You might get annoyed at what lies ahead and I urge you to please not take any offense, as this is quite personal and probably isn't even really meant for people outside of my personal circle. If it does happen to leave an impact in unknown, likeminded souls; good, it might help somebody.
Some people need the bad, in order to feel like themselves, and I've begun to fear I might be one of those people. In response to this I will be trying to condense the negativity that has threatened to de-rail the blog at several times into this one huge post (now three), so I can figuratively and literally leave it behind me here, in case of future reference, or in case somebody might be interested.
After this post it'll be a slow climb back upward into positivity, I hope, but Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up into light.
The Road Of Faith
As a kid growing up in a christian household, having to go to church on a weekly basis and not much liking the congregated mass of people desperate to show their devotion; standing, singing, raising hands, forcing everyone else to join in though sheer eye-balling pressure and despite being very honest in my faith, I did not much like all the effort and being a very shy, uncertain and introverted kid, the public displays of worship smacked (true or not) of posing, of liars and deceivers.
 |
| It bears stating at this point that my native language is Dutch...I know, I'm sorry. Original copy presented here in its very well-read condition (read: falling apart). 'Groot Nieuws Bijbel' translation. |
Always pushed into bringing and reading my Bible, I began to do just that; I consistently, almost exclusively, began to read it in church, but to bury my face from the sight of the older churchgoers frowning at the kid sitting in the back when the proper form would be to stand up in front, raising your hands in the air and showing the Lord you were praising Him, shouting your devotion, singing songs of eternal love, asking forgiveness for all your horrible sins because you are not worthy you small sinful child nothing without his grace.
With humans at large generally of the opinion that more knowledge is always better, few people would feel the need to admonish the small boy reading in the ultimate book of wisdom and they would leave me be. Also, for myself, I figured I might as well learn something by reading and learning more in and of the Bible during this time of forced devotion, give or take about 2 hours on sunday morning.
As to the belief that more knowledge is always better; No, looking back over the years, it really is not...: ironically I can paraphrase the Bible here, via the rather amazingly good tv-show Vikings;
Ecclesiastes 1: 17-18 via the 1917 Tanakh translation (I think)
 |
| He that increases Knowledge, Increases Sorrow. |
"I have seen all the works that are done under the sun. And, behold, all is vanity and vexation of the spirit. I communed with mine own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to great estate. and I gave my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is vexation of the spirit. For in such wisdom is much grief, and he that increases knowledge, increases sorrow."
It is the cautionary tale of a man in torment because of his accumulation of knowledge.
That doesn't make its core truth any less true though. More knowledge, and it's a specific type of knowledge meant here of course, leads to a soul in turmoil. This isn't about knowing how to start a car or how to build a rocket capable of space-travel.
Anyway, when I opened my book, I almost always read the Old Testament.
The dark, the violent and very much the bloodiest part of the Bible, barring the unrestrained madness that is Revelations, of course.
Tales of a God of blood sacrifice and horrific plagues, apocalyptic floods and columns of fire, of a God so petty and so sadistic that he'd send 2 she-bears to tear apart 42 children because they dared call an old man "Baldie". Of ascendancy by fiery chariot, wild visions in the dessert and of a whole people getting preferential treatment by dint of simply being the first on this blessed, blighted earth.
Of a man spilling his seed on the sand rather than granting his late brother's wife children and of God murdering him for it, because he is a voyeur who likes a happy ending.
You know, the fucking horrific tales.
Now that I'm older I wish I could say that I was fascinated by these tales because I noticed the incongruity between the bloodthirst of the First Testament and the forgiving message of the New. But that'd be a lie: It was definitely the violence, the tales of war and forced marching in deserts and God's horrific supernatural interventions in the affairs of men. I've matured enough to appreciate the difference between the two, though.
Somewhere in the years of endless questioning why, the continuous heaping up of misplaced guilt and shame; I inevitably lost my faith. This did not come down to one moment, but it was rather the consequence of alot of things. Too many things to mention or to go into really. I'm not even sure when it happened.
We can never really know all the influences that led us to make a decision, or even assuming we are capable into making a decision that is not already determined based on every influence that we are made up out of. The decision of a puppet held up by a million strings of influence is not really a decision made by that puppet.
And you know what;
maybe I still believe and this is just a protest: A refusing to acknowledge, a refusal to give credence that a being so horrifically arbitrary could or even should have this much power over me. In that case, I suppose I would be one of the people thrown into the eternal pool of fire who even in their agony, knowing the truth, would still renounce him. Helplessly, endlessly, railing at the dealt injustice.
Today
As someone who grew up inside what is probably some subsect of protestantism, I once devoutly believed in a personal, caring and loving creator.
Of these days, I might believe that God has finally attained wisdom enough that he knows better than to take an actual hand in his creation. He lets us run rampant because nothing he does can alter the wild abandon that is humanity's urge for self-mutilation.
That or he is dead. Or he has taken his bags and left in utter frustration. leaving behind an aimless, warring humanity that is sat like a bloated leech on what was once a garden Paradise, but now a dying husk. Aimless, pointless, and utterly without redemption.
In the next part I talk about nihilism and the exact opposite of believing in God and where that leads me. Oh, joy.
Depression and Nihilism
With the loss of a man's faith, something necessarily has to come in its place. To keep the mind balanced lest it eats itself.
But to this day, I have not succeeded in giving meaning to my life without it.
Where once was my faith, there is now a bottomless hole, and it devours everything that is tossed in. Without divine meaning and purpose, death becomes the end, and since death is inevitable, nothing we do matter.
Without meaning I instead stand at the yawning hole of the abyss, unable to look away from its darkness. And with every distraction, capable of turning me away from its dark contemplation but a fleeting fancy, I am forever teetering on the edge.
As a pessimist by nature I usually see only the worst in things. And every worst thing leads to sorrow.
These days I mostly rationally choose to believe that nothing truly matters. There was never anything greater guiding us, there is no goal and no purpose; we lead an aimless and painful existence, and when we die, we simply end. Our brains halt and we stop functioning. We decompose and our bodies are reintegrated into the energy that is cycled throughout the living things of this world. There is no damnation and no exaltation because there is no design. And that in itself has become both excuse and goal.
Because of the above it might seem that the depression that comes and goes is entirely contingent on my relationship with my faith and upbringing. This is of course not true.
There are various factors, not all of which I'm able or willing to share.
But one major thing is that I'm a sensitive little fucker. A stray word, an odd look, a huff or a puff can unhinge me enough that my day is ruined. It becomes my mind's focus for the longest time. It makes me think and think and it's always in the direction of the worst.
I suppose I should call it 'Highly Sensitive' but labels have always been annoying to me. Nobody fits in anywhere perfectly, and when one is labeled it gives others the license to look at you one way while dismissing all of the other that you are.
So, one of the consequences of that is that I severely overthink things. Like a dog worrying at a bone I can't stop chewing at the images and sounds and my pessimism obliges by then immediately offering me the worst case thoughts and scenarios.
That way I risk slipping further into the self-defeating spiral of depression and when that happens the nihilism comes into play.
I seek reasons to stop caring, to make the thoughts diminish, and sometimes it is with nihilism that I take away their sting. 'Nothing matters' becomes the excuse. it becomes the balm and then in the bleakness it also becomes the goal. It is a trap and it gets me every time.
I know that as an individual I can't go through life thinking everything is useless. It leaves me uncommitted, uninvested and very much adrift.
But I can't help it and I can't look away. The serpent bites its own tail and the venom makes its jaws lock tight.
It's something that continuously saps my strength and something I keep struggling with every day. And as someone who can't talk to others easily and whose friendships dwindle with the passing of the years, It's hard to speak of these themes and these horrors. because no-one else is willing or is unable to truly understand or has in fact no need to address these things.
So, isolated, I try to shunt it aside and find an outlet somewhere else. Mostly, and most benignly, in fiction.
Meaning through stories
Games, tv-shows, movies, comics and above all, books.
Fiction is safe because for fiction to work, there needs to be a purpose, there needs to be meaning to the narrative.
And this meaning is almost always made clear to us. Willing investment is a prerequisite. And immersion takes care of the rest.
Things start to matter, because we're told that it matters. We follow the characters along and their views become our views. We follow along and ready ourselves for the coming of joy and heartache. But it's always at a safe remove. And these stories will never end if we don't want them to. Things cycle and purpose becomes ever renewed.
It is Heaven.
But it's a choice. and not everyone can commit to it.
I used to be able to commit to any kind of narrative. Until I started thinking about what I read. This is not an indictment of those books or the age at which I read them. It's rather more something like wistful regret. Of a time when I didn't continuously think. when I didn't seem to have this inability to switch off. When meaning didn't need to be found and I could just enjoy the story for its own sake.
Most likely this is just another rose-tinted lens through which I view the past. I likely always overthought things too much. But I'm digressing.
In fiction there is meaning, but there was once a time when there was also meaning in my life.
So I seek out works inspired by the tenets of my upbringing because they still resonate with me. Because they can not help but connect on a very deep and almost spiritual level.
I don't think I purposely seek out these stories to find a meaning to ascribe to the reality through which I move. But I can not deny that it is the stories that could possibly slot into my past upbringing and the world-view that came along with it, that have hit hardest with me.
When you label something, a guiding influence, that was and still remains important in your life, as a fiction, everything that is associated with it or that draws inspiration from it, becomes fair game.
That's why anything demonic is so interesting because it is only tangentially related. Because as it's not the center there can be no real need for purpose here and it becomes mostly just for fun. Mythological stuff and meta narratives are also a huge draw. They don't even have to be dark.
I'm digressing again.
The thing I'm talking about is stories with Christianity as its foremost understructure, (Here read Christian Doctrine, meaning; The Bible, this is not Protestantism or even Catholicism, I always identified just as a Christian, basing myself solely on the Bible.)
Some of the things that have been special:
-Clive Barker's Next Testament, which could give an explanation for the madness of the old Testament and the 2000 year gap where it seems God isn't active.
-The Third Testament by Xavier Dorison, proposing that things were supposed to go different and God might have abandoned his ideas of apocalypse.
-The Goddamned; The Old Testament viewed through an ultra-violent lens. Noah, the same. Exodus: Gods and Kings, with God as a lunatic child.
-Hellblazer, though it rambles on and broaches alot of topics, it's very good at times. Preacher, with its crap comic that has a great central idea and nothing else, but it did give rise to a potentially very good tv-show. Lucifer, which goes too fantastic sometimes but damn me (haha) if it isn't magnificent.
-Penny Dreadful ,which was cut way too short, with its introspective look on good and evil. With the main character; the beautiful and incredibly tormented Vanessa Ives forced to make a choice between God and the Devil, it was taken from us too soon.
-American Gods and Small Gods, with their very similar takes on power through belief. Though these books aren't really about Christianity and with especially American Gods taking the coward's road in not addressing Christianity in a world filled with active gods, they are centrally about power through belief.
-Vikings, in its inclusion of gods both old and new, and how the characters deal with this. I've already mentioned the quote above, and it gives a good insight on how deep the show can go. It's mostly up to the viewer though; not everything is shoved right in your face.
-Malazan, also not about Christianity per se, but it's got philosophizing on anything under the sun, including beliefs and gods and how they interact with the world of men. That and I have some ideas about the Crippled God himself.
And lastly, but first in meaning and importance.
-The Second Apocalypse, with its secret reactionary subversion to the themes and central tenets of the Bible.
There are of course a lot more narratives and types of narratives that have drawn my attention and that I have ended up loving. But this is only about those narratives that I'm drawn to because of their relation to my past faith and upbringing, though these are hardly the sole reasons why these books, comics and tv-shows are so good. Each has their own merits.
These stories will inevitably attract me because it is very much a primal thing, isn't it? As a person raised within the tenets of Christianity, draped and hung with chains and tethers of guilt and shame, sin and love, sacrifice and redemption and who, most of the time, has cast off his religious convictions and beliefs, to actually have been immersed inside all of that religious imagery and faith for half of my life, and devoutly believing it too... Regardless from what environment you're raised in and how far you end up from it; the things you were raised with as a child, never truly leave you.
No comments:
Post a Comment