In relation to the "scariest part of becoming an Atheist" entry from last year.

"giving up Church is harder than quitting smoking"
- 'reformed' Christian at Forrestania

I broke up with my partner over a desire to keep travelling all year and not return to Australia. And it felt like the world went out from under me. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted my best friend back. I wanted to go back to Perth and say "I'm sorry, I was being selfish." I stayed in bed all day, and spent the next week doing nothing but think, and drink tea, and think some more. Then I got sick, and it rained for 2 weeks, and my bicycle broke, and no one would help me, and I just wanted to pick up the phone.
But I couldn't.
I was by myself. I didn't have a shoulder to cry on. No more hugs, no more love letters to compose, no more admirer watching me from across miles and miles of ocean. Just...
Nothing. Me. Alone.

But no-one would advise a serious relationship with potential life-altering consequences just to avoid being alone.

And perhaps my "relationship" with God is the same. To make the leap to being "alone," to officially cut out the part of me that has almost defined my existance ("girl, christian, canadian, geologist") for almost 24 years?
Multiply the Mal-withdrawal by 24.

Of course I'll be lonely. I'll want the church services and small groups and christmas carols and the challenge of memorizing the entire book of Romans (and no, I didn't.) I'll want my God back when I'm sick and its been raining for 2 weeks and my bicycle is broken.

But is it really bad to be alone?
Maybe it is good for me, and something to be enjoyed, but I'm simply not used to it yet.
Maybe its a better challenge than the book of Romans.

Today's bike ride, through green rice fields with the odd terrace of yellow canola, baskets of baby chicks in the markets, pink and white blossoms, an old guy with a rabbit on a leash, was a reminder that it is getting close to Easter, the holiday that most Christian children wouldn't put on top of the list (I always liked Canada day and Halloween the best, because of the excuse to blow things up) unless Mom and Dad were extra-generous with the chocolate. But it is the most important time of year. And old traditions die hard. I am in China miles away from the nearest church, and 100s of miles from the nearest church where anyone might potentially speak English, and I'm riding down the hill thinking about what I ought to give up for lent. And recalling that all the non-belief in Jesus Christ as my pesonal saviour did not stop me from attending midnight mass in Ninh Binh, Vietnam. Not a word of English, not a single familiar custom (seriously this did not resemble anything like mass, except that it was held in a cathedral at midnight on the 25th of december) but somehow this felt like something appropriate. It felt right to be there. But why? Why do people repeat the traditions of their youth well into adulthood, knowing that these things are not going to bring them salvation and that these things might even be bad for the intellect? Did I actually stop being a Christian years ago and simply not notice because there is a comfort in being one of the group, in having scripture meditation to occupy my mind, songs to sing, and prayer to get me to sleep at night?

(and before the outrage begins: no I didn't touch the bread and wine)