Author: Michelle

You might believe in God. Most people do.

I do not.

No, not even a little bit.

I’m not sure I even believe in such a thing as the human soul, although it’s such an attractive concept that I have a lot of trouble letting go of the idea. Which is a bit of a clue to me that it might not be a true thing. I like to believe that there’s a certain spark that makes us each individuals, something that is uniquely “us” about each of us, but I suspect that it all may be biochemical trickery.

It’s pretty much the same for a unique spiritual side to us. I like the idea…but…I can’t quite believe in it. I don’t think there’s anything about us that lives on after we are gone. I don’t think we look down from any sort of Heaven. I think we are just gone once we die. Anything that remains is in what people remember about us.

Sometimes people wonder how a person can get through life without believing in a god. To me, it’s not any different than not believing in Santa. A lot of people who do believe are very offended by that. I respect everyone’s right to believe whatever they want. Typically that same level of respect isn’t granted to people who don’t believe in what is, to us, an imaginary construct no different than any other myth.

Immoral, amoral, heathen, unfit parent…there are a lot of less than respectful labels thrown at atheists.

People ask us how we can possibly know right from wrong without some sort of religion. The same way they do–out parents teach us what they believe, we read, we have a society we live in.

And to tell you the truth, I don’t believe in a universal right and wrong, either.

People can believe in a lot of things. I might believe that there’s an invisible green elephant with super powers who lives in the middle of the median of I-5 at Hwy 217. You might point out that no one can see the elephant, and I can’t prove it is there. No one can see God, either, and most people of religion dispense with a requirement for proof by waving Faith around. You might point out that almost everyone believes in God, but I’ m the only one who believes in the elephant.

Well. Yeah. So?

Just because almost everyone believes in something doesn’t make it correct.
At one time, nearly everyone believed that the Earth was the center of the universe and only a few thought it was the sun.

We know who was right about that. We also know how threatened organized religion was about it. Threatened enough to call it heresy and imprison and kill over it. Kill people just for believing something different.

I’m not a fan.

Believe what you want. I don’t care. Just don’t be a douche about it and think your beliefs are the only correct ones or that they should control what anyone else does.

There’s room enough for a multiplicity of beliefs on our planet.

Even green elephants if that’s what makes you happy.

I’ll be over here drinking from a skull and celebrating Doubt.
L’chaim.

When I want something and I don’t want to pay for it,
I walk right through the door.
–Jane’s Addiction/Been Caught Stealing

Once upon a time I had this boyfriend. We broke up.

I was not happy about it. I tried to hang on to him, pathetically, by offering various sexual acts. Well, mostly the same one. Never mind which. I can’t really blame the guy for taking advantage of the offers any time he was in between girlfriends. Not a lot of guys of a certain age would be willing to turn someone down, and he didn’t. I imagine he felt like he was getting something for nothing. He probably had no clue about how I felt about it, and I certainly have no clue if there was any sort of emotional toll on him from it.

I didn’t think it had any sort of emotional cost to me at the time, either, but I was wrong. It gradually wore away the little self confidence and self respect I had. And, again–I do not blame him. I offered. He accepted. He didn’t do anything wrong. Eventually, something happened that made me angry enough to tell him I never wanted to see him again. It wasn’t true, but I knew I needed to say it.

He complied with my wishes. I hoped he wouldn’t, but I needed him to. Maybe that cost him something. Maybe he was relieved. I have no idea.

Everything you choose to do in life has some sort of cost associated with it. Sometimes you know what the cost will be ahead of time. Sometimes you don’t. The cost might be financial, but it’s just as likely to be physical or emotional.

I know pretty much what the physical cost will be if I drink 6 shots of tequila in an evening. I might not sleep very well. I’ll probably be a little sluggish the next morning, but I’ll feel fine. If I drink 10, I’ll probably puke, fall down and wish I was dead the next day. I normally drink accordingly.

Financially, If I only have $100 to make it to payday, I probably won’t buy that $400 pair of boots I’m in love with. I know what they cost, and I know ahead of time that I can’t afford it. It’s not terribly complicated to figure out financial and physical cost. It’s not always easy to choose wisely, but it is pretty simple.

Emotional cost is so much harder. For one thing, you are more likely not to know what the cost will be. You can trust someone who turns out to be fantastic, fall in love, be married for 60 years and have a wonderful family. Or. You can trust someone who turns out to be Charles Manson, kill someone else’s family together and end up in prison. Different costs.

You have to figure out how much of yourself you can afford to give, and if someone deserves it.

And when to stop.

If to stop.

And all without even knowing what the costs have been or will continue to be.

Each situation has to be navigated on its own, and there’s never a price sheet posted.

It’s all a balancing act, and I think we’ve all noticed by now that balance is not one of my native talents.

So I’ll keep trying to figure it out.
I don’t think I ever really will.
I’m not sure I’m even supposed to.

I think I’m supposed to just keep working on it.