The main difference between how I feel now and how I felt before, involves the loss of a conscious connection with what I’ll call God, as I have no other way to describe it. Guiding me, showing me, helping me in ways that felt so personal, it left me in no doubt this was what was happening.
I've never been a religious man, but I was really humbled by it nonetheless. The way things took place, how my life changed, how my thoughts expanded to include things I’d never thought before, the relationships that occurred, the people I loved, and those who loved me, all seemed laid out for me and I was simply experiencing them in perfect timing.
I can't say when this changed exactly. I just know I stopped experiencing it.
When I was a child I relied on my mother far more than I realised, and then, once she’d done her best for me, I had to step into the world and make my own way. Even though I wanted/needed to be my own person, I never really found him, so when this divine maternal presence appeared, it was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t alone. I wasn't doing it by myself anymore.
But every so often I’d lose this feeling and find myself involved in selfish things. Life slowly changed, to the point where I was no longer even sure whether any of it had been real.
So the difference between me and him could be the recognition of a delusional state. And yet, his life was so real. He had relationships and friendships and love. And my life is so far from that. Perhaps it wasn't he who was the one who was delusional.
A prisoner sometimes finds religion as a way of bringing meaning and support into his life. If I need to believe in order to belong, I don't know how to do it.
I’ve had the opportunity to speak with Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and Christians, finding many sincere and genuine people, while never quite being able to identify with any of them, at least not to the extent I’d need to. I could understand their connection, but could not join the club. The best I seem able to do now, from time to time anyway, is peer in through the window.
I've never been a religious man, but I was really humbled by it nonetheless. The way things took place, how my life changed, how my thoughts expanded to include things I’d never thought before, the relationships that occurred, the people I loved, and those who loved me, all seemed laid out for me and I was simply experiencing them in perfect timing.
I can't say when this changed exactly. I just know I stopped experiencing it.
When I was a child I relied on my mother far more than I realised, and then, once she’d done her best for me, I had to step into the world and make my own way. Even though I wanted/needed to be my own person, I never really found him, so when this divine maternal presence appeared, it was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t alone. I wasn't doing it by myself anymore.
But every so often I’d lose this feeling and find myself involved in selfish things. Life slowly changed, to the point where I was no longer even sure whether any of it had been real.
So the difference between me and him could be the recognition of a delusional state. And yet, his life was so real. He had relationships and friendships and love. And my life is so far from that. Perhaps it wasn't he who was the one who was delusional.
A prisoner sometimes finds religion as a way of bringing meaning and support into his life. If I need to believe in order to belong, I don't know how to do it.
I’ve had the opportunity to speak with Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and Christians, finding many sincere and genuine people, while never quite being able to identify with any of them, at least not to the extent I’d need to. I could understand their connection, but could not join the club. The best I seem able to do now, from time to time anyway, is peer in through the window.
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