I myself life without religion. While it is the central element of my intellectual pursuits, Christianity in particular, it is the far away from any personal or spiritual attachment to me. Not entirely an atheist and not necessarily an agnostic and certainly not a nihilist, religion is simply absent from my life. Given that the existence of a higher power concerns no one until our number is up, it seems that it should hardly concern us until that very moment, should it not? Listening to human arbiters is not the same as listening to a higher power and since men are entirely fallible, they hold no higher wisdom about the nature of things than I do - especially if we are equally learned in doctrine and simply differentiate upon faith alone. However, I distinctly remember having two boyfriends who were "extremely devout". One of which gave me a copy of the New Testament when I was fourteen years old. His later actions, as you can probably guess, were highly unChristian as it were. The second also gave me a few books on the subject of Christianity. One book in particular, Blue Like Jazz - a memoir of a Christian attending Reed College in Oregon (renowned for ... well ... everything but devotion to any organized religion), was highly lauded for presenting Christianity nicely to a group of godless twenty-somethings. I read it and thought it was okay. By okay, I mean that it was garbage. The beginning of our relationship was prefaced with "We try to not to force religion into your face" and perhaps given that I was indeed a heathen by definition, the family was extremely accepting of me and I repaid them their acceptance with acquiescing to sitting on a porch during the peak of my hormonally driven libidinous rage at the age of 17 and 18 as well as attending a huge number Church services. Religion was, of course, forced into my face and the idea that many believed that we would live happily ever after was laughable given that I was practically an atheist and he suffered greatly from Catholic guilt more than he was religious. But my point is.... is that while Religion was being stuffed down my throat, never once did I give him a book that logically explained that god or gods simply cannot exist and that this idea is not a novel one. Never once did I laugh at their misplaced piety and hypocrisy and yet I endured the endless berating of politicians and celebrities that were not of their creed. A cab driver once asked me if I was religious. I replied that I grew up with a Catholic background but I did not care an ounce for religion. He shook his head and told me that one day when I grew older that I would understand. Why so patronizing? The only thing that occurs when I get older will be the increasing anxiety over my limited years which would explain for any frantic outcries to seek assistance from beyond this realm to extend my stay on this earth to selfishly pursue all that I wish. Every person I have come into contact in the past six months have almost all posted on their Facebook that they are Roman Catholic and yet majority of them are almost always pursuing premarital sex more than anything else.
I do try to be accepting, understanding and above all things, polite. I have neither the right nor the place to criticize or mock someone for their beliefs for their journey is their own. But why they must constantly insist on criticizing my beliefs, and believe me - they seldom take the time to explore what those beliefs actually are? It is becoming more and more difficult to be accepting and open minded towards those who time and again prove to fall into this stereotype defined by hypocrisy.
I cannot help but feel as though I am now looked at as some corrupting hussy. I laugh about it but it troubles me that while I tried my darndest to put my claws away, I will be blamed for the momentary ruin of some young upstanding gentleman simply because I live without religion. I live a quiet and perhaps selfish life but I harm no one and I am happy. What greater felicity is there than to see another human being exist successfully for a moment - without the depression of mortality weighing upon them? Is it because they believe it is the wrong kind of happiness? That one should subscribe to guilt and shame and become so insecure about the truth that they lash out at anyone mildly observant who notices their guilt and shame? How can they live their sordid lives behind closed doors, walk out the door and zip their fly's and cover that perfume with more cologne so that they may look condescendingly at a pair of red pumps on a young girl's feet and then snore soundly at night? How can they talk to me in a bar, buying me drink after drink, saying that they are religious when they have only one thing in mind when the bartender gives them my alcohol-laden cocktail? Why not simply accept their "fallen" state rather than reject it, inevitably indulge in it, and then hate themselves for it? What sort of existence is that? There is no shame in being human.
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