Knowledge is infectious, pure and simple. Reason is not unfortunately. Blind selflessness, blind justisce, blind faith, each of these is a devestating blow to reason. And to guard yourself from such things, I impart this piece of wisdom: Reason should be one's only soviergn (spl?), for anything else to rule one's actions, is to allow yourself to be taken in by kind words and be at the mercy of anyone who asks anything of you, wether it be money, or your life. But more to the point, I will key in on faith. Faith is by definition, a belief (fanatical or not) in something that cannot be proven. But to have faith in something means that it cannot be proven, ipso facto, for a 'god' to exsist and have it's zealots say "'He' does exsist!" and still have faith in 'him' is not possible. Logic dictates that if it's zealots say "'He' exsists because I have faith that 'he' exsists." All of which means that 'he' could not possibly exsist, for the simple reason that knowledge of 'him' exsisting denies faith, and since 'he' cannot exsist without faith 'he' cannot be. On the counterpoint, 'he' could be proven to exsist, by not believing in 'him', which in itself is a moot point. Let us look on a puddle in a desert, though most puddles are not sentient beings we will imagine this one to be.
Once there was a puddle, she was born in a desert, for several days the inky black clouds nourished her.
Now lets stop for a moment and look at the situation. There is a puddle in a desert, the likes of who, I will be comparing to the human race, currently top of the food chain. She was born from the storm, the likes of whom one could compare to a creator, or gene pool, ameoba, ect.
And back to the puddle, here she is, enjoying the little space carved out by her ancestors, a small depression in the ground, all of an inch deep, and several wide. (Puts some perspective into it, wouldn't you agree?) Here she is as time passes, thinking to herself:
"Oh my, this is so nice, I'm flouroshing. And this place that I'm in, it's so perfect, almost like it was made for me. (I wonder why?) I wonder if it was always like this?... If not, then where did it come from?... I didn't make it, so who did?... It must've been someone strong, much more than I. Someone smart, almost obscenly so. (So humans learned all of this odd thinking from puddles? So amazing.) I need to find out who!"
Now is the part of my tale where our little puddle becomes quite dynamic in it's thinking, it reverts itself into thinking above itself, instead of around and within itself. But even as the puddle starts thinking, the nurturing clouds dissapate, leaving behind a gleaming sun. The little puddle ponders it's creator problem, all the while it begins to shrink. Now half it's original size, we visit in on the puddle.
"It's quite hot.... I wonder if all of this is my creator's doing? I guess she must know what She's doing. (Blind faith) But so long as I believe in Her, She would not let me down. (Delusions)
The sun withers her down to a tiny droplet, but still she holds strong in her faith. Though on the verge of insanity, rocking back and forth. We come once again to her one inch by three inch dilema.
"I-I love Her... G-gracious Cre-eator, I l-love Her..." Just as she was thinking of how much she loves her creator, she vanishes into thin air, and disapates into nothing. Which all comes as quite a shock to her.
Meanwhile, three and a quarter feet away, another puddle is being nailed to a peice of wood for our little puddles sins. Two feet to it's left another puddle is preaching to it's peers about how they should believe in nothing before his creator.