A few days after I got my cancer diagnosis, I had a spontaneous thought that surprised me: a gut-level relief that I no longer follow any organized religion.
The feeling was a surprise because it completely goes against the usual narrative about atheists and life trauma. When bad luck inevitably strikes, we’re supposed to feel a sudden and penetrating fear. We’re supposed to be hit by a fervent desire for traditional religion or for God, who has been waiting patiently for us to grow up and get over ourselves. We’re supposed to realize we’ve been acting like stubborn assholes.
I haven’t felt any of that. Maybe this is because I don’t fit the most narrow definition of an atheist; I don’t believe in any kind of personal god, but I do value a spiritual reverence for the universe. But I think my relief has more to do with a specific difference in the way I think about the universe now versus when I followed a religion.
subtle workings 