This is a comment on a WordPress blog post I was unable to post for apparently technical reasons.

I was ruined for spirituality/religion by being raised a Southern Baptist, the human slavery loving bunch- it’s in the Bible- in the 50s and 60s in South Alabama.

It was so boring sitting in those hard pews listening to a hypocrite in an ugly suit with a bad haircut droning on about sky God.

Baptists like ugly churches and say you don’t even need a church, just read your King James Bible. So I did. And what a vicious, jealous, violent old man he was, telling his cultists to smite them all then take their women, lands and cattle and leave not a man alive. Exactly like modern Israel.

So I’m agnostic toward any god but especially to sky god, who hates women and hates thought more. Here’s all you need to live your life according to primitive tribespeople from the unHoly Land 2k years ago.

The writings were all plagiarized from earlier human sacrifice cults- see Abraham and Issac- then rewritten over the centuries to maintain the hegemony of men and the ruling priest class

So to me organized religion is the enemy, a tool for maintaining the autocratic authoritarian power structure of today- see the overwhelming Christian murderous, traitorous Trumpite cult regime.

It seems to me that sex and touch and love and art should be practiced. Not fawning to imaginary sky gods who hate all that in favor of maintaining the repressive power of the religious cultic power structure.

I’ve seen the hand of God nowhere in my long life: no miracles, no angels, no heavenly hosts singing hosannas toward God in their sniveling, begging, sycophantic fashion. Yet people I believe and trust have, so a higher power cannot be ruled out.

And while not a scientist, I still need proof or at least evidence to believe a thing and the absence of evidence for sky God is telling. Yet He could exist, it’s a big universe.

I lean towards the older, wiser, kinder animist idea that every particle in existence participates in consciousness and life: supernovas, suns and planets, feldspars and granites, viruses and neutrinos, all move in sympathy and have their yearnings and drives.

The closest crippled me can come to spirituality is playing primitive 12‐bar, I‐IV-V blues on my sublime Warwick bass guitar. My old age musical ‘art’ is my only relationship with the divine.

Why music is so compelling to human animals and the other animals and to me is a mystery. But I’ve got to have it every day. That I got to find the miracle of musical art at age 67 is the closest I’ve come to evidence of God. Maybe it’s enough.

Thanks for liking and subscribing to my wildly unpopular blog. Good luck with yours, you have obvious writing talent

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