Nicola Frances

Apr 24, 2020

2 min read

This evening I threw out some old files full of psychology notes I labored over in fourth year. Lockdown has amounted to one large “spring clean” for everyone in the house besides my brother. I’m also giving away a big box of books I was reading in my uni years including “A Passion for Purity”, “How to Pray Effectively” and my old “Dream Dictionary” (a must-read). It is quite cringe to remember that these were the books that lined my bookshelf just 6 years ago.

Back then a major part of my life, if not the most encompassing part, was trying to figure out God’s plans for me. I would stretch out on the floor of my bachelor flat, desperate to be filled with the spirit of the lord, and then, deep disappointment would set in after what felt like enough time prostate and pleading. Off I would head to what ever party at what ever music venue was most likely to be the best time.

And I would drink and dance and drive and go to church on Sunday where I’d feel like an outsider. Obviously. This was a time when I was starting to figure things out for myself and gradually moving off the path of the righteous man, cue the voice of Samuel L Jackson.

My “C” years are hard to think about now as I feel both far removed and terribly comforted by the answer I felt privy to back then.

In 2015 I decided I would devote myself to seeking and truth. I would not be steered by creed or held by a nurtured sense of conviction. I would search for truth in people and places and try my best to suppress the stigmas I’d adopted. It’s a journey I’ve grown in.

Today I realize that the absolute cannot be known by a player in the game. Just like my version of events or personal injuries are not without bias or gaps. Truth will always lie just above my head.