I will tell you, if you must know, and yes you must because I am the Tr1v14l Spud that I am. Or merely I must tell you. One of those.
For long long spans of time, people have sought out the meaning of their lives. Most found nothing like whatever it was Morpheus was blabbing about except colored pills might have been involved. They aren't involved with me. Those people or the pills.
What is the meaning of mine? Well, it isn't in Catholicism or Christianity. Or wasn't. Or won't be. One of those.
I was struck from a very early age with the smell of bullshit in the water coming from the directions of my parents and well, we sharks, or kids, one of those, can smell bullshit in the water and we go for the kill. Mine being that I was no longer going to go on Sunday to do the knee-board calesthenics of the Catholic church we attended because well, I was really not hip to the whole trinity thing since Jesus himself liked to contradict the church's positions on him every chance he got.
It took a lot of years to get past literalism and find the plastic reality of existentialism without sliding down the slope to self-indulgent dadaism for the sake of attention and hellraising. Along the way I was startled, depressed, angry, sad, violent, virulent, and truculent unto myself by turns until I had traipsed through my life in all directions and lost all the footprints I'd left, most especially His when He carried me.
I've not come to any sort of peace with myself and yet have achieved total inner serenity. I've railed against my drive for complacency and stood steadfast against my desire for change for the fuck of it. I have united the opposites in a mutually canceling harmony and achieved the perfect sound of silence.
Of course, as soon as I did, He spoke up and said, "I thought you'd never pick up..."
So my religious posts are moving on to...