Since losing my religion, I’ve noticed that my extreme emotions, especially on the joy/elation/happiness side of things have mostly gone away, or at least really hard to replicate, unlike when I was masked by that rigidity in my mind.  I’ve been musing about why that is and whether or not the feelings I felt back then were really true or not.
Let’s be clear here; when I say something about “losing my religion”, I am speaking specifically of that dogmatic, biased, conservative film that was placed over my life and mind for so many years of my life.   I speak not of belief, which is unconnected with this (and which I’ve retained, just in a different form.)  Until I entered my college years, I was as much of your typical Bible-banger as the next and if I was still in that state I’d probably think that the sun shines out of McCain and Palin’s ass as much as the next Republican fundamentalist whacko. Fortunately, that’s not the case.
Losing all that was a long process that I’m not entirely sure I am finished with.  The first formative years were very hard; like a harsh solvent contacting an old portrait, logic, critical thinking, doubt, and speculation cut through the years of the caked-on paint of religious indoctrination, something supplied by my parents, my church, and many of my activities, including summer church camp.  Finding myself dropped into a vat of searing new ideas, I screamed.   The removal process was painful, confusing, and incredibly depressing.   But as the old grime came away, I discovered that the restoration process was, in fact, a good thing.
I emerged from the living hell as a better person, both mentally and emotionally.  Now I am left mostly with whatever is left — a more truer me, a justifyable credo, and a newfound appreciation for everything outside of myself.   I am significantly less in substance due to eliminating a large amount of my history, but I’m more real.   However, somewhere along the way, I lost my profound emotions.
I do not know if you, dear reader, have ever been involved in the extreme psychological experiences that the various acts and rituals of religions can impose upon a person, but most of my highest highs derived directly from my experience with the church.    Singing just the right hymn in the right context used to bring me to tears; hearing trumpets on Easter morning had me leaping for joy; the slam of the book at the end of Good Friday service sent chills down my spine; Christmas Eve was full of warmth and happiness; joining arms with fellow church campers and singing praises to a song played by guitar while staring at a mirror-encrusted cross in spotlights made me weep uncontrollably with joy.
I sincerely doubt you’d get me to react that way anymore in the same situation.  But I think I’m ok with that.
I muse at these reactions that I used to have and their place in my life at that time, but then I also think of them in the context of what I know and believe now, and how they are so misplaced and misguided, they almost make me sick to think about it.   How could I have let myself get carried away like that?  It’s not only illogical, but is fully within the corruptive, rapturous behaviors that let groups of people whip themselves into a religious frenzy and do all sorts of crazy things devoid of thinking.
I think one of the greatest dangers of organized religion (amongst many others) is its ability to tap directly into that part of our brains which controls our unhindered emotional states and to trigger those extremes through use of a directed fantasy painted ontop of a base of suspended logic and glued together with dogmatic rituals and rites.  As we well know, emotional rollercoasters end up being very addicting, even those not enhanced by drugs or alcohol.  Some people live for the rushes, even if they come naturally.  Get enough religion under your belt and you have a constant source of high that doesn’t involve tying off and slapping your forearm or rolling up a roach.  How convenient.
Don’t get me wrong — I still have moments of extreme feelings in one direction or another, so it’s not like I’ve become a completely vapid creature.  Rather, many of the things that wind people up simply don’t affect me because I’m rationalizing my reaction.  Certain things still get me, however; particular performances of music, my wife, my son, specific writings, certain songs, some movies, the occasional commercial, etc.  I don’t know if these are illogical throwbacks and/or failings of my ability to intellectually handle all aspects of my life, or if they are expressions of my desire to, on ocassion, suspend my own reality in favor of another.  And on a moderate basis, I think that’s perfectly natural.
The question is, am I alone in my experiences?  Do the people who have religion automatically have a greater emotional range within them due to those extremes, or do they exist outside of the realm of belief?  Have I, by insisting that my life be directed by intelligent, rational, and calculated thought and conclusions, automatically excluded myself from ever truly achieving such profound emotional experiences?   It seems that the only way to truly reach those states is to suspend or deny reality so that they can be reached without the hindrances of thinking.
What of joy, oh heart? Oh death, where is thy elation?
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