Wednesday, March 09, 2011

The Sun

This is a repost because I needed this today, maybe so does someone else:

Did I ever tell you how I was stalked by Kabbalah peoples? Well, it was my own fault, I contacted them first.

OK, before you judge let me explain.
My father had just died. There was no reasoning in my world. I didn't believe in god, in fact if there was one, I despised him. I didn't want to hear "everything happens for a reason" or "god knows what he is doing" or any other ridiculous, thoughtless, obligatory shit. Oh... do babies die for a reason? Do children suffer every day for a reason?

That thinking just wasn't for me, and I wanted to strangle anyone who dare speak it to me. Including my Mom, the church goer, the god believer, the one who lost her own father was he was in his early 50s and she was 25, she of all people should have known better.
It could have been my denial and grief speaking, the fact that I myself wanted to die, the unbearable physical pain that wracked my body every day, the only escape was the shower where I would let it out, my cries silent, my body wet and crumpled not allowing anyone to see how truly fucked up I was.

So I searched not for answers per se, but for meaning. To life, to death, to ebb and flow, I am not sure, but I wanted there to be an answer. Even if I didn't like to hear it, I wanted to know and to grow from it.

I read.
Self help books, grieving books, books on Taoism, on life, on anything, searching. Kabbalah wasn't as prevalent as it is now, it wasn't yet cool to sport a red string but I researched it. It brought me comfort, it alluded to some answers. I contacted them to get more information. They called me every day for months, telling me about the books I would need and the prayer books, the materials, the string. To find my answer, it would have cost me hundreds, which I would have gladly paid, if I was sure. Every phone call they gave me, lead me away from them, they wanted my money, and maybe my soul.

Seven years later, I am older, not much wiser and I still don't have the answer I so desperately searched for, because it is not there.
Belief is what you need. Like my Mom, where belief is what gets her through the days, the people who believe in luck, or the person who believes their are spirits "guiding" them. Even the person who believes everything happens for a reason.
I believe there are good times and bad. Some people have more bad then good. Some people make the bad into good. I believe that people are not born bad, but made that way by other people, time and life.
I believe that bad things happen to good people and even assholes can get lucky sometimes. I believe it takes more then just money to make you happy. I believe in good friends, soul mates, that people need to take more responsibility with their lives and the lives of their neighbors.
I believe in goodness.
Is that faith? I have no idea, I just know what gets me through the day.

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