in the name of zero

just my philosophy 104 paper…

There are some things I know that I don’t want. In fact, I don’t even know how long my list will be because I’m still making it. For instance, I’m entertaining fleeting thoughts of sleep and relaxation as I’m writing this, making me want to put my pen down an my photocopies for review away. The midterm will start in three days and here I am, being bogged down by an essay requirement which will, possibly, only earn me meager points at the most. But I’m not complaining. I don’t respond well to new stimuli. Especially those I cant put any logical sense in. Yet there are some days wherein thinking and questioning are chores and I simply submit to new thoughts without really knowing what I’m getting myself into. Also, and this requires special mention, the my mood is a pretty big determinant on how I’ll react.

I guess that’s how it is with my being a catholic. I am, at the very best, only a catholic by name. And my thoughts regarding things in my religion shift between conformity and personal defiance to the things expected of me to do. That goes with other people of other religious denominations as well. All these rigid rules and expectations because of a belief as unrealistic as a dream. At least I think it is. In prep school, I do good because I was afraid of hell. I was raised that way. Doing good for me was not a question of simply doing it because it was proper or anything. It was because I simply wanted to end up in heaven someday. No more, no less. Everyone was describing hell as fiery and filled with suffering. Eternal suffering. My simple mind could only comprehend the two extremes. And my simple plan? Well, just avoid doing the things my parents and other people deem as bad. In elementary, the word “bad” was stuck in my psyche as a word synonymous to spanking. I actually got a lot of that, so I regard myself as authoritative in the following statement; “You get what you deserve”. In my case, the wrath of my militaristic father. In God’s case, a question of his existence and everything else that comes along with it. But I really didn’t nurse thoughts similar to that for long. It was spiteful thinking as far as I was concerned. And the thought of hell still had a grip on my demeanor.

Anyway, as I was saying, Atheistic thoughts were almost a taboo during my younger years. High school was no different. I even found myself serving at mass a couple of times with my friends. For the duration of time that I did religious service, I felt a sense of pride. Serving at mass is reflective of one who is religious, and not many boys my age (in school) was into this stuff. I jumped at every opportunity to appear in mass wearing the traditional white vestments. It eventually led me to question, “Was I doing this out of genuine interest? Or simply because my friends are doing it too and I just want to be with them”. I was sold to the idea that serving in mass was a solemn usher that leads me to the presence of God. But my motives were in question.

Now, although it might seem to everyone to be both presumptuous and unwarrantable, I slowly began to shun some thoughts I once revered and dismissed them as things that hold back people’s potential. I had no reserved judgements whatsoever. Only made-up, maverick thoughts that I concoct as I go along with my life. I guess it had everything to do with how life turned out in college. I was living in low times. My attitude on life seems to be breaking up-transforming, while yet some inner urge is at work towards a more meaningful construction in my inner departments.

I’m willing to admit that majority of this self transformation and indoctrination was due to influences. Problems piled up one after the other, giving me grief. The only thing left more me to do was see things in reality as opposed to the idealism many people follow that brings them nowhere. God’s role is only to watch. He, who is in the best position to help can’t do anything for some reason. Though, I think I only succeeded in showing people how little comprehension I have. My personal crisis and issues led me to promote arrogant, ingrate thoughts in myself. The necessity of a general preparation to a wider and grander conception of humanity and how to live my life was more important and I hate the fact that the idea of God and some of his precepts are getting in the way. But I still go to mass on special occasions despite all. And I still asked for God’s grace at times. Maybe there is a God… Maybe there is a heaven. The answers eluded me. And I was not in a hurry to find out either.

At the risk of turning this into a fairy tale love story, I met a girl recently and I dare say, that she has been largely responsible for healing the mental vision I created for myself with regards to God. Where God was absent and invisible, I now see a glimpse of him in her. Where I felt disgusted and alone, the thought of her brings me renewed spirit ready for another round of bashing. I’ve never taken the statement “God works in mysterious ways” seriously. Maybe, just maybe, the God people seek is simply something that is synonymous with good according to their standards. Something which gives real joy and happiness to them. I could not answer questions about creation or the holy trinity, but I know for a fact that life has been very good ever since she came into my life. The impediments caused by the problems I experienced and satanist essays I’ve read are still present. Yet somehow, I feel that my spirit is slowly expanding to the proper manner. How is this possible you might ask? I don’t know the answer myself. But I have no doubt that the initiative to strive to be better in her eyes has taken root. And she’s the closest thing that resembles God in my life right now…

Now that I’ve answered questions on how my relationship with God fares, I find myself asking an even greater question, “If there is indeed a God who loves me, why should I try to avoid him”. Perhaps my attempt to hide from God is simply an inconceivable conceit stemming from intelligence and logic.

Oh well, I guess I’m getting ahead of myself.