Thursday, September 24, 2015

How an Atheist Goes to Heaven

By Christopher Wilkins 

Note from Author:  This is not a religious article. Although symbols such as God, good, heaven, hell, faith, belief and others which are typically associated with the religion will be used in order to deduce, denote and describe the common concepts, this is not a religious article. This is no more so a religious article than is the Urantia Book a religious text. The Urantia Book is not a religious text and this is not a religious article. We may use terms such as “Atheist” and “Heaven.” So what? Atheism is a commonly held view concerning the concept of God. Heaven is a state of mind. Hell is a state of mind. In our minds is the place where we reside. It´s all inside. Whatever is to come next or not come next will take 

Now, the hell of it is that there is no place like the hell we make for ourselves inside our very own minds. The hells we create in our minds manifest for us in our daily lives. We actually get to live them. These are known as “Living Hells” of which prison is one.

I am coming to you now from the illustrious dibs that are Texas´ Death Row. And I have seen the light. Now, I would like to say that having come to Death Row has had nothing whatsoever to do with my having suddenly seen the light. But that would be ludicrous. Had I not come to Death Row, in Texas, I would surely never have slowed down long enough to ever have recognized anything concerning having seen the light. Anywhere else and I´d have blown right on through. And I know how terribly cliché it is to go to prison and get religion, but this is not a religious article. I did not say that I got religion. I said I have seen the light. Big difference.

Now, you might say: “It´s a little late, buddy,” and to that I´d say: “It´s better late than never.” And I am saying just exactly that. This is such a wonderful opportunity. No, really, notwithstanding the terrible pain and suffering I´ve caused over the course of my life, and notwithstanding the pain I, too, have suffered over the course of my life, it´s great to have finally found peace.

Look at me, look at me, look at me; see what I can do. That´s how it all starts. We´re just these obnoxious little people who want and want some more. Any attention will do. Any attention at all will suffice. Sadly.

My name is Christopher Chubasco Wilkins. There have been some scientific studies conducted and the results are in: children, by and large, tend to grow into their names. You´d think my folks would have known not to name me Chubasco (“wild wind”), but they did. But the aforementioned studies had not been conducted at the time I was named Chubasco. So, we´ll have to let them off the hook. But it´s no wonder I could not sit still with a name like “wild wind.” Who could expect a kid to do anything other than “climb the fucking walls?” Studies or no studies, we´re talking common sense.

Well, mommy got mad as hell at me for not being able to sit still. Not sitting still is a great way to get some attention. “Stop wiggling—sit your ass down somewhere.” “Fucking kid’s climbing the fucking walls.” My favorite: “Don´t move a muscle.” I´ll tell you for true that it´s truly hard not to do. Not like when I´d be told “I don´t want to hear another peep out of you,” and, invariably, I´d say, “Peep,” just to be funny. Of course mommy never seemed to find it amusing whatsoever. But it was most always good for a smack in the mouth or a whack upside the head. A great way to get some attention.

Cool way to get a sip of whisky or a shot of NyQuil or maybe a half a quay of something. Mommy hurt her hands a lot on my hard head. The booze and drugs in moderate doses helped me to “sit down and shut the fuck up.” I liked it, too. Saved mommy from having to continually smite me.

Now, lest you intuit that I´m blaming my poor dear mother for my having ended up here, let´s put all such thoughts as to these accusations to bed right here and now. My mommy dearest did not put me here. No how. No way. For that matter, while we´re at it, let´s put to rest all of the most common excuses: Society did not put me here. Bad luck did not put me here. God, as such, did not put me here. The devil did not make me do it. I accept full responsibility. I admit it. I put myself here. OK. So there you have it, not making excuses. Reasons are reasons, not excuses. Reason exhibits wisdom. In my maturity, experience has changed me. That I recognize the fact that others never get to mature, or got to mature, is of no question. Nor is the fact that I truly appreciate this opportunity…at any rate. I´m not making excuses. Just saying.

In order for one to have woken up in hell one would had to come to hell to begin with. And to begin with, I used to wiggle a lot. I got a lot of attention by wiggling. I don´t think I wiggled to get attention. Surely, I just wiggled because I could not “fucking sit fucking still.” The side effect was that it got me attention.

Quite simple, really. You have a boy called Chubasco, who craves attention and cannot sit still. Not sitting still is wiggling. Gets him attention. Attention is, however, trouble for him. For him, trouble is ever-after associated in his little mind with attention. To get attention Chubasco gets into trouble, which is not so bad when it´s just a smack in the mouth or a whack upside the head. When you´re just a little guy, it´s really no big deal. It´s as one grows, as you might suspect, that, so does the amount of trouble one tends to find oneself in. Next thing you know, you´ve even got yourself a label: “Trouble Maker.”

But, that, that was nothing. No, really. That was no big deal. It really wasn´t. Watch this, and this, see that; now, that´s something there, now ain´t it? But wait. You still ain´t seen nothing yet. And so that´s how these things grow. It´s all so elementary. You´d think that these smart, smart teachers, who are our betters would know about labeling kids. After all, studies have been conducted and the research is in: labeling children and treating children in just such a way causes them to become the epitome of said label. *Phew* It´s almost like they know what they´re doing. Like it´s all a part of some scheme. But you´d think your parents would know not to name their kid Wild Wind, then expect him to be able to sit still. I mean, really? Still, not blaming mommy, or the poor undertrained, underpaid teachers, for Christ´s sake. Just saying next thing you know you might find your ass in increasingly deeper shit. And it´s too late to say, “I´m sorry.” No one cares.

Herein lies our disconnect. It´s the way these things work. We know we´re just these little dummies because our mommies and our teachers tell us so. So we believe it. It´s even cool to see just how dumb we can be. Now, factor in the drugs of every kind. Every kind would include the plethora. A veritable smorgasbord contained in grand-mommy´s medicine cabinet, and that which was obtainable in mommy´s closet. Great stash there. Always the kindest bud. Now, factor in the meth and the coke Tommy´s older sister is turning you on to, and the glue, and now we´re really talking: older girl gives younger boy some attention (abracadabra). Bad boy says: “You ain´t seen n-o-t-h-i-n-g yet.”

To be sure, the shit gets deeper. And I´m not for a minute blaming the girls or the drugs or the Rock-n-Roll music. It´s been a blast. Just saying. Now we´re getting high and getting laid. Who give a damn about anything´s consequences? Not many young men who´re getting high and getting laid. That´s who. So by this age of thirteen we are well on our way.

Alas, some of us somehow snap out of it. We get lucky or wise up, or someone somewhere cares. Some destiny or some fate or something intervenes on our behalf. Or we get scared. But for the most part we lose, because we´re dummies. No matter how smart or clever or slick we think we are, or how intelligent we in fact may be, we are all just a bunch of dummies. All of us: every-single-one-a-dummy. And dummies with bad attitudes make for excellent cannon fodder, that´s for sure.

But the theories I could submit to you about how the powers that be (that´s who “they” always are) breed us all as dummies to be big dummies in order that they (the powers that be) may in fact continue to exhibit and to wield said powers is another subject entirely. We won´t cover it at all here. And besides, you´d be subject to dismiss these theories as “conspiracy” theories, which, in and of itself—is cause for dismissal. They´ve told you so, so it must be true. And besides that you´re subject to ask, why, if I can so clearly see all the conspiratorial threads and threats. Did I not extricate myself there from—and that would be a valid question—but I digress, and all the conspiratorial bullshit aside, it´s not all that difficult to wake up one day in hell. Just look what happened to Kurt Cobain.

Now, you might be saying: “Wait just a doggone minute. Being in prison and being on Death Row are a tad bit different.” And you´d be right at first blush. But hell is hell is hell, no matter which hell we find ourselves in. Prison does not have to be guard towers and razor wire, and electric fences. Any mind will do.

And so now we come to the heart of the matter. And I´ll promise not to get too preachy. I, for one, cannot s-t-a-n-d preachy. And let´s try not to panic whenever I say “God.” Jesus Christ—it´s a concept. Even a construct. Please. And before you say: “Wait just a doggone-mother minute. I do not believe in God,” or, “Don´t you dare blame God,” or, “But I thought you were an atheist?” I´ll just say this: You do not have to believe in or accept God in any way, form or fashion for purposes of this discussion, or ever at all, really. And I´m not even remotely blaming God at all, either. And you´re right, I once was an atheist. But that was before I went to Heaven.

I come to you now from such a place: No longer in hell, but in Heaven. Or “at peace” if you will. And that´s just it. The gist of it. Once the use of free will goes against a natural human instinct—or against “conditioning,” this reveals an unnatural act, or a supernatural event (abracadabra) the light goes on. You are being led, not by the mind, but by the inner spirit. And now we are talking. Now we are getting somewhere.

The problem for me with my atheism was the same problem I had with my Christianity and my Satanism and for that time I studied Kabbalah—and for Odinism, too. I just didn´t believe in any of it. I had no faith in any of it. I wanted to. You can be sure that I tried. It´s all just so “organized” though. Even anarchy has rules (go figure). It´s all so sad. Religion or the lack thereof should be a personal thing. Period. And I know this now. But at the tender age of thirteen in the TYC (Texas Youth Council) I didn´t know my ass from a hole in the ground. “Do what thou will is the whole of the law,” says Satanism, and that was right up my alley.

Now, in the Cy-Fair suburbs we fought. There´s the kickers and the jocks and the stoners, and we fought. We fought because “we” were a stoner, and everyone knows kickers and jocks do not like stoners. But fighting in the suburbs is somewhat different from fighting in the State School in Texas. In the burbs you can quit, or the parents or the teachers show up and stop the fights. In the TYC you cannot quit, and no one is coming to help. In the burbs, you´re fighting because you´re a stoner, or because of some girl who some jock´s pissed at you about. In the TYC you´re fighting not to be a girl, i.e., someone´s “bitch,” which is lots more incentive to fight hard. To fight dirty. And not to quit.

The idea of course is to make such a bold impression on others that they don´t want to mess around at all. There you don´t have to fight so often. But you´ve got to be fighting often in order to get good enough at it to have the luxury of not having to fight; stabbing people is much more efficient. And there´s your disconnect. Nothing we ever learn in the State School translates well to society. Now, we´re all set and truly on the road to perdition. Now, I´ve got this created image. I´m this bad-ass-don´t-fuck-with-me-motherfucker, and I´m stuck. I have to uphold this image. I want to uphold this image. I even enjoy upholding this image. It´s all the power and all the comfort I know. I´m too stupid and too blind to see anything else. For me, there´s no other way. I don´t even want to look for one. I´m all set. I´ve found my calling, and no one cares, least of all, me.

To be fair, the courts are not set up “to care.” They have a job to do. They say: “You´ll learn.” And they´re right. They are absolutely right. We do learn. They TYC taught me to be a killer. In the TYC I had two choices only: “fuck or fight.” I learned to fight. I learned to fight to the finish. You´d be surprised at just what you´re capable of when you´re absolutely afraid. Ack! Not blaming the courts and the TYC. Just saying, sadly, I´ve gone to great lengths and wasted many lives and caused w-a-y too much pain to uphold this sorry ass image.

It´s a damn good thing that I did not lose my ability to reason along the way. Reason exhibits wisdom which in turn exhibits understanding. But I´ll be damned if pride doesn´t argue with all the reason. I´m still working on this. But when reason finally recognizes right and wrong, it exhibits wisdom; when reason chooses between truth and error, it is demonstrating spirit-leading. Thus, the functions of mind, soul and spirit are functionally inter-associated. Reason deals with a choice that contradicts what environment forms is unnatural. Being led by the inner spirit that guides us beyond the limitations of animal instinct and the natural mind is a supernatural event.

It has taken me quite some time to understand that it truly is “never too late” and that the simple art of doing what is right and good to another, no matter where you are, is an act of love. And I know we´ve all got our own ideas about love, and I´ll admit it freaks me out a little bit to be talking about love—images and incidents and egos and all things considered. You might even ask what in the hell a person like me could possibly know from love, and it would be a valid question. Hopefully we can all agree that love would be opposite to hate. Hate would be the desire to do harm to others. All things considered, I think I know from hate. Hate is indicative of fear. Fear breeds hate. Love would therefore be the desire to do good to others, and indicative of not being afraid. This singular desire transcends all secular-, scientific-, religious-, and racial-beliefs. If it is true—love outshines all. I have seen the light.

So, like I said before: the simple act of doing what is right and good to others is an act of love, I do believe. This will necessarily hold true, no matter where we are or who we may be involved with. It´s enough to liberate you from hell. It´s enough to change institutions. It is enough even to change the world. This very missive is a simple act of love. Sharing is love, I do believe.

So now we get to the really nitty-gritty. This is not at all about making excuses or blaming everything and everyone and the whole entire world and even “God” because of and for my own ignorance and stupidity. It´s not even about blaming myself. I do accept the full blame and responsibility for everything, and there is remorse for it all, as well. But this is not about that either. It´s not even about me convincing you that I am a changed man and I´ve seen the light. Your personal opinion of me does not matter in the sense that my peace of mind—my so-called salvation—requires your belief in me. I will accept my fate, my punishment—as it were, my execution…I have. Escaping the death penalty is not what this is about. It´s about escaping our self-imposed hells. Getting on the right track. It´s about love. It´s never too late. There is a way out of whatever prison is. It´s called “being born again,” and it´s simple: wherever we choose to be led by love (our true inner self, spirit), we are reborn in the sense that we are no longer shackled by fear and hate. It´s a whole new state of mind and a whole new life.

And so you see, a good atheist goes to heaven. Though they may confess with their mouth: “no God,” but in their heart of hearts, acts differently. Because “God,” as it were, is love—it all comes down to semantics. Really. Call it what you will, be you secular humanist, agnostics, atheists, or any of the rest of it. When we discover the power of “Love” we´re well on our way.

Yours truly,
Christopher Chubasco Wilkins

I would like to thank the authors Wegner, Camus, Lovaglia; my tireless researcher Reinaldo Dennes; my editors at MB6; and those who conspired to write and bring us the Urantia Book.

Christopher Wilkins 999533
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, TX 77351


Dan said...

Honest, open writing and I sure can relate. I fall into the hard headed category myself.
I feel your pain and your love. It takes what it takes. Goes to prove we all can change.
Thank you for sharing. Dan

Anonymous said...

Thank you so much for sharing this and I hope you will share more on MB6 in the future. I can relate to a lot of your words and they were a breath of fresh air to see here and to read. Escaping our self imposed Hells and no longer being shackled by fear and hate- it really does make living daily feel a bit like brand new skin. One that suits us well, much better than the previous ones we were accepting of until we got in touch with who we really were inside. Hope you keep the writing coming, CCW, Id love that. I couldn't agree more with you. -Dee

Anonymous said...

I appreciate your honesty. Like you, I am not religious. I have a deep relationship with God, but not with religion. I see that you have an execution date very soon. I'm praying you can separate God from man-made religion and find a personal relationship with him. Thank you for sharing your heart.

Anonymous said...

I enjoyed this article very much. You are able to express yourself in an honest, humorous even lighthearted fashion while at the same time describing your change from hate to love. Your explanation of how any mind can be imprisoned was insightful and certainly hit home for me. It is so wonderful to see a person transformed, to know the unconditional love that only God can provide. A very heartwarming story proving that everyone is capable of change. Nan

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Anonymous said...

I can feel u sitting on my left shoulder and I know its ur favorite spot ..Right where u can kick me in the side of my head and whisper what u used to ask me all the time ....."u wanna go kick up some dust" ....I don't miss u brother how can I miss someone that never left and I'm honored by ur presence. I'm glad I put all those tattoos on u cause my artwork right along with u my friend have both transcended the mundane and found true immortality in what I think of as the "legend of a wild wind". So my immortal friend Everytime I see a dust cloud on my horizon I'll look for ur unmistakable trademark grin in the blurry heart of what I'll always think of as the place where your soul can truly bask in what for u was always the most comfortable place....the heart of the chaos. That's ur immortal resting place brother and kicking up dust will never b quite the same again...I will always have nothing but respect for u and when I finally come to the heart of the dust I know I will have a true friend waiting !!!.........VERSAL GOWEN .....