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.

Hiatus

I've been on a mini break due to some responsibilities of mine as well as studying (and athletics) that has been preoccupying my mental stamina. I hope to publish at least two new posts, however, I have started on a book, a project that has circumnavigated my aspirations due to factors of fear but also lack of motivation. It is my fullest hope that this will shape my person and my intellectual faculty, but more so, shape the intellectual conventions of the reader. I'm going to be 19 very soon. This will not be a cesspool of veracity and clean cut veracity. I have to acquiesce I am no closer to being the next Christopher Hitchens than the in-debt college student becoming president. I have much work ahead of me but I have developed and nurtured every intention to write as well as record the poetry of the universe. This will be a thought provoking work. A work that will move the young doubter and even semi-educated person. This will be a journey for me as I subject myself to copious amounts of research and rigorous drafting, something I sadly new to. The 'hiatus' period in which I will be busy will extend to dec 15, after which I hope to be back at it. The first chapter to my book (whose title will be kept secret, due to confidentiality as well as possibility of undergoing change) will be published and I truly hope I can get all constructive criticism and feedback. To whatever ends a soul exists, in the mannerism of self and thought, I pour it into my writing. I soon ask for you to help me ameliorate my spirit and my writing. Thanks everyone.

Peace,

Patryk

Journals

The body is a journal. It records your genetics; your age; your health. It is nobody's job to dictate how you write your journal. It is your duty to write in that journal experiences that you are proud of. Of course you can't be proud of every single sentence in that journal so then its your job to prelude those events to a game changing moment. Each and every other journal is a little different, so don't judge another by it's cover. Don't pick up a journal and read the first couple pages and decide it sucks. It has to change. It will change.  This is why you don't burn books. This is why you don't ban books. The words in books are the words that compose our reality; how we perceive that reality. Begin burning books and you begin to burn humanity. Thus, we ought to keep writing.  And if we keep writing, we begin to understand. And if we understand, we begin to help each other write each other's entries.

Realizing Reality

One of the most frequent questions I get in regards to my atheism is how I could justify my morals. Not that I can't be a moral person but how do I justify them. If I may, they will say something along the lines of "How can you repudiate the killing of millions of Jews if we are just chemical reactions?" I firstly give them a well deserved, condescending smile; the sort of which treads the edge of unbecoming awkwardness yet clever insinuation. I probably start with an in-genuine "ugh," and take a deep breath. This sorts of casuistry is the kind of false imaging that demonizes people without a personal god, which happens to be huge minority despite the huge growth in our ranks. I don't mean to digress too much, but these sort of lies have become almost as pernicious as the ideas of religion themselves, because, in addition to the destructive power it has demonstrated to have on people's minds, it has proven itself to be a great enabler of personal profile degradation. It is easily observable that the religious attitude(a huge portion of population) towards godlessness reflects the current construct of our government and other aspects of our life which I hope to address in later posts.

Humans are quick to conclude animals don't have much of a conscious. And with that I must agree. They don't know they are them or what they are. They simply do. They survive. They survive using only the tools they have been allotted by natural selection. The lion, for example, has been allotted amazing sight paired with more than tolerable hearing and scent. He has four legs compact with lean muscles that help him sprint up to 50mph when close to prey. He has huge, jagged teeth, ostensibly designed, that rip through flesh. He has a rough tongue that peels the skin off animals. He is equipped with retractable claws grab and hold prey. The lion is engineered by nature to rule. He in engineered to kill.

Humans, on the other hand, are insignificant turds, unfortunately. We have five senses of perceiving our world and they are average at best. We have been provided with two legs and two arms, both of which are hardly any threat to a wild predator that has cornered us by ourselves. We have relatively straight teeth that have been designed by nature for grinding more than chewing. The taste buds on our tongue detect sweets swiftly and increase our yearning for such sugars instantly. We are not equipped to rule. We are not equipped to kill.

Lions are equipped to rule. They are totally servile to their instincts and their inclinations. They don't even understand servility. They simple survive. They rest for approximately 20 hours. The other 4 hours includes socializing, defecating and hunting. They don't choose to obey their instinct because their instinct is to survive. Our genes contain the directions to survive. Adhere to your genetic plan for survival, or, for the most part, you don't exist very long. By natural selection they have been designed to survive by ripping apart the flesh of animals. That has been and will be their method of survival.

Humans are equipped to rip apart reality. If we existed within the same reality that all other animals, including lions, existed in, we would be cornered in a cave with nothing but arms to swing and legs to kick at pure muscle and teeth. We could not outrun them as they would overcome us. We could not kill them because of lack of physiological weaponry (unless you want to grapple onto a bear with your nails and try to snap his neck with your flat teeth, be my guest). However, the alternate is to immerse yourself in a reality you create. For starters, we would find ourselves in aforementioned scenario had we picked up a rock and continue to abide by its real implications: its a rock. However, we molded the capabilities of the rock to our own reality and, with its aid, made spears and fire, to name a few. To summarize shortly and avoid adding annoying fluff- we shape the reality that we exist in, being the perception of the material world is our own unique reality. To be more specific  we are capable of manipulating the reality of the system we exist in which is Earth. Restated in an even more user friendly statement- humans can stretch the function of the simplest material.

If, by survival default, we abide by a reality that we create, then there is way not to behave without assigning that behavior with either good, neutral or bad effects. A rainfall for the lion is simply good because water runs scarce throughout the regions the majority of lions thrive. The lion doesn't even assign a position to that reality. We must acknowledge that, because we are human, borne of the brain we harbor and innate tendency to survive, we assign a reality to any cause we are faced with. In this case some (most) will dance out of euphoria; some continue on with indifference; and some cower in pessimism. Morals must be subjective. Furthermore, reality must be subjective if we acknowledge that particular knowledge can be utilized in almost infinite ways. To acknowledge anything otherwise is to acknowledge we are more animal than human (I state that in the humor of our species' pride).

With the acknowledgement that there are potentially infinite realities to any causation we must first acknowledge that the existence of a benevolent, omniscient, and infallible deity would indeed justify only one, or few, realities to any moral. However, from all the scripts we have, we know that the deity is, by default, lacking the former characteristic.  We must also acknowledge that infallibility in this context insinuates divine order. Insert any deity and his commands and not many of them have been ignored by its adherents. Just to name one, stoning woman for their lack of virgin status at marriage is considered antiquated and in some circles, i hope most, even inhumane. We are now stuck at a sinister injunction in which both sides have no justification of their actions. (We mustn't forget all the things religious people have done in the name of their deity and done so with a capricious attachment to some parts of their scripture. To name a few, crusades, witch burning, flying planes into buildings, etc. Insert your favorite heinous act justified by religious text and you have a robust repudiation already. Back to our injunction- we have no justification for anything.

Is that okay? perhaps we have no justification. Can we not leave it at that? Some of us have committed to stupid things for stupid reasons with even stronger, but stupider conviction and some of us have done good things for no reason with the conviction of nothing more than our own altruism. 

I believe we should be able to leave it here, at the injunction in which a god cannot justify your actions and the godless need not justification for their behavior. Would it be too much to say that some commit to the behavior they choose because it makes them happy to see others happy? Again, we are not engineered to rule; to kill. We innately are opposed to killing our own species as is most of the animal kingdom. It is in our genetic code to preserve our species. So what is it that makes people justify actions otherwise? That is something we will explore later.

Let us begin stripping the reality of the holocaust. Ignore Hitler; his religious convictions; the preluding centuries of antisemitism; the condition of Germany and face the reality of this single fact- 11 million people were murdered in the span of a second in the time clock of human existence. Strip it further down to simply the abjectly contemptible methods of murder, and strip it down the line of reality so on one side lays the subjectivity and the other objectivity. Approach the right side and you see millions of Jews, Poles, gays, Jehovah's Witnesses, gypsies, resisters,priests and pastors, disabled persons, and black Germans were sent to concentration camps, shot, tortured, worked to death or ultimately sent to the gas chambers. Strip the reality of this even further, I picture a line of people, no labels assigned, no race or ethnicity identifiable, ordered into a great long and winding line. The plane on which they exist I don't know, but that is the point- to strip the reality in mind of any subjective influences. They march rather swiftly into a confluence on other, free roaming people. These people are perceived bigger and wear hats and imitate whip cracks. In front of them lay four different holes (this is literally basically an animated doodle to me). Each hole a different color, but the color of the holes are nowhere close to the uniqueness of the the screams of pain that each person lets out as they fall into the hole. Sure my brain can assign different functions to different causes, but my imagination has failed me in comprehending that many agonizing screams. Those agonizing screams are after all another causation that I must assign a reality to. I cannot help but assign one reality (of mine) and that is utter disgust. And of course I do not condone it nor would I imagine myself committing to, or supporting such a cause.

Take a step back and we now know that many people can think different about different things, such as rain. The holocaust would be a less contentious example, however, unequivocally there will be some pirates hijacking the outlook that this event was an abjectly shameful and disgusting event in human history. For the most part we have all justified our disgust with the Holocaust with the fact that 11 million people were murdered. Do you really need a divinity to justify that killing is wrong?

We aren't designed to kill. Even an elaborate speech, brilliantly articulated with attention to veracity won't  convince the bible humper.

Strip not flesh, but reality. Before we commit to any behavior, we usually think it through (if you don't believe me then take a note from serial killers) and consider it's implications. To that degree one mustn't go far to argue that ruminating on our behavior is not a hard task. Furthermore, one mustn't ignore that morals are not something you develop overnight. Justifying a single action is more so like instigating the realization of a certain reality. People don't wake up one day and decide to shoot their neighbor as it tends to be a laborious process. The general public ought to have no trouble with the following proposition: you don't have to consciously choose to drive your car, despite the potential dangers, environmental effects and sometimes psychological cost of it manifested in the form of anger, impatience, and enervation. The reason- you have to. You haven't even entertained the idea of riding your bike for your commute. "Should I drive today" jumps around in the mind less than the simple answer of "yes." In fact, you don't insert your key into the keyhole, open your car and take your seat thinking anything remotely close to "yes, I choose to drive my car." It is part of the reality you have created and it must be done. The circumstances shape the reality you create for yourself. If the reality you shape eventually becomes unconscious modulation, then we must infer it becomes a behavior that is unlikely to be deterred.

The only method of which we can possibly flip the reality of an unconscious behavior is by offering it's antithesis wrapped in a well placed appeal to a better reality that it will create. Thus, a middle class individual could, upon months of rumination, compromise of morals, and an immaculate plan could flip from consuming to preying. Again, to deter that mode of reality a force greater than that person can offer the antithesis wrapped with a punishment of sorts and sway them from that behavior.
This may explain the religious having to justify their behavior with an infallible deity..

Thus, to justify a behavior one must acknowledge that the only hope humans cling to as to survive is to mold the world around them to fit a reality we want (this has implications of its own that we can explore another day). Secondly, we must acknowledge that us humans commit horrible deeds towards the planet, environment, animals, and other people. We are sentient beings but we are no gods. Therefore, we must strive for a better reality and justify our actions in the course of a better reality. This means that we choose to neglect behaving for ourselves but for others. It is with the realization that we are not greater than the universe that we will be great for each other.

The Cost of Ideas

What is the cost of an idea?
Does it cost a life? Perhaps a myriad of hours of thinking?
Was Einstein destined to draw out general relativity from the second he doodled the letter e and a couple numbers? I think we'd be hard pressed to support anything but the general agreement that the man spent hundreds of hours working on, and thinking about this universe we so vaguely understand. The cost of his idea- a lot of his life's dedication.
That would mean time. That would mean money. It meant devotion.
The cost of my Catholicism- free. I was born with the idea, ingrained into my puny head at a young age, left to ponder the one and only force of good in the universe. To me the cost of the idea was free. Alone, the cost of that idea only affected me. Collectively, approximately a billion Catholics worldwide, that pernicious idea has costed the other 5 billion people time money and devotion. We still argue over a woman's right over her body. They still spend billions of dollars to counter all secular movements whether it be social, political, or educational. Furthermore their arrogance has cost us our devotion to other social, national, and economic problems. An institution amassing a billion people has an incredible opportunity and has indolently squandered it- both the people of that faith and also the people who fight the crazies.
We cannot ignore why religion is such an infectious and attractive choice- because its a cheap idea. In many instances its free. By no means do I mean to quantify the quality of ideas, I merely attempt to make the point that thinking is an exigent process so understandably the individual would much rather circumnavigate it. And again, that isn't a problem until it affects other people, namely people not sharing their idea.

The cost of my atheism (or more so free thinking) - fear, time, money, possible ostracization from the family and even general groups. I am not even twenty years old and already it has cost me a myriad of hours but I regret not one of those hours. This idea I hold close to my heart cost me a lot because it is a thinking that requires more than kneeling and Sunday masses. This required mental humility and a daily trip to the books. As I type this I think even more on my ideas I currently support. "Waking Up" lays in my backpack as "The Language of God" calls my name from my drawer in my desk back in my dorm room. Challenging one's ideas is a costly thing to do. To do otherwise is to cost the world seven fold.

Setting Sight

I hate the god of public opinion. I don't believe in gods but I believe this one exists.

This god is a white man. He wears a nice suit. He is an ingrate.

He is well groomed. He is rich beyond comprehension. He is the richest 1% of the world.

If god existed he would've struck down this idol long ago. Alas, someone else has.

Larger than Life

I like systems that work.
Systems that do not collapse on themselves; ones that lack few contradictions. Stripping any given dimension of reality of contradictions is unfortunately an exigent process. Even more unfortunate is that those contradictions I am about to speak of are capable of undoing the system of human existence (which is flawed in itself).

Lets take a step back and go over exactly what I mean by everything I've mentioned earlier. By system I mean a seemingly organized methodology and steps that keep intact the part of reality it is responsible for. An example of a system would be capitalism. It is a system of free commerce and free ideas. It has many moving parts, the power of the individual to govern their commerce being one aspect of the system, that attempt to stall or even fix the contradictions. A gargantuan contradiction of this system is the huge power of the rich, one contradiction that tightens it's knot ever more so tighter as time goes on. I will not berate capitalism, nor will I deny that capitalism has some good aspects.

Let us now take a dimension of reality we exist in. By that I mean an aspect of the observable world we live in, and condensing it into a system. Do not forget everything exists in a system. Ideas exist in a system as they manifest themselves in the mind, pulled and pushed by the waves of the society it exists in. The dimension of reality I am concerned with- Nature: the purest of systems and most perfect of systems. It could be possible that women have been blamed for most of our sins because Mother Nature herself made a mistake and went forward with making the sentient that is humankind. Her biggest, and only, contradiction.

Man has a propensity to reduce the dimension of reality it exists in: sucking the life out of it; stripping it naked; and furthermore leaving it barren of any seeds to regrow and replace the wasteland.

Man is a leech. It is parasitic. It consumes. Grows.
And it believes this is it's manifest destiny.
It yearns to be larger than life,
be a system in itself.

Together, let us discuss what it is to be human, and more importantly, how to do it better.
Together, let us establish a more perfect system, free of pernicious arrogance.
Let us stand shoulder to shoulder & united.

Yonder, Youth

I sometimes imagine myself as a seven year old, opening my eyes up the morning of the first snow of the winter. I had one of those dreams in which I haphazardly recalled some of my childhood memories- perhaps getting my coveted Jurassic Park toy or game boy (which death will do part). It was one of those moments where everything came rushing to your sense, crashing down like a waterfall and upon getting hit, tossing and turning, directionless. In my instant of opening up my eyes I see snow.  It is then that I forget everything even rushed to me, that I saw what I failed to see and heard what I hadn't heard in so long. Nonetheless, my seven year old brain took to the white cold powder outside. As servile as I was, my body obeyed. It got itself in a warm pair of pants and reluctantly clothed the skinny little chest with multiple layers, layers I could not count after mother insisted upon what felt like a hundred more. I almost ran outside barefoot out of the intense euphoria. I wanted to make a snow angel. That was my innate tradition. I would sprint outside, escaping the abjectly insipid play of T-Rex devouring my sister’s Barbie doll, and find the comfiest of snow patches, one cleansed of all dirty spots and sticks and stones. I would not jump into it. Call me circumspect. However, I was not about to devoid my patch of it tidiness. The toughest step was accomplished and I had begun my ascent to my goal of snow angel. Naturally, my next step was to inspect closely for any inadequacies. By grace of my approval, the patch was ready for a good settling. This had to be done in good form, homage to the angel I was about to make. So I turned around, and fell, bottom first into my clump.  I never immediately began the ritual of swiping my arms and legs up and down a flat dimension that was the snow. I lay there (thank you to mother for putting on a couple more layers) and stared at the sky. Sometimes there were dark clouds, sometimes I spotted a flock of birds, and sometimes the sun was out. It ignited in me the fire necessary to fuel the machine that was to make the perfect snow angel, so I began swiping furiously, as if the multiple motions would create a better indent in the snow, and lay there panting for breath, excited to stand up and witness my handy-work.

I must have gotten some shut eye. I must have been wiped. I think to myself that snow angel was the damn best I’ve ever made.  I stand up and I find myself on my bed.  It is still dark; a sun barely pokes through the window. The refulgence highlights my arm hair and creates a stark contrast between shadow and light on my chest as it hugs my back. I stand there motionless and in awe of the scene until I am brought to a new arousal- I look outside. There is no snow outside. There are no jackets on me. There is no angel on my back.