Hergest Ridge

“We thought of life by analogy with a journey, with
a pilgrimage which had a serious purpose at the end
and the thing was to get to that end. But we missed
the point the whole way along. It was a musical thing
and you were supposed to sing or to dance while the
music was being played.”

~ Alan Watt

“What would your good be doing if there were no evil, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? After all, shadows are cast by objects and people. There is the shadow of my sword. But there are also shadows of trees and living creatures. Would you like to denude the earth of all the trees and all the living beings in order to satisfy your fantasy of rejoicing in the naked light? You are a fool.”

– Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita

I started writing a rant about the absurd things even generally smart believers say when they finally get through their heads that I really, totally, and unapologetically do not believe in any gods. Instead I’m posting two of the countless reasons why life is much more beautiful without religion, and especially faith.

So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.
– Bertrand Russell

Religions die when they are proved to be true. Science is the record of dead religions.
– Oscar Wilde

“It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.”
– Oscar Wilde

“The reasons to doubt the existence of God are in plain view for everyone to see: everyone can see that the Bible is not the perfect word of an omniscient deity; everyone can see that there is no evidence for a God who answers prayers and that any God who would grant prayers for football championships, while doling out cancer and car accidents to little boys and girls, is unworthy of our devotion. Everyone who has eyes to see can see that if the God of Abraham exists, He is an utter psychopath—and the God of Nature is too. If you can’t see these things just by looking, you have simply closed your eyes to the realities of our world.”

Excerpt from the Afterword to Letter to a Christian Nation, by Sam Harris.

“And then God died, and demons pulled him through the gates of hell
on his way down, to suffer for his crimes against humanity.”
– Arthur Brash

Third in a series of blog entries out of Iran, its liberal voices seeking a new way to live proud and free from political and religious tyranny.

I could feel the searing sun like a piece of burning coal on my veil… My veil and my long robes make me smell like a corpse… I walk on the street but can’t see the end… Far, far away, a group of trees are doing a choreographed dance…

And I on the street, I’m walking… Passersby, those in cars, can’t see me, as if I’m here but I’m not… Far, far away, I can see a mirror that has taken up the width of the street… And the nearer I get to it the more distant I become… I’m walking in a scorching heat that rips the breath out of you…

I catch a glimpse of myself, lighter, lighter, and lighter… With each step in my mind’s eye, I no longer feel the burden of my walk.

I’m wearing a white short-sleeved top, green shorts, and a scented straw hat… I no longer smell like a corpse or like my grandmother’s damp basement.

I walk freely and am spreading my fragrant sweet dreams among people who cannot see me… They’re running to get away from the harsh, searing sun… What ecstasy…

There is a hand on my shoulder that abruptly swallows my world… The toxic street voice with rage barks: “Pull your veil forward!” I hear, but I don’t want to hear it.

The street filth puts his hand in his back pocket to show he’s searching for something… His mime does not frighten me. He pulls out a transmitter from his putrid shirt pocket and this time pointing at his black patrol van, with fury, hollers: “What do you say now?”

As I was stranded between two worlds… at high noon… I was hungry and thirsty… in an endless street where right at the end the trees were doing a choreographed dance… My veil moved and came forward… A few steps away my veil moved back again.

– Atash

First in a series of blog entries out of Iran, its liberal voices seeking a new way to live proud and free from political and religious tyranny.

Your Holiness,

Have you ever fallen in love? Have you ever gazed into the crimson of the wine, when you can still feel the spot where she kissed you on your eyelids? Have you ever danced? Have you ever had Maz Maz dipped in Mast Moseer? Have you ever worn jeans? Do you know what Mum roll-on deodorant is? Have you ever cried at night? How many years did you go to school? Have you ever made abghosht? Have you ever got a barbeque going? Tell me, what is Newton’s Third Law?

How many times has the scent of springtime in Shiraz driven you wild? Have you ever kissed a dog? Have you ever listened to Persian classical music? Or what about rap? Do you ever whistle?

Have you ever kissed her neck? What about behind her ears?

Have you ever downloaded an MP3 from the Internet? Do you ever ask the guy at the kiosk selling cigarettes how he’s doing? Ever walked through town at midnight? Have they ever raided your home and confiscated your books?

Have you ever been forced into exile? Has it ever happened that you just can’t get the pattern of those tiles in your mother’s kitchen out of your head (for three nights in a row), but you just can’t remember the color? Have you ever called your mother up from far away and asked her to describe the color of those tiles – at the mention of which you both uncontrollably sob?

Have you ever longed for the windows of your apartment in Tehran?