Satiating Curiosity

I've always had an affinity for the dark and strange, even gruesome fascinations, at times. My curiosity has long been stirred by supernatural and superstitious things. Stories of magic and creatures and immortality always create a deep sense of catharsis when mused upon.

In my faith, I have been brought up to reject these curiosities and desires. It has always led me to believe that what is taboo is what will always be most desired. But in the modern times we live in, hardly any idea one comes across is forbidden. Pursuits once deemed as noble or deranged are now dismissed as an umbrella concept of individuality. The line between hedonism and purity, once clearly marked, is smeared completely. And why is it, I feel, especially now, that choices for selfish living and indulgence are so accessible? Why is it that the new task for the "modern christian" is to walk as close as we can to a newly drawn line and beckon others to join in abstinence with no added value other than some poorly supported argument for infinite life and slight opportunities for spiritual encounters here on earth, when on the other side of that "line" awaits a freedom for curiosity spanning more articulate dimensions?

Here in lies the problem, I believe. It is a falsehood we quickly succumb to in our train of thought. I do not necessarily believe that what is forbidden is always to be more desired. It is the act of forbidding something, of drawing a curtain over the object, that lures our curiosity in. Perhaps some length of the curtain is drawn back, and we have the opportunity to glimpse a possible answer to what our prying fascination longs for. But that is all this act can bring. Once the veil has been lifted and the object fondled, the curiosity is satiated, and that burning desire is no longer attached to the thing.

Whether the curtain is drawn back fully, and the object is never obtained, or it is merely touched, or completely devoured- the quench for curiosity will never be fully satisfied. There will always remain, a burning desire to know and obtain, to search and discover. That is an inherit gift of man. How quickly we forget, that the greatest veil is death itself. That the most infinite being, designed us with a propensity to imagine, create, learn, and discover.

The Christian literary canon and the gospel were never intended to be seen as the answers to all of life's mysteries. They were meant to be used as tools, as catalysts for revitilizing a fervent curiosity to seek out the things of God, the things unknown. Not to give us as men the object behind the veil, but to pull back its curtain, to fuel that curiosity and its consequent noble pursuits, until death.

There is plenty of room left in scriptures to play with, discover, and imagine. Some say these pursuits are in vain, because we will never truly know until it is death we have finally met. Those who are afraid to probe and investigate cling to the scriptures, if they are religious. Those who are afraid and not religious cling to the things of the world.

Things that are dark and wicked and taboo and strange have a way of beckoning our curiosity, that with proper investigation and application, one may be able to attain that which lies beyond our mortal veil. However, rather than fighting against these dark luring forces, enticing our curiosities, we should look again, towards that which is light and pure. We should allow our curiosities to delve into the infinities of what is wholesome and lovely and good and perfect. What is harder to attain than perfection? What is more taboo in our society than devout purity?

This may come off as too preachy or mystical for you. But sometimes we need the mystic. We need to remember the other side. We need to explore and imagine infinity. We need to satiate our curious impulsions with exploration of things that benefit others, that echo hidden whispers of a world beyond our own mortality, things that make us wonder what it means to be good.