21/05/2017 § Leave a comment
Written around 2012
Church. It’s a loaded word which regardless of your religious beliefs usually invokes an instant emotional response.
How did you feel when I said it? When I hear the word church there’s a moment I become still like an animal that senses danger, I take a small sharp breath in and gather mental weapons and defences. There’s anger, and sadness, and respect, awe for the capacity of the human mind and worship for the idea of worship. I am obsessed with obsession.
A church is where you’re supposed to go to find peace. It’s where you’re supposed to go to have a revelation. It’s where you’re supposed to go to save your soul or have it saved by something else- depending on how lazy you are.
It’s a given, but I haven’t found any of these things and besides I don’t take givens I give new questions for taking. It’s why I used to argue with my teachers so much. It’s why I left the monastery when my questions received a music box repetition of ‘it’s tradition, it’s tradition’.
So take my questions because the things I write aren’t resolutions they are strings of ‘huhs?’ and ‘idunnos’. Because I have no fucking clue and neither do you and often I feel my mind is finite and if I don’t write, it will gain more and more pressure until gooey words trickle out my ears.
My heart is not as finite. On good days it is infinite but right now it is sick and can’t process the way it should. I need to heal it so please, take my questions, it’s a way of trying to heal:
What is my soul? How do I betray it? How do I get it back once betrayed? Someone give me holy water because I need to flush out my sickness. Someone call a doctor because I can’t identify why my heart is sick. I am breaking the ten commandments and practicing the seven deadly sins but I don’t see what I do as wrong. What if, you are drinking holy water from dirty cups, I am a dirty cup, constantly drinking myself with words. What if you are pumping water into already shrivelled cells. My cells are shrivelled.
I’ve seen people come back from such evil and sickness it’s a miracle they can still see the grass and the sky through goggles of blood. How do you know if you are beyond forgiveness and redemption? I’m not saying I’m not worthy of these things, I’m saying I’m not capable.