"And so the question arose in the philosophy class, a row of eager, intelligent eyes looked at me and waited for my answer, but I was not sure whether they would comprehend my deepest of musings born from routine sobriety and the swirling patterns of enlightening intoxication.
"What do you believe?" said philosophy teacher Chris, in reference to the clichéd labels which he had scrawled up on the board so as to make a tally chart - atheist, theist, agnostic, spiritual or other.
Well I am certainly not a theist; the classical concept of God sickens me. Agnosticism is a cop-out waste of time and I dislike the perceived hopelessness of atheism, it it true or imagined. I am not fond of the label 'spiritual' as it too portrays wholly directionless and badly thought out arguments.
What is 'other'? I must be shoe-horned into this uncouth and discomforting category.
For my religion, if you wish to call it that, is a special unique thing, a distant cousin of the concepts of Brahman and pantheism without the theism. I do not worship, I become engulfed. I do not bow down, I become but a strand in Gaia's complex web. I do not pray, I know there is no one listening if I talk in my head, or even if I scream.
"Catching feathers, raising tadpoles, peeing in fields..." I idly listed disjointed features of such a belief.
Because my religion is everything. Literally every single little thing - existence on such a grand scale as a blue whale, which has a heart the size of a Corsa and a gullet wide enough to swim down, all the way down to the microscopic world that no one ever sees. Blood and bones but also memories, wishes, hopes and fears. Atrocities and triumphs of love and peace. Movement and stillness, blackness and white.
All of these things have a purpose in themselves and are already divine without having to deal with painful truths like the Inconsistent Triad. In a world of contingency, there are no unmoved movers, and mystery is a part of The Everything as well. Must one need a purpose outside space and time for emotion and achievement, regardless of Maya's illusion? It feels real.
But still, one must never get in too deep. These are, as I say, simply musings, a reflection on the intense bombardment upon my senses that is known by many names. I call it Life and I think it is amazing. It must never be forgotten, however, to stop and breathe and play your cards right.
After all... it's just a ride."
I wrote this when I was seventeen at the height of my philosophical education and to be honest, haven't been very philosophical since. Perhaps I should write something a little more fresh, a little less psilocybin-y.
"What do you believe?" said philosophy teacher Chris, in reference to the clichéd labels which he had scrawled up on the board so as to make a tally chart - atheist, theist, agnostic, spiritual or other.
Well I am certainly not a theist; the classical concept of God sickens me. Agnosticism is a cop-out waste of time and I dislike the perceived hopelessness of atheism, it it true or imagined. I am not fond of the label 'spiritual' as it too portrays wholly directionless and badly thought out arguments.
What is 'other'? I must be shoe-horned into this uncouth and discomforting category.
For my religion, if you wish to call it that, is a special unique thing, a distant cousin of the concepts of Brahman and pantheism without the theism. I do not worship, I become engulfed. I do not bow down, I become but a strand in Gaia's complex web. I do not pray, I know there is no one listening if I talk in my head, or even if I scream.
"Catching feathers, raising tadpoles, peeing in fields..." I idly listed disjointed features of such a belief.
Because my religion is everything. Literally every single little thing - existence on such a grand scale as a blue whale, which has a heart the size of a Corsa and a gullet wide enough to swim down, all the way down to the microscopic world that no one ever sees. Blood and bones but also memories, wishes, hopes and fears. Atrocities and triumphs of love and peace. Movement and stillness, blackness and white.
All of these things have a purpose in themselves and are already divine without having to deal with painful truths like the Inconsistent Triad. In a world of contingency, there are no unmoved movers, and mystery is a part of The Everything as well. Must one need a purpose outside space and time for emotion and achievement, regardless of Maya's illusion? It feels real.
But still, one must never get in too deep. These are, as I say, simply musings, a reflection on the intense bombardment upon my senses that is known by many names. I call it Life and I think it is amazing. It must never be forgotten, however, to stop and breathe and play your cards right.
After all... it's just a ride."I wrote this when I was seventeen at the height of my philosophical education and to be honest, haven't been very philosophical since. Perhaps I should write something a little more fresh, a little less psilocybin-y.
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