I Stand All Amazed (Remix)

I was born Mormon. When I was eight my head was gently cradled and lowered into the water, and I became an official member, fully absolved of all the sins I’d accumulated in those eights years, which was probably taking cherries from the grocery store and calling some random kid in the first grade an asshole because I’d told my friend I had to fill my swearing quota for the day.

Most of my family is Mormon. Most of my friends are/were Mormon. Yet, save for brief periods during my adolescence, I’ve never been truly active. At an early age I discovered there were many more enjoyable ways to spend a Sunday morning than going to church.

Don’t take me for a pre-teen atheist though; I was definitely god-fearing, perhaps to a ridiculous degree.

So, cut to present, here I am, done with all that, yet I find there a parts of Mormonism that have left an indelible mark on me. Even though I don’t pray, and find it worthless, I still find it awkward to begin a meal with my family without saying grace.

I can’t fully back tattoos

I have this odd sort of quixotism, this weird romantic streak that won’t die. I can’t seem to reconcile the physical with the spiritual. It doesn’t help that I’m fairly shy. This is a topic that shall be mined at a later date.

Do we get lazy and blame out environment on the things about us that we don’t want to or are unwilling to change?

Are a hundred years of tradition responsible for my inconsistencies and minor neuroses?