(December 3, 2012 at 5:45 pm)naimless Wrote: but his idea that he is liberating people and providing people a good experience by taking away their faith is ludicrous.
Perhaps for you, but there are many examples of other people who don't feel as you do. That doesn't make them or you better than each other - it's just a different outcome.
(December 3, 2012 at 5:45 pm)naimless Wrote: I thought it was fairly obvious trusting in a higher power gives you a higher self-esteem.Not at all. Where on earth would you get that idea?
(December 3, 2012 at 5:45 pm)naimless Wrote: The euphoria I have felt from spirituality is something I haven't been able to get close to through-out my 8 years of agnostic-atheism.What about spirituality gave you a euphoria?
(December 3, 2012 at 5:45 pm)naimless Wrote: As a side note, I'm simply talking about the spirituality of living.This?
(December 3, 2012 at 5:45 pm)naimless Wrote: I'm a musician and a lyricist and on another forum they seem to understand better what I am referring to. I think it does have a lot to do with this.I'm going to have to try and read that later, as it's long, and see why someone who is "gifted" should feel existentialism more keenly than someone who is "normal".
Me personally, I suppose you could call me a sensualist. I revel in being alive as much as I can within the confines of the society we've built. I take pleasure in being alive, because there's always some pleasure to be had in the day. I'm fortunate enough to live in strata of society and a country where there are many pleasures to be had. Whether there's an overarching purpose to my existence or not is up to me, but meanwhile there's so much to enjoy. The sun-bright explosion of sweetness of a southern peach. The complex bitter-sweet astringency of wine. The wet, honey-filled scent of a hybrid-tea rose. The feel of my lover's body coiled around mine on an early Sunday morning, shuttered in from a gentle thunderstorm outside that blows in the scent of ozone and darkness and life-giving rain. The stubborn tenacity of spring arriving every year to paint a riot over the earth. The uncaring seep of water through the rocks beneath our feet, carving out underground cathedrals we'll never see unless we're lucky. The stars we look up to, filled with world unknown - things to strive for like the pioneers of Whitman's poem. None of these require meaning. They just are. And they give rise to more wonder and joy than ever the idea that someone "created" us did. Instead, knowing that all those distant lights we reach for actually created us - that we are, as NDT said, "star stuff" - THAT is the heady euphoria that keeps me running. It doesn't have to be about me, because it IS me.
"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."