"The summer after I lost my faith, when I first began dreaming of New York, I got into the habit of driving to Lake Michigan alone, to swim. I couldnât yet fathom evolution and natural selection, which seemed to require more faith than the religion Iâd left behind, so even though I could no longer believe in God, I had no good theory about how the world came to be.
In serious limbo, I went repeatedly to the edge of land and walked into the water. Floating until my skin was pruned, I felt my insignificance in the world next to the scale of the great lake and its long beaches, but at the same time, my actual physical connection to every molecule of it. Without knowing it, I was feeling out a new bridge between my life and the universe.
I had begun to suspect that the story Iâd left behind, the religious one, was the more human-centered one, and in its own way, arrogant, assuming as it did that the ways of the universe are like human ways: houses have to have builders, paintings have to have painters, the world must have a maker...........................
...................... But soon Iâll take a train to stand on the edge of the Atlantic, walk into the ocean I fear, and trust it to hold me up. I hope it will be a small kind of prayer for the future, less mystical than pragmatic, to feel in my body what is so hard to fathom: This vast and humbling contingency thatâs made the waters rise is also what makes my life matter, because other creatures â human and otherwise â will live in my wake. What threatens us is also our only comfort: It matters what we do. To swim in the ocean now is to swim into the future and know that we have made it."
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/10/o...n-region&WT.nav=c-column-top-span-region&_r=0
In serious limbo, I went repeatedly to the edge of land and walked into the water. Floating until my skin was pruned, I felt my insignificance in the world next to the scale of the great lake and its long beaches, but at the same time, my actual physical connection to every molecule of it. Without knowing it, I was feeling out a new bridge between my life and the universe.
I had begun to suspect that the story Iâd left behind, the religious one, was the more human-centered one, and in its own way, arrogant, assuming as it did that the ways of the universe are like human ways: houses have to have builders, paintings have to have painters, the world must have a maker...........................
...................... But soon Iâll take a train to stand on the edge of the Atlantic, walk into the ocean I fear, and trust it to hold me up. I hope it will be a small kind of prayer for the future, less mystical than pragmatic, to feel in my body what is so hard to fathom: This vast and humbling contingency thatâs made the waters rise is also what makes my life matter, because other creatures â human and otherwise â will live in my wake. What threatens us is also our only comfort: It matters what we do. To swim in the ocean now is to swim into the future and know that we have made it."
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/10/o...n-region&WT.nav=c-column-top-span-region&_r=0