A Letter To: Faith
“I only fear myself, the greatest threat in my own existence. I am the critique of my own creation.”
The doubt that’s been looming over is human. So is the fear.
Faith is what makes us sentient beings strong. To be burdened and to suffer are to live, and a safety net, a speck of faith when times are harder is what keeps us going. But what is faith to someone who believes in no God?
“What can’t be seen is to not be feared, I thought. I only fear myself, the greatest threat in my own existence. I am the critique of my own creation.”
But wouldn’t that be a foolish and arrogant thought?
Fate is cruel and not, and it exists to some. Fate is just in that way. The thought of fate being carved into the stonewall of life is terrifying. It feels like a divine judgment, chiseled into the grit of existence that mortals can’t ever touch. The dust is bitter, as it’s only sand after all, and resentment is inevitable when you taste it. But sand dust can form into something new — as the universe has so graciously set the nature of life as a cycle, thus nothing is ever a waste. And the force capable of doing it is faith. When doubt greets, fear cradles, lulling the doubtful self into a dark void that slowly destroys the living. To come and kneel with the hands in supplication is a luxury for some. Belief is an ever-giving gift that is a choice. The existence of divine beliefs and the lack of it for some is of balance, there’s nothing wrong with either. The only one separating it from right or wrong is the extremity of both sides. It is, again, just. So what is the equal measure of faith to someone who doesn’t believe in divine beliefs?
I choose to not raise my hands in supplication because I don’t believe in what I think is intangible. It is beyond my own existence, therefore I can not prove it. I could, but what would be the value of putting my faith in something I don’t believe in? It’s only unfair to devalue faith and those who believe in that way. What I know tangible is the sole fact that I’m sitting down writing this on a late Saturday afternoon or the fact that I do what I do because of the reasons behind the pursuits. My existence is a tangible matter, whether the reason of it is a byproduct of the universe or not, my ‘self’ is already here. The same goes for anything that’s ever lived. If I could only believe in the tangible, then I’ll put faith in this self. However, faith in oneself might not be as easy as it sounds.
Though I’ve only had a few years under my belt in the field of living (and barely making it into adulthood), I’d say when you lose faith in yourself, it’s beyond agonizing. Everything feels impossible in despair. I’ll be frank, it’s easier said than done, to get back up and carry on. Giving up is a luxury too because not everyone can afford to give up. And to build immediate resolve is after having walked through many pain. Resolve is a gift. Everyone’s resolve is different because perhaps, everyone is determined by different things. We’re all walking with different purposes, but our circumstances sometimes don’t allow this. Thus, some of us have to make-do. From my shallow observation, I’m not sure how my friends and people I look up to — some with religious belief and some with none at all — are doing this, but the one thing I know that’s tangible is their struggle and resolve. The sand dust may form into something entirely new, and it could keep on changing, but what matters is the fact that they form into something else, not blindly accepting what’s already carved on the stonewall of life.
It’s difficult to apply what’s being reflected here if I’m honest. Because when that doubt starts to loom, fear approaches and the realm of what fear does is unknown. Until someone asks, “who are you doing this for? How bad do you want it? Why does it matter to you? Are you willing to drag your bleeding feet to carry on?” And until faith ignites the sparks of resolve.
One could believe in nothingness, but the value of belief itself is priceless, no matter the how, the what, and the who, as long as that faith lives, enough to keep them walking, I suppose that’s what matters. Dragging the bleeding feet to carry on is what it takes to be human.