My Intellectual Biography

It was nine at night. I still hadn’t left my bedroom; there was no point. I had no where to be.

I figured I’d just watch Youtube videos for another five hours, pass out and then do it again. I needed to smoke before I did any of that.

I blew smoke out of my mouth. I liked smoking. Lately, it seemed like the only thing I liked to do.

I thought I had failed out of graduate school. The only girl I ever cared about wasn’t interested in me. I had no job, not even a lead. How could this be part of The Plan? What was I supposed to learn from all this? I wondered how God wanted me to react to this and why he was testing me.

I had wondered this before. Spiritual and religious people told me the same thing—love yourself and everything else will fall into place.

My search to love myself had led me to search for some “Capital T Truth.” I had read any book about new age spirituality I could find. At this point I had read either three or four. It doesn’t really matter.

The latest book described the story of some normal guy (like me!) who saw ascended high masters. They told him how churches had bastardized the message of Jesus of Nazareth. I was on board.

In the book, these spiritual beings showed up one day to help the author “facilitate the disappearance of the universe.” It embarrasses me to admit it, but I read it as non-fiction. I actually thought someday, they’ll visit me too.

Of the seemingly limitless number of video related to this new idea of spirituality, one outspoken black preacher told me and the 3,913 people who watched his video before me the universe reveals itself to you when you’re ready for it.

I felt ready. I told God I was ready.

I wanted to see (the masters, the characters in the book) Arten and Pursah. I wanted to believe and I needed to know.

I remember closing my eyes, feeling open to the possibility those characters would be waiting for me in my bedroom when I opened them. I counted.

One. Two. Three.

They weren’t.

I was open to the possibility they were waiting for me downstairs. I walked down the stairs for the first time that day. My adrenaline was racing. Even in the moment, I think I realized the significance of what I was doing.

Soon, I’d have all the evidence I’d ever need. Would everything I had read about spirituality in the last four years be confirmed?

I hoped.

There was no one downstairs. I was alone.

So does that mean God doesn’t exist? I don’t pretend to know.

But I will not going to waste one more second of my life thinking about it. I call myself a born again logician and I love myself for it.