Spencer Moseley

There isn't really anything I know.  ..and that's insane to me. I can talk about rocket ships and the moon, math and science, good and evil. But I don't know anything . I believe a lot of things that I learned in school that may turn out to be fake news later (like how we used to believe the earth was flat until one day they were like, "nah fam it's a sphere"). We use tests to confirm gravity is real so that you can be confident that when you take shit, it will fall into the toilet; but some level of faith in the scientific process, what others tell me, and my personal experience that no one else can share, governs my life.  So since I can't know anything with any certainty, I'm starting to think that choices are all that matters. There are times when I haven't always felt love for people close to me, but I've chosen to stay by their side. Other times I haven't felt like going into work, but I went in anyway. Sometimes customers say rude co...

I built a bookshelf yesterday. As I built it, I chose carefully which books would go on which shelf. Novels on one, studies on another, philosophy here, history there. My apartment space is nice and organized now, and everything is in its place.  That's what it feels like to create order out of chaos. To choose a path forward without knowing where things will end up feels as adventurous as it feels scary and difficult.  In my love life I've also built a bookshelf. I know my gay side is less explored, so I'm choosing to move in that direction with dating (#yasyasyasqueen).  In my spiritual world, I am exploring the Unitarians since the Church I've visited explores spirituality with openness and kindness.  In my career, well... I'm probably exploring too much and need to choose one out of the creative endeavors I love to dedicate all of my energy to: comedy, singing, theater, or writing. I'm thinking singing because I truly love it and could see myself improving. ...

As an atheist/agnostic, I'm sometimes too hardcore about there "likely not being a god".  My coworker, in earnest, said: "Someone/something must've created all this. Name me one design that doesn't have a designer." Instead of just shrugging it off, I had to reply: "True. I'm not arguing that things just happened to appear into existence with no cause, but what question have we answered if we posit a creator? Aren't we back to the same question we already have if we have to ask, 'well what created the creator?'" There was an uncomfortable silence, and another coworker chimed in that everyone should feel free to believe what the believe. And again, I had to jump in with, "true, but I think we are talking about science, not faith right now". More uncomfortable silence.  It got me thinking, why did I try to sway him to my side? Why couldn't I just hold my tongue, acknowledge that I think differently, and wait until t...

If you don't feel scared, there's no opportunity to be brave.  Bravery is the most valuable virtue. It's the fine line between fading into nothingness and living among the stars. Aristotle was wrong. Virtue is not a "means between extremes". Virtue is an action performed despite feelings. It's the only thing we can point to that's "black and white". It's what you will or will not do for your own sake.  Even if your bravery doesn't give the desired result, you learned. You grew.  Seeking results = unhappiness. Results come and go like the wind. Some days you will feel on top of the world. Some days you'll only get one text from someone you don't even like while plopped on a couch. If we rely only on results, we will rely on unsure ground.  If we tap into our fears, confront them, and act despite them in an act of bravery, that act in itself is happiness. It might not always get you the result you want, but the progress it generates...

Anyone following my blog knows I have an age-old life struggle that I talk about frequently: the religious world v. the secular world, certainty v. uncertainty, knowing v. not knowing. I'd like to explore that in a more meta way today. I was cloud-watching the other day.  As I watched a cloud that looked like an owl, I felt happy. It felt nice to label it and watch it float across the sky. Then it morphed. The owl became a shapeless cloud as winds manipulated its form. For a moment I was upset. I was happy looking at that owl, calling it an owl, feeling certain it was an owl . I found happiness again by saying to myself, "oh well, that happens sometimes", and I went back to cloud-watching to see what would happen next.  Nature teaches me everything I need to learn, and this story highlights my struggle with feelings of certainty and uncertainty. The feeling of certainty  is the space of control. It feels good to know. It feels powerful. I SAY THIS IS AN OWL AND I'M RI...

Shadows fade, a new sunrise A brand new day begins  I’m calm, I shower, I kiss my dog The sunlight licks my skin.  An angry customer, a shady grin The small things can grow big. My shoulders slump, my forehead aches  I’m ready for the  end.  My mind is trapped I don’t know why I’m here or how to live  But no one knows and knowing this  Brings me no peace within.  But chasing peace and chasing answers  Brought me to this place.  If peace is what I wanted Well, life is not the place.  Life is here for those who choose To drop all expectations That weight once fallen, hits the ground I bow in adoration. 

A lonely boy pressed start His video game, staticky, turned on He saw his mother Chills VR headset taking him to another dimension Where science and literature are one He stops, he freezes He finds a Doritos taco loco, uneaten on the floor Bends down to touch it Sees a different planet It has centaurs and dragons, oh my What’s next? A shooting star? He can’t remember how he got here  He ventures into the nothing, not sure if nothing is something or privation of something  His head, not spinning, alarms him.  The British are coming Their redcoats aflame A strawberry daq is calling his name Never so frustrated, never so parched.  He’s mentally healthy, not torn apart But his lightsaber is glowing, it wants to attack  It’s not red, not green, not blue, not purple It’s some shade like Guadalupe, not in our spectrum.  His mother emerges Am I not here? Who loves you and holds you and wants to be seen? I can’t tell you I love you I fear you’re far off On your own ...