What is "The Mortal Atheist?"

When my friends discovered I was starting a blog, most assumed it would be general musings about my life. In the past I had blogged about my backpacking adventures and I write articles about my life for other websites as well. Most were not prepared for “actually, this blog is going to be about mortality and death.”

Cue record scratch.

Just before ‘the great quarantine’ began in March of 2020, I was finishing up “The Five Invitations” by Frank Ostaseski. There’s no explanation for why I was suddenly so curious about death, or why it had been on my mind (although COVID seems a probable prompt), but I’d borrowed a stack of books from the library on mortality and meaning. While loved ones politely tolerated my discourse on these books, it was clear that everyone was extremely uncomfortable. Death and mortality and possible meaninglessness are things we try very hard not to think or talk about, and I was violating this unspoken agreement. (“hey, would you all like to discuss existential terror and the black abyss of death with me?” No, they didn’t).

Of course, my friends and family not wanting to discuss these topics didn’t stop me thinking about them. I wondered how to deal with existential dread as an atheist, what dying would be like, and if there was any ultimate meaning to life. This all culminated in a decision: I would read everything I could find about death, dying, mortality, aging, meaning, purpose, etc. I would pull out the secular advice and make myself a student of mortality. After all, death is an exam everyone takes (and fails, I suppose?). After half a day down an Amazon/Good Reads rabbit hole, I had more than 50 books flagged. I wanted to take meticulous notes, find patterns, maybe even devise exercises and meditations for myself. And once I realized how much work I was going to put into this, I wanted a space to share it with others. I decided to blog, and because I needed it to be clear that everything would be secular, I settled on “The Mortal Atheist.”

So thanks for visiting this bizarre, oddly private corner of the internet. I may never have met you, but we’re sharing a tiny slice of cosmic time together, and I’d say that makes us friends. I hope you find comfort and meaning here, and I hope I do too.