Ninety-nine percent of the time, I feel like I have a good bean on things. I know exactly how I think the world works. That's good enough for me, almost all of the time. It's that remaining one percent: the part that comes into play when I need to mourn or grieve, that leaves me, quite literally, hopeless.
My religious beliefs, or lack thereof, probably come as no surprise. Descartes once famously declared in one of his papers that he had not mentioned any supreme being "because he had no need for that hypothesis." That thinking serves me well enough. Admittedly, I dodge the word 'atheist'. It conjures up visions of militant activism, counter-preaching. Not me at all. Believe what you want to believe - I won't intrude on your right to do so; respect my rights to do the same.
when I experience a loss, though, where do I turn? What sees me through? What can possibly work? The answer appears to be, absolutely nothing. I can't take comfort in thoughts of "a better place": don't consider the existence of a soul that goes on, other than in the hearts and minds of those of us left behind. I'm left to grapple with the senselessness of it all, and, above all, the overwhelming feeling of loss without hope to mitigate it.
It's difficult.
Not difficult enough to reconsider the other ninety-nine percent. But, for however long it takes, unbearably difficult. I'm still a human, after all. I have the capacity to feel, and to feel pain. I simply have no spiritual salve to apply.
It's been a rough day. I'm tired. I'll probably regret this as soon as I hit Send. Writing it down, however, feels like therapy. I'll light a candle, stare bleary-eyed into it, go into some sort of secular meditation. I'll take a drink, to help me sleep. I know I'll feel better in the morning; it just doesn't seem that way right now. But, if you think I take the path of least resistance ninety-nine percent of the time, please give a thought to what it does to me at times like this - times when most of the world needs that invisible means of support, and where their attempts at consolation are of little help to me.
It's difficult.
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