~ Salvation Through Fantasy, or, An Approach To Wellbeing ~ (unfinished, as completed thus far)

~ SALVATION THROUGH FANTASY ~

OR

~ AN APPROACH TO WELLBEING ~

Writing began Sunday, 08/31/2025, at ~ 11:50 PM

By

Jacob “Yeof” Morin

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~ Part One - “Thesis: Mind To Matter (Über alles Schreiben)” ~

HWÆT! Dear reader… Dearder - 

If you would lend this idea contemplation, I believe you may agree: 

~ Throughout the eons of history, there has, perhaps, been no single creation more powerful & important than that of writing. ~

I cannot say this is an objective truth, nor that anyone but myself will or does agree. I can merely attest I find this to be a theorem with bountiful evidence to support its claim.  

To me, it is not simply an academic matter of logic & reasoning, (those wonderful but so sorely-abused conceptions)…

It is a matter of spirituality. 

Now… it is important I distinguish what, precisely, I mean when I here write “spirituality”. (period after quotation-mark is intentional; I just like it better that way)

To get to where we need to be to continue that line of query, I am going to take us WAY off-track, so please bear with me. In order to describe my present definition of “spirituality”, I must enlighten thee of the spirituality of my upbringing. 

So, first… a Revelation:

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~ Part Two - “Regarding Religion” ~

~ Pt. 2-A - “My Fall”

Me: Myself: Jacob, or if you would: Yeof - I am an atheist. 

I do not believe or have faith in any supernatural or otherwise metaphysical concern beyond that which we can directly observe & measure during our finite lives, or across the collaborative sequential lives of many individuals. 

I do not believe in ghosts, insofar as their existence has not been proven. 

I do not believe in Bigfoot, insofar as their existence has not been proven (hopeful though I may be). 

I do not believe extraterrestrial aliens visit our planet, insofar as such contact has not been proven, nor the existence of such beings themselves. 

In precisely the same manner, I do not believe in the attestations of religion. 

Pardon my specific relegation to Christianity, but that is my foundational framework - 

I do not believe in afterlife, insofar as the existence of any thing or personal experience beyond the moment our bodies shut-down and our minds go dark has not been proven; no Heaven, no Hell.

I do not believe in angels or demons, insofar as the existence of such beings has not been proven. 

I do not believe in divine Will, nor otherwise predeterminism, predestination, nor any sort of fate, destiny, wyrd, etc. 

Thusly, I do not believe in God/Yahweh/YHWH/ יהוה‎, nor the Shepherd/Lamb/Christ and Son of the Father, Jesus, nor the Holy Spirit/Ghost, all of the Trinity. 

I was raised, here in the locations which prior folk of this current nation have called the city of Lewiston in the state of Maine in this current country called United States of America, as an average Roman-Catholic Christian boy, of a persuasion inspired by my paternal ancestors & their rites (those French-Canadians from Quebec who became Franco-Americans when they emigrated to this city to work in the mills of yore). 

Since I grew-up here in Lewiston (I sit & write this in my bed, in the same home I grew-up in, where I currently live again), the influence of the Franco-American Catholicism was more prevalent than that of the Protestantism my mother was raised with in those locations called the town of Salisbury in the state of Massachusetts, which was influenced by her mother’s awareness of Irish ancestry (although I did witness that brand of religion during the dark & muffled maternal-relative funerals/burials, which differed from the loftier & more aromatic ceremonies of my paternal-relative funerals/burials). 

This broad & general existential framework, while present during the foundational times of my childhood, was never more than just that: broad & general. 

My family, at home, was never, ever very religious. If my parents themselves truly were while they were raising my siblings & myself, it didn’t much show (for which I am grateful). 

We did not ever regularly attend Mass, although there were periods of time when we would more frequently, & we would during certain holidays like Easter & Christmas. 

Going to church, we would always be accompanying my Grammy (my father’s mother), & her husband, our step-grandfather. We went to Holy Family Church, a beautiful stone building atop a hill on Sabattus Street in town, near the Hannaford supermarket. 

After mass, we would always go just down the road to the Tim Horton’s restaurant-store which used to be beside the ‘Hannafid’, where we’d be treated to some very tasty donuts. 

This, to me, is all nice memory.  Church smelled very nice, what with all the frankincense and hwætnot. The polished stone architecture was imposing &, literally, awesome. Carved stoups of holy-water protruded from the walls. Dad would dip his fingers in & make the sign of the cross on our foreheads. 

Everyone seemed happy, & everyone was dressed nicely, & I used to stare-up at the intricate light fixtures dangling from the high ceiling, & the Sun would shine brilliantly through the colorful stained-glass. 

Though I never knew what was being sung in the Liturgical Latin, nor could I deeply comprehend that of the Bible read in English, the pomp & circumstance of it all was very commanding. 

As eye-catching as it all was, the truth is, the typical church experience for myself & my twin brother was not so involved. 

When we were younger, we would eat mint Altoids from the little metal tin, & drink from the tiny bottles of Poland Spring water Grammy kept in her purse (each bottle always wrapped in a little plastic baggy). We would doodle on scratch-paper, sitting backwards with our legs on the kneeler, using the pew-bench as a writing-surface. 

While many, very unfortunately, cannot say the same, I can say that I did not ever have a bad experience going to Church. I always found it all very fascinating & exciting, & while I did not ever understand much of the theology, nor expressly seek to, nor was it majorly taught to me, I understood the basics.  

Only for a very brief time when we were young did we ever attend church-school, in the building right next-door, and later in the basement of the church itself, where we used to meet for Cub Scouts. 

I remember that, at some point when we were in elementary school, we received our Confirmation in some ceremony with a bunch of other kids, at the remarkable feat of architectural wonder called the Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul - that great, palatial building which towers over the downtown (of the Diocese of Portland; one of two basilicas in New England). 

As regards the Confirmation, I recall certainly not knowing what, exactly, was happening at the time, & I truly did not until researching it just-now. 

It is an initiation rite, basically to confirm one’s faith in God, which is a very bizarre & impractical thing to impose upon a child who cannot possibly understand such matters, or at-least, healthily agree. 

Just down the road from our house, at the end of the steep hill on Deer Road, is St. Peter’s Cemetery, where we used to have picnics by the small pond next to the power-lines which lead down to the Gulf Island hydroelectric dam on the Androscoggin River. 

Wild geese would surround the peaceful water-hole with minefields of excrement, & we’d carefully tiptoe around to watch the turtles & minnows mill-about beneath the ripples, as Autumn leaves sailed above the surface below the warm light of sunset. 

I love that place. Always have. Very nice to walk through on a pleasant day. I used to cross-through to get out the lower gate to the river, when I’d go to birdwatch & meditate on the shore in front of the dam, just after my senior-year of high-school abruptly ended in March of 2020 on account of the COVID-19 pandemic. 

We have various relatives buried there beneath our Morin gravestone, those ancestral & of my lifetime. Others are interred within the walls of the mausoleum, cremated. 

The reason I find it important to detail this personal background is because it will provide context to my current convictions, despite my subsequent deconstruction from & criticism of religion.

I cannot recall precisely when I first began to seriously think about matters of theology and philosophy. 

What I can say is - I remember, as a child, probably during elementary school, sitting alone in my room & realizing my sheer fear of the concept of eternity in Heaven. 

I can actually visualize it: sitting by the window, staring at the sill shining bright white in the sunlight, thinking about my conception of what Heaven would be like. 

Admittedly, my idea of Heaven was certainly not Biblically-accurate (and I Did Be Afraid). I pictured a flat, endless plane of ground made of white, puffy clouds. The whole totality of those redeemed & accepted into the realm of Christ pranced-about in white robes, dancing & singing & smiling & laughing. 

That is all good & well, but, I thought - it’s actually sorta terrifying.

What frightened me above all else was not the physical surroundings & state of Heaven, but the stasis - the endless, stretching Time itself. 

To live forever, even in a state of Absolute bliss… would that not, inevitably, become a sort of torture? To persist, without any agency to change or deny that fate… I felt it would grow boring, first, then hellishly unbearable. 

These thoughts, however, I kept to myself. And even that pondering, chasmic fear did not lead to any further questions. Not yet. 

In fact, what I experienced before anything else was a realization that I didn’t understand the Christian theology as much as I felt I should, & a resulting strong desire to change that. 

I recall a specific moment, in the car with my dad & brother, as we were leaving a Boy Scout meeting at Holy Cross Church on the corner of Lisbon & St. Croix Streets in town (which held its final mass in June of this year, on account of attendance had decreased). 

I told my father I was afraid just how little I knew, & that I wanted to work towards a stronger relationship with God, & religion itself. 

While I don’t remember Dad’s exact reaction, I think he was somewhat taken aback, or at-least surprised. I believe my brother admitted a similar sentiment to my own, as well. 

That must have been sometime during middle-school, I’d wager. Nothing ever really came from that desire at the time, thank goodness, though I think we did go to mass somewhat more regularly for a little while. 

It was not until freshman-year of highschool that I truly gave any more serious contemplation to my own beliefs, or lack thereof. It was sorta funny how that occurred. 

My brother & myself were in our social-studies/history class, in the morning. He was sitting at the desk directly in front of mine. 

We were having some discussion on religion, probably in regards to learning about the religion of the people of ancient Mesopotamia. 

Our teacher asked we students to share, if comfortable, our personal religious beliefs. 

Some folks answered. It came to be my turn, & I said I was Catholic. I can picture this next moment so vividly - 

My brother turned around in his seat, to face me with a look of c’mon, get real. 

“Really?” he said, with a drawl of sarcasm. 

At that precise instant, though I had never really realized or given it thought before, I knew I was an atheist. 

And from that moment forward, it became my major preoccupation. 

At that single moment, I became a philosopher. I began to research, to ponder. The nature of existence & our place as beings who exist overtook the forethought of my mind, at all times. 

I became rather zealous, & proud of it. I felt a rebelliousness, as I was unafraid to say, aloud & loudly to a class of my peers, that I had rejected that which I was raised to believe. 

I felt liberated, & freed into a state of individuality which has not diminished since. 

I found in my English teacher, Ms. Lavelle, someone with knowledge & experience of such contemplation, with whom I could discuss these things, & find acceptance with her enthusiasm & encouragement. 

In that class, I recall having written a short-story, for some assignment, in which a man kills God. 

It was actually a little gratuitously & angstily violent, though I stand by it. It was kinda metal. 

That man, having come to see the horrific evil of the divine power & control, came to confront God face-to-face. 

He attacked God, slashing across the neck of the Heavenly Father with a knife, pulling the skin of the bearded face off like a mask, revealing a shiny mirror underneath, within-which the man saw only himself. 

I took any opportunity to mention my atheism, feeling an intellectual & academic pride, & seeking to inspire others. 

I felt more rebellious, overall. Suddenly, without fear of damnation, I could think & do hwætever I wanted. No longer was I solely the meek, timid, & overly-polite child of my youth. I was a young man, free to forge my own future.  

Once I had denied & opposed the authority of religion, I came to find similarities in the authority of government. 

I stopped standing for the Pledge Of Allegiance. I became obsessed with George Orwell’s “1984” while in that English class, & read it many times (to the point Ms. Lavelle specifically referenced that fact, also true of my twin, during some end-of-year ceremony for which we were receiving achievement-awards for her class). 

Sometime later, after a progressive process of researching & learning, I became fully radicalized around sophomore year. That was finalized after I watched Guillermo del Toro’s beautiful film “El laberinto del fauno” (known in English, rather inaccurately, as “Pan’s Labyrinth”), which has become one of my favorite movies. 

After watching, I asked myself - 

“Hey, what was the Spanish Civil War, anyway?”

Since then, I’ve been an anarcho-communist (though, I must note, I need to research more socialist theory. While I am opposed wholly to authoritarianism of any sort, I recognize our American perception of states like the U.S.S.R. is indubitably swayed & controlled by our filthy capitalist rulers; those faschistische Oberherren). 

This is entirely aside, but I’m reminded of a funny incident when I was a kid. 

At some time in Cub Scouts, during the latter “Webelo” stage which precedes the move into Boy Scouts, we were camping in Cadigan Cabin at Camp William Hinds, in Raymond. 

I am sure I was in fourth-grade, because I actually recall the first time I “swore”, & how I felt so naughty but also kinda guilty because of it. 

My friend dropped an apple, & he was someone I’d heard say “crap” before, so I mustered my courage & called it a “crapple”......

“Daring today, aren’t we?”

Look, I was raised to be very polite. We never, ever swore growing-up, so even saying what is hardly a swear was a big moment, for me. 

Anyhow, we were camping at the cabin-site during the winter. It was a yearly trip for us, & something I always looked forward to. 

Beside the cabin, to the left, was a large rock; probably a glacial erratic. That big boulder was damn fun to slide-down. 

On the other side of the rock was a steep hill-ridge, & between the two was formed a gorge, where we’d romp-around, sometimes. 

On this particular day, feeling somehow ashamed that I was so lame & couth compared to my peers, I set-off alone into the woodsy ravine, amongst the hush of falling snow. 

As I walked, I began to curse under my breath, feeling a great freedom I’d never felt before. “Fuck, shit, bitch, asshole, motherfucker” & the like. 

When I’d exhausted the list of foul-mouthery I knew, I actually, quietly but aloud, apologized directly to God, asking him to forgive my exploratory transgression. 

Man, I will always find that funny. 

We had been in Scouts since kindergarten, & I always enjoyed the comradery & camping & the like. Our troop, however, was never very disciplined, & we never really did much during the weekly meetings. 

Once I realized my atheism, I found an additional issue. 

Besides prevalent & atrocious issues such as sexual abuse, appropriation of Native American culture & religious themes, & promotion of the military-industrial complex (Scouting, above anything else, exists to prepare children to be soldiers), the organization is also intrinsically religious. 

We always met in the basement of either of the two churches, for one thing. Prayer & reference to God & general Christian themes was always part of it, as well. 

At some point between my philosophical liberation (sometime in Autumn 2016; that freshman year) & Christmastime, there was some sort of special Scout Sunday Mass event in the church upstairs, which we chose to participate in. 

When it came time to go and receive the Eucharist, I stayed seated in the pew. While he was & is as much an atheist as myself, & though I can’t remember surely, I think my brother may have caved under pressure, & gone-up regardless. 

But, I was steadfast & stuck fast. Our scout leaders motioned for me to come up, but I only shook my head. My father did the same, at first, but when I silently refused, he seemed to give a look of some sort of understanding. 

I don’t remember how I explained it afterwards. I probably chalked-it-up to anxiety, or something like that. 

It wasn’t long after, though (perhaps that very same afternoon), my brother & myself “came-out” as atheists to our parents. 

I remember they were both shocked & surprised. I think Dad was especially in denial, as his upbringing was quite religious. After all, it was his mother with whom we’d always gone to church.

However, I think it revealed things about themselves, as well. 

Mom was surprised at the time, but it clearly forced her to confront her own thoughts, & she has since become a very staunch & vocal atheist & anti-theist. I am very proud, & I’m glad it’s something we can talk about together. 

I’m less sure of my dad’s beliefs, or lack thereof. While he may not be so outspoken about it, I think he may feel much the same way, as far as atheism goes, based on something he once said about our family perhaps having to be buried somewhere other than the Catholic cemetery. 

I am also less sure about our two sisters, although I believe they both more-or-less hold the same convictions. 

In any event, we didn’t remain in Scouts for long. We actually stopped going for quite a while, & made the decision to quit for good. We attended one last Christmas gathering, when we informed the others it would be our last time there. 

Dad was actually relieved, revealing he’d always had reservations about the militarization of it all. 

I will say, I did miss the camping & fun of it.

Later-on in highschool, I actually started a new club, as a chapter of the Secular Student Alliance, which I called Earth+. I led it for the two years of its existence (as I’m certain it did not persist after I graduated). 

Nothing much ever really happened with it, like, at all, but I had a core group of supporters who, at least, broadly agreed with the ideas, & would humor me in attending meetings. I’m thankful Ms. Lavelle accepted the position of teacher advisor, as well.

If nothing else, I’m hopeful my occasional posters & announcements may have inspired at-least one single person to ponder le philosophique. 

The Secular Student Alliance, & my club, are & were dedicated to what is called secular humanism. Secular humanism is a philosophical way-of-life focused on bettering one’s life, as well as the ills of society, via secular expressions of compassion, logic, reason, & science.

Ever since I realized I am an atheist, I have always considered myself a secular humanist.

Over any concern or consideration of my life, my major conviction in Being is that we must better the ills of society by freeing ourselves, individually, into independence, intelligence, & personal strength. Once we have gained mastery over our own selves, we can & should turn our focus onto helping all other humans, our friends & neighbors, to achieve the same. 

Thus, that wellness should spread exponentially, like falling dominoes, but falling as into proper placement - a total unity & order, via the work of all we individuals, on our own & in-tandem. 

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~ Pt. 2-B - “Flawed Theology” ~

Religion, ultimately, is a plague to the minds of any free being. 

While I don’t necessarily believe all organized religion is orchestrated in some conscious plot, by a shadowy cabal of religious-leaders & politicians, to control the masses - it certainly & definitely is utilized intentionally in that way, by those who hold governmental power over our lives, & those who profit from that control, & the ignorance of the good people of this world.

Blessed be the believers; it is not their fault. I used to be one, myself. 

When you are raised to believe in something so fundamental & all-encompassing, from the very moment you are thrown into being (research Heidegger’s idea of geworfen/“thrownness”), of COURSE that is going to be so hard to question & deny. 

When the consequence of daring to defy that which has been hammered into you since birth is to be damned for eternity into hellfire, yes, you’re going to repress any doubts you may have. 

It’s a sick, sinful affair - a pestilence to freethought, & the natural decency of all folk.

~ Pt. 2-C - “Inspirational Theology”

~ Part Three - “The Power Of Scripture”

~ Part Four - “The Divine Secular: Metaphorical Paganism” ~

~ Part Five - “An Author’s Duty” ~

~ Pt. 5-A - “Pen As Sword” ~

~ Pt. 5-B - “Pen As Shield”

~ Pt. 5-C - “Dark Ink”

~ Pt. 5-D - “Light Ink” ~

~ Part Six - “On Fiction And Fandom” ~

~ Part Seven - “Fantasy And Fancy Free (Mind Is Magic)” ~

~ Part Eight - “Spellwriting: Writer As Wizard” ~

~ Part Nine - “Savior Ink” ~

~ Pt. 9-A - “Absolution der Politik” ~

~ Pt. 9-B - “Absolution der Intelligenz” ~

~ Part Ten - “Beacon Books (Revolutionary Ink, or, the Gun-Pen)” ~

~ Part Eleven - “Fate Or Freedom?” ~

~ Part Twelve - “Our Cosmic Duty” ~

~ Pt. 12-A - “Wellerism” ~

~ Pt. 12-B - “Cosmic Stewardship” ~

~ Pt. 12-C - “der Passion-Streit” ~

~ Part Thirteen - “Conclusion: Matter To Mind/Schreiben über die Zeit” ~

~ Thank ye, Being, for reading thus far. I wanted to post what I have currently, but I have MUCH more to add to this essay, & it will become much lengthier. I've hardly scratched the surface; in fact, I haven't even really approached its main point. Needless to say, stay tuned.

Thank ye, & be well. Until the next...

Jacob "Yeof" Morin ~