An Agnostic’s opinion on God

It was about 10 years ago when it hit me. I was sitting on my friend’s couch watching “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” while desperately Bic lighter bombing the fleeting amount of resin in his small glass pipe. I needed whatever I could get besides my six semi-cold tall boys to muster up enough tolerance to cope with a film that I was only watching as a favor to my friend who I had made fun of for liking “children’s movies”.

I’m not a fun person to watch movies with. I’m the type of jerk who when put in the position of being shown an important or meaningful movie constantly asks questions that demean, undermine and cannot be answered. My best known catch phrase: “Why don’t they just…?” is almost always followed with the obvious “Oh, then there wouldn’t be a movie”. I’ve never been a believer. If I had to believe in something; it would be that if the fat kid Sam in “Lord of the Rings” was sent to destroy the ring instead of that slow kid Frodo, we would have had one 90 minute movie about how to pack snacks, say no and resist putting on other people’s jewelry. “Oh look, lava… Done…”

So there I was on my friend’s couch being my normal jerk-self, half stoned and obsessing about how Sirius Black is the ultimate rapper name, when it hit me. From literally out of nowhere, a life changing decision came to me for no good reason. I jumped up from the couch like I was possessed and made an announcement out loud as if I was proudly declaring my reverence to the Elven Wizard Counsel of GriffinShire.

“Nothing is true”!

My friend did not even notice or care. He probably thought I was making some snide remark about the movie, but I wasn’t. I was serious. The stars had just aligned in a way that made perfect sense for me. What if I didn’t have to believe? What if belief just was created by humans to divide us and create wars? What if I could still have an opinion without the burden of being stuck with it? What if I’m wrong… About everything… Ever… And that’s OK? I had just decided that nothing is really true, nothing is absolute, and it felt amazing. Up until that moment I had been slowly grooming myself for this epiphany and it just came to me like a sudden violent burp that surprises you with it’s force and volume.

My favorite thing about being Agnostic is that since I don’t ‘believe’ in anything, then anything is possible. It’s like having your cake and eating it too. Everything is potentially and probably right and wrong at the same time. Look, if you believe or just consider that the Universe is even a fraction of as vast and unknowable as scientists think it is, how can we possibly be right about anything? How can one species of mammal on a planet that is one of billions within a Galaxy that is one of billions possibly be right about anything? The odds and probability are marginally more in favor of us being wrong about everything. But that’s my second favorite thing about being Agnostic; I don’t care about being right. I care about what people think and what they discover and the amazing things they make work.

I like to imagine one of those Tall Grey Aliens walking out of some awesome looking spaceship like the one from “Flight of the Navigator” and asking me what I know. I’ve thought about this way too much. After years of deliberation on this scenario, I’ve decided to go with: 1+1=2. At first I thought it was rock solid, as if the Tall Grey would be impressed with my embracement of such a fundamental and simplistic truth. But what if it’s not true? I know. It seems incredibly dense of me to doubt an instrumental building block of intercontinental travel, space exploration and this laptop that I’m currently typing on. But what if? Bear with me here; what if all of the technological achievements, medical miracles and amazing weapons of war that the human race creates are enough to leave us all speechless with amazement but are merely useless parlor tricks to a being capable of intergalactic exploration?

What if belief is just a vanity that keeps us from questioning what could potentially hurt our fragile egos?

I was raised in a Christian household by two supportive and loving parents who encouraged me to think for myself. I attended Catholic school, I took communion and I was confirmed under St Francis of Assisi because he is the patron saint of animals. This of course means that in 1995, long before the internet had matured into what it is today; I thought cats and puppies were cooler than you, and that makes me an epic hipster time bandit.

I believed in Christianity. When I say ‘believed’ I really mean that I mostly wanted to be a good little boy and make my parents proud of me. One of my most vivid memories of being an adorable Christian child was laying in bed at night and trying to imagine being nothing. It scared the crap out of me. The idea that there was no Heaven and no otherworldly continuation of the happy and only life that I’ve ever known was frightening. The idea that everything could just end and I would NEVER think or feel anything ever again was so terrifying, I prayed. I begged. For the first time in my life that I can remember; I was being manipulated by a belief. I was afraid of what it would be like to not have something that I had been taught to want and I was willing to beg for it.

I went through many phases of higher power contemplation through the years. As a Teenager in Austin, TX around 1996, I went through a hippie/Bill Hicks phase where I believed that all the energy and atoms in the universe culminated a singular life force that we all shared and experienced. In my later teen years and early twenties I believed that there was a sexless and unknowable being that adapted itself in many forms so that every culture on Earth(and in the Universe) could know it’s existence.

Then I stopped believing. That night on my friend’s couch, all of the pieces fell perfectly slotted together and then spilled out like a game of “Connect Four” and I could pick them up and rearrange them however I liked with no rules or victor.

God isn’t anything or everything. God is what is not.

You’ve probably heard or read about the “God Particle” in reference to the Higgs boson particle. If you haven’t, let me give you the ‘for dummies’ explanation in the words that I like to use. So, these three total nerd-virgin scientist types decided that there must be some kind of medium or matter in which all particles interact with in order to attain mass on a subatomic scale. Wait, let me try this again… There is stuff in between the stuff that makes the stuff that you can see and touch. The Higgs field is thought to be everywhere in the universe. Think of it like water. If you were one of octillions(a number with 27 zeros) of atoms in a giant swimming pool the size of the Universe, then the water would be the Higgs field and the particles that make up the water would be Higgs bosons. The resistance that you feel with your cute little atom-arms would be you interacting with the Higgs field and there for establishing your mass as a sweet little HumAtomoid.

That night after leaping from my friend’s couch and decreeing my soul to the world and no one all at the same time, after professing my non-belief in anything, the second words out of my mouth were “God is what is not”. Maybe God does or doesn’t exist within the in-between of everything or maybe God does or doesn’t exist at all, I no longer cared. I sat back down, gripped my Lonestar tall boy with a long satisfying grin and resumed grilling my poor victimized friend with more unanswerable questions about Dumble-dork and Her-whiney. I was happier then I had ever felt. I was at peace with everything. The burden of knowing the truth was no longer a concern that ruled my subconscious and dictated my actions. I could have happily died right there and then with no fear of oblivion.

After all, oblivion may or may not be where God lives. Maybe Heaven is a place that transcends our primitive understanding of nothingness and absence.

I try really really hard to always say “I think” or “it’s my strong opinion”. As in; it’s my strong opinion that murdering human beings and eating them is wrong. This of course means that I’m not saying that homicidal cannibalism IS wrong, but I ‘think’ it is. This is an extreme example of the difference between belief and opinion that I strive to adhere to. I refuse to impose my opinions as facts or truths and accordingly, I will not accept yours or anyone else’s beliefs or opinions as absolute. EVERYTHING however, is really cool. I love religion AND science because I don’t have a moral investment in either. I LOVE conspiracy theories and outlandish ‘news’ stories because they are usually awesomely ridiculous and entertaining. I love everyone; the Ghandis and the Stalins, I might disagree with them but I will not call them wrong. The best I can do is WANT to die for, defend and stand up for people I encounter who I think are being treated unfairly.

Throughout my mid 20’s and early 30’s I drank my ass off and merrily honed my Agnostic craft. I had not a care in the world. I was in the driver seat of my life, shaping reality with skillful pats and strokes from my horse haired brush of perspective. If only I could take this to the next level… There has to be something I’m missing here. I needed to look inward. I needed to find the reason for my journey. I was at peace with suffering and sadness. I had embraced the balance of good and evil. I had realized, recognized and formed opinions about almost everything but there was still something missing, something big, something profound. Answers did not come to me until I sought help for my voracious and insatiable drinking hobby.

The first time I stepped foot into the rooms of AA, I felt right at home. I had found a missing link in my voyage. Me. My problems were always a product of me and my belief in myself. See, I had given up believing in almost everything but conveniently my ego had hidden away the most important belief of all; myself. I spent so long glorifying myself, MY achievements, MY creations, MY everything that I had seemingly created from thin air. I freaking worshiped myself, I had become God.

When I thought about the idea of believing in a power greater than myself I realized that what it actually meant was; can you acknowledge that there’s something in the entire Universe greater than you? For me, that was an easy Agnostic brain teaser; everything. I practically cracked my knuckles with arrogance and thought; sure, the mountains, ocean, time and space are all greater than me, trees are greater than me, heck, even Roaches are greater than me, I mean pffff, duh, of course. And then it hit me… That’s when I received the next greatest gift of realization I’ve ever been granted; none of it is mine.

Nothing is mine, not even my arrogant answer to the higher power question. My desire for possession, credit, ownership and my opinions are all ways that I make myself God. I had already worked for many years on not being right and I had already sharpened my sense of neutrality. My new mission from that point until now has been to educate myself about not only the desire to be right, but the desire to possess and take credit for being the way I am. It is one of many missions that I’m sure I will endure until I am gone from this world. My ideas are not truly mine, they are borrowed. I am nothing, I am just a vessel for all that is and has ever been.

Don’t get me wrong though, I still like myself, like, a lot. I still think I’m pretty neat and I love myself. I just don’t need to be special, I’m already part of something special and always have been.

So, what is my opinion on God?

It is and isn’t complicated.

God is my scapegoat.

God is a Bucket.

Not just any Bucket though, when I close my eyes and imagine God; it’s one of those 5 gallon work Buckets. It used to be a plain stock white color but it has been loved by years of faithful service. It has blemishes, stains and dents from being thoroughly used. It’s been worn down over a very long time and it has character. It’s stoic and noble in stature and it has a warm and comforting presence. Everything I have ever thought or known or said came from that Bucket, every combination of words and gestures I’ve ever conjured came from that Bucket and everything that I create, say and produce goes back into that Bucket.

I am not the creator of anything, I am a re-arranger of what has always been.

The credit and glory are not mine, they belong to the Bucket as do I. Without the Bucket I become inundated with veneration for myself. Without the Bucket I devour myself until all that is left is an ego proudly perched on the ruins of body and soul. Without the Bucket I am like a young determined wizard rescuing his uncle from a conspiracy involving a dead… Wait… No…

Without the Bucket, I am nothing more than an apparition of my wishes and desires.