[Recorded originally as a voice note on 10 September, 2026 C.E. while walking home one evening. The thought never finished itself — but the fragment felt worth keeping.]
Sometimes a thought starts somewhere strange and never quite finishes itself.
This one started on a subway ride.
I had just come from spending time with friends — people doing their human things — and I was heading home doing something that, depending on who you ask, might either be cool or very uncool:
I was reading the Bible.
To me, it’s cool.
To a lot of people these days, apparently not so much.
There’s a lot of energy in the world right now directed toward making fun of the Bible, dismissing it, or treating it like a relic of ignorance. And look — I get it. I understand where that impulse comes from.
But there’s something that has always bothered me about that particular kind of criticism.
Most of the people doing the criticizing haven’t actually read it.
Front to back.
And if you’ve never read something — really read it — why are you so confident that you know what it says?
Now, I can already hear the response:
“But people have done terrible things in the name of the Bible.”
Yes. That’s true.
But people misusing a book does not automatically make the book itself worthless. If anything, it makes it more important to actually look at it yourself instead of relying on secondhand interpretations — whether those interpretations come from critics or from preachers.
Because the truth is, a lot of the people who use the Bible poorly probably haven’t read it very carefully either.
They may go to church.
They may hear sermons.
But hearing someone talk about a book is not the same thing as reading it.
And reading something is not the same thing as understanding it.
I know this because my relationship with the idea of God has taken a pretty strange path.
I was raised Catholic. My father died when I was seven months old.
When you’re a kid and people tell you that God has a plan, that everything happens for a reason, and that God is watching over everything — you eventually start asking questions.
Why did my dad die?
Why do other kids get fathers but I don’t?
If God sees everything and plans everything, why would He do that to a kid?
Those questions don’t go away easily.
At some point, when you keep asking and you don’t feel like you’re getting answers, you start drawing your own conclusions.
Mine was simple:
God must not exist.
Because if God existed, surely He wouldn’t do something like that.
So for most of my life — from childhood into adulthood — I considered myself an atheist.
Not because I had studied theology deeply.
Not because I had dismantled religious philosophy.
But because pain had made a very convincing argument.
That position lasted for years.
Until relatively recently.
About six months ago something shifted — not because someone argued me into it, but because I finally began to understand something I had misunderstood for most of my life.
The word God.
Not the Sunday-school version.
Not the caricature version people argue about.
Something bigger.
Something closer to the idea that God is not a being inside the universe, but the thing the universe is happening inside of.
Once you start approaching it from that angle, the word changes meaning.
And suddenly a lot of religious language starts sounding less like superstition and more like people trying — very imperfectly — to describe something enormous.
Something they could feel but didn’t quite have the language for.
I’m not here to preach about God.
If you’re curious about the idea, you can investigate it yourself.
There are a few ways people stumble into that investigation.
Some people arrive there through religious texts.
Some through philosophy.
Some through Eastern traditions — Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism — which approach the question from very different angles than Western religion does.
If you explore those traditions, one small piece of advice: find explanations that are digestible for a Western mind. The underlying ideas are powerful, but the language and cultural framing can be very different from how Western philosophy is structured.
Think of interpreters like Alan Watts, who specialized in translating Eastern philosophical ideas into language that Western audiences can actually grasp.
There are many doorways into the same set of questions.
But the one thing I’ve come to believe strongly is this:
It’s worth investigating things for yourself before deciding they’re foolish.
That goes for religion.
That goes for philosophy.
That goes for almost everything.
At this point in the recording I realized I was about to walk into a store and had to stop talking.
I meant to come back and finish the thought on the walk home.
I never did.
But sometimes an unfinished thought is still worth sharing.
Wishing you all the best,
Full Color Psycho 🙃