Finding Joy in the Ephemeral

"Beauty is its own excuse for being."

That's what my teacher Mr. Dove taught me in my creative writing class back in high school.  Here I am, more than a decade later, and the quote remains true as I ponder the fullness of what it means. At face value, I get it -- beauty needs no pretense, no excuse, no functionality. Beauty speaks for itself. I want to synthesize that mentality, though, and bury it deep down in my psyche.

All things are ephemeral.  Your relationships, your most valued possessions, your body itself -- all of it will one day fade into obscurity. The universe itself will one day cease to function. Every person who has looked mortality in the eye has had to wrestle with their own finite nature. Nonetheless, beauty exists in these temporal structures. Expiration is not damnation.

Just because something is temporary, doesn't mean it's not valuable.

Lives begin and lives end. One of my goals during this season of introspection has been to find joy in the ephemeral. It requires a degree of courage to accept loss without painting the past with a negative and remorseful brush. You can bid farewell to the past without burning it to ashes. You can accept the path behind you.

Everything you hold dear will once cease. I think about this in simple terms to remind myself of its simple truth. Think of one of your favorite belongings for a moment. I, for one, am very attached to my guitar. I find joy in it -- it helps me to relax and find peace in a hectic world. One day, it will no longer function properly. One day, its existence will reach a conclusion.

The conclusion does not nullify the beauty of the narrative that precedes it.

The same could be said with friendships, job experiences, and so much more. I want to learn how to find joy in the ephemeral, because life requires us to say many tearful farewells along the way. I want to reflect with gladness as I mouth each goodbye. As loved ones pass away and time takes its toll, join me in the search for joy in the ephemeral.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Damnation.

It seems tempting to envision a world where people are truly free to believe their own truths and pursue their own paths. However, the reality before us is this: people care about what you believe, because the consequences of disbelief and doubt are supposedly quite severe. Your beliefs are a matter of heaven and hell.

In light of this realization, I understand that friends and family mean well when they wonder about my beliefs. Nonetheless, in the past year I have become dreadfully concerned with the concept of damnation itself, because it strikes to the heart of God's nature. Our thoughts about damnation reveal profound truths about ourselves and how we relate to the divine.

A great deal of religious thought is predicated upon a simple notion:

You're not just flawed -- you're evil. 

The Christian worldview, among other religions, demands the adherent to accept their own filthy nature. It is a prerequisite for all that follows. It is the cost of admission to the entirety of the real church experience. And it troubles me, as a human being and as a father.

This mentality is not necessarily reflected in a child's church experience, though. It's a curious phenomenon that the tone of Christian teaching in a church tends to change dramatically as the participants grow older.  Young children are taught innocuous concepts like "God loves you!" and "teamwork is good!". However, by adulthood, the self-deprecation begins to be woven through each and every message.

You are broken. You are guilty, from birth.
And what is your crime?
  Existing in the second degree, I guess.

I don't know if I can look my children in the eye and tell them they deserve to be tortured eternally.  I don't know if I can embrace that paradigm as I behold their sleeping bodies, laying peacefully in bed at night. I don't know if I can purchase that ticket. I don't want to... and I don't feel sorry about it either.

Now, not all Christian denominations believe in eternal Hell, or in the naturally damned state of man -- but many of them do. That's what scares me.  The majority of the Christian world believes that man is created in a damned, evil state, and that he is on the wide path to eternal torment... and you're telling me the problem is humankind?

Why is Hell eternal, and why is the road so wide and often-travelled? How can my existence be both pre-ordained and inherently evil?

If you believe that God is going to sentence me to harm for BILLIONS or TRILLIONS of years because I am exercising my natural skepticism right now, perhaps you should bring your questions to him. Is that harsh? Maybe... but so is damnation. After years in the Christian bubble, I am re-calibrating what mercy, justice, and love really means. I have daughters to raise and a world to change, and I refuse to despise either for the sake of tired dogma.


Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

The Sympathizer

Millenials love being categorized. That's important to keep in mind for the remainder of this blog post. They seriously adore being defined by shallow labels. Don't forget it.

Every person on Earth is covered in name tags. These stickers remain unseen, but they dictate so much about our lives. Christian, white, southern,  married, democrat, athlete, musician, leader... the list goes on.  Although my generation (millenial and proud, deal with it) has taken great strides to peel off these labels, they remain... and they matter.

People, by and large, distrust and despise atheists. A variety of statistics flesh out the fact that atheism is considered one of the most toxic labels one can wear. Even in our Islamophobic post-9/11 nation, studies indicate that the average citizen have less faith in an atheist than a muslim.

I find this phenomenon particularly baffling considering that, most people tread the path of the atheist (or at least agnostic) through their daily lives. Practically speaking, most humans live their days as atheists, claiming religious allegiances for the sake of family pride or social connection. They do not consult the gods regarding what to wear everyday and where to go -- they live a decidedly humanistic and material existence. They're just... people.

In light of this, the demonization of the unbeliever is a particular kind of travesty. Here's the thing -- I'm not an atheist*, but I am the atheist's sympathizer. I am the atheist's advocate. Bear with me on this one before you violently chuck your laptop in anger, OK?

Here's the deal... In the corners of the internet where I often dwell, atheist thought abounds. Scientists, skeptics, you know the type. I don't always agree with their assertions... but I do understand. That's what I want to embody in my life and that's what I want to see: more understanding and less pious categorization.

Perhaps one of the most commonplace philosophical arguments against God as we know it comes from the Greek Epicurus. He stated:

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

Now, Christian, I am not asking you to agree. I am asking you to understand. Can you fathom a life wherein a person reaches the same conclusion? I can. If I lived in some war-torn country where I watched my children wither from starvation, yeah. I'd agree. I'd feel incapable of believing otherwise, probably. That's just one simple scenario, but we could unravel a multitude of similar ones.

We are all learners, gathering evidence about God's nature from the life we live and the things we witness, both beautiful and horrifying. Who am I to insist that someone should bend their conclusion to fit into my contours? This is the height of audacity -- discounting the human before you in favor of your own preconceptions.

So when I read an atheist meme on Instagram or Facebook, or I see a quote from Dawkins online, I seek to understand the human dynamic within it. People of every faith must do the same if they have any hope of serving the people they adamantly insist that they love. If you love the "lost", listen to them. They have stories to tell -- tales of heartbreak and skepticism, belief and disillusionment.

This is not to say that all atheist thought is borne out of suffering or bitterness -- I certainly don't think that. Indeed, skepticism is a cornerstone of intellectual thinking in general, and every person of faith should test their own beliefs to determine if they are worthy of believing.  If you must plug your ears to avoid the claims of the skeptic, perhaps your paper-thin doctrines deserve to be destroyed.

In any case, my general approach with all trains of thought regarding belief and truth are to seek first to understand. I'm letting go of the partitions that I used to build around my heart and mind. I want to grant the basic dignity of listening to those with whom I disagree. I want to seek truth in a manner that is profoundly curious and unrelentingly compassionate. 

*how I categorize my faith is none of your business. Enough with the labels!

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one.