I'll be the first to admit that "understanding" life is a futile endeavor. We get glimpses of truth, like a spot of blue in an overcast sky, but those moments are brief and often just leave us with more questions. For some this drive for understanding is all-consuming (cue a subtle wave from myself, hello there, I'm the hapless quasi-philosopher adrift in the sea of unknowing). For others they have this thing called faith. I admire them. They seem happy with their truth. Why can't I be like them? They'd argue that I could be converted, but they don't realize I've worn the faith coat in every color. I've read mountains of books, merged minds with scholars and believers. I've sat with Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Heathens, Witches, Atheists, and an endless array of other seekers. In fact I may be more faithful than most, simply because I've searched far and wide for faith. I've assembled some semblance of it from every hint of truth I've uncovered. It seems I'm devoted to finding faith. I have faith that faith exists. I just have haven't found a mode that is supported by the reality I observe. But perhaps that's where I'm faltering; in trying to tie two worlds together. Maybe faith has little to do with the reality we observe. Maybe this threshold is faith, I'm just more critical of its claim. Sorry faith. I tried. Truly. I did. But I'll keep trying. Because I find meaning in seeking these truths. I have faith that they exist. Somewhere in the ether. Or perhaps everywhere. Or nowhere. Hello again. I'm the hapless quasi-philosopher adrift in the sea of unknowing, have you seen my coat?