January 9, 2015:
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Good Faith.”
Describe a memory or encounter in which you considered your faith, religion, spirituality — or lack of — for the first time.
Hmm. I don’t know when I considered my “faith” for the first time. I remember always going to temple every year, twice a year, once for the anniversary of my grandpa’s death, and once during Lunar New Year. But then I realized that even though I went to temple, I literally had no idea about anything, and I couldn’t actually call myself a Buddhist. I called myself a pseudo-buddhist for a time (silly, I know), and then I called myself an agnostic. I remember in sophomore year of high school, we had to write in a journal, and I remember writing once that I kind of was jealous of people who had a religion because they had something to believe in consistently, and I didn’t. And I wanted something to rely on, you know? But when David died, so many people told me that he was in a better place, or that God had a reason for taking him early or whatever, yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t believe it. And I realized that if I couldn’t believe in such a faith when I needed it the most, when it would’ve brought me some sense of peace and comfort, that it just wasn’t right for me. So now I call myself atheist, and I feel pretty comfortable in that statement.