Intricacies of the world: satisfaction, significance

My story starts off fairly unconventional, given the very malleability of the fertile mind. Despite being influenced by superstition, tradition, conservatives and relative faith thanks to the immobility of my own family, I’ve never felt a connection deep enough within the world of mystic resonation to ingest as my own. Everyone around me seemed like they had the natural ability to have microscopic eyes, finding the aether inbetween materialism while I only knew that the natural world could be my only source of cerebral sustenance. I’ve been through it all, thanks to the erratic locus of my own family’s spiritual path- Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism, and almost a pact with Taoism once. The agenda was simple according to the very fragmented models I had exposure to when I was very young indeed. If one had a problem, the problem could only be solved by fanciful imagination. Shamans frequented my house, and my mother cited the words of ever evident psychics and mystics to predict her fragile future. We visited monk’s houses, only to find ‘blessed’ remedies such as creams- drugstore creams, I bet- marketed as divine antidotes. At the end of it all it meant nothing, just simply the exploitation of money and societal opulence. If one knew a fellow fool was in reach, he no longer became a fool. Thus came the breeding of insincere theists drowning their misled faith into grandeur. There’s nothing inherently pure about masking an existential quarry and supposition as a full-on hedonist affair for one to think that morality is a sling, a repent away from self-justification. Then again, I hadn’t thought much of it.

That was to remain, until I turned 12- a modal being under the hangover of beat poetry, subjectivity, and crass revelation. The world that had seemed so shimmery under the calculated pretense of society had lost its own allure, there was I- lone, at square one. Religion could have easily crept in and meddled my apathy with a dose of satisfaction, but my mind brewed and that simply could never be enough. All crises stem from the overall encapsulation of trapping oneself within the mind, and the solution had its own dangerous yet necessary appeal to me. Looking into the natural world, head on in the eye with my grit aside. Unlike my ongoing apathy for mystic theatre, I always did possess a flair and passionate affair with scientific truth and reason. Satisfaction was not a kiss, or a cherry on cognac. Satisfaction was completion. Figuring things out as it is was the tango of philosophical rouge, but crimson was my domain. Pure, gritty, objective science.

My first revelation started with astrophysics, deciphering each enigma in the extended world. While dressing my own neurons up with the gorgeous intricacies of spacetime, I wondered- why need there be a purpose for such telling beauty? had faith cultivated through the lack of awareness?

And yes, was I gravely right. I had a phase where I slyly questioned each religious follower that I had known about scientific propositions, and they barely knew anything. It was deafening to hear the rhythm of science lost as the Doppler effect rose to prominence with fleeting ignorance. As all humans are inclined to, I tried to seek a common ground and a commune but there was nothing that I craved more than principles, and not tradition and fear.

That was when I knew, I needed no deity to further my significance on this very brittle planet. With reason, evidence and a string to hold onto my sanity,

I am an atheist.
Grace Sarkunan
This story was first published on ‘Ask An Atheist – SG’ Facebook page in 2016.