Let me begin by discussing a phrase that's popular with my generation: When asked what they believe, people often respond, "Oh, I'm spiritual but not religious." I said this once, without really thinking much of it, to a good friend of mine to (who happens to be religious) when she asked me about my beliefs. I was quite surprised to get a response along these lines: "Chris, please don't tell me you're just another cliche!"
I was quite taken aback (and thought this was a little rude), and muttered something back in my usual, flustered1 way whenever I'm surprised. It's been a moment that's stuck with me for 2.5 years now, for a while because I thought it was a moment of uncharacteristic unpleasantness from an otherwise good friend. Lately however, as I've been thinking about this blog, I've realized that the reason I haven't forgotten this exchange is part of me thinks she's right - that is a rather cliched answer.
It's not that I think there's anything wrong with being spiritual without religion, but the problem is that this is given as an answer when it answers nothing. It's a short, accessible, and generic meme2 for a very personal question. Were I in her shoes, my current self would have asked this earlier version of me, "OK, but what do you believe?" And here is how I might respond if asked that today.
I have three isms which make up my foundational beliefs: humanism, skepticism3, and symbolism. Let's look at each of these in turn.
Humanism: in its simplest terms, this is simply a belief in the value of human life and dignity. Everything about humans fascinates me - human interactions, achievements, intelligence, love, social organizations, and even just the experience of being human. This is a highly biased position to take - I am, after all, human myself. This does not mean I approve of everything humans do - for instance, groups are often very quick to "de-humanize" other groups, and use this to justify war, violence, and genocide. I do find the psychological mechanisms by which we are able to do so fascinating, but the actions themselves, which deny the human nature of the "Other", misguided and appalling.
Skepticism: this is an attitude of doubt or caution when assembling new knowledge. This includes "strong skepticism", which is the denial that we can know anything about reality at all. While we must be able to entertain this point of view if necessary (bearing resemblance to the the position of "philosophical absurdity"), practically it is very unsatisfying and epistemologically it is a dead-end. I therefore often entertain the empirical assumption (the idea that our senses are valuable methods of discovering truth, and are sometimes correct) again because I am strongly biased for it. Taken together, this means that I try my best to make the strength of my belief in the trueness or falseness of some proposition proportionate to the evidence I have for my position.
Notice a consequence of this: I do not believe Humanism or Skepticism or Empiricism themselves to be true. I pull either Skepticism or Empiricism to truth-hood by pulling them up by their bootstraps (aka circular logic). Similarly, no amount of evidence can ever support the claims "Mustard is objectively delicious" or "Humans are objectively valuable." I can make persuasive arguments - describe the tastes of mustard and occasions for use, or argue that Humanism is a natural philosophical extension of human empathy - but these cannot be 100% logically satisfying for a consistent4 yet resistant opponent.
Symbolism: my favourite, since this is, as far as I'm aware, my own personal philosophy, and not one already established. At some point in our development, the human species gained an unprecedented ability - the ability to communicate using the abstraction of language. We developed other abstractions - logic, mathematics, scientific theory yes, but also art, literature, and music. We are creative analogy makers, over-active pattern recognizers. It is not simply that we draw truth from our senses - we are able to generalize, notice patterns, and make predictions. These abstractions let us touch the infinite, the eternal, the total. Our ability to contemplate these through the use of abstraction is transcendental, and is (bringing us back to my original answer, those years ago) the source of my spiritual feeling.
Throughout our history, we have looked to some higher power - religious, familiar, social, etc - to give our lives meaning, but it is always our own self which crafts this meaning. I believe that this ability of abstraction lead us to contemplate our own death, and the anxiety this caused prompted proto-religious feelings of identifying your own self somehow with something eternal. But I do not think this is the only response - mine, for instance, is the realization that I am just bits of the universe, expressing itself as a human for a while, and the values I hold and the meaning I give to my life are human, tempered with respect for and interest in that which I am a small part of, and filled with awe about what we know, what we do not yet know, and what we can never know.
This is how I am spiritual without religion.
1: I'm often not nearly as eloquent "live" as I am "rehearsed", like these blog posts.
2: I have a theory about memes and thoughts. Briefly, the effects of the former on the latter can be both good and bad, and this would be an example of bad.
3: So why not "Symbols for Skeptical Humanism"? I wanted to emphasize my non-religiosity and my belief that magical thinking has negative consequences. Plus, I wasn't sure if it would come across that I was skeptical of humanism, which is not what I mean.
4: It's a different matter if you present a perfectly logical syllogism, but your opponent fails to grasp the logic of your argument, or denies logic altogether. Either of these would make the individual rationally inconsistent.
5: Don't think this is the only form of communication - many mamals, like dogs, have "body language" just like us.
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