On being faithless

I am a faithless person. Meaning that I don’t experience faith.

Also, I don’t believe there’s an ultimate reality… or rather, I don’t care about it. Think of an ant considering what those huge wheeled noisy monsters are all about and they think this and believe that and come up with theories, and create stories, but mother taking kids to school in an SUV just doesn’t enter their minds. All they need to do is not cross the black barren area, what those wheeled monsters are, ultimately, doesn’t matter. Far better to just get on with building the anthill. That’s all. 

Problem is, I don’t have an anthill. Just a lot of little project things that, ultimately, seem rather pointless.

I don’t have a vision of how things “should” be, in part because I am not a moral realist, and in part because I believe that for anything to work is a collaboration that involves both conflict and cooperation in a project in which the interests of no one are paramount all the time, such that, inevitably, some will suffer and others flourish, but that it changes all the time. So I just can’t see that hard and fast rules ever help, because things change. And I certainly, and I believe humanity generally (with or without super processing) can ever handle the complexity of the system. To think that I could seems to me arrogant, and is, in my view, the worst crime of anthropocentrism. I know I do not know best.

So where the hell does one go from here?

This made me think of the lines from an Auden poem: Lay your sleeping head, my love, human on my faithless arm. I have always loved that.

The crows, no doubt, see me as faithless. I have not been to the park often of late. So one has come here.

The crow ousted a magpie who was on the same brutally butchered branch.

And a new visitor from the park. A mistle thrush.