July 31, 2015
So, for some reason, ever since I moved into my new home, I feel like I’ve been slipping out of my liminal addiction. I’m not sure what exactly is this new stage I’m entering into, but it seems like I’m about to find out.
I thought the addiction would last a lot longer. Glad it didn’t.
July 6, 2015
I once commented long ago how lost I felt and someone told me that I was experiencing a “liminal” stage. I was aware of leaving the old behind and embracing the new, but I wasn’t aware of this transitional stage. The person was right. It fit. And knowing that made me feel better. I knew that a new stage in my life was just around the corner.
Lately, though, I’ve wondered if I’ve purposely turned to that liminal stage as a place for comfort. How does a person find comfort in the feeling of being lost? Escape. Escape can be comforting.
As scary as they may be I still love new stages for the simple fact that they replace the old stages. But the new stage is a new reality to live in, to struggle in. I use to be uncomfortable with the struggle I experienced in myself in the liminal stage, but now it’s the struggle in new stages that I’m most uncomfortable with.
May 12, 2015
No idea how long these videos will stay available, but I thought juxtaposing them here was worth it.
November 28, 2014
NAVEL GAZING ALERT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! :p
Every time I hear Leonard Cohen’s “If It Be Your Will” I think of whatever chaotic, repressed thoughts in the heart of who we are singing to the orderly part of us that polices our views, controls our perspectives.
I don’t think the orderly/policing part of us was meant to be our enemy, but instead, meant to help us function among other people, to be practical for the group. But when that pursuit of practicality buries the chaotic part of us that feels different than the norm, that questions the status quo, that challenges the established culture, that disturbs the manufactured peace…
…it can’t be healthy. Not for long, anyway.
It’s so easy for me to say this, but I think the chaotic part of us should be heard despite the consequences. It may take a lot of work to resurrect, understand and appreciate this part of us, but it is the raw nature of who we are! It is unpolished authenticity at it’s finest, don’t you think?
July 31, 2014
“There is no better method.” I agree.
I suppose the challenge is that, despite the “wonder” (or awe) we may experience through humanity’s use of the scientific method, it’s still not as personally satisfying for a lot of people unless “God” is considered to be a part of our reality.
But this is where I think humanism also plays a strong role in the lives of the non-believer. It’s about encouraging ourselves (and others?) to seek and find what is personally satisfying in our natural world. And it’s more than just satisfying our fives senses. It’s also about finding new perspectives in life that change our priorities or highlight different values.
The longer we live, the more we see that personal satisfaction is not always easy, or simple. Discovering our own place in the bigger picture of inclusivity and diversity leads not only to finding purpose and meaning for one’s own life but also leads to an awareness of various de-humanizing actions against one another. Being faced with a myriad of social responsibilities are overwhelming and not something we had in mind when seeking personal satisfaction.
Hope in a “God” may ease this burden for a lot of people and inspire them to keep moving forward – a result that I think is worth appreciation. But what also needs appreciation is how non-believers build up the courage to move forward without that ethereal belief.
We find hope in all sorts of places for all sorts of burdens. It can start with simply hearing the words, “It gets better” from those with similar burdens, similar stories that can help us get through the next day. We may find hope by taking action, getting involved by creating public awareness, and supporting a grass roots movement to bring about change. We may find hope through the pursuit of educating ourselves, learning more about the burdens we face, where they came from, who’s involved, how has the matter evolved over time. We might seek political change through our votes, and letters to our representatives. Or maybe we just need to step back a bit, read a book or go to the lake, have a beer with friends and then return to face our burdens with a little more strength.
For a lot of people, no matter how unrealistic “God” may seem to be, he is still the ultimate default in times of trouble, the cherished “go-to” when things get tough. God may not be the only go-to, mind you, but anything else is too weak for personal satisfaction. Maybe it’s all just a different version of “stepping back”, an escapism or respite from the natural world? I don’t know. The result is that people find a way to move forward one way or another. And that’s nothing to scoff at.
In the end, when we feel less burdened, I think we need to remind ourselves to reflect on the different means we turn to in order to gain new found courage. Because it’s an opportunity to evaluate and keep in mind our best options for seeking inspiration and hope during those times when we need it most.
Not surprisingly, I prefer the natural reality over a supernatural one, and I encourage others to do the same. Because, along with the scientific affirmation of it’s true existence, we know it works. We know that somewhere, in our natural reality, we can find hope, and so can anyone else.
January 19, 2014
While watching Frozen, the latest Disney movie Emma is obsessed over, I’ve been thinking about the not-so-warm and fuzzy-feelin’ connotations attributed to ‘critical thinking’. I’ve even made a connection between the two. I know, I’m weird that way. (I don’t actually think there was any intention to portray a view of critical thinking in this movie, but I’ve used it as such.)
Frozen is about Elsa, a princess with a power inside of her so overwhelming the power is feared more for it’s destructive abilities than for it’s ability to make things of beauty. Which is why she is encouraged to keep the power hidden from others and herself. The fear of her power is so great that Elsa is lead to believe that hiding the power can only be accomplished if she isolates herself from others, even her younger sister Anna, who wants nothing more than the warmth of a loving relationship with her older sister. Eventually, Elsa’s responsibilities to care for others, especially her throw-caution-into-the-wind sister Anna, make it impossible to hide who she is, to hide the power within her.
Elsa’s power is the power of cold. And I see her power as a metaphor for an exceptional power to reason, or better yet, an exceptional and passionate power to think critically. And even though Anna doesn’t have any super powers, I look at her as a representation of the oldest power known to humanity itself, the power of attachments, the power of love (awwww).
A song that really stands out in this movie is Let It Go. It’s a great part of the movie. Finally, Elsa got out of her own prison to find a safe place to completely be herself, discovering her creative potential and exercising her poetic ingenuity. As sad as it is to trade one form of isolation for another (because everyone needs companionship of some sort), this latter form of isolation provided the greatest freedom she’s ever had.
But, eventually (spoiler alert), we learn that Elsa and Anna should have never been separated in the first place. In hindsight, we see that Elsa without Anna is far more susceptible to hurting someone with her power, and Anna without Elsa is far more susceptible to trust unwittingly in people or situations that are unreliable.
Elsa is the reasoning potential within us to think critically, the part of us that hungers for any knowledge that will clarify our understanding of things. But, critical thinking also has the power to take apart well-meaning, thoughtful constructs that we grow attached to. It doesn’t make you feel safe and secure. At least, not in the beginning. Critical thinking can challenge the strength of our relationships, testing us to see if we really know what we love, revealing overlooked knowledge that may change our feelings for what we are deeply attached to. Admittedly, safety is tentative in the critical thinker’s world. But future respites of safety may be stronger, built on higher probabilities, even more secure than what we’ve relied on in the past.
Anna is the part of us open to experiences of love and all the different feelings that come with personal attachments. But, the power of love can overlook any short-comings to the point that there is no resemblance of clear thinking, only the desire to remain attached, remain committed, to trust, to have faith, to be certain of feeling secure and safe whether you are or not. Admittedly, without the power of critical thinking, one’s safety or security can be over-estimated, even delusional, yet unwavering. But, if the power of love would combine itself with the power of critical thinking, hope would be more than just sentimental. Hope would become a realistic driving force in the pursuit of our goals, our dreams.
I apologize if I’ve ruined the movie for anyone who has beared with me on this daydreaming venture. Chances are, I’ve created a false dichotomy here and maybe should’ve left it alone instead of dissecting a children’s movie. On the other hand, I’ve followed one of the many meanderings in my mind and decided that my blog is a safe place to just let it go.
January 13, 2014
Richard Carrier gives us an intelligent and compassionate look at the facts…
Humanity has gathered volumes of factual knowledge that unintentionally, but overwhelmingly contradicts the imaginative world of Christian faith.
The only hope for me to become a believer again is if I lost all memory of, and repeatedly ignored learning about, these kinds of facts and their logical conclusions.
Because, seriously, these conclusions are a tremendous challenge to the presumed characteristics of God!
January 7, 2014
When I saw this meme, I contemplated what might be the best responses I would hear from a believer. The first one that came to mind was, “Atheists’ standards for proof are too high.” And then my atheist response to that was, “Does anyone need proof of the existence of earth? Why can’t God be as recognizable to every human being as the earth we stand on?”
And then I thought of another believer response to the meme…
“It’s not that God can’t prove his existence, it’s that he chooses not to. From my experience, God wanted my natural need of him to seek him out.”
I have to admit, I felt a sense of accomplishment when I came up with this one. It asks the atheist to think of a personal need for God, and according to the believer, whatever pops in the atheist’s mind would be personal evidence of God reaching out to the atheist!
But then, what kind of God would an atheist need? I don’t think any atheist like myself would need any biblical version of a God. So then “God” really isn’t any particular supreme being. “God” represents the cliche “wish fulfillment”.
Sure. I “wish” there were a lot of things different in this world of ours. But then I have to think realistically about my desires. What kind of change is worth hoping for? And it’s this question that becomes less of a cosmic pursuit for me, and more of a social, humanist pursuit. For me, “God” doesn’t fit into this practical pursuit.