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Dancing Molecules: An Atheist Moment of Transcendence

Waltzing1I had this little “atheist/ naturalist moment of transcendence” recently, and I thought I should try to write a little bit about it. I’ve been realizing that I spend a fair amount of my time as an atheist writer talking about what I don’t believe in — why I don’t believe in religion, why it often pisses me off, etc. I’m generally very much okay with that; in fact, I think it’s completely appropriate for the early stages of a social movement.

But I want to start talking a little more about what I do believe in. I want to share the positive side, too. This moment last weekend was a classic one, and I wanted to write about it.

Ecd4I was at a wedding last weekend, a wedding of friends in the dance community that I’m part of, at which there was oodles of dancing. (This picture is from our own wedding, btw, as we didn’t take any pictures at our friends’.) I was dancing in a particularly good set, with a particularly good partner, doing a dance I’m particularly fond of, and I was getting that special transcendent brain/body fusion that I only ever get from dancing…

…and I was suddenly filled with this sense of wonder and awe — that out of atoms and molecules, here we were managing to create the experience of joy.

1st_waltz_1To me, the idea that consciousness and emotion and experiences like ecstasy and joy are physical, biological phenomena — it doesn’t diminish these experiences. On the contrary. It makes them more amazing, more awe-inspiring. We are made up of essentially the same stuff as rocks and water and dirt and stars… and yet, out of this stuff, out of these atoms and molecules, we can be aware of ourselves, and of one another, and of the world around us. And we can shape that awareness, and create experiences that bring joy and delight to ourselves and one another. We can make vows to stick together for better or for worse… and we can dance for hours celebrating those vows, using our bones and nerves and muscles to generate connection and meaning, transcendence and joy.

That is just fucking awesome.

Fetus_da_vinciMaybe we’ll understand consciousness someday. Maybe we won’t. But even if we do, I don’t think that understanding will have to diminish our sense of wonder and awe about it. After all, we pretty much understand how human reproduction works (although many details are still being filled in); and yet the fact that soon, a new person is going to become part of our family (my sister-in-law Cynthia is pregnant), a person who didn’t exist a year ago but who right now is in the process of coming into existence… I’m still struck dumb at how totally fucking cool that is. It’s a physical, biological phenomenon, and yet it almost overwhelms me at times with how freakishly miraculous it is. She’ll be a whole new person, with her own consciousness — and she’ll have her very own capacity to experience joy, and to bring it to others.

Sunrise_apolloFormed out of the molecules of the earth, and the heat and light of the sun.

It just blows me away.

SunriseP.S. If you want to see some more writing about the positive experiences of being an atheist, I encourage you to check out the new Humanist Symposium at Daylight Atheism. It’s a carnival of positive atheist blogging, a roundup of blog posts that “celebrate the virtues of atheism and promote the philosophy of humanism as a beneficial, attainable way of life.” The host was kind enough to include my Why Are We Here? One Agnostic’s Half-Baked Philosophy piece in the inaugural edition — and I’m feeling very much honored, as I’m in excellent company. This is a seriously cool carnival, and anyone who wants to see some beautiful, thoughtful, positive atheist philosophies of life is strongly encouraged to check it out.

Comments

  1. Chris S says

    I have experience the same type of joy and wonder and dancing and consciousness myself

  2. Mike P says

    It really is amazing. Especially when you think that all the heavier elements in our body were once part of a supernova somewhere and that the only reason we are complex is because of the mechanism of natural selection. It really is hard to get my mind around sometimes

  3. says

    I absolutely agree with you, Christina! I’m a life long atheist but, with parents who began practicing Zen Buddhism in 1969, I understood that “joy,” “happiness,” “peace,” “love” were all states of being that were attainable through meditation. In Zen that meditation is zaaen, or “sitting meditation,” and I early on used dance of all kinds for that purpose.
    When I got older I found Betty Dodson’s book and began using sexual energy as my “way in” to myself and, like you, found that ecstacy, joy, love, abundance, etc., were physiologic states that could be accessed through many doors: fasting; meditation; self-flagilation; twirling (as in Sufism); psychoactive drugs; chanting; drumming; dancing; prayer; singing and, most universally, sexual pleasure and orgasm.
    No wonder the powers that be want to keep little children from touching their genitals! We’d all see that we can talk to god anytime we want to, simply by touching our vulvas and penises, breathing deeply and paying attention to what feels good. Too easy.
    These feelings eminate from our mid-brains and the limbic system. They have no words or images associated with them, they simply are. It’s our pesky forebrains that must label every sensation and thought that comes through. So religiously indoctrinated people would lable it “god,” and I would lable it “good.”
    All these people seeking god, when he or she is at the end of our arms and the junction of our legs, there for the knowing.
    And that’s why religion spends so much time obsessing on sex and sex pleasure-they need to keep up the lie that the average person needs an intermediary between him and god, and the priest class is that go-between. If more people found joy on their own, the church might go out of business.
    Hmm, it’s an idea . . . .

  4. says

    I get these transcendent experiences often. However, I envy your ability to remember them. Usually, the feeling passes, I think “I must remember that”, and then I don’t.

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