Monday, December 14, 2009

The Seeds of My Dissent are Sowed!

I am created as an atheist and anarchist; it’s “god’s” will and my destiny.   I was fashioned in an existential crucible shaped by a society that prefers myth and superstition above truth and reason.

From my youth, I was indoctrinated with a vision of a socio-political and religious belief system that painted America as utopian.  Growing up, I was saturated by the media with the accepted affirmation on “truth, justice and the American way”, but my personal experience of reality did not jive with the belief system I was blithely asked to embrace.  This utopian vision, as defined by my church and the state, proved to be dystopian.  I struggled with the dichotomy between what I was taught to believe and what my experiences were telling me.   Where was I to find “truth”?

My story begins very early in my youth, when a soul wrenching incident occurred to me that shook the foundation of my entire belief system.  My father turned up dead while in the custody of the corrupt police in a suburb of Chicago, within mafia territory.  The police told our family one story; the local newspaper printed a conflicting story, and worst of all our parish priest, while speaking to the children, violated one of the ten commandments by lying about my father’s death (a big deal for a young initiate). 

None of the stories conformed to each other and all were at odds with the facts; the evidence pointed to the murder of my father at the hands of the police who claimed it was a suicide.  The truth was covered up by the police, along with the local paper and the mortuary where my father was interred.  When my uncles started asking the police for some answers to the inconsistencies in the story about their brother’s death, they where rounded up by the police and escorted, not just out of the city or county, but all the way to the Illinois/Kentucky state line. With continuing threats to my family, we where compelled to move out of town; the truth never came out. 

Thus, at the age of ten the very foundation of my belief system was disturbed before it had a chance to fully form.  Following the murder of my father I was faced with a mystery where the truth was obfuscated and difficult to discover. There was a tacit agreement between church and state to construct a truth that served their wishes, leaving me confused and without mooring. 

Following that experience, I found myself alone and adrift in a sea of confusion, grabbling with pressing existential questions about the meaning of life and the nature of truth.  I found myself set on a lonesome journey, adrift in a sea of confusion and apprehension, seeking existential truth.  I was left with no answers, only questions. 

As I pursued those questions the questions only proliferated.  I found myself caught in a maelstrom of contradictions and ambiguity. Would I ever be able to reconcile what I was taught to believe with what my experience was actually showing me? 

As I grew older, more incidents with the church and its insufficient answers further widened the chasm that originated with the earlier fracture of my faith.  The straw that broke the camels back was when I was told by a nun that my questions on the existence and nature of god could only be answered by god when I went to heaven; I lost interest in the teachings of the church.  

Adding to this incident is a whole series of unsatisfactory experiences with the church amounting to psychological torture, I found myself on a life long quest for truth or at least something in which I could have faith.  Not just something to believe in, not “blind faith”, but something that stood up to reason. 

Over time, I’ve come to understand there are no definitive answers defining an absolute truth, there is only the journey and the residual experiences that leave a sense of the truth, a common sense that embraces the riches of beliefs systems, while ultimately rejecting them all.  It seems truth is found in the seams!

A further assault on my faltering belief system occurred while pursuing the “American Dream” as a young adult.  Unlawful actions taken by government officials “under the color of law” obliterated my already sagging belief in government and the notion of the “rule of law”. 

I was engaged in a perfectly ordinary real estate partnership with two of my brothers to purchase distressed properties and save them from decay, but it turned out the county government had a hidden agenda on one of our properties.  In the process of pursuing their agenda the government officials engaged in activities that if done by the ordinary citizen would be criminal.  In its attempt to take property held by our family partnership, the state and local government violated our constitutional rights.  A protracted lawsuit against the government followed that lasted over a half a decade.    

This assault on my liberty and happiness was specious and insidious; the anger inside me from this egregious assault was so great as to bring me close to the line that separates anger at the few to condemnation of the whole; for the first time in my life I understood terrorist.  I felt rage and despair, but in my favor, I’ve always had hope.  But how deep is this reservoir of hope?  Could the well run dry?  I have an enduring sense of humor I inherited from my mother and this has served me will; I can laugh even as I cry.

As a result of these various transgressions by both church and state, I’ve completely lost the cozy feeling that once wrapped me in a blanket of security and comfort early in my youth.  There is no longer a warm fuzzy feeling inside me when I view symbols of the church or state.  My visceral reaction is disdain; I am compelled by distrust, to shun both authorities.  To the extent society as a whole has embraced the myths perpetrated by these institutions my trepidation is further confirmed. 

When the myth and the truth are in conflict, faith cannot survive without degenerating to blind faith.   Faith is based on trust, if you can no longer trust what is being offered as the truth then you are delusional if you continue to have faith.  Over the years, I have learned to keep my own council and find comfort in limbo.



Copyright © 2010 – 2012

No comments: