Friday, September 27, 2019

Counting Falling Stars

(modified post from July 2014.)
For a couple of days I've contemplated what to write about next. I know I've written about topics like this idea before. Though a quick search didn't turn up the exact previous post.

Telling my story over and over, seems to substantially lessen its impact. I've mentioned that I have started to see the value of confession. Not as a telling of one's own sins, though that I feel has value. What I'm talking about is confessing one's flaws installed by outsiders.

I feel that they're weirdly the same thing. It feels like a recounting of facts. A kind of "for the record" acknowledgement of what happened. I've come to realize that so much of what one views as reality ha as much to do with perception and perspective.

I don't know much of the motives of people who hurt me. My perception that some of their actions were "crazy" comes from other people's reactions to my story.

While it's true I do have some ego tied up in what happened to me, I've come to realize that understanding it builds me up more than it tears me down. With each "confession," I learn a little more about the power I have inside. You'll have to ask my husband if I tell the stories less the more I sort through their value.

I think of it as counting falling stars. Though much of the material burns up in my "atmosphere of examination," some of it just grazes and doesn't fall. It comes back in some other guise and sparks another fiery event.

Although my experiences come down like meteors  I can choose how I react to them. I choose to recount the story. I speak what I saw and consider adapting my version if I hear a different perspective that seems valid. Many family members refuse to speak with me and I try and be understanding.

How do you count your falling stars? If you don't, and it works for you, I''m glad. Confessing what made me, me, seems to improve my life.

Kind comments welcome!

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

The More We Get Together

(Written in August, 2014 adapted Nearly August, 2019.)

New years eve I participated in a twitter #ideaparty hosted by Barbara Sher. She suggested for finding local friends. Boy did it work good.

It never occurred to me that atheists would have a meeting local to me. When I saw them on that list, I felt elated. It's exactly "my thing."

Faith and church felt like alien concepts to me. I thought about going to one just for the fellowship aspects. Then I realized that would be so hypocritical and very uncomfortable. I know me, I would say something about inconsistent interpretations of biblical teaching.

What I understand of Christ makes me think that he had some interesting things to say. I have no problem with discussing his philosophical point of view. I know less about Mohamed but I bet he has some intriguing concepts as well.

How other people choose to navigate the social landscape has little to do with me. I ask lots of questions about that which I sense around me. These observations lead me to a conclusion of random happenstance.

Should some evidence of a higher power show in my sensing of data, I would adjust my world view. Until such time, i remain skeptical of the notion of god.

As a small child, I don't remember ever feeling valued in church. My sister loved it and felt the fellowship that comes from participation. I'm not sure how much this had to do with the way I was treated or if the lack of faith was innate in my mind even that early.

The faith came from my family tradition. I don't know how other churches treat children. I felt as though I was a nuisance to everyone there. Plus I was forced to go. I don't suppose that makes for positive memories. I like having choices.

My family didn't want me. That's why my sister and I were living with the devout lady. She didn't want me, she wanted my sister. When she beat me up in church, I felt that no one in the congregation cared. I felt like they thought I was "bad."

I remember Sunday School, but I don't remember learning anything or enjoying any friendship or acceptance there. It's not being different, as my sister has albinism just like me.

I guess I'm strangely grateful that they were unkind. I might have been seduced by friendship and acceptance. I like being an atheist. I like asking questions and chatting with others who question things too.

The more I think about faith, the more I find I have no need for it in my real life. Though it may be a bit of a challenge to find people who think as I do, they do exist and do value my company. Just as important, *I* value my company.

How other people run their philosophical life is none of my business. If someone has a deep faith, I can respect that to the point they don't bother me over it. Some have crossed that and I wish them peace and let them go. Life's way too short to worry over being judged by someone.

It's just an untestable theory, but I suspect I could hang with Christ. I suspect he would discuss things with me, but let me make up my own mind. At least that's my interpretation of his attitude. In a way I am the leper and he hung out with them.

Who do you hang out with and why?

Kind comments encouraged.