Hi @Yusuf,
I wrote the post in response to the OP. Since it's a public forum I was assuming it was ok to share ideas.
[INFJ] Atheism
- Thread starter TheDevvil156
- Start date
Hi @Yusuf,
I wrote the post in response to the OP. Since it's a public forum I was assuming it was ok to share ideas.
Atheism only defines what I don't believe exists. It says nothing of how beautiful and fascinating the universe is as you learn, discover, and understand more of its nature and of reality.
That's ok as long as you put " i think " before it or any thing indicating it instead of saying that this is the reality of it.
I'm having a hard time understanding what you mean. "I just really believe that is god but he might be by a slight chance" This is the main part I don't really understand and I think it may be just typos or a language barrier. I know Atheists can be kinder than some Christians, as some Christians have the "holier than thou" attitude which I hate. Anyway, best of luck on your journey. Are you sure you're INFJ?
Mistypes happen a lot you know. People, especially young ones, get caught up on the "mystical unicorn rarity" and being "special" and if they are mistyped, they adamantly refuse to believe they are not INFJ. It's not meant as an insult by the way, lol. I am often misunderstood lol.
When an atheist feels thankful, who do they thank? They will not pray with family before a meal. They misguide their children. I see them as poor examples.
That is a classic example of a holier than thou attitude. You think your ways are superior and refuse to believe anything else could be right. Based on much of your posting on here, I mean. I'm not trying to be mean, @just me , but you always have that aura to you. You could learn from Jesus. As he was not at all that way.
They thank themselves, and your logic is faulty. I am sorry, but to a person who is not close minded, you seem rather judgmental of those who don't share your views. I appreciate that you are honest, though. You see giving children a choice of what they want to believe as misguiding? Well, most people see your way as brainwashing.
I hope you can learn to not look down on everyone as lesser individuals one day. In the Iran thread, you say people don't see things as clearly as you do. I mean isn't that a little arrogant and not Christlike? Come one now.
***Edit. Rereading this, it sounds rather rude. I just want to let you know, @just me that I am simply trying to let you see how others see you. How you come across. Maybe if you know, and i you truly think about it, you can have an opportunity to grow as a result of deep introspection. Consider Jesus here again. He was never ever like that. We could all use to be more like him, whether we are Christians or not.
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We must speak our own truths and values. It never ever comes with no cost.
In my experience of being an atheist by choice (raised Catholic, Catholic primary and Catholic secondary/Sixth form) atheism has had little effect on my life in the way of interrupting it. Being atheist is, by definition simply not believing in any one deity, or set of them: such as being Roman Catholic, Muslim or Hindu. My life, other than that belief system, is no different than yours. In my view being atheist and spiritual are not mutually exclusive. Yes, spirituality is widely regarded as a term reserved for those with theological beliefs. To me it encompasses the serenity I feel gazing from a hill or over the ocean, the wonder looking up at the night sky. I still appreciate and actively seek efforts into trying to make sense of existence and what it entails - and for that reason I am tolerant of any and all religions where people try to find themselves. You believe in Zeus and the Greek gods? Or maybe in the Roman gods (especially Janus and doors I love that)? Go for it, tell me if you learn anything about yourself.
So I still love, feel curiosity and seek to understand (should any god ever be proven then WWOOOOO) just as you - but much of my faith lies in the more tangible universe, primarily humans
Meaning no animosity in this reply but I shall answer your rhetorical.
I thank no god because I don't believe they put the meal on my table. I thank my mother who cooked and plated the food, who feels and appreciates that love. I contribute to the farmers by buying Fairtrade produce when I can, and occassionally donating to charities to support those that may have cultivated the food. In future I will be guiding my child in thinking for themselves, and living their own life. As long as they don't believe happiness is at the bottom of a bottle, a needle or in the form of some other recreational substance - I'll be more than proud. How exactly does an atheist 'misguide' their child if I may ask?
I know, but what does that have to do with what I just said, I want you to reply to me lol. I am interested to hear what you have to say
It can affect our lives in the same way any profound belief system does. It has the power to set our expectations in a way that can become a part of our identity - who we actually are. A convinced atheist will know that their life is finite and fully contained in the world they see around them. This may give them a profound relationship with the world and as they develop it may give them a deep love for it and their place within it. On the other hand, it may lead to a feeling of ‘is this all there is?’ and a sense of emptiness and alienation. It can lead to lots of other ways of identifying with the world too for good and ill.
It’s a strong belief - in the sense that it’s plain and simple and obvious and clearly differentiated from other beliefs. I’m a Roman Catholic myself and that’s also a strong belief system. That means that when you discuss it with other folks they will often respond to you emotionally because strong beliefs tend to divide people up into different groups who are strongly attached to their beliefs. Which means you will experience some controversy and challenge as well as support when you try and share it. This is good because it explores in the open things that really matter to people, but it can tread on sensitivities too and lead to arguments and rows.
Did you say elsewhere that you are a 14 year old teenager? Your teens are a time for exploring - who and what you are. It’s a time when we start to become an adult. If we are lucky and determined it’s a time too to form our own views on our beliefs - those that have the power to shape our lives. Many people just follow one herd or another into what they believe - it’s just a social compliance thing for them and not really very authentic. Don’t be like that - it’s the same as letting other people dictate and shape who you are. If you decide that there is no God then let that be your own decision rather than just following a fashion or a whim, or the views of friends. It’s the same advice I’d give if on the other hand you decided eventually that there is a God after all - let this be based on your own informed views and decisions and no one else’s.
As always, my friend, well said. <3
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Atheism isn't really something I think about until other people bring it up.
D
Deleted member 16771
You sound very very much like me when I was a younger man (and atheist).
I very much agree with these perspectives, John.
Hi, @TheDevvil156, I have a story to tell here if you'll bear hearing it.
I was raised as a Christian, but what denomination my mother didn't know, and with what doctrines she couldn't explain. Hers was, and is, a genuine faith of the heart - unoppressive and comforting; never restrictive or at the front of our minds. God was love, and Jesus an example of how to embody that love on earth. When I was young, our 'worship' was very simple - not Church services, but an evening ritual of praying for the health and wellbeing of family, friends, and everybody in the world. It was an extremely simple 'faith', but with a very strong message of love as the principal power of 'divinity'.
As for me, I was ultimately too 'rational' to sustain this kind of faith, and so by about age 14 I'd decided that there was no God. It became a purely material question of truth - does God exist or does it not? There was no evidence for it, and the ancient myths which propped it up were embarrassingly simple to dismantle. Predictably, I did lean in to my newfound certainty somewhat - I became arrogant and conceited in my views, and tried to convince my mother that her faith was 'wrong' and built on lies. 'Look here at what it says in the Bible - it's nonsense'. Plus points if you manage to quote something about oxen to make it seem that much more ludicrous and ancient.
In taking this position, I became lonely in the universe, and settled the canker of an existential crisis firmly in my mind. A single question - which had kept me up at night from a very young age, 7 or 8 perhaps - began to colour my whole existence: 'why does anything exist?'
A decade later, and I was living with a fully manifested existential crisis. The world around me didn't seem real. I possessed the horrifying knowledge of that unanswered question and lived with with a deep and dislocating existential dread. If anyone's ever experienced that, they know what I mean, and if they haven't I can tell you that existential dread is the most terrifying experience I could possibly imagine - the world around you dissolves into the void.
One night, as the dread resurfaced, I decided to do something different. Before then I'd always tried to repress the feelings and intrusive thoughts; tried to distract myself; now, however, I was going to face it. I had never been so afraid. I thought about it, about existence. I seemed to become one with the abyssal nightmare of reality; the yawning, gaping nothingness of existence; me and the endless void. The absolute horror of that experience I can scarcely comprehend even now. At the climax of this experience, where I'd really had enough and was terrified beyond measure, I uttered these words: 'God, please help me'. It was God I reached for. At that moment, I was overwhelmed by an enormous rush of warmth, like I'd just been embraced mind body and spirit; rescued from the void by this 'thing' which some call God, and I began to see human beings as bright, burning lights in the darkness; powerful beacons of this same divinity that had rescued me.
Now, does that mean I now believe in God? No. My rationality is fully prepared to accept that what I experienced was a massive dose of some hormone or neurotransmitter or other, and not some kind of metaphysical being. However, if that's the case, then what's the difference? If there was a God, then it would be fully capable of using such means to make us feel its presence, &c. &c. whatever, we can speculate until the cows come home. The point is that this realm of spirituality is not about 'the truth', in either direction, but about something like 'the mystery'.
Religious or spiritual feelings are very liminal in that sense, suspended as they are between the poles of knowledge and ignorance, certainty and uncertainty. We should never abandon our rationality, but neither should we abandon that irrational, hopeful side of our natures, either. It is the tension between these two poles that generate true spiritual feeling; which is to say that all genuine spirituality is agnostic by nature. That doesn't mean the kind of 'agnosticism' which takes as it's mantra that we simply don't know, and therefore can't answer the questions, but rather that 'agnosticism' which is suspended between the rational and irrational; empowered and energised by this tension, inhabiting both an absolute rationality and an absolute faith. It is awe and magnificence and mystery.
And for me, it comes down to love and everything which orbits it (such as hope), and the meaning that this 'mystic agnosticism' generates from it. For example, take the idea of soulmates. If I knew without a doubt that my love was my soulmate, and that 'soulmates' existed as a real metaphysical phenomenon, then this would rob the concept of all its power - all its religious 'mystery'. It would be reduced to something mundane and bureaucratic, like some depictions of heaven in those late 80s/90s movies Hollywood was fond of at one point (e.g. Chances Are). Instead, I'm forced to take a leap of faith - the idea is suspended between a doubting mind and a hopeful heart, and the tension gives it power. The tension generates meaning.
Does this, therefore, mean that I'm less rational now than I was when I was a dyed-in-the-wool atheist? Nope; all I've done now is to acknowledge the mystery (which is more intellectually honest in any case), and return my heart/soul to its proper place in my psyche; to restore the balance and the tension.
This is amazingYou sound very very much like me when I was a younger man (and atheist).
I very much agree with these perspectives, John.
Hi, @TheDevvil156, I have a story to tell here if you'll bear hearing it.
I was raised as a Christian, but what denomination my mother didn't know, and with what doctrines she couldn't explain. Hers was, and is, a genuine faith of the heart - unoppressive and comforting; never restrictive or at the front of our minds. God was love, and Jesus an example of how to embody that love on earth. When I was young, our 'worship' was very simple - not Church services, but an evening ritual of praying for the health and wellbeing of family, friends, and everybody in the world. It was an extremely simple 'faith', but with a very strong message of love as the principal power of 'divinity'.
As for me, I was ultimately too 'rational' to sustain this kind of faith, and so by about age 14 I'd decided that there was no God. It became a purely material question of truth - does God exist or does it not? There was no evidence for it, and the ancient myths which propped it up were embarrassingly simple to dismantle. Predictably, I did lean in to my newfound certainty somewhat - I became arrogant and conceited in my views, and tried to convince my mother that her faith was 'wrong' and built on lies. 'Look here at what it says in the Bible - it's nonsense'. Plus points if you manage to quote something about oxen to make it seem that much more ludicrous and ancient.
In taking this position, I became lonely in the universe, and settled the canker of an existential crisis firmly in my mind. A single question - which had kept me up at night from a very young age, 7 or 8 perhaps - began to colour my whole existence: 'why does anything exist?'
A decade later, and I was living with a fully manifested existential crisis. The world around me didn't seem real. I possessed the horrifying knowledge of that unanswered question and lived with with a deep and dislocating existential dread. If anyone's ever experienced that, they know what I mean, and if they haven't I can tell you that existential dread is the most terrifying experience I could possibly imagine - the world around you dissolves into the void.
One night, as the dread resurfaced, I decided to do something different. Before then I'd always tried to repress the feelings and intrusive thoughts; tried to distract myself; now, however, I was going to face it. I had never been so afraid. I thought about it, about existence. I seemed to become one with the abyssal nightmare of reality; the yawning, gaping nothingness of existence; me and the endless void. The absolute horror of that experience I can scarcely comprehend even now. At the climax of this experience, where I'd really had enough and was terrified beyond measure, I uttered these words: 'God, please help me'. It was God I reached for. At that moment, I was overwhelmed by an enormous rush of warmth, like I'd just been embraced mind body and spirit; rescued from the void by this 'thing' which some call God, and I began to see human beings as bright, burning lights in the darkness; powerful beacons of this same divinity that had rescued me.
Now, does that mean I now believe in God? No. My rationality is fully prepared to accept that what I experienced was a massive dose of some hormone or neurotransmitter or other, and not some kind of metaphysical being. However, if that's the case, then what's the difference? If there was a God, then it would be fully capable of using such means to make us feel its presence, &c. &c. whatever, we can speculate until the cows come home. The point is that this realm of spirituality is not about 'the truth', in either direction, but about something like 'the mystery'.
Religious or spiritual feelings are very liminal in that sense, suspended as they are between the poles of knowledge and ignorance, certainty and uncertainty. We should never abandon our rationality, but neither should we abandon that irrational, hopeful side of our natures, either. It is the tension between these two poles that generate true spiritual feeling; which is to say that all genuine spirituality is agnostic by nature. That doesn't mean the kind of 'agnosticism' which takes as it's mantra that we simply don't know, and therefore can't answer the questions, but rather that 'agnosticism' which is suspended between the rational and irrational; empowered and energised by this tension, inhabiting both an absolute rationality and an absolute faith. It is awe and magnificence and mystery.
And for me, it comes down to love and everything which orbits it (such as hope), and the meaning that this 'mystic agnosticism' generates from it. For example, take the idea of soulmates. If I knew without a doubt that my love was my soulmate, and that 'soulmates' existed as a real metaphysical phenomenon, then this would rob the concept of all its power - all its religious 'mystery'. It would be reduced to something mundane and bureaucratic, like some depictions of heaven in those late 80s/90s movies Hollywood was fond of at one point (e.g. Chances Are). Instead, I'm forced to take a leap of faith - the idea is suspended between a doubting mind and a hopeful heart, and the tension gives it power. The tension generates meaning.
Does this, therefore, mean that I'm less rational now than I was when I was a dyed-in-the-wool atheist? Nope; all I've done now is to acknowledge the mystery (which is more intellectually honest in any case), and return my heart/soul to its proper place in my psyche; to restore the balance and the tension.
. Very well said.
God does not have monopoly over gratitude.
D
Deleted member 16771
Thanks, John.This is amazing
I'm recentring myself somewhat today, as I've realised that I've been living slightly in an iconoclastic/arrogant mode recently (I'm not actually sure how to describe it, but a more egotistical mode fore sure), and I think it's come out on the forum in various places.
Wow, just... YES! What you said! Ive heard about your crisis before but in this context, it's even more powerful.You sound very very much like me when I was a younger man (and atheist).
I very much agree with these perspectives, John.
Hi, @TheDevvil156, I have a story to tell here if you'll bear hearing it.
I was raised as a Christian, but what denomination my mother didn't know, and with what doctrines she couldn't explain. Hers was, and is, a genuine faith of the heart - unoppressive and comforting; never restrictive or at the front of our minds. God was love, and Jesus an example of how to embody that love on earth. When I was young, our 'worship' was very simple - not Church services, but an evening ritual of praying for the health and wellbeing of family, friends, and everybody in the world. It was an extremely simple 'faith', but with a very strong message of love as the principal power of 'divinity'.
As for me, I was ultimately too 'rational' to sustain this kind of faith, and so by about age 14 I'd decided that there was no God. It became a purely material question of truth - does God exist or does it not? There was no evidence for it, and the ancient myths which propped it up were embarrassingly simple to dismantle. Predictably, I did lean in to my newfound certainty somewhat - I became arrogant and conceited in my views, and tried to convince my mother that her faith was 'wrong' and built on lies. 'Look here at what it says in the Bible - it's nonsense'. Plus points if you manage to quote something about oxen to make it seem that much more ludicrous and ancient.
In taking this position, I became lonely in the universe, and settled the canker of an existential crisis firmly in my mind. A single question - which had kept me up at night from a very young age, 7 or 8 perhaps - began to colour my whole existence: 'why does anything exist?'
A decade later, and I was living with a fully manifested existential crisis. The world around me didn't seem real. I possessed the horrifying knowledge of that unanswered question and lived with with a deep and dislocating existential dread. If anyone's ever experienced that, they know what I mean, and if they haven't I can tell you that existential dread is the most terrifying experience I could possibly imagine - the world around you dissolves into the void.
One night, as the dread resurfaced, I decided to do something different. Before then I'd always tried to repress the feelings and intrusive thoughts; tried to distract myself; now, however, I was going to face it. I had never been so afraid. I thought about it, about existence. I seemed to become one with the abyssal nightmare of reality; the yawning, gaping nothingness of existence; me and the endless void. The absolute horror of that experience I can scarcely comprehend even now. At the climax of this experience, where I'd really had enough and was terrified beyond measure, I uttered these words: 'God, please help me'. It was God I reached for. At that moment, I was overwhelmed by an enormous rush of warmth, like I'd just been embraced mind body and spirit; rescued from the void by this 'thing' which some call God, and I began to see human beings as bright, burning lights in the darkness; powerful beacons of this same divinity that had rescued me.
Now, does that mean I now believe in God? No. My rationality is fully prepared to accept that what I experienced was a massive dose of some hormone or neurotransmitter or other, and not some kind of metaphysical being. However, if that's the case, then what's the difference? If there was a God, then it would be fully capable of using such means to make us feel its presence, &c. &c. whatever, we can speculate until the cows come home. The point is that this realm of spirituality is not about 'the truth', in either direction, but about something like 'the mystery'.
Religious or spiritual feelings are very liminal in that sense, suspended as they are between the poles of knowledge and ignorance, certainty and uncertainty. We should never abandon our rationality, but neither should we abandon that irrational, hopeful side of our natures, either. It is the tension between these two poles that generate true spiritual feeling; which is to say that all genuine spirituality is agnostic by nature. That doesn't mean the kind of 'agnosticism' which takes as it's mantra that we simply don't know, and therefore can't answer the questions, but rather that 'agnosticism' which is suspended between the rational and irrational; empowered and energised by this tension, inhabiting both an absolute rationality and an absolute faith. It is awe and magnificence and mystery.
And for me, it comes down to love and everything which orbits it (such as hope), and the meaning that this 'mystic agnosticism' generates from it. For example, take the idea of soulmates. If I knew without a doubt that my love was my soulmate, and that 'soulmates' existed as a real metaphysical phenomenon, then this would rob the concept of all its power - all its religious 'mystery'. It would be reduced to something mundane and bureaucratic, like some depictions of heaven in those late 80s/90s movies Hollywood was fond of at one point (e.g. Chances Are). Instead, I'm forced to take a leap of faith - the idea is suspended between a doubting mind and a hopeful heart, and the tension gives it power. The tension generates meaning.
Does this, therefore, mean that I'm less rational now than I was when I was a dyed-in-the-wool atheist? Nope; all I've done now is to acknowledge the mystery (which is more intellectually honest in any case), and return my heart/soul to its proper place in my psyche; to restore the balance and the tension.
The mystery of it all is indeed the power and essence of it all!
Good to hear. Being able to pick that up and wanting to work on it is a sign of emotional intelligence.