Born Unplugged Pt. 6

(Click here for Part 5)

In the fall of 2001 I was a sophomore college.   America was attacked by group of religious fanatics and the face of the country had changed politically, economically, and perhaps worst of all, spiritually.  Lines were being drawn as the world’s attention turned to our country and its newly ‘elected’ president.  Spring semester would find me in an introductory philosophy class with the opportunity to study greats like Kant, Descartes, Socrates and so many others.

              

  At one point the instructor began a discussion involving the concept and nature of evil.  We talked about forms of evil, where it comes from (or potentially comes from), and how to truly define it.  With much of the class being of one Christian denomination or another, and mostly (if not all) black, a fair amount of the discussion consisted of either one-way communication (teacher to student) or one or two students professing the unfettered might of their god and his goodness; “All I know is god take care of everything”.  I didn’t know it then but statements like these were a solid indication of the inability to reason hypothetically, especially in the face of Epicurus’ legendary hypothesis.

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?

             

   I was quick to point out that none of us had a sufficient answer to this, nor could my fellow students articulate a reason for their belief (which isn’t to say I had it all figured out my damn self).  They just believed.  It was god.  That was it for them.  Throughout the discussion I maintained that evil in and of itself is intrinsic to whatever was viewed as good.  Each needs the other; if there’s a god and he was the standard for good and the devil was the embodiment of evil, then neither one could or would destroy the other.  They kept each other in business.  That was the gist of my argument anyway.  This earned me more than a few puzzled looks and grumbles.  It also led me to make the acquaintance of a couple of classmates, not necessarily freethinkers, but thinkers all the same.  One of whom was a devout Christian who tirelessly sought to bring me into the fold.

                For anonymity’s sake, we’ll call my friend “Jay”.  Jay was a pretty cool guy out of DC, a real low-key dude who loved golf and hip hop.  He made it abundantly clear that he was committed to his ‘great commission’ of bringing others to the ‘light of the cross.’  Strangely it was this eagerness that prevented me from slamming the door in his face flat out. That plus I don’t like being a dick.  And thus was the first of many days where we sat and studied the scripture. 

             

   Very interesting conversations ensued, enlightening debates that served us both well intellectually.  I even attended a few services just to see what all his excitement was about (that and the weekends could get pretty boring and it was good to have someone to hang with). That entire time I couldn’t help thinking I was something of a pet project. Perhaps I was to be his first actual convert.  With each session Jay and I would constantly come to a stalemate, with him professing his love for ‘the word’ and how he perceived it to work in his life, while I despite not having read the book nearly enough to point out it’s many atrocities, simply countered with sheer common sense.   The conversation that comes to mind most often is the one we had over the book of Job.  The story where god and satan make a wager to see how long an innocent man keep going after receiving one divine screwjob after another, including but not limited to his slaves, animals, and children being killed  (Job 1:13-19). 

                 At that time my knowledge of history, philosophy and science could have been measured as very little, but it turned out to be enough in defending my position.  I raised questions, offered counter arguments and didn’t hesitate to throw out a handful of zingers that were oozing with blasphemy.  “I can tell that you don’t respect this”, Jay once responded.  And why should I?  I loved the guy to death but did he really think I would give him a pass?  “This book has the answer to EVERYTHING."  What?  “We were made from the earth; he took a pile of dirt and made it something glorious” Huh?  ‘Do what I say or burn’… See where I’m going with this?

                Try as my dear friend might his efforts for conversion proved futile.  And it’s not like I didn’t approach this with an open mind or heart; I chewed on for weeks, came at it from almost every angle I could at the time, it was just wooden nickels to me.  All the same, I understand why he got such a kick out of it. If the salesman’s got the right rap, seems like a pretty sweet deal, and it’s “new and hip”, who wouldn’t snag a one way ticket out of reality.  

--Ryan Scales, August 2014

Beat the Brat?

Sometimes I see joke memes that remark that beating a child when they "act up" teaches them respect, though from what I've seen the outcome is appears to run more along the lines of fear and numerous forms of psyschological and emotional anguish.






I don't have children and I don't want any, but I don't have to be a parent to know that striking a child for any reason DOES NOT help. YES it happens and yes there are 'results'. But do these results provide a lasting lesson that shapes the child for the better, or is it just an immediate solution to the natural childlike behavior that parents sometimes find inconvenient?



I think you can discipline a kid without putting your hands on them and that they can turn out to be pretty swell. Beating your kids doesn't solve behavioral problems and it damn sure isn't funny or cute, and to grow up in a culture that views it in such a manner is, to put it mildly, particularly disturbing.

Here endeth my rant.

<Drops the mic>

Off My Chest No.1

I'll be brief....What I really loved about my last girlfriend, Leah, was that not only could she make me laugh, but she had a way of making me feel like everything was going to be ok. I always felt like that way of think was delusional, especially when my mother would say it, but not her. With her it was some kind of believable, palpable even. Regardless of my shit job at the time, and making just enough to be broke, I felt like I would be fine. That’s probably why I miss her so much. Because I don’t feel like it’s going to be fine…I feel like it’s worse than ever. Way worse. I’m scared. That’s all I was ever taught to be. I was never “prepared” for life. Just told what would happen if I didn’t do this, or say that or act this way or dress that way. Go to school, graduate, get a job…it was supposed to be that simple. If you were an EDUCATED black man the sky was the limit. The Bush administration killed that noise. I’ve spent my entire adulthood playing it safe and I have nothing to show but a mountain of debt and developing heart condition. Starting to think it’s better I jump off the cliff, at least I know the ground is coming sooner or later.

A Letter of Encouragement

Taken from the Thinking Atheist blog page:



A Letter of Encouragement

Over the past year, I've given a speech around the country called, "The Ultimate Question."  It can be viewed on YouTube by clicking HERE.

At the close of that speech, I read a letter to the audience...a letter of encouragement.  So many people have responded to it that I've posted it below.  Enjoy it.  Forward it.  Change or customize it for those in your own circle who might benefit.  And ultimately, be encouraged by it.  -Seth

____

You learn a lot about people when you declare that you are not going to live your life by their rules.  And many in this room know well the consequences of doing something so shocking as to be an individual: a singular voice, an often inquisitive voice, with its own tenor, its own style, its own song, its own message.

We live in a world where conformity is comfort, and we all know well how comfortable people can become.  So many voices are merely an echo…a hand-me-down from a previous generation, and the generation before, and the generation before.  Breaking the cycle is unthinkable, and why would they ever consider it, as the cloak they inherited feels so warm and safe.

Everyone around them looks like them, walks like them, talks like them.  Everyone…except for you.

They nod in agreement.  You raise an eyebrow of doubt.  They just know the answer.  You just know that the answer raises many more questions.  They take security in staying on the path.  You feel compelled to break out and carve a path of your own. 

But this is not what was expected of you.  They laid out the guidelines for a proper person to live, and they would make sure that you turned out right, no matter what.  So what the hell happened?

At this very moment, mothers and fathers carry embarrassment and shame that they failed as a parent, because you left the straight and narrow, because you were co-opted and corrupted, because you re-wrote the playbook in a language that they consider to be foreign...confusing…ugly.

You had two choices.  You could keep the peace and line up with the others.  Or you could walk at your own pace in your own direction for your own reasons and accept the consequences and rewards that come with being your own person. 

The fallout has been significant.  These days, when they look at you, they only see what they think you should have been, what you could have been, if only you had done it their way.  They speak the words of love, but just barely, and by lacing "love" with distance and disdain, they cheapen the word.  In fact, every time they look at you and say “I love you,” you get a bitter taste, like you've just been schmoozed by a politician whose only real concern is changing your vote.

Yes, they love you.  But the full package, the 100 percent, the unfiltered love is kept on reserve until you straighten up, fit in, conform and stop making waves.  Not until you start acting…normal.

For just a moment, let’s take a look at normal.

Normal is a husband and wife, married per the bible, in a church and under God, condemning non-heterosexuals for ignoring and even desecrating the lawful and ordained marital union that they now enjoy…after two divorces.

It’s a mother telling a daughter that sex is dirty.  That her body is dirty.  That sexual desire is harmful lust.  And that she is cursed by the fall of Eve in the garden, a by-product of sin, designed to gain her worth from a future husband who, according to the book of Genesis and the design of God, will rule over her. 

It’s a teacher frightening a 6-year-old child with torture in a fiery Hell and a devil lurking in the dark with designs on its very soul.

It’s refusing to purchase a new car without first test-driving 15 vehicles from six different car lots, checking the vehicle history, payments, insurance, safety record, resale value and consumer ratings…but accepting the bible as fact without even knowing who wrote the book of Genesis.

It’s a church communion ritual where the men, women and children symbolically eat flesh and drink blood.

It’s thanking God for food grown and prepared by human hands.  It’s giving God the glory for providing the new house that came with a 30 year mortgage.  It’s praying for safety after buckling your seatbelt, locking your doors and loading your handgun.  It’s praying for healing…after you call 911.  It’s Sunday school songs, a bible on the nightstand, a check in the offering plate, an evangelist on the television, a Jesus fish on your car and a t-shirt that reads, “Seven days without Jesus makes one weak.” 

It’s a prison disguised to look like a mansion.  And you’re not going to live like that.

You’ve read the books and seen the history and learned the science and realized that the world is much, much grander that most people ever imagine.  You finally found your own voice, and you’re going to speak in it.  You’ve had the epiphany that you don’t owe it to the rest of the world to keep them happy.  You owe it to you to create happiness for yourself.  And even though, wherever and whenever you can, you say the words and take the actions that build bridges and soften the sharp edges and demonstrate a love for people and a desire for a better world, you aren’t a sheep to be led, an echo to be repeated, a cautionary tale, a bad example, a freak, a pervert…shameful…broken…ugly.

You’re not ugly.  You’re beautiful. 

You figured out what so many billions of others have missed.  That this life is too precious to spend in someone else’s shadow.  That when others judge everyone and everything that is different, they only indict your own shallow heart and cheat themselves out of amazing depth, breadth, color, culture and humanity out there that’s so much more wonderful than the tiny rooms people lock themselves into, and the narrow tunnels they walk.  That believing in things without evidence isn’t a virtue, but something to be pitied.  That sexuality isn’t shameful, but something to be celebrated.  That the condemnation of what is wrong, even when it’s called sacred, is the obligation of any moral creature.  That your hopes, dreams, desires, loves, pursuits and passions belong to you and you alone.  That you have stepped out of the crowd.  To stand forward.  To stand out.  To stand your ground. 

To know that, even though you occupy a tiny speck upon a tiny speck inside this vast universe, and even though you don’t believe your father is a divine king and your mission is written in a magic book and you have an eternal mansion in the heavens, your life is wonderful and amazing and precious and so much more satisfying.

Is that kind of life easy?  Nah.  Is it popular?  Maybe not.  But be encouraged, my friends, because inside this 13.7 billion year old universe, there has never been anyone exactly like you, and there never will again.  You’re simply living a life that honestly reflects that fact.  And while others laugh at you because you’re different, you can laugh at them…because they’re all the same.

-Seth Andrews

To suffer or endure

There are some that believe success is the end result of suffering. That suffering is a gift, handed down from some unseen and benevolent master. I would ask these individuals to carefully re-examine the words “suffering” and “benevolent”. Suffering is not a virtue, nor is success always its end result. Those who would extol it as such and claim their success is the result sufferance serve to promote complacency and passivity and I for one find this insufferable.

I choose instead to endure. I am not, nor have ever been (and safe to say will never be) a praying man but were I such, it is doubtful that I would be the type to “give thanks” for the suffering that I encounter in what is unquestionably a difficult life. I would however, as a great man once suggested, pray for the strength to endure that life.

While I am aware that the words ‘suffer’ and ‘endure’ share very much the same meaning, as with any arranging and usage of words, the true implication of my statement lies in its context. For me, to endure is to be active amidst the opposition, to stand when forced to kneel, to speak when silence is insisted, to be ready once the offense has exhausted itself in the effort to overrun your barricades.

To endure is to stand immovable, to bend without breaking, to accept the flow of current without being confined, diverging when the necessity and/or opportunity arises. Not to be trampled, not to be battered, not to be stagnant. Suffering not a gift, it is not the parent of success, and it is nothing to be thankful for. Endurance is a choice, one that can be made without needing gods to beg or thank. A choice that can result in the strength, knowledge, wisdom and courage that comes from knowing YOU have done this and that you can do it again.

--Ryan Scales

June 2014

"We are unique in that we create ourselves"  --Han (Shih Kien), Enter the Dragon, 1973

A quick sharp rant

If I get a chance to travel to a foreign country I might just disappear as soon as I get off the plane…


I was just thinking that it takes too much out of you to make a life here…of course the same can be said of any place in the world, but here everything is structured to keep you pinned down…and so many of us just happily bend over recieve it, even rationalize it…I wish I had better words…We were supposed to be the generation that raged against the machine, not did routine maintence, buffed and waxed it.


I wish I were joking. but if my savings weren’t so low and I had the balls, I would’ve hopped on a plain to europe or brazil and took my chances by now. :/


End rant.

I’m An Atheist, And I’m Proud To Say It

I’m An Atheist, And I’m Proud To Say It