You'll notice that posting has been sparse lately. I'm in the midst of an existential crisis of sorts. After spending thirty-two of my forty-three years in church, and after spending seven years and thousands of dollars on two religion degrees, I have reached a place where I simply don't know what to do next. The danger of ceasing to believe is that there is nothing to believe in immediately. It's not like I've traded Christianity for atheism, and could thus become a Dawkins-ish fundamentalist railing against the faith. No. I just stopped believing in much of what Christians hold to be true. What do I replace that with? Drinking? Not exactly constructive. Knitting? I don't like yarn. Food? I don't want to be a fat bastard.
I heard Lewis Black talking about the Pledge of Allegiance yesterday. It was funny, of course, but he makes a point that most atheists don't give a shit about the "under God" part because "they don't have the energy to have faith." (He also mentioned that it's only recited by elementary students who have no fucking idea what they're even saying. He also suggested that if atheists do have a problem with it, they might just have their kids say "one nation under dog.") I thought his point was funny, if sadly true. Not that atheists have no energy, but that having faith requires energy. I no longer have that sort of energy, but I find myself in a malaise because there seems to be nothing to believe in the absence of Christianity. I'm sure it's much the same for practitioners of other faiths who stop believing as well. Perhaps it's just as well. I don't want to be the AA dry drunk, who in the absence of drinking, finds some new cause to become zealous about.
Anyway, that's the long explanation for the sparse posts. I just can't get up the energy to give a shit. Just driving by a church makes me weary. I think I'll turn my attention to caring for flying foxes or pygmy goats. Fainting goats would be fun too. I wonder if Micah and Kristen would let me keep fainting goats on their farm. Then I could go over to the End of the Road Farm and scare the little bastards into a faint whenever I feel perverse. Kind of cathartic, you know?