Slightly Doolally

It is Sunday and it has been a while since I got deep so ….

I am an atheist and one of the things that irks me is the assumption that because I am an atheist I cannot be spiritual. This sentiment is generally formed into a question by theist friends and colleagues. Sometimes I get it as a direct question “How can you be spiritual? You are an atheist for goodness sake!” or as the rather more condesending qualitative dismissal of me as an “incomplete” person, complete only when I understand God. In fairness the former is a good question and although the latter fair skunders my pish my answer to both is short, absolutely yes I can be an atheist and be spiritual.

Let me explain that.

Since I am of necessity a naturalist my spirituality has at it’s base, human experience – experiences that define the thoughtful participation of human beings in this world. Otto Rank described what I mean as a sense of awe, wonder, and humility before the “mystery of being.” Freud talked of  an “oceanic feeling … an ego-dissolving sense of eternity”

Since I am a glass half full sort of chap, I am of the opnion that I am a better person because I can make a connection to and share an empathy with other living things. When faced with amazing things like Fibonacci Spirals, the colours in a sunset or the odd things that go on in the quantum mechanics I get hit with a type of stunned silence (which is very odd for me) it makes me want to both speak in hushed, respectful tones and at the same time stand up cheer and applaud!. So part of my spirituality is a sense of something outside of me that is both beautiful and sublime. I do not need to ascribe some transcendental force to experience or explain these feelings.

I would also include emotions like human love and human relationships in general. The birth of my son  showed me that there is nothing in life more important and more worthwhile than protecting and nurturing your children. Similarly it is my experience that sex, family, personal growth, and awareness of human compassion all engender a sense of a beauty and value and a connectedness thats is best described as spiritual.

I paint and importantly the absence of a meaningful religious spiritual experience does not stop me enjoying my creative process neither does it hinder my enjoyment of the creative processes of others. It is the inspiration to expose part of our inner selves with a wider audience that marks this as “spiritual” for me.

My non-religious spirituality calls me to be a better parent, a better husband and a better friend. It calls me to be better and to make the world better, not because a supernatural being wills it of me, but simply because the world would be a better place even if I try just a little bit harder to achieve these goals.

There is nothing above that demands or necessitates a “God.” Many theists chums would say that these point to or somehow emanate from, “God”. Sorry,  “God” is an interpretation you give to the experience, but it is not the experience itself and necessitating the existence and belief in a “God” to make it in some way more valid ,is for me just not necessary.

So my understanding of atheist spirituality simply amounts to the same things that move, inspire all sensitive people, religious or not. It requires only that I exist as a human being in the world and take note of the beauty around me, luxuriate in my relationships with others and then use the inspiration that gives me, to try and make the world even a little bit better. “God” may be behind it all or may not. For my part, at least, I do not find it makes any a single cintilla of difference one way or the other.

Simply put – The world is good. Go make it better.

Patrick O’Rourke died after a long, happy and prosperous life riding on the tail of the Celtic Tiger. His will provided €40,000 for an elaborate funeral.

As the last guests departed the affair, his wife Colleen turned to her oldest and dearest friend. “Ah well, to be sure Paddy would be pleased,” she said.”To be sure you’re right,” replied Mary, who lowered her voice and leaned in close.

“So go on, how much did this really cost?'”
“All of it,” said Colleen. “Forty thousand.”

“Aw No!” Mary exclaimed. “I mean, it was very grand, but €40,000?!!!”
Colleen answered, “The funeral was €6,500. I donated €500 to church. The whiskey, wine and snacks were another €500. The rest went for the Memorial Stone.”

Mary computed quickly. “For the love of God Colleen, €32,500 for a Memorial Stone? How big is it?”

Thanks to my Mate Derek for this true tale of Irish Life

Yes I had a bit of what used be called a RTA (Road Traffic Accident) on Thursday last week @7pm just outside work.Like most crashes it was very painful but any crash you walk away from is a good one!

Basically what happened was I had stopped at a T-junction waiting to turn right onto a main road when a car coming from my left on the main road turned into the road I was coming out of cutting the corner on the apex but discovered that driving on the other carriage way can mean you meet other road users coming in the opposite direction on this occasion the wheel of my Yamaha and my left leg took the brunt of his stupidity. I had been looking up the road to my right so I didn’t even see it happening until I smashed my shoulder into his bonnet and bounced off to end up in a heap on the road. I tried to get up but found my left leg wasn’t going to have any of that nonsese, so I sat down in the middle of the road with a bit of a thump.

I know you will find this hard to believe but I was speechless, it took me a full minute to assemble a collection of suitable expletives in an order that I was happy with. I blame this both on the shock and the fact that there was all this red stuff squirting out of my leg. I am glad to report that once I had bubble sorted my next sentence that I more than made up for the 60 seconds of silence that preceded it. I think an I may have to rely on my witnesses for confirmation of this but I managed a full 5 minutes of tension relieving swearing without repetition, hesitation or deviation.

Whilst one of the witnesses who stopped phoned the ambulance the other phoned the police and within minutes the summoned medical help was at hand and had a “lookie see” at my leg. The paramedic told me  “See that white glistening thing? That is your shin bone! Not a lot of people get a chance to see that you know!”.He thankfully provided me with some Entanox which meant that I was tripping on N2O and adrenaline as they wheeled me and my now splinted leg into the ambulance and off to the local A&E.

Rather worryingly I was placed in a section labelled “Major Cases”, which whilst reassuringly me that my leg was going to be given priority, scared the living shit out of me. The nursing staff sprang into well oiled action and gave me some very nice pain killers in a drip and quite quickly I was offering to lead the department in a couple of choruses of “Four and twenty virgins came down from Inverness”. Unfortunately this is where I made a bit of a “boo boo” 🙁  I was asked for my next of kin and their contact phone number. Needless to say I told them all about my lovely and SO MUCH better, better half Valerie. That was fine … however I may have given them my work number rather than my home number, well morphine can make you a bit odd and I am quite odd to begin with. My mistake became evident as the minutes passed and no sign of my nearest and dearest. My concerns were put on hold when I was whisked off to X-Ray and a very nice radiologist felt that my idea for a “Strictly come Hobbling” competition whilst getting my leg x-rayed was not a good idea. Pictures taken, she me pronounce me “unbroken” … YIPEEE!

Back to A&E where I was moved down from “Majors” to “Minors (but bleeding)” and still no Val Hmmmmmmm… so I stopped a passing nurse and asked if she could see if Val had been contacted.

It was now 9:30pm and the accident had happened around 7pm. Whilst it is not uncommon for me to work late, I usually ping Val a text or a phone call to let her know I will be late. Coleraine A&E has zero cell phone coverage so I was unable to call her from my trolley and more importantly I had not got the squidillion “where are you?” texts and the plethoral of rapidly and increasingly worried answer phone messages from Val.

Being a sensible lassie Val had worked out that something was amiss and had rung work. At 9pm on a Thursday there is no-one in my office so she rang security who made sure she was (a) not alone (my son Niall was home) and (b) she was sitting down and then they told her I had had a crash at 7pm and had been taken to hospital.

Val then had a “moment” when she worked out that no one had rung her to tell her about the accident and this must mean that she would soon get a knock on the door from the police to tell her that I had achieved an unwanted promotion from this life to the next. However common sense prevailed and she rang the hospital just as my nurse was walking in to see if she had been contacted. She reassured Val that I was indeed quite alive and being treated for my injuries and there was nothing to worry about.

Val and Niall arrived just as the Doctor was preparing to stitch me up. Much joy was expressed at my narrow escape and after a bit of a relieved weep Val donned her spectacles so that she could better watch my Doctor give me a local.

I have two large holes in my shin and when he injected the Lignocane into the top hole the anaesthetic came squirting out of the bottom hole. I am not a fan of needles when the pointy end is pointed at bits of me so I was not that keen on watching so I amused my self counting the boxes of sterile gloves and Valerie gave me a full unexpurgated commentary on what was happening.

Duly numbed the Doctor set about digging little bits of bumper and grill out of the wounds. My assertion that it was a black car was born out by the production of black fragments jammed against my shin bone. Even with several litres of lignocane this was an “interesting” experience that having done will NEVER be repeated if i can help it! I have to say that the absence of anyone from CSI disappointed me some what! I would have liked Catherine Willows handy with gloves, luminol and a wee evidence bag,  I would have even settled for Grissom, but not Horatio as his sunglasses skunder my pish! As they were all off solving crimes elsewhere these vital bits of evidence where lost. 🙁

Having removed what seemed like most of the car from my leg, the Doctor set about stitching me up complete with help and advice from Valerie. I have to say that both she and I were impressed with his stitchmanship which was very neat!

As the last knot was tied he asked. “Ok when was your last tetanus booster?”

My heart sank. I connected up my internal USB backup drive and did a quick Full Text Index search

“That would be in…errr.. sometime in the early 1980’s I think” I replied

That sealed my fate, one of my bum cheeks had a date with a wide gauge needle.

And so it was that around 11pm they discharged me with stitches,a bloody sore tetanus jab in the bum, 7 days of antibiotics, instructions of what to do if I came across pus in bed and advice to rest up for the next couple of days and then go see my GP for re-redressing of the wound and eventual stitch removal.

It is Sunday now and I have to say it is still *&^%ing sore! I can only manage a slow hurple around the house, stairs are accompanied by an equal number of “Ouches” to stairs (why did we not by a bungalow!) I haven’t slept particularly well since it happend and I am really really really not in the mood for Police statements and the small forest of insurance forms that orbit RTAs like a red tape rings of Saturn! Also how the hell am I meant to get about whilst the behemoth that is the insurance industry gets its arse in gear and arranges some alternate transport for me? Arse! Arse and thrice Arse! 🙁

Not a good weekend by any stretch of the imagination but one that was made all the easier to bear by the good wishes of our friends and family both local and remote sent on Twitter, Facebook, Text and Phone. To quote our American Cousins, you guys ROCK! You all deserve big hugs and extra portions of pudding 🙂

Thank you so much from me, Val and Niall!

PS – Sorry again to Eileen Fitzgerald for cancelling the dander we had planned for this weekend.

PPS – Special Thanks to Paul Mooney for the offer of alternate transport, you are promoted to “Real Biker” for that 🙂

PPSS if you are interested in the gory details of my leg click below to see a piccie
it actually isn’t that bad looking 🙂