Thursday, June 15, 2006
My good friend described this as periods of deconstruction, and then reconstruction. Since our paths seem to be currently parallel, I think that I will borrow these words.
It all started with deconstruction. Everything that I believed was torn down, right to the foundation. This was necessary, though I'm not exactly sure why. Possibly because I was so tainted by the religion of my youth, maybe old ideas were holding me at a distance from God.
If I believe that there is a 'right' and a 'wrong' way to believe, then perhaps God has torn down the old so he can build up the 'right', but I suspect that's not how things work. Every time I think about this I wind up contradicting myself, and maybe that's why I've been reluctant to post lately. On the one hand I think that maybe this isn't about what I believe, but at the same time, I think that it matters. I think that there's truth out there somewhere.
So it matters what I believe, but if I get it wrong, it's okay. But lets face it, people have beliefs because they think they have a handle on some aspect of truth. If they didn't think something was true, they wouldn't believe it. Even the question of whether it matters what you believe implies that there is some sort of governing standard. The question of salvation requires a belief in that which cannot be verified, that is, an afterlife. Or a next life. Or a parallel dimension. Or an altered state of consciousness.
The options are endless and the questions are neverending. My ideas on spirituality have been completely deconstructed and now as I face the idea of rebuilding some sort of spirituality I'm faced with too many choices. The first choice is the most difficult and confusing, because it seems impossible to ask the first question without asking them all.
Is it best to remain in a state of deconstruction, or is building a belief system with which to process spirituality a necessity? That is, does it matter? If I choose to remain in a state of "any belief goes" then I affirm that there is no absolute truth. If I choose to make decisions about truth and reality then I run the risk of becoming an intolerant bastard.
But I do believe there is absolute truth. And I don't want to be a bastard. I think that there's a place in between, some sort of balancing act, a levitation if you will, where the search for truth is constant and the love of others is paramount. Maybe that state of suspension is the goal, the narrow path, the perilous balancing act above rocks and below sky.
Perhaps God has deconstructed my house so that I could move into a tent.
After all, how can one follow God when their home is immobile?