I keep wondering about how to find language to explore the dilemma that is my metaphysical, spiritual life. I can't believe. I don't believe. That I admitted some twenty-five years ago. And I still feel at peace with that recognition. I spent the first thirty-five years of my life dutifully trying to believe, to do the right thing. And at some point so much had shifted that I had to admit to myself that I couldn't. And wouldn't. And that has described my life. And I've been releaved, at peace with that admission.
But I remained fascinated by religion. By its good, bad, and ugly. By the hair that can divide the believer from the non-believer. I read a book recently that made me think for the first time about the term agnostic. A-gnostic. Not a gnostic. That describes me. Not a believer. But where does that leave me. Not an atheist either. Atheism seems like a belief. So stable. So satisfied. So right. So ready to stop and live right there in that place--perhaps a very narrow place. I find exploration, questioning what describes me. Not staying some place. Not being comfortable. The notion of belief assumes such a stable world, a stable place to stand. I haven't found that. Not really looking for that any more. What I want is a way to keep finding the string that starts to unravel. It's that quest that sustains me.