Spirited away

I was an atheist for about seven years - yes... actually it was probably less than that, hardcore atheism laster for about four years. And then i became very interested in the goddess, and finally i had to admit that human beings are spiritual beings and we need to somehow connect to that part of ourselves and outside ourselves, or else we are bankrupt inside.

It is nice to be spiritual, i say tongue in cheek, but i do mean it. Because it gives you, without trying too hard, a sense of humility and it lifts a burden from your shoulders. It's like having someone else to lean on. When i was an atheist i always felt that something was missing. It was as if there was a large elephant hiding under my bed and i didn't want to admit it was there. The elephant was my soul and my denial of that soul. What do i mean by soul? Not the immortal part of myself, but the part that loves to feel wonder. The part that is still a child. The part that enjoys the Mystery. The part that witnesses the aurora borealis and hears music. The part that doesn't want a scientific explanation. That believes in the sacred, the untouchable, the unknowable - and knows that we are richer for it. The part that says, there is a veil and i do not want to lift it because it is good the veil is there, that there is an inner sanctum, a place where the unnamed lives, where language cannot reach. That is the soul.

So it is no surprise to me when i read about atheists who have an impulse to pray. Praying is an instinctual thing. There are two things which recur in all cultures through the world - the need to tell the story and the need to pray, to acknowledge something bigger than ourselves. Even atheists succumb to this.

OK, i think i should try and call it a day and get an early start tomorrow.