i've been thinking a lot about faith lately. and belief. or disbelief, maybe. spirituality. and religion. mysticism. how these things differ. and how the semantics here is vital. or is it? where is the crossover among all these things--the delineations?

i can't really speak to what it means to be a catholic. all i can do is to speak to my own experience.

in reaching into my mind--drawing the memory blanket over those countless sunday mornings i remember doughnuts paid for with quarters, advent wreaths, and the luxurious robes of priests.

i remember kneeling on the plush, green velvet, my little arms struggling to make it to the top of the pew before me. i remember countless prayers and incantations. the ringing of the bells and my mother's fist as she lightly pressed it to her chest.

i am a product of my catholic upbringing. it is where my beliefs began--where they were shaped. and in thinking over all the details there are two sermons that stand at the foreground of my mind.

1. i remember the day the priest explained why it is we read the same passages again and again. because they are metaphors, he said. because they are not meant to be taken literally, because there is always more--more to learn, more to cull, more to interpret.

in falling in love with writing i feel understand the bible and the manner in which it came to be better than ever before.