Because of some current events in my life, I’ve had a few people ask me what my beliefs are. The usual suspects include, “Do you believe in God?”, “Do you believe in prayer?”, etc.
I do not. I have not. I will not.
I don’t have a problem with someone believing in something that provides them with comfort, but the false belief in something that does not exist does not provide me with any comfort. In fact, there are a great many things that people tend to take for granted in their beliefs, that I simply refuse to believe or give any credit to.
I don’t believe in superstition, luck, ghosts, spirits, souls, that everything will work out, the afterlife, or anything in between. Quite literally, if it’s anything beyond what you can feel, see, and touch, I refuse to have any belief in it.
My life, as it is, is complicated enough to try and understand without adding anything additional. Life is what it is, regardless if you believe in some invisible father figure that watches over you. I also don’t believe in the myth of Jesus Christ, prophets, prophecy, pyschics, and the boogeyman.
Does that make me a bad person? No, of course not. Morality doesn’t (and has never) stemmed from religion. For those that truly believe that are sadly mistaken.
No, the universe was spun in to being billions of years ago, and we are the product of millions and billions of stars. Every atom in my body came from the remnants of stars long destroyed and gone. One day when I die, I will be laid to sleep within the Earth and I will decay in to the same atoms from those stars.
I don’t have any fear of death, but most of the Christians and religious zealots alike that I’ve spoken to, are. What does that say about the comfort provided by religion?
When I die, the carbon atoms that once made my body will return to the stars, and with enough time, perhaps they’ll become a part of something else. Something larger and much more beautiful. I don’t know, but it won’t matter much to me at that point, will it?