Mottoes - Part 1 "Be tough"

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There are several problems with being tough.  First of all, it’s a lie. 

 

We all have mottoes - things we say to ourselves or words of so-called wisdom we learned from others along the way.  Mottoes are supposed to be little sayings that encapsulate a set beliefs or ideals that can guide us through life.    The trouble with mottoes is that they often lead us astray.  This is first part of a series on the mottoes I have had in life which did me no good at all. 

We are all made up of each and every experience that ever happened to us.  They are all stored in our subconscious and are influencing us moment by moment without our even being aware.  Although we think our conscious minds are calling the shots in our lives, they are not – our subconscious is mostly what drives us. 

It is our instinct to avoid or recoil from pain and suffering.  It’s a good instinct – a survival instinct.  But often times instincts that are there for our survival, can turn into ways of being that ultimately tear us down.  Our fight or flight response, when it’s ON daily, leads to stress-related illnesses.  Our bodies’ attraction to high fat, high sugar foods …well, we all know where that leads. 

And our avoidance of pain and suffering can also end up nowhere good. 

If there is a part of us that has suffered, we often try to just put it away. 

“Don’t think about it”

“Don’t dwell on it”

“get over it”

“Be tough”  

That was my dad’s motto – be tough.   My dad was a football coach.  He was tough.  His motto "be tough" got him through a lot as a child of an abusive and alcoholic father.  He said it to us as kids - repeatedly.  

There are several problems with being tough.  First of all, it’s a lie.  I’m not tough and neither are you.  We are all weak, and fragile.  We all feel stuff and that is totally OK, totally honest and totally human.     The second problem is that no one can keep up being tough.  If we don't allow ourselves to be weak and fragile, it will come out in our bodies.  We will have muscle spasms, headaches, backaches and any other number of other problems.  Our bodies cry out to us, "HEY!!  Guess what!!  You're not as tough as you're trying to be!"  Our bodies always tell the truth and will try to get us to stop being tough all the time.  Another problem with being tough is that to be tough you have to reject the part of you that isn’t.   And to reject it, you pretty much have to tell yourself that it’s bad, and worthy of rejection.   The idea that some feelings are good and some feelings are bad is built in to our society.  It’s ingrained in us almost from infancy.  So we reject the parts of us that we have been taught are bad:  weakness, fear, anxiety, sadness, confusion, boredom, uncertainty.  When we encounter these feelings, we find ways to get rid of them as quickly as possible:  deny, medicate, blame, lash-out, act out.  Anything we can do to return to “good” feelings like: strength, certainty, happiness, confidence. 

Those “good” feelings are only half of us.  We are rejecting half of ourselves, and rejecting half of others as well.  How can we have lives of love if we reject fully half of all that makes us and everyone else human?  Who is going to love our “dark” side? 

We walk through life feeling lonely and unloved because we have rejected half of ourselves and others have as well.   Imagine what it would feel like if we lived in such a way that the side of ourselves that we keep in the shadows, the things we don’t want people to know for fear of their rejection – were loved and appreciated every bit as much as those qualities we call our strengths. 

It starts with us.   An exercise that I use is a visualization of cradling pain and suffering.  I learned it years ago when I was becoming certified to be a hypnotherapist.   In this visualization, I imagine the thing I am trying to reject in myself.  Maybe it’s a personality trait, a behavior, a past experience, or an experience I’m having right now.   I imagine holding that thing and cradling it like a mother holds and cradles her baby, speaking words of love and acceptance to it.  Sometimes the mother doesn’t even know why the baby is suffering, but the very act of cradling the baby soothes its suffering.   I find in myself that this visualization lets me acknowledge that within me are many, many feelings and experiences that are not tough.  They are soft, and vulnerable, and hurt; and that's OK.....they are loved.

(To comment click at the top on the title of this post - "Mottos - Part 1 "Be Tough")  

Relationship with God

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So, how do I go about “having a relationship” with something that is part of my very being?  

relationship

noun  re·la·tion·ship  \ ri-ˈlā-shən-ˌship \

1: the state of being related or interrelated

2: the relation connecting or binding participants in a relationship: such as     a : kinship        b : a specific instance or type of kinship

3a : a state of affairs existing between those having relations or dealings         b : a romantic or passionate attachment

Do you think maybe the term "relationship with God" is problematic? As time goes on, I find it feels weird to say it. There are all kinds of relationships and the word “relationship” can be used in many different ways, but usually when we talk about relationship with God, we are talking about the type of relationship that is an interaction between two separate entities.  We are taught that we need to work on this relationship and seek out this relationship.

And yet perhaps God is not something “out there” that we have to search for, and strive after and work to have a relationship with.  Perhaps he is within us and a part of us and all we have to do is recognize that.  The Bible is full of imagery of God as the ground of our being rather than a distant being “out there” :

“God is through all and in all” Ephesians 4:6

“For in him we live, move and have our being.”  Acts 17:28

 “in him all things hold together” Colossians 1:17

Do you not know that you are a temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” I Cor 3

In order to think about God as something or someone with whom we have a relationship of exchange or a relationship that requires tremendous effort on our part, God has to be “other”.  We have to be separate in order for the idea of that kind of relationship to work. It seems to me that sacred scripture talks much more about God being “in and through” than being separate and apart. If God dwells in us and we are the temple of God’s spirit then it’s interesting that we still think of God as something “out there” and separate from us.   

The problem could be in the name.  We've named God and by giving "God" a name, he has become an entity separate from ourselves.  When Moses asked God for a name, he was given none but was told that he was to call God "I am that I am".  Names and labels can create separation and misconceptions.  

I think we’ve not realized just how intimate this thing with God is supposed to be.  If God is in me, a part of me, if God is the very thing that holds me together and the force in which I “live, move and have my being” then it is safe to say that God is not something separate and apart from me.   God is integral to myself and in the very fiber of my being. What could be more intimate than that?  How can I be separated from the very thing that holds me together?  I cannot.  We are one. 

So, how do I go about “having a relationship” with something that is part of my very being?  

When it comes to ourselves, we don't say we have a relationship with those aspects that are integral to us.  We don’t usually talk about having a relationship with our bodies, or our minds, or our cells, or our spirits. We just ARE with ourselves. Our bones and muscles hold us together, our blood could be said to be the thing that allows us to live, move and have our being and yet we don’t talk about having relationships with these things.  They are a part of us.  Sure, we “relate” to our bodies; we eat, we exercise, we bathe and take care of our bodies, but this is not the type of relationship that is some kind of back and forth or exchange between two separate entities. 

If I think of my body as something disconnected and separate from me, it’s problematic.  I won’t be able to hear what it is telling me in the tension of my shoulders or the tightness in my chest. I might eat or drink too much, no matter how awful it makes my body feel.  I might not eat anything at all.  Disconnection from our bodies can lead to increased anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, eating disorders, cutting, addictions, sexual acting out, and psychosomatic illnesses. 

If we have become disconnected from our body, we don't have to work to build any type of relationship, the relationship is already there - built in.  We just have to learn to re-connect ourselves and get back in tune and in touch.  Maybe it’s the same when we think we are separate and disconnected from God.  Rather than working to build a relationship,  we just have to figure out how to re-connect ourselves to our source and to see and hear what is already there.     

We are not just made by God, we are made of God.”  Julian of Norwich

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Embracing Darkness

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"...if you are willing to enter the cloud of unknowing and meet God in the dark—maybe even the dark of a tomb—you might be in for a surprise."

I came across this article today on religionnews.com.  I couldn't agree with BBT more.  

https://religionnews.com/2014/04/14/barbara-brown-taylor-encourages-christians-embrace-darkness/

She’s been called a heretic by some and a prophet by others. Baylor University even named her one of the 12 most effective speakers in the English-speaking world.  Her name is Barbara Brown Taylor, and she is on a mission to redeem the darkness.

“Christianity has never has anything nice to say about darkness,” says the 62-year-old Episcopal priest in her new book, Learning to Walk in The Dark.  Taylor charges churches with propagating a “full solar spirituality” that “focuses on staying in the light of God around the clock.” But she says the faithful need to discover a “lunar spirituality,” which recognizes that humans need both darkness and the divine light .

It’s fitting that Taylor’s book should release before Holy Week, a time when Jesus entered what many Christians would call one of the darkest periods in his own life.  Was Christ’s dark period a positive thing overall? I imagine most Christians would say “yes.” Yet, some of those same Christians resist embracing darkness in their lives.

In the first part of my interview, Taylor and I discuss her message about darkness and why she thinks Christians need it. In part two, which will be posted tomorrow, we explore hot topics such as what she believes makes one Christian, if she believes in a literal devil, and whether she is afraid of dying.

RNS: How do you think modern Christians have misunderstood darkness, both in scripture and in life?

BBT: Once you start listening to how people use the words dark or darkness, it doesn’t take long to realize that the references are 99% negative. I don’t know how that happened in every day speech. Maybe it’s a linguistic fossil leftover from our days in caves or maybe it is a predictable association for people who’ve become addicted to light.

Where scripture is concerned, I don’t think Christians have misunderstood much of anything. From Genesis to Revelation, darkness is used a synonym for ignorance and sin and evil and death. But there are also narrative passages that form an easily missed minority report.

RNS: You also talk about the positive use of darkness Isaiah 45 (“I will give you hidden treasures in the darkness”). You obviously think we have misunderstood something, no?

BBT: When I say we haven’t misunderstood anything, that’s if you go through a concordance and look up the words. If you look up “dark” and “darkness,” scripture is unanimous. But if you look up the stories, it’s a whole different thing.

In Genesis, darkness existed before God even got to work as a primal substance. Everything was made by God from dark. In Exodus, God promises to come to Moses on Mount Sinai in a dense or dark cloud. Here, darkness is divine and where God dwells. Abraham meets God in the darkness, Jacob wrestles an angel in the middle of the night, and angels announcing Christ’s birth to the shepherds at night. There’s so much that happens in the dark that is essential to the Christian story.

Linguistically, it’s the pits. Narratively, it is a different story.

RNS: What’s your working definition of darkness?

BBT: Darkness is everything I do not know, cannot control, and am often afraid of. But that’s just the beginner’s definition. If I am a believer in God, then darkness is also where God dwells. God may also be frightening and uncontrollable and largely unknown to me, yet I decide to trust God anyway.

RNS: You say “many old-time Christians are looking into the dark right now.” How might your message help them?

BBT: I mean “mainline” Christians. It only takes about a minute in any news source to notice in decline in everything from membership to budgets to congregations combining and buildings going up for sale. Sometimes when I visit these embattled churches, I feel almost like I’m working for hospice visiting churches that are just scared to death they’re dying. You can almost smell the sweat in the room as they fret about what in the world they’re going to do.

But if you really work for hospice you learn to work with what is left. The remaining time, resources, relationships. Even for mainline Christians who are looking into the dark, there is reconciliation and healing and intimacy and community that can take place in the dark. There’s also a lot of humility in the dark, which might be a great curative for a religious tradition that’s been on top for a long time.

RNS: You critique many some churches for having a “full solar spirituality.” But don’t people—those wrestling with depression and fear, for example–want and need hope?

BBT: First, you equate full solar spirituality with hope. But there’s plenty of hope in the dark too. And you also equate darkness with depression and fear. But there’s a lot of healing and liberation in the dark. So you’re using those speech patters that I’ve noticed more and more.

There is a lot of what happens these days that I would call “spiritual bypassing,” where one offers a religious formula to will help you stay on top. But I cannot sell out the Christian message, which at its heart says that when the bottom drops out and you’re screaming your guts out at God, there’s more. It says that if you are willing to enter the cloud of unknowing and meet God in the dark—maybe even the dark of a tomb—you might be in for a surprise.

The great hope in the Christian message is not that you will be rescued from the dark but if you are able to trust God all the way into the dark, you may be surprised.

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The ten year Parent

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It’s weird to think that for all of us, the parent that raised us no longer exists

My mom is 84.  She’s been living here for three and a half years.  Having her live with us has been interesting.  At first, she actually lived in our house – we re-did the den to add a larger bathroom and she and my dad moved in.  Shortly afterward, my dad ended up in a nursing home and about a year ago, she moved out to her own apartment, which is behind our house.  My husband built it for her at one end of his workshop.  I think she’s happier there.  She doesn’t have to feel like she’s in our way (even though she wasn’t).  She can eat her own food without feeling we might disapprove of the sugar content.  She can do whatever she wants without worrying about what we will think.  And I guess that includes playing the piano.  My husband frequently hears her sitting at her piano and playing.  I heard her the other day too and I thought, “how cool!”   Growing up, I don’t remember hearing her play much.  There were four of us kids, and I’m sure she didn’t have time to sit down and play much, or she played while we were at school. 

I’ve had conversations with my siblings about our memories of mom.  Each of us has differences based on our ages and how she changed over the years.  I told my sister once that when I was a young parent I felt like a failure because sometimes I would lose my temper and yell at my kids and I have only one memory of my mom ever losing her temper.  My sister is the oldest and is six years older than me.  She couldn’t imagine this version of my mom.  She remembers my mom sometimes losing her temper and yelling.  She remembers my mom making popovers and cooking casseroles for dinners.  I remember none of that.  The mom that I remember was cool and calm, never yelled and never made popovers.  Meat, veg and starch were the meals I remember.  My younger brother remembers frozen pizzas and hot pockets after school and a mom that was more hip and with-it than I remember.  

My mom is much changed from the mom any of us grew up with.  I guess we will all be able to say the same when we are 84.   I have thought a lot about how strange it is to be with this mom, who is so different from the mom I grew up with.   I’ve wondered, when did the change occur?  We haven’t lived in the same city since I was 17.   They moved away while I was a sophomore in college and I stayed here in Fort Worth.    Throughout the years, I would usually only see her a few days a year.  She would come for a visit of a few days at the holidays, and I would go for a visit to her house for a few days for other holidays, seldom more than a few days at a time.  Not enough time to get to know the changes that might have been going on with her that much.  How she might have changed in her viewpoints, her temperament, her beliefs.   Sure, as she has gotten older I’ve seen the physical changes; aging, slowing down, more forgetful, more vulnerable.  But for the most part, in my mind, my idea of her as “mom” was locked in to that person that raised me. 

Until she came here to live.

And I realize that the person I have thought of all these years as “mom”, really doesn’t even exist except in my memories. 

It’s weird to think that for all of us, the parent that raised us no longer exists.  It’s weird to think that my own kids will remember the person I was from the age they had good memory (8 years old?) to when they moved out of our house (18 years old) – maybe ten to twelve years; as their mom. And that woman doesn’t exist.  Sometimes I think back to the person I was ten or fifteen years ago and I barely recognize her myself.  From the time that my kids left home until now, our interactions have been for a few days here, a week there.  Not day-in and day-out.  Not living together and experiencing what is happening to the other, seeing how they live now and how it’s different from then.  We see one another age and evolve, but from a distance, and in short glimpses. It’s kind of sad to me in a way.  The 10-year parent that I gave to my daughter’s memories was not my very best self.  I was a young parent with them, super enthusiastic about being a parent, but a little over-the-top; pretty dogmatic, strict and black and white.  The ten-year parent I gave to my son’s memories was better. I was more chilled out, had a better balance.    If I had been a parent to yet another kid the past ten years, I would have been even better. 

But who am I kidding, I would have been too tired to raise another kid. 

Anyway, it’s an interesting process getting to know a new mom.  Holding her in my heart as that same person I knew then and letting go of that person at the same time. 

This infinitude within people is such a strange and weird contradiction. 

And this infinite contradiction is one we all live with – both with the people we love and within ourselves.  We all feel like we are the same person we have always been.  In so many ways, I feel no different than I did when I was 17 and I wonder how it’s possible I am 53.   But, if I stand away from myself and look at myself – really look – I can see I am nothing like that girl I hold inside.  I am much changed.  I hardly recognize so many of the things I said, and did, and believed.  I regret things that I said and did in the past. I find many things embarrassing and laughable and find that it would be impossible to think and act that way now.   So the girls I’ve been at any age and at all ages add up to the person I am today.  We are all me at the same time.  And who I am today is a breath that will blow away and be gone but will incorporate into someone I am becoming and will be tomorrow.     

I’m sure my mom would say she’s the same person and she’s unchanged from the ten-year mom I remember. 

But it’s not true.

(To comment, click on header)

#metoo - part 6 Why do men feel threatened by women?

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"They're afraid women will laugh at them," he said.

A quote by Margaret Atwood:

"Why do men feel  threatened by women?" I asked a male friend of mine. (I love that wonderful rhetorical device, "a male friend of mine." It's often used by female journalists when they want to say something particularly bitchy but don't want to be held responsible  for it themselves. It also lets people know that you do have male friends, that you aren't one of those fire-breathing mythical monsters, The Radical Feminists, who walk around with little pairs of scissors and kick men in the shins if they open doors for you. "A male friend of mine" also gives — let us admit it — a certain weight to the  opinions expressed.) So this male friend of mine, who does by the way exist, conveniently entered into the following dialogue. "I mean," I said, "men are bigger, most of the time, they can run faster, strangle better, and they have on the average a lot more money and power." "They're afraid women will laugh at them," he said. "Undercut their world view."

 Then I asked some women students in a quickie poetry  seminar I was giving, "Why do women feel threatened by men?" "They're afraid of being killed," they said.

Here's a good article:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/may/21/santa-fe-mass-shooting-misogyny#img-1

(To comment, click on header)

 

My God my God, why have you forsaken me?

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In death, God is riven from God’s very self.

“From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli,lemasabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).

When some of those standing there heard this, they said, “He’s calling Elijah.”

Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. The rest said, “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.”

And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit.”

Elijah didn’t come to save him.  God didn’t come to save him.

It was finished. 

In death.

This is one of the profound elements of the Christian story and one that is overlooked. 

Many people have rejected the idea of a God of life and love due to the tremendous suffering we see all around us.  If there is a loving God, why doesn’t God do something about suffering?  It’s a question we have all heard, or asked, or wondered about.  Maybe we have decided it’s an unanswerable question.  Maybe we have set it aside.  Maybe we have found answers that satisfy us.  Answers like: evil and suffering isn’t from God, but from satan, or from mankind.  Answers like: suffering is due to the falleness of creation.  Answers like:  suffering is what transforms us into the likeness of Christ, therefore it is part of God’s plan.   Answers like: it’s my fault, I didn’t have enough faith. 

But if we are honest, when we are in our darkest hour of pain and suffering, we cry out, “my God, my God WHY have you forsaken me?!”    WHERE IS GOD IN THIS?!?!?   Is God insensitive to my pain?  Does God hear me?  Does God exist? 

Perhaps the answer is not “no, God has not forsaken you.”  But rather, “yes – God has forsaken you.” 

When God forsakes you, God forsakes God’s very self.  

That is one of the profound truths  being revealed in the crucifixion.  In death and in suffering – God forsakes God’s very self.

If God is life and love then every incident of death and evil is God forsaking himself.   Every incident of  pain and suffering is life and love forsaking itself, forsaking you, forsaking all that is life and love.  

But God is not JUST life and light and love because life cannot exist without death.  Death must occur for life to occur and that is the second profound truth in the crucifixion.   Without death there is no life. So in the very nature of life itself, death is built in.  So God is life.  God is death.  And in death, God is riven from God’s very self.   

At the core of God is a forsaking, a giving over to death in order that there may be life.  

“Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.”  John 12:23-25

“What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.” I Cor 15:36

“If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him take up his cross and follow me. Whoever wants to save his life must lose it” Matt 16:24-25

I used to read these types of verses thinking they were about living a life of self-denial and sacrifice.  Now I see them as verses that tell us that life and death are bound up together.  Without death, there is no life.  We see this clearly in nature and accept it readily.  It’s harder when it’s our life and the things or people we love dearly.  

Wherever there is good – evil is right there.

Wherever there is life – death is.

The plant dies to produce the seed.  Plants die as they are eaten as food.  Animals die as they are eaten as food.  Crazy weird beetle larva paralyze their prey and eat them alive.  A parasite called a strepsiptera eats its mother from the inside out to be born.

In death, life springs forth.    

A couple of years ago I was on a silent retreat.  One of the exercises was to write down all the things in my life that had been pivotal, transformational, life changing.  What had made me who I was today?  It was interesting to see that most of them were painful things.  Suffering.  And yet, most of the suffering had produced life in me, growth, goodness. 

In death, life springs forth.

 

(To comment, click on the title of this post, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”)

Authenticity and Wholeness

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No one has it right.

Recently, I heard the remark that many who are leaving evangelical, fundamentalist religion are leaving because today’s generations are looking for more authentic spirituality than former generations.  They are looking for “wholeness rather than holiness.” 

When we use words like “holiness”, we may think that what we mean is obvious and universal.  It’s important to remember that every word is a metaphor and every one of us means something unique – even though we think we are saying the same thing.  

That being said, even with the variation that certainly exists between persons when we use the word “holiness”, it is more than likely a state that just doesn’t exist.   So from that perspective, I can get on board with the notion that it’s a vain pursuit.  

But what about authenticity and wholeness?

Authenticity

I grew up in a very legalistic, but lifeless church tradition - the Church of Christ.  No hand-raising, no clapping, no “amens” from the crowd, DEFINITELY no speaking in tongues or healings – heaven forbid!!!   So, as a young adult, I left to go to a more evangelical church.  It seemed like forward movement.  It seemed more “authentic.”

This new thing I was involved in was full of life and spirit.  People were putting their money where their mouth was.  No more dry, hypocritical lip service to following Jesus.  This was real! People actually sold possessions and goods and gave to those in need like in Acts chapter 2.  There were miracles and healings!!  The spirit was moving!! 

It was Authentic!!

But as time went on, the underbelly was exposed.  It wasn’t as pure and authentic as I had originally supposed.   I moved on to the next, more-authentic thing.  But it wasn’t.  And the next thing wasn’t. …and the next thing…and the next. 

I’m 53.  I am at that age where I can look back and see that many, many things I did seemed authentic, enlightened, and WHOLE at the time, but were in fact, still lacking in many ways. 

Many, MANY things. 

In fact …..  all things.  

And that’s OK.  That’s the journey.  Every step we take in life contains something good and something lacking.  Every move we make is a move away from something and toward something else, only to find out what is missing with this new place.  And hopefully, we move one step further.    We never arrive at this so-called authenticity.

In fact, what’s actually authentic is the fact that everything we do is lacking. 

EVERYTHING

Wholeness

Wholeness is not an individual endeavor.  I cannot be whole and be separate from my fellow man.  Your pain is my pain.  Your joy is my joy.  Your mistakes are my mistakes.  Your victories are mine as well.  We are one body. 

Much of the new progressive, emerging church is getting this right where the marginalized are concerned.  Churches and non-church communities are opening and welcoming the outcast, the LGBTQ community, the racially and socio-economically marginalized, the foreigner, the refugee, and other religions. 

But what about those abusive evangelicals?  The conservatives?  The group(s) the new progressives have left behind?  What about them? Do we continue our welcome to even them?  Those that we deemed unworthy and inferior as we moved on to our more whole and authentic place?

Are we just building a new and in-our-opinion-improved wall?  Rather than shutting out and judging the marginalized and the downtrodden, are we simply changing the drapes to shut out and judge the religious and the conservatives.  

“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”

Right?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve cast my fair share of stones.

Over and over.

It’s human nature.  We NEED that stone-throwing energy to break away and process.  I don’t know about you, but I needed it to break away from the church I grew up in.  I needed it to break away from an emotionally abusive husband.  Without that sense of outrage and indignation, we might just stay stuck.   But once we have left and moved on, let’s not forget the next step.  Forgiveness.  Love. 

Wholeness. 

Remember that when we speak of wholeness, we are not whole until we learn to love everyone.  We have to take down the walls that separate us from not only the marginalized, the oppressed, the sinner, BUT ALSO the obnoxious, the judgmental, the misguided, the religious and the bigot.  

Loving your enemy isn’t easy.

So, don’t kid yourself into thinking you’ve finally got it right and are doing something authentic and whole.

 No one has it right.

Real authenticity and wholeness is the acknowledgement that we are no more authentic and whole than anyone else out there.  We are all imperfect and just muddling through.  We are all one body.  The hand can’t say to the foot ‘I don’t need you’. 

“Let him to thinks he stands, take heed lest he fall.” 

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Pro Death

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Everything is permissible

 

Egos like to create binaries.

Binaries make an attempt to simplify things. They help us make sense of our world, they help us feel safe and in control.  They give us a sense that we understand what we are seeing and have things figured out.

Binaries are problematic.

Nothing is a simple as it seems.  We love black and white but the world is full of grey.  We aren’t in control and we don’t have it all figured out. 

Good vs. Evil

Right vs. Wrong

Do we even know the difference?  Are we sure? 

Pro life vs. pro choice.

Death is bound up in life.

A person is born , life springs forth and that person lives a life full of horrible pain, suffering and torment. A hell on earth. 

Life is bound up in death.

A woman ends a pregnancy and grieves.  But, in this act she has unknowingly prevented the life of someone who would have grown up to endure great suffering or to inflict great suffering.   She has prevented a hell on earth. 

Decades ago, in my fundamentalist days, I used to say I was pro-life which meant I was against capital punishment, war and abortion.

But now I realize I'm also pro-death which means that many, many times there are worse things, more evil things than death.

If a person’s life here on earth is hell, I'm against that hell.  Whatever it means to bring heaven  to even one person, for even a moment,  I'm for that.  

For me there are no easy binaries. That's why we must exist in a place of grace rather than law.

Everything is permissible but not everything is beneficial.

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#metoo - part 5 - Narratives

Narrative2.jpg

What about just existing in the "I am" space? It feels more free there.

I was recently in a discussion where it was stated that we need a new male narrative in our culture.   This is true.

But it got me thinking about narratives and what my experiences have been with them.   I’ve been thinking about the narratives that were given to me, the narratives I have given myself and continue to give myself.   And I’ve been thinking about the new narratives I need as well. 

An online search says that narratives:

·         Help us to describe and define our identities, values, and relations to the world.

·         Create a sense of order and expectations from the overwhelming data of experience; and provide models for solving problems.

·         are the kind of stories a people—a nation, an ethnic or minority group within that nation, a gender, a band of pilgrims—tell about themselves.

And each of us has our own narrator in the brain, providing us with narratives about just about everything we experience; what things are, what they mean, how they measure up, and so on.   These narratives FEEL real and true, but they are simply subjective. 

And regardless of whether they are subjective or not, narratives can be positive or toxic.  They can produce both positive and negative behaviors in individuals and societies.  If my cultural narrative values individuality and achievement and yours values homogeneity and equality, we will have two very different results in both the culture and the individual.  And each of us will feel that our own outcome is superior.

My culture gave me some narratives.  It told me that the sky was the limit, and if I dreamed it, I could do it.  This was the classic “American dream” narrative.   My dad told me I could do anything I set my mind to do.  A similar narrative and one he absolutely believed in. 

The trouble with both of these narratives is that they are just not true.   While I recognize that as a white, upper-middle class female I had more chance of them being true than most – they still were not true.  The narrative told me there were no limits, but there were.  Financial limitations, social limitations, intellectual limitations.  I would have loved to have been a quantum physicist, but no matter how hard I try, I just don’t have THAT type of a brain.

I passed the “you can be anything you want to be” narrative on to my kids.  When my son was two or three, we were driving and he began to cry suddenly and inconsolably from his car seat in the back.  I asked him what was wrong and he said, “I’ll NEVER be a bird!!!”  I was confused at first, then realized that he had just realized that the "you can be anything you want to be" narrative I had given him just was not true.  No matter how hard he tried in life, he would never be a bird; he would always be a human. 

When I was twenty, the narrator in my brain told me I weighed too much.  I weighed 105 pounds and wanted to get back down to 100.  When I was thirty, the same narrator told me I weighed too much.  I weighed 128 pounds and wished I could get down to 110.  When I was forty, the same narrator told me that if could only get down to 125 pounds I would look perfect.  I weighed 135.   And now?  The same narrator tells me that 135 would be perfect.    Clearly the weight narrator has no objective standard. 

With gender narratives, the cultural narrative was confusing and ambiguous for me.  Imagine if it was confusing and ambiguous for a straight, white female, what it must be like for so many others!!!

On the one hand, my culture told me I was equal to men.  But the truth was - I wasn’t. 

Other conflicting narratives were given.  Women should be quiet and gentle.  If not, we are bitches.   We should be smart, but not too smart or we will intimidate men and threaten their egos and perhaps be undesirable to them.    We should pursue our interests, but only if they do not interfere with the interests of others.  We should take care of ourselves, but only after we have taken care of others first.  We should be desirable, but chaste.  We should maintain our bodies so that they are desirable to men, but we should not be a slut.  We are responsible for the sexuality of men.   These narratives came through my family upbringing, my religion and my society. 

Here are some of the words of those narratives that echo in my soul:

·         “Your beauty should …come from the inner disposition of your heart, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is precious in God’s sight.

·         “No one will buy the cow if the milk is for free”

·         “If you wear that, you are going to cause men to lust.  You will just be asking for it.”

·         “The wife does not have authority over her own body but yields it to her husband.”

·         “Wow, she’s really let herself go.”

·         “Don’t come across too strong, you might want to tone it down a little. “

·         “Stop being so emotional”

·         “If you’re always in the driver’s seat, no one else needs to be.”

·         “If you never say “no” to your husband, he will never have any reason to look elsewhere.”

·         “You are so lucky to have a husband who helps around the house.”

·         “It’s great that you’re dating again, but you don’t want to get a reputation as a slut.”

·         “Now that you’re single again, you need to work on your body.”

·         “Smile!”

There is a great twitter feed called @manwhohasitall .   In it, narratives are flipped to point out just how alarming or ridiculous many of them are.  Here are some examples:

·         “MEN!  Accentuate parts of your body you like, e.g. nice face , to draw attention away from the problem areas.

·         “My boss respects men.  She thinks they are every bit as equal as women.  She’s great.  I’m so lucky”

·         “The word sportswomanship is obviously gender-neutral and covers both women and men.  The world has way too many problems to be offended by language”

·         “MEN!  If you speak up in a meeting and want to be taken seriously, wear a neat hairstyle, a bold color close to your face and don’t forget to lean in.”

·         “To all smart men.  Don’t act dumb around women!  It’s OKAY to be a man and be smart.  Some women actually find it attractive. “

·         “PRO TIP:  If you struggle to get your wife to do her share of the childcare, it could be that you use the wrong tone of voice or you criticize too much.”

·         “Talking to men is a minefield.  You have to avoid touching them, even the young and handsome ones.  Have I got that right?”

·         “I actually don’t mind looking after the kids for an hour or so for my husband.”

·         “Can sports provide a way for boys to see their bodies as powerful rather than flawed?” 

You get the point and it’s a point well made.  Check out his twitter feed or his book. 

Of course these have all been examples of where narratives are untrue and damaging, but narratives aren’t all bad.  

If we give our children a strong narrative about who they are, where they come from and where they are going, that’s important.  If we give one another strong, positive narratives about who we are – that’s huge. 

But even positive narratives contain within themselves the ability for great harm.  The American dream narrative may inspire a person to rise up and make something more of their life, but it also led to manifest destiny and genocide, to the raping of the environment, and to any number of crimes against humanity based on greed.  It can lead to shame and despair for those who believe it is true and just cannot seem to make it happen in their own lives.

So to return to the idea I mentioned at the beginning of this post of a “new male narrative”, in the discussion about this “new male narrative” and what it should be, someone mentioned that Jesus was the ultimate human and did not have a male or female narrative and perhaps this should be the goal instead. 

Immediately, there was a defensive reaction from some who stated we shouldn’t be trying to do away with our male and female differences.   We need strong positive narratives for whatever gender role we identify with.

And I agree.   We shouldn’t try to do away with whatever gender identity we have, and for that we may need positive and life-giving narratives.

And yet, for me, where a gender narrative is concerned, I have difficulty with it.  I personally, don’t want a narrative that is about my female-ness.  I mistrust narratives.  They have not served me well.   I don’t like the way it feels to have a specific narrative for any of the categories and labels that might be attached to me;  female, heterosexual, mom, introverted, sister, scientist, wife, INTJ, Enneagram 5.  I don’t want to be known as a set of categories or narratives, regardless of how positive they may be.   I want to be known as me, Heather.  Not as a narrative.  I want to learn how to move through the world as me, Heather, rather than based on narratives that come from without or within.   

And even that is impossible.  Who is Heather?  She isn’t the same today as yesterday and will not be the same today as tomorrow.

So is an authentic and non-limiting narrative possible?

In our discussion, someone said that the true human narrative, the real non-limiting narrative is the Christ narrative.     Even though Jesus was male and thus had male differences, and probably male narratives, the CHRIST was a different thing and was the ultimate narrative.  

So I’ve been thinking that over.  Is the Christ consciousness the true narrative? 

The Christ consciousness is neither male nor female, neither slave nor free, neither Jew nor Gentile. 

The Christ consciousness was in the beginning and was called the “word” or more literally, the” logos”, the logic, the story, or we could say, the “narrative”. 

The Christ consciousness is the “I am”, which is a great narrative.  Since who we are yesterday is different than who we are now, and who we are now is different than who we will be in the future, the only thing we ever really are who we are at this moment.  The “I am”. 

Those things that make us "male" or "female"; "masculine" or "feminine" are not the Christ consciousness.  They are culture, and biology, and preference, and inclination, and socialization and power structures, systems of meaning and narratives.

As humans, we over-identify with things of the ego, of the flesh, of this world.  We over-identify with our emotions, our thoughts, our bodies, our past, our future, our experiences, and our narratives.   

So it seems to me that perhaps the Christ consciousness is that part of me that transcends all of that.  It is that part of me that is neither male nor female, mom nor child, old nor young, introvert nor extrovert.  It seems to me that it is simply ego that causes me to need to defend my masculinity or femininity or come up with narratives.  What about just stepping outside all that?  What about just opting out of a narrative altogether and just existing in the "I am" space?  

It feels more free there .

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Weeds

weeds.jpg

‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

 

 “‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. 

Parsnips

I garden.  This year for the first time, I planted parsnips.  I love parsnips.  They are sweet and good for you, and I was really looking forward to growing them. 

In the row where they were planted, some little green plants emerged.  But they didn’t look like I expected.  I thought a parsnip seedling would look a lot like a carrot.  These looked like a weed.  Could they be parsnips?  Should I pull them up, or leave them alone? 

So, of course, as anyone would I googled pictures of parsnip seedlings. 

Similar.  

parsnip-seedlings.jpg

 

But I also have this weed that comes up everywhere that looks a lot like that parsnip.  What to do? 

So, I left them. 

And waited.

Turns out they were weeds and my parsnips never sprouted.  

But I thought about the parsnips and how that’s so much like life.  Something arises in life, a circumstance, an opportunity, a hardship.  Something arises in our children, an attitude, an ambition, a behavior.  Something arises in our loved one, a discontentedness, a restlessness, a sadness.  Something arises inside ourselves; an uncertainty, a sorrow, a fear.  

And we are terrified.  We scramble to pluck it, fix it, medicate it, smooth it over.  

It's so hard to just let it sit, let it grow, and see if it’s a parsnip.

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