Today on facebook ...

Now, I'm not one to start trouble on facebook. Hell, I'm not even one to respond to trouble once it's been started, even though I am of the opinion that one should be prepared to take what they dish out. When it comes to my facebook friends, most of which are Christians, I pretty much allow them to freely ooze their nonsense all over my news feed. I post what I want too, but if it's too risque or controversial, I may not make it public to everyone. I think I am a giant wuss for this and certainly have more respect for those willing to post everything publicly. Still, this is not something I do in practice. I guess it's because I don't have the time or energy to deal with the drama it would likely cause. (*cough EXCUSE!)

You see, most of the Christians from my past (and present; thank you, facebook) are not the sophisticated kind. Dealing with them is often frustrating, meaningless and to be honest, depressing. Why do I have them on facebook, you ask? Well, I do have some good memories with a lot of them. Others, not so much - but I don't hate them or anything. I would feel awful mean deleting them. Yep, wuss.

So yes, my wussiness requires that I find a healthy outlet for the frustration that it is quietly taking such bullshit up the ass without as much as a yelp. Sex and blogging are good options, as far as displaced anger goes. I think it's always best, however, to attack problems head on. Diplomacy is admirable too, but I am that way far too often for it to be a good thing. For me, it tends to be an excuse to hide rather than anything respectable. Plus, being diplomatic does not have to mean staying silent, as it usually does for me. Since I usually rob myself of the opportunity to say what I mean, it was nice to stumble across the chance this morning.

See, I am a fan of a facebook page called 'Fundies Say the Darndest Things', where they expose the insanity that goes on in close-knit fundie circles. It was kind of a place for me to vent freely, until I realized that my comments are actually public to all of my friends. (thank you, news feed ticker!) Oh well. It felt great. Maybe this is the start of something beautiful! ^.^ My comment is still pretty friendly, but being freely atheist in the presence of Christians is new to me, so it feels like a big deal. I hope to find some sort of a healthy balance between the confidence express myself honestly and humble diplomacy.

Life without God's Love is like a Donut

Apparently, our lives are like donuts and Jesus is like ... a munchkin? I've always loved munchkins! I'm kind of a bit of a health nut these days, but I remember as a child looking forward breakfast at church. Someone would always bring something good - sometimes it was coffee cake, other times, muffins. Most often, however, it would be a box of donuts, considering the local Dunkin Donuts happened to be right across the street. Munchkins were bought typically for the youngsters, but they were always my personal favorites.

I think munchkins are special because they are the shape of fun - sweet little balls of dough joy! The original donut is also fun in its own right, being round as well with a happy little hole in the center. What separates typical donuts from the kinds with cream or jelly filling and other pastries is the hole. That hole is what makes the donut awesome! The dough ball from which the hole was created would be no fun at all had it never been removed!

What I make of the donut/life analogy: if you want to have fun with life, remove Jesus and eat him separately. (^_-)

So, about the 'hole in the middle of our hearts' ...? I say, what of it? Jesus won't fill that hole unless you really want him to. For some people, art fills that hole. For others, music. There is always more than just one hole, too.

Christians, don't kid yourselves - filling it with the idea of supernatural love instead of that unsatisfying worldly stuff does not set you apart. It makes you the same as everyone else, only with the addition of an inflated ego to go along with your choice of filling. Not to mention the ultimate denial of that ego, as you hide behind the idea of a supernatural god, expressing your own fear and desire in the form of his love or judgement.

No matter what you fill your hole with, there will always be another. When you fill it with God, it just becomes natural to believe that future holes are simply 'moments of weakness'. You fill it with the same old stuff after each weak moment and it becomes a comfortable pattern for you.

It may feel nice to be comfy cozy, but you can't make a discovery unless you test your limits. For that, you must go out and explore. You may feel at times as though you are in fact exploring, but 'journeying' while locked inside the same frame of mind is kind of like painting the walls or rearranging the furniture. To journey, you must be willing to think outside the box your mind urges you to stay within.

There is always something new to learn about yourself within these holes and the possibilities are endless. Holes are naturally scary - we just can't stand the idea of not knowing what 's at that bottom. On some level, we'd all rather rely on a satisfying idea that has no evidence than go through life not knowing the answer or if we'll ever figure it out for sure. Where would we be as a whole if everyone gave into this fear? Isaac Newton, Einstein, Christoper Columbus (even if he was an asshole, he did question and crush a set belief) and even the evil Darwin?

It is only natural to be a little uncomfortable or even scared of these gaps in our understanding. It's a sad thing to let that fear rule your life and even sadder to try and push it onto others. To then view anyone for expressing a curiosity and willingness to face the world as inferior seems to be the next step, which is just backwards and quite simply, bullying. Why all of that? If you stick with the uncomfortable stuff and face the scary feelings, the journey can be fun and discoveries, deeply satisfying. No, it doesn't soothe your fear or your ego, but if you wait it out it can do so much more!

I don't know about you, but I am at peace with my holes - and that's without Jesus!

Happy Zombie Jesus Day!

The actual Easter card I received from my parents this year was refreshingly simple and surprisingly non-religious. What was inside is another story, but I'll get to that in a bit. Thankfully, the days where I'm bombarded with letters/notes/cards, on about a monthly basis, packed full of constant reminders of how sinful I am are long behind me. Still, holiday cards are almost always an excuse to 'remind me of my roots' - you know, because I'm likely to forget 18 years of emotional abuse via fundamental Christianity now that I live nearly 200 miles away from it. Never-mind the 'godly-residue' that still lingers in the crevices of my brain that I just can't seem to reach enough to scrub clean! ^_-

For the sake of optimism, I must emphasize that these little attempts to remind are are far better than those old 'wall-of-death' style paragraphs about how nothing good can come from such a sinful path as mine but that when I'm ready to repent, I'd will be welcomed back with open arms. (do you feel the love? I do!) Yes, I was even referred to as the 'prodigal daughter' for that ordeal. ^_^

I suppose I can tolerate being subtly poked with 'creationism', as the 'surprise' in my Easter card was (are ya ready for this?!) a map of the Creation Museum my parents had traveled over 500 miles to visit at some point last week. A map, I suppose, to show how wonderful and respected the place was (in past e-mails, as this museum trip had been mentioned to some degree in each of the 7 most recent messages, it was especially emphasized how this place was 'growing' and at such an alarming rate) and a business card containing the link to 'Answers in Genesis', I guess to show me (or remind me, rather) just how 'factual' the concept of creationism 'really is'. (Ugh, certain 'chick tracks' we used to have lying around the house come to mind ...)

Oh, how I have certainly not forgotten! (I wish I were that lucky!) In fact, even as I'd left Christianity years ago, I've only just begun to learn the very basics of evolution. (Special thanks to Jerry Coyne and the analyst for suggesting him!) Having been home-schooled for all of high-school, I'd never been exposed to the theory. All I 'knew' was that it was 'silly', 'evil', and of course, 'completely false'. In fact, I can even remember being a child of 7 or so, watching a science channel on tv with my father. Whenever they would mention the earth being millions of years old, he'd yell 'faaaaaaalse!" loudly at the television in the silly voice he always used when making fun of evolutionists. This eventually became my own reflex as well, as I looked up to him very much.

When I was quite a bit older and dating my 'unchurched' boyfriend of the time, my dad had him watch a sickening evolutionist/creationist debate (Moody Science Films) with us, where the evolutionist was made to be a complete dumbass against the star creationist, who was a little too good to be true, to put it mildly. If only I could re-watch that video now (not really), it'd surely irk me more, being a bit more knowledgeable of the subject. Still, even as a sheltered 16-year-old, I could easily spot the 'unfairness' of the situation, as well as sense that some things were a bit 'off' even if I couldn't quite put my finger on them. Of course I denied it at the time, but it's nice to know that my BS detector was at least doing its job!

For now, I choose to ignore any comments from my parents about creation/evolution. We are only in contact via e-mail, so it's not terribly difficult to respond only to the parts I feel like responding to while simply ignoring the absurd. It's not really a subject I am ready to confront them on anyway. People only resist facts so strongly in favor of bullshit when they have a strong reason to - even if it's an awful reason like the fear of reality. I don't intend to change their minds, partly because I don't think I ever could. Every time they nudge me with their delusional worldview, I recall many things: the stupid christian science films, the chick tracks, e.e. (evangelism explosion), bible camp, and other various headaches from my past. Most importantly though, I am reminded of my decision to leave and am thankful for the freedom I now have to explore this intriguing world without fear.

I do just wish, however, that the money going into this museum's life-size replica of Noah's Ark could go to something a little more important ... or at the very least, something less insane!

Jesus Loves Bukake!

I may have kicked Jesus out of my soul (Okay, maybe not kicked, exactly ... fear of change kept me pretty gentle and patient for that ordeal! ^_-) but the holy spirit can come on me any time he likes. Sadly, I doubt he ever will - I'm not exactly the type of gal he'd want to give a facial to. While I do have a submissive streak about me, it's not prominent enough to satisfy his bukake cravings. Nah, I think I'm more the type he likes to 'watch'!

In all seriousness (sort of), even back when Jesus was my personal soul-dweller, I never felt his power deep within. I had faith that it was pure truth even when some things didn't make sense, but I could never get to quite the level of many of my friends, some of whom would practically cream their panties over the power of his love. Why them and not I? Some say it's because I was never truly saved, which is apparently the only way to explain my leaving the light ("once saved, always saved", they say!) It's what they have to believe, I guess, in order to justify their precious bullshit: "If it didn't fulfill her too, it must not be for everyone. WAIT NO, SCARY EASTERN PHILOSOPHY, LALALA, THAT CAN'T BE IT!" *ahem* but that's a rant for another day!

Anyway, I was sure there must be something wrong with me, that I wasn't a good enough Christian, perhaps. Was I not praying enough? Was I masturbating too much!? Fellow Christians certainly never said anything to deter me from such a degrading line of thought. I was never good enough. No one was though - it's just that they were more okay with that idea than I ever was. I did accept it for sure, but in me it set off the bullshit alarm that I'd always ignored, fearing that such an exploration would lead me astray (which it did indeed, and thankfully so)!

It didn't even cross my mind, at the time, that maybe I was simply less emotional than some of my friends. I was also more inquisitive, which is a trait I have come to respect, both in myself and in others. Unfortunately, back then it served only as another guilt trigger - what a shame! If I decide to put my baby maker to use one day, I will be sure to help nourish such wonderful traits in my own children - there's certainly no shame in wanting to make sense of your world!

I came alive the day that I left God and all of his baggage behind. I thrive on the freedom to explore my own thoughts rather than ignore or hide from them, and I am more than okay with that now. While I know the Jesus juice can be a powerful drug for some, I'd rather live life sober. A little blasphemy is a nice high to spice things up now and again, but where it counts, knowledge is power!

Come to think of it, maybe there is some Jesus bukake in my future. I'd resist of course, so it'd have to be bondage style, yeaaa that would teach me! hmm ... sounds more like a job for his dad ... :)

Atheism is a Scary Word!

As of now, I do not believe in any gods, or an afterlife. At the same time, I don't think anyone can know can know any of these things for sure. This makes me an Agnostic Atheist. I secretly hope reincarnation is true, but recognize this as an after-life fantasy, one to ease the fear of death. While it's fun to think about from time to time, I could never in good conscience obsess over it. I like to be comfortable, but I think it's only possible to progress when the mind is out of its comfort zone. As much as I love comfort (and ohhh, I reeeally do!), progression is better in the long run and must be my top priority.

I've considered myself, both publicly and personally, more strongly agnostic than atheist, even sometimes denying the atheism all together; lately, I have been wondering why. So far, I've concluded a couple of things. First is that I am, on some level, afraid to fully consider myself an atheist. I am more afraid to admit it to others than I am to myself, but there is discomfort to be found in both instances.

Why would I be afraid when I know what atheism is? It seems silly on the surface. I know that atheists are not 'Ebeneezer Scrooges', bitter and angry at God', as implied by many of the Christians in my past. I know what it's like to think from a Christian mindset - and that from that point of view, it's difficult or even impossible to step outside of oneself enough to realize: just because you love God, it does not mean that someone who refuses to share that passion is simply angry at your God. The possibility does not come to mind that one could be indifferent toward a supposed God while frustrated with the negative effects of a strong belief in such a being. This is a benefit to the logical position: it does not have to get in the way of an emotional view, but it allows one to see beyond it, if needed (and it's always a good practice to analyze emotions). Even the more logical Christian (yes, they do exist), while able to analyze other aspects of his/her life, must turn off the brain in the area of (his/her) religion, in light of the faith requirement.

As a Christian, I did also notice the anger toward Christianity among atheists which, in my mind at the time, justified the 'angry atheist' argument. Now, I know (from my own experience as well as examples from others') that it's not God they have a problem with. I'm sure there are rebellious teenagers (for example) out there, going through anti-God phases, claiming atheism, the most opposing view they can find -- but that's irrelevant, considering the true definition (of atheism). I am sure, however, that when such individuals are welcomed back into the church, it only confirms to the Christian that the 'anger' theory is correct.

No - an atheist's anger is not toward God, or even toward Christian/religious individuals (usually). Their anger is more often concerning religion in general, because of how it is affecting humanity as a whole. The fact of the matter is that atheism is the logical position; it is irrational to believe in God; especially with such a fiery passion. Christianity on the other hand feeds on human emotion. Free-thinkers must aggressively fight for progression because there are still people out there, too afraid of reality and change, to abandon ideas that no longer apply. It is frustrating, to say the least, for the those involved in the effort to update the laws/views in light of what we now know. We can't move forward because the majority still refuses to look past their own comforts and feelings enough to adapt and improve.

This brings me back to the main question: why am I still afraid of the term (atheist)? Even though I am more concerned with progression and that the fact that we can't know anything for sure about the 'supernatural' (so why obsess?), it is still true that I don't believe in a God/gods. That means, however weak or strong, I am an ATHEIST! I think awareness of the misconceptions of atheism (having been so heavily exposed to them) is the main reason behind the natural tendency to avoid being associated with the term. The better solution would be to stand up for what the word really means, and to clear up any misconceptions that pop up along the way. That would require of me a willingness to defeat my inner wimp; the scared little Christian girl who avoids confrontation at all costs. It would mean getting out of my comfort zone, the very thing I claim to stand for.

Another reason (in conjunction with the former) I consider is that the misrepresented idea toward atheism was so ingrained, certain negative associations to the term still linger fruitlessly, much like the irrational guilt that I also deal with, despite all knowledge gained.

It's such an odd experience - living most of my life with a delusional view of the world, knowing nothing else ... and then gradually learning to break away, seeing what the bubble looks like from the outside. I do like that I have two different perspectives on the matter, but at the same time, it's been hard on my mind. The mind loves its comforts. It craves what's known and what's familiar. It can even bury memories that it would rather not deal with. In such a case, it could be a lot of work to bring them to the surface, but psychologists know that sometimes it is what's needed in order for the patient to heal and grow in a better direction. I think of how hard it is for ME, someone desperately trying (and struggling every step of the way) to fight MYSELF, and all of the instincts that get in the way of progression; just to think, at the very same time, there are millions of people fighting to justify these fears, giving them positive names, tying them with pretty little ribbons, and even selling them ... well, it makes me sick to my stomach.

Bottom line: I need to beat this fear! I am no longer blinded by 'the light'; there's no excuse. Staying silent, denying truths ... I think it makes me just as bad or worse than the Christians I speak against.

Relationships with Xtians? o_0

I've recently been thinking of former Xtian friends. (I say former, but they are still 'friends' on facebook. I am actually a bit torn as to whether or not I'd like to change that, but I'll save that rant for another day!) I should mention that I am well past the pain I'd felt years ago for having left these friends behind, but the relationship I aim to maintain with my father has got me wondering how far it can really go. This all has led to the re-evaluation of friendships with Xtians of the past. One in particular, we'll call her Jovie, was undeniably one of the best friends I've ever had.

A little background information: It has always been a struggle for me to open up to people, likely due to the many 'sinful' urges I'd always felt pressured into holding back (sexuality of course, but in this case: the urge to doubt, to question, and to think for myself). Now, there were some Xtians I can recall that were stuffy or even downright mean to anyone who dared to question, blatantly viewing them as inferior/sinful. I must also remember those that made an effort to, at the very least, appear understanding as they attempted to ease the doubts or even understand. While I appreciate the kinder approaches of these individuals (obviously having sense enough know, at least on some buried level, that questioning is not in fact evil), there is no getting around that a 'child-like faith' is what is most highly praised in the Bible, as the term 'doubting Thomas' has definite negative connotations in Xtian circles.

That said, I'd always refrained from opening up even to close friends about certain things, because of the fear that they might judge harshly. Obviously, I'm speaking of religious concerns, but it went deeper than that; this fear infected the core of my being. Not only was I nervous of doubts concerning God/Jesus/the Bible/Xtians, but I became uneasy whenever I had an opinion of my own. I still spoke up from time to time within the home, if it was a non-religious differing opinion (although, my parents found ways to apply religion to everything, as 'good' Xtians often do), but that was linked to the knowledge that I may never be 'acceptable' by my mother's standards. I'd learned that early on and gradually became more and more concerned with finding acceptance outside of the home. I don't think it would be fair to blame religion entirely for my wimpish tendencies. I do however think the supposed 'positive' aspects of religion never did appeal to my personality type while the negative ones latched onto the insecurities connected to my timid nature, and fed on them like a leech.

Back on topic: I met Jovie at church, the only place I was encouraged (and eventually the only place I was permitted) to engage in social interaction aside from family, Xtian events, and acceptable extended family. We clicked on many 'important' levels (spiritual included, at the time), but more importantly an intellectual one, which was new for me. My other 'close' friends of the time had either taken it to such a shallow level that they may as well have been 'of the world' or they were more emotional than logical (not the brightest crayons...) thusly using religion as more of an emotional high. Jovie was not overly emotional and was in fact level-headed and rather bright. She took her faith seriously, but didn't get on weird levels with it the way another friend of mine did (Jesus orgasm, anyone?). She was far more bubbly than I, more confident and outgoing while also less questioning and a bit less imaginative. However, we thought on such similar levels and in such similar ways, which made me feel more connected to her than any other friend. All in all, I felt as though we balanced each other out quite nicely.

Could I have still been friends with her today? Could we still connect the way we used to, even as I want nothing anymore to do with religion? For me, the intellectual aspects of our conversations meant far more than the 'spiritual', which I, even as a serious Xtian, could never feel deeply to begin with (it was always rather forced). I can never know because I chose to assume that our friendship could not continue and acted accordingly. I'd already concluded that she could not handle the changes in me, and kept contact light and shallow until there was nothing left. It hurt, and I knew that I was hurting her too, but decided it was for the best. I robbed her the opportunity to try and understand. Maybe I was right. Perhaps one of the biggest connectors in her mind was in fact the 'spiritual' one. That certainly is often the case, and the reason behind the former fundamentalist's struggle associated with 'loss of community'. Still, I should not have chosen for her. Could I have been the one to provoke within in her the need to question, even her beliefs? She may not have had reason to doubt (she was not as abused by religion as was I, and we are prone only to change what we can tell affects us negatively) but she certainly had the capacity to see from another angle, if needed. I know that I made a mistake, but this is much more a lesson learned than a regret.

Even though I know it is important to give people a fair chance (those who have earned it, that is), I am still a bit uncertain as to how to handle certain quirks within the Atheist/Christian relationship. Should I really have the Creationism vs Evolution debate with my father, even though he, based on information slipped from our conversations, wants so desperately to believe that the nice things in the Bible are true? I'm not so sure about my mother, but I know that my dad genuinely loves me as his "feisty" (yes, as timid as I am, every so often my inner 'whipper-snapper' comes to surface) daughter and that nothing could change that. Still, the core of his belief system requires him to look at people through those black and white "believer-or-non-believer" lenses. This suggests a superiority complex, whether subtle or strong. Would this not get in the way of having a healthy relationship? I think as to what extent depends on one's personality (i.e. my mother is emotional and eccentric, so it gets in the way much more with us. My dad on the other hand is calm and level-headed). Still, it is just unfortunate that something as worthless as an outdated, fear-based mindset gets in the way at all.