The Meaning of Life

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Within me, there are several rich veins of lucid and vibrant joy, buried under what seems to be an immovable and dense layer of tired and cynical rock.

In a tiny corner of my psyche, I wrestle with one particular topic that intrigues me, and seems to promise some small kernel of satisfaction, were I to pursue it, with all gusto… And that is the topic of religion/spirituality.

Full disclosure: I have a wide range of experiences – at different points considering myself Catholic, Atheist, semi-Buddhist, Christian, and currently – openly and comprehensively Unsure.

I am extremely, EXTREMELY mistrustful of human nature intermixed within the context of organized religion… But I also am not going to automatically throw away a ‘God’ JUST because of the idiocy of those who may follow and worship that particular ‘God’.

I’m an inquisitive individual – and while I am content with the idea that days/weeks/months/years from now, I may have no more certainty than I do right now – I think the journey is important.

Quite plainly, it’s taken a long time for me to have the ability to pursue truth in an honest and open manner – which, for me, has required the development of “I don’t give a fuck about your approval” muscles. Some individuals I know flex these muscles as easily as breathing… but for me it’s be an odd journey of wanting the approval of father figures, embracing chaos, coming to love internal contradictions, calling ‘bullshit’ on external contradictions (as needed) and overall, learning to love myself, in the midst of whatever this ‘life’ is.

I’m the sensical turtle, and I’m here to learn.

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