of atheism and thanksgiving
Even in the face of the stark meaninglessness of my frail temporal existence, I feel a deep sense of gratitude to the universe for the privilege of being cognizant of its wonder.
Thus, even as my hands and feet grow rough and dry as the years slough off my life, I appreciate that Life is Good: beautiful and satisfying despite the despair and suffering. This is all I need; the amazing experience of breathing, thinking, tasting, feeling, and touching. I’ll work hard and do right in the absence of threat or reward in the hereafter.
This existence is worthwhile to me in and of itself. In this, I differ from the vast majority of my fellow human beings; most require a dogmatic religion to curb their misanthropic, self-destructive proclivities.
Not so for me, which is one of the reasons I ascribe the atheist label to myself, even though my atheism isn’t altogether traditional, in that I allow myself to indulge the deep connection I feel to the natural world. That is, my atheism is not aspiritual. But my spirituality is not a crunchy or mythological variety; rather a simple existential gratitude.
And so it goes that, even as an atheist, I find much to be grateful for in this season of giving thanks. Nevermind the growing number of my years, the tragedies I’ve seen, the challenges yet to come, or the inevitable futility of my death — I’m grateful for the experience of it all.
