Why I'm Not an Atheist: On Pagan Pantheism

I am neither an atheist nor an agnostic for two main reasons:

I do not respect the Judeo-Christian tradition enough as to define myself in opposition to it.
Human experience is not entirely reducible to the language of scientific investigation.

The Judeo-Christian tradition has pinioned the European spirit for two millennia. Still today, its doctrine of man’s equality before God is deemed a sacrosanct ethical principle, now enunciated in the pseudo-secular ideology of universal rights.

Yet the decree of God the Father violates the law of Mother Nature. Our passive entitlement to ‘dignity’ is a fiction. A man must earn himself pride, must earn himself honor, must earn himself freedom. The world does not owe us anything. Life is a heroic struggle for power,¹ and it is our responsibility to take what we want from it (never forgetting, of course, that giving is the best form of taking). He who truly appreciates nature also appreciates its inherent inequity.

So much for the practical side, which I label ‘paganism’ to honor my European forbears.

Metaphysically, atheism and agnosticism exaggerate the primacy of rational thought and thereby desacralize the world. But the world we experience as human beings is profoundly sacred, religious, and mystical. If we want to exhaust the totality of our deepest human aspirations, we must not suppress our metaphysical needs, must not belittle our spiritual dimension, must not sterilize our experience of the sacred. Rather, we shall strive for a balance between logos and mythos, between scientifically examining nature and being spiritually overwhelmed with it. Wait, a balance? May it be a merging, a synthesis!

When I see the moon shining augustly in the night sky, I see the sacred. When I smell the trees’ glory in the autumn forest, I smell the sacred. When I hear two cats fighting in a violent play, I hear the sacred. When I feel a woman orgasming in twitching delight, I feel the sacred. Such is my religious connection to the soul of the world, and my scientific understanding of lunar phases, forestry, animal behavior, and female sexuality feeds into that connection.

The divinity of Nature, which a mindful spirit can spot in all that exists, is what I call ‘pantheism’.

In conclusion, my religion is pagan pantheism.

Here is how I practice it: I worship Balder by turning my light of attention to the eternity of Now. I worship Freya by opening my heart to all that lives in my presence. I worship Tyr by disciplining my will to align it with the True Will. I worship Thor by strengthening my body in the temple of iron. I worship Odin by pursuing knowledge. I worship Jord by chanting to her—through her—in the woods.

Every action, every stirring of Will that says ‘Yes’ to life praises God as Nature.