It is me casting stones
February 10, 2014 @ 6:02 p.m.
†††††††But despite my motherís adamant belief I am an atheist, well, I am not. When I was a teenager I thought of god as a ball of...something. Perhaps not a conscious creator, but simply where we came from. Tethered to it, going back and forth. Now I understand we are simply energy. And we are tethered. Tethered to each other and a universe. I understand there is something bigger. Something beyond. More.
†††††††So no, I am not an atheist. It is not the concept of ďgodĒ that I oppose. It is the religion that makes me cringe. It is the history. The oppression. Itís impunity. Itís condemnation of the very human ability to err. The worship. The blind following. It is my sister going to catholic school and being forced to write with her right hand. Her coming home and asking if she really is a sinner. It is my fatherís sadness when relating the tale. It is my motherís mea culpa. It is a church full of people obediently kneeling. It is the starving soul and the dying spirit. It is the rituals and the rules. And the way it has destroyed. And the way it has excluded. Distorted beautiful ideas to fit the need of a few. Distorted beautiful books.
†††††††It is that religion is a human government, an insidious government of the soul.
†††††††But mostly it is the sadness at an insane amount of people being unable to reach each other and converse and think and debate.

†††††††And from one another learn.
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