Shaping Faith: Chapter 8, Part 1

Analia didn’t get home until much later than normal that night – she had offered to work the late shift at the bookstore, and now she was regretting it. All she wanted to do now was collapse on the couch and relax, but she didn’t think she would be able to. Her head was buzzing with all the things she would need to do tomorrow.

She dumped her purse on the table, deliberately ignoring the sheet of unpaid bills sitting next to it. With Verona gone, she wouldn’t have enough money to pay the bills soon. I’ll have to get another job, or find a cheaper apartment. What a headache. The thought terrified her, but there was nothing she could do about that immediately, so she tried to push the thought to the back of her head and realized that she had started pacing the length of her tiny kitchen. Stop that, she chided. It’ll be fine.

Analia leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, looking into the small living room. Her backpack sat by the door, where she had dumped it earlier. The sofa sat there facing the wallscreen, innocent and inviting. She eyed it distrustfully. Sitting down sounded like heaven right now, but some mental block kept her standing. Why should I get to relax? Surely there’s something else I should be doing. But try as she might, Analia couldn’t think of any way to be productive. She drummed her fingers on the table restlessly. Why couldn’t she ever get anything done?

That’s enough, she ordered herself, realizing what was going on. That’s simply not true – that’s anxiety talking.

The physical symptoms were still there – tension in her back and shoulders, her unwillingness to sit down – but as Analia took several deep breaths, she brought it back under control. It wasn’t a real anxiety attack – she didn’t think she had clinical anxiety. This variety was brought on mostly by lack of sleep and a busy schedule. It struck on late nights such as this one, when she was tired, and she would probably feel slightly tense until the next day. It didn’t do wonders for concentration, though.

“How am I supposed to get anything done like this?” she demanded of thin air.

She dragged her backpack into her bedroom and tried working on schoolwork, but she was too tired to absorb the reading and it was nothing she couldn’t do tomorrow. After a full minute of staring at a page of lasergun diagrams without taking in a single word, she shoved at her desk and sent herself rolling across the floor. Nirvana curse this, she thought, then a moment later: Why do I still swear in Her name if I’m not even sure what I believe anymore?

Her eyes fell on her copy of the Yirvna sitting on the floor beside her bed. The cover was creased and well-worn from all the times she had turned the pages, and several bookmarks and sticky notes stuck out the top. With a pang of guilt she remembered that she had skipped evening study at church today.

In times past, Analia had always turned to the Yirvna for comfort. Lately, though, she had found more questions than answers. But maybe, just maybe, she would be able to figure something out tonight. She flopped down on her bed, picked up the book, and opened it. On the first page, underneath the title, was a handwritten letter in curly, neat letters. Analia ran her fingers over the signature and re-read every word of her mother’s note. Her mother had given her this copy of the Yirvna when she had left home two years ago. At first, she had read the note without thinking much of it. Now she read it almost every time she picked up the book. It was a simple note – it spoke of her mother’s hopes for and confidence in her daughter, but it was mostly a message of love.

One line in particular jumped out at her tonight. ‘And above all else, I know you will strive to live a good life. Remember that the church can help you on that path. Don’t be afraid to turn to them.” But what if their teachings don’t seem to lead that way? What if a just life isn’t necessarily a good one?

Brushing her hair out of her face, she turned to one of her favorite passages, one that spoke of the beauty of a balanced life in nearly poetic language, comparing it to nature’s rhythms. It told of how everything in nature had its turn, season following season without end, and promised that when mankind reached that state of balance, Nirvana would remove the stain of death and allow all to live in perfect harmony.

This, this I have always believed, she thought. Why then, do I feel so conflicted? When Analia read, it seemed plain to her that balance was what was emphasized in the Yirvna, but during church they more often spoke of Justice.

But maybe they were right. After all, just here it warned that they would only be able to reach that state of balance if punishments were meted out “with a perfectly discerning eye.”

Analia made her decision. She had been avoiding church services for too long. She would go tomorrow and simply ask the head of her congregation, Teacher Egrand.