Spirituality seems to be such a dirty word for atheists. Seemingly if one is to even remotely consider themselves spiritual they have either a loose (and therefore) and apologist atheistic framework or are dumbing down their belief in order to extend politeness to others and in return have the same courtesy extended to them. Today I cam across such a notion in the editorial of the most recent Free Inquiry magazine. The editorial, written by Tom Flynn, argues (as he has before) that when using terms like spirituality is like shooting yourself in the foot as an atheist. He argues that it unnecessarily colours atheists and atheism as weak and insecure in their belief (or lack thereof). Flynn underscores this by using a quote from Carl Sagan (from his book Pale Blue Dot -which was inspired by this picture in):
"A religion old or new, that stressed the magnificence of the new universe as revealed by modern science, might be able to draw forth reserves of reverence and awe hardly tapped by the conventional faiths. Sooner or later, such a religion will emerge." Viewing and contemplating the whole of life Flynn says "it's appropriate to view this spectacle as Sagan said with awe. I think it's an enormous mistake to view it as Sagan also said with reverence. Reverence to whom? For what? Nobody planned it, nobody designed it; it's not the cosmos bringing forth life so that it can contemplate its own wonders and sing a happy tune."
Well, malarkey I say back. I think that this is too rigid and narrow an interpretation of being a non-believer. It is far too reliant on what we are not and dare I say to fundamentalist an approach. This works for some but it does nothing for me. Perhaps I am a soft atheist then, not totally malleable but open to the idea of possibility but not governed by it. Perhaps it has to do with once having faith in something greater that a small part of it remains. Yet I feel it still, despite my non-belief in religion and God(s). I have felt it after an especially long run, when I have seen someone or something beautiful, on a gorgeous day, throughout a soft snowfall. When I have been silent, meditating or when words are arranged on a page in just a certain way, when I have held my cat and pet it too sleep in my arms I have felt it deeply. Felt a connection to something more than myself, an energy, some grand binding agent that doesn't just connect human beings but that connects all of life. I have felt it in the woods on a splendid sunny day and on a miserably cold windy day.
I know that most of this is some chemical and wired reaction from my brain and body. Yet that connection between mind and body, can we not call it spiritual if it feels that way, can we not feel the high of that experience on a deep level without sacrificing the integrity of our disbelief? I think we can and I think it is a natural human thing to experience. That is not to say that it is something I believe should or does govern us. Rather it is something, a feeling and experience that enhances us and connects us more personally to the people and earth around us. If this means that my disbelief is questionable and suspect, then I am damned with or without god and so be it. I prefer the humanity of the experience to the cold machine sterility that says wonder is possible spirituality is not.
And as to Flynn's question reverence to what or whom, I answer reverence to life. Reverence to the process that got us here, the process by which we will die. Reverence for the sorrow and for the joy. Reverence that things happened just so that we happened, as human beings and as individual persons able to experience this wondrous thing we call life and reverence for our constant desire to find ways to express our experiences to each other. Reverence for those days gone and those days to come. Reverence above all to today. Does it really matter if nobody designed or planned it, isn't it enough that it happened and for the privilege of being a part of that continued cosmic poetry of happening, is it really such a tragic, repulsive idea to whisper a word of thanks with a slight bow of our heads and frames?
I cannot find it in my spirit to say that it is.
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