For those who don’t believe.
I never felt at home in the church. The idea that an all-powerful, supreme being created me along with the heavens and earth just never clicked. How man came to exist neither fascinated me nor did what happens after death.
I guess the men of God sensed this unbelief but could never quite understand what it was. To them, it was just wrong, unholy—something I needed to be delivered of. Oh, the number of deliverance sessions I attended. Many a time, I just gave them a performance because who am I if not an entertainer?
The last time I attended a service was in 2018 at a small Pentecostal church where my parents were active members.
Earlier that year, I joined the ushering team in a bid to get closer to my maker. Being an usher was great. I loved everything about it but somehow I still felt like an outsider. So that Sunday morning in 2018, as I stood at my post watching the congregation break out in fervent prayer, it dawned on me that I would never feel what these people feel. I would never believe; I just couldn't. I stopped going after that day.
At some point, I identified as a pantheist.
To a pantheist, everything in the universe — from stars to animals to people — is part of one divine spiritual force. This force is not a separate God, but is present within nature and the universe itself.
But pantheism stopped making sense to me after a while.
Then I picked up atheism — the lack of belief in gods. Soon enough, I figured I didn’t even feel strongly enough about the whole thing to lack belief in gods. I just didn’t care.
These days, when I have to fill in my religious beliefs on forms, I choose "other.” Thank goodness for others.
Solipsism and religion
I like to read anything and everything. I’m like the cat that curiosity killed. So last year, when I stumbled on this blog post about solipsism, I was intrigued.
Solipsism is the philosophical idea that you alone are a genuine conscious being, and everything else could be an elaborate figment of your imagination.
It argues that you can only verify the reality of your own inner thoughts, emotions, and subjective experiences. And that’s not wrong at all. You really can’t be sure what goes through other people’s minds.
Are they even thinking at all? Are you sure they’re not just bots?
The solipsism idea taps into the deep human fear of being utterly alone in the universe. The feeling that no one would ever understand how you feel, that no matter how hard you try, you would never fully know a person. It’s an alienating viewpoint when you dwell on it too much.
Religion, I think, was humanity’s early attempt to overcome the existential solitude that solipsism implies.
The idea of an all-knowing spiritual being that sees into everyone’s souls — one that understands you better than anyone else — sounds pretty damn comforting, I’ll admit. I mean, a trustworthy entity that loves you unconditionally? I get the appeal, even if I don’t buy into it myself.
But for those who don’t believe — for those who like me never felt at home with religion — where do we take refuge when the road gets lonely? And trust me it does.
Personally, I find solace in art.
In the work of creatives — artists, writers, musicians — who seem to reach right through the solipsistic veil to say, “Hey, I feel you. I see you. I understand.”
Musicians like Jon Bellion, whose naked, honest lyrics provide that warm embrace of someone who understands your pains, fears, and scraps of happiness at a bone-deep level.
Writers and poets whose words make you feel truly seen and connected to something bigger than your individual existence.
That’s home for me when the cold winds of an indifferent universe start chapping my skin.
Artists — those are my people.
