I can barely remember what my first thoughts were when I listened to Passenger's cover 'Losing My Religion.' It was quite different from the ambience of old songs, I usually listen to a set of songs that tug at meaning, life's meaning. Like Lana Del Rey, Jacob Banks, Nina Simone, Otis Redding, Leonard Cohen and many more. What can I say, I am an old soul. In my journals, I drafted out several essays. One thing I do is I draft by hand while I am thinking before rewriting on screen. So I went back to listen to the song. It felt like I was listening in on emotion radio and someone thinking in real time. It is still a shocker to me. The hesitation, the returning to thoughts, the fear of embarrassment, the clear uncertainty about living with longing, obsession and love broken in two. It became utterly clear how much I was losing my religion. It started out as a question, what are the things you return to? Or the people you return to?
I find it so hard to remember certain scenarios, especially with pressing questions like things. Then, when I find time to think I realise these questions are becoming necessary to ask because in the sphere of our life, It happens. We either return to things that are good for us or are not. Last month, a friend reached out. I saw the dangers of sacrificing my space and sanity to rekindle an old friendship. I have been told to not be too rigid with my boundaries, I listened and to be honest, I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have laid open the corners of my soul. The aftermath was I returned to the stability I felt but the price I paid was my peace of mind. I didn't like that. I don't see how you hurt your friend in clear pictures and you claim you never did anything wrong. These days no one wants to take responsibility, no one wants to make efforts to sustain relationships anymore. Moreover, you can always find someone better. No, you won't. You won't find the same person you lost in another person, especially if they were kind and good to you. Whatever value that person provided in your life. That routine safety, heartwarming memories and moments, conversations and whatnot, that's your religion and you can't get it back. With another person, it will just be a different experience. We often tie religion to Christianity or other denominations but the truth is, religion is routine. Made by you and I. It has nothing to do with if you believe in God or not, or if your salvation is higher than mine. It has nothing to do with if the presence of God is in your church or mine. Religion is where you safely return to, where your heart in its ache, finds its place. It can be God, it can be meditation. I mean, it can even be a person. The question still persists; what is your religion?
Before I learned myself, I learned how to build where my feet land and what my head carries. I had several religions but last month, I leaned into the idea that it might be that friend, I mean after all those years and the conversations we didn't have then were said. I don't regret showing grace to another person, but I regret not giving grace to myself first. I kept returning to the space I had healed from, the dangerous place where I had hidden and risen from. I told myself; "Don't be too hard on people, learn to live a little." I did. I live and deeply resent it when responsibilities are not taken due to hurtful actions. I could only control my actions and it meant just one thing. I do not reopen a room I have set ablaze. Those rooms do not exist in my books and when someone arrives with a belonging that was destroyed from that place, I resent it. I reject it. Because I have built and am still building a life that's utterly mine. And whatever it is which was offered to me, isn't mine. I have moved to being in a better place. While losing my religion, I forget how easy it is to give up, to stay. Wanting to be good has made us see ourselves as villains in the chapters we are writing. We are writing but someone else is holding the pen to our stories. And we have become invisible in ink, that's losing your religion. We were never meant to lose it, or fight for it. It has always been there if only we see it worthy enough to return to.
I forget how easy it is staying in a house that's burning hoping the fire goes out. That's dangerous, after putting out fires you'd realise all that's left is your burning flesh too far gone to heal or repair. There are certain decisions that cost us the entirety of our lives, because we have refused to see the damage it has on our own soul. I urge you, if you are there, please step back and focus on the revival of your soul. Don't lose your religion because you are trying to keep something else strong.
The quietness I built my life on, trained me to be a keeper but sustaining things like friendship or anything in your life requires efforts of willing parties. In one of my quiet meditations, I realized I was never meant to hold anything that has already been destroyed. So while I live in obsession, uncertainty, longing and prayers, I understand while I am conscious of my experiences and the people I invite to share that with me. I think it became very clear I had created standards and access is pretty limited and that's okay. If you feel the same then, I am delighted.
I think I understand Passenger now; that feeling of being exposed and vulnerable to someone after revealing so much of yourself can be scary. It was very clear in the song, how he was overthinking every interaction.
After a week of thinking about every conversation, I realised it wasn't me. The kind of heart I have, I shouldn't be too quick to leave it exposed. Because it remembers and it holds. I want it to mean something.
Losing my religion without losing God in all this, was a challenge, not abandoning my faith and myself. And returning to my sacredness and inner life. Religion is the building but I am the weather and when the building falls, the weather will still remain the same. It doesn't matter how many times you've lost your religion, your composure, your little spaces or little rooms, you are what matters most and you can always build again. You can return to the good places and continue where you left off. Return to yourself. I did. I learned that I might have found God in the language those spaces hold but there are several other ways to reach him when I return to myself, my place, my religion.
Now back to the question: what do I return to? What is that place, person or ritual, I always return to?
I return to God, coffee, I return to the quiet, to the chaos reaching for my thoughts. I return to art, writing, creating, building because there are still many things to learn and unlearn. To heal from. It is not linear. There are still many things I see that are heavy to carry, my heart, body and mind still open doors and pages strange to me. I return to where darkness lives and use it at will, I return to my willingness to reach for light even when it doesn't come. I return to my translations, how I move like water through shared experiences and see the world is the first crucial thing. There are many mediums and rituals to shift across and one is not enough for the depth of my mind. I return to the mornings, gentle evenings, when all I need to ease my worries is hearing my own voice, one more time. I return to people's stories which reminds me, there's more to this flesh. There is either death or aliveness and it shows all the way. I return to the body of work, I would leave myself alone but there are things to be done. I return to my haunting dreams because I need to empty myself. I return to my silences. These are the things bringing me closer to my freedom, each day. Closer to myself. There are rituals I can't return to all at once but I try to hold on to one place, one ritual, one thing, one friend or one part of myself. It keeps me afloat. I return to artists who have gone before me, music that existed before my existence. I return to God's promises to me, like a whisper waxed in my ears, scribbled on my bones. These aren't just routines, they are my religion and it is how my healing continues, from my inner life. It keeps me hidden in my sacredness.
In all you do, return to what your religion reveals. It is where your healing is. It begins when you return to it, then your body just becomes another scripture.
Until Next Time
Izogié