I've developed a ritual in recent years. A practice that began when my daughter gifted me a small coffee mug she bought at a thrift shop one Christmas several years ago. The ritual involves cycling through four specific coffee cups each day for my morning cup of coffee before I head to work. The four coffee cups have taken on an almost mythical space in my life. They each are special in their own way and bring to mind a specific cherished memory.

To be clear, I have several mugs of varying shapes and sizes, and they all get used; but these four mugs are set apart. They fulfill a specific purpose and hold a sacred space within my morning ritual.

There's a certain degree of OCPD energy when I regard my collection of four coffee mugs. There are no less than three criteria for a mug to be added into the rotation. Thus far, these four are the only mugs that have met them all.

1. Sentimentality

The first of the criteria needed to be added into the rotation is that the mug needs to bring about a certain memory... such that there is a sentimentality attached to its use.

The blue mug, for instance, was given to me by my daughter this past Father's Day. My parents and brother were with us at the time. We were having breakfast at Calico Cupboard: a local, barn house style... sort of folksy, breakfast eatery. We were waiting for our food to arrive when I opened her gift, which had a very sweet and thoughtful card attached to it. I am gifted the memory of this day whenever I drink from this mug.

The brown one next to it was given to me by my daughter a few Christmas's ago and was actually the first of the four now in the collection. For whatever reason she felt as though it was a mug I would appreciate, and I have. This mug in particular bares a resemblance to mugs I recall my grandparents drinking from at their kitchen table when I was a child. A whole host of memories come to mind when I recall those visits to Grandma and Grandpa's house.

The third mug I picked up at a tea shop in Fort Collins, CO when I was visiting my daughter at Colorado State University. She and I visited the shop for an afternoon tea and it was so nice to spend some time with her and see her in her element.

The final mug — the white one with the blue trim near the rim — was purchased at a thrift shop during a Saturday outing with my daughter. Before she moved away to attend college, she and I would frequently go on weekend adventures. These adventures often involve a trip to a thrift shop to garner a "haul" (a large collection of purchased clothing). On one particular outing of this nature, I happened upon this petite mug. I snagged it. Now, whenever I drink from it, I'm reminded of my thrifting adventures with Molly.

Indeed my daughter is brought to mind with the use of each of these four mugs. It's not the way it has to be, but thus far, these are the mugs which safely mark off the initial qualifier necessary to ensure a spot in my morning coffee mug collection — Sentimentality — and these are the only mugs, thus far, that have marked off the remaining two qualifiers as well.

2. Size

The second of the criteria is size. The mugs in this specific collection need to be a fraction of the size of a regular mug. There are a couple of reasons for this. For one, I can get to the bottom of the cup before the coffee goes cold. For another, I can trick my brain into believing drink 17 cups of coffee in the morning is really not as bad as it sounds, because after all... they're small cups (Now, hear me when I say this: I don't ACTUALLY drink 17 cups of coffee... but the small cup does enter into the mental calculus when determining whether or not I go for one more cup. I always go for one more cup.).

3. The Handle Needs to Fit The Hand

The third and final criteria needed for a mug to be added to my morning coffee mug collection is that the handle needs to perfectly fit my hand. I cannot abide with a mug handle that fits one and a half of my fingers. That type of mild irritation just won't fly. I need it to fit one, two or three of my fingers perfectly... If there's a mug out there that fits four of my fingers perfectly, I'd consider it... It just has to fit, and not just fit, fit perfectly.

So that's it... I wouldn't say I'm constantly on the lookout for mugs to add to my collection, but I do keep the thought in the back of my mind whenever I'm out and about. I love my four mugs and the morning ritual born of that first brown mug my daughter gave me all those years ago. These mugs produce in me a sense of nostalgia and warmth that serves as a boost on days when I don't particularly feel like starting.

(Part 1 can be found here.)

Proof God Exists

Okay, so let's prove God exists, but before we can dive in, we need to first define what it is we're proving. The first step in proving something exists is to clearly and concisely define what it is we're seeking to prove. For example: Hydrogen is an atomic element consisting of a single proton and a single electron. That's the stripped down, bare bones definition of hydrogen as I understand it (Am I wrong here!?! I'm not a scientist!). Now that we have clearly defined what hydrogen is, our next step would be to go out and find an element that consists of a single proton and a single electron. Once we have successfully identified an element that fits that exact criteria, we have indeed confirmed that hydrogen does exist. So to recap, our process might be something along these lines:

1. Clearly define XYZ.
2. Observe XYZ.
3. Verify that XYZ matches all the criteria listed in the definition.

So to prove that "God" exists, we need to come up with a universally agreed upon definition for the term, "God". Such a task is a challenge because, unlike hydrogen, the interpretation of what "God" is varies from region to region, and from individual to individual... but lets give it a go. When I think of God, the three omnis come to mind: omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient. Some might say that God is the creator of all things... that he is causality... you'll note that I used the pronoun "he" just then... many religions assign a gender to their deity; and it is upon this point that I'd like to introduce a quote that I believe rings true when attempting to define God:

To define is to limit. ~ Oscar Wilde

So how do we go about defining something that is supposedly limitless? How do we confine what appears to be unconfinable? I believe I have an answer to that question, and I found it in a fairly well-known piece of scripture. In the biblical text, when Moses speaks to God in the burning bush and Moses asks God, "Who should I say has sent me to the Israelites to lead them out of Egypt?", God replies:

God said to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: 'I AM has sent me to you.' ~ Exodus 3:14

Since I was a young child, I was always a bit confused by this passage. Certainly the text is open to interpretation, but I believe this short passage is a good place to glean the beginnings of a definition for God. Here God refers to Himself as "I AM". What if we used the simple phrase "I AM" as the bare bones definition for God? Considering this, let's now turn our attention to the observable universe. Everything that can be observed, non-verbally says to the observer, "I am." Upon this realization, the definition for God which I have settled on is simply: The sum total of all that exists.

god noun: the sum total of all that exists

I suppose many may balk at the definition, but it's the definition I've settled on. I've gravitated toward this definition for a couple of reasons.

For one, it is unrestrictive. The definition adheres to God's boundless nature. When considering the subject of God, I don't feel a compulsion to place god in a metaphoric "box". For example, there are some who might assign the characteristic, "loving" to the definition of God. Others might rebuke that notion, provide examples to the contrary, and offer their rebukes as not only a refutation of a loving God, but of the existence of God all together. I don't find the "boxing" of God to refute the existence of God very compelling.

Another reason why I gravitate toward this definition is because it provides a clear path towards observation and verification. I don't find ruminating on something that cannot be proven one way or another to be very useful or productive. The contemplation of the existence of a self-conscious, gendered deity might be tempting to some, but I have found the practice to be wholly unfulfilling.

So, having settled on this definition for God, the avenue to proving God exists becomes quite rudimentary. If God is the sum total of all that exists, simply prove that something — anything — exists; and you have, by definition, proven God to exist.

pantheism noun: a doctrine which identifies God with the universe, or regards the universe as a manifestation of God.

Pantheism is the accepted term for what I now believe and simply asserts that God and the universe are one in the same. Everything that exists is a manifestation of the divine.

The Merits of Anatheism

Now we've arrived at the topic of Anatheism. When I first was introduced to the term, I thought it referred to an indifference to God. That sentiment resonated with me, and still does. As it turns out, apatheism is the term used to describe such an an indifference.

apatheism noun: the attitude of apathy toward the existence or non-existence of God(s).

Anatheism, on the other hand, is something a bit different. I've had trouble finding a concise definition for the term, but basically, Anatheism is a return to God after having lost an enamorment with traditional religion, and the traditional God(s) described within those religions.

Having accepted my station in the universe, I'm content to wonder in amazement about the things I not only don't understand, but also — given the feeble, restrictive nature of my own existence — about the things I lack the ability to understand.

There are those who enjoy a magic trick, and then there are those who obsess about how a magic trick is performed. I feel as though I fall into the former category rather than the latter. I do enjoy learning and figuring out how things work, but in regard to the existential reality I currently experience; I consider so much of what I observe to be incomprehensible. Having reasoned much of the reality I encounter to be beyond human thought, I feel obliged to simply experience the wonderment that is human experience.

As such, I believe it a benefit to hold with reverent regard everything with which I come into contact. I don't find fault in attempting to see the divine in everyone and everything.

When I see a rainbow for instance, I don't feel compelled to proselytize the very natural reaction of captivation and amazement into a reasoned, scientific, muted response. In my mind, I know that there's a scientific explanation for rainbows, but rainbows still compel me to smile and delight when I observe the phenomena. The same with sunsets, the smile of a young child, the love a husband has for his wife — even as she fades from the effects of dementia... what a gift to observe and be present for moments like these!

The day I lived today was 13.8 billion years in the making. What a baffling realization... I cannot help but be brought to tears when considering the very real possibility that these past 13.8 billion years were put in place so that I might — on this day — connect with a cherished friend, enjoy the taste of delicious food, feel the oxygen fill my lungs as I take a deep breath, or look up and appreciate the setting sun.

So to recap, I started out a Christian. I considered atheism and decided it was not for me. I Co-opted my Christian faith and made it my own. I embraced apatheism... which, in turn, led me to a pantheistic anatheism. Considering my beliefs regarding God to be fluid, I wonder what will come next for me.

(Part 1 can be found here.)

So I began to live for others... specifically, I began to live for my daughter. She became my driving force... my purpose, and as the shift from a self-focused life to a life focused on another solidified, my own ego dissipated. I began to realize that I was no longer afraid of death. What was death but the end of a life I was no longer devoted to?

I also noticed that I no longer held to a belief in God, not because a faith wasn't present, but because a faith wasn't necessary. I noticed that not only did I not "need" God. I didn't even need an answer to the question, "Is there a God?". The question became small, benign and uninteresting to me. It was a question reserved for those still enslaved to their own ego.

One day I realized that both Atheism and Christianity share the same hook: a plea to human ego. On the one hand you have Christianity which offers the promise of the preservation of ego if you accept Jesus Christ as your own personal Lord and Savior; and on the other hand you have Atheism, which promises to ingratiate the individual with an inflated ego — such that it convinces itself of it's ability to reason all that can be reasoned. In short, Atheism seems the crowning achievement of those who deify their own intellect. Neither of these ideologies now appeals to me, because they both presuppose that the audience is devoted to self-interest, and in my case, the supposition is incorrect.

With regard to the peace I now have access to... there's a stillness about it. When I examine it closely, I notice that it's an acute awareness of the present moment, such that I fully see people in front of me. I notice small, seemingly inconsequential, sensations in my body; and I not only notice them... but they become profound in a way. There's this feeling of being held by the universe... regarded by the universe. A gratitude swells in my soul such that it spills over... sometimes to such an immense degree that I can't help but tear up; for who am I that I should experience such overwhelming regard (love) from the entire universe? Why am I afforded this Nirvana when others suffer so much sorrow and pain?

And you began to notice people... people still stuck devoted to their own ego... and your heart goes out to them because you know that they're afraid to die. You know that they put pressure on themselves to achieve some bullshit dream that the world has told them is worth pursuing: the perfect career, the nice house, the fancy car. A sorrow wells up inside you, because you can see they suffer; and the suffering they experience is causing them not to be in the present, such that they miss the sunset, the warm glance of a stranger, the satisfaction of that first sip of coffee in the morning before work.

Even
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,

"You owe me."

Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky. ~ Hafiz

And you become the love you thought you needed from someone else. You begin to feel your sorrow and despair — not as your own, as you once did — but as that of others. Feeling these sensations is now your super power: you interpret the pain as that of the universe. As such, you seek to alleviate such unpleasantries where you can... so you start to write letters to friends who might be going through something or who are alone. You check in on people you haven't heard from in awhile. You sit with people who are in the midst of pain or loss. You tell those that matter to you, how you feel about them. You show up for people... not for yourself, but for them.

If you let go a little you will have a little peace; if you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace; if you let go completely, you will have complete peace. ~ Ajahn Chah

And you die. The ego that once spurred you on to achieve for yourself dissipates. You begin to take pleasure in other people's successes rather than your own. You shy away from the spotlight so others might be recognized. You view death as a departure from a play, of which you feel fortunate to have played a part. You exit the stage hoping you contributed some benefit... some levity. You're content to sneak out the back door, giving the gaiety of the scene one last glance and grin as you slip away into the night. You don't matter anymore. You've devoted yourself to something bigger... something you perceive to be more important and substantial... something more eternal: everyone else.

Of course you have to still care for yourself, but the priority has changed. You've realized the folly in devoting an entire life to self interest and then dying.

When I was young, I used to always enjoy visiting my grandparent's house in Taccoa, Georgia. That side of the family was always so fun, and when a large group of us got together, I remember the laughter... so much laughter. My grandfather — the patriarch of the "Cabe Clan" — was so silly, but he had a warmth and a tender way about him. When he was with his brothers or his sons and their families, he seemed to be in his element; and the conversations were lively, immensely entertaining affairs. I was young and pretty shy at the time, so I didn't contribute much. I mostly just listened, and felt blessed to be in the room... grinning and laughing at whatever was being discussed.

One aspect of these gatherings that I've been reflecting on recently was my grandmother's contribution. I remember her being an excellent cook and she would make all sorts of delicious food for breakfasts, lunches and dinners. I don't remember her providing much in the way of the conversation, but she was a presence. She had a laugh, a grin... a caring, gentle way about her. Thinking back on my time with her specifically, I remember her being so giving. During any one of these family get togethers, in the midst of the laughter and gaiety, you could look over at Grandma Blonnie — who would most likely be fixing something in the kitchen — and see her chuckling through a wide grin.

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of going on an overnight camping trip with a group of seven other guys. As evening approached I settled in at the picnic table and took to slicing vegetables for the evening's meal. As I worked, the majority of the group — sitting behind me around a campfire — laughed and carried on, and as I worked, I noticed a silent joy wash over me. It was a joy of "being in the room"; I suppose... a joy, not so much of contributing to the conversation, but of being present for it. Reflecting on this experience, I can't help but think that this must have been the joy that my grandmother must have experienced all those years ago. I'm compelled to say that her contribution was the food, but it was so much more than that. It was her giving spirit, her grin, her sweet way, her presence, her love for all of us... I don't think it a stretch to say that if all of us were bricks, she was the mortar that held us all together... and as Hafiz so aptly points out...

"...Look what happens with a love like that, it lights the whole sky."

In my next post I'll make an effort to scientifically prove the existence of God and describe the merits of Anatheism.

(Part 1 can be found here.)

There's this thing that I found a few years back... this feeling of peace. I wouldn't go so far as to claim it as Nirvana, but it is perhaps Nirvana adjacent. I definitely don't go about every moment of every day experiencing total serenity, but I have taken hold of something that I feel is particularly poignant and — through practice — have found it not terribly elusive.

Imagine the complete absence of fear, anxiety and suffering — all the things that might trouble the soul of a human being sort of dissolve and fall away — all that remains is a transcendent peace. I didn't really find it in Atheism, Buddhism, traditional Christianity or any other popular religious or secular worldview. The seeds of my peace began in an often overlooked passage of the Christian Bible, and so I suppose you could argue that my peace originated in Christianity, but I wouldn't necessarily call what I now hold as my peace wholly Christian.

A little background on me: I grew up in a practicing Christian home. We went to church every Sunday and I became a "born again" Christian in my teen years. As I've navigated adulthood, I've moved away from literal interpretations of scripture and, while I derive value from the lessons biblical stories teach, I've given myself the latitude to throw out anything that makes no moral sense (i.e. genocide: [Deuteronomy 7:1-6, Deuteronomy 20:16-17], forcing women to marry their rapist: [Deuteronomy 22:28-29]).

Now, to anyone who hasn't grown up hearing Bible stories, I'm about to take a somewhat deep dive into parts of the Biblical text I grew up learning about. I fully realize that this may be the point at which I lose a large part of my audience, but I feel as though this is all going to make sense in the end for everyone I'm speaking to now — atheist, Christian or anyone in between.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Christian ideology, most Christians hold to the idea that the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus is the source of a Christian's salvation. The narrative being, if you believe that Christ is the Son of God and that he died for your sins (i.e. Took the punishment you deserve for acting in a sinful manner [Romans 6:23].) you become "saved" and Christ will prepare a place in heaven for you so that when you die, your soul will be transported to a place free from suffering (John 14:1-3). This is the tradition I grew up believing.

However, the foundation of the peace I now experience originates in Luke 22:39-44. This is the passage that describes the hours just prior to Jesus' crucifixion. In this story, Jesus and his disciples go to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, and Jesus is in a bad way. He's anxious and afraid of what is to come, because he knows that in a few short hours he will be put to death. Jesus separates himself from his disciples to pray privately and pleads with God the Father to be spared the death he knows is before him. He prays fervently and he receives an answer from God. The answer is "No". The passage states that an angel appears before him to strengthen him, but the answer to his prayer is "No".

There's this "blink and you'll miss it" moment in the story where Jesus shifts his focus off of himself and on to everyone else. When he entered the garden he was focused on himself, and was burdened with fear and anxiety; but when he leaves the garden, he is no longer fixated on himself and what's about to happen to him. Instead, his focus is on everyone around him.

We see this shift in focus as he departs the Garden of Gethsemane. When the centurions come to arrest him, one of Jesus' disciples cuts off one of the centurion's ears with a sword in an effort to protect Jesus. Jesus tells the disciple to stop and heals the centurion (Luke 22:51). At Christ's trial Christ almost appears meek and offers little to no rebuttal in reply to his accusers (Matthew 27:11-26). At his crucifixion, he looks down and sees his mother and advises John, one of his disciples, to care for her when he is gone (John 19:26-27). Jesus shows compassion for the penitent criminal being crucified along side him (Luke 23:39-43), and finally, Jesus prays to God to forgive his murderers even in the midst of his own murder (Luke 23:34). In short, the Jesus that departs the Garden of Gethsemane is almost a completely different person than the Jesus that entered it.

Youth ends when egotism does. Maturity begins when one lives for others.

Hermann Hesse

Over the course of several years, living for others gradually became the "salvation" I gravitated toward... more so than the traditional death, burial and resurrection of Christ. I found that the "hook" to the traditional salvation narrative was ego... or the preservation of it; and that just didn't appeal to me. My existential perception has shifted... My whole orientation toward life has shifted. I now feel like a leaf on a tree: here for but a season and then I'll be gone. While I'm here I can either nourish the tree of which I'm a part — my family, my community, my co-workers, my friends — or I can focus on nourishing myself. I've been intentional in my effort to live for others.

In my next post, I'll describe in greater detail this gradual mind shift that has brought me peace.

There is a bit of a trend I've noticed in recent years. The trend involves belittling Christians for believing in God, and is usually a video of a comedian or an intellectual going into reasons why Christianity is a fools worldview.

While an intellect is on full display, a wisdom is severely lacking. Their arguments against Christianity are not without merit, but a rebuke of Christianity, to my mind, fails to offer up any evidence for the non-existence of a deity. The entire exercise seems a kin to Don Quixote chasing after windmills. If you present an argument against Christianity... your argument is a refutation of Christianity, nothing more.

I'd like to relate to you a metaphor, and from this metaphor I will derive two questions for you. Here's the metaphor: Two grasshoppers stand on an abandoned railroad track in, let's say, Boulder, CO. One grasshopper turns to the other and says, "I don't believe in trains." Simultaneously, there are two microbes up the rectum of one of these grasshoppers. As these microbes are chowing down on particles of grasshopper feces, one of them pauses for a moment, turns to the other and says, "I don't believe in God."

Okay, the two questions I now have for you are as follows...

The first relates to the two grasshoppers:

Does a creative deity have a responsibility to His creation to revisit His created and assure it of His existence?

I'm compelled to answer the question above with a, "No". Looking back at our two grasshoppers — a train leaving Cleveland and headed to Orlando can definitely divert it's planned route, navigate to the abandoned piece of track in Boulder, and prove to the two grasshoppers that trains exist; but is such an action worth the effort? I think any reasonable person would say, "no". Relating this tale to our quandary above — Isn't human ego the only thing compelling us to suggest that a creative deity must be inclined to circle back, to love and adore His creation? To somehow assume that God needs to be known is to project the very human trait of ego on a creative deity. Based on the mere reality I perceive, the assumption is incorrect.

Anyone who yearns for a God to reveal himself to them is a kin to the child in a crib, crying for it's mother. Again, this boils down to human ego. The child is self-focused... this is all an infant knows, really. In it's world, the experiences s/he is feeling are the only experiences that exist... weather it be hunger, or pain, or fear... it's only frame of reference is the self, and so; to the child... the mother's only reason for existing is to resolve the issues it experiences. Ego in perhaps it's purest form.

Now lets turn our attention to the two microbes in our metaphor. Considering these two, let me ask you:

Who among the human race is even remotely qualified to say, "There is no God (or vice versa)" with any degree of authority?

I would argue that there are none, and yet there are several who have taken on the mantle of evangelical atheism — "saving" anyone who will listen from organized religion. To me, the evangelical Christian and the evangelical atheist are two sides of the same coin. Both personalities not only ask the question, "Is there a God", but consider themselves somehow qualified to provide an answer. To my mind, human ego is the only reason someone might seek an answer to the question. Remove human ego from the equation and the question of whether there is a god or not becomes benign and uninteresting... a kin to questions like, "Where is the best place to buy mustard in Perth, Australia?" — perhaps there's an answer, but the question itself isn't interesting enough to pursue an answer (Especially if you live worlds away from Perth as I do!). I honestly don't understand why there aren't more individuals that not only confess that they don't know if there's a god or not, but don't care one way or the other.

I consider myself to be somewhat of a realist, and as such I'm quite comfortable sitting with unanswerable questions. I've found holding on to ideas with an open palm rather than a clinched fist is a much more comfortable place to be. As Marcus Aurelius once wrote:

You always own the option of having no opinion. There is never any need to get worked up or to trouble your soul about things you can't control. These things are not asking to be judged by you. Leave them alone.

~ Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

I'd rather not hold to an opinion about God, simply because my perceived station in the universe relegates me to an intellect unsuited for the subject.

So, having reasoned atheists (all atheists) to have an ego substantially larger than their actual station in the universe, I'm a bit perplexed as to how to respond to such personalities. I don't know that I've ever met an atheist that is not obstinately so. I'm of the opinion that the universe really doesn't care whether we believe in a deity or not. I'm inclined to respond to this ambivalence in kind.

For decades I considered the question, "Is there a god?" to be a ponderance worthy of my time and energy. Having stared at it for so long now, I consider it to be a great place to start on one's own existential journey; but I have found peace in the letting go of the question all together. Atheism and organized religion have been enjoyable musings along my own existential path, but for me, both are decidedly lacking as a final destination.

In my next post, I'll attempt to describe the gradual co-opting of my Christian faith and how I made it my own.

June 24th, 2022... It was a Friday as I recall, and I heard the news from a distraught friend of mine who was both angry and crestfallen: Roe vs. Wade had been overturned. I was sickened and stupefied. I remember sitting motionless in my desk chair at home feeling as though I'd been delt a blow. A little over a year has past between this day and that. I've attempted to collect my thoughts and order them as succinctly as I can. Weeding out the bitterness that I feel isn't useful, I've compiled the following as explanation for why I am pro-choice.

While I can definitely acknowledge the merit in wanting to reduce the number of abortions performed in America, any goodwill I might hold for this cause instantly evaporates when I discover the intended means to arrive at this end. The means matter. When our fingernails get too long do we trim them, or do we cut our hands off?

Demanding agency over another human life is morally wrong. I think that when we rob a person of their bodily autonomy, we rob them of their humanity and inflict upon them severe psychological harm. I fail to see the logic in denying one person’s humanity to acknowledge the humanity of another. Furthermore, I fail to see how we hope to teach a community the value of human life when we are comfortable forcing individuals to act in a manner that may be contrary to their own personal convictions.

Please understand that I do not advocate for abortion, but for the preservation of women to maintain agency over their own lives.

A Plea to the Pro-Life Christian

I’ve said this before, but I think it bears repeating: If you are a pro-life Christian, I’d encourage you to go back and re-read the story of the prodigal son found in Luke 15:11-32. Note that the father, at no point in the story, assumes agency over his son, even as the son follows a path incongruent to what the father might desire. The father doesn’t vilify, chastise, or admonish the son. In fact, the father provides him with the means to live his own life; and in so doing, acknowledges the humanity of his son. When I consider this story, my path forward with regard to the issue of abortion becomes clear: a woman’s bodily autonomy must be preserved.

If we are sincere in our desire to reduce the number of abortions in America, I am wholeheartedly on board; but when the proposed solution to the problem is to assume agency over every pregnant woman in the nation, my brain breaks. I simply cannot perform the mental gymnastics necessary to arrive at this conclusion. I see our society tread a path I cannot follow. I see it cutting its hands off to resolve the issue of long fingernails.

The means matter.

The Practical Argument

Strict Anti-Abortion Laws Do Not Work

From a purely practical view, demanding agency over another person simply does not work. Cutting our feet off to address the issue of long fingernails is perhaps a more appropriate metaphor than the one I first offered, because it more effectively demonstrates the absurdity of the American pro-life movement. A recently released report from the Society of Family Planning found that while states with abortion bans experienced reduced abortion numbers, the national number of legal abortions rose slightly in the year since the overturning of Roe. Additionally, a 2018 study conducted by the Guttmacher Institute concluded that countries with highly restrictive abortion laws have higher rates of abortions than countries with less abortion restrictions.

Furthermore, if history is any indication, demanding agency over large swaths of the population — forcing individuals to act in a manner contrary to their own conscience — results in failure. It didn’t work for slavery. It didn’t work for prohibition. It will not work for abortion.

The Loving, Nurturing Utopia Does Not Exist

One of the more prominent selling points used by pro-lifers for encouraging young women not to get an abortion is the idea that there exists a loving, nurturing community that stands ready to walk along side them with all the support they will need as they enter motherhood. Last November I happened to hear an episode of The Daily (a podcast produced by the New York Times) in which they told the story of how a pro-life activist, Reverend Rob Schenck, and his colleagues infiltrated and influenced members of the US Supreme Court. The report was interesting, but the most poignant moment in the piece, for me, was when Schenck related the moment he realized that he had been in the wrong with regards to the issue of abortion:

I realized, in our movement, we had demanded that women in an unwelcome pregnancy enter our fantasy of an idyllic life where the baby born to you will be loved, will be supported. There will be an army of pro-lifers who will come around her and support her and provide everything from diapers to medical care to child care, and on and on it goes. Well, there is no such reality.

Rob Schenck

There is a very specific circumstance that leads him to change his mind. He orates the realization pretty succinctly. If you get the opportunity, I'd encourage you to go back and listen to the episode.

Unintended Consequences of Overturning Roe

There are five things that I feel are certain to happen in the coming months/years as a result of the overturning of Roe that are unintended, but are important to point out.

One: women will die. Some will just outright commit suicide. They will look out at the landscape of a life devoid of agency and they will simply reason that it is a life not worth living. Some will die attempting to perform an abortion on themselves. Still others will die because they are denied an abortion that is medically necessary.

For those that avoid death, I would not be surprised if the trauma of being forced to surrender their own bodily agency to a government puts women at greater risk of developing significant psychological issues. Issues like passive suicidal ideation, anhedonia, and learned helplessness come to mind.

Two: pro-life individuals will become emboldened to treat women with hostility and disrespect. Violence toward not only women seeking abortion services, but also those who are in the arena of helping these women will no doubt face increased violence. I would not be surprised if some states will depend on citizens to hunt down potential targets in a gestapo-like fashion to insure that pregnant women are robbed of their bodily autonomy. I think it likely that these civilian operatives will also aid in the capture and incarceration of violators. The Texas Heartbeat Act (SB8) seems a decent representation, as it relied upon the efforts of civilians to enforce an abortion ban. Given the gargantuan task of ensuring every pregnant woman carries a fetus to term, I do not see how any such law could be successfully enforced without the employ of thousands of civilian operatives.

Three: Government officials will become emboldened to pry into the private lives of American citizens. A few months ago, 19 red state attorneys general signed a joint letter to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services seeking to obtain private out of state medical records for constituents living in their state, seemingly for the purpose of prosecuting individuals who obtain an abortion in states where the procedure is legal.

Four: I don’t think it hyperbole to imagine an increasingly complex underground develop, not unlike the underground railroad of the 19th century. Seeing forced births as an injustice, members of this underground will work to insure that women seeking an abortion will be connected with providers of the service.

Just recently I discovered that this is already taking place. There is a fascinating episode of The Whole Story With Anderson Cooper in which this underground is described in detail. One of the organizations mentioned in the episode is called Elevated Access. Elevated Access employs the use of single engine aircraft and private pilots to ensure that individuals are transported to locations where they can obtain the healthcare they need.

Five: If you are a pro-lifer, individuals within your sphere of influence will be forced to live inauthentic lives when they are around you. People who seek to maintain agency over their own lives, who you may deeply care about, will reason to themselves that you are not a safe person to confide in; and seek out help from other sources that may not have their best interests at heart. Having reasoned you to be an unsafe person, they may keep other details of their lives, details unrelated to abortion, hidden from you.

I never want to be an unapproachable person. I never want to be a person that instills fear in the heart of someone and causes them to put on a facade when they are around me. How can I possibly hope to help a person in need if I disqualify myself entirely by adopting an attitude of domineering oppression? I feel a deep conviction to allow others to be as true to themselves as they can possibly be. I simply cannot hold to that conviction if I force my will on others.

As our nation forges ahead upon this new path, I've compiled some articles that I think bring the error of the decision to overturn Roe into sharper focus:

• UN denounces decision to overturn Roe v. Wade.
• A 10 year old rape victim is forced to leave Ohio to receive treatment.
• Texas woman forced to endure living with fetal remains in her body for weeks.
• Louisiana woman carrying skull-less fetus forced to travel to New York for an abortion.
• Amanda Zurawski Testifies before Congress after being denied a medically necessary abortion in Texas.

Closing Thoughts

It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows.

Epictetus

As I look back upon what I've written it all makes sense in my own mind, but maybe I'm wrong. Sometimes ego is an obstacle to learning. The issue of abortion is complicated. What do you think? Is my logic in error? Have I failed to consider a key element? I feel as though I know what you might say, but maybe not. I have tried to see both sides of the issue. Perhaps it is the weighing of the two sides that prevented me from speaking out for so long after the Supreme Court ruling.

If you do consider offering a rebuttal to what I have presented here, bear in mind that the task before you is not to convince me that life is sacred. Believing life is sacred is precisely what has led me to the stance I now possess. The task before you is to somehow convince me that forcing women to surrender their bodily autonomy to a government — even if doing so betrays their own conscience — is the best and only recourse with regard to the issue of abortion.

If reducing the number of abortions in the United States is truly the aim, we should look to devise strategies and solutions that both accomplish the end and inflict no harm in the process.