On my Relationship to and with Divinity
It just came to me, while making a somewhat strange breakfast, on a day when saddened by my political differences with people I treasure and a bit by my differences in perspective with my sons on the nature of divinity, my mind started to wander. In that wandering it came to me that I have a somewhat daring and frightening attitude towards the Divine, in fact, a somewhat judgmental attitude which makes me hope that if Divinity exists, it is mature, secure, understanding and very tolerant of opposing views.
I was speculating on my difference with the perception that my sons have concerning religion: they believe they are atheists. In my opinion they are merely agnostics as their attitude towards religion (as I perceive it) is currently shaped by their reverence for science and the scientific method. If Divinity cannot be scientifically demonstrated they will not accept it. Conversely, should it ever be scientifically demonstrable, they would accept it. To me that is very different than a positive belief that Divinity does not exist as the same scientific methods that currently cannot prove the existence of Divinity likewise cannot disprove its existence.
That struck me this morning because I realized that my personal perspective may be more different than I realized and perhaps, reflective of a concept I find disturbing and distasteful, – hubris. I am probably an agnostic with deistic proclivities, albeit in a drastically anti-anthropomorphic, omniversal direction. I hope that the truth involves a concept known as panentheism, i.e., that the Divine body is comprised of all that is but is supplemented by something more, a self-awareness, perhaps even a mind, a spirit and a soul. However, unlike my sons, I’m not certain that were Divinity to someday be scientifically provable I would find myself accepting it. What if I didn’t agree with what it required of me, of us? I don’t expect that would ever be the case, but what if it were? I’m pretty sure that, as in the legend of Lucifer, I’d find myself in rebellion.
That reflects a perhaps exaggerated respect for principles, especially as my life has been a continuing series of demonstrations of personal fallibility. But that, in turn, has been the learning experience which, along with those I love, gives meaning to my life. That is the “me” I know, and the one who sometimes so upsets those I care about. It is also the “me” that those few who love me love.
I have been shaped by two institutions that taught me that the harder right is always a better path than the easier wrong and by the solace in Sigmund Freud’s mystical, temporally challenging concept reflected in the saying, “remember that in darker times their lived a man who thought as you do”. Something that when those I so love and respect find my beliefs, perceptions or attitudes intolerable, gives me hope. Hope that they may someday change their minds, or that I may change mine. After all, I’ve so often changed my mind, and I treasure my willingness to do so as it keeps me sufficiently open to keep on learning.
I very much hope that if there is an ultimate Divinity. He, she, it or they will understand and love me too.
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2011; all rights reserved
 Someone I love but perhaps respect too little responded to my discussions on a social networking site with the suggestion that I “fuck off” and “leave the site”. I declined as, I’m not sure just how one accomplishes a “fuck off” and, the site, not being his, led me to assume that there were at least a few people who shared my views but much more importantly, others who, while not sharing them might be willing to consider them and perhaps derive something positive from them as I do from their divergent views.