I have never considered myself religious. Although for a few years now, I have become somewhat spiritual. This began when I started to question the universe, existence, and why we are really here. You know, that old chestnut.
My family used to go to church when I was a lot younger, but that seemed to die out pretty quick. Maybe it didn’t speak to them. To be honest religion was kind of frightening to me when I was a child. I would question every single thing I did, fearing that the devil had me in his grasp. My imagination was too big for my own good when I was a kid.
How you are raised can determine a lot of your qualities in adulthood. When you are born there is a tiny empty basket with your name on it. Then people come and throw values and morals and ways of thinking into your basket. Television and the media add a bit here and there. Societal and social conditioning programmed into the squishy human shaped creature that you call you.
No wonder most people’s twenties are so shaky. They leave everything they’ve known, all their comforts, and have to learn what life is truly like for the other 75% of their existence. Try getting a bigger basket, and then add your own opinions and rules and learned behaviors. Is this something my mother would do? What would my best friend think?
Life will always be scary. Mysterious. Take a deep breath. Look up into the sky. Repeat after me: “Fuck it”. Look deep within for a while. What in that basket is truly, 100% yours? Rearrange it. Decorate it if you must. Don’t forget to be yourself. You could always just do what I did.
Burn the basket.