beauty of uncertainty.

“I like to start my notes to you as though we’re already in the middle of a conversation…”

A conversation I wish was in some hole-in-the-wall bar over pitchers of cheap beer and the tables pushed together. 

I’d trace the condensation on my glass as we exchanged stories.

I’d tell you all that I’m uncertain of.  Jamie would agree and go put quarters in the jukebox.  REM's Losing My Religion would start playing.  Mum of Six would chime in and say that the song was bloody amazing, followed by, "What the hell am I going to do with my life?"  Then, Rosa would secretly buy the mp3 for everyone because that’s just how she is.  As 26 placed an order for cheese sticks, Barb and her biker jacket would walk in, coconut water in hand, and say, “Sup, bitches?”  Meanwhile, a guy off in the corner would buy us a round and later join the conversation.  We’d find out afterward that it was Elliot.

I don't know what I enjoyed reading more - the comments on the religion post or the answers to your questions.  I just kept scrolling and scrolling, feeling very much like it was a conversation.  I sensed courage when I read words like agnostic and atheist.  And, maybe I am wrong to attribute courage to such admissions as I suppose it takes bravery to say you're a Christian, too, especially in the presence of atheists. I'm just speaking for myself, how I was raised, and the way I viewed atheists - the very word seemed synonymous with bad and evil, as though the god I believed in owned morality, goodness, and love. 

I don't really know when my faith began to evolve.  I remember questioning the existence of hell in my twenties, reading all I could by "emergent" Christian authors many believed to be heretical.  "You're on a slippery slope," some said, without having read any of these books.

From there, I began exploring atheism, almost subscribing, but never completely.   Unlike Christianity (or how I perceived it), the power was no longer nebulously in the hands of a God, but within me.  And, after living dependent and amidst control for so long, I found atheism, like Buddhism, so empowering - it was the complete opposite side of the spectrum.  And, it wasn't just the [dis] belief that I found empowering - it was the whole exploration, the questions that led me to more questions - like secret rooms I never knew existed.  It was the idea that there might be another way.  It was a way of getting my power back, and discovering the extent of my power, without any crutch.  And, I'm not saying that if you're a Christian, God is your crutch.  I'm just saying that for me, I almost needed to reject it altogether, let my house of cards fall, and rebuild.  

And, in this rebuilding I still find myself wanting to believe.  In something - whether it's karma or energy or a higher power or love and humanity.  And, just as one can't prove there is a god, one also cannot prove that there isn't.  I find this uncertainty - this mystery and wonder - fascinating.  And, maybe that is why I haven't fully subscribed to atheism - because it seems so...certain.  So defined. Much like the religion of my childhood.   

So, perhaps that makes me agnostic.
And now on my mom's prayer list.
I feel like I'm out of the closet.
But, I'm obviously not alone out here.   

Speaking of alone, the bar is getting sparse.  Charlie's mom had to go home to Charlie; Sue, Annie, and Bess were tired.  Lena jetted early as well when she learned the jukebox didn't have any Joni Mitchell.  I almost joined her as she had a brand new issue of The Sun waiting for her at home.   But, I knew Jessie, Colleen, and all of you were coming, so I stayed.  And, now here we are.   It's quite late...nearing last call, in fact.  But, I think there's time for one last song on the jukebox...I think Hazel has some quarters.  So, cheers.  cheers to the questions.  the mystery and the secret rooms.  cheers to this ongoing conversation.  

g'nite.

(we took cabs home, btw)