Questions about existence and meaning have dogged my thoughts throughout my life. I was a Church of England convert, one of those they won off the council estate.
For me, Jesus was great and he saved better than Gordan Banks.
Gordan has recently died and I believe that a certain cruxification took place over two-thousand years ago. On top of this, I have a problem with major religions that almost always become subverted by their human translators into something that serves only themselves.
As a result, I have been spending the last years of my life not believing in anything spiritual. The sun rises and it sets. I get up and go to bed. I watch the world with a controlled resignation, knowing that whatever I have to say about it does not count.
Life goes on.
So why is it that I am beginning to feel that the world without the spiritual is one that lacks a little?
It’s like eating food without seasoning; I know that it is all so much nutrition, but where’s the flavour? Something is needed to ignite the senses, to titilate the taste-buds, to soothe the soul. Merely having the acceptance of the fact that small blocks of nutrition, unflavoured, will satisfy my needs is not really enough. It will do the job, but it won’t rock my ark.
And God, whatever god it is, is not really enough either. God needs to be a new experience, a thing that has been waited for, a new flavour, a taste and Ten Commandments punch of the new, the overlooked, the fussion of it all.
Or God can be as reliable as the sun also rising.
And the sun also setting.