As it has come to pass, verily we say unto thee, that as a community*, we are, or ought to be, transitioning, if only we had a goddammed Atlas. We’re celebrating the transition by keeping absolutely everything exactly and universally the same. We are chilling in the stillness of the present moment of meeting up down at the Astor Hotel @ 437 Pulteney St, ( it's right on the North-West corner of Pulteney and Gilles), on the first Monday night of the month for a heartfelt chat, without parental supervision, real, imagined or goddess-given. The common thing we share isn't a belief in some god or other (even given that there's just so many to choose from) or a belief that there positively isn't a god. What we share is a lack of belief in god. That is to say, for us, as atheists, there's an echoing absence of a belief in god.
So no grand designs, other than the ones that we individually create. No little plans, other than our own itsy-bitsy foibles of paying the mortgage and writing some distinctly average poetry, which we like to imagine is all completely the actual product of our very own rapier wits. Such is the thrust and parry of our one shot at life. But and however, you might notice that we’re quite relaxed & comfortable about all of that. If you bother to come along then you might find that by the end of the evening that it was noted several times, without despair, an echoing absence of an Atlas. +
* The Atheist-Community-of-SA Incorporated (ACSA) host this MeetUp.
+ And if you really really must have an Atlas present, we’ve left one over there; can you see?? Just over behind that tree, yeah that’s right, the one just beyond last Wednesday’s fortnight. ++
++ And for those also seeking a definite guarantee of the certainty of a single deified moral sauce then take a little further wander on down that winding path to finders keepers that grave of some old geeky greeky guy, where the headstone reads "Xenophanes, Circa 500 BCE" and the inspiration says "But as for certain truth, no man has known it. Nor will he know it; neither of the gods, nor yet of all the things of which I speak. And if by chance he were to utter the final truth, he would himself not know it : For all is but a woven web of guesses."