The Name of My Religion

We are here. 

That’s pretty much all we can tell for sure.

We’re we designed?  It would seem to be a pretty big coincidence for everything to happen so perfectly to allow  for life to exist, and evolve to be able to communicate and interact with beings in it’s similar and crazy situation.

So I’m going to go ahead and make the bold statement that something put us in this particular perfect and inexplicably complex reality we find ourselves in. Tied to our past and looking to our future.

We are the effect of some cause.  A series of events within an ordered universe happened in such a way to create the circumstance we all find ourselves in. 

Thrown into the world of pre-existing conditions and belief systems.  Molded to our inescapable circumstance, knowing truly only the thoughts that are in our own minds.  And even those we aren’t so sure about.

But people seem to impose their view onto others with unwaivering certainty. 

How do you know?

You think that you know.  But you don’t know. 

Everyone’s guessing.

How did we get here?  Not sure.  But, as I started off by saying.  We are here.  In this circumstance.  (And to be quite honest, we’re not doing so well.)

What’s going to happen to us when we die? Something. Or. Nothing (but it’s ok because we won’t know the difference anyways if that is the case).

But you can’t base your decisions on using answers to those questions. 

Nobody’s book is right.

It’s a book.

Written by a bunch of dead guys.

Who guessed.  About this crazy place we’re all trying to not die yet in.

And unless you’ve died. I don’t really care about your opinion on what happens to you and me and anybody else who will die.

So the name of my religion is I believe in something and don’t know what it is.

I’m pretty sure. 

But I don’t know. 

Nobody knows.

And the only way to find out is to die.  And then we’ll either find out or we won’t.

But in the meantime, can’t we get something done instead of arguing over ridiculous shit???