Principles

As a self-proclaimed Godless drowning in a sea of religious morality, I get quizzed about the nature of principles more than your average person. I've discovered that it's a symptom of being an Atheist in the Bible belt. Sometimes the questions come from zealous strangers; sometimes, a caring family member speaking across a cup of coffee. The general implication is always the same: how can one have principles, and yet not have religion?

In the past, these questions would offend me, but eventually I begrudgingly admitted that the idea of one's religious code shaping one's moral values isn't completely unfounded. Many people have argued that the ten commandments exist because humans, as inherently evil beings, needed firm divine direction. From that perspective, I've cast myself adrift without any kind of moral anchor; how do I decide what is right and what is wrong?

It can be very difficult to build a respectable argument without a widely accepted foundation. Often, I present empathy as my champion. The mandates that I admire, whatever religion they may hail from, are rooted in empathy. Jesus said it best in Matthew 22:36-40: "...love your neighbor as yourself." Empathy is in reality a very complex and intricate principle, but at it's simplest, it demands a deep understanding by one person for another. It can touch us lightly - when one feels moved to help a disheveled person to their feet - but can also grip us with immovable certainty, such as the sudden realization that one person would die for another. Is it a judeo-christian sentiment? Perhaps. But it's not exclusive to Christianity, and I don't have to belong to a religion to value it's worth.

However, empathy alone doesn't fully explain my perspective. I also hold respect in high esteem. Whether or not I agree with someone on a spiritual, intellectual, or moral level, I feel that it is necessary to treat them with dignity. Respect, at it's core, is given not because the recipient deserves it, but because the giver respects themselves enough to show kindness and regard to everyone around them. As Sir John Herschel said, "Self-respect is the cornerstone of all virtue." Through respecting myself, I can love other people; through loving other people, I come to respect myself.

So, what is a principle for an Atheist? Where does one anchor oneself without religion? I choose to believe in humanity, in the innate empathy and respect that we, miraculously, find ourselves capable of. I look into the waters of religion and see my principles reflected there, not because I have any belief in a doctrine, but because the people making up the spiritual bodies have noble ethics of their own that I aspire to.

blowing away in the wind

Reach out to the world, you're wrapped in lavender cotton
Whisper a chord but take it back; you're fading,
Fading into the background of the life of the cosmos.
Tempting, isn't it, to just drift away forever
Riding the stars and their currents of hot wind
Blasting through a summer day, bouncing off asphalt
Warming your skin and kissing your neck,
A faint song's waking lullaby,you hum along, tasting...
Cherry? Again? Those were better times, and worse times,
Before you knew the world and learned it's name
When the warmth came from hearts and not from the elements,
When the sting of rejection was merely a glimpse of the forgotten.

But now you have a summers day, and a sense
Of being alive and alone in the universe
Illuminated and warm in the sun, nestled in light,
And around the corner is the shadow and a night's rest,
When darkness meets darkness and a sip isn't enough anymore.

i miss the ocean

It's easy to lose yourself over time because being a person is a fluid thing. Whenever I feel empty, I wonder if it's because I don't knit anymore; I don't write poetry anymore; I don't write stories anymore, drawing pictures of the characters to satisfy my earnestness; I don't tell people what to do anymore, or give advice anymore; I no longer write imaginary speeches; I've ceased to tie a cape around my shoulders and pray for dragon wings; I  don't idealize childhood like I used to but neither do I respect the state of being that supposedly comes after.

The question is this, then: am I empty because I am decaying, or am I empty because I'm finally about to be filled?

Because now I dream vividly of torture and desire; I write letters to dead people and save them in a book; I draw pictures of the creatures from my slumber, solidifying them in my earnestness; I ask strange questions and listen intently to the answers, unconcerned about my own opinion; I battle between hope and horror for the human race; I think longingly of cityscapes and mountaintops, the bird's eye view and the terrifying freedom; I no longer attempt to put my humanity in a box, floundering with labels and understandings, trying to know myself and realizing that to understand the smallest part of the smallest animal is to know the universe.