Sunday Morning Coming Down

I can't explain my faith. There aren't any words that would do it justice. And it is something so personal, so subjective, even if I could find the words, I still couldn't describe it to where anyone would understand. I can say, "I believe in angels" and I have, here in my blog, I'm sure. But that doesn't even touch the tip of the iceberg. I use those words because they are handy, and they seem to convey how I felt when I had a certain experience, or at least to symbolize the spirit of that experience. See? I'm already having problems with the words!

Okay, so I'll talk about other things instead. I have this faith, this personal belief that there is more to reality than what we can measure, see, touch, smell, taste, or any other empirical evidence, a belief not based on logic or reason. Yet I believe in certain indescribable things just as much as (sometimes more than) I believe there's a desk in front of me right now. It's as real to me as the air I breathe. If I have any doubts or questions, they are not concerning its existence, but rather my perceptions of, and relationship with, whatever it is. My personal faith is not open to debate. I believe. Simple as that. Likewise, I feel that everyone else's faith should be afforded the same respect. It's too personal to be discussed. So what if my faith doesn't jive with yours? That doesn't make it any less real to me. And honestly, there is nothing anyone can say that would change my mind about it. Oddly enough, I'm constantly changing my mind about it the more I learn and think about it anyway.