[The formatting from Word to WordPress sucks.

My bullet points are a little screwy. Oh well. It fits with the satirical implications.]

Handbook for an Atheist

(on how to [kinda] communicate with a theist)

Preface

                     The term “Atheist” is very broadly defined to include those who firmly do not believe that there’s enough evidence for a God to exist, those who believe in no God of any sort, and those for whom the term “God” has no meaning.

The Gallup Organization regularly finds that about 93% of the 228+ million adults living in America believe in either a God or a ‘higher power’.   However, it should be noted that this source is often taken out of context by the media as stating that over 90% of Americans believe in a personal God.

In fact, you’ll find statistics similar to these in most parts of the world.  Atheists (and agnostics) are the minority and typically misunderstood, disliked, and treated with many stereotypes.  The same can also be said for the view many Atheists have towards those with religious beliefs, but it’s rare because atheists tend to lead near-perfect lives.  A non-believer will say that the burden of proving the claim of a higher power should rest on the one making the claim.  Most Atheists understand that science is objective and, by its very nature, evolves through technology and better understandings of our universe.  Science can be proven, disproven, tested, and explained.  God, on the other hand, is created entirely based upon what the believer chooses to incorporate into their personal system of belief – both at the individual and group levels.

As an Atheist, I try not to butt-in or engage in discussion with Theists unless I’m provoked into the conversation either directly by a pointed question, or indirectly overhearing ridiculous nonsensical clichés in a neighboring conversation.  Only then do I decide to open the doors of communication.  However, it’s a tricky situation to jump into.  My personal experience has proven that anyone (religion aside) with strong, passionate convictions regarding their systems of belief is generally difficult to convince to see things any other way.  Throw God and religion into the mix and suddenly you’re no longer debating ‘logic’ in a scientific, provable sense; you’re debating that person’s sensitive Faith.  Faith, by its very definition, is holding a personal belief that something (God, in this case) is truth without the ability to present tangible, testable, viewable evidence.  However, Faith is not the pathway to truth… it is gullibility.

Regardless, these discussions can generally become heated if not approached correctly.  The following tactics can be used to successfully ‘steer’ the conversation in a productive manner.  Perhaps both sides of the argument can learn something from this.  It’s doubtful that either will budge much, but maybe you’ll diversify your friend portfolio if nothing else.

Communication is Symbolic

• Both verbal (speaking), and non-verbal (facial expression, body language) is usually employed when conversing with someone.  When controversial and taboo subjects such as spiritual beliefs are discussed, it’s important to be cognitive of these things.
• It can be easily taken as condescending and smug if you roll your eyes, shrug your shoulders, yawn, or mumble under your breath about how ignorant they seem while listening to the person speak.  You can usually lead a horse to water, but if you’re making faces and calling it a stupid horse, then it probably won’t drink and may even kick you into the pond you just led it to.
• Maintaining eye contact is important.  It tells the listener that you’re not just ‘hearing’ what they have to say; you’re being respectful of their time and ideas.  Yes, they may be uninformed and wrong… but amuse them by remaining consistent to this technique.  In the end, you’ll win by default.  This will make more sense in a moment.
• Do not instantly assume the intentions behind their verbal and nonverbal communications.  It could be they’re leading up to some Nobel Prize winning statement. By prejudging their reactions you could possibly break their train of thought.  That’s one less potential genius you just yanked from the gene pool.  Congratulations.
• Remember, just because they’re not instantly buying into your crazy scientific explanation of, say, how we evolved from apes and not Adam, doesn’t mean anything.  It could be distrust, but it could also be curiosity.  Or they’re just fearful of standing too close to you in case of a sudden lightening strike.

Cultural Contexts

• Beliefs in anything (whether the belief is in the idea of supernatural deities, Intelligent Design, and divine laws – or just the belief of “not having a belief”) commonly derive from the cultural background of the individual in question.
• Johnny was raised Mormon.  Every part of his childhood memory includes some form of church doctrine.  The monthly Ensign on the back of the toilet, the Boys Life subscription he can’t wait to receive in order to earn a new Merit Badge, or that one thing that happened in the Bishop’s office that Johnny would rather not talk about.  Johnny was raised to be respectful and moral according to church standards and family tradition.  If you sin, you pray to God about it or you don’t make it to the upper-echelon of heavenly resorts.  Nobody wants to spend eternity in a Motel 6 while their family parties it up with God at the Taj Palace.
• Darren wasn’t raised with any belief in a higher power.  His parents simply taught him how to be respectful of others, make moral decisions based on cause and effect, open doors for people, and try to be a decent human being.  If Darren made mistakes, he’d apologize to the person he wronged.  Afterwards they’d go get a beer and put the whole mess behind them.
• Understanding the audience you’re engaging in is critical.  Most of the time, in order for them to comprehend where you’re coming from, you may need to ‘speak their language’ (or at least know of its rules), and construct your words and nonverbal actions accordingly.
• Hone in on those cultural differences and exploit ask questions to understand them better.  This is a good way to begin bridging the gaps between Darren and Johnny.

 Appropriate Behavior

• Nobody thought it was cool when Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah’s couch because of his excitement over Katie.  Yeah, yeah… it’s great that you’ve found the ultimate happiness in life, Tom.  However, your happiness has nothing to do with mine.  Unless you’re providing ways I can incorporate whatever gave you such joy into my own life, then I couldn’t care less.  The odds of you sharing Katie with world is as likely to happen as Xenu coming back to earth to rescue the lost Thetans from the volcano.  So, simmer down and let’s chat like adults.
• The same can be said for anyone engaging in the delicate topic of God.  Be polite.  Be respectful.  Keep in mind that, even though creationists have a difficult time differentiating between logic and fantasy, what they need to say can still be an important lesson to learn.   Plus, as long as you’re maintaining composure, when it’s your turn to speak you’ll be able to kindly remind them that you just wasted 30 minutes of your life hearing them come to absolutely no point.
• Many  people of faith will try to disprove and discredit your beliefs by using science and history against you:

• Carbon dating isn’t accurate!
• This country was founded on Christianity!
• It says right here: In God We Trust!
• You must be a commie!
• Hitler was an Atheist!
• How is there good and evil, right and wrong, without God?!
• Yes, while it’s often difficult to contest these well thought out points, the truth of the matter is: sometimes it’s just best to just smile and nod.

 The Listening Process

• When people are speaking passionately (even if it seems foolishly aggressive), it’s best to listen to their words and silently placate them.  This is most helpful when tallying up all of the horrifically inaccurate mistakes and contradictions they’re reciting in order to turn it back around by asking specifically pointed questions.  How else are you to unravel the comfy sweater of their belief system without first waiting patiently to find the loose threads.  Eventually they’ll get tired of flailing their arms around.  This is your chance to grab and yank… hard.
• Language is used to express feelings.  Chances are that a religious person is feeling all sorts of tension by the sheer anxiety of standing this close to someone of your intellectual capacity.  Be cautious.  Just because there’s a Christian moniker, it does not exempt them from hurling  a colorful vocabulary of non-God-approved words at you.  You may also be dammed to Hell at some point.  Unfortunately, when God is on your side you’ve got an unlimited amount of Get Outta Jail Free cards in the form of prayer.  In some situations it might even be claimed that God would approve of their message.  Of course this isn’t true.  God would simply smite you on the spot and not waste much time communicating his holy message through the mouth of this knuckledragger before you.
• When replying to anything, remain on the low side of the abstraction scale.

• “You’re an ignorant knuckledragger, Creationist!” is not a healthy approach.
• This can easily be modified to instead say, “If I’m hearing you correctly, you’re not quite grasping the context of what it is I’m trying to explain.  I apologize.  If you could please cease fire on the ad hominem attacks then I’d be glad to summarize my views in a less aggressive manner .”
• To which they’ll most likely refer to you as a snooty know-it-all jerk.  If that’s the case, maintain course, assure them you have the best of intentions, and continue proving to them that you’re indeed superior in the ways of communication.
• Don’t be a defensive listener.  People on “the other side” are like less likely to respond well.  They’ll perceive your reactions as selective, selfish, and hurtful.  If you’re out to hurt, hurt with the truth.

Perceptual Barriers

• Avoid stereotyping.
• Just because there’s a Sarah Palin or Glenn Beck bumper sticker on their car, doesn’t mean this person isn’t open to new ideas.  They might have recently purchased the vehicle from a car lot and the previous owner was more than likely a religion zealot.  This isn’t the fault of the individual you’re now talking with; they may not realize what they’ve been advertising.  Perhaps even offering to grab a razor to help scrape off the bumper stickers would be a welcomed and inviting gesture.
• Regardless, leave the stereotyping to them.  Don’t become as a theist would by allowing your prejudices to interfere with rational thought.  This is what separates you from them.  You are clearly not as stupid.
• Perceptual barriers form when we perceive things, or a situation, or a person, to be a certain way based upon our tendency to judge and store what we learn in Schemas.

 Schemas

• Remember: it is human nature to judge your surroundings.  Often times we get stuck with predefined ideas of what the outcome of a situation will be simply based upon our Schemas, or mental structures that put together related bits of information.  In layman terms: schemas are created through years of conditioning.  Anytime we experience something either positive or negative, we store selective parts of that experience in our minds.  When a particular situation arises, we instantly look into our box of predisposed schemas to select the best response for that situation.  If someone says, “Hi!”, you search your schema set and reply with what you’ve learned as the appropriate response (“Yo, dude!”).
• The trouble with using schemas for every situation is getting stuck in a rut of mindlessness and selective perception.  Before you know it, you’ll have a tough time discerning between the true intention of a conversation with a religious person and the outcome you invented in your head based solely on past occurrences with similar encounters.
• Mindlessness allows you to go through certain communication transactions automatically; you don’t have to consciously think about how to talk with a creationist.  You just know that it’ll end with you feeling better about yourself while he/she feels drained of all they thought was true.
• Also, undue credibility occurs when you give greater credibility or importance to something shown or said than should be the case.  This is clearly the case with religious fanatics claiming God created the universe in 6 days.
• Pointing schemas out to less educated theists can be entertaining, but it’s best to not waste these scientific discussions on sheep.  Save them instead for dinner with your more evolved God-dismissing, evolutionist friends over expensive brandy, a crackling fire, and soft Mozart playing on the hi-fi in the library.
• Avoid schemas.  They lead to boredom, overconfidence, and laziness; the hallmarks of one without freedom of thought.

 Conflict and Managing Conflict

• Conflict is a negative reaction with two or more independent people, rooted in some actual or perceived disagreement.
• Conflict Management is the way that we engage in conflict and address disagreements with our relational partners.
• Most generally, it’s safe to assume that conflict is bound to happen with most political and religious debates.  Sure, there are the rare situations where a disagreement may arise over which 90′s artist would have been the better spokesperson for Greenpeace: R.E.M. or Midnight Oil, but those conflicts are normally well intended and resolved quickly.
• Productive conflict fosters healthy debate.  The end goal of arguing with a creationist is to get them to see your side.  Name calling and making things up aside, if your opponent can’t see the logic of your discussion in a rational manner, then what’s the point?  You should both come to an understanding at some point without blunt force trauma to the head caused by a thrown bible or a Richard Dawkins book on natural selection.
• Productive conflict leads to better decision making.  Well, unless the decision is to continue worshipping man-made myths, then clearly the debate wasn’t successful on the atheist’s part.
• Watch for conflict triggers:

• At some point, odd as it may seem, someone is going to disagree with something you’re saying.  No need for alarm!  This doesn’t mean you’ve lost the cause, it only means your cause needs to be reassessed.  You must have missed vital points along the way.  Retrace your steps and hammer every topic home again.
• As discussed earlier, beware of making inaccurate perceptions by assuming the person you’re debating with is a devout Glenn Beck follower.  Sure, they may invest in gold from time to time, but that is no reason to stereotype them as a mindless teabagger.
• What is the goal of your discussion?  If the goals are incompatible from the get-go, is there any reason to storm through the meadow hosing down Bambi with an automatic assault rifle?  No.  Your goals should be mutually accessible even if you must agree to disagree and celebrate with venison for dinner.
• Keep it fair, keep it accurate, stay on target, and don’t be a jerk.  That’s what your religious friend needs to remember.
• If conflict does arise, keep in mind the following strategies to wriggle away from or nose dive through:

• Escapist: Avoid the conflict in the first place by looking for obvious signs of the difficulty you’re about to face (bumper stickers, hair kept a certain way, pleated pants, a Jesus fish on the trunk).  Get out well before trouble sparks.
• Challenging: Jump in, full force, regardless of stickers and hair.  You’ve got a point to make and it’s going to take more than a few memorized scriptures to throw you off track.  You’ve been warned, Christian.
• Cooperative:  If all else fails, agree on some middle ground.  Work together to understand each other’s stance.  Even if it’s completely against the grain of reason, chances are they’re just envious of your awesomeness.
• Win-win, lose-lose, or win-lose – with science it doesn’t matter.  You’ll always be a winner because science is objective and can change anytime there’s ‘new evidence’ presented.  Keep that in mind and continue feeling proud.  Your self-esteem should be glowing like Chernobyl by now.

Groups

• What is there to say?  A group of God loving/fearing nuts is the cornerstone of what makes religion, religion.  The trouble with confronting a complex group all following the same handbook is strength in numbers.  And numbers involving idiocy with an indefinite amount of zeros behind it is unfortunately a daunting task to face and overcome.
• ‘Groupthink’ results from overly strong feelings of loyalty and unity within a group.

• The more people you have following along with one set of ideas, the less likely they are to speak up and spawn new ideas.  Everyone goes with the flow and keeps the wave-making to a dull ripple.
• Members who do express disagreement with the majority are pressured to conform to the majority view.
• Tough questions are ignored, discouraged, or advised that not enough praying has ensued.
• Members will inevitably spend more effort justifying their decisions than testing them.
• This is why churches thrive to this day and the same ideals have been regurgitated for a few millennia.
• As an atheist, getting your point across to a group versus an individual is like trying to hang out with one gang member versus the entire violent gang.  Sure, your gang friend is fun and can play a great round of Wii Bowling  in a 1 on 1 scenario, but as soon as his gang buddies join in, you better either be packing some heat, or escape quickly out the backdoor!

Leadership

• Many different varieties of leadership exists.  Determining whether or not you’ve ‘got the stuff’ to lead people is another question entirely.
• Atheists don’t necessarily have leaders, but they do have spokespeople who represent the local groups.  Herding atheists together is akin to herding cats.  Yes, they’ll all meow loudly and maybe eventually meander to where you’re trying to get them to go, but some will hide under the car, others in the attic.  Some will hiss and whine, or maybe they’ll just lick themselves and fall asleep.

• A participative leader will understand what the people (ie: cats) need.  He/she welcomes their meow as a valid opinion.  This style works best when group members are competent and motivated and get enough catnip.
• A supportive leader attends to group members’ emotional needs.  This style is helpful when members feel frustrated with a task or get discouraged with the group’s progress.  And who wouldn’t be occasionally frustrated when the religious right continually attempts to crush the progress by accusing your group of being soulless alleycats oppressing their freedom of religion?
• An achievement-oriented leader sets challenging goals and communicates high expectations and standards to members.  If it’s the big day to rally against the pro-lifers who are currently picketing the local Planned Parenthood, then this type of leader will encourage out-of-the-box thinking and keep you focused on tangible outcomes.  In this case, the outcome would be to make those guys look way outnumbered and foolish.
• Not all leaders demonstrate these qualities.  Surprisingly, some of them resort to poor ethical tactics such as bullying, or behaviors such as harsh criticism.  If the leader of your particular group suddenly begins to stick out his tongue, flip off, or become overly sarcastic towards the ‘other’ group you’re protesting, quickly jab a tazer into his (or her) neck and vote for a replacement.
• All paws up if you’re in agreement.

“Our Lady of Guadalupe”

Santa Maria de Guadalupe

(Written for my Spanish 101 assignment)

            In 1531, in the small farming village of Tepeyac (five miles north of what is now known as Mexico City), lived a poor Aztecan farmer named Juan Diego.  According to church doctrine, he is at the foundation of what would be a tremendous turning point for the religious direction for the people of his time.  The legend of his story begins during an afternoon on December 22^nd, while on his way to mass (the sacramental “breaking of bread”) at his church.  While on his walk, he noticed a bright light coming from the top of Tepeyac hill.  He decided to investigate its source and climbed the hillside.  What he discovered has turned into both a mysterious ‘sign from God’ to millions of followers, and an unsolved phenomenon to skeptics and scientists.

To his amazement, once Juan arrived at the source of this brilliant light, Jesus’s mother, the Virgin Mary, appeared in front of him.  She explained to Juan that she was sent from God to instruct him to build a temple on this very spot, and he must go immediately to relay this to the local village priest.  Juan questioned this request by saying, “But he will never believe me.  I’m just a poor farmer.”  Soothingly, she replied by saying that he needed to have faith that he would believe.

Juan did as he was told and visited with the powerful, but kind, Bishop.  As he guessed, the Bishop did not believe this story.  He was a skeptical man and demanded that some form of proof should be presented with this claim.

Discouraged, Juan left the chambers and returned to the hill to talk to Mary about what happened.  Mary assured him to not worry about this.  She then asked him to continue to the top of Tepeyac and find some roses to offer to the Bishop.  So, he did as told.  Once he reached the top, he was amazed to find it blanketed in Rose de Castille (The Rose of Castille), a pink, loosely petalled flower which had never been observed to survive in winter months.  It normally needs a full summer sun to flourish.  But, there it was all the same.

Juan gathered as much as he could in his Tilmátli, a cape-like garment made of ayate fibers (a course material derived from the threads of the maguey agave).  He took the roses back to the Bishop as an offering for the proof of his claim.  At first the Bishop seemed curious as to how he could find a rose which wasn’t supposed to be in season, but as Juan let the flowers fall to the ground, they witnessed the miracle he’d been sent for.  The pigment from the roses had left a large color imprint of the Virgin Mary on the front of his tilmátli.  The Bishop fell to his knees and exclaimed that it was indeed a sign from God and that it should be displayed for all to witness first-hand.

The cape was placed in a special facility for public viewing.  In the aftermath, within 3 years, millions of Aztec Indians converted to Roman Catholicism.  A shrine was then built on the same hill where Juan first spoke with Mary.  Her image was prominently hung on the wall and titled, “Our Lady of Guadalupe” (after a village in Spain).  Over the centuries to follow, the Catholic church allowed details to be added, including a cherub, gold coloring, as well as the red and white colors of Mexico.

Since 1976 it has been housed behind glass in a special facility.  Each year millions of devout followers travel thousands of miles to worship, admire, and pray to this image.  However, there has also been skepticism throughout its history, including priests of the church itself.  In 1789, a skeptical priest asked a group of physicians and eleven master artists to test the authenticity of this ‘miracle’.  The first century of its display it was subjected to a high concentration of salt peter in the humid desert air.  While the possibility of this cactus-cloth surviving more than 20 years without being overrun and destroyed by fungus seemed highly unlikely, let alone almost 500 years, it remained a mystery as to how it could be so.  Considering the odds against it, the pigment remained and the material hasn’t suffered much from cracking, nor has it lost any of the original colors.

In 1979, Americans Jody Smith and Phillip Callahan were given permission to study Mary’s image using infrared scanning technology.  They determined that no special techniques had been used to preserve the cloth, as well as no “undersketch” (the first-draft sketch most artists use when creating a portrait).  While this hardly proves it to be a miracle as defined by the millions upon millions of people who continue to believe this as a sign from God, it does perplex skeptics who have no solid conclusion to lay claim to its odd-defying longevity.

Santa Maria de Guadalupe:  Her message of love, compassion, and her universal promise of help and protection to all, remains a solid part of the Catholic belief and a bewildering topic of discussion for many others.

Sources:

Unsolved Mysteries: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_k8E-f92sr0

Sancta.org: http://www.sancta.org/intro.html

Mexican holidays and traditions: http://www.dltk-kids.com/world/mexico/traditions.html

Rose of Castile: http://www.ces.ncsu.edu/depts/hort/consumer/factsheets/roses/autumndamask.htm

Once upon a time we decided to go camping…

I brought along my trusty Aardvark, and a Bat to beat the Cat.  I had Dino-bites to snack on, but the Elephant ate them causing him to Fart on his friend, the Giraffe.

We ate Hali’butt’ for dinner (after we’d run out of  Dino-bites) as we drove around in Lucas’s Igloo car, sitting on a Jellyfish  pillow (after it stung the halibut to death)while flying a Kite and munching on Lemonheads.  Alex played Minecraft and Sarah had the month of November in one pocket, and a mini-Octopus in the other.

I stopped to smell the Petunias, pulled my Quadricep, then Ripped my pants.  I sadly sat on a Stool and paid the Toll.

Just then, a 4-horned Unicorn came into camp.  We yelled, “Victory is ours!!” into the Walkie-talkie, and then played the Xylophone.

We then screamed, “Yeeeeeah-boooooyyeeee!” and took some much needed ZZzzzzzzz‘s….

The End

**This was ‘created’ over a 2 hour time span while stuck in a car with 3 kids, 2 adults, and a whole lotta time to kill.  Each person begins with, “I went camping once…” and then picks the next letter of the alphabet to describe the thing they were doing/bringing on the trip.  I started with Aardvark, Sarah brought a Bat, Alex packed his cat, and Lucas ate Dino-bites.  Each person, before saying their letter ‘thing’, has to begin the whole story from the beginning.  If you forget your place, letter, or what that thing was doing… then you’re out of the game.  Thus, it ends when the last person gets to “Z”.  It ends up being a game of “telephone’, as each person twists the story by ad-libbing the context of the story each time it goes around.

Great way to kill time!

Chapter One

– Leaps of Nonfaith –

“We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned,

so as to have the life which is waiting for us.  

The old skin has to shed before the new skin can come.”  ~ Joseph Campbell

               Over the past 2 years, I’ve found myself settling in with the term, Atheist, with an obscure comfort.  That comfortable space has lead to what I’ll loosely consider: the history of my nonfaith…

              Through casual theological conversation (a massive irony) with someone of no belief, it may appear to a believer of any higher power (whether it’s God, Osiris, Christ, Ra, Dionysus, Zeus, or Poseidon* –to name a few out of thousands developed by man) that the non-believer was either raised this way, some traumatic event took place in their life, or they’re just misguided and confused with nothing in their life soul-shaking enough to guide them to the correct path of spirituality.  Perhaps they just haven’t heard the good word of Christ, or attended the “right” church to hear the magical influential sermon which would somehow free them from the bonds of Satan’s grasp and turn them to back to the Lord’s loving hands from which we all didn’t come from.  Maybe the faithful person chooses to see themselves as one of God’s chosen few; who somehow blessed them with the miracle of being placed on the earth through divine means to a pre-determined set of parents, and sadly, the non-believer just ‘doesn’t get it’, never will, and since they’re an atheist anyway – has no soul in the first place.

            Or, it could be that cultural tradition and social customs are difficult patterns to be independent of, and throughout the generations the cycle continues without any hindsight or foresight or questions asked.  The human species has a natural tendency to group with those who are likeminded; those stuck in the same ruts, enjoying similar ways of looking at things, and carry with them common prejudices.  This is why faith works so well and why the world is so over-populated with religious followers. The social pressures of continuing a tradition sparked by our ancestors simply because it’s “the way we’ve always done things” is both a comfort and a curse.  On one hand, you’ve gained the acceptance of the majority of the apples still clinging to your family tree (both alive and rotten), but you’ve also carried with you the weight of severely outdated ideals and idioms; many of which died after the fall of so many ancient civilizations that existed long before we could even fathom what their lives must have been like. Long before versions of the Holy Books most people study today even existed.  Long before our current customs were in place, or the English language was invented.  Back when it was a sin to wear certain types of clothing together, eat split-hoofed animals, not fornicate when commanded to by the king, work on Sunday, etc. etc. Yet we continue to rationalize away our very existence and purpose as a species on a superstitious whim… or, wishful thinking… based upon an ancient set of rules, in hopes that it’s right just because, “I don’t want to make the mistake of not believing, and then be wrong in front of God on judgment day.”

            I didn’t begin my personal trek as an Atheist fresh from the womb (even though all babies are born without any theistic impressions or influence –it’s the guardians who instill their personal fears as doctrine, and their personal doctrines as fear).  In fact, the simple mention of the “A-word” was strictly taboo and never something brought up at any point throughout my youth by anyone in my family, or extended family, or friends.  It was a word which associated people with a sin perhaps worse than Satanism (a very misunderstood ‘religion’).  Only relatively recently have I come to terms with where I am in the grand scope of this immensely large universe we’re a part of.  I’m feeling more at peace now than any other time in my life to safely be able to say, without the looming dread of death, or tortured forever in Hell, or being judged by an invisible made-up fairytale man in the sky to whom I’m required to simultaneously fear and love, that I am in fact very much an atheist.  Being able to say this without cringing has come from an exhaustive search for truth by shedding away a thick coating of deep mental conditioning over a long period of time and grief… and a profound realization of what truly defines one as an atheist.  That is what this multi-part blog is all about.

            Actually, up until just a few years ago, I still referred to myself as an “agnostic free-thinker”.  My ignorant understanding of agnosticism could be simply defined as a feeling that there’s something out there bigger than us; but the man-created version of a monotheistic superpower was hard pill to swallow even from an early age of 8 when I was baptized as a Mormon by my father.

            I was actually relieved when I was first baptized.  For, just weeks prior, my mother was doing laundry and inevitably discovered magazine clippings of hardcore late-70’s porn in my pants pockets.  The fence which made up the parameter of my elementary school was littered with these pages and I’d skip many hours of class for my research.  Regardless, mom found them all in my pants.  Perhaps that’d be considered catching me with “my pants down”?  Perhaps not.  But what it did do was inspire her to draw out stick-figures of two very anatomically incorrect individuals in a sexual position I’d already seen in full color a few hours ago.  Plus, just weeks before all of that, the sweet little neighbor girl was playing a game of truth & dare with me in her backyard clubhouse.  My daring dare..?  To show off an insignificant section of my undiepants (Giggle giggle teehee).  Within the same day, I was focusing my attention on her mother’s braless chest as she did the vacuuming in the house.  I’d like to think she was aware of my glazed-over eyes perusing her supple bosom (up until that point I’d only seen such beauty in those infamous scattered clippings and when I’d snuck through my parent’s old boxes of Mad Magazines), but it’s also around the same time she introduced me to my first encounter with a Dolly Parton album… you know, the one with the awesome 3-page fold out?  Islands in the Stream, indeed… she did that shit on purpose.

            The swift action of dunking me under a pool of blessed tub water to wash away the sins I’d so carelessly smothered myself in within those 8 short years seemed like a rational response at the time, I’m sure, by my parents.  I was eight, after all.  That’s the common law of the church.  It began to be pounded into me that I only had that one chance to repent.  Additional transgressions would come at a price.  My soul was on the line here.  Either I shaped up, or I would regret it as an adult.  And, even worse, regret it eternally when my soul would learn the unfortunate news that I’d lost the lottery and therefore stood zero chances of ever seeing my family again in the afterlife.  Worse still was the possibility of never getting to rule my own planet. This rocked me to the core with fear, guilt, and horrible confusion.

            I wasn’t allowed to ask questions about this.  But frankly, what questions would I have known to ask?   At the time I had no idea of the back story of this new way of life.  Joseph Smith was someone I couldn’t relate to at all.  He was a glowing oddity always pictured kneeling in front of more floating glowing oddities.  I was required to respect Him, Them, gain a personal testimony about it all, and stumble through the following years not even understanding why the hell I was supposed to do it in the first place.  Was that the Holy Ghost I was feeling, or just one of the dozen voices we all hear rattling around our heads?  How in the world was one supposed to tell the difference between them?  Pray and pray some more, that’s how.  All I understood was I apparently had a destiny to follow, sex is bad (m’kay) until you’re married (and even then you’ll struggle to keep it interesting), and asking too many questions will always result with the response from everyone, “You need to pray about it” (because we don’t really have an answer to sustain your curiosity).

            Church, church, Cub Scouts, school, church, Shaklee, Skittles, repeat.

            Such is the standard tradition in my family, as it is with almost all family you can hit with a dart on a map of the world (minus the Scouts and powdered milk sales).  I’ve heard the fascinating story of our Mormon ancestors crossing the plains of Utah a modest number of times. Each Sunday I’d reluctantly don my polyester button-up shirt and clip-on tie, smack my kid brother in the head when the parents weren’t looking, load into the family station wagon and drive to the building I’d spend the next 3-4 hours trying not to fall asleep in.  The only exciting parts were the goodies my mom would pack in her purse for Sacrament Meeting and when she’d tickle letters on my back to see if I could guess what she was writing (usually: I Love You, Dougie).  For about 5 years we continued this trend.  My entire childhood consisted of maybe 1 or 2 friends at any given time (one of which recently wrote me off completely because I speak too freely to dispel religious myths nowadays).  I walked with my head down, was picked on repeatedly, questioned my sexuality, and generally loathed myself.  This was because my sense of purpose never made much sense.  No ritual, tradition, prayer, nor church session ever brought me clarity I could measure, or answers that didn’t seem too unreachable to make it worth listening to.  It wasn’t until my mid-teens when I slowly and secretly began peeling back those layers of myself to reveal what should’ve been obvious all along… that everything I was hearing as a response to my prayers wasn’t anything divine, but instead  subconscious flickers of imagination created by the sheer power of wanting my unsubstantiated beliefs to become real things.

*editors note:  It has been brought to my attention that I’ve left Thor out of the list of Gods.  How could I forget about Thor?!  I blame it on 2am insomnia…  Sorry, Thor!  Put that hammer back down!

Filed under: Ch1- Leaps of Nonfaith, The Belief in I ]]> http://jadedfish.com/2011/08/03/the-belief-in-i-and-the-eye-of-belief-ch1/feed/ 0 JadedFish The Crown Of Thorns http://jadedfish.com/2011/01/28/the-daddy-complex/ http://jadedfish.com/2011/01/28/the-daddy-complex/#comments Fri, 28 Jan 2011 18:32:54 +0000 Serendipitous Fiasco http://jadedfish.com/?p=394 ]]>

Kids? What kids?

The only relationship I recall my parents having was a volatile one. They divorced when I was a baby, so I was lucky enough to miss the emotional effects of my parents divorce. Yay me!! For the first years of my life that I actually have memories, I have little recollection of my dad. He moved to a town a few hours away, which made it even harder to see him. The memories I do have are pretty negative. Looking back as an adult, I can almost see the lessons being cemented into my brain. “Why doesn’t he want to see me? I must not be good enough.” Ah yes, the “good enough” complex so many adults have these days. Getting rid of this complex once it embeds itself into your psyche is damn near impossible. Looking out my window down the street from our house, seeing my dad’s car parked out in front of his friend’s house, not knowing he was coming to town is the first extreme emotional pain I experienced as a small child. My mom tried so hard to shield my brother and I from these instances, but she couldn’t protect us from everything. I remember her calling him and chewing him out, but he didn’t come to town to visit US, so we didn’t get to see him. He blames my mom for being SO difficult. Well, when you only see your kids once or twice a year and don’t pay child support, that usually doesn’t make the mother of your kids feel like doing you any favors. Hmmm…what a weird concept.

Fast forward a few years…Mom got a divorce, fell apart, older brother moved out, and I was left to my own devices. Being about 12 years old, left alone, I had a great time getting into trouble. Word got to my dad, and he decided he was going to play his never-used Dad Card. I went to visit him for the summer, and was blindsighted by the fact that I was staying there for good. No goodbyes to friends, family, nothing. I had a hard time in school, got into a lot of trouble, and lived in a haze. I raised hell there until I was 15. One fateful day, my stepmom’s sister (who is my age) came to visit. I was going out with my friends and was forced to take her along to show her a good time. Well, she was a psychopath who turned on me as soon as she was out of my stepmom’s sight. I was embarrassed in front of my friends and didn’t know what to do. I tried asking her to stop being a psycho. She got crazier. We arrived at a friend’s house, got out of my friend’s car, and she threw a punch at me. Completely unprovoked, just being a troublemaker. I was stunned, but my friends jumped to action and she took a few good hits from them. Everyone eventually calmed down and she wanted to stay, regardless of what had happened. It seemed those hits to the head had knocked some sense into her, because for the rest of the night she was actually fun to be around. She acted normal finally, was nice to everyone, and acted like she had forgotten the whole incident. We got home the next day and I went straight to bed because we had pulled an all-nighter.  I was woken up by my stepmom barging into my room screaming and hitting my legs to wake me up. She had spun a completely different tale to my stepmom. My friends and I had held her captive, literally tied her up, beat her, and forced her to play Russian Roulette. WOW!! What a story! Most sensible adults would call bullshit as soon as they heard this scandalous tale, but my stepmom is the farthest thing from a sensible person. She is dramatic, a tad delusional, calculating, and manipulative. She is very good at these skills, which is why she has been able to convince everyone she is a saint. I realized I had no chance of getting her to believe what I had to say, so I didn’t even try. I listened as the sister, my stepmom, and my stepsister “modified” her wounds from the fight with makeup, then took pictures to prove my heinous brutality. I thought my dad would come home, see this insanity, and be infuriated that they were doing this to me. Oh no, never count on dear old dad, you idiot. Haven’t you learned anything?? He became infuriated with me, and I sat for hours, then a couple days, as they took turns screaming at me, telling me how awful of a person I was, and saying every hurtful thing they could think of. Threats of jail, being disowned, and sporadic bouts of slapping me, this went on for days. Then they called my mom. I was still harboring extreme resentment toward my mom for falling apart and abandoning me. The worst thing they could do is send me back to her, and they knew it. Mom came to my rescue at 3 A.M. with the promise that I’d only be gone for the weekend. Once again, I was gone for good with no goodbyes to friends, or anyone. I had to finish my Freshman year of high school in summer school. After all this, my dad and I didn’t speak  for a few years. Imagine that.
During my senior year of high school, I started dating this kid who seemed nice. I only wanted to be with people I knew were not as smart as I was, and not as “cool” as me, so I wouldn’t get hurt anymore. Why would HE leave ME?? He’d have to be crazy! Two months into our relationship, I found out I was pregnant. I had begun talking to my dad again here and there, and when I told him I was pregnant, he was more excited than anything. I think he thought of this as a chance for redemption, or some twisted version of it. He walked me down the aisle for my wedding, was present for the birth of my first child, I thought he was finally trying to be my dad. This had been my dream my whole life, who cares if he’s 18 years late? All can be forgiven, let’s just move on! I want my daddy!! I had two more children within the next two years, I was induced and let him know far in advance when they would be born. He didn’t show. Was everything I ever wanted slipping away already?? Why wasn’t I important enough to him? What am I doing wrong? After three kids with a guy I could barely stand, and a marriage that was progressively getting worse everyday, I decided I was done. I realized I had married a man exactly like my dad. Unreliable, selfish, completely unconcerned about being a good father, and I was astounded I could force my beloved children into the same daddy situation I had grown up in. I will never forgive myself for doing this to my babies. All I can do now is try to lessen the emotional blows I know they will take from him.
During my post-divorce downward spiral, I had my dad now and then, when I was on the “good” list. My brother and I could never be on the good list at the same time, and the time you were allowed to be on this elusive list was limited. One month you were the golden child, and the next you were scum. Always alternating who is good and who is bad. This was a constant mindf*ck. I came out of my crazy spiral, went to school, moved to a different town, got a good job, and was doing great. My kids and I saw my dad very few times, yet my kids were expected to have a large place in their hearts for him. My kids are very young, and can’t live up to these expectations. If you’re not seeing them, calling them, or coming to visit frequently, they have no idea who you are. My dad was always offended by this, and I could never understand it. I was lucky enough during this time period to find the man I’m now married to. I was so happy and life was great. I was shocked when my dad came to my wedding reception (it was a month after our tiny wedding), and thought I was on the good list again. Yay!! The roller coaster of being constantly judged and put on different lists was wearing on me. Is it worth it to feel loved by my dad? Being constantly manipulated and jumping through hoops, is it really worth it?
I wrestled with these thoughts for a few months, then decided to just talk to my dad about all these thoughts I was having. I sent him an email because I would have bawled my eyes out if I’d have called him. I felt it was a direct, but not hateful, email telling him how I felt. I never expected the venom-filled email I got in return. That email was the last straw for me. I had finally had enough. I wrote a response to his email, and he responded by telling me not to contact him again. At first I was shocked, infuriated, then I was crushed and depressed. That was October of 2009… In December, my kids were sent gift cards, my daughter’s wasn’t even addressed to her, they’d written my niece’s name instead. Good thing she couldn’t read at the time. I didn’t call him on his birthday, he didn’t call me on mine, and this Christmas they didn’t attempt to get the kids anything. I didn’t expect them to, and they shouldn’t have to. My kids didn’t notice…
My birthday was yesterday, and around 8 P.M. I received a text from dear old dad saying “Happy birthday”. No more, no less. This sent me into a tailspin, which is why I felt I had to write this blog today. I’ve been holding this all inside for so long, and just as it gets bearable, he decides to do this. When I was younger, I would have been ecstatic, forgiven everything, and apologized for any wrongdoing he felt I had done. I would have tried to get him back in my life, and make everything right. This time, I am not so willing to do that. I have diligently weeded out every person in my life who isn’t a positive force, why should I allow him back into the mix? He has been the MOST damaging force. I feel I have nothing to apologize for. Honesty is important to me, why should I be dishonest for him to love me?  I should be able to speak my mind, good or bad, if he really cares about me. Maybe I am completely wrong. Maybe my perception of my dad throughout my life is totally different than reality. I’ve tried seeing it differently, and I just can’t. The facts are the facts. What hurts the most is knowing how much I love my own children, and knowing he has never had that same love for me. Trying to put the blame on him instead of myself has had the potential of eating me alive at times. But really, what could I have done as a baby or a small child that would make him treat me this way? Nothing. This is his flaw, not mine. Making myself truly believe that will probably never happen, but I’m sure trying. I refuse to be consumed by something that isn’t mine to own.
There is so much more to this story, but if I put in everything besides the defining moments I would have to write a novel. I’ve already spent enough time dwelling on this, and am going to concentrate on just letting go.