Tag Archives: personal

Hypotheses on the underpinnings of my divine experiences

I’m an odd activist, trying to tell my own story in two worlds which largely don’t accept people like me: the world of religion and the world of secularism. That’s why I jump to answer writing prompts which I feel apply to me in any way. I feel guilty, like I might be speaking over people for whom the opportunity is meant, though if that’s the case I’ll likely be dismissed. That’s not a bad thing; at least I get an opportunity to put words to my experiences.

Today’s writing prompt comes courtesy of Recovering From Religion:

Hello, my name is Arda, and gods talk to me all the time. I’m also a secularist and an ex-fundie Christian. I currently identify as a nondenominational polygnostic. With that out of the way…

I’m sorry, this is tricky. I still don’t know if I qualify for the question. You see, I don’t “believe” that gods speak to me. I’m a non-believer who experiences gods in ways that people have experienced gods throughout the ages. I sense divine presences in places, in inanimate objects, and in fictional characters. I experience gods as subtle forms who interact with me, speak with me, and present visions. Sometimes they set up elaborate events in the physical world to teach me important lessons. However, all of this is part of my personal gnosis— my personal understanding of the divine as it relates to me and my own life. This isn’t something I would put forward as objective truth, or natural law; my personal gnosis is there to contribute meaning to my life and to help me to understand myself, my art, and my purpose, by giving me new perspectives on everyday matters. When other people are involved I mostly turn to secular ethics to inform my actions, save for minor influences from my personal gnosis, like considering the gift of a good meal a sacred act.

Still, confounded framing aside, in my paradigm gods speak to me. So let’s focus on that point, because it interests me greatly as a rational person. What makes the subtle experiences of my gods stand out? Why is it that when my cherished divinity speaks to me the words take on a characteristic that feels so *beyond me*?

I’m not schizophrenic. I don’t have trouble relating to reality from moment to moment. I don’t suffer from delusions. The things that my gods say to me seem sensible. So, I know that this isn’t the result of mental illness. In When God Talks Back, anthropologist Tanya Luhrmann explains at length that people who hear God speak to them, in the ways that I hear my gods speak to me, aren’t mentally ill. My experiences are also not all that uncommon. In many pagan circles it’s accepted that people have what’s referred to as a “godphone”.

Alright, so much for this being the result of mental illness or my being an outlier. Back to the main question: what do I think is going on?

I have some hypotheses here: first, my innate discernment, my sense the divine that I get from certain fictional characters, places, or things — statues, my tarot cards (sometimes), good meals — is the same sense that makes certain profound thoughts, or thoughts with certain characteristics, seem like the work of a great god. The thoughts in question also happen to be directed at me, and they usually have a conversational “tone” about them while they give sound, helpful, and enlivening advice. I don’t know why the sense of discernment seems to activate at the same time that one of these thoughts arises, though. It’s as though an “important message incoming” notice precedes the event, and my whole body takes notice. All of my muscles relax ever so slightly and I become more attentive. Maybe the relaxation makes the depth of such thoughts possible in the first place. Maybe it’s all a cycle that works to make these experiences happen, that makes them profound in the first place and recognized as divine in nature afterward.

A related hypothesis, and one I feel important to disclose here, is that this whole divinity thing may be so compelling to me because the phenomenon of divinity may be inherently related to moral being, personal morals in particular. Studies show that people perceive numinous beings like gods as being particularly concerned with morality, and that monotheists align their God’s morality with their own sense of morality. Combine this with the fact that morality is closely entwined with people’s sense of self, and it’s easy to understand why theists place a great deal of importance on their gods, the nature of their gods, and their relationships to their gods. My own sense of what is divine is very closely related with what I consider to be chief goodness, or that which is of utmost importance to me. While my gods feel like they’re astounding beings beyond me in ability and wisdom, they may in fact be more myself than I am, if that makes sense.

Because I am objectively agnostic, I don’t claim to know that my experiences *aren’t* caused by gods who exist in some form in the natural world, but I also don’t claim that they are. I identify them as divine because it helps me to understand myself more than anything. To me the question, “What are your gods *really*?” is akin to the question, “What is your gender *really*?” or, “What is your love *really*?” I could know all of the biological underpinnings for the phenomena, but it wouldn’t change what I call it or how I relate to it.

It ain’t easy being a secular theist sometimes

So I was looking through emails, trying to find a link, when I came across this email which I sent to a correspondent in a fit of anger. I’m making it public because it gives a good amount of insight into who I am as a theistically inclined person, and it also illustrates how frustrating it can be to try to be myself among both theists and atheists, many of whom think that my being myself poses a threat to them and to the world.

It’s been edited to omit personal information and to utilize some of my more current conceptualizations:

Here’s the thing: I honestly cannot tell you how relieved I was when, as an adult, I realized that I could legitimately call my gods what they were to me: gods. There was no other word to describe what they were, even from the time I was young. They found me in nature and in stories, and I’d wanted to call them gods even then. I was stifled from doing so, for years and years, and I honestly think that inability and denial led to a lot of confusion and a lot of bad choices.
 
When I finally began to treat them as gods things began to clear up. You’re probably familiar with the idea of personal gods, so it’s going to be no surprise to hear that these gods spoke to me. I would talk; they would talk back. They would say amazing things which helped me to understand myself. I don’t know why, but seeing myself in them, interacting with them, and striving to delve into their mystery turned night into day. I grew as an artist, as a creator, and as a person, like I’d never before grown.
 
It was life-changing. It was illuminating.
 
And then, imagine my surprise when I began to look at the literature on the subject of divinities through the ages, and saw that what I was doing was probably such a natural thing for people to do…  It seems like people always had this inclination— to relate to aspects of life by way of divinities. And so much baggage has been attached to it, which is understandable. The experiences are so powerful, and people have always wanted certainty, so of course they’ve attached unnecessary objective value to them. But without all of that it’s one of the easiest and most innocent things in the world to do, this whole experiencing and relating to the world through divinities thing, at least for me. For me it made all the difference.
 
I have gods. I’ve always had them. Even before I understood what religion was I had them. Even after I left religion I had them. This is me. This is natural. I’m not anti-scientific. I’m not claiming absolute knowledge or anything. I’m just being myself.
 
But I can’t be myself in rational circles without being subjected to some of the most infuriating dogma that completely invalidates me. People don’t need divinity? People who turn to divinity are unscientific or stupid? Divinity has to be something that runs counter to science? Divinity is just something invented by societies? Divinity is just something that people “believe in”?
 
Where the hell do these so-called scientists get off anyway???
 
I’ve barely scratched the surface with regard to this moronic bullshit and I’ve already had it. I want to put forth my ideas about personal divinities, and the evidence that experiencing such things is probably natural, and such experiences don’t have objective implications sure but goddamn are they ever helpful. I want to do all of this. I’ve spent decades trying to figure this out.
 
What I really want is help. I want more allies who get this, and I don’t know where to look. I’m hoping you do. I’m hoping that I can find more people who understand, so that I can try to hone my views without having to deal with being treated like a child by supposedly curious scientists.
 
And so that I don’t have to swallow people pushing absolute divinity.
 
I’m just feeling very isolated and angry…

Chemical pathways

Psychiatric medication has saved my mind on several occasions now. I’ve been dependent on only a handful of such medications throughout my life; for the most part I’ve been wholly grateful for the experiences I’ve been able to have thanks to those medications.

When I began posting here I was suffering from withdrawal effects of a particular medication, the same medication that had given me the great gifts of the ideas I’ve been expressing here: the idea of personal gnosis being a natural and possibly essential aspect of so many people’s lives, the idea of forming an outlook based on that observation, and the idea of expanding the way people think about thinking about gods and the divine. The same medication that had given me these and other insights, that had facilitated the pathway connections to give birth to so many ideas, had also afflicted me with bipolar disorder once the spell of severe depression, which initially led to its prescription, receded.

It took an entire year for the withdrawal effects to wind down, for the bipolar disorder to fade, and for me to finally touch what I believe to be emotional solid ground. It’s not without its slopes and pitfalls, but all in all the terrain is far more stable, and uninteresting. That’s a good thing.

I’m glad that I did not put off expressing my views, even though some of my writing here has been very emotionally charged, reactionary, and unrefined. I needed a place to begin, and I created that place.

Hopefully it all only gets better from here.