I

I hold the book in my hand. Throughout my life this book has been cherished as truth, as a collection of answers scripted by the creator I worship. Before now I have never questioned the words that stream across the thin pages in verses and chapters and books, condemning and edifying and strengthening my existence. I now choose to challenge this book, and all knowledge I hold dear to me, as a new mind is awakened within me.

I remember when this quest entered my mind, I recall it fervently; it was only two nights ago. The damp air of my father's basement was eerily comfortable as I sat in the computer chair, slowly spinning back and forth, my eyes completely unfocused, needlessly gazing ahead at the blur before me. Sweat lingered on my warm skin and slid down towards the ground. I had been exercising, see, and after I had finished I decided to sit in this chair. At that moment I was completely consumed in the salty musk of my beading sweat and my intense concentration on the thought that rushed throughout and around my young mind. The first question was born: How can one rely on one's own capacity when he or she has accepted mortality, which is his or her immutable condition, as a flawed state of existence? I have been taught, by a pious mother and surrounding community, and by the doctrine that I have been presented and come to enshrine, that man's natural state is one of primal urges that fight against the pure desires of the cultivated mind . The natural man is an enemy of joy. The pain that stems from permanently human characteristics such as hate, greed, and arrogance is inescapable . It stands as an emblem that shines through the dank complexity of mortality and warns one to never trust the human mind. Humans are fickle; our thoughts change as we morph and mature into the people we're busy becoming. How can one build a belief structure around our own findings? There is no security in the self when it sits atop something as defective as mankind.

Thus, people's belief in a higher power or powers are quite conceivable. Either this power is presented from birth or found through inquiry and honest search. The former scenario describes my situation quite well; I have been raised in a church and rigid set of beliefs, and urged all throughout my youth to inquire within the realms of the religion. Because I have yet to step across these realms there has been no honest search. But why would I be so arrogant to depend on the arm of flesh, my own mind, to discover the desired truth? And there, while sitting in that black computer chair and my slowly evaporating sweat, it dawned on me: there is nothing else. The human mind is fickle, and prone to mistake, but we are born with a body and a mind. Answers and Gods and truths of all kind are thrown at us by parents and friends and sidewalk preachers, but we enter this world with a body and a mind. Those who do not utilize what is given to find truth are those who will never breathe the sharp air of the morning or hear the stinging sound of the crying violin. Whether we accept the belief of the parent or the preacher or manufacture our own, a desperate, sincere pursuit is quintessential.

That is all I know. My belief before this crucial moment has been merely been borrowed from my mother, labeled as my own and blindly followed. What bound me to this foolish facade of an actualized individual? Was it laziness, indifference, or fear? Why is this the moment in which I choose to battle this? Is the hunt for truth a realistic one? To these questions I know no answers. I swivel in my chair and I know and believe one thing: regardless the terms or conditions or object of concern, one must always question.