AND SO I WRITE.

I was born and brought up as a catholic. From as far back as I can remember, to my adulthood, I have practiced my faith blithely over the course of my conscious years. As a child, as a rebellious and hard-headed teenage days, as a young adult, and in fact, a couple of weeks ago, from the day I wrote this I turned thirty-five years old, exactly on the 16th day of March, in the year of our Lord 2026.

I would like to say that my faith is mine. I am in no way through writing this piece trying to superimpose my beliefs on you and will not delve into evangelism to try to win your soul for God. Although I suppose that I should, but that is not the purpose of why I am writing.

As a catholic, it is customary to visit confessionals in order to meet with a priest who patiently listens to narrations of acts of sins and who in turn prays for the penitent and absolves the sins. The intimacy of this visit between the penitent and the priest can be likened to that of a mental health patient and a psychiatrist in the sense that like the psychiatrist, the priest patiently listens.

No judgment, no condemnation or sentiment, no blame or accusation. Just acceptance and an attempt to soothe the mind of the person whose privilege it is to have their ear at that moment. There is also the added bonus of the confidentiality clause.

I must say that I have never really myself felt comfortable about telling everything that is heavy on my mind to a priest and in fact can assure you that I have never at any time said it all to a priest during my visits to a confessional. Also, I have never had an opportunity to have a meeting with a psychiatrist and so I do not know firsthand what the experience feels like, but from what I have watched in movies, I can only assume that like catholic priests, they must be patient listeners. If they are any good that is.

Ironically, I have always found freedom when I am writing. I can write about the most treacherous sins I ever did commit, something that I am pretty certain that I would never say out loud to any living soul even though he were to be a priest.

This freedom is the purpose of why I am writing this.

I want to feel my mind reach into the deepest and the darkest corners of my soul. Roaming freely amidst the horrors and darkness that dwells within, like the warder of a prison yard. Arrogantly free in a place supposedly meant for imprisonment.

I love how my mind quickly spins, offering for my selection a variety of creative imaginations like sales clerks in a fashion boutique, presenting expert recommendations of fashion creations perceived by them to match what they assume is my sense of style. I love how my imaginations come alive and how for some time it feels like I am detached from the realities of the world except the particular reality of the same act that is the ultimate source of my experienced freedom.

I hold my pen and watch as each word is formed freely and I marvel at how in sync it seems to be with the thoughts floating fervently around the insides of my uninhibited mind. Sometimes it is not the pen that is doing the magic, but my very own fingers, tapping rapidly across the keyboard of my laptop or smart phone as I write the words conveying meanings which attempt to do for my soul that which I assume a priest is contracted to do for the penitent.

My mind is heavy with thoughts and so I write. To rid myself of the burdens of my worries and make creative use instead of the time I ought to have spent worrying.

Eventually, I will arrive at the end of writing this piece, but the evidence of the time I spent letting my mind wander freely in the abyss of my thoughts will remain. The memory serving to remind me of that sweet and glorious freedom that is like a master key that unlocks every door.

That is like being in a trance, not so distant from reality, yet not exactly close to what can tangibly be considered realistic, lost from sight yet present, like the sun hidden by dark clouds of a storm. The feeling of my liberated mind as it adventures into the sometimes unpredictable depths of my imaginations and creative thoughts.