artReligious people claim that atheism is arid, lacks awe, poetry, inspiration. I reject this totally. I find awe in the universe - nebulae of galazies billions of light-years across, billions of miles away from us. I find inspiration in the thought that I am the descendent of billions of generations of successful individuals, right back to the primordial slime, who have all been able to survive the ruthless process of natural selection to hand their genes on at last to me (I feel slightly guilty that I have chosen to be the end of that magnificent chain.) I find poetry in my roses, in the trees I can see from my window as I type, in the peacocks which occasionally stroll down my street on furlough from the zoo across the road.
This is an invitation to share what insipires you.
Stepping outside on a gorgeous sunny morning. Whether snowy or summery, fall or spring, with the warmth of the sun on your face, and the vast great blue sky above, the world is alive with possibility. It makes you happy just to be here.
I get inspired by real things, without the need for some sky daddy figure. Science, nature, good books, good music, good food, my baby daughter, my friends, my wife. All real, all inspiring in their own way.
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