Thoughts Illusions and Patterns of A Bohemian Gypsy

 Smashing heads,  and sweaty workout drills.  Twice a day. A full game played each day.  An entire season of sportsball, or football if that's what you like to call it, condensed into one week. (I was too curious. I just looked it up.)  They call it 'Man Camp' now. And I'm dead.  If that name doesn't adequately and succinctly describe the essence of this one week devoted to God, I don't know what does.  And that's where I was 16 years ago. Headed into my senior year. I was about to embark on my last year at the only school I had ever been to. Set within the walls of my church. I had spent my entire school life inside the walls of this building 7 days a week.  That't kindergarten to 11th grade. 12 years up to this point. And 7 days a week is no exaggeration.  Monday through Friday for school. Saturday all day winning souls to Jesus and inviting people to church. Twice on Sundays and Wednesday evenings for some good 'ole fashion preaching. And if you m

 I'm not entirely sure where to begin. If I am to tell the story of my exit from the cult, I would need to start with the turning point, the focal moment that sparked my leaving. If I am to tell the story of my belief structure and how religion's meaning changed for me, there are key realizations along the way.  I suppose it all starts with feelings of betrayal before I ever come to the realizations of knowledge. Hypocrisy within the church, a slow move towards learning how to think for myself. When I conceptualize the story in my mind, all the parts seem to work in tandem.  I can easily run in circles with my reasoning. Maybe this comes from the brainwashing when I was growing up. I was told what to believe and how to believe it, and all the information magically circled back to Jesus and the infallible word of the pastor. I never questioned anything, because there was no reason to. I was told the truth and that is what I was supposed to believe.  Looking back I can remember i

I've realized just how much I adopted other people's opinions as my own. Social issues played on my emotions and lured me in with a moral superiority.  I care about the world and the people in it. I care about fairness and whats truly right.  I couldn't tell you anything about what I believed though. I was banking on other people to be able to do that. The ones that had fed me this morally righteous information, they knew what they were talking about. Because it was the right thing to think. It was based on thinking of others and not myself.  It was a more inclusive view of the world.  It had to be right.  Then I had a brilliant thought. I need to be able to actually defend my belief. Otherwise, what good is the belief. And that's where I went wrong. I should never of taken responsibility for my thoughts and beliefs.  If I had just stayed dogmatic about my world view I would never have turned into Alice going down the rabbit hole, finding my way through Wonderland.  Onl

 What was I to believe?  What was true anymore? The only thing I understood upon realizing the insanity of the cult I was raised in, was that I was lied to. I didn't know what was right anymore. The only truth there was for me was the truth of my experience.  And now with my new found freedom I would experience everything I was told was wrong and sinful. And at that, religion no longer had meaning.  I was lost, even when I thought I was found. I was told Jesus was my savior but as far as i could tell, He was my prison.  I must brake free. I must see the truth.  Little did I know I had been immersed in a truth that was just bastardize by a long history of influential men, dead set on controlling the masses. Breaking free from the chains of this dogma, I was out to find my own truth. Find what was real, what was right.  Fast forward through the years of hell, beyond the horizon of darkness when I started to see a glimmer of light. I had only amassed questions upon questions. Why do a

  I don’t even know where to begin with this one. Growing up how I did was quite extreme. And for a while after I got out I still held on to the idea that Christianity and church was the ideal. But I slowly started to realize that all the religions were saying the same thing and had the same overarching stories. So what was I to make of this. Was there really one righteous religion above the rest? Were all the religions true? Were they all just made up stories?  I went from believing Jesus was the son of God, to believing that we are all Gods in our own right. I was more agnostic. I began accumulating knowledge and realizations that started bringing me back to Christianity. And maybe its more accurate to say, bringing me back to Christ just from a whole new and different perspective.  Where I once learned to hate religion and believed it all to be a made up story just to control people. I began realizing that all my thoughts about religion over the years were true. Even the thoughts

now that I sit and try to write there is nothing. There was something earlier. It was random, I felt energized, I felt almost wired in a way. I had this crazy sensation that I could pass out maybe if it got worse. I thought I was hungry plus it was coupled with seeing this beautiful woman. Hmm, why is it that it moves me. I was acting like a child, I had no decorum for the situation, I was fawning, I was pouncing, I was trying way to hard, I was taken off course of my focus for finding beauty in myself. Not to be conceded. but to find the confidence that holds that power of will and strength, and beauty and finesse, and intelligence and wit. What I saw in her was nothing more than an adoration of what I desire. So do people show us our deepest secrets too? Not only are they mirrors for what may hinder us, but they are focal points for what inspires us, what we wish to be. I saw poise and aesthetic beauty that took a breath away, an aura of grace and finesse that glowed beyond her