Halp. I’m turning into the spiritual woo-woo person I used to loathe
I remember when I was 17 and 18. I was so…logical. Dismissive of all things spiritual. I used to be the perfect /r/atheism redditor. Pick fights with religious people? Sounds like a perfect way to pass Friday night. Who cares if I made them feel small. Maybe things are better off that way and they’ll lose their silly fantasies and fairy tales!
Life was one big accident. Oh, and it was nothing special. The universe came from nothing. Like, why not? We have no evidence otherwise of a creator. And who created the creator, anyway? All of our emotions have some evolutionary algorithmic purpose that’s self driven, without any shred of conscious purpose.
I didn’t need anything to worship. I had Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, and Lawrence Krauss to explain the world to me. I also had an enormous library (I really did, actually). I thought books = righteousness.
Sadly, it’s taken me nearly a decade to break free from the shackles of false intellectualism.
I was raised as a Christian. Like, perfect WASP (white anglo-saxon protestant) material. Mommy enrolled me in Bible school just to pass the hot summer days. All I remember is juice and cookies and singing…
