“I don’t believe in god…” is not what people say when ending a conversation, but it can be if you then immediately jump out of your father’s parked car and sprint into your friend’s house. I had built up to the confession intentionally.

Like a great many people, Oasis folks included, I was brought up religious. I went to church on Sundays and Wednesdays. I participated in church children’s choirs, attended Sunday school and participated in other church-related activities...

Faith is a funny thing. You don't know it's there until you see it-- and it's not necessarily religious. It's that twenty minutes you wait for a date to show up, hoping they won't ghost you. Or the space between the time your check engine light goes off, and your next paycheck.

When I grew up, there was no such thing as boundaries. Though my family isn’t as traditionally hierarchical as some, parental authority remained strong. They had license to come into my room at any time, offer unsolicited advice, and what’s mine was theirs.

I have volunteered with Camp Quest Texas for three years and Camp Quest Northwest for two years. It has been life changing...

In the midst of the Thanksgiving season, what’s a newly de-converted person thankful for? Probably the same things appreciated by long-time atheist and Christian friends alike. The basics being: family, food, shelter, income, and Netflix. But there’s all sorts of wonderful things I’m thankful for...

My mother died unexpectedly on July 8th. Yes, she happened to be diagnosed with a brain tumor fifteen years prior to that, live cancer-free for eleven years, and have it return to leave her with a right-side disability for four years leading to her death...

That declamation burst from my lips many, many times when I was a child. Framing my early years were a father whose own childhood left him violence prone and incapable of bonding, and a benighted religious sect that was hidebound to the past.

If your dog is a neighborhood disturbance, then you are responsible, not the dog; the dog is just being a dog.

Because I am legally blind, I thought it might be helpful to write a blog to inform others about my disability, to educate and to show that I am a fellow Oasian who enjoys being a part of the community like everyone else.

What I love about this blog is the stories. I’m a bookworm, but serious reader or not, I believe the best introduction is always: “Let me tell you a story.”

"How are you doing? Do you need anything? Those questions still throw me back into the first hazy, grainy days after my husband, Bruce, died very suddenly November 22, 2017 from double pulmonary embolisms.

My first responsibility as an educator is to make sure my students are safe at all times. This includes managing the classroom climate, modifying lesson plans for students, and knowing them, as well as the culture they are a part of. This is a huge undertaking. It also includes keeping them safe during an active shooting episode.

For this installment of the Oasis blog, we offer a discussion of a song lyric provided by long-time Oasis member, Gary Taylor, with an analysis by TC Smythe. (TC's favorite lines are in bold text.) We hope that this topic might inspire our members to create more songs and anthems with a humanist twist.

I don’t get too excited about a lot of things. My highs are not too high, and my lows are not too low. I tend to live in a moderate, middle, calm area that I sometimes call Zen. Now in my mid 40s, I’ve realized some ideas that DO excite and energize me...

Since coming to Oasis, I’ve been asked by some long-time friends, “What’s the deal with this Oasis thing of yours?” often accompanied by a slight rolling of the eyes. I’m never offended since I’ve even asked the same question of myself.

I’ve pondered a lot and questioned a lot since my mother was first diagnosed with glioblastoma, a rare form of brain cancer, and even more since her premature death at a very young and vivacious 66 years old. Mom attended Oasis with me a few times, and she fit right in here.

When I was a kid, Christmas was the best time of year. My brother and I would go to school one morning early in December and by the time we’d get home the inside of our house had transformed...