The past few days, I've become permeated with a feeling that so much of what we all experience in this life is pointless.
I watched a movie last night about a teenage boy's experience joining the Nazi regime in the 1940s. I watched the time, thought, and emotion invested by thousands into the Nazi way of life, and I thought...how pointless. Those years of those people's lives were wasted on foolish thinking and foolish motives and foolish rituals. Foolish causes. It was a waste of their time.
I've been thinking about the time and money so many Americans invest in getting ready for the Christmas holiday, and it seems so pointless. They hang the lights, they shop for gifts, they make Christmas cookies. For what reason?
I used to believe firmly in the Christian religion. I heard various Christians make the argument that without a belief in a higher power, life is pointless and therefor without hope. I think I am experiencing that right now. I feel as though our mourning over the deaths of others is an overreaction, considering that life on our planet has supposedly existed for billions of years. The loss of one human life, or even hundreds or thousands of lives, in context, is miniscule. Over the past week, television stations have aired stories about the death of actor John Travolta's 16-year-old son. My reaction has been: I don't care! At some level it seems that I am not "supposed" to react this way; but the reality is I never knew John Travolta's son. I've never known John Travolta. Many, many people die every day on this planet. Why should I feel especially sad about the particular death of an actor's son whom I've never met? I would be curious to hear somebody try to give me one logical explanation as to why I should have any emotional investment in the death of John Travolta's son's death.
So I'm feeling pessimistic about the grand scheme of life. Why value honesty? Why try to help people? I don't know. But I will say this: if the reality of our situation is that nothing lies beyond this life; if this is all there is; if there is no higher power and no heaven or hell beyond this life...then that's what it is. Just because it's depressing or hopeless doesn't mean it's not true. A Christian might say, "Life would be hopeless if there was no God in control, so I choose to believe in God." But I would counter that sometimes reality is positive, and sometimes it is negative. Just because something isn't appealing to us doesn't mean it's not a reality. A person might find the prospect of rain to be depressing; that doesn't mean the weather person should predict clear skies and sunshine. The reality is that sometimes it rains!
I read a quote this week that I am very fond of. It goes something like this: "Philosophical suicide is accepting comforting answers to unanswerable questions." I think that sometimes the most comforting answers are bullshit.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Thursday, December 25, 2008
I'm a Scrooge?
It's true. I'm 32-years-old, and I am no longer the excited child who used to overflow with anticipation for Christmas Eve. I now know for certain that Santa Claus is not real. There are no packages that arrive under the tree on Christmas Eve that say "From: SANTA".
I try to convince myself, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, that Christmas is worth getting excited about. I start to listen to Christmas music on the radio to help put me in the mood. I imagine in my mind that on Christmas I will will be sitting down with my wife and my family of origin, drinking wine and playing board games, and we are all smiling and laughing and feeling content. I imagine that all of us will have a relaxing few days together, reading books, going sledding, telling stories, watching the snow fall, etc.
And then Christmas quickly arrives. The run-up to Christmas does not feel as long as it did when I was younger. It sneaks up on me now. And when it arrives, it does not feel like anything special. When I arrive at my parents' home, dinner is being prepared. Soon it is time to eat. Then gifts are opened. But the gift-opening ceremony is not what it used to be. I feel a small level of anticipation/excitement leading up to the event, and then I realize that we have been doing this for roughly 30 years. It is so predictable. It follows the script. We open packages of socks, with everyone watching, and say things like, "Oh! That's awesome! These are perfect! Thank you so much!" Then we look at the package of socks for an extra moment to convey how in awe of the gift we are. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was just telling Joe I needed!"
"Awesome."
And then the next person goes through the same ritual.
Do my feelings of gradual disappointment in our American Christmas tradtions make me a Scrooge? I suppose they do. I intentionally avoided the tradtional Christmas Eve church service this year, which has been a staple of my family's Christmas Eve routine since I was a little boy. I just didn't see the point. I'm no longer a Christian, so I wouldn't be going for a religious purpose. I could have gone to please my family, but how true to myself would I be to suffer through an hour or two of a sermon I've heard repeatedly throughout my lifetime? I know how the pastor's sermon will go: there was a baby born of a virgin. His name was Jesus. He was the greatest gift God could ever give us. Then we all stand and sing songs about the story we just heard. Then we all go home. I don't think I can go through that anymore.
Maybe if or when I have children the excitement will return.
I try to convince myself, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, that Christmas is worth getting excited about. I start to listen to Christmas music on the radio to help put me in the mood. I imagine in my mind that on Christmas I will will be sitting down with my wife and my family of origin, drinking wine and playing board games, and we are all smiling and laughing and feeling content. I imagine that all of us will have a relaxing few days together, reading books, going sledding, telling stories, watching the snow fall, etc.
And then Christmas quickly arrives. The run-up to Christmas does not feel as long as it did when I was younger. It sneaks up on me now. And when it arrives, it does not feel like anything special. When I arrive at my parents' home, dinner is being prepared. Soon it is time to eat. Then gifts are opened. But the gift-opening ceremony is not what it used to be. I feel a small level of anticipation/excitement leading up to the event, and then I realize that we have been doing this for roughly 30 years. It is so predictable. It follows the script. We open packages of socks, with everyone watching, and say things like, "Oh! That's awesome! These are perfect! Thank you so much!" Then we look at the package of socks for an extra moment to convey how in awe of the gift we are. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was just telling Joe I needed!"
"Awesome."
And then the next person goes through the same ritual.
Do my feelings of gradual disappointment in our American Christmas tradtions make me a Scrooge? I suppose they do. I intentionally avoided the tradtional Christmas Eve church service this year, which has been a staple of my family's Christmas Eve routine since I was a little boy. I just didn't see the point. I'm no longer a Christian, so I wouldn't be going for a religious purpose. I could have gone to please my family, but how true to myself would I be to suffer through an hour or two of a sermon I've heard repeatedly throughout my lifetime? I know how the pastor's sermon will go: there was a baby born of a virgin. His name was Jesus. He was the greatest gift God could ever give us. Then we all stand and sing songs about the story we just heard. Then we all go home. I don't think I can go through that anymore.
Maybe if or when I have children the excitement will return.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Some new thoughts on polygamous marriages
About six or seven years ago I came to the conclusion that banning gay marriages made no logical sense and was wrong. I was attending a conservative Christian college at the time, and was surrounded by people who believed homosexuality was a sin. I shared that belief, but nonetheless concluded that it was not right to base laws of our country on my religious beliefs. Years later, I would change my mind and cease to think of homosexuality as sin. I would also cease to be a Christian.
Last night I was thinking about this topic. I was thinking of an (insensitive) argument I have heard opponents of gay marriage make, which goes something like this: "Allowing homosexuals to marry will begin a slippery slope; if we accept homosexual marriages, what will stop us from having to accept marriages between HUMANS AND ANIMALS?!" As ridiculous (and insulting) as this argument is, I have nonetheless come up with a simple and logical rebuttal: the majority of Americans agree with the notion that marriage should be between consenting parties. Animals have no way of understanding what marriage is, and they have no way of consenting to a marriage. Therefore, marriages between people and animals will never be a legitmate issue for debate in America because it would be opposed by the masses AND, more importantly, it would be clearly unethical.
This reasoning led me to another argument I have heard from opponents of legalized gay marriage. This argument (again) relies on the over-utilized slippery-slope angle. It goes something like this: "If we legalize homosexual marriages, what will stop us from legalizing polygamous marriages?!?" And it dawned on me last night: That's a good point!
But it's not a good point in opposition to legalizing gay marriages. It's actually a good argument for the legalization of polygamous marriage. Yup, I said it. There doesn't seem to be a good logical argument to make for banning polygamous marriages. (If you are experiencing uncomfortableness or disbelief at this time, I challenge you to consider that this is probably because you have been raised in a culture that views polygamists along the same moral grade as rapists and pedafiles. Interestingly, our culture once also group homosexuals into this category...sadly some individuals and groups still do.)
Consider first that polygamous marriages, so far as I know, do not cause any more potential harm to the willing parties than do traditional, heterosexual marriages(assuming each party is a willing participant). This cannot be said of a marriage between, say, a human and animal (the animal is being committed to the relationship without its consent) or between an adult and a child (children are not developmentally able, cognitively or emotionally, to truly give informed consent to a legal marriage). Secondly, the only arguments against legalized polygamous marriage, it seems to me, have to be based on either (a)religious beliefs, (b)the "tradition argument," or (c) slippery slope arguments.
Argument "A" (religion) has no legs to stand on. First, which religion should we base our laws on? The Taliban believes laws should be based on Islamic Law. Surely we are not willing to accept Islamic Law as the basis for American law (ask the women of Afghanistan how that worked out for them). What about basing our laws on Christianity's teachings? The Bible states that adultery occurs when a man marries a divorced woman (The Apostle Paul says so clearly in the New Testament), and adultery is listed in the Bible as a sin. So banning the practice of getting re-married after a divorce would have to become illegal in our country. (I'm dumbfounded that I have yet to hear anybody point this out. How quickly would conservative American Christians back off on wanting gay marriages legalized if they realized how hypocritcal they were being.) What would the legal penalties be for people who broke the laws of having lustful thoughts, lying, worshiping other gods, taking God's name in vain, etc. (these are listed as sins in the Bible)? Would the cops cite me for saying "Goddamnit!" as I stub my toe on a public curb?
Argument "B" (tradition) has a nasty history in American life. Some traditions are healthy, of course, but laws based simply on tradition's sake unfortunately have an amazing propensity to stop us from progressing as a society. America clearly has had many regretable "traditions" in its relatively short history. Here is just a small sample: selling Africans as slaves to white families; prohibiting women from voting; not allowing races to intermarry; not allowing blacks to drink from the same fountains as whites; slaughtering and stealing land from Native Americans; paying equally-qualified women significantly less in wages than men who do the same work (this is still a rampant problem today. Research is very clear on this.). All of these practices would continue today in America were it not for individuals brave enough to buck tradition and declare that change was needed.
Argument "C" (slippery slope), I have a problem with because this kind of argument often fails to address the specific issue at hand. Let's use, as an example, the decision to allow American women to vote. A slippery slope argument can easily be made to oppose a woman's right to vote. It might go something like this: "If we allow women the right to vote, then what's to stop the next generation from allowing African-Americans to vote?" (This reminds me of my argument for why polygamous marriages should be legalized. Of course African Americans should be allowed to vote. There is no logical reason to deny them that right.) "If we allow women to vote, we'll have to let African-Americans vote! And if we allow African-Americans to vote, we'll have to allow criminals to vote! And if we allow criminals to vote, we'll have to allow illegal immigrants to vote! If we allow illegal immigrants to vote, we'll have to allow foreigners to vote! If we allow foreigners to vote, we'll have to allow the Chinese to vote! And if we allow the Chinese to vote, China will take over America! And if China takes over America, we'll lose our sovereignty! THEREFORE, WE SHOULD NOT ALLOW WOMEN TO VOTE! That's the danger of slippery slope arguments.
My conclusion: without an argument based on religious doctrine, tradition, or slippery slope reasoning, I fail to see how we can justify banning polygamous marriages.
Last night I was thinking about this topic. I was thinking of an (insensitive) argument I have heard opponents of gay marriage make, which goes something like this: "Allowing homosexuals to marry will begin a slippery slope; if we accept homosexual marriages, what will stop us from having to accept marriages between HUMANS AND ANIMALS?!" As ridiculous (and insulting) as this argument is, I have nonetheless come up with a simple and logical rebuttal: the majority of Americans agree with the notion that marriage should be between consenting parties. Animals have no way of understanding what marriage is, and they have no way of consenting to a marriage. Therefore, marriages between people and animals will never be a legitmate issue for debate in America because it would be opposed by the masses AND, more importantly, it would be clearly unethical.
This reasoning led me to another argument I have heard from opponents of legalized gay marriage. This argument (again) relies on the over-utilized slippery-slope angle. It goes something like this: "If we legalize homosexual marriages, what will stop us from legalizing polygamous marriages?!?" And it dawned on me last night: That's a good point!
But it's not a good point in opposition to legalizing gay marriages. It's actually a good argument for the legalization of polygamous marriage. Yup, I said it. There doesn't seem to be a good logical argument to make for banning polygamous marriages. (If you are experiencing uncomfortableness or disbelief at this time, I challenge you to consider that this is probably because you have been raised in a culture that views polygamists along the same moral grade as rapists and pedafiles. Interestingly, our culture once also group homosexuals into this category...sadly some individuals and groups still do.)
Consider first that polygamous marriages, so far as I know, do not cause any more potential harm to the willing parties than do traditional, heterosexual marriages(assuming each party is a willing participant). This cannot be said of a marriage between, say, a human and animal (the animal is being committed to the relationship without its consent) or between an adult and a child (children are not developmentally able, cognitively or emotionally, to truly give informed consent to a legal marriage). Secondly, the only arguments against legalized polygamous marriage, it seems to me, have to be based on either (a)religious beliefs, (b)the "tradition argument," or (c) slippery slope arguments.
Argument "A" (religion) has no legs to stand on. First, which religion should we base our laws on? The Taliban believes laws should be based on Islamic Law. Surely we are not willing to accept Islamic Law as the basis for American law (ask the women of Afghanistan how that worked out for them). What about basing our laws on Christianity's teachings? The Bible states that adultery occurs when a man marries a divorced woman (The Apostle Paul says so clearly in the New Testament), and adultery is listed in the Bible as a sin. So banning the practice of getting re-married after a divorce would have to become illegal in our country. (I'm dumbfounded that I have yet to hear anybody point this out. How quickly would conservative American Christians back off on wanting gay marriages legalized if they realized how hypocritcal they were being.) What would the legal penalties be for people who broke the laws of having lustful thoughts, lying, worshiping other gods, taking God's name in vain, etc. (these are listed as sins in the Bible)? Would the cops cite me for saying "Goddamnit!" as I stub my toe on a public curb?
Argument "B" (tradition) has a nasty history in American life. Some traditions are healthy, of course, but laws based simply on tradition's sake unfortunately have an amazing propensity to stop us from progressing as a society. America clearly has had many regretable "traditions" in its relatively short history. Here is just a small sample: selling Africans as slaves to white families; prohibiting women from voting; not allowing races to intermarry; not allowing blacks to drink from the same fountains as whites; slaughtering and stealing land from Native Americans; paying equally-qualified women significantly less in wages than men who do the same work (this is still a rampant problem today. Research is very clear on this.). All of these practices would continue today in America were it not for individuals brave enough to buck tradition and declare that change was needed.
Argument "C" (slippery slope), I have a problem with because this kind of argument often fails to address the specific issue at hand. Let's use, as an example, the decision to allow American women to vote. A slippery slope argument can easily be made to oppose a woman's right to vote. It might go something like this: "If we allow women the right to vote, then what's to stop the next generation from allowing African-Americans to vote?" (This reminds me of my argument for why polygamous marriages should be legalized. Of course African Americans should be allowed to vote. There is no logical reason to deny them that right.) "If we allow women to vote, we'll have to let African-Americans vote! And if we allow African-Americans to vote, we'll have to allow criminals to vote! And if we allow criminals to vote, we'll have to allow illegal immigrants to vote! If we allow illegal immigrants to vote, we'll have to allow foreigners to vote! If we allow foreigners to vote, we'll have to allow the Chinese to vote! And if we allow the Chinese to vote, China will take over America! And if China takes over America, we'll lose our sovereignty! THEREFORE, WE SHOULD NOT ALLOW WOMEN TO VOTE! That's the danger of slippery slope arguments.
My conclusion: without an argument based on religious doctrine, tradition, or slippery slope reasoning, I fail to see how we can justify banning polygamous marriages.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Motives for kind deeds
Genuineness, to me, is the living out of what we long for or connect with internally. The genuine person looks within him- or herself and identifies what is intrinsically important to them. They then act accordingly.
When we perform acts of service for reasons other than a genuine desire to help others, is this authentic? Politicians can be used as an example here. I can't know the ultimate motives of others, of course, but I find it interesting that many of our politicians become active in community service during campaign seasons. During the 2008 presidential campaign, with television cameras recording his every move, Barack Obama found time to help folks pile up sandbags in preparation for a flood. From the exposure I've had to information about Obama, I'm confident he does feel good in helping others, but I also find it interesting that this would happen during election season. I question how much this act of "service" was also an attempt to gain votes.
Religious followers often reach deep into their pockets to give financial contributions to their religious institutions. No doubt our country benefits when its people reach out to help one another. But, as a former church-attending, Bible-believing Christian, I can attest to hearing many, MANY sermons from pastors in which they taught their congregations that God operates under a "sew and reap" system. In other words, if believers will give financially to "God's work," God will supposedly "bless" the faithful financial donors with added financial prosperity. What, then, becomes the true motive in making these donations? To selflessly help others or to achieve financial benefits? (And possibly, knowingly or otherwise, to show others how "godly" they are?)
I think a fantastic example of genuine giving is the giving of something (time, effort, money, whatever...) that:
(a) benefits the recipient;
(b) provides no obvious benefit to the giver (other than perhaps the peace of mind that comes with doing a good deed for a fellow human being); and
(c)is done anonymously (when possible).
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Being authentic vs being "different"
I find it interesting when I meet someone who strives to be different from everybody else. Or at least different from the majority of others. I believe these individuals often mistake being "different" or "unique" with being true to themselves.
For example, I know somebody who, years ago, was a big fan of a certain band. At the time, this particular band was relatively unknown by the general public. The person I am refering to was so excited about this band. He bought their cd's, he went to their concerts, he wore t-shirts with their logo. A few years later, the band scored a hit song on the radio. A video for the song followed on MTV. The band's new cd sold millions of copies. And then something interesting happened....
...the person I am refering to lost interest in the band. He stopped buying their cd's. He quit attending their concerts. He threw away the t-shirts.
The band didn't change the quality or style of their music. They didn't "sell out." I know because I started listening to the band's music at the same time this person did. He introduced me to their music. I still like the band's music to this day. But he doesn't.
I admire his willingness to be unique, but I'm not sure he's really being true to himself. On the surface he appears to be fighting conformity, yet in his pursuit of uniqueness, he lets others affect his choices in music.
He genuinely found joy in something, then convinced himself otherwise because of other people's opinions. Isn't that conformity?
For example, I know somebody who, years ago, was a big fan of a certain band. At the time, this particular band was relatively unknown by the general public. The person I am refering to was so excited about this band. He bought their cd's, he went to their concerts, he wore t-shirts with their logo. A few years later, the band scored a hit song on the radio. A video for the song followed on MTV. The band's new cd sold millions of copies. And then something interesting happened....
...the person I am refering to lost interest in the band. He stopped buying their cd's. He quit attending their concerts. He threw away the t-shirts.
The band didn't change the quality or style of their music. They didn't "sell out." I know because I started listening to the band's music at the same time this person did. He introduced me to their music. I still like the band's music to this day. But he doesn't.
I admire his willingness to be unique, but I'm not sure he's really being true to himself. On the surface he appears to be fighting conformity, yet in his pursuit of uniqueness, he lets others affect his choices in music.
He genuinely found joy in something, then convinced himself otherwise because of other people's opinions. Isn't that conformity?
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The big announcement
My wife and I are in my hometown this weekend. We stayed at my parents' last night. At dinner time I chose to reveal to my parents that I am no longer a Christian but an agnostic. I was a little bit nervous before the words began to leave my mouth. Not so much nervous about my dad because he's pretty understanding about things and relatively open-minded. I was a little nervous about how my mom would feel or respond because she tends to hold a more clear definition of what is right and what is wrong and often likes to hold to tradition.
But genuineness is the goal for me. Be myself. Don't appear to be one thing for others while being something else under the surface.
So I said it. It went something like this:
Me: "So I've realized something lately."
Dad: "Oh, yeah. What's that?"
Me: "I'm agnostic."
Dad: "I've heard of that. What does it mean again?"
Me: "Agnostic means, basically, I think we have no way of knowing for sure if there is a god or not. If there is, we have no way of knowing who specifically god is. And I can relate with that a lot. It fits with how I see things now. So, anyway, I'm not a Christian anymore."
My wife (to my mother): "These turnips are really good."
Mom: "Yeah, they're fresh from the garden. I picked them..."
I looked at my dad and said, under my breath, "What the fuck?" He smiled and laughed.
But genuineness is the goal for me. Be myself. Don't appear to be one thing for others while being something else under the surface.
So I said it. It went something like this:
Me: "So I've realized something lately."
Dad: "Oh, yeah. What's that?"
Me: "I'm agnostic."
Dad: "I've heard of that. What does it mean again?"
Me: "Agnostic means, basically, I think we have no way of knowing for sure if there is a god or not. If there is, we have no way of knowing who specifically god is. And I can relate with that a lot. It fits with how I see things now. So, anyway, I'm not a Christian anymore."
My wife (to my mother): "These turnips are really good."
Mom: "Yeah, they're fresh from the garden. I picked them..."
I looked at my dad and said, under my breath, "What the fuck?" He smiled and laughed.
Friday, November 7, 2008
suddenly agnostic
10 years ago I fit the following descriptions: "born-again," "evangelical Christian," and "Conservative." I officially became "born-again" 13 short years ago. Yeah, it feels like recent history. It happened one night as I sat in my bedroom, stoned on pot and drunk on beer. I read some Bible passages, suddenly felt as though God was in the room with me, and then said I'd dedicate my life to "Him." 13 years later, I have removed the label of "Christian" from my identity.
Concrete beliefs in any specific identity of a creator, or even a concrete belief in a creator at all, now seem unreasonable to me. We're too damn biased in our perspectives and thus quick to defend what we think and believe. I don't think we can KNOW if a creator exists. Or if ghosts exist. We can choose to believe based on information we're given, or experiences we have. But I no longer think we can KNOW.
I now think that religion and beliefs in a specific theology or specific creator are tied into the psychology and emotions of humans. I have heard Christians say (and yes, I would once say) that we must believe in heaven after this life because it's depressing and hopeless to think that our earthly death is the end. Last week I heard a pastor make these comments at a funeral. I now have a problem with this reasoning:
Just because a possible outcome makes us feel sad or hopeless does not mean that outcome cannot be a possibility. As I sit and type this entry, it is possible that an intruder will break into my home and kill me and my family. I won't spend much time dwelling on this possibility because the thought of this possibility does not leave me with a very positive feeling. Nonetheless, the possibility exists. Is it possible that an intruder will not break into my home tonight? Yes, that also is possible. And this possibility brings me comfort. I feel safe thinking that an intruder will not break into my home tonight and harm my family. But I think it would be foolish of me to think that I KNOW an intruder will not break into my home tonight on the basis that the thought brings me comfort. In the same way, I do feel a greater sense of hope and optimism in thinking of the possibility that I might experience "heaven" after this life. Especially if heaven is as good as advertised by many Christians. I don't feel as hopeful or optimistic at the thought of simply decomposing in a coffin after I take my last earthly breath. But I am willing to acknowledge that I don't know if an "afterlife" exists. If not, that's okay. It has to be okay if it's the reality. I will not allow this possibility to create hopelessness in me, however. I will use the possibility as motivation to make the most of my experience in this (possibly) one life I have. I have been on several vacations in my life. None of them have lasted forever. During each of these vacations, I have found myself keeping a mental tally of the number of days gone by and the number of days remaining of the vacation. Why? Because I don't want the vacations to end! I don't want to return to work. But nonetheless I always know that the vacation will end. Does this make me hopeless? Does it make my vacation miserable? No. Because, while I'm disappointed the vacation won't last forever, I use my knowledge of the vacation's relatively short duration to try to make the most of the vacation experience. I'll relax on a Mexican beach for a few hours, but I won't sleep away the whole trip because I'd miss out on too many unique experiences!
Concrete beliefs in any specific identity of a creator, or even a concrete belief in a creator at all, now seem unreasonable to me. We're too damn biased in our perspectives and thus quick to defend what we think and believe. I don't think we can KNOW if a creator exists. Or if ghosts exist. We can choose to believe based on information we're given, or experiences we have. But I no longer think we can KNOW.
I now think that religion and beliefs in a specific theology or specific creator are tied into the psychology and emotions of humans. I have heard Christians say (and yes, I would once say) that we must believe in heaven after this life because it's depressing and hopeless to think that our earthly death is the end. Last week I heard a pastor make these comments at a funeral. I now have a problem with this reasoning:
Just because a possible outcome makes us feel sad or hopeless does not mean that outcome cannot be a possibility. As I sit and type this entry, it is possible that an intruder will break into my home and kill me and my family. I won't spend much time dwelling on this possibility because the thought of this possibility does not leave me with a very positive feeling. Nonetheless, the possibility exists. Is it possible that an intruder will not break into my home tonight? Yes, that also is possible. And this possibility brings me comfort. I feel safe thinking that an intruder will not break into my home tonight and harm my family. But I think it would be foolish of me to think that I KNOW an intruder will not break into my home tonight on the basis that the thought brings me comfort. In the same way, I do feel a greater sense of hope and optimism in thinking of the possibility that I might experience "heaven" after this life. Especially if heaven is as good as advertised by many Christians. I don't feel as hopeful or optimistic at the thought of simply decomposing in a coffin after I take my last earthly breath. But I am willing to acknowledge that I don't know if an "afterlife" exists. If not, that's okay. It has to be okay if it's the reality. I will not allow this possibility to create hopelessness in me, however. I will use the possibility as motivation to make the most of my experience in this (possibly) one life I have. I have been on several vacations in my life. None of them have lasted forever. During each of these vacations, I have found myself keeping a mental tally of the number of days gone by and the number of days remaining of the vacation. Why? Because I don't want the vacations to end! I don't want to return to work. But nonetheless I always know that the vacation will end. Does this make me hopeless? Does it make my vacation miserable? No. Because, while I'm disappointed the vacation won't last forever, I use my knowledge of the vacation's relatively short duration to try to make the most of the vacation experience. I'll relax on a Mexican beach for a few hours, but I won't sleep away the whole trip because I'd miss out on too many unique experiences!
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