. . . . and that's the story of Easter

So there I was pinned down in the bathtub. Naked. The four year old asking me if I thought Jehovah created the world. I’m blindly trying to balance my desire for my daughter to become a respectful open person with my desire to scream “Fuck no, and if you keep talking like that and you won’t get holidays anymore.”

I say there are lots of different things people believe, and that Jehovah is just one of them. I say that no one really knows the truth and that’s okay. That it’s just what we feel is right for us. I’ve been vague with the answers, but the questions keep coming, rapid fire.

I mumble something about Buddha and Jesus and then it goes kind of fuzzy. ‘Cause she asks me what I believe. I give the same answer I’ve given most everyone for the past 17 years. That I don’t know if there is a God. That I think humans used to be monkeys. That we learned and changed and became people over time.

She looks at me like I’m crazy and I realize that my beliefs are harder to explain than a cosmic puppet master. (Hey, you try to explain evolution to a four year old the next time you’re all naked.) That’s not the worst part though. The worst part is that I’m not sure that is what I believe anymore.

I don’t want to believe. I like swearing, and drinking too much, and dirty sex, and women, and I could never keep to the 10 commandments. Oh wait. I’m not going to be Mormon or Catholic. Well, regardless. . .

I’m really beginning to believe there is more to it. The idea of a cosmic plan is starting to make sense. Some people pull me to them like they are meant to be in my life, and I feel them even when they are gone. Like a web, a tug on them is a tug on me. I used to explain it as similar neurological firings intersecting across the airwaves, but now I’m not so sure.

Then there are people who are ‘old souls’. I’ve known children with more wisdom than should be possible. Makes me think about reincarnation. I’m starting to think about what I hope to have learned by the time I get to my next life. Not that I don’t plan on improving in this one, it’s just always in the back of my head.

My next life.

It could be escapism but I really don’t think so. I think it’s the beginning of faith.