2002-2-15 03:11:00
The first life that you rebelled from religious authority was an interesting one. Your father was a very religious man who believed in a type of hell fire and brimstone. He felt it was his duty (being a beginning Class Two student himself) to make sure his family went to heaven. At your slightest infraction of one of his rules (real or imagined) he whipped the devil right out of you. Your mother was a kind woman who often tried to constrain him, but she was also physically abused when she displeased her husband.
You were in a family of seven kids and all of you with your mother lived in fear of Father... All except for one. This was your oldest brother. He seemed to be a clone of your Father and the two always seemed to hit it off. Your older brother was not spiritual at all in his heart. He was cruel; lied to get the kids in trouble, cared not for the hurt of others but always put on a pious face in front of Father, and Father always bought it.
Your older brother picked on you consistently and hurt you again and again. You remember one particular time that had a lasting effect on you. He felt jealous of you because you were doing better in your schooling and picked a fight with you in the backyard. Your father heard the noise and came to investigate. Instead of stopping the fight he encouraged it knowing your brother was larger and stronger. You felt so humiliated in taking that beating and hearing your father cheer it on because you were a "sinner."
When the fight was over your father and brother left, arms around each other, laughing at your pathetic state. An emotion stirred in you that had never arisen before. You wanted to show your dad, your brother and even God that you did not need them and could rise above their dominion.
You continued going to church because you knew your father would beat you silly if you did not, but in your heart you felt that religion, God and your Father were things you did not need. You waited for an opportunity to leave.
In your late teens you joined a roving band of Gypsies and a few years later became a sailor. Feeling too rebellious to conform to normal sailing you became a pirate and later a captain of a pirate ship. Unfortunately, you became as cruel as your Father was, but you did not have religion to blame for it.
After you achieved substantial wealth you paid a visit home. Your family was not sure where you got your wealth, but they all seemed happy for you except your father and older brother. They both seemed very jealous of your money and fine clothes. Your father was too old to be a physical threat to you, but it was not long before you said a wrong word and he directed your brother to teach you a lesson. This was a moment you had been waiting for. You had been in battles a plenty and were now much more experienced in fighting than he was. You left him bruised and broken so badly that he surely was affected by the incident for several lifetimes.
You still had good in your heart, however. You secretly gave some money to your mother and the rest of your family. Then you sought to settle down and raise a family, but you found you were too restless to do so. You gambled away your fortune and were forced to go back to the sea. You felt a haunting empty feeling during the next five years of pirating. Then you were unexpectedly killed. It was time for you to go. There was nothing else for you to learn in this life.
Nevertheless, you made your first conscious break with authority. From a larger point of view this was a big step for you.
-- End Of Chapter Five --
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Copyright 2002 by J.J. Dewey, All Rights Reserved