The Loneliness of Truth

So, I recently made a comment over on Pmomma's blog, and I made reference for something I've been meaning to write about for some time.

Atheism is a lonely proposition. Really. Through repeated observation and conversation, I've come to believe that theists believe in a God for the same reasons little children have imaginary friends: it gives them a sense of comfort, someone they can connect with.

I mean, how often have you heard some bornagain evnagelical asshole talking about how they were an alcoholic/drug-addict before they "came to Christ"? Or somebody talking about how they thought their life was pointless and were seriously considering committing suicide, but changed their minds when one of their friends/relatives/coworkers mentioned a book to them with some hippy as the protagonist, who ultimately wound up nailed to a wooden cross?

The truth is, the people who act like this are, in addition to suffering from psychological and neurological issues, probably very lonely. Really, what's the point of living when life is just the mundane existence it is, occasionally and punctuated by brief moments of elation, enlightenment, inspiration, and contentment tempered by grief, pain, hunger, hatred, anger, and lust?

When you make that final step, the one where you place logic, rationality and empiricism above human emotion and animal desires as a method for dictating your actions, you come to the stark realization that there really is no default reason to live. Granted, passing your genes on is always a good starting point, but then you're no better than your dog. Who, I might mention, doesn't even have the luxury of a functioning reproductive system if you are a responsible owner.

It is an interesting paradox: you want to find the will to live. Why is that? At first, it seems like seeking an explanation for this leads to infinite recursion: you want to find a reason to live because you want to find a reason to live because you want to find a reason to live because...

However in my case, I realized that self-termination would have negative impacts other than the permanent cessation of my conscience: my family would be devastated, my friends would have a reduced opinion of me, and the world would miss out on the innovations I have to give it (you guys have absolutely no idea what a treat you're in for!).

I have my reasons for continuing my existence: I want to be better than those who I respect intellectually, and I want them to know it; I want to fall in love completely, with someone in whose company I can truly allow myself to be weak; I want to have children, passing on both my genes and my intellect, both of which stand apart from others' contributions in their respective categories; I want to make the world a radically better place, and in so doing achieve immortality; I want to make things, because when it comes down to it engineering, artifice, and insight are my truest passion.

In the end, it comes down once again to the distinction between Humans and animals: as a man I am compelled, via rational analysis of my current situation and application of known trends, to contemplate the future and project onto it my desires; this is where hopes and dreams come from. Contrast this with an animal, who has no long-term wants-- and thus, neither hopes nor dreams nor machinations of the creative mind; only desires, applicable exclusively to the now.