about which they only said that “it is so because God wants it” or “you cannot question God’s will, he is more powerful and wiser than we are” and “You need to have faith in God”. Well, I couldn’t. They couldn’t possibly ask me to be blinded, to believe with all my heart in something which they claimed to be perfect, but which was oh-so-obviously not! My uncertainty about religion had suddenly turned into another kind of certainty. I did NOT believe in God! His Infernal Majesty could take his business elsewhere; I was not interested in Him any more than I was in a paper printed picture of Mona Lisa.
Looking back, that was a bit harsh of me. I was judging Him, in all his perfection, because of what some stupid, imperfect idiots that called themselves human beings did. Whatever was left of my faith, which had been so carefully demolished, was now laying somewhere in the darkness, shattered and scared as the last remnants were blown away by a ray of cursed blinding light.
I never thought of attempting to rebuild things after that. It simply did not interest me. Of course, I didn’t have anything against people who believed as long as they didn’t have anything against me not believing. Never again did I say that I believe in God, or that I don’t believe in God. I can’t even say I’m an Atheist, now can I?
What I can say now is that I actually envy people who believe in God and the Bible and whatever the Church says. It must be so comforting... For one, you are being guided, told what to do and how, and that makes things a little easier for the brain. Second, you can also find support in other believers, knowing you have something in common with them and that you are part of them, part of a group – a very large one.
Meanwhile, I, in my selfish denial, know that I must fight my demons alone. All freedom comes with a price, so I must fight my sometimes overactive imagination and set boundaries, decide what I consider right or wrong, seek answers to my own tormenting questions... slowly build my own sort faith in which to find comfort, with my own rules of conduct, my own opinions and no one else’s, my moral principles... all in all something in which I might seek assurance whenever I feel I need it most. It’s my sanity that’s at stake here. How long did it take humanity to build the basis of Christianity? Will I manage to do the same and assemble my own ideal belief? I don’t know.
I’m still fairly uncertain.
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