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Why I Believe in Something More
Until I was five, there were a lot of things I believed in. I believed in God and ghosts and vampires and Santa and, last but certainly not least… Pokemon. I can’t remember what exactly it was that did it, but there was a sudden moment when I began to doubt all of it. Growing to accept that Pokemon weren’t real was probably the most challenging part of all.
I was an early cynic. At worst, I was a militant atheist. It didn’t help that I devoured all of Christopher Hitchens’ debates on religion, or that in ninth grade I read Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion cover to cover. I was a firm doubter of all things supernatural.
But in tenth grade, I spent a weekend with my family in Jim Thorpe, PA. My dad booked us a 3 night stay at the Jim Thorpe Inn and the reason he chose that hotel… was because it was haunted. Or at least allegedly. I didn’t believe in any of that — but nevertheless, I’d always wanted to experience something supernatural for myself even if I doubted that I ever would.
We got a room directly next to one that was allegedly haunted. My mom was enough of a believer in the world of the supernatural that she was reluctant to stay in any room where people had reported hauntings. When I arrived in my room, from what I could tell… it was an ordinary room. It was a little antiquated, but a room nonetheless. It wasn’t a room that was…
