RE: The meaning of Atheism.
September 13, 2010 at 3:42 pm
(This post was last modified: September 13, 2010 at 3:52 pm by everythingafter.)
(September 11, 2010 at 9:31 am)Existentialist Wrote: When somebody feels the need to add a statement like "simply" and "simple" to any definition, it tends to suggest that it is not quite as simple as is being suggested, otherwise the simplicity would be self-evident and the statement would be unnecessary. Am I being ungenerous? It could of course mean that the matter is very simple. The question is, do I believe the people when they claim they see it as simple? I cannot help feeling it is simple in the same way that a bottle top screwed down on a pressurised liquid is simple. It hides terrible potential beneath. It has the feel of the lady doth protest too much. Methinks.
It's a nuance for sure, at least in my statement. My "simply" didn't mean to imply that there was anything "simple" to the choice to not believe (for some it may be, for others, maybe not). I was using the word "simple" more as a tool of language than anything else, to say that defining atheism was not complicated. That's all.
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We have lingered in the chambers of the sea | By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown | Till human voices wake us, and we drown. — T.S. Eliot
"... man always has to decide for himself in the darkness, that he must want beyond what he knows. ..." — Simone de Beauvoir
"As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself—so like a brother, really—I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again." — Albert Camus, "The Stranger"
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We have lingered in the chambers of the sea | By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown | Till human voices wake us, and we drown. — T.S. Eliot
"... man always has to decide for himself in the darkness, that he must want beyond what he knows. ..." — Simone de Beauvoir
"As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself—so like a brother, really—I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again." — Albert Camus, "The Stranger"
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