I suppose it's most in the forefront of my brain because of Easter, that day believers find the most cherished of days. Believers.
What is it like to believe? I liken this feeling of non-belief to the times when I am not feeling well. When I'm sick or in pain due to a flare-up, I find it hard to even imagine when I was well. How does it feel to be well? What was I like when I was well?
Or maybe it's like the dog feels when she's in the cone of shame. Her limited grasp of time and how it passes leaves her believing, as my friend Joanne put it once, that her life will be forever shackled to the cone. There is no other life but the cone.
That crisis of faith I mentioned awhile ago is apparently my cone. I am shackled to a life of no longer believing. That crisis of faith is my illness where I can't remember what being healthy was like. Worse, I think, my faith was an illness. I can't remember what it is like to not believe.
Maybe it's that, if I buy into all that I once bought into, I am condemned, so not believing means not being condemned for my past actions, my sins. Not believing means those I loved who have committed the same actions as me (or worse), who have had the same thoughts as me (or worse), will also not spend an eternity condemned.
Maybe my mind is telling me that it is better to believe there is nothing than to believe there is eternal condemnation.
Not very good thoughts on this eve of Easter. Were I a believer, I do believe I'd believe I'm headed to hell. In an Easter basket.