Dream Client Rebrand: Atheism
Dostoevsky once wrote: “If God did not exist, everything would be permitted”; and that, for existentialism, is the starting point. Everything is indeed permitted if God does not exist, and man is in consequence forlorn, for he cannot find anything to depend upon either within or outside himself. He discovers forthwith, that he is without excuse.” ― Jean Paul Sartre, Existentialism is a Humanism
Hello! I am an Atheist.
Whew, that made me feel dizzy. Before I continue I feel the need for two disclaimers:
Disclaimer #1: The goal …
The following is an extremely brief recount of my personal journey from being a part of a religion to not being a part of one anymore. In this leap of anti-faith I have landed where thousands of others have also wandered, except there is no church or community to welcome us. I hope that in discussing this topic I do not offend, I instead provide a different perspective on what Atheism means to me, and how much positivity it’s brought into my life. My goal is to be more open about it, so that others might feel the same urge to spread some joy over a topic that has been so shrouded in darkness.
Disclaimer #2: Is this discussion appropriate for your professional website!?
As a photographer and writer I hope that my pursuit of art is an authentic one. A safe space to publicly reflect on the nature of the world in which I create that art has not been made obvious to me, so I will start here. I’ve been given the third degree at dinners and at social gatherings (which we can’t have now anyways), so really there’s nowhere better place than here and time than now. The mountain of lukewarm, “blah-g” content out there has company enough, I want to introduce something else. I’d like you to meet the weirdo on the fringe who is waiting to be brought into the circle. Simply put, if you came here for a blog about Lightroom presets and how to get your subjects to laugh on cue, you’re going to get more than you bargained for today!
Back to it, shall we?
Hi, me again, your friendly Atheist. It sounds like a dirty word, and I even put the word friendly before it! I mean it makes sense, check out the company it keeps on thesaurus.com & in Merriam-Webster:
agnostic (technically not accurate)
skeptic (I’m way past skepticism)
infidel (wow, ok)
free-thinker (sweet, a positive one!)
Pagan (what the actual?)
Non-believer (negative energy much?)
Misbeliever (ok, now I prefer non-believer)
Giaour (don’t even get me started on this ancient slur)
So where are all the positive attributes to being an Atheist? There aren’t many I can find online. It’s just a soup of Richard Dawkins videos with terrible comments about him being satan, and some terribly designed memes about science. Our godless “community” can’t hold a Wiccan candle to the all-powerful Christianity that has taken over celebrity culture, pop star acceptance speeches, every sport ever, the top job in the USA, and yes, even every corner of the mom-fluencer market on social media.
In my hopes to bring a more positive light to this oft-described “dark art,” I need to figure out why I personally feel ashamed in talking about it without guilt. And with that trigger word, cue next topic:
It’s more than likely I struggle with labelling myself as an Atheist because I was raised Catholic from birth through high school. I don’t just mean church on Sundays, I mean, prayers 5+ times a day (plus sometimes when a siren wails), from Kindergarten until 12th grade. I’ve acted as both Mother Mary and Mary Magdalene, and yes that is also a metaphor. I’ve once donned a fake beard and carried the cross as Jesus in an Easter play. I’ve been through four of the seven rites (Baptism, Eucharist, Confirmation and Reconciliation) and spent many hours reading the Bible and watching Sunday school cartoons.
In 1990, when I was at the start of my religious education at the way-too-tender-for-this-shit age of four, over 85% of the population identified as Christian. 2019’s study is now closer to 65%. There are two takeaways here for me. 1) Being a part of a religious society (Christianity, Catholicism, etc.) is still the majority, however, 2) it is declining.
The dissent of people like me choosing to leave a religion is done in a whisper if a sound is even uttered at all. The only discussion with my family happened almost 20 years later when I asked my dad if he had any regrets in life (we don’t love small talk at our table) and he said, “I regret you didn’t stay the course with your religion.” For context, my dad has always loved and supported all of his kids’ paths in life. But the very fact that the person I am closest to in my life was thinking silently about my religious choice for over a decade, proves to me how religion remains such a closely guarded topic.
“You are -- your life, and nothing else.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit
My journey “out” is ironic when studying in hindsight. The very schools that gave me detention if we didn’t sing hymns loud enough, also hired teachers that exposed existential authors like Sartre. That rabbit-hole led me to pursue more teachers and ask more questions. I found writers like Kerouac who wrote unlike anyone else I had studied before. He said things like, “I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted,” (Dharma Bums). It was the complete opposite of how a good Catholic was supposed to live, and I knew deep down I couldn’t be the only girl in the world who clutched On The Road to my heart like a floatation device.
Add on top my buddhist ancestry and the questions started to pile on - none of which my parents or priests could answer to my satisfaction. I should note I have glazed over a segment of my life where I rebelliously pursued Wicca (that joke above was no joke) but after spending all my allowance on spell books I realized I was still praying to something out there that was supposed to take care of my problems for me. I had traded hymns, confessions, and white gloves for Veruca Salt, potions and eyeliner.
While I continued to chip away at these questions the heaviness of the unknown actually started to melt away. Having myself at the “wheel” instead of “Jesus” gave me a control in my late teens that had only belonged to my parents and God before. Movies like I heart Huckabees and Waking Life paired with books like The God Delusion and The Stranger, eventually cracked the floodgates open.
I had a new bible and it wasn’t one book, it was every book. I devoured literature and movies like it was no one’s business and eventually decided I wanted a career in it. My life turned on. Instead of being scared of death and my “sins,” I reveled in the beauty of the life I had. Up until then I was spending all my free time returning the favor for this “gift” of life in places that favored empty ritual over actions. When you stop living with the cloud over your teenage head that no one died for you, well, wave goodbye to the guilt. I began to respect and revel in the world, and in the now, there was simply no time for a distant and unknowable salvation.
My appreciation for life made me feel more in control than ever. It wasn’t a dark and scary “what does it all mean?!” moment, it was an excited exclamation that “it doesn’t really matter, and therefore life is precious, rare, and unlikely to return,” or even more shocking, “it ends.” Live the life you’ve always wanted. How amazing are you to be here, now, in this moment?
Mary Oliver famously asks, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do, with your one wild and precious life?” and I’ve found so much joy in my attempts to answer her.
Between the ages of 12-18 I went through this transformation and it also aligned with some of the hardest years of my life. Proof in my case that religion didn’t need to save me from a hard upbringing, in fact, the severing of it gave me hope again. But, it was better than hope, because I wasn’t idle, waiting for my future to be created. In the absence of an all-seeing eye that controlled my path, you step into the shoes as destiny-maker, and what 18 year old wouldn’t love to be that?
In summary, This is just the beginning.
Freedom from religious persecution is a real and dangerous topic. I understand the weight, the historical reasons why we must protect and let patrons of faith practice without judgement. However, I also want to create space for myself and others like me. Where are our societies and after-school meetups? Would my daughter’s future school accept an “atheists club?” Would there be a safe place for us in a town hall meeting, or dare I say, at the federal level? If my dreams can come true of a minority woman as vice-president, are my dreams of an Atheist one far off?
I’ve been told that writing about being an Atheist is not a great idea because I might be rejecting future friendships of anyone belonging to a faith. Who knows, in my ramblings I may have lost getting close to some people, but some of my closest friends come from different religions, so that’s not really the issue I am concerned about. That question only railroads the purpose of my writing about Atheism in the first place. I am here exposing myself to this sensitive topic and baring all, because I am curious what are our rights? If I did not want to say the religious part of the national anthem, could I be denied citizenship? And what of acceptance? Could I comfortably bring up the separation of church and state at a family dinner the way that many bring a prayer into a family circle without asking?
I would like to think that if we can be more comfortable writing these sort of thoughts down in places that might get others involved, the tide could turn for the positive. We could choose from a list synonyms that represent more accurately our excitement and joy for life. I am sick of being a heathen. But finally, I am at a loss for words, any suggestions?