Reflect on your year

How's your year been?

What's given you joy this year?

What's brought you down this year?

Those are three questions I think are good to ask when the year ends - of people you care about and of yourself.

When I ask the question about what gave me joy in a year, I go through my Google calendar, my journal, my blogs and my social media posts, and I make a list - I write it out. And it always turns out that good things happened that I had forgotten: some movie I saw that I found delightful. Some outing I had with someone I hadn't seen in a long while. Some hike. Some one-day motorcycle ride. I find myself thinking over and over again, "Oh yeah, that happened..." I always feel better after I do this, even if the year has been a particularly bad one.

The last question is easier to answer - no need to go looking for what brought me down, because I haven't forgotten most of it. Sometimes I list that too, sometimes not. Sometimes, I have found a list like that in a journal, read through the things, and none of them matter anymore, at all,and that is a comfort - to see that something so dire five years ago doesn't matter now. Or seeing something bad and being reminded that I survived it, that I got through it, even if it left a scar.

I know that our ideas about the start of a year are artificial, entirely man-made: yes, a year is the time the Earth goes around the Sun, that's real, that's not made up, but our starting point is artificially chosen - there's no official start and end time for a year, from a scientific perspective. Humanity could have chosen the year to start at the height of summer's heat in the Northern Hemisphere. It didn't, for logical reasons: new things start at birth, and as we see things being born and reborn all around us in nature as Winter turns to Spring, humanity's choice of when a year stops or starts makes sense.

I like metaphors. I think I especially like them now, as an atheist, far more than in my younger days because, when I was trying to be a Christian in those younger days, the religion was taught to me literally, without many metaphors, and when I realized this, I also realized just how much richer stories are when we see deeper meanings in them, when we look for wisdom, not just rules. I remember as a youth being taught the story of the loaves and fishes, a story mentioned in all four Gospels, as merely a miracle by God on Earth; I was 25 when I heard someone tell the story as an encouragement to share, because if we pool our resources, we have all we need to take care of everyone - and more - and that the acts of young people do matter, can make a difference, are needed. De-emphasizing the divine, the superpower and, instead, looking at the metaphors, the implied lessons, made the story so much more, and I felt much more connected to the storytellers who made up the story, because I think it's the metaphor that was important to them more than the divine.

So I like adhering to the common human practice of seeing the year coming to an end in winter, of thinking of life metaphorically and this marking the end of a chapter, and as it dies out, new things are born, plants are renewed, and maybe I can revitalize in some ways. 

Happy Reflecting. Happy New Year.

calendars & holy days

Christians follow a liturgical calendar based on the supposed life of Jesus Christ, celebrating events like the "Immaculate Conception" of Mary, the divine congratulations to Mary that she was pregnant with Jesus, the birth of Jesus, the Baptism of Jesus, the birth of Jesus (Christmas), etc.

The Hebrew or Jewish calendar compiles the dates for Jewish holidays, for the appropriate public reading of Torah portions and for the undertaking various ceremonies, like Purim, Passover, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, etc.

The Islamic calendar is a lunar calendar compiles the dates for Islamic holidays and associated rituals, like the Islamic New Year, the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali, the grandson of Muhammad, and his followers, the birth of the Prophet, the start of Ramadan, the end of Ramadan, the start of Hajj, etc.

Hindus, Buddhists, B'hais, Sikhs and various other religions all have calendars they follow that tell them what ceremony or ritual they need to do when. Some follow a solar calendar and some follow a lunar calendar and some follow a mix of the two.

Do atheists follow a ceremonial calendar? Some do. Many atheists buy a tree for Christmas, both because it's a tradition they grew up with and because the roots of that ritual aren't Christian but, in fact, pagan. Some atheists fast during Ramadan, in solidarity with their family and their community.

Maybe we should also celebrate the days of the week, to demonstrate just how many religions we have abandoned and to remake them into days where we explore scientific wonders and celebrate, and question, humanity:

• For Monday, we could celebrate the Moon, since the day is named for the Moon. We could talk about how the moon controls the tides, what happens during lunar eclipse, why there are phases of the moon, and on and on. 
• Tuesday is derived from Old English Tiwesdæg and Middle English Tewesday, meaning "Tīw's Day", the day of Tiw or Týr, the god of single combat, and law and justice in Norse mythology. Tiw is equated with Mars, hence the names for this day in other languages: Martes in Spanish, Mardi in French, etc. So, on Tuesday, we talk about the horrors of war and what justice really means and how to pursue it, with reason and ethics. 
• Wednesday is derived from Old English and Middle English words that mean "day of Woden", reflecting a pre-Christian religion practiced by the Anglo-Saxon tribes of the region. In other languages, miércoles in Spanish or mercredi in French or mercoledì in Italian, the day's name is for Mercury, God of War. That presents a problem, since we spent Tuesday talking about war. So on Wednesday, let's talk about peace. 
• For Thursday, of course, we would celebrate Thor! And as a big fan of Marvel movies, I'm totally down with doing that! We'll all dress like Thor or any member of the Marvel universe. 
• For Friday, we would celebrate the "day of Frige", which comes from the Old English Frīġedæġ, or Frīatag in Old High German, or Freitag in Modern German, and vrijdag in Dutch - the result of combining the Old English goddess Frigg with the Roman goddess Venus. Since Venus was the goddess of love, Friday is going to be all about love. And, really, isn't it already?   
• For Saturday, we would celebrate "Saturn's Day." I say we talk about why Saturn is the most beautiful planet in the solar system. 
• And for Sunday, of course we could celebrate the Sun. We would talk about the Sun in cultural representations, sunspots, how suns are formed, what the gravitational pull of the Sun really means, and on and on. 

When all is said and done, let's keep the Thor in Thursday, okay?

Quotes that comfort

I'm not fond of inspirational or motivational posters or memes. They seem as disconnected from reality as some line of comfort from the Bible or Koran, assuring you that God is going to do this or that for you, no really, eventually, but if he doesn't, you know, it's his plan, either way, be grateful, blah blah blah. And that complete disconnect from the real world rubs me the wrong way. To me, supposedly-inspirational quotes are saying, "This horrible thing that's happening to you is bringing people around you down, so cheer up and quit killin' the vibe!"

I have worked in some war-torn countries and with people that have witnessed genocide. I'm friends with some of them on Facebook. And some of those folks LOVE INSPIRATIONAL MEMES. Like this one a friend in Kabul posted recently:

Life is like a camera:
Focus on what's important
Capture the good times
Develop from the negatives
And if things don't work out
Take another shot!

I stared at it, like I stare at all her memes, and other people's memes, and think, really? You, living in a warzone, love these chirpy citations?

I try to be ultra-sensitive in appreciating people's dire pasts and current dire circumstances. I also try so hard to be realistic in my approach to comforting human suffering. I avoid platitudes like the plague for people going through painful times, and certainly for people in a place where there are bombings regularly. Because I know what it's like to be devastated by something and have someone say, "God has you!" or "When a door closes, a window opens" or "the universe has a plan." Those things not only aren't helpful to me, I pretty much want to punch the person who says them.

Yet I also cannot deny that some people LOVE platitudes. And I get it: they affirm what people want to believe is true, and having hope affirmed is a powerful thing, one that can get you through all sorts of horrors. A quote can resolve a dialogue, a debate, that you’re having with yourself - and you may be yearning for such a resolution for that internal debate or questioning, and here's this perfect quote that simplifies your struggle and how to solve it, wrapping the answer up neatly in a well-structured, pithy phrase. Certainly, we all want to believe there is wisdom that can help us through any struggle, and those inspirational quotes can seem like well-established, even long-established wisdom.

I'm not going to talk anyone out of liking quotes that give them comfort, as long as they don't assume others would be comforted by them. God is good, all the time is one of the most offensive things I have EVER heard, as I've said before, and you can keep it to yourself when you're around me, thanks very much. But I'm not going to comment on your inspirational quotes on Facebook - you do you, and if that makes you feel better, that's great.

Do I have quotes I like, that give me comfort? Oh, yes, very much. I like quotes about how nature gives inspiration and comfort. I like quotes from Carl Sagan about the vastness and wonder of the universe. I like quotes about the comfort and joy given to us by music... or dogs.

But one of my favorite quotes is from Mr. Rogers. Freakin' Mr. Rogers. Yes, the television show host. The Presbyterian minister. The devout Christian. And it's that quote about what his mother would say when something horrible happened, like an assignation, or a disaster that killed several people:

“Always look for the helpers,” she’d tell me. “There’s always someone who is trying to help.” I did, and I came to see that the world is full of doctors and nurses, police and firemen, volunteers, neighbors and friends who are ready to jump in to help when things go wrong.

I am comforted by that statement because I want so much to believe that there are people who will ignore what religion or society tells them and, instead, help EVERYONE and ANYONE who is hurting.

I won't mock quotes that give you comfort. Hope you will do the same for me.

Is being an atheist a privilege?

I have many friends who are Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Bahais and Hindus. I don't try to convert them away from their religions. I wish them happiness on the holidays they celebrate, and I "like" any social media post they make that calls for social justice and criticizes their leaders for not speaking out about human rights, criminal behavior regarding children, etc. But I steer clear of commenting on their posts celebrating how great it is to be whatever religion they are, or how great their God/s is/are. It can be awkward when they get sick and ask for prayers - I can't offer that, and I feel they don't want what I can offer - or when they praise their God instead of the amazing medical care they have received and the scientists who produced the medicine that has made them better. It's most awkward when they post a testimonial of their love of their religions, and a criticism of those that don't believe as they do. Mostly, I ignore those posts.

Recently, a friend posted to a social media platform saying that to be an atheist is to be privileged and that atheists are arrogant and insensitive to ignore/dismiss the comfort and hope the Christian faith gives black Americans especially. I would love to quote the actual, entire post, but hours later, when I went to look for it, it was gone. I guess he realized he was a jerk thing to say and he deleted it. Or he feared what I would say...

But I haven't forgotten.

I most certainly believe being able to publicly declare one's atheism without fear of being fired, ostracized from family, socially excluded or murdered is a privilege. I am reminded of this as I look at the pixelated photos of the members of the Council of Ex-Muslims of Sri Lanka - they meet in secret and share photos on social media where their faces have been altered beyond recognition. Same for the Humanist Society Pakistan in celebrating World Humanist Day on 21 June. They want to let other atheists in their countries know that they are not alone, and maybe let religious people know that atheists are not monsters, but they must do so in very careful ways, to protect their own safety, jobs and families.

Being able to be open about my atheism with friends and neighbors is a privilege I enjoy, but even my privilege is limited: note that I don't use my real name here on this blog, for fear of what it will do to my professional career (though it's not hard at all to figure out who I am).

But is being an atheist only for the privileged? No.

The first thing that came to mind when I read my friend's diatribe was this quote:

"I'm an atheist, and Christianity appears to me to be the most absurd imposture of all the religions, and I'm puzzled that so many people can't see through a religion that encourages irresponsibility and bigotry. As my ancestors are free from slavery, I am free from the slavery of religion." It's from Butterfly Mcqueen, the actress, honored with the 1989 Freethought Heroine Award by the Freedom From Religion Foundation. I've written about her before.

Black American atheists have always been with us, and their words are some of the most important to me, personally, as an atheist. Probably the earliest evidence of atheism and agnosticism among black Americans comes from 19th-century slave narratives - yes, indeed, there were atheists among enslaved people. These are cited by Christopher Cameron, associate professor of history at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte, and the founder and president of the African American Intellectual History Society. He notes that the growth in Black American atheism coincided with the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and ’30s. Atheism and agnosticism have flourished more recently, and as Cameron puts it, "new black atheists are not content to personally reject religion but instead have a goal of spreading freethought to the broader black community. For example, the author Sikivu Hutchinson and the founder of Black Nonbelievers, Mandisa Thomas, argue that religion hurts the black community by promoting sexism, patriarchy and homophobia... These politics demand that black women must be chaste, temperate, industrious and socially conservative. Above all, they must be religious. They must always portray the race in the best light." Cameron also notes that feminism is an essential part of the new black atheists’ humanism, unlike most white atheist "leaders," at least the ones that regularly get cited, and I appreciate that viewpoint in particular. In fact, so much of the leadership I've found among Black American atheists are women, and I find myself following far more of them on social media than the usually cited white atheists "leaders" (all male).

I have been proud to have had the confidence of so many people, of a variety of ethnicities, who want to tell me that, indeed, they are atheists, they do not believe in the religion of their family, and they wish they could be open about it. They are happy to be freed from the mental and emotional limitations of religion, happy to be a part of a universe so much bigger and so much more full of possibilities than any religion has ever described, happy to no longer believe they are being punished or being given some kind of grand lesson as they or those they love suffer, and hopeful for their future as a full, rational human being. I will continue to value their insights and support them, and hope that, some day, they will feel safe enough to declare their belief in reason and the COMFORT they have received by rejecting all ideas of the supernatural, including God.

As the black atheist Sincere Kirabo says of Black Lives Matter: ‘There’s a social activist movement underway continuing the unfinished business of the Civil Rights movement era. Want to make a difference? What we need is grit and involvement in the struggle, not a tribe satisfied with the empty promises of scriptural white noise. Please, for the sake and love of our own futures: abandon your fabled white messiah. Wake up. We are our own salvation.’" Amen. 

Why don't I blog more often?

I launched this blog in the Fall of 2010. I've published 153 blogs in that time, including this one that you are reading now. That's more than one a month, on average, though I know I haven't actually blogged once a month.

Faith-based bloggers often produce a new blog once a week. Why don't I?

I thought about making that a goal. But, honestly, to what end? A faith-based blogger is writing to try to win new converts and/or keep the converts they have among their readers. I'm not trying to convince anyone to abandon their religion. Rather, I'm trying to give inspiration and comfort to those who are atheists and are feeling uncomfortable within their family or community, or to those who are realizing they don't have the faith that's necessary for the religion they have been in, perhaps from birth, and are wondering what life as an atheist will be like. I want this blog to help atheists feel good about their identity, particularly if they are in an unsupportive, even dangerous, environment.

I also think many atheists are discouraged from the desire for inspiration and curiosity and fellowship, as though the state of bliss that can come from human pursuits is somehow wrong to desire and seek. Is it because of the phrasing we use to talk about this - food for the soul - as most of us don't believe in a soul? I don't know. But I do know I love to be inspired, and I want to help other atheists feed this desire, celebrate it, and pursue it. For those who also desire that inspiration, I write this blog.

I take my muse tag very seriously: I'm here to inspire, regarding history, science, nature, the written word, dancing, poetry, humanity, philosophy, life in general... yes, muse comes from Greek and Roman mythology, from religions abandoned long ago. I love my ironic moniker!

I blog when I have something to say, and I don't always have something to day, not once a week, and sometimes, not even once a month. Other times, I have a LOT to say. Very often, I write two or three blogs at once sitting, and then space them out to be published weeks apart. 

I don't know how long I'll keep producing new blogs, but if you are new to this blog, I strongly encourage you start reading my blogs from when I started in November 2010. By the time you have read them all, I'll probably have a new one waiting for you. 

There are 52 weeks in the year. Were I a Christian preacher, that would require I write 52 sermons a year, and then start recycling them annually. If you have attended one church regularly, as I did in my youth, you know that there are many ministers out there that have just 52 sermons and they push the repeat button at the start of each year, as well as recycling special occasion sermons for weddings, funerals and other ceremonies. There's nothing quite like hearing a preacher give a sermon that you think is so personal and appropriate at a family members funeral, being so moved at it, and then hearing that exact same sermon months later at someone else's funeral... 

I've hit 52 original blogs long ago. Twice that is 104. Three times that is 156. Just three more blogs and I'll have enough to present a new blog post as my sermon to my imaginary atheist congregation for three years, without repeating. Maybe I should make my goal 365 blog posts - and produce a book, ala the daily devotionals some of my Christian family members dutifully read every day over breakfast.

Hope you are having a good 2019 and, if you aren't, I hope you have the resources and will to make it better. 

I have hope but not faith

When does the new year start? The Gregorian calendar says it just started and we're on day three of it. People that observe the Chinese lunar calendar haven't started their new year yet, nor have those that observe the Persian calendar. And then there is the Jewish calendar, which says the new year started back in September. And on and on...

I celebrate both the Gregorian calendar start of the year and the Winter Solstice, to both celebrate what's happened in the last 365 (or so) days, reflect on what's happened, think about the Earth spinning and moving around the Sun and anticipate what's coming, personally, professionally, historically and scientifically.

Most of my friends and associates acknowledge the Gregorian start of the new year, and many - more than most years - have said on social media that, this year, they are especially focused on hope. They are talking about how that's their word for the year. And there is something that bothers me about it: the way they are talking about it, I'm not sure they know what the word really means.

When they say I have hope for humanity what they mean is I believe humanity has an innate instinct, as a whole, to be kind, compassionate and less destructive and, eventually, this innate instinct will prevail, not because of any facts, but just because it's what I believe - it's my faith. The word hope is being used by a lot of people when they actually mean faith. They are using hope to mean complete confidence or trust in something, a strong belief in something, despite facts to the contrary.

I don't have faith in humanity. None. Zilch. But I do have hope. Hope is not faith. Hope is not blind trust. Hope is not confidence. Hope is a desire. Hope is a strong feeling of wanting something or wishing for something. Hope means that you want things to turn out well, but it does NOT mean you just assume they will, without any work or intervention. So, in using the correct definition of the word, yes, I have hope for humanity, but I don't have faith in humanity, don't have blind trust in humanity, and my confidence in humanity frequently waivers.

I hope for a better quality of life for the poorest and most oppressed of humanity, but I don't have faith or blind trust that it will just happen, naturally, without a tremendous amount of persistent work. I have hope for a world where natural spaces and the flora and fauna within are better protected, but I don't have faith or blind trust that it's just somehow going to happen because humans are to be trusted, without a great deal of pressure, to make it happen. I have hope for the future, but I don't have faith or blind trust that it's all just somehow going to work out for everyone.

When you lose hope, when you lose the desire for something to be better, that's when you welcome depression into your life. While I am a skeptic, I am not a cynic - at least, I try not to be. It's been tough since November 2016 not to be a cynic. But I still have hope. When I lose that, then you can start worrying about me.

What fuels my hope? It's simple: I want to live in a world where everyone has access to a safe place to live and prosper, where they can pursue any academic or trade job-based education they want, and where they can access all the quality healthcare they need. Why do I desire - hope - for all that? Because the world would be a better place to live, for me, personally, and for everyone. Living in a world where all that isn't happening creates misery and suffering - and I don't like misery nor suffering, not for myself and not for anyone else.

In 2019, I wish you to have a feeling of hope for the things you cherish and care about. And I hope you are also inspired to feed that hope with actions.