Category Archives: Philosophy

Rejecting The Other

I really don’t know what to write about today.

For a while, I was doing pretty well. I had a couple days’ worth of buffer posts, and I was writing regularly, sometimes even adding to my buffer. But then last week, something shifted. I found myself more easily distracted than usual. I found my motivation draining as soon as I sat down in front of my keyboard. Hours passed, where I did nothing but refresh Facebook and Tumblr, while alternately throwing myself into reflex-intensive video games. Days when I didn’t have to work passed in a blur; I know I did something during the day, but I’d be really hard pressed to describe what that was.

But I didn’t feel overly depressed, just under-motivated. I didn’t feel like writing. I didn’t feel like reading. I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. Then, I realized that I was probably in a Funk. A shallow one, but a Funk nonetheless. The past few days of cloudy, gloomy weather certainly haven’t helped, nor has my lack of sleep over the past few nights.

Of course, knowing I’m in a Funk, while it does remind me to not take my thoughts too seriously, doesn’t seem to do much to get me out of it any quicker.

That’s been one of the tougher things for me to come to terms with: that depression doesn’t necessarily have any logical motivator or obvious trigger. There are times when it seems completely out of my control. Sure, I can try to avoid setting myself up for a Funk, but it’s kinda hard to get a good night’s sleep when you brain just won’t turn off even though it’s 10pm and your alarm is going to go off in six hours. It’s hard to get enough sun when the day is overcast and there’s several inches of wet spring snow on top of everything. Oh, and concentration? Guess what else is exacerbated by fatigue? Can you say ADD? I knew you could!

One thing that does help me remember that depression lies is thinking of depression as some Other, as something outside my control that deigns to envelop me in its inky black tendrils. And if it’s outside my control, I shouldn’t beat myself up when it takes hold. Whether it’s subconscious guilt bubbling to the surface or my very neurochemistry betraying me, that darkness that drags me down is not me. It is Other. And because it is Other, it can be fought.

Writing helps. A disturbing amount, actually. In fact, just this week I sat down to write when feeling especially directionless and unmotivated. But I wrote anyway, not even about how I was feeling, and I felt better. The very thing that depression was trying to keep me from doing helped banish it (at least for a little bit). In fact, you may even be able to see my mood lightening as this blog entry goes on. I’m sure there’s a lesson there, but let’s leave it as an exercise to the reader.

Depression is Other. It is not you. It lies. And even though it may knock you around, score a few points, you can fight it. With whatever tools at your disposal.

I know I’m building up my arsenal.

Proselytizing vs. Consent

Sorry for the late post.  Technical difficulties conspired to compound my procrastination today, and I burned up most of my buffer during a shallow Funk.  Better late than never, though.  Hope your ready for a relatively heavy topic…

I was having a conversation online recently about religion (not the brightest idea, I know), when the subject of proselytizing came up. Specifically, why so many evangelical Christians (the denomination in question during this conversation) seem to persist even when politely (or not-so-politely) told “no thank you.”

This video by Penn Jillette was brought up as an example of why. In it, Jillette talks about how he has to respect Christians that persist in their proselytizing, since according to their worldview, they would be condemning a nonbeliever to a fate worse than death if they didn’t do their utmost to “save” them. After all, if they truly believe that non-Christians are going to Hell, it would be criminally negligent of them to not try and do something about it.

I can see where Jillette is coming from: that sort of sincerity, no matter how misguided, has to garner at least some level of respect. However, the more I thought about this issue, the less comfortable I became with that answer. Doubly so when I thought about unwanted, persistent proselytizing in terms of consent.

I realized that, by encouraging people to proselytize even when asked not to, we are also encouraging them to not take “no” for an answer. We are implying that the proselytizer knows better how to run another individual’s life than that individual. We are telling people that their opinions don’t matter, that they are wrong. That all they need to do is give up control and everything will be better.

Do you see where that starts to sound scary?

After all, religious instruction often starts at a very, very young age. As such, the core tenets of a given religion can form huge cornerstones of a person’s personality. If they’re taught to not take “no” for an answer when proselytizing, then how much of a stretch is it to think that they won’t take “no” for an answer in other aspects of their lives? Like jobs? Or politics? Or relationships?

Now, I’m not saying that following a religion that enshrines proselytizing automatically turns someone into a rapist (although if I wanted to be uncouth, I could mention that the Catholic clergy has a lot to answer for these days). That would be an unfair over-generalization. But it’s pretty clear that we have consent issues in our modern society, and I can’t help but wonder if this religious prerogative isn’t in some way contributing to that.

Gaming Therapy?

When I was writing yesterday’s post, I got to thinking about why I enjoy games like BIT.TRIP Presents… Runner 2: Future Legend of Rhythm Alien (man, that’s a long name). And the more I thought about it, the more I decided it’s because old-school hard games like that demand perfection.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that perfection is usually a touchy subject for me. I’ve long struggled with the fear of doing thing wrong, with not doing the best I could. I’ve beaten myself up over it time and again, whether it’s a less-than-perfect grade, or merely the fact that I wasted the entire day playing an idle launcher game online (true story!). I know that perfection is an impossible ideal in real life, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling bad when I don’t achieve it.

The key phrase in that last sentence, however, is “real life.” Games provide a safe haven, where risk is largely trivialized and rewards are substantial and obvious. It is usually obvious what you need to do, and even if it isn’t, the consequences for failing are minimal. In fact, you can quite easily go back and try again. And again! And again, until you finally get it right.

I feel good when I play video games. When I set out to complete a level, or beat a boss, or seduce a willing NPC, I have a clear goal, as well as an easy way of measuring success. And when I do succeed, I feel like I’ve accomplished something. I feel like I’ve followed through with something to the end. And that fulfillment is something I don’t feel nearly often enough in my day-to-day life.

I think that’s one of the reasons I stuck with grad school: less because I felt architecture was my “purpose,” and more because I felt it was important to follow through with something I set out to do, like stick with a major all the way through to the end. Was that the best idea? I don’t know; so far, all it’s left me with is a stupid retail job and a pile of student debt. But I stuck with it, got the magic piece of paper that says I’m qualified. That has to count for something, right?

…Sorry, went off on a bit of a tangent, there. What was I saying? Oh yeah: perfection and video games.

Video games that demand perfection, for me, are a way to sublimate my own need to be perfect, in a way that doesn’t (too) adversely affect my life, either in the short or long term. By creating a safe microcosm of easily-achievable goals, I can get rewarded for my perfection that doesn’t take such a toll on my psyche. I get to make decisions, but can change my mind later if I want.

After all, if you’re worried about being perfect in real life, you can’t just reload and try again.

Man, This Soapbox Is Getting A Lot Of Use

I was having another discussion recently about the Science vs. Creationism debate. I was trying to sketch out the broad positions, describe my stance, when I was asked a simple question:

Why?

Why does it matter if some people “believe” in evolution, while others believe that the earth was created 6,000 years ago? What effect does it have on our day to day life? Why can’t we all just get along?

Why, you ask?

Because 46% of Americans believe that God created humans in their present form thousands of years ago.

Because these people are degrading our public schools by insisting their junk theories be taught as fact.

Because teaching religion in public schools is unconstitutional and illegal.

Because teaching creationism discourages critical thinking and promotes an unscientific worldview.

Because these people are making our laws and shaping our future, either through direct legislation or through voting.

Because these selfsame anti-science people are the ones denying anthropogenic climate change.

Because religious politicians and corporations are seeking to deny basic human rights to half of the nation’s population.

Because these people are lying to women about their healthcare options.

Because these people are wrong.

THAT is why this discussion matters. Because for far too long we have been silent, thereby letting these evil philosophies worm their way into national discourse. And it is killing us. True, we may not convince the people on the other side of the “debate,” and that makes me sad. But others may see or hear these conversations, people who are more open to changing their minds. I have to hope eventually they will. Otherwise, we may have to wait for the conservative sticks-in-the-mud to die of old age, hoping they don’t screw things up too much on their way out.

Because these are important issues.

Because we have good reason to be angry.

Because all that is required for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing.

Science Is Right, You Are Wrong

I pride myself on being fairly level-headed and rational. I really do. But every once in a while I’ll come across something that is just so very wrong that I can’t help myself. Whenever that happens, another iota of my innocence and faith in humanity shrivels up and dies.

Recently, I was involved in a discussion online about science and religion. Someone was trying to make the point that science requires just as much faith as religion. This is wrong, as the findings of science are true regardless of whether or not one believes in them. In fact, faith, by definition, requires the lack of proof.

But that’s a post in and of itself. What struck me the most about this conversation was the sheer ignorance on display in regards to basic scientific concepts. For instance: scientific theory. For most lay people, a theory is an idea of how things work that may or may not be true. But for a scientist, nothing could be farther from the truth. A scientific theory is “a comprehensive explanation of some aspect of nature that is supported by a vast body of evidence” (according to the National Academy of Sciences). After all, gravity is “only a theory.” Evolution is “only a theory.” But you don’t see people worrying about falling up into the sky when the go outside, do you?

Which brings me to another point: this person had such a poor understanding of science and evolution, I wasn’t sure where to even start. Most of these comments came in response to this article, and I’d like to take a bit of space to attempt to respond to them here. Plus, since this is my blog after all, I feel less of an urge to be properly diplomatic. Passionate arguments ahead!

1. The Universal Genetic Code: Could this not also be evidence of a single designer? I mean, the spark plugs from one type of car often work in an entirely different type of car. This doesn’t mean they both evolved from a skateboard.

This shows a staggering ignorance of how evolution actually works. Modern organisms did not evolve from other modern organisms; they both diverged from a common ancestor many years ago.

2. The Fossil Record: The fossil record proves nothing. Fossils prove nothing. When we find a fossilized skeleton, all we know is that something died there. We cannot conclusively prove that the organism had any offspring or that the offspring eventually turned into an entirely different form of organism. Furthermore, the fossil record and the geologic column are an exercise in circular reasoning: they use the fossils to date the rocks and the rocks to date the fossils. Given that kind of criteria, how can we know that what we’re looking at when we look at the fossil record is in any way chronological?

This is the one that had me figuratively frothing at the mouth. Clearly this person could not be reasoned with or engaged in anything resembling rational debate. But let’s attempt some refutation anyway. Here we see an example of the “you weren’t there, so you can’t know” fallacy. That’s the beauty of science: it lets us make models of less observable phenomena through more observable ones. There are also many ways of estimating the dates of the fossil record that don’t rely on relative observations. Also, individuals don’t evolve; populations do.

Oh, and you know what makes a better example in circular reasoning? The Bible: “The Bible is true because it says it is true.”

3. Genetic Commonalities: Francis Collins, the head of the human genome project wrote, “This evidence alone does not, of course, prove a common ancestor.” So…

The fact that we have eyes, mice have eyes, frogs have eyes, dinosaurs had eyes, and whales have eyes in no way proves that we all came from inanimate slime on a rock somewhere. Again, similarities in function might just as easily suggest a common designer as opposed to a common ancestor.

The beliefs of one individual do not necessarily reflect the overarching scientific consensus. In fact, there was quite a bit of concern in the scientific community regarding Collins’ tenure as Director of the National Institutes of Health. So… what?

Genetic commonalities go much further than lots of organisms having eyes. It is a provable scientific fact that we share large percentages of our genome with other species. This is NOT about similarities in function, this is about identical portions of DNA that are present across related organisms.

Besides, you weren’t there, so how can you KNOW dinosaurs had eyes?!? </sarcasm>

4. Common Traits in Embryos: Haeckl confessed and was found guilty of fraud more than 100 years ago now and still the “biogenetic law” persists. Ontogeny does not repeat phylogeny.

So this may not be the best example, I will admit, as it can be easily refuted. But as quoted from Wikipedia, “embryos do undergo a period where their morphology is strongly shaped by their phylogenetic position, rather than selective pressures.” The next statements are more interesting, anyway.

5. Bacterial Resistance to Antibiotics: Variation within a bacterial kind in no way proves that the bacteria is forming into some kind of new organism. Mutation and natural selection only lead to losses of genetic information and changes in subsequent generations of organisms because of genetic information already present is demonstrably not macro-evolution. For evolution to occur, new information must be introduced and this has never been observed.

First of all, kind? What the heck is a “kind?” If it’s being used in the biblical sense, then hoo boy are you under-informed. First of all, mutation and natural selection do not “always lead to losses of genetic information.” There are many ways mutation can occur, from transcription errors resulting in the modification or duplication of a gene, to random fluctuation caused by exposure to radiation. Secondly, the only difference between “macro-evolution” and what I’m guessing you’d call “micro-evolution” is the time scale. Macroevolution is merely microevolution on a geologically compounded scale.

Also, your assertion that the introduction of new information has never been observed is false. I would point you in the direction of this experiment, where an isolated population of E. coli bacteria evolved the ability to digest citric acid.

Despite all the times you said, “We don’t know” you still arrive at the conclusion that evolution “is a fact”. This, if I may be so bold, constitutes faith. You are believing in the reliability of something you yourself admit you cannot empirically know. Hence, why religious people who may not subscribe to the so-called absolute authority of science are quick to point out that the naturalists among us are just as faith-based as the rest of us (to answer ____’s point earlier.) This is not a bad thing, but it levels the playing field a bit in regards to all the claims we throw at each other.

Faith: strong or unshakeable belief in something, esp. without proof or evidence; belief that is not based on proof (dictionary.com); firm belief in something for which there is no proof (Merriam-Webster).

By its definition faith precludes proof. When we say “we don’t know,” we mean that it is impossible to know anything with 100% certainty. That being said, however, we can know something in such detail that we reduce the uncertainty to a functionally negligible amount. That’s the thing about science: it lets us make objective predictions based on things we can observe to help explain the unknown or unobservable. Those of us who have “subscribe[d] to the so-called absolute authority of science” have generally done so after observing the evidence available to us, thinking critically about it, and trying to fit it into existing paradigms. If it fits, great! If not, then the paradigm needs to change. Faith, on the other hand, is required due to the lack of evidence and is preserved through ignorance.

And, to add one more observation: even if the modes of abiogenesis were reproduced in a lab, it still doesn’t prove that abiogenesis is how life came to be (a 1 in more than 10-to-the-80,000th-power of a chance, I’m given to understand). If we were to somehow reproduce evolution in a lab and demonstrate how the event might have occurred in the past, this experiment would in no way prove if, in fact, the event did actually occur in history. Proving that it could happen does not prove that it did. And furthermore, aren’t we also simply proving that if evolution were to occur, it would require an intelligent agent to drive it? When it comes to the science of origins, then, I maintain that all the science in the world will never be sufficient to definitively tell us exactly what took place. It is simply beyond the bounds of science’s abilities to demonstrate. The entire realm of origins is one positioned squarely in the arena of faith: and, contrary to what some of us here seem to believe, faith is not by definition blind or uniformed.

So what you’re saying is you won’t accept proof that doesn’t fit your already-held beliefs if/when it becomes available. This is more of the “You weren’t there, thus can’t know” tripe. Clearly no body of knowledge can shake your faith. At least science is capable of admitting when it’s wrong.

You mention the astronomical chances of abiogenesis; do you realize how likely that still makes it? The scale of the universe, both temporal and spatial, is beyond anything humans are used to fathoming. I’d be curious to see where your 1-in-1080,000 figure came from, by the way. It seems like you’re throwing big numbers out in an attempt to overwhelm.

* * *

So there you have it: my response that I deemed too catty and impolitic to post anywhere but my personal blog. It also marks the introduction of an image that, much like the Drama Llama, may make additional appearances (for better or worse):

The Stupid, It Burns by Plognark

by Plognark

Also, watch Cosmos.

*steps off soapbox*

Revising Expectations

It’s funny how your goals change.

When I finished my Master’s degree in 2012, I was excited. I had finally stuck with an educational goal from start to finish, something that I felt I had been lacking since changing majors in undergrad. I was ready to go out into the world and find a job in the industry, using the specialized knowledge I had earned through no small investment of time and money. Looking into the future, I figured I could be a licensed architect by the time I was 30.

These days, I’d be just as happy if I managed to escape my dead-end retail job by that age.

Yes, it’s going to be one of those posts. I’ll try not to come off as too “poor me,” but the development of my pragmatism has not been an easy one for me. Sure, no plan survives contact with reality; but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I have always been fairly idealistic. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. I tend to believe that things will work out alright in the end. By viewing the world through this lens, I often project simple, pure motives onto people and things. After all, it wouldn’t cross my mind to be duplicitous, so why should it cross someone else’s?

Reality, of course, often has different ideas. People can be more dishonest or manipulative than I give them credit for. Sometimes the vagaries of random chance leave you holding the short end of the stick, through no fault of your own. For someone who grasps for the basic good of things, these facts can be hard to internalize. After all, when something goes wrong, is it due to the aforementioned random chance or through some mistake you made? If someone complains about something you did or said, are they looking to merely create drama, or did you commit some major social faux-pas?

But I digress. Let’s get back to expectations.

Throughout the years, I have tried to be better about lowering my expectations. Far too often I’ve had my lofty plans, my hopes and dreams, dashed upon the harsh, unyielding rocks of reality. This inevitably begins to take its toll: the closer you fly to the sun, the further and harder you will fall. I’m starting to realize that high expectations, more often that not, merely set me up for disappointment. That’s not to say that I’m always doom-and-gloom about everything, or that I don’t enjoy things in life. I still hope, I just try to keep it tempered by a certain amount of realism.

Maybe this is just part of growing up. Maybe this is what it feels like to have the last vestiges of chilhood innocence depart. It’s not a good feeling, let me tell you. But I can’t help but hope (heh) that it is for the best, in the long run. Maybe a certain level of psychological resilience is needed to survive in our world, like a callous that protect’s a worker’s hands from the tools of their trade.

Where am I going with this? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me looking at my life and not seeing what I expected to. Maybe it’s me feeling trapped in a job that steals my social time and joie-de-vie from me. Maybe it’s me just feeling particularly sleep-deprived and maudlin. Maybe it’s me having an epiphany. I don’t know. I’m not sure where I expected this entry to go when I started it. But maybe that’s the point I’m trying to make: by keeping your expectations low (or loosely defined), you have a greater chance of meeting them. See? I can do hopeful and uplifting, kinda…

Retail still sucks, though.

Windmills On The Web

The Internet is really, really great. There’s tons of interesting stuff out there. I love to read what people have to say. I even (very) occasionally say some things of my own. But I’m primarily a lurker. I like to see what people have to say, and the conversations, both civil and otherwise, those comments can elicit. Besides, I hate arguing on the Internet.

And yet…

And yet, every once in a while I just can’t help myself and have to chime in. Now, I will admit that there are certain advantages to debating (if we’re being generous) and arguing (if we’re being cynical) online versus in person. The biggest one for me is that I can generally take my time, formulating points and supporting evidence with a thoroughness that can’t be matched when put on the spot. Plus, the interconnectedness of things online lets one easily cite sources and provide further reading.

Of course, one tends to lose some of the subtleties of face-to-face communication in a text-based medium. So I try to compensate by using what advantages writing gives to my fullest. I’ll think my words through carefully, finding links and references to support my points. I try to be clear, calm, and logical as much as I can.

The problem comes when the other side doesn’t feel like doing the same.

But I try. I try to stay civil. I try to frame my responses in ways that respond to the points the other person makes, not them personally. I try to look at their sources and references objectively, on their own merits. I ask for clarification, giving them a chance to elaborate on their point in case I’ve misconstrued something that was merely poorly stated. I really do try…

But sometimes, the stupid just burns too much.

Part of that seems to be people’s tendency towards brevity when it comes to online communication when it comes to commenting. It can be really hard to make a carefully worded, nuanced point in a paragraph or two, especially on something as ephemeral as Facebook. Generally, I avoid such attempts at conversation for just that reason. But like I said, every once in a while I wade in, some small part of me convinced that this time it’d be different. That this time I’ll be able to have a good debate, or make my point in such a way that they come to see the error of their ways.

But of course, I am inevitably disappointed.

I don’t know why I bother. I know I should just let it go, but once I put my two cents in I feel obligated to defend my point. Thus begins a cycle of research, writing, revision, and posting. But that can only go on for so long before I start to feel myself being dragged down to my opponent’s level. In theory I know that no one is going to convince someone to change truly deep-seated beliefs with logic and supporting evidence.

But I keep trying.

Self-Censorship

On this blog, I write about pretty much whatever strikes my fancy. And people read my words. Now that’s a weird enough feeling in and of itself, but I’ve noticed something else, as well. The fact that I know people read what I write, and that people I know read what I write, affects what I write. I’m not sure if this is good or bad, let alone if I could stop doing so even if I tried.

I am, by nature, an appeaser. I want people to be happy. I don’t want to rock the boat. When a potential conflict rears its head, I’m more likely to step aside at personal cost than to make an issue of things. I know this. It’s just part of who I am.

But I also know that people tend to present themselves differently to different people. We all wear masks, and I am no different. By definition, those masks aren’t a true indicator of who we really are. For instance: someone may present themselves in a calm and professional manner while at work, but on the weekends dress up in medieval armor and beat their friends with sticks (a completely random example, by the way). Obviously they’re not going to show up to work in armor, and they’re (hopefully) not going to attend an SCA event in a three-piece suit.

Here is where my tendency to appease and my habit of wearing social masks come into conflict. I have both friends and family that read this blog. Now, I know for a fact that I present myself differently to my family than I do to my friends, almost by necessity. I have grown and changed as a person since I moved out on my own, but my family will inevitably build their mental model of me based on who I was when I was younger. Just as I do with them. Normally, this isn’t that much of an issue, but sometimes the changes can be more drastic than not.

Like I said, I tend to want to make people happy and not make a scene. As such, I’ve had a tendency over the years to keep my opinions to myself. It’s often easier that way; I don’t exactly have what I’d call a forceful personality. But over recent years I’ve gotten used to being able to express my own opinions, not in the least because my self-selected circle of friends shares a large number (but not all) of them.

So I find myself with a slight conflict of interest. Do I present myself as who I feel that I am, full stop, damn the consequences? Or do I put on a mask and temper my opinions, continuing in my habit of keeping things smoothed over?

I’d honestly like to be able to do the former, but it would take some willpower to break years of habit and reflex. Like I said, I really don’t want to offend people. But at the same time, I don’t want to present myself under false pretenses. Wearing a mask is such an ingrained reflex that I’m not sure I could take it off completely even if I tried. To say nothing of whether or not that’s even a good idea. After all, polite society requires at least some level of deception.

I’m not asking for advice. I’m merely thinking aloud. I feel like I’ve taken the first steps in peeling away the mask, especially in my more philosophically-oriented posts. And it is definitely easier to do so in this written environment than face-to-face: I have time to think and plan out the best way to communicate what I’m trying to say. To say nothing of the fact that, in the end, this blog is my space. I should be free to do whatever I please.

Either way, thanks for reading. Here’s hoping my writings don’t make family holidays too “interesting.”

Losing My Religion

By the end of high school, I was very much in the “spiritual but not religious” camp. Conveniently, it was also a great way to get people to stop asking you about religion, and to avoid thinking too deeply about things. Religion had been a background part of my life for so long, I probably didn’t know what I’d do without it. But looking back at it now, the choice to be “spiritual but not religious” was probably my first step down the road away from belief.

Like I said, it allowed me to avoid thinking critically about my beliefs, and at the time this was a good thing. I had graduated high school a year early, and was well on my way to going to college. I planned to double major, and would have little time to spend pondering the vagaries of existence.

Unsurprisingly, religion and spirituality became less of a daily concern. I was more concerned first with keeping my head above academic water, and then avoiding completely burning out after a grueling freshman year. I began to say and think things like “I’ve got too much going on in my normal life to worry about the next one.” I even stopped referring to myself as “spiritual but not religious.”

I woke up one day and realized how little my previous beliefs had to do with my life. But more surprisingly, I realized how little difference that made to me. I still got up in the morning. I still went to class and work. I still enjoyed my hobbies and the company of my friends. My life still felt full.

For a while, that was enough for me. I became wholly unconcerned with the question of whether or not there was anything “out there,” metaphysically speaking. I guess you could call me “un-gnostic:” I didn’t need to know.

But as it turns out, I was merely ignoring the issue. I had yet to really ask myself any tough questions. As a result, I still held on to a lot of internalized beliefs that I hadn’t critically investigated. The big one was whether or not life (…the universe, and everything) had any overarching purpose that it/we/I was meant to fulfill.

This became my greatest source of angst for quite a while. Unlike other people around me, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, let alone what I was supposed to do. So I worried. And then my old friend Catholic Guilt reared its head to make things even better. So I wandered. I finished college. I fell into a job. I tried grad school. I quit the job, finished grad school. I got depressed.

Until one day I was driving my car and had an epiphany: what if there wasn’t any purpose to things? What if there wasn’t any deeper meaning to life? What if what we saw in front of us was all there was, the only meaning that which we give to things?

I don’t know if I can communicate how freeing that realization was. It was like the sun came out after a long, dark winter. I actually smiled, laughing slightly to myself as I drove down the road. “Everything is meaningless!” I told myself. And I knew that it was true. Rather than sucking the wonder and vitality out of everything, it seemed to enhance them.

So there’s my story, how my faith ended with mostly a whimper. It trickled out gradually, and I found that I didn’t miss it. I still have some baggage from my religious and spiritual past, of course. I don’t always remember that life is meaningless, but when I do, it frees me from a bit of the guilt I carry around with me. And talking with people who may not know about my journey and current worldview can get awkward. Especially given my tendency to not want to rock the boat/cause a scene.

Hopefully you enjoyed this look into my mind. Hopefully you came away educated rather than offended. But just in case, I will add a final disclaimer: this is what works for me. What works for you and makes you happy may be different, and I respect that. I’m willing to have a good conversation about things, even a debate. But if you want me to respect your beliefs, all I ask is that you respect mine.

That’s Me In The Spotlight

I mentioned in my last post that my parents had some difficulty finding a new church after we moved to Colorado. They tried several, but failed to find any that truly struck a chord within them. So they broadened their search, outside the bounds of Catholicism, and even traditional Christianity.

I guess you could say this was the start of our experience with New Age woo.

Past life regression. Angel therapy. Auras. Chakras. The Law of Attraction. The “power of positive thinking.” Things like that.

They found a church that practiced something called Religious Science. Even though it was clear on the other side of town, we started attending every Sunday. Major tenets included the connectedness of all things, that we were all expressions of a “Christ Consciousness” that permeated and touched everything in the entire universe. It seemed to pull teachings and philosophies from both Western and Eastern sources, recognizing a number of great teachers throughout the ages. Positive thinking was paramount, and one simply had to put the intention “out to the Universe” to achieve a desired result. In addition, one always got back what one put out.

I remember a bit more about this time period, not just because I was older, but because the contrast to what came before was quite visible. The philosophies and teachings of my parent’s new church became a larger part of our day-to-day life. Looking back, it still felt fairly Christian at its core, just with some more elaborate window dressings. They even said a version of the Lord’s Prayer during services.

My personal experience in this church was a little different. When we started going, I was still fairly young to sit through the Sunday services, so I instead got to go to what was effectively Sunday school. I don’t remember much about what was taught, but at least I didn’t come home with nightmares.

As I got older, I was given the opportunity to sit with my parents during the service. However, I had a hard time sitting still and paying attention for that long. Whether I can blame that completely on my ADD is open for debate. It’s also possible that I just didn’t find the sermons that interesting. I will say this about my parent’s church, though: the music was pretty phenomenal.

So as my parents had searched, so too did I start searching. I took the more mystical aspects of my parent’s church and went one step further. That’s right, it’s time for the High School Pagan Phase!

I jumped in pretty strongly, too. I meditated regularly in front of my altar. I even attempted some rituals of my own, using props scrounged from what I had lying around. My altar was a white particleboard nightstand, my ritual dagger an ornate letter opener. My candles were glass votives from the grocery store. I started reading a lot, mostly about Celtic Shamanism and other new/old religious like Wicca.

I approached my research and practice dogmatically, trying out what I found in various books. But too often it felt like I was just going through the motions, doing things because I was told that was “the way it was done.” The rituals began to feel empty, and I found myself meditating less and less. I eventually came to the realization that maybe organized religion of any sort wasn’t for me.

I started to think of myself as “spiritual but not religious.”