I don't believe in god or a higher power. I don't believe in heaven or hell. I believe that this life is all there is and that what we do with these precious moments is what actually counts. I don't have an unfilled void in my life, and aside from the normal stresses of living life, I'm not unhappy. I have suffered through grief and loss and financial uncertainty. I continue to battle chronic pain on a daily basis. I deal with occasional bouts of loneliness. And yet...yet here I am, alive and healthy and employed. I have such joy in my existence--there is no existential crisis, no void, no darkness.
(There is light and joy and happiness in life without religion, redemption, or resurrection.)
I guess I'm surprised when people react to me with quick and personal attacks about how my convictions are absurd. It's a common misperception, I suppose, that lack of god equals lack of life purpose. I once thought the same. It wasn't until I accepted my lack of belief in the religious dogma of my childhood that I found happiness and purpose in my life. Everyone is free to their own opinions about their own beliefs, but projecting them onto another person isn't quite fair. Because you think you might find your life lacking in some aspect if you don't believe in god does not presuppose that everyone else would feel the same.
(There should be no murmurings of my life in denial with accompanying thoughts of sadness.)
The most interesting outcome of all this is that I'm really not easily offended anymore. I suppose I expect other people to be the same way: don't expect me coddle you simply because what I do (or don't) believe doesn't match your convictions. I'm much more willing to chat about thingsnow than I was before, because I'm not afraid to change my mind if necessary, I'm not afraid to be wrong. So if I ask a question, I'm not attacking you: I'm curious. If the answer isn't satisfactory, I might ask you another one or point out an assumption or logical flaw. It's still not an attack: think of it as an investigation into thought patterns. Again: I'm a librarian who specializes in organizing data and works as an analyst. It's kind of just who I am.