General Theory of Nonexistence

It would be suitable to say, despite how revoltingly so to many, that the existence of a personal god is, to put it mildest, petty and unjustified. To attain a certain argument, one that is robust and can stand by itself, it would be appropriate to say this: a personal, all-knowing; all-caring; all-benevolent being can only exist if sentient beings, capable of high cognitive function, exist. After all, the stars nor the ocean nor the clouds can, no matter how grand they are, worship an omnipresent being. So one may conclude that without enlightened life:

a) The only god that can exist is nature.

b) Nature would not define itself as god, as it is an unconscious agent in the universe.

One may then reason that proving the nonexistence of any sentient god would be directly found at an injunction in which natural processes can explain our world. However, this will take copious amounts of time to find enough evidence to placate the stubborn and more so, could be potentially as unstable as  our constantly changing understanding of the universe. The majority of the human population would not see new understanding as natural processes, but as divine intervention. So one may conclude, based of the myriad of interpretations of understandings of our universe that sway dangerously far from the objective observations of science that :

a) Human cognition demands an explanation almost always, and when it cannot find one it will consequently make one- that being god, the ultimate, infallible answer to just about everything.

b) Without the knowledge of natural processes, humans will invariably create their gods so as to avoid the discomfort of not knowing.

There are invariably thousands of explanations of people's personal gods. Each god is made in the patriarchies' image, and behaves as he does, or would like to. An age later, that god becomes part of the newer societies' literature, laughed at and studied deeply as that society commits to new, better gods. Consequently, we must treat these premises as such:

a) Every religion that has ever existed has had some insight into a divine god.
          Therefore, every religion is correct.

(if gods are made in the image of man, then they cannot objective interpretations anyhow)?

If one is persuaded to agree to this proposition, then one may affirm that a divine god exists, whether or not evidence for him actually exists. Simply put, a person may believe a divine god exists because he or she understands every faith has had insight to it, and understood it as such- every religion is a language for the explanation of god, and does its best to say the same thing: god is real.

If however, an individual, employing their intellectual faculties, disagrees with the statement that each religion is correct then they must throw out the entire divinity of a god because:


b) If one does not believe each religion is a code for god,
     then they must believe that religions before were stories and interpretations of events and things        antithetical to their common logic.
 -they must then acquiesce that their own religion is not a code of language for divinity.

     Thus, a divine god does not exist. For all religions have been a petty, weak, and unsupported decoding of the god of nature. Science, lacking a dogmatic and rigid structure, gives us the natural processes to our world- making unsupported claims about the universe and divinity unnecessary and actually pernicious. Science is the antithesis to religion: it begins to explain the god of nature.

One may now cease to make religion out of interpretation of the divine, but make oneself divine out of interpretation.

Fallen Francis

His words; his mannerisms; his messages have grabbed the attention of billions. Among the unlettered arguments, encased in pseudo-science and cherry picked dogma, stands a figure that commands even a little of the attention of even the most staunch of the godless. His message was simple: love. The actions he committed to- genteel.

The world gave you their attention and their hearts. For the first time in history, the organization of Catholics was headed by a man who didn't completely manifest bitter ignorance and move the masses to his own agenda. For the first time in history, it seemed like one religion would begin to breaks it's cycle of retrogressing the society it inhabited.

However, it seems that religion has made an unsettling habit of retrogressing. In that great tradition, putting aside the inheritance of credulity, of taking a steep step back, Francis has now proclaimed that religion ought not to be interfered with. It was with this effect, that he stated insulting or ridiculing another's faith should be limited. His candid example- as a result of him insulting a friends mother, he deserved a punch in the face, as if extremists were that simple. They command the public's attention not with punches, my Pope, but my weapons. It would be a tad uncanny, albeit, we all hope that you would be personally terrified and more so disgusted that your friend put a gun to your head for what you say. 

It would seem that Francis is succumbing to Sharia law. Not enforced by the Muslims, but by the fanatics. Mr. Francis, you have given in to the terrorism of this theocratic encroachment. As the sheep of your church became moderated by secular values over the course of a couple hundred years, brainwashing of millions has occurred on the other side of the world. However, more scary than this violent froniter is the self-induced lobotomization the Vatican has issued on itself. Get out of the castle, my holiness, for the world does not thrive on the body of your messiah, and the majority of the people do not kneel, awaiting to be slain. Your days are over. Your church is untenable on all fronts and even your progressive values show for a secularization of the Vatican. 

The church is quickly crumbling; like quicksand under your feet. The opaque walls your business has erected are finding themselves cracked from the inside. The pillars of sacraments upon which your communion stands is defaced. The government, which was once your institution, has disintegrated, and with it the full aegis of freedom to do as one wishes. The world only hopes you continue to  lead your flock in the right direction. After all, you command a billion souls. It is necessary that every inhabitant be able to say what they say without the fear of being blown up. It is necessary that the couple billions you have influence over stand against the oppression of terrorism, rather than succumbing to it like you have. 

Pope Francis, you are the Vatican's last breath. You are their last shepard. Do not lead the flock into the caves of the extremists. They will not think twice to slaughtering them. There is no way you can take back your statements, but there is a way you can pull your church and the world out of further conflict. Do not be part of it, please.

Breathing Life Into Rocks

       Engaging reality is, quite indeed, a daunting and often intimidating prospect- one that offers the fruit of new experience and, more importantly, new thoughts. Extracting new information, a robust gesture, is the means by which we engage reality. That may be facing adversity head on; changing behaviors promptly to accommodate new beliefs or facts; or even trash beliefs once held dear. Each of the aforementioned engagements of reality are intrinsic and unique in each and every one of us. The methods by which we cope with difficult times; the difficulty of rationalizing a new behavior or belief; the nerve to say goodbye to an old and dear idea all slightly differ in each of us. Engaging reality is different with all of us- deciphering it is hardly a puzzle.

       Reality is a space we can traverse by employing our five senses and a host of feelings and emotions. Engaging the reality around us takes place subconsciously and manifests itself into some physical actions that, as a consequence of our subconscious, are sometimes done without thought. One needn't the explanation for the internal battles that we have all experienced, and are due to dance many times over with powerful, sometimes frightening prospects. The conventions of our mind has a somewhat annoying propensity to manifest itself into the reality we share with other human beings- its only avenue is the almighty hand.

       The hand, quite the spectacle of nature's power, also makes quite the spectacle to the other human beings around us, if one is not careful- and another knows how to watch. As mentioned earlier, engaging the space around us is inevitable, but also necessary. The hand is the mechanism by which we do just that. It has put together Star Wars, space shuttles, guns, cable TVs, iPhones, homes, but more importantly- who we are. How we interact with reality in the time we have to spare reflects our intellect and our emotional faculties. There was once a time when man pranced around hunting animals or scavenging plants. In between his responsibilities was that and spending time with his family. It would then, come to no surprise that an hour here and there in the day paved the way for a long, cold period of survival; in which man had no choice but stick with the same thing that worked to preserve his existence. Ameliorating our engagement with the space around us comes with the time to ruminate on it, and sometimes a physical manifestation of it may just get us out of the rut. I am, of course, talking about a rock. I am not, however, talking about those pesky garden pebbles that need sorting out of the dirt or the large, burly kind that one twists their sorry ankle on whilst walking. No, I'm talking about a rock, about the size of my fist, which actually resembles the dimensions of large apple, that could be crushed into smaller, sharper rocks. Or perhaps one could find an already sharp rock. Whatever the case may be, the suggestive action in this is that man did not step over the rock like other animals did, because their ability to rip apart reality resonates within their ability to engage it- but rather, they picked it up and decided that it should be of some grand use to them. Sorting out rocks out of your garden, as stupid and mundane as that sounds, is an engagement of reality unheard of in the animal kingdom! Twisting your ankle on those stupid blokes, perhaps has occurred here and there in the natural kingdom, however never has it been followed by the audible, yet comically angry remarks following. Some humans of the past millennial seem to have taken it upon themselves the power of nations, but have forgotten their power came from sticks and rocks. It is refreshingly humbling to remind oneself that the human existence lay on a thin thread, balancing between the power of fire and the power of mind. Teetering on this thread, lacking the competence of both humility and engagement, pave the way for a pernicious ignorance, cultivated on a mass scale. 

       It seems that many of our neighbors have resisted the push to challenge one's own reality. In their hands, one can almost unequivocally find a book of apparent infallibility or a fork posed to stab the dead carcass of some other sentient, now dead, being. When presented with new means by which to cope with the reality around us, they blow it off as casuistry, and replace it with their own. When the pernicious effects of tradition are illuminated, they deny to seeing their shadows. Breathing life into rocks was easier than this. The rock had no will to deny its disposition; it had no disposition. The simple, stupid rock, build grand architectural marvels as well as pave roads. It is better to have no disposition than to have one, stubborn and irrational one; the same of which tradition has lobotomized our friends for far too long. This is not a cry for brainwashing populations, but the opposite. Although discussion has yielded results, the fundamentalist still holds a bible in his hand, and occasional a gun in the other. There is still a huge population of humans who hold a fork in one hand, accompanied by a credit card in the other, that aren't aware that many children have as many things to hold in their hands as they have to wear.

       The mind is what the hands literally hold close to the heart. Give them a reason to put down those defenses, and they may be willing to accept some of what you have to say. One shouldn't attempt breathing their influence on sentient beings like we do on rocks- one should give them the tools at hand to breathe a new breathe of life. As one man said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." That cannot ring more truth than now, as we encourage those around us to drop their dogmas and traditions so they have free hands to interlock with every other.

Wondering as a Wanderer Day I

This is not means by which I attempt to boast a good deed. The call for an act that required me to go out of my way to help came about when I drove by a homeless man sitting next to what I would infer is where he puts his belongings. He just sat on the sidewalk of this street. He did nothing. There were thousands of cars busily driving by him every hour; a Walmart only fifty steps away; post holiday consumer high was rampant, and this man sat with a doleful expression on his face- without anything to do. He sat there, still as a statue, seemingly devoid of emotions and intent to move. I was instantly moved, not that seeing a homeless man walking about on a divider with a sign in hand doesn't move me, that I instantly decided to get him a gift-card to the local market, Sprouts. By the way, I strongly recommend visiting that store instead of your local Walmart. Sure, Wally World is cheaper, but Sprouts is a great smaller company that has high quality products, meanwhile treating its employees rightly. I got myself the usual fruit smoothie/juice. It was a blueberry apple blend with some other fruits that I honestly don't remember. All I remember is I was extremely sore. It supplied me with 650 calories, mostly composed of carbohydrates, and satisfied my athletic, moving body. I walked up to the cashier, a slight limp in my step resulting from higher mileage, putting on a genuinely confused look, asking "Do you have gift-cards?" She shot me an expression of wonder, as if no one bought gift-cards to grocery stores. I completed the transaction for ten dollars and banked it in my wallet. I reached for the bottle of juice and immediately opened it upon exiting the store. The sweet parched my mouth; the energy parched my body. I had never taken for granted the things I had, but nor have I considered what life would be without what I had. I had a car; a wallet with money; a friend next to me; and food. I thought back to the man on the sidewalk who boasted no such thing. A feeling of anxiety washed over me- I wanted to give him this gift card and see a smile on his face. I wanted the words "Happy Holidays" to rush off my tongue like a stampede of elephants- to remind him that people did care. That he could, at least for a moment, have food and friend. I parked in the Walmart lot behind the man and rushed out of the car, left running with my buddy in the passenger seat. I approached him, a middle aged man with long, dark hair and beard, a wide smile pasted on my face, and extended a hand introducing myself, "Hello sir, my name is Patryk." He turned to me, glanced at my extended hand and then looked to me. I quickly took a second to analyze if he had hands to extend and was fast to realize he had a cigarette situated in his right hand. My mind began to boil a little, however distracted by mumbled some words I could not comprehend but I insisted on exclaiming "Happy Holidays, man! This is for you," handing him the plastic rectangle, worth a meal or two. I had no other words so I wished him the best and went on my way. I drove off, truthfully a tad ticked off, however grateful that I purchased a gift card for him. Even if he wanted to buy drugs, he couldn't and would have to settle for physical nourishment. I didn't speak to my friend much, far too concerned with what I had just seen. However, the more I ruminated on it, I came to the conclusion that homelessness eventually becomes far worse than helplessness. This was ostracization: Domestic dogs are fed better than this; domestic dogs are given more attention; domestic dogs have more comfortable shelters than this man. If a dog sat on the side of a street, it would've been attended to within minutes- but a man, lonely and hungry amid the holiday season, could not be spared that same luxury. I cannot understand how church goers can dump money into those little baskets, infer it goes to food drives, thus relieved of the burden of caring, and ignore the obvious needs of some underprivileged persons of society. No, apathy, but furthermore, ingratiating, and clearly pretentious display of sympathy for the thousands of starving has washed over our society. I believe it has came with the title of the products we consume. Material has turned us against each other. The iPhone user is unequivocally better than the Android user, thus more important than the man on the street. Arrogance manifests itself in the form of our ingratiating and ostensible sympathy, whether that be in a religious' charitable donations to its church or the lay person pitting their concern for animal cruelty or homelessness against the antithesis of such ethics. Members of society are becoming too enthralled with how their possessions and actions make them and forgetting how their material possessions and actions to others can make their day; or more, their life.
It took a solid ten minutes, but I didn't let the fact that he smoked cigarettes bother me. I,after all, had given him the opportunity to eat well. I had given myself the opportunity to understand that he has shunned by his fellow neighbors.  I understand that he has been shoved into the darkness, no candles to light the way. That cigarette may be his only light..
Or we can decide to pull him back.

My First Atheist Christmas Pt I

"I know you're young but I wish you open your eyes to the truth" hovered over my ears, like innocuous, snow white clouds. For a split second they floated and remained stagnant. Suddenly, the cloud became a doleful gray and began to hail, the lightning of the words struck my mind without discretion. The heat of the words seared my heart and caused me a bitter disposition for a couple minutes, which I must admit, as humbly as possible, I did a perfect job of hiding my scathing anger behind series of sarcastic utterances and a couple sardonic remarks. I hugged my father after wishing him the fortuitous events for 2015. It was time for prayer, so my sister and I knelt roughly four feet away from my parents and brother who grasped the bible with his whole self.  They prayed an our father and hail mary in English, to the effect of their own voices, as my sister and I remained mute. My mother glanced at me once, she had to have expected this. This was my first christmas out of the closet as an atheist, I would no longer be bullied into doing things I felt were inane. They chanted some prayers in polish, to which effect I understood not. We finally got off our knees and onto our feet. As if by instinct I remarked, "That was shorter than last year." Father declared that I had no say because I hadn't participated in the prayer. So be it. That was a challenge I very openly accepted with open arms. Sure I was a tad vindictive. Sure, this was turning into a tv show drama.

I woke up on christmas eve to the banging of pots and smells of meats being cooked. The house was busily stirring, my mom was downstairs already prepping for the evening. She was accompanied by my father who swiftly left, to my understanding he left for the store. I asked if I could help at all, although my responsibilities mostly lay with the day prior's vacuuming, lawn-mowing, dusting, washing of dishes, sweeping, and a little more. Today would be rather uneventful, to my effect in which I found myself at a friend's house. I spent the next three hours honing my virtual house building skills and having lightly contentious conversations about many issues. Also, you did read that right- two ninteen year olds tried their skills at Minecraft. I found myself enthralled in the simple game, the both of us serendipitous engaged to the dynamics of destroying blocks of material, collecting them, and thus moving them somewhere else. With a light, secret groan, I biked back home. Again, I found myself with a chore to do and was left to my own escapades. This included reading an excerpt of The Origin of Species before I had to get dressed for dinner. I finally got the get up, boasting my new floral tie and calogne. I happened to be the last one to the table.

I was the last one to leave. After the aforementioned series of events and everyone was finished partaking the many numerous esculent treats, my mom asked me my plans for the new year. I will not bore you with such details, however we ended up on the conversation of death. My dad, of course, had something smart to chime in, enthusiastically informing me I will end up in one of two places, worthy mention of my mother asking me if I'm worried about my soul. I insinuated the lack of soul and proceeded to address my father, starting with "well dad this is a tad odd, but..." I then did a drum roll on the table and continued, rather nonchalantly, "there is nothing after. Kind of like sleep but you never wake up." My dad shot me an angry look, my brother left the table soon after, my parents rounded up dishes, and my sister left after we exchanged some words. I did not ask for this,   they came with the debate to me, let that be known.
I washed the dishes, my hands left soft and a little prune like as a result of warm, soapy water. I ascended the stairs to my room, and was met by my father. He found it in himself to confront me about the bible I asked them to send to me. I told him I was studying it. He instructed me to read the footnotes, "then I'll understand."
I angrily remarked that he "needs to stop trying to convert me back." In swift response he replied that "[he] is my parent and concerned about [me]. It is [his] responsibility." I signaled him off with an ingratiating nod. I began writing this on my bed and finish on my phone, in the backseat of a civic headed to a sanctuary celebrating a fabled virgin birth.
This was my first Christmas dinner as an out of the closet atheist. I cannot wait to record my thoughts of my first Christmas mass as an out of the closet atheist.
Peace and happy holidays!

Giving Season

It is polish tradition to produce a grand dinner copious in an array of foods ranging from meats to fishes to vegetables. The table is clothed in white garments and the seats have been polished to a sheen. After a day's worth of fasting, with two snacks allowed, the human spirit has disconnected from the phone, computer, sports, and other material attachments and has almost exclusively focused it's will on esculent options. More of the family finds itself crowding around the table, not as savages, but as as brothers, as mother places more food on the table. By the time everyone has found themselves at the table horseradish root has found itself at the head of the table with cabbage rolls at the other end.  The steam that rises off some the food dances in the candlelight. It twists and turns and flickers in transparency with the flicker of the light. It find itself to the window and escapes, only to be replaced by a new wave of streams. The forms morph. Each one that arises is as transitory as the one before. Nonetheless, the family pays a small focus to them as they all kneel and recite the usual prayers. As they stand up they make sure to revisit that the food is still steaming only to grab a small, white square wafer of bread. They patiently offer it to every other member of the family.. In a trade of wafer, the two parties first hug, usually accompanying a smile that is subverted by a bigger smile that utters a genuine wish for prosperity in fields of academia, business, social life to the opposing party. The gesture is thus reciprocated, articulated in a new brand of style, and both parties then pick a piece of wafer from the other's. Once the trade of good fortune has been performed with every other member of the family everyone may commence to their seats at the table. The chair at the end with the horseradish is left empty, not in spite of that root, but should the event arise, a stranger, homeless or needing some company knock on the door in search of such faculties, may be allotted the seat at the table with the family. He or she will be offered a wafer, of course, but more importantly they will be asked to indulge in foods as the rest of them. For starters, everyone has to try a little bit of everything. That horseradish root will make its way around the table. Those young in body or puny in tongue will find it abjectly distasteful, however it need be only a little piece of the root. It is typically family tradition to lightly laugh at the those whose pallet cannot contain the harsh and definite burst of spice from the root. Nonetheless, everyone is expected to try a little of everything, ranging from the sweet to the salty to the spicy. I would like to report that those with allergies to certain foods do not have to partake in particular foods and the vegans and vegetarians aren't forced into partaking likewise. In addition, I have never had the experience of housing a stranger.

Likely, I never will. The American public is too skeptical of having a stranger off the street at their dinner table, and rightly so. The symbolism of the feast goes hand in hand with their religious beliefs, as they reflect on the year they've had as well as the year they are to have, before their attendance at a mass for the birth of their savior. To many of us, the 25th will be a holiday. It will not lead up to a great mass at midnight with choruses of singing. It will, however, lead up to an exchange of gifts.

It appears that material consumption has enveloped the 'season of giving.' One need not go far to hear the words of a mellow narrator for a car commercial inform one that it is that time to give and they've provided the perfect price for it. But how much giving do we need to give to those who we love? 365 days out of the year and the whole population deems themselves altruistic from one day of spending millions of dollars for each other? The equation for giving on christmas is easy. Whatever you do to one side you must do to the other. The equilibrium of one's wealth is typically stable as someone else provides them with a different solution, in a form of material gain, to placate their psychological discomfort. No, no one is really going. Everyone is going about consuming, forcing themselves into abjectly long lines; wasting myriad of hours finding things they aren't sure if the other party will like; unyieldingly scanning for new sales. It is such a mess of things. The new tradition has lobotomized the population into believing that buying for others is giving. We, as a whole, have indulged into ourselves far more than we should. Each year we provide each other with new gadgets and distractions to our lives at our table of plenty. These things know no warmth for our hands nor steam to our noses. We add more materials to our life, experimenting with each form to determine which yields the longest span of happiness. The public has forgotten to recognize their everyday attempts at giving to others, subverted by the climactic point in the economic year. Yet, they forget that satisfaction will be found when they can seat another at their table of plenty and share their goodness. A didactic lesson in academia; a selfless offer of a job; a simple exchange of words, especially to a stranger is arguably the most giving of one self.

This season I bought my mother and father a card, amounting to a grand total of 9$, and wrote to them words both of us cannot delete. A qwerty keyboard was not involved in the process. My pen in hand transcribed my heart to a card and will be there so long as they do not toss it or lose it. To my parents, I can give my heart. To a stranger, I can give my material. I can give them my time. To those with less than me, my genuine gesture of a gift card to a grocery store or fast food restaurant can make their holiday season. To a patient at St. Jude's, my donation of money I would've spent on superficial materials for my parents could make them smile for a lifetime. This year, I had limited resources but if the stranger cannot come to my feast, I shall go to his, or make him one. This giving season, I've given a little to those who I give every day of my life and given everything I can to those who didn't get a day of my consideration. I encourage the same to all of my peers.

Peace to all,
Patryk

Cheers to Pascal's Wager

To be perfectly honest, its a tad unbecoming to hear a proposition of the likes of Pascal's Wager. If one is not familiar with this wager, it simply goes like this: It is better to believe in a god and be found wrong then not believe in one and be proven right. In laymen terms, "I believe in god because it won't hurt if he doesn't exist." The wager itself is uncomfortably rational and one must acquiesce that turning over finite possessions as to not risk losing infinite possessions isn't such a waste of intellectual faculties.

On the other hand, the forfeit of those intellectual faculties; the forfeit of deliberation on opposing ideas; and the forfeit of deviation from tradition produces such an abjectly obscene lack of empathy that we can longer treat it with an ingratiating pat on the back and a farewell goodbye. Religions fight over our souls; corporations over our dollar; politicians over our vote, and our brothers and sister seem to have taken a staunch and indifferent stance for tradition. One cannot criticize a person who cannot fathom the universe, but admits his lack of understand, and keeps his disposition to a pleasing and innocuous crossroads between his mind and tongue. This person's actions more or less are not influenced by pascal's in-existent god, but, by his own conventions. Waste not another gasp of breath on those who accept themselves humbled in nature, rather, save those breaths to condemn the actions of those who vie to take away breath of others in the name of their god. If one's intent is to teach children nonsensical myths in science class, criticize them. If one's intent is to make a profit off the fear for of losing infinite possessions, criticize them. If one's intent is to subjugate women to find favor with their god, criticize them.  Let this be remembered: Doubt has and never should be grounds to commit thoroughly to any behaviors.