The Null Hypothesis: Disproved

I worried for years over whether the church was true. The dread traveled with me, always lurking beside me. Like the moon's reflection while boating, it kept not being left behind.  I finally decided to face it head on. 'Alright,' I supposed, 'what if the church is not true? Really, what if.' The idea that I could fathom such an idea shocked me-- that is the mere notion of the idea -- let alone the shock of the idea itself. I can still see the view from the car I drove. Grey steering wheel, black rainy night, red and white unfocused lights curling to the left.

Statistics claims that we cannot prove a theory or assumption, we can only disprove something, so disprove the opposite: the null hypothesis.

Trying to wrap my mind around the assumption took long moments. It felt like trying to break through a foam wall, or climb over a hill of mashed potatoes in thick fleece snow gear. I couldn't speak, breathe or really think while I pushed over. Perhaps a distant part of my infra-conciousness discussed it, "Are you sure you want to believe this?" "Yes." One step up. "Are you sure?" Yes. Step. Yes. Step. Yes. Yes. Yes. Raw desire climbed me through and I entered my new land. Looking back, I decribe the pause as a stupor of thought: a dazed lack of thought that comes when you spiritually pursuit something untrue.

My seed planted I deliberately followed Alma's experiment described in Alma 32. I tried to control for other factors by not changing anything else in my life, just this one belief. Then discover its fruits. Alma suggests key signs of a good seed belief:  it will enlarge the soul, begin to enlighten the understanding, and begin to be delicious.

My life took many turns for the worse.  For example, because I ended up worrying over the consequences of my assumption (to my family, to my life goals, to my world view) I fell into a noticable daze, lost in thought. Nothing was grounding me, nothing seemed able to stop my mental fall. Eventually I made mistakes serious enough to get me fired just a few months later. In addition my storage space (a friend's garage) was suddenly unavailable, and I had just a few weeks to move not only the boxes from the garage but myself out of my tiny studio apartment. It seemed impossible in the housing-poor city I lived--I was lucky to find my tiny hovel.

After work I walked distractedly, ideas flitted about. I had some random, unusual interactions, providing more fodder. I wish I could detail my flow of realizations and understandings. My thoughts mostly were jumbled confusion, I think, with flashes of insight I clung to. I remember the future looked grim to me. The options seemed unsatisfying. I felt very alone. My reasons for wanting to leave the church started to pale, not panning out. The path I chose grew more and more distasteful. I can't even remember my specific thoughts in the end, as I realized the seed was becoming bitter, but there came a point when I had to admit that I was very sure the seed wasn't good. So I spit it out.

The Church was true and I just had to deal with it. I needed to rejoin it. Sigh. I didn't really want to be a Mormon. I couldn't really see myself as Mormon. But I knew that was the direction to go. I knew for sure, and the moon-dread has never returned.

As an epilogue: The first Sunday back at church, I walked with a friend into the building, stood by the drinking fountain, turned to my friend as a rush of people spilled around us and said, "How am I going to find a place to live in 2 weeks?" The person at the drinking fountain leaned back up, turned, and asked, "Are you looking for a place?" Yes, she was looking for a roomate, starting immediately. She even had a friend with a truck to move all my stuff. Though the new place wasn't within walking distance from my work, it was within walking distance of the job I would settle into after I lost my current one. Impossible. Impossible! Yet True.