Life, the Universe and everything – have we really made up our mind? 42 was perfect…how did he (Douglas Adams) get there? No other number can evoke a nearly but not quite value – 42! It will be forever the number that isn’t quite it, for we still don’t know the question.
When I do meet someone with so forceful an argument or series of arguments to negate any possibility of a purpose on this Earth, you feel bludgeoned and verbally ‘bloodied’ afterwards. You realise they aren’t wanting a reasoned and level riposte. Words that attempt to scale their walls of defence are like a red rag to a bull and the frenzy of bashing escalates. I have learned with these people that no barrage of faith filled sense has a hope of demolishing their own faith filled reasoning. For to believe there isn’t a creator takes as much, if not more belief. That order and beauty could be derived from an explosion! One look at the pictures out of Aleppo or any war zone convince me that nothing with co-ordinated workings of such a complex nature could ever form from chaos.
We are a crucible where we have the choice to pick and mix whatever we choose to incorporate into our lives. For me, very early on, I wanted an answer to the pain I continually felt inside. I tried so hard to live as a product of all my experiences and choices but I seemed to go round and round reaching the same cul-de-sac that denied me real freedom within.
Amazingly this history had made me a kind, sensitive and gentle being who could always see both sides to any argument or conflict, and sought to be the oil between warring sides. This is not a comfortable place, for those you love can become those that wound you the deepest and sometimes I’m discarded by both parties.
We all have a default approach to life as seekers. It is our road to travel; to make sense of our experiences, to ponder and puzzle over enigmas in this experience, to try to reconcile our mistakes and continue on without allowing the damage to stop our travail. Often in my first twenty years I would tread an ever more familiar track that would lead me to the same conclusion, a bit like Bilbo and the dwarfs in Mirkwood, I’d been going round in circles and incredibly lost.
The place I ended up in was so dark I always turned to writing. Writing enabled me to express my darkest thoughts and shone a light on them. Every time I returned, I would recognise my wandered pathways as a labyrinth and my self-taught tutored steps were no help in escaping my tortured prison.
You see, secretly we blame Him, the reason for all our anguish and pain? The argument goes, ‘If He created us then he made me for the dark hole I always ended back in.’ How to acknowledge a god that resided over so much suffering? I never questioned like this but it is such a common stance and an impregnable wall is offered as we try to answer.
Did I want to know these things back when I was searching? I’m not sure. Perhaps I recognise these questions more clearly now to fill the deep answers of my soul. Back then I was introduced to one who lived out his belief in word and action, with a vitality that wasn’t apparent in anyone else I knew. I had looked hard but through his example I was introduced to an open door.
The message was very clear. The door is always open. Have I really gone through the door? Have I really met the Creator? I ask these questions sometimes. I am reassured that I know the way to the door; that I have come this way thousands of times before; and there is a certainty in my life everything through that door is good. Here I could launch into a thousand other blogs but I will leave this with the small piece of writing that follows, about my life’s journey. I would like to think that the old patterns are gone for good, however, I cannot deny they helped me form the ultimate question to life, the Universe and everything for myself – do I know Him?
Hmmmm! Maybe that’s not the question after all.
So it has come to this
Life choices in a framework so deeply entrenched that time after time, puzzling a way through, a dead end is reached. I find myself marching off to the beginning once more. And in this space, this dark harbour of my soul, I can write myself to freedom because I can see the pattern now.
It has been like tackling a logic problem when you don’t know the rules. Random approaches illicit responses that are completely wrong. Returning again and again I sit and ponder in that same space. You set off on another course only to meet the same fate.
But time and persistence, patience and fortitude are an incredible formula – the equation of break-through, because in pushing again the pieces fall into place. At my hand the answer to the problem, and yet the problem still in my hand. You have to work it through.
The answer: I have to face the one blamed for my history, the architect of my survival, the builder of my future.