A life fulfilled (Finally)

With the end of 2011 looming, I debated on whether or not I should put pen to paper, err fingers to keyboard, and write some lengthy retrospective on 2011, as it seems so cliché to compose a formulaic retelling of the year’s lessons. However, 2011 was a legen... wait for it...dary (a la Barney Stinson) year for me, so I felt it deserved some reflection. The end of 2010 brought about the death of my faith, which to some was an unimaginable loss. To me, it marked the beginning of an amazing journey. 2011 was my first year as an atheist, and at every turn, my new worldview revealed a new experience for me.

What I’ve taken from 2011 is that regrets aren’t healthy. Some days I look at the past 14 years of my life that I spent as a bible believing Christian and I feel a deep sense of regret, as if I hadn’t lived my life to the fullest. Other days I’m thankful for those years because clearly, they made me who I am today. I’m reminded of a quote from, of all things, a religious text. The Urantia Book talks of the inevitabilities of life:

“Life isn’t fair. It’s beset by vicissitudes and by certain inevitabilities. The earth isn’t heaven, it’s an evolutionary world where we learn, gain wisdom, and progress as the result of accumulating experience. Consider the following: If courage, strength of character, is desirable then you must be reared in an environment which necessitates grappling with hardships and reacting to disappointments...”

Needless to say, the loss of one’s faith is a hardship and a disappointment. Although, I learned in the last year how I respond to things when I’m not weighed down by the impossible standards of my religion. I learned how I function in love. I learned how I function in love’s eventual end. I learned that I am strong, that I love this life for life itself. I take more joy in the pleasantries of my existence. As annoying as my dog can be at 6 AM, the rhythmic tapping of her claws on the hardwood and her excited pacing in anticipation of her impending feeding time no longer annoys me. Things like that remind me that I have made it through another night to see the dawn of a new day. That dawning of a new day is both figurative and literal. In my prior state of mind, my days were beleaguered with the near constant yearning for something more. It was a time of my life marked by the darkness of night. I longed not for a deeper relationship with god, but for physical affection, emotional intimacy, the love of another person that went beyond the shallow Sunday morning church chitchat and the banality of obligatory holiday family phone calls and empty prayers to an absent god.

In 2011, at 28 years old, I fell in love for the first time. It was everything I had hoped it would be. In spite of the ultimate end of that relationship, I took away from it good memories and a new knowledge of who I am, who I should be, and who I long to be. I learned that I had some growing to do, but I also learned that there are things about me I should never have the aspiration to change. I learned that my words get me in trouble. I learned who my real friends are. Most importantly, I learned to love every minute of life on this earth. In 2011 I experienced joy, pain, sadness, loss, and enlightenment.

I’ve found that most who don’t understand my worldview expect that I’m miserable. I’m not. 2011 has been the best year of my life so far in spite of certain setbacks. I know that from here things can only go up. I hope that the demise of my faith would help those who love me to see that I am all the better for having discarded the superstitious. Now that I realize this life is all I have, I reflect on the importance of each day, of each interaction. I realize that life is too short to fight about silly beliefs, so I’m learning to bite my tongue. I’m hoping that 2012 will be a year of reconciliation, a year of understanding, and a year of growth. I hope that there will be an uptick in the intensity with which I live my life. I’m reminded of the words of Christopher Hitchens, who was a prominent figure in the atheist community.

“The only position that leaves me with no cognitive dissonance is atheism. It is not a creed. Death is certain, replacing both the siren-song of Paradise and the dread of Hell. Life on this earth, with all its mystery and beauty and pain, is then to be lived far more intensely: we stumble and get up, we are sad, confident, insecure, feel loneliness and joy and love. There is nothing more; but I want nothing more.” – Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011)

Here’s to 2012. May it bring you peace, love and joy that is deeper, stronger, and a far greater satisfaction than can be found in the pages of any religious text.