I really enjoy pointing out the amazing part of being, the little things, the butterfly that appears unexpectedly that flutters and passes by, the stars in the sky, an amazing coincidence of happenstance that flutters by. I don’t assign any of that to someone or something, inexplicably, unexpectedly, deciding that this tiny being on an insignificant ball of rock should suddenly command attention. It makes no sense. I prefer the idea that I make my own meaning, and I choose my own destiny. I choose to be a good person, and I choose to be who I want to be. I don’t need a Sky Daddy to tell me to be good. I just am good.
Yeah and that’s perfectly fine. Religion is a story that brings people together through imaginary meaning, to explain the inexplicable, to give duty and purpose when you need one.
Whether your beliefs are manifested in an omnipresent deity, or the balance of karma, or simply the chaos of the universe it doesn’t matter in the end. The self-satisfaction of doing good deeds for others is more motivating if you combine it with the promise of a reward during or after your life. It makes you reflect that not everything in life is in your control, belief and religion stands in as a explanation for yourself. The absence of an explanation is uncomfortable for some, so religion is useful for those. On the flipside it’s also used to excuse heinous acts.