This is my first post. My first attempt to vent the tumultuous anger inside me, as I, along with all of you, am being hurled towards the inevitable unknown that is death. Travelling at the speed of time we blindly crawl around this spherical tomb, seeking various forms of pleasure to distract our little minds from wandering down the dark path of questioning life. And don't for a second think that I exclude myself from this company. We're all here, we're all lost, we're all sick, and we're all drowning in that which is, for the most part, unanswerable. Hence I, like many others, let myself fall limp into the lukewarm hands of faith. A faith which will never give me the satisfaction I desire. Some would label it a pessimistic approach to Christianity, some would probably call it optimistic agnosticism. Although I struggle to comprehend how faith is anything except a term to describe the act of blindly packaging up all of life's unknown questions into a nice little box and then claiming that the box itself is the answer. How can not knowing the answers really be the answer? And so the friction from this relentless cycle of questions ignites the emptiness inside of me once more. It burns cold in the dark abyss that is my soul. I find it hard to imagine that I am alone so I pose to you a question. Think of the one thing in this world that you love the most, and ask yourself this: If you found out for certain that this thing was just part of your imagination, how long would it take you to realise that it's real?

Imagine an old pickup truck hustling down a rural dirt road. You know that plume of dust kicked up at its rear? That's been my reality for the greater part of my life; a dust storm of chaos, confusion and primarily, delusion. I began chasing the dim tail lights of that noisy old truck as a naive young girl. In the beginning, I just followed because I had heard that was what you do and I am very much a rule-follower. I was convinced I had to chase it, catch it, stop it. I thought that big 'ol ball of dust was mine, all mine. My purpose in life was to defeat it. So I sped and I tried to outrun it. Other times I swerved, trying to get around it and landed myself upside down in a ditch. Some days it was boring and monotonous so I veered off the road, took a break and watched the dust settle a bit. Occasionally, I could see but not for too long because I was eager and ambitious. So I hopped on its tail once again determined to conquer it. Inevitably, I landed in the ditch damaged and broken unable to get up. So there I lay, resting. It was awkwardly comfortable. The dust settled a little and I realized that lying in the ditch was much more pleasing than chasing that unending dust storm. So I stayed and I sat. I watched, I listened, with abundant curiosity. I practiced over and over again. Deep down I knew there was another way. There had to be because chasing that dust cloud had just about killed me. After some time contemplating from the trench I noticed simple but wondrous things. The sun began to shine and I could see a little. There was more than that dirty screen I had stared at for so long. Graceful wildflowers surrounded me. Beauty embraced me. It was in the trees, in the ongoing prairies and the vast, vast sky. A bright, constant sun showed me the way. Birds chirped and I heard sounds of insects I couldn't even recognize. And occasionally it fell silent; absolutely silent. What an extraordinary sound. One I had never heard before. I call it peace. And then there was a cool breeze. It gently soothed my sweaty skin. I relaxed, fully relaxed. I noticed the smell of clean fresh air. The kind you inhale and it is sweet and pure. It clears all of the leftover debris from your airways and leaves you satisfied.