In the morning, when consciousness is
struggling to begin facing the day, the habit of having a coffee
kicks the neurons into gear. The mind stirs and is suddenly alive
and aware that it is facing a new adventure. No death in sleep
this time. One night though, but then again I wouldn't know,
would I?
The sun casts a golden glow in the east. No illusions as
to thoughts of supernatural origins begetting this nuclear
furnace for the most of history, for me. Pondering how the
ancients considered the Earth as the centre of everything, with
the Sun revolving around it, has me thanking my lucky stars for
the scientific knowledge existent today.
Heading out for my early
morning stroll in the chill winter air with a thick fog
encompassing all before me, gladdens the feeling that I am
entering the realm of nature in the raw. No need to fear
mysterious and ghostly creatures suddenly appearing out of the
mist or indeed, the "Devil" arriving to take my soul,
or any other such nonsensical happening.
The excess moisture
dripping from the gum leaves and branches reminds me of the
interdependence and interplay of chemicals and structures of
them, and how the immensity of time has moulded all things to be
as they now are in my presence.
A disappearing rabbit, a Kangaroo
in the distance, the first call of a Raven with the ensuing
warble of awakening magpies heralds the new day. Life, as it has
been in a multitude of shapes and sizes since time immemorial
prepares to live once again, to feed, to become strong, all for
the purpose of eventual reproduction. My mind can hardly
appreciate the thousands upon thousands of times the circle of
life, for each animal I pass, has taken place.
Reality of the
harshness of nature is brought home with a pile of feathers
strewn at the base of a Wattle. To live, some must die and a
mockery of "god is love" passes through my thoughts. How many
creatures were torn asunder last night? This is not creative love
- this is sadism by an all-powerful monster. I move away from these
thoughts before despondency of the foolishness of a god fearing
humanity sets in.
The fog gives way to the rising heat of the Sun
and in the distance the mosaic patterns known so well,
re-establish themselves, with my amazement as new, as though it
were the first sighting. How full of wonder it is to be alive.
Breakfast is accompanied by the radio telling of all the new
horrors that have taken place locally and internationally. As
each item is reported, the count for religious responsibility
rises and I marvel why the connection is not mainstream. My heart
is saddened for those thus suffering, and in opposition, my joy
in having rejected superstition somewhat ameliorates the feelings
of guilt that the religious should have but do not.
Today is
Sunday, and whilst billions of other people will be mumbling to
their god, I will be shopping for food. I contemplate for a
moment what I would think, were I a god and what effect a few
billion or so whining, whinging and crawling servants would have
on me. They do not even know if I really exist, yet, that does
not stop them. What a sad and frightened lot is my creation. Too
brainwashed to think for themselves. Back to reality land and I
am oh so happy that I am not one of them.
The shopping centre is
a hive of activity. A collection of humanity busily pushing and rushing
and mostly looking unhappy. The cupboard was bare and now the
trolley is overfull. I do not thank a god for this harvest but I
do consider the effect my living has on the planet. I buy with
this in mind, looking for ingredients and packaging that have the
least effect on precious earthly resources. It is very noticeable
that not many of my fellow purchasers are similarly discerning
and I ponder if the "god will provide" philosophy is at fault. To
some extent, this would have to be correct.
The car takes me away
from the crowded shops. The millions-of-years-aged petrol
pollutes the atmosphere as I go, leaving me reinstating promises of
being thrifty as possible with its use. There is some consolation,
in that of the religious people I know, most are more concerned
with the actual monetary cost of fuel and it is reinforced with
me that such a philosophy is flawed at the basic level.
Passing
the ample supply of churches, I notice that some are full and
some are not. A profound happiness enters my consciousness at
having escaped the cultural absurdities of worshipping a pretend god. My
luck in this can only be described as beyond belief. To be born
is winning the lottery, to live for an average span is another,
but to be able to think any thought without guilt or compromise,
is the lottery of all lotteries.
The rest of the day is amused
with natural process, and away from the ever-present reminders of
godly things, such thoughts are not even entertained. The
pleasure of a quiet dinner with a couple of wines, of writing to
a few friends via E-Mail, of another attempt at fixing a broken
gate, of phoning a family member and just contemplating the joy
of living, leaves the mind in a state of comfort and serenity.
The night has arrived, it is a few hours old, and the rain is
softly pelting on the western windows. The television has transformed
from the entertaining to the banal and it is time to retire for
this day.
As I lay in bed before sleep envelopes my Universe, I
contemplate today's events. My very last thoughts, before I am
unconscious once again, revolve around my incredible luck of
arriving at a position of actually seeing life as life really is.
The induced phantoms of a ubiquitously taught unreality lay slain, and exist no more.
I drift off into the
land of Nod, and I am complete. Goodnight.