Dyslexic Insomniac Atheist...

A joke I read in New Headway Upper-Intermediate (the ESL textbook with which, for my first year as a teacher, I had a relationship that was most certainly love-hate): "Ever heard the joke about the dyslexic insomniac atheist? He lies awake at night wondering about the existence of Dog." I don't think it's particularly fair to make jokes about insomnia or dyslexia, having suffered from the former for the better part of my young life. But fervent, evangelical atheists are a bunch that appear, to me, very worthy of being on the receiving end of a little humour, since, at their worst, they seem such a humourless bunch, like most ideologues.

There's no way of proving the existence of any intangible, imperceptible forces or realms or beings either way-- in the textbook of Ancient Greek history I worked from as a teaching assistant, the authors defined religion as "the belief in invisible non-humans." That's just it, I think, however crudely put-- God, gods, heaven, hell, et cetera, are invisible to our direct sensory experience. So we can't say they exist or don't exist by the standards of scientific proof or evidence apart from the religious experience of certain individuals, or Jesus potatoes if one is so inclined.

Religion, of course, can and has been used as a very efficient means of social control-- by its very nature, it speaks to the that most personal part of our selves: that part that wonders about life after death, the part that loves our families, the part that produces our own ethical codices. It's the part of most people that is least able to compromise, and in that, it's terribly dangerous. I think that the world would be a better place if everyone thought for themselves, and was reasonable about their actions in the world.

But being reasonable isn't always about being rational. It's almost as if many atheists, the hard-line type, take it as given that anybody who thought deeply enough about the metaphysical and ethical questions that religion answers, would become an atheist. And I think that assumption is faulty. I think it's entirely plausible that someone could choose, without being indoctrinated, and having a fair and balanced education, to believe in invisible non-humans. Like Bishop Spong or Paul Tillich. I recommend reading their books, since their prose is as readable as their ideas are digestible.

Of course their are still the Jack Chicks and Osama Bin Ladens of this world. But perhaps, if either of them had come to adulthood in Maoist China, they'd be running about killing sparrows, if you get my drift. Why? Because they are unreasonable people. To a certain extent, human life is made infinitely better by irrationality: love, that greatest of pleasures and pains, is completely irrational, as is personal taste; but science too is based off the idea that causality is a real and proveable phenomenon, though Hume and his skeptic ilk have shown that causality is as great of a leap of faith and judgement as my adamant belief that good cheese should smell like my feet do after walking from school in my green polyester sneakers. But being reasonable is about a willingness to compromise if a better, more efficient or more effective idea or method is found. Many of the religious people I've met or even read are reasonable, while there are many atheists out there who are as polemic and evangelical as any Bible-belt Jesus freak.

Personally, my god is an anarchist with a twisted sense of humour and an absent mind. Having spoken to him personally (though our divine Skype chats have stopped for some time now) I feel that my god is nothing like the god of any of the religions I've studied. He likes it when I read books or talk to friends and change my mind about him. He wants me to be happy and safe, but to experience as much as I can on this little blue marble. He doesn't interfere in my life, and isn't paternal or all-knowing or even all good, the way we would concieve of it. He's just there to thank when some strange but wonderful coincidence happens, like double yolks or sunshowers or a running across a great deal on a laptop, as I did last week. And I think he's there in the hearts of people who are kind and loving, since I try to be kind and loving too when I think of him. Also, I say he because I picture him taking comprehensible form as a male Parisian mime, like Marcel Marceau, precisely because he's been muted in my mind.

The World Wide Wonderful...

So here be me and my blog. I thought I'd start by sharing my recipe for anarchist cookies, which are meant to defy the social norms of what a cookie should be:

Anarchist Cookies

Makes two dinner plates of anti-authoritarian yummyness.

3 cups flour
3⁄4 cup melted butter
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
Milk ‘till squishy
Tiny bit of vanilla extract
Teaspoon of baking powder
1⁄2 teaspoon of salt

For anarchy, as much as you like of:

Dried fruit (figs, coconut, apricot, mango, apple, etc...)
Seeds (pumpkin, sunflower; de-shelled, of course)
A packet of coloured chocolate button things
Chopped up chocolate, especially flavoured or unusual chocolate
Toffee
Nuts (almonds or peanuts do really well)

1. Pre-heat the oven to 190 C / 375 F.
2. Grease a baking sheet with butter.
3. Mix the cookie dough ingredients in a large bowl. Add milk until the mixture is soft and squishy,
like proper cookie dough.
4. Add anarchy. By that, I mean the seeds and chocolate and things.
5. Bake until golden brown.
6. Serve with tea and discuss hacking the corporate reality.

Many thanks to Lauren who helped me develop this recipe. I think I'm going to try and use Astrology in the Kitchen to develop thoughts and ideas I have that don't fit in to my other workish things (poems, papers and whatnot). Many thanks for reading!