I have seeds, not answers.
There are some things I want to reflect on today. I could divide them into different posts, but the seed of each experience would probably repeat itself at different moments throughout time. To say what follows, I need to measure my words carefully, for even to me it feels confusing.
Perhaps, informally, I could say that I am not a religious person, which is true, since I do not follow the guidelines of any religion, at least not consciously. However, I wouldn’t dare to claim that I am not a spiritual person, because I believe that is something inherent to being human.
I must also say that it wasn’t until three months ago that I began to consider the idea of spiritual growth. I had gone through some difficult months and, in that uncertainty, in that sepulchral silence that brings no peace, I couldn’t avoid looking inward. Soon I found myself receptive to different sources of information, as if I had opened the doors to something I had once tried to flee from.
I am approaching this with curiosity. I am not looking to be convinced, nor am I seeking help; though, of course, it wouldn’t hurt. I have simply begun to experiment with different perspectives on spirituality.
My aunt, who is Christian, invited me this Sunday to go with her to church. As a child, I had attended this kind of service, but unfortunately I don’t retain any memory of it. For most of my life, I had only gone to Catholic masses on rare occasions, and all of my religious background comes from there. So you can imagine the impact I felt when they began to worship God with songs: clapping, singing, and dancing, with only brief pauses in which the pastor quoted a verse accompanied by a personal experience.
It was uncomfortable; it felt like going to karaoke without knowing any of the lyrics. Though, some of the things they said resonated with me. They spoke, broadly, about learning to let go, surrendering to the will of the Lord, respecting divine timing, not giving up in the face of adversity, and maintaining a mindset of progress because God always goes further. And I couldn’t help but translate those concepts into my own life.
Having faith in God, in the universe, however you wish to call it, is, at its core, having faith in oneself. If we see ourselves as the vessel of that source, whose only role is to be the hands of that Being, it becomes easier to connect with our own potential and abilities, because much of the doubt dissipates. If you’ve reached that place, if certain abilities are attributed to you and a duty or purpose is entrusted to you, it is for a reason.
In the service they quoted: “Those who sow with tears will reap with shouts of joy.” Years may pass, like the Israelites searching for the promised land, but obedience and perseverance always bring reward, and I believe in that.
So then, why is it so hard for me to pick up that paintbrush, begin that study session, send that résumé, or talk to that classmate? Because I think too much about myself. If all my strength relies solely on my singular identity, I am vulnerable. In the service they spoke about fixing our eyes on the kingdom of heaven, and that everything else would follow. To take Jesus as a guide on the right path. But even for those who are not religious, I believe that focusing on virtues can be almost equally beneficial. If we direct our lives according to the great virtues, such as goodness, we give them a meaning that empowers us.
In connection to this, yesterday I was thinking about my last post titled The Girl Who Painted the Heaven. And, one way or another, I came to the conclusion that I will not succeed as a writer, at least not by following this path of uncertainty, confusion, and growth. All of this will not draw attention, nor be considered useful, until I reach a certain goal. No one is interested in the journey if the ending is not defined, if they cannot see the promised fruits.
And so, I have no choice but to keep sowing. To keep questioning, sharing my meditations, being vulnerable, ignorant, even if no one is reading me. Because one day I will reap what belongs to me, whatever that may be.
The same goes for my university career and this job in embalming for which I am preparing. The forging of a person, like that of a sword, can only be achieved by passing through the fire several times. With hammer blows, like the ones I’ve endured, character is forged and our beliefs are tested.
Perhaps I haven’t learned much about lithic industry, or I’ve fallen short in my knowledge of medieval art history, but I’ve learned a thing or two about loneliness, empathy, loss, and resilience. Will I have to renew my enrollment and work twice as hard? Yes. But I know I won’t suffer as much as before, and that, no matter what happens, everything will be okay. I will lose money, but I have gained in every other way.
For some, this may sound like cheap self-pity, but at this moment I feel it as the path toward the happiness and peace I have longed for.