There are times when I think that the strong need for answers for big questions such as “Where do we come from?”, “What is the purpose of life?” or more precise “What is the purpose of MY life?” is rather a disease than the mere product of a wandering mind. I mean, this happens when I find myself lost in the meanders of complicated formulas or grand schemes which my brain produces sometimes. And it happens a tad to often then I would like it to happen. Depression is not always far from the place but it does not explain entirely the feeling nor the reality.
I know many people, actually the majority of my acquaintances, who are relatively untouched by the virus. This is my impression at least, although I am aware that I cannot check it for real. I have come to the conclusion that, apart from the contribution of the (bad?) genes, the main culprit is hidden somewhere in the first part of my life. The formative years of the childhood are, it seems, too often blamed for what, or who, or how I am. One can be tempted to dismiss altogether any attempt of using Freud’s findings in trying to understand these things as simplifying the answer for the sake of an easy way out. Of course I shall not hope for an exhaustive answer to any ultimate question that life might throw at me, but at the same time to ignore the work of honest people (the scientists) who sacrificed their lives to find out as much as they could about one part or other of our lives, using reasonable tools, would be childish. So, while I understand the side-effects of my conservative religious upbringing, the distance in time and ideology I am at now makes me wonder if it is not a case either of chronic, stubborn “disease” or the sign of something else here.
Here I am now, the childhood, the environment both seem to have a part but id does not explain it entirely.
I have developed, because of this trait, an ever increasing interest in looking for the same signs in people I meet and who, for some reason, catch my attention. It looks like they started to form slowly a group, like a virtual brotherhood, to which I am becoming more and more attached. I do not have the skills to engage socially with people in flesh at a level this profound. I have never had them and I am afraid it is a little late or hard to change my personality now.
Instinctively I am building up my church where everyone I meet, and I can call brother, is welcomed even though he/she does not need to be always aware of it. I am new in the game so I need them for the training before I can decide that I am ready for the biggest, last battle of my life which is that for accepting my life as it is and go to the next level.
I’ll know I’m there because the symptoms of the illness will have been gone by then.