DECEMBER 5, 2025 – For reasons previously divulged in some detail on this blog site, I’m not religious. This doesn’t translate to atheism, mainly because that concept scares me. My fear is paradoxically comforting, though: it’s a sharp reminder that I’m still human, not a piece of digitized machinery run by flawless logic. The day that machines replace the human heart and soul is the day that Bach, for all its logic, will lose its divine beauty. Agnosticism is a logical alternative to atheism; an accommodation for someone with my profile, that is, someone who’s comfortable, or at least accepting, of ambiguity.
But whether I’m definitionally “a-theist” (in Greek, “no god”) or “agnostic” (in Greek, “no” (or “not”) knowing”), based on my interactions with other human beings, I believe that in our connections resides a force that we ought to treat as divine. My belief isn’t based on faith, wishes, doctrine or dogma but on my direct observations and interactions with fellow members of the species.
I experienced many of these connections three years ago when I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, then treated for it. Late this morning I was surprised by a connection that soon unfolded as a miraculous extension of those divine interactions three years ago.
By way of background, at this time of year I need to speak with an annual service provider for my law practice. To protect his privacy, I’ll be vague about his identity and service. I shan’t be at all bashful about singing his professional and personal praises, however. A fellow member of the bar, he’s a standout individual in all respects. He’s been a long-time subscriber to this blog and followed closely my daily posts throughout my ordeal in 2022.
When I phoned him this morning, he asked how I was doing. After my response, he told me he still follows my posts regularly. He used that as a springboard to encourage me to write more about what I’d gone through; that it would be a great help to others who were facing the same ordeal. One thing led to another, one of them being my upcoming biopsy for possible prostate cancer. This disclosure released the “divine.” It turns out he’d been through the very same process and is now being treated successfully. In the course of his disclosure, he revealed the great miracle, the “divinity,” if you will, that resides in human interactions.
“When I was going through my diagnosis and early treatment,” he said, “I thought about your experiences as you described them on your blog. They were so helpful. If Eric could get through all that, I thought, certainly I can get through this.”
I was floored by his words. But then the rest of this remarkable conversation unfolded. For the next 45 minutes, it was he who was giving me encouragement as I prepare to navigate into the fog of the unknown, albeit now with far more confidence than I’d had when I’d called him. He was giving back, and in this miraculous and generous reciprocation, he revealed the “divine” that floats, zips, bounces back and forth, transports hope, support and encouragement among us human beings—flawed in so many ways, yet at our best, creatures animated by the divine.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
