It’s easier to say I’m pagan than to wade into the tricky waters of saying: I’m not polytheist and couldn’t square the notion of supernatural beings with what I’ve learned of science. Can’t square the soul, either. It seems to me we’re atoms making cells making organs–mostly a brain–and so on. Physical stuff. “This crude matter” as Yoda put it.

That said, I cannot fail to see the beauty and grace inherent in Nature. There is “something” there that speaks to those random assortments of neurons, and they talk back, somehow. The communication is subtle, so subtle, but so meaningful.

I don’t feel lost in the vastness of space. I recognize my atoms were forged in the stars, as was all matter surrounding me. I see a flower and try a reasonable estimate of “shared genes” and don’t get me started on fuzzy/cuddly mammals! I feel lightning storms like some ecstatic discharge of the weather, like the planet having a thought. “Eureka!” BOOM. I’m okay with dying, knowing it doesn’t diminish me, at all. I’ll still be here, in another form–hopefully not locked up in a box barely decomposing–plant my ashes, please.

And I still doubt there is NO magic. I’ve experienced enough and heard enough honest tellings of wondrous things. The conclusions we arrive at might not be true–we lack knowledge–but that doesn’t mean we should box it or dismiss it. Nah, poke at the Beast of the Unknown and see if it stirs!

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