When did it start for you?

Geez...I don't know. Maybe when I developped the ability to actualy think for my self.

Originally posted by Salem
When I was 7 I think, when I learned that santas wasn't existing. After that every myth just fell down, TV religions education etc... I stopped beleiving every thing I was told and I began to do my own experiences.

That's what caused me to question what I was told too - finding out that my parents were lying to me. I had never practiced religion so that was never a question. I never liked school and I knew the teachers were lying to us aswell, in particular some of the crap they came out with to make us behave drove me to mistrust them.

TV was always right in my mind until recently. I stopped paying attention to it about the age of 13 altogether as I realised it was aimed at the hard of thinking. Now I know never to believe the news on TV, and only in some newspapers.

While I was stationed in Japan, like many sailors, I had a Japanese girlfriend... what's really interesting is that I had asked her to see about going to Hirosima (I wanted to pay respects)... she didn't understand why...

(Here is the "things kept hidden" fall into play)

SHE WAS NEVER TAUGHT ABOUT HIROSIMA IN SCHOOL.

Now, I know Japan is a highly noble/ honorable society, so maybe they are trying to rid themselves of this incident.

Originally posted by soothsayer
While I was stationed in Japan, like many sailors, I had a Japanese girlfriend... what's really interesting is that I had asked her to see about going to Hirosima (I wanted to pay respects)... she didn't understand why...

(Here is the "things kept hidden" fall into play)

SHE WAS NEVER TAUGHT ABOUT HIROSIMA IN SCHOOL.

Now, I know Japan is a highly noble/ honorable society, so maybe they are trying to rid themselves of this incident.

Wow, that is interesting. You would think that it would be an important part of their history.

I have also noticed that the myth of old saint nick seems to have been a turning point for a few people.

I am wondering if it will help or hurt my kids curiosity to feed that lie. hmmm

I agree with omega. It started for me around 12. I will, until my death, search for the truth.

Well I'm a bit green. I've always approached the supernatural/alien/spritual side of conspiracies (that's my interest). So it was more of a fascination for me than a need for the truth.

Since then (i.e., now) I've been more about education to improve myself, without really caring explicitly for "truth".

When i was a kid I would switch to christ TV if someone put on the Sunday cartoons. So I think this whole "when did it start for you" was from birth, seeking spiritual answers. I'm still on the path, winding my little way...

i put two mirrors together as a child and began to think about the possibilities...

reply to post by m0rbid

You know for some people that day never comes. I think that is why people at ATS value the connections they make here so much.

I think I was fortunate to come from a family with parents that taught us to always question authority. My father in particular was a free spirit and a bit of a hippy, he brought us up to question what we were learning in school and to speak out in class if a teacher tried to tell us that Christopher Columbus "discovered" North America.
He exposed all of the kids in our family to multiple religions so we had a base to work from when the time came to pursue a belief on our own.
He never said one was right or wrong, he left it up to us.

I grew up with a distrust for government, and we learned at a young age to look at both sides of the equation before making a decision.

I even remember an assignment I did for school in about grade 7 and having my mom proof read it. Mom was the one that made me look at possibilities other than what came out in the Warren Commission Report.

I thank my parents for being free thinking people that remain to this day somewhat antidisestablishmentarianists. Mom was the Anglican, but dad wanted us to see everything from both sides...

Great thread.
For me, it started when I was around seven years old.
I was out collecting newts and hopefully, small minnows
that may have washed from a river onto a pathway during
a storm.
The pathway had deep culverts on either side and oily water
had collected there. The path joined two old Trading estates
together, and now the industry there was long forgotten.
Two rusting rail tracks kept the path company.

I was with two friends, Ian and Johnny. They were a little
older than myself and their skill with the net outshone mine!

After about one fruitless hour, Johnny suggested that we should
climb over a high, recently creosoted fence and 'recon' the pools
that lay near some vacant warehouses.

I attempted to climb the fence, the sharp points oozed dark
tar and as I thought I'd found purchase with my feet, I slipped
and the wooden spike tore the skin on the palm of my hand.

I cried.
The sun beat down and my gash stung something awful.
Johnny and Ian comforted me and calmed my hiccuped-strewn
sobs by agreeing that I should remain on the path and they would
take my jam-jar and catch me some big newts!

Through prism-clogged eyes, I beamed and watched my two
friends assault the fence like marines and leave me alone on the
cracked and pot-holed track.

Five minutes plodded by and I settled down against an gnarled
post that may have once supported hankerchief-waving children
as steam-pluming locomotives dragged steel to the factories.

The priest came into view as I inspected my hand, the bleeding
(it had never been more than a drop!) had stopped and the
throbbing hadn't started yet.
He was around twenty-five years old, although anyone over
16 years old to me was ancient and to be avoided.
He walked an easy pace in his all-black suit, he past me and
smiled lightly as he saw me watching him cautiously.

He was around eight feet past me, when he slowed and turned to
face me. My muscles tensed... fight or flight? Well back there and
back then I was just a boy... no dress of course, just a tear-stained
kid with a sore hand... so it would be flight.

His smile remained as he called across the distance "Do you know
who I am son?" His tone was light, but I still glanced at my escape
route into the tall weeds near the track.
"Er, no" I murmered and cleared my throat, there may be more
questions.

"I'm Jesus... that's who I am" he said and went on his way, his
raven-black hair fluttered in the light breeze.
The crunch of gravel faded as he left and I just stood there
wondering what had just happened.

It was another half hour before Ian and Johnny appeared and
the jars swilled with frog spawn and goggle-eyed minnows.
I thought of telling them my encounter, but I felt that it may be
more prudent to remain quiet and dwell on it later.

So that's where I believe it started for me... Was he who he said
he was?... why would he say such a thing?... why me and what
else strange is out there?

That old track led me here, and a older boy waits near the same
cracked gnarled post waiting for the answers.
And I still wait.

I started questioning things probably when I was 8 or 9. I had a very horrible school teacher that was in every way a bitter person that should not be teaching school children, but the one good thing she did was she did encourage me to think for myself because I would not play her game or do things her way. I used to sit in the principals office almost every day for it. I didn't go full throttle until high school though, then I questioned everything. I'm not as hostile about as I was then, but now I'm more about having a good discussion without getting personal.

I had a pretty hard life and still do, so I think I was about 13 when I started having all these questions. It was like I needed to make sense of everything because I was so confused as of what was going on.

Originally posted by Jess_Undefined
I had a pretty hard life and still do, so I think I was about 13 when I started having all these questions. It was like I needed to make sense of everything because I was so confused as of what was going on.

I find it amazing that know matter how much we learn we have still not made sense of everything. I suppose that is one of those things that makes life so interesting and worthwhile is that pursuit of understanding.

When I was 4. My parents & other family members arent religious in the slightest, but I ended up being enrolled at a catholic school. So I was basically thrown in the deep end, praying 3 times a day, listening to stories from the bible etc, having never heard anything about God beforehand.

So inevitably I became slightly confused, asked my 15 year old brother if God existed and he just said 'nah, he doesnt'. And as he used to buy me lots of sweets and was the only person who'd sit and watch playdays with me, I took his word over the teachers. And that was that.

reply to post by NephraTari


I guess around 10/11 for me, but I wouldn't actually speak out on things till I was maybe 13 when I had a huge surge of confidence!

I did alot of questioning about things to myself, and would run things through my head but I never had the balls to question anything or anyone outright at first! i'm still hesitant now, just a little less so, but yeah I tend to keep thoughts/opinions to myself mostly!

reply to post by valiant
over the years I have learned the best way to do this is to ask them hard questions rather just make oppositional statements to them. I try to make them answer the questions for themselves in a non threatening way so they get the idea without me actually telling them.

reply to post by NephraTari


I don't think i'm smart enough to do that! I have a tendancy to make passing statements that I try to say what I want in or get my view across, but leave little room for a reply, if you know what I mean? I dunno, i've always done it, it's not through fear of having my thoughts/opinions questioned, it's more that I don't feel confident enough arguing the point across, i'd sooner shut up and stay out of sight in most cases!