Spiritual Skepticism

Recently in a Facebook status, I wondered what the overall overlap between women and non-men who are skeptic/atheist/freethinkers and also witches/wiccan/pagan looks like. Because I do know quite a few of us just locally. And why.

Thinking about “the why,” this is what I came up with: community, ritual, shiny rocks, fire, fashion, queerness, and upsetting the patriarchy/kyriarchy.

But how can skepticism and belief in the supernatural coexist? I don’t necessarily mean belief, but the witchy/new age practices are common in my circles, for some of the reasons mentioned above.

I’m atheist but find meditative and creative-thinking value in reading tarot cards; community, connection, support, and grounding in a monthly women’s full moon circle; and personal empowerment in creating art, personal rituals, and altar design. I don’t have to believe the supernatural aspects to find that focusing my thoughts on something helps me foster calmness, reduce anxiety, explore and process complex feelings, and work through personal trauma, struggles, etc.

The Truth behind any practice matters less than the effect. The mind is very powerful, and we're constantly seeing new and fascinating studies that validate many things previously thought to be “woo woo.” Meditation, for example, is often viewed or practiced with a spiritual bent but has buckets of data showing its impact on mitigating stress, anxiety, depression, and more.

Also, skepticism does not invalidate belief in one’s self, one’s choices to practice rituals that provide structure, focus, and community.

Independent of supernatural accuracy and prediction, to learn or receive a tarot reading requires concentration and creativity to identify the ways that different symbols and ideas connect to your life and your world.

Belief in an all-powerful deity and community worship at a church may not suit us, but community and the belief that we CAN affect our world does. Especially as women and read-as-women people.

Community and ritual have value independent of belief in any one thing. Many of these ideas are the reason that Unitarian Universalist churches exist. Various belief systems share common threads, but rigid dogma drives people away. No matter your path, your experience of the world and relationship to whatever deity or power is going to be totally unique, because we are all individuals.

Many witches of yore were just pharmacists and physicians anyway. And a second component of community is not just seeking it for oneself but feeling driven to support others as well. [Something something paradigm of healers, caretakers, mothers, sisterhood, etc. — a thought that won’t fully coalesce just now.]

Ancient goddesses are fascinating characters and a joy to learn about, belief or no. Studying these characters, cultures, and myths is more than entertaining; it’s educational, too. Same goes for learning about crystals and other shiny rocks, plants, herbs, and oils. And who doesn’t like to smell nice things?

I mentioned queerness above. We know that the holy texts of the biggest religions condemn homosexuality and other queer existence even more than they subjugate women. When the religions we grew up with make it clear they don't want us, where do we go?

As for myself, Catholicism drove me away in my teens, though my dissatisfaction with being a second-class person because of dogma began when I was 8. In college I briefly read about pagan practices but felt they were still too rigid and too similar to Catholic practice and Mass. I found my way toward movement atheism, but it’s not as if movement atheism is super welcoming toward non-men and POC. Turns out that skepticism ≠ empathy.

Eventually, I meandered into my own skeptical spiritualism, which includes tarot, meditation, creating art, learning about and wearing shiny rocks, and meeting monthly with a group of women and non-men for ritual, support, and cathartic release.

We rarely hear about this skeptic/spiritual overlap in part because it’s intimidating to identify as both practitioner and non-believer. One fears her skeptical friends will react with disdain and that her pagan friends will take offense to her disbelief as perhaps invalidating or disrespecting their practice.

Below, I’m sharing some comments from friends on the topic:

N. “I was a jerk about tarot before. I finally got a reading from a friend and it blew my mind. It just gave me so much to think on and work on within myself.”

M. “I kinda bounce between pagan/wiccan and atheist, kind of a hope there are gods and goddess at there. I am very much a skeptic though. Why: for me its the accepting nature, the rituals, the spiritual side, shiny rocks, fashion, it’s just idk comforting.”

N. “I know a lot of women who are either or but not both. I like incorporating candle lighting and contemplation to my "spiritual" practices. But i don't consider myself witchy. I am very drawn to it though.”

Z. “I am. Most (if not all) pagans I know subscribe to a non-religious pantheist "it's all the same, depends what you do with it" approach. That fits perfectly with questioning hierarchies and manipulations of control in most things. If you can manage to not believe in patriarchal monotheism in a society flooded by it, the rest will likely follow.”

H. “I've incorporated a lot of rituals, especially meditative ones, into my life and have always enjoyed tarot as a tool of introspection.”

J. “I'm agnostic and paganish, really just pretty MEH on the whole cosmos/binding philosophy front in general.”

C. “Once I would never have been able to fathom an overlap. But now I'm a faithiest who goes to UU services on occasion. I like the introspection that some of these practices can bring. It's not at all what I thought it would be.”

J.D. “Raised catholic but realized science wins over human stupidity. Dating a Native American has brought out my dormant Taino Indian juju, but I still feel like more of a Jedi; we're all connected somehow.”

K. “I consider myself a past Pagan, current atheist. But even when I was a practicing and believing Pagan, I was a skeptic.”

A Post on Privilege and Coming Out

When an acquaintance admitted to being very mainstream, part of the dominant Christian culture, and concerned about making others uncomfortable with her ignorance, a few of us chimed in to thank her and offer perspective and suggestions. Here are mine.

Some of the issues that are integral to who we are but that we feel we have to hide are sexual orientations, gender queerness, alternative romantic and sexual relationships, religious/spiritual beliefs and lack thereof, social and political beliefs and activism, and even our passionate support of everyone else in these categories.

Lead your questions with "May I ask ... ?" in a gentle tone. It's very respectful, and I, for one, respond very positively to it—eager to inform and comfortable with declining if I don't want to discuss it in that moment. If someone is brave enough to open up to you, understand that they may or may not feel up to giving you the full alt-lifestyle 101 lecture, and that you are not entitled to be educated by them. There are hundreds of blogs and articles and books about it; ask for reading recommendations if you want to learn more.*

We censor ourselves in front of our family, our coworkers, and new people we meet, ever wary of the climate in any group. Some of us have come out to people who we expected to love us unconditionally and received some traumatic fucking backlash because of their selfishness and close-mindedness. And it's scarier still to imagine how acquaintances and strangers might react.

I'm a very privileged, educated, intelligent, middle-class, cis-presenting, hetero-presenting, conventionally attractive, slim, and able-bodied white woman living in a safe neighborhood. What could I possibly have to complain about?

• But I am terrified to talk about my relationships at work or family gatherings. My family doesn't know that I've been with my boyfriend for nearly 2 years; they don't know about him at all. My coworkers know but not why we can't move in together or marry.
  
• I'm afraid in most spaces to share HAES concepts, because dieting is so firmly entrenched in our cultural narrative and I don't like it when people think me daft for espousing such ideas, no matter how much science backs me up. Or worse, many think me ignorant of reality and my own weight discredits me.
  
• I'm warming to the idea of coming out as atheist, at least in friendly spaces where the issue comes up, but I still kept fearfully silent at a Meetup event this week with an enthusiastic believer.

I admire those out there with the bravery to live fully open, and I try to be kind to myself and refrain from berating myself for not doing the same. I've discussed it with my boyfriend, and we're on the same page of not wanting to spark anger, backlash, and disappointment directed at us; we spend enough energy coping with life's difficulties. I choose my battles and closets carefully, and I still spend a large chunk of my time stressed out, anxious, worried, depressed, and sleeping poorly.

I'm not sure I'll ever feel safe enough to come out of all these closets, but I do think someday I will be strong enough.



*She did, and I led off with Skepchick and Queereka because they're very intersectional. Another friend recommended The Friendly Atheist. What resources would you suggest?

One life is enough

There is no blackboard in the sky on which God has written your purpose, your mission in life. There's no blackboard in the sky that says, Neil Donald Walsch... handsome guy... who lived in the first part of the twenty-first century who, colon... and then there's a blank, you know. And all I have to do to really understand what I'm doing here, why I'm here, is to find that blackboard and find out what God really has in mind for me. But the blackboard doesn't exist. 

So your purpose is what you say it is. 

Your mission is the mission you give yourself. 

Your life will be what you create it as, and no-one will stand in judgement of it, now or ever. - Neale Donald Walsch

Even when I did believe, faith was never what gave my life meaning. Life is about making it meaningful for yourself. Even when I did believe, I was a skeptic and couldn’t be certain I would get into Heaven, or that there was an afterlife at all, so it made little sense to shun worldly pleasures for a life of austere piety, gambling everything on a promise of a reward someday in eternity, easily 60, 70 years away. And, really, why would God give us this precious gift of life and expect us not to make the most of it? Perhaps I’ve always been a hedonist.

So here I find myself, an agnostic atheist. I can acknowledge that It’s entirely possible God does exist, but I just don’t care because it obviously doesn’t care about me or this planet, and I’m definitely not going to believe in an almighty creator petty enough to require the worship and adoration of its creation.

I can honestly say I’m not afraid of death. (Pain and suffering are another matter entirely.) I’ve lived a damn cool life: traveled the world, fallen in love, enjoyed fabulous food, swum with sharks, finished a half marathon, created art and learned many things. Sure, there’s more awesome stuff I’d like to see and do, but this life really is good enough. It’s unfortunate that people who care for me will miss me, but I’ll be dead so I can’t really care. Living forever doesn’t appeal to me.

"Do you believe in immortality? No, and one life is enough for me." -Einstein

Roger Ebert voices my feelings best:

“Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.

And Shel Silverstein:

“Draw a crazy picture,

Write a nutty poem,

Sing a mumble-gumble song,

Whistle through your comb.

Do a loony-goony dance

'Cross the kitchen floor,

Put something silly in the world

That ain't been there before.”

I’ve made some people happy and made some people think. And that is definitely enough. I’ve seen beautiful sights and that is a bonus, more than most can hope for.

AAC. pt. 3

I'm too lazy to write more for now, so I'll just link someone else's post.

Here are some of my pics:

Old friend I ran into, Bonaboo

New friend Jj

Condom demonstration: definitely big enough

BATS!

American Atheists Convention, pt 2

Surly Amy and other bloggers are more motivated than I to recap this event.

". . . here is Dr Richard Carrier’s talk called “Atheism… Plus What?” It’s an interesting and informative talk. He discusses the harassment that has been happening here and he talks about why we need to be cognizant of how the rest of the world views the atheist movement. It also explains how the Atheism Plus movement got started and why- and he touches on things we can do to make the Atheism community at large, bigger and better."

Matt Dillahunty on Skepticism and Atheism

American Atheists Convention, pt 1

The American Atheists Convention and 50th Anniversary was quite an experience. I won a grant from Surly Amy to cover the cost of my registration and drove down Thursday evening. A friend’s friends gave me crash space in their spare room, and we went out for pizza that night and then shared new music while they smoked hookah back at the apartment.

I got up nice and early to go to the first speech of Friday morning and locked my key in the trunk before I got to leave. I’ve never done that before in the decade since I learned to drive (locked ‘em in the cab once before and a few times in high school when the car was at the house with my mom and the spare just inside), so I felt pretty silly, but not terribly put out. The weather was lovely and cool, and the locksmith arrived in 20 minutes and quickly opened it up.

Once I got on the road, I had to try the Magnolia Café, which happened to be between the apartment and the hotel. It was very crowded but very quick. And I really enjoyed the Love Migas made with garlic butter. The convention was at the Hyatt only a mile from the café (three from the apt), but I circled 15 minutes in the wrong direction searching for the entrance hidden by the construction of a parking garage. Which meant there was little to no on-site parking, with valet at $15/day. I happened to find an unmarked lot a mere two blocks away and walked over.

As soon as I signed in and got my name tag, I heard someone call my name and looked up to see an old buddy from marching band, Bonaboo, whom I probably haven’t seen in at least 6 years. We were both surprised to see the other, and he was thrilled to run into me. He said he brings a Bible to every convention he attends. I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to sign it?” Oh, yes! He’s gotten some cool signatures and defacings from people he meets including some of the well-known speakers. What a neat idea for an autograph book, huh?

The prospect of spending the weekend alone surrounded by a thousand strangers had been pretty daunting, so hanging out with him and new friends we made was a welcome relief. We caught one speech and then headed out to find lunch, bumping into a Canadian couple also in search of the legendary food trucks a few blocks up. It was a warm day with a nice breeze, and we learned along the way that the couple was touring the US in their motorhome and this was their first convention, as well as mine and Bonaboo’s other friend there too.

Heading back, I saw a guy with a cat sitting on his backpack and asked if I could take a picture. We were confused as he hastily shook the cat off and then said he asks for a dollar or two, any loose change. “Oh, alright,” and we kept walking while he whined angrily about needing/expecting money from us. I shrugged it off but my companions were shocked that he was so rude about it. I asked nicely, but I don’t care that much about a cat picture; now I’ll just tell people about the asshole bum I met in Austin. If I’d had change in my pockets or hadn’t been in a rush or he hadn’t been such an entitled jerk, maybe I’d have gotten that picture.

The afternoon continued with more speakers, somewhat interesting but pretty dry. I got to meet Amy and thank her for the grant and peruse her jewelry but couldn’t decide on just one piece then. Bonaboo, Jessica, and I didn’t attend the $55 dinner and costume party, instead opting for pizza downtown before heading our separate ways early that evening. The lot I parked in was blocked off with an attendant charging for evening parking, but my car was there and safe, and I left with no problem. I killed a little bit of time at an adult novelty store down the block from the apartment and then got a delicious smoothie at a juice bar and began reading Good Omens before meeting up with my hosts and chatting a little bit before turning in.

---

Pictures and speech details coming soon.

Mom, Dad, I'm atheist.

I identified as agnostic until halfway through the second speech of the night on Friday at the UTD Secular Convention. Something the presenter said made it clear to me that I only lacked the vocabulary to explain my awe and wonder at the universe as something other than capital G- God. It's really just science and all of creation.

And anyway, atheism doesn't mean certain belief in no god but a lack of certain belief in gods, which is about right for me. We are not currently capable of proving without a doubt that there is or is not a deity, and if there is, I don't really care. Because I'm not going to worship one as petty and cruel as the Christian god.

Growing up in the Catholic Church was uncomfortable, and living under the yolk of infinite guilt and shame was downright traumatic. I wonder now if the taught guilt is what caused my generalized anxiety and whether I might not be a better functioning person without having developed it.

I first began questioning in elementary school after my First Reconciliation. Why did I feel such an abhorrence for a blessed sacrament, one of the big 7, no less? By 12 I had figured out that it was fucking ridiculous to require an intermediary to grant God's forgiveness. And looking back, compelling a 7-year-old girl under penalty of eternal damnation and hellfire to tell an old man that she touches herself is morally repugnant and wrong in every way, though I think I lied about this most times. And I believed that my doubt would be my holy burden to bear.

I went through the sacrament of Confirmation, which means receiving the Holy Spirit and becoming an adult member of the church, dedicating oneself to the Catholic Church once one has reached the age of discretion, an age that varies between dioceses and was 13 in mine. Because 13-year-old children are capable of logic and reason enough to have found their way out of the last dozen years of daily indoctrination. Not.

Anyway, I was pretty excited about the honor at the time. Part of the preparation is to choose the name of a saint and write a report about him or her. I don't remember the purpose, but the saint would be one you admired, and their name became a part of yours, typically a second middle name. I think I wanted to choose a man's name but was discouraged. So I chose Eve because I felt she was misunderstood and overall a pretty badass lady for being the mother of mankind and taking all that blame for The Fall. (A youth minister once told us that Satan tempted Eve first because he knew she was stronger and that Adam would be a sure thing.) It seems now to have been some sort of oversight because I can't find mention of her as a saint anywhere.

In high school, my dearest darling loved and adored friend came out as gay. And I just couldn't believe in a God that would have this child live a loveless life or be cursed for eternity. "Love the sinner; hate the sin" was and is a shitty philosophy. That a gay person could only be absolved by never acting on his or her feelings was deeply upsetting, especially as I myself began to question my attractions.

And then I dated a smart and kind young man off and on through senior high school, off because things moved too quickly for me, physically, and on again because I loved the boy and our attraction was strong. When the only choice was abstinence until marriage, I had no blueprint for not fucking up my teenage romantic relationship by drowning in guilt for loving and wanting to physically express that to a really nice young man who was mostly wonderful to me, at least as much as teenage boys can be. The cognitive dissonance of loving and sinning was adequately traumatic for an impressionable young woman. For years and to this day I still feel guilty not for the things I did with him, but for letting my faith keep me from loving him freely, as I wanted and he deserved.

Also in high school, our youth pastor gave a talk one day about how priests go to seminary school for so many years to learn to interpret the Bible correctly, the point being that lay people couldn't be trusted not to misinterpret the Bible. Great big bullshit alarms sounded in my head. That lay people and I, a rational, smart, logical woman, could not be trusted to read a book, especially because women cannot be priests, was DEEPLY offensive. And it conflicted with what we had been previously taught about each person's relationship to God being unique. Surely a person's unique relationship would lead to unique interpretations as befitted each person's life and individual needs, and that would be a good thing overall. And if that book was open to so much conflicting interpretation, then it couldn't really be worth very much, could it?

I left home for college and briefly attended mass with a classmate, but it was painfully obvious that I had only been attending for so long in order to see my friends and that I had no idea what I truly believed, only the things I had been taught to believe, so it was imperative that I set out to learn the truths of the world, the universe, and spirituality, to find out what I could believe in.

Hell and scaring people into obedience was a terrible tenet, and so many behavioral studies proved that punishment is an inefficient motivator. Heaven, however, seemed rather dull, and there should be some form of cosmic justice. So I briefly tried on a belief in reincarnation, initially because soul age theory rang true and described me well, but I think I knew most of the time that I only believed in the thing because I liked how pretty, poetic, and comforting it was.

Multiverse theory was an easy replacement. It means that there are a possibly infinite number of universes very similar to ours and that somewhere out there is a prima ballerina me, a NASA researcher me, and maybe even a happy wife and mom me.

And I just can't bring myself to believe in a vain, petty, cruel god like the one in the Bible. If there is a creator, it gave me my questioning mind and my free will to live this life as makes me happiest. And what makes me happiest is not condemning consenting adults for whatever they want to do. And not living under the oppressive yoke of fear and guilt for LOVING.