My child, today I am going to discuss religion since you have started asking questions.
I take her hand; she is strong, playful, curious. We find a large boulder near a brook and we sit. I pull her onto my lap, arms around her, but lightly, so that she can break free easily if she so wishes. Our eyes squint from the sparkling caused by the sun on the water. The boulder beneath us is comfortable and smelling of moss. Bird song and flap of wing play our ears. And then there is quiet, except for a tiny breeze touching leaves against one another and the sound of water moving over rock. I kiss her soft hair and begin.
“There are three things in life that we all must take in, what we must understand: proof, or truth; theory; and belief.
Now truth is a funny thing. It can be a certainty to all men and life, like physics, where a rock thrown travels at a certain speed and distance depending on what force we apply and what angle we release the rock -“
“And air resistance,” she interrupts in her little voice, her mouth clearly enunciating the word resistance as if it held some special meaning.
“And air resistance. Good. You are very sharp today.” I give her another kiss on the head.
“But truth can also be a personal thing. I have many truths and so do you. They help define us as separate and unique. Special. We all have them. And some of us even express our truths well. Like you, with your tree climbing and your smile and your drawing and the way you say re-sist-ance.
You truths come from all your experiences, all your play and thoughts you think and all the physical things that make you be able to run fast, or give you your hair color.”
“Like from mommy.”
“Yes, you have both of us in you, and a little from my parents and hers and their parents and on and on. Mommy’s and my puzzle pieces fit together. My DNA clicks together with her DNA and the genes express to make you.”
“Mommy has the baby machine.”
“Yes, that’s one reason why she, and all girls, are special. Most of them, with their bodies, can create a child who can create things — including another child. We men can only create things for the child to live in, to play with, to ride in.”
“Men are special, too.”
“Yes they are. But you will learn: men shape the world; women hold it together.”
I sense she has another question, feel her mind processing, but I guide her back. “That is a lesson for another day.
“So we have truths for all of us, and then we have individual truths. Now there is also something called theory. Theory is an idea we think might be true and we want to prove it somehow. It comes from a desire to know a cause from an effect. Like, if I think that more people on the street will look at a person with green hair than with brown, I take steps to put a person on the street with green hair, and then later one with brown, and sit back and look at what happens.”
“Green hair,” she giggles.
“Yes. Green hair. So here my theory can be proven or not. If my theory is proven, then it is a good theory and it has truth under the conditions I tested it. If it is not proven, then maybe I change the conditions, like trying the green-haired person in more than one city, or may all of them. If it still isn’t proven, then my theory has no truth under the conditions I tried.
Either way, it is either true, or it is not true. And it can be a truth for all, or just an individual truth.
Now there is one more thing called belief. Belief doesn’t require the desire to prove anything like a theory does. Religions are based on belief, and for those who invest themselves — give the direction of their lives — in that belief; they require no proof.
It is tied to individual truths, because one cannot believe in a god like Vishnu or the Father of Jesus, Jesus Himself, or Allah just because someone else tells you to. You have to have it in you, some experience that drives you toward investing in that belief, or you are simply going through the motions because everyone else is. And that is an empty existence for an individual.
I will teach you of other religions like Catholicism. I will have Amar tell you about Hinduism and Sy about Islam and others will tell you about Buddhism, and so on. You will go forth with knowledge, as that is the best way to know more things.
Not all people have to have religion to have happiness. There are many who don’t. They go through life finding happiness in simple things like the smile of a child, or the scent of a flower, or the hug from someone they love. They find a purpose in life doing things they love, expressing themselves through climbing mountains, or drawing, or singing, or helping people, or figuring out math problems. There are as many different purposes to life as there are individuals.
Some people spend all their lives looking for a purpose; some people try to give you one. Beware of those who try to give you one. Your purpose is your own, so is your discovery of it. Let no one try to tell you what it is.”
What’s purpose?” she asks, looking up at me.
“It’s your reason for living — why you do things.”
“What’s mine?”
“Just be who you are. It is found in your desire to express yourself,” I tap her on the chest. “You keep listening to what is in you and keep expressing the joy that is in there and you will find your purpose.”
She sighs and leans heavily against me. We watch the sunlight on the water and dragonflys skimming the surface and edge of the brook, green transparent wings shimmering. In the distance, a bird sings a high melody, pure and clean.
I lean in to her ear. “I love you,” and before she can reply, “and that is a purpose too.”
She holds my arms tight, thinking.
