I was going to be clever. I was going to be sarcastic. I was going to be snarky.
Then I was going to turn one hundred eighty degrees and quit with a cold splash of wisdom to leave everyone stumped and introspective.
Right now, I can't bring myself to finish that post. It's not going anywhere in its current, rather sorry state. I began the post by touting the Episcopal Church and the liberty of thought it grants its members. I followed that statement by dissecting the first line of the Nicene Creed. I ruthlessly picked it apart, playing the idiot at every step. "What is God?" "What does Heaven specify?" "Earth?" "Genesis is no help at all here either." The intent was to then go back and say "thanks, Episcopal Church. It's because of you that these answers can be anything I want them to be." Not before some abuse of the privilege, though.
So it went for a while, and eventually, I forgot what I was saying. It was just a big joke where I went around and poked fun at a liberal belief system for which I am truly grateful. Reading that post, I sound like a spoiled brat.
Spirituality is a challenging subject for me. It's not that I don't like to think about it. In fact, I can't help but allow it to consume my thoughts on a fairly regular occasion. The problem comes when I try to express myself to other people. On some days, I find myself angering both religious zealots and reasonable churchgoers that I don't need a willful, or even an existent god to feel as though there is something greater among the beings of the universe. The rest of the time, I'm arguing with anti-spiritual cynics about going to church to celebrate the harmony between people and the irrational sense of altruism that we all call God.
At least, that's the face to which I bestow the name.
I think I actually prefer the arguments where I'm defending the churchgoers. I would rather build than demolish. So many people confuse religion with spirituality, and I'd like to think that most of us are looking for the latter when we go to church. It really doesn't matter which case I argue, though; my adversaries may look at me with pity and disgust. But at least when I'm praising spirituality, I feel overcome with optimism about the good that we can do, rather than bitterness for the abundant wrongdoing that may overshadow the good.
It's a shame that I have to use the word "adversary." These things always start out as conversations, both of us curious to see how the other thinks. Unfortunately, everyone has an agenda.
Concerning deities, I am an atheist. I don't see myself in a universe dominated by a grand essence who cares for my well being or even my existence. I don't believe that my deeds and thoughts will be judged to determine where I go when I die, because I don't believe I'm actually going anywhere in particular when I die. Conscious thought, or even just life itself, is, to me, a physical phenomenon, resulting from strange loops and inconsistency. (Yes, the previous statement is me parroting Douglas Hofstadter, but that's not the point.)
Ugh. I always get into a rant like this one just now, and it's the same rant that gets me in trouble. I get so caught up in what I'm saying that I never get to the two important parts.
The first thing I'm trying to say is that I don't need such a power to appreciate the beauty and complexity of the universe. That we are here is a miracle, and I feel fortunate to be a part of it. When my time is up, I shall go in peace. There is more out there than I can ever hope to understand, and for that I am grateful. Were our daily lives the outcome of an old father's whim, I would feel lost and scared. (Put in a more humorous way, I'm thinking of this comic.)
The second and more important thing is that I don't need religion to feel spiritually fulfilled. Yes, I prefer my church, but not as a means of worshiping. I feel the most in tune with my life and the lives of those around me when I am celebrating the good works of man. We are a species lucky enough to have the choice to behave rationally, and that power is immense, given that we also have the ability to contemplate such behavior. As instincts abound, we are driven to be self-serving, but thanks to a synthetic construct of morality, there is the notion of doing the right thing. Now, I don't believe there is a universal right and wrong, (by virtue of morality's artificiality,) but it really fills me with hope to know that people still go out of their way to do nice things, expecting nothing in return.
Some people feel a call to do good, a duty to their fellow human beings. Such action is seldom means taking the easy path, each step requiring strength and willpower.
That strength, acquired within and without, from the self and those around, is a sacred force. It exists in everyone, but it is up to the individual to seek it out. That power, to me, is God.
I don't know if I've done any better at expressing a point this way than I could with the other post I was writing. I may have skimmed over a lot of important things, and my spirituality could very well be coming off as very flat. I've said very little about my history and maturation into the person I am now. Maybe I'm killing two mockingbirds with one stone and scaring away all who would try and relate to me. I discover myself by reflecting off of others, so I really don't know how much more I have to say. I just know that there is more.
I was going to write about God. I don't know if I've done that, but at least I've given words to part of this fragile equilibrium that I've slowly been able to calibrate over these years. Maybe I'll make sense tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next week. Next year? Who knows? Who cares? You sure don't have to.
Then I was going to turn one hundred eighty degrees and quit with a cold splash of wisdom to leave everyone stumped and introspective.
Right now, I can't bring myself to finish that post. It's not going anywhere in its current, rather sorry state. I began the post by touting the Episcopal Church and the liberty of thought it grants its members. I followed that statement by dissecting the first line of the Nicene Creed. I ruthlessly picked it apart, playing the idiot at every step. "What is God?" "What does Heaven specify?" "Earth?" "Genesis is no help at all here either." The intent was to then go back and say "thanks, Episcopal Church. It's because of you that these answers can be anything I want them to be." Not before some abuse of the privilege, though.
So it went for a while, and eventually, I forgot what I was saying. It was just a big joke where I went around and poked fun at a liberal belief system for which I am truly grateful. Reading that post, I sound like a spoiled brat.
Spirituality is a challenging subject for me. It's not that I don't like to think about it. In fact, I can't help but allow it to consume my thoughts on a fairly regular occasion. The problem comes when I try to express myself to other people. On some days, I find myself angering both religious zealots and reasonable churchgoers that I don't need a willful, or even an existent god to feel as though there is something greater among the beings of the universe. The rest of the time, I'm arguing with anti-spiritual cynics about going to church to celebrate the harmony between people and the irrational sense of altruism that we all call God.
At least, that's the face to which I bestow the name.
I think I actually prefer the arguments where I'm defending the churchgoers. I would rather build than demolish. So many people confuse religion with spirituality, and I'd like to think that most of us are looking for the latter when we go to church. It really doesn't matter which case I argue, though; my adversaries may look at me with pity and disgust. But at least when I'm praising spirituality, I feel overcome with optimism about the good that we can do, rather than bitterness for the abundant wrongdoing that may overshadow the good.
It's a shame that I have to use the word "adversary." These things always start out as conversations, both of us curious to see how the other thinks. Unfortunately, everyone has an agenda.
Concerning deities, I am an atheist. I don't see myself in a universe dominated by a grand essence who cares for my well being or even my existence. I don't believe that my deeds and thoughts will be judged to determine where I go when I die, because I don't believe I'm actually going anywhere in particular when I die. Conscious thought, or even just life itself, is, to me, a physical phenomenon, resulting from strange loops and inconsistency. (Yes, the previous statement is me parroting Douglas Hofstadter, but that's not the point.)
Ugh. I always get into a rant like this one just now, and it's the same rant that gets me in trouble. I get so caught up in what I'm saying that I never get to the two important parts.
The first thing I'm trying to say is that I don't need such a power to appreciate the beauty and complexity of the universe. That we are here is a miracle, and I feel fortunate to be a part of it. When my time is up, I shall go in peace. There is more out there than I can ever hope to understand, and for that I am grateful. Were our daily lives the outcome of an old father's whim, I would feel lost and scared. (Put in a more humorous way, I'm thinking of this comic.)
The second and more important thing is that I don't need religion to feel spiritually fulfilled. Yes, I prefer my church, but not as a means of worshiping. I feel the most in tune with my life and the lives of those around me when I am celebrating the good works of man. We are a species lucky enough to have the choice to behave rationally, and that power is immense, given that we also have the ability to contemplate such behavior. As instincts abound, we are driven to be self-serving, but thanks to a synthetic construct of morality, there is the notion of doing the right thing. Now, I don't believe there is a universal right and wrong, (by virtue of morality's artificiality,) but it really fills me with hope to know that people still go out of their way to do nice things, expecting nothing in return.
Some people feel a call to do good, a duty to their fellow human beings. Such action is seldom means taking the easy path, each step requiring strength and willpower.
That strength, acquired within and without, from the self and those around, is a sacred force. It exists in everyone, but it is up to the individual to seek it out. That power, to me, is God.
I don't know if I've done any better at expressing a point this way than I could with the other post I was writing. I may have skimmed over a lot of important things, and my spirituality could very well be coming off as very flat. I've said very little about my history and maturation into the person I am now. Maybe I'm killing two mockingbirds with one stone and scaring away all who would try and relate to me. I discover myself by reflecting off of others, so I really don't know how much more I have to say. I just know that there is more.
I was going to write about God. I don't know if I've done that, but at least I've given words to part of this fragile equilibrium that I've slowly been able to calibrate over these years. Maybe I'll make sense tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next week. Next year? Who knows? Who cares? You sure don't have to.
