On Doctrines

As I lounge back after a very cruel physics test, my mind strays once again into its maddening habit of trying to contemplate the universe. What I need, as Robert Knapp said today in English, is a rainstorm to sit and think in.

The other day, Allison Scace asked me what, as an atheist, I think about death. Now, I've never been terribly prodigious at explaining things to people very well in person, whether it's the awkwardness of the topic, or Alex Pankonien interjecting an "I think John's thinking there might be something more" when I'm Goddamned trying to think, but I realize my inability to very well discuss my beliefs (or blatant lack of them, as I am known for) is because I simply have not thought about them enough yet. I'm sixteen years old. Myself, and anyone else my age lacks the wisdom and experience to set their beliefs, paths, or moral principles in stone. We are just beginning to live: to adopt a doctrine now is foolish, which is one reason I stand without any such thing except my own unwritten code of honor (which is another thing I still need time to think about, but involves not being a complete asshole, and, you know, opening doors for people).

Perhaps that is what I criticize religionists so harshly for--raising their children from toddler to teen with divine notions and commandments and judgement in their heads, seemingly exploiting childrens' young gullability just to pass on their way of life, without letting them mature and decide on their own. Six-year olds don't know who Christ or God or Allah is--they simply say they believe in him when asked, because they have no knowledge of anything else. Growing up in Chicago and around here, I always answered an indifferent "yes" to people who asked me if I believed in God, because, well, that was what everyone said. I just thought it was the norm, the default; and really, it was, and still is. It wasn't until later that I had this Godism concept explained to me a little more thoroughly (or, rather, I learned about it myself, trying to digest Genesis and the ideas of my devout buddies); and while I really did give it a chance, I never was able to believe in any of it. The only thing I'm completely sure of today is what I don't believe.

Ms.Scace, of course, asked me my views on death, which led me to write this post. I don't know what I believe; only what I don't. Reincarnation sounds nice. Even the concept of becoming nothingness according to a set of mechanical laws is more comforting to me than harsh, holy judgement. At least I'd know what I'm in for. The American Romantics had a real good thing going with simply dying and giving your energy back to the earth, return what you've taken, and so on. It's quite noble. The holographic model of the universe is the most comforting to me, since I am awfully scientific and logical, yet emotionally sensitive, as it proposes the implicate connectivity of everything, the existence of the "soul" even if it is just a mound of energy, and most importantly, as it is not quite as linear as we humans are accustomed to; rather than acknowleding the existence of "parts" of the physical world such as time, space, and matter. It beats the shit out of wondering what came before those quacks' ultimately unsatisfying Big Bang, by saying that time is simply a construct of our minds to help us understand all of this, which is, of course, what everything is. Of course, I will have more on that in tomorrow's post.