If you go into philosophy or religious studies thinking to find answers to questions of faith, of the divine, of those mysteries that have had so much power over human lives for at least as long as Homo sapiens has been around, you’re doomed to failure from the start. Fair warning: what you’ll find instead is several crises of faith, 2 AM bouts of drunkenness over existential why me‘s, and a hatred so deep for That Guy In Philosophy 101 that the Mariana Trench looks like a crack in the sidewalk. It got to the point that, for a long time, if it couldn’t be replicated in a scientific setting or be logically explained, I would roll my eyes at the religious sheeple who could chew on such bullshit.
And then, like Hume’s sun deciding to sleep in late one day, like the Average Kid who suddenly finds out he’s a wizard, everything changed. It occurred to me that if no one can accurately define what the divine is in any objective way, then how can it be concluded with any certainty that it doesn’t exist? And, well, why not believe?