i practised religious rituals that i adapted to thecircumstances – solitary masses without priests or consecratedcommunion hosts, darshans without murtis, and pujas withturtle meat for prasad, acts of devotion to allah not knowingwhere mecca was and getting my arabic wrong. they broughtme comfort, that is certain. but it was hard, oh, it was hard.

faith in god is an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust, afree act of love – but sometimes it was so hard to love.

sometimes my heart was sinking so fast with anger, desolationand weariness, i was afraid it would sink to the very bottom ofthe pacific and i would not be able to lift it back up.

at such moments i tried to elevate myself. i would touch theturban i had made with the remnants of my shirt and i wouldsay aloud, "this is god's hat!"i would pat my pants and say aloud, "this is god'sattire!"i would point to richard parker and say aloud, "this isgod's cat!"i would point to the lifeboat and say aloud, "this is god'sark!"i would spread my hands wide and say aloud, "these aregod's wide acres!"i would point at the sky and say aloud, "this is god'sear!"and in this way i would remind myself of creation and ofmy place in it.

but god's hat was always unravelling. god's pants werefalling apart. god's cat was a constant danger. god's ark was ajail. god's wide acres were slowly killing me. god's ear didn'tseem to be listening.

despair was a heavy blackness that let no light in or out. itwas a hell beyond expression. i thank god it always passed. aschool of fish appeared around the net or a knot cried out tobe reknotted. or i thought of my family, of how they werespared this terrible agony. the blackness would stir andeventually go away, and god would remain, a shining point oflight in my heart. i would go on loving.