The Search For God

The concept of the divine has been my obsession, yet I never believed in Gods. Growing up a Roman Catholic I was amused but not devout. In church I did not pray, just looked at the paintings in the ceiling. Spiritual was the odour of burning incense, holy the light that filtered through stained-glass windows, I abhorred confession and was embarrassed by communion.

Biblical stories I could not separate from myths or fairy tales, Jove and Jehova held equal status, clad in her white gown and blue mantle the Madonna could have been Cinderella… both Christ and Sisyphus were chastised for helping out the other fellow.

Because I did not feel, I neither feared nor loved the biblical boss. One day I walked for God with pebbles in my shoes, I experienced physical pain but nothing more… so I sat on the pebble ground under a chestnut tree, rays of sunshine flickered through the leaves, in the distance floated fluffy clouds … I flashed on a bloody Roman arena, early Christians and African lions facing each other... right there and then I knew religion was not for me, I just didn’t have it…