Belief. The idea of religion has always been a concept I have struggled to fully grasp in its entirety. While I agree that spiritual experiences happen—the factual section of my brain doesn't compute the mysticism attributed to different religions and beliefs. If one believes in something long enough will it come to manifest after s/he passes away? In juxtaposition, is religion a lie humans concoct in order to promote morality, social hierarchy and other concepts, as well as alleviate the inherent fear that can be associated with death and the unknown?
What is belief? The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines it as, "1. An acceptance that a statement is true or that something exists. 2. trust faith or confidence in someone or something." My mother's side of the family are Irish Catholic, and so often throughout my childhood I was sent communion dolls and crosses on pink ribbon. Yet, my parents gave me the freedom of choice when it came to my own religious practice. Hinduism, Judaism, Buddhism, Christianity and Catholicism were all explained to me. As I grew, I felt the pressure to find my place amongst a religious system. Yet, while certain ideas fascinated me, such as reincarnation and miracles, no singular religion shared all of my beliefs or had all of the beliefs that I could fully commit myself to.
At a fairly young age I remember walking through a large stained glass door. Light illuminated the panes making them glow and sparkle turning the inanimate in to something vividly alive. I remember thinking Is this God?, because my mind was striving to make a connection between the place I was standing in and the brilliance of the phenomena in front of me. I desperately and emotionally needed something bigger than myself to be in attendance for the days proceedings. The grief inside the room was insurmountable. We were burying the man who put ketchup on scrambled eggs, the man who told a story about a pig who refused to jump over a stick, the man who was larger than life both in size and personality, the man who made everyone laugh, the man who melded into a family so seamlessly and won over everyone. A gentle giant had fallen and all the kingdom wept in sadness. He was my step-grandfather, but we just called him Papa Bob. The funeral was hard, because I was too young to fully grasp the concept of dying. The congregated people inside the church had faces that were twisted in sorrow, and in turn I felt a large peach pit forming in my stomach. Is this God ? The attendees were using phrases such as it was his time and he went to be with God. At the time I remember thinking how could God be, so cruel, so selfish to take him away; and then did God eat scrambled eggs with ketchup? For the first time, I questioned religion entirely.
