I was chatting with a friend yesterday about relationships, and we kept arguing and talking past each other about what characterizes a healthy relationship and what signifies a problem. We agreed that respect was a key component — both receiving it and knowing that you deserve it. You'd think that would be a given, but unfortunately, I can say that I've been in a series of relationships where there was a lack of basic respect — from both parties. This is not a pattern I'm interested in perpetuating.
So, as I struggled to point out what I thought characterized respect in a relationship, my friend kept redirecting me, pointing out that the things I was mentioning were just ordinary things that any responsible adult would do, and were not particularly indicative of respect, per se. I suddenly was at a total loss. Did I even know what respect really was, and how that looked in a relationship? I mean, it's pretty obvious when something is wrong in a relationship, but how do you know when things are right?
A little quick research revealed some helpful guidelines.
In a healthy relationship, you:
• Treat each other with respect
• Feel secure and comfortable
• Are not violent with each other
• Can resolve conflicts satisfactorily
• Enjoy the time you spend together
• Support one another
• Take interest in one another's lives: health, family, work, etc.
• Have privacy in the relationship
• Can trust each other
• Are each sexual by choice
• Communicate clearly and openly
• Have letters, phone calls, and e-mail that are your own
• Make healthy decisions about alcohol or other drugs
• Encourage other friendships
• Are honest about your past and present sexual activity if the relationship is intimate
• Know that most people in your life are happy about the relationship
• Have more good times in the relationship than bad
In an unhealthy relationship, one or both of you:
• Try to control or manipulate the other
• Make the other feel bad about her-/himself
• Ridicule or call names
• Dictate how the other dresses
• Do not make time for each other
• Criticize the other's friends
• Are afraid of the other's temper
• Discourage the other from being close with anyone else
• Ignore each other when one is speaking
• Are overly possessive or get jealous about ordinary behavior
• Criticize or support others in criticizing people with your gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, religion, disability, or other personal attribute
• Control the other's money or other resources (e.g., car)
• Harm or threaten to harm children, family, pets, or objects of personal value
• Push, grab, hit, punch, or throw objects
• Use physical force or threats to prevent the other from leaving
This is my new bottom line list for all of my relationships — family, friends and my lover. There have been times when I have not shown respect in relationships, so I'm not pointing any fingers. I am willing to do the work necessary to examine my own behavior and additudes. I can only worry about today, how I will choose to respect those I am in relationship with, and how I will not accept less than the same respect shown to me. It's actually shocking to me that I had to research this, because my relationships have been so dysfunctional, I couldn't even come up with some basic hallmarks of respect. Sigh.
Today I choose to both give and receive respect. Nothing less will do.
The good news is, with a little work from both of us, my partner and I have a great shot at having the healthy relationship that both of us deserve.
November 06, 2007
November 05, 2007
The real dream, and more about love
I had a weird dream last night: I was a cab-driver, and I pulled my cab over to the curb in front of my youngest daughter's school. I stepped out into the rain and walked over to where the kids were playing and found her -- preschool aged in my dream. I had my pillow under my arm and lay down in the street, snuggled against the curb and laying in a puddle. It then occured to me that T probably wouldn't like my putting our freshly washed pillows on the dirty ground in the rain, so I got up and walked over to where MA was playing. She was splashing in a puddle with a tamborine and she handed me a small inflated bat and I began to splash with her. Then I woke up. Interpretations welcome.
•••
I'm still not sure what it was that I was meaning to write about love being a choice — accept to say that I do believe that it often is. I try to choose for love to be what motivates me, particularly when lesser emotions seem to be taking the helm. This conscious act has changed many things in my life. My activism that was once motivated by disgust and anger at our political system (and a certain chimpy in charge) is now motivated by my love of peace and the promise that positive action results in positive growth, both personally and collectively. I only made that connection when I stopped hanging out with anger-driven activists and started attending Pax Christi meetings.
Jesus commanded us to love our enemies. I've always snickered when I've heard that line of scripture in church, because honestly, I've had enough trouble loving the people I'm supposed to love. I have to fight passive-agressive urges, resentment, irritation, and cognitive distortions. I have to stay open and communicative and humbly be able to admit when I've hurt someone and ask for forgiveness, as well as openly talk about what hurts me. It's hard work, but I believe that we are created to live in relationship with each other. If you can continue to do that with the people you are supposed to love — your friends and family — the trick is making the larger world (and even your enemies) a part of your family — if only by meditating on the fact that we're all human and all stuck in this together.
This planting of seeds is more subtle than it first appears
its not just about a dollar to the homeless man
it's about perceiving what's happening in this very moment
and then deliberately choosing to extend love...
— The Gardener, Rebecca Riots
I'm still not sure what it was that I was meaning to write about love being a choice — accept to say that I do believe that it often is. I try to choose for love to be what motivates me, particularly when lesser emotions seem to be taking the helm. This conscious act has changed many things in my life. My activism that was once motivated by disgust and anger at our political system (and a certain chimpy in charge) is now motivated by my love of peace and the promise that positive action results in positive growth, both personally and collectively. I only made that connection when I stopped hanging out with anger-driven activists and started attending Pax Christi meetings.
Jesus commanded us to love our enemies. I've always snickered when I've heard that line of scripture in church, because honestly, I've had enough trouble loving the people I'm supposed to love. I have to fight passive-agressive urges, resentment, irritation, and cognitive distortions. I have to stay open and communicative and humbly be able to admit when I've hurt someone and ask for forgiveness, as well as openly talk about what hurts me. It's hard work, but I believe that we are created to live in relationship with each other. If you can continue to do that with the people you are supposed to love — your friends and family — the trick is making the larger world (and even your enemies) a part of your family — if only by meditating on the fact that we're all human and all stuck in this together.
November 04, 2007
It was almost a dream
I was laying in bed, trying to hit the sack a little early tonight and see if I could take advantage of that extra hour of daylight savings sleep time, but I found myself blogging in my head, only to realize that I hadn't yet blogged today. My dutiful girlfriend gave me just the swift kick mixed with sweetness that I needed as she encouraged me to go type something quick. So, the blog I was writing in my head? I was remembering a homily I heard sometime last year from a young Jesuit. He was talking about love, and how it's more than just an emotion, it's a choice. More later...I'm going back to bed to mull it over.
November 03, 2007
Bad medicine
You can be sure you're on the right track when your challenging yourself to be a better person or quit bad habits, and God sends you more and more tests. I've gotten a couple this weekend and I'm doing my best to pass them, if only by the sheer force of my will. Sure, I raised my fist and said, "yeah right, God, you've got one helluva sense of humor. F**k you." But dammit, I'm gonna pass the test if it kills me. It's gonna taste like bad medicine, but I've had to choke that down before. Just crossing my fingers that there's really some good that can come out of this, and that I'm not just caving in to please other people. Adding resentment to my already-full plate wouldn't be a good idea right now.
November 02, 2007
Santa Muerta
I was talking to T yesteday about blogging, and she mentioned hearing a piece on NPR yesterday that she found fascinating about St. Death, or, Santa Muerta. I first found out about St. Death when I stopped into Augestine's Spirital Goods, a couple of doors down from where I work. Amidst the various icons, herbs, oils and candles, I found little statues of Death — looking very much like the Grim Reaper. As I've read up on her (she is most often depicted in female form), I've thought of her as a balancing aspect to Anima Sola (though I don't think I'll get a matching tattoo). It should be noted that Santa Muerta bears a striking resembelance to the Virgin Mary — and stays true to the Vesica Piscis shape which alludes to the Goddess. Outside the symbology she bears for the Mexican community, for me she symbolizes the veil of death that is patriarchy. She is the woman shrowded in fine cloth, dressed up with nowhere to go. I don't find it a conincidence that many pray to her for release from poverty. Just as this world is veiled in great wealth and riches, the poor are the hidden reality we all must face. It is as unescapable as death.
And speaking of death, I'm headed to the National Musuem of Mexican Art this afternoon to take in the Día de los Muertos exhibit and admire the many ofrendas and maybe even get a calavera or two for the kids.
November 01, 2007
A tidbit to cheer about
Yeah, I'm still in a piss-poor mood, but this made me crack a grin this morning. The Kansas-based Westboro Baptist Church has been ordered to pay $11 million to the family of a dead marine at whose funeral they protested. Yeah, you know these douche bags — the ones who show up at funerals with signs like "Thank God for dead soldiers" because they believe that God hates the gays, and this is his way of letting us know. Hopefully this will throw a bit of a monkey wrench into their travelling circus of hate.
Grey room
I hate to start off NaBloPoMo in such a grumpy mood, but I can assume that if you know me or regularly read my blog, you already know how moody I am. As I lay in bed last night I mapped out what I wanted to write about today, and for the life of me, I can't remember what it was that had me so inspired. All I know is that right now, I'm on the verge of making several enteries here that will assure everyone that I've totally lost it. Civility seems higly overrated today.
I find myself in familiar territory — expected to be the strong one with solutions to problems — but all I really want today is to fall back into strong arms and be held while I cry. I realized that I have to be that person for myself — be very gentle and loving with myself, stay firm in my boundaries when I'm feeling unsafe, and allow myself to be open to whatever comfort the Universe can provide for me. Sometimes all you've got is your pillow and a small window for grace to swoop in and save the day. I'll be listening to sad songs and choking back the tears while I'm at work today until she appears. I hope she doesn't let me down.
I find myself in familiar territory — expected to be the strong one with solutions to problems — but all I really want today is to fall back into strong arms and be held while I cry. I realized that I have to be that person for myself — be very gentle and loving with myself, stay firm in my boundaries when I'm feeling unsafe, and allow myself to be open to whatever comfort the Universe can provide for me. Sometimes all you've got is your pillow and a small window for grace to swoop in and save the day. I'll be listening to sad songs and choking back the tears while I'm at work today until she appears. I hope she doesn't let me down.
October 31, 2007
Sing to the light, and welcome the darkness
Well here it is, the end of October, and I'm brimming with Irish pride.
Last night MR, my oldest daughter, performed at Orchestra Hall with The Cross-Border Orchestra of Ireland. She and her classmates were selected to be part of a 400 student choir that accompanied the Orchestra — made up of Irish students across both sides of the religious and political divide. It was a superb evening, and I beamed with pride, knowing that this was a chance of a lifetime for these students — one that could shape them for years to come. I know that MR carefully studied the flutes, herself in her third year of band. Even the gossiping of The Queen Bees about my arrival with my girlfriend to a school function couldn't put a damper on the night. The sweet sounds of the Uilleann pipes, the fife, and a massive drum unlike anything I've ever seen, put me in the mood to dance a little jig, if only in spirit.
The night served as the perfect lead-in to Halloween — the ultimate in Christo-pagan celebrations. All Hallow's, Sukkot, All Saints, All Souls, Diá de los Muertos, Samháin — whatever you want to call it — across cultures, we humans choose to mark the turning of the year — from light to darkness — with celebrations that honor the harvest and our ancestors who have passed before us. This is the time to collect together all that is fruitful and dispose of what is rotting. As the autumn leaves swirl and death arrives, we notice the chill in the air along with our growing desire to hunker down spiritually and cast off what doesn't serve us. Many of us will turn inward, reflect and meditate more. Examine the darkness within, knowing that doing so prepares you for the promised growth of Spring. And, this should go without saying, but dress up, go trick-or-treating with your favorite ghouls, witches, and tigers, and get a good-sugar high to keep you buzzed through the rest of the week!
October 30, 2007
Black Sheep
I was reflecting on the comments a friend made to my last post, suggesting that if I were seeking approval, well, there's nothing down that road. It's funny, because as I began to think about it and reflect on my life, I think I've consciously risked disapproval more often than sought anyone's stamp of approval. I mean, this blog was originally intended as a place to talk about my struggle within the Catholic church — as the "inside woman" battling patriarchy, even if big results are never seen in my lifetime. So I serve as an openly gay Eucharistic minister, and I find ways to inspire and empower women in my church — whether it be in a faith-sharing group or by participating in the Mary of Magdala feast day celebration.
As an activist who never shys away from speaking out (or blogging) on the issues of the day, I've received my fair share of disapproval from family and friends. When I took my small kids across the country to participate in an anti-war march in frigid NYC temereratures, I was looked at ascance by many.
And as a teenager, I'm sure my father could tell you what a rebel I was. I certainly wasn't seeking his approval! In fact, I think that I've always been more of a leader than a follower, although I'm not really sure if that's how I've been considered. But I guess that's the entire point: I've rarely thought about approval vs. disapproval when I've acted, particularly when my deeply-held values were being expressed.
So what was all the whining then in my last post? Well, while I don't consider myself an approval whore, I do expect a certain level of understanding and faith from the people I care about. I expect to be given the benefit of the doubt. I expect not to be judged too harshly. Still, even given that those things are sometimes unavoidable, (we're all human, afterall) I've learned that changing one's behavior for other people might win you temporary approval, but at the cost of your integrity.
Ask any of my close friends and they'll tell you that there have been times when they've felt the wrath of my judgement. And they'll also tell you how I've changed in the past few years, and realized that my inclination to judge others was really more about me than it was them. Instead now, I reach for compassion and offer what well-meaning advice is asked of me when someone is making bad choices. Nobody's perfect, but I try to be conscious of any judgemental feelings that crop up and ask myself, what is about this situation that is bringing up resistance within me?
And what about my actions bring up resistance and judgement in those close to me?
As an activist who never shys away from speaking out (or blogging) on the issues of the day, I've received my fair share of disapproval from family and friends. When I took my small kids across the country to participate in an anti-war march in frigid NYC temereratures, I was looked at ascance by many.
And as a teenager, I'm sure my father could tell you what a rebel I was. I certainly wasn't seeking his approval! In fact, I think that I've always been more of a leader than a follower, although I'm not really sure if that's how I've been considered. But I guess that's the entire point: I've rarely thought about approval vs. disapproval when I've acted, particularly when my deeply-held values were being expressed.
So what was all the whining then in my last post? Well, while I don't consider myself an approval whore, I do expect a certain level of understanding and faith from the people I care about. I expect to be given the benefit of the doubt. I expect not to be judged too harshly. Still, even given that those things are sometimes unavoidable, (we're all human, afterall) I've learned that changing one's behavior for other people might win you temporary approval, but at the cost of your integrity.
Ask any of my close friends and they'll tell you that there have been times when they've felt the wrath of my judgement. And they'll also tell you how I've changed in the past few years, and realized that my inclination to judge others was really more about me than it was them. Instead now, I reach for compassion and offer what well-meaning advice is asked of me when someone is making bad choices. Nobody's perfect, but I try to be conscious of any judgemental feelings that crop up and ask myself, what is about this situation that is bringing up resistance within me?
And what about my actions bring up resistance and judgement in those close to me?
October 29, 2007
Compass
Sometimes it just kills me. No matter how many times I choose integrity, honesty and faith over fear — I just can't win. All I can do is pray that the things I am doing are good for me because they certainly don't make anyone else in my life happy.
But how can I even trust that I am making the right choices and doing the right things? I mean, I feel good about the choices I have made, but again and again, I am met with anger and distrust instead of understanding and support. I mean, have I been such an asshole in my life that I'm just not the sort that anyone trusts or has any faith in? Am I really just that much of a disappointment? I know I have made mistakes and I've always tried to make ammends. I can admit when I'm wrong and that I've stumbled in the past. Shouldn't that count for something?
I'm always expecting a warm hug and some encouraging words — and getting scolded and shamed instead. I'm left feeling completely blindsided. Will the past always be thrown in my face despite turning over a new leaf? How long do others get to define me? When can I be in charge of being who I am? Tonight I feel adrift at sea without a compass. Anyone got one I can borrow?
But how can I even trust that I am making the right choices and doing the right things? I mean, I feel good about the choices I have made, but again and again, I am met with anger and distrust instead of understanding and support. I mean, have I been such an asshole in my life that I'm just not the sort that anyone trusts or has any faith in? Am I really just that much of a disappointment? I know I have made mistakes and I've always tried to make ammends. I can admit when I'm wrong and that I've stumbled in the past. Shouldn't that count for something?
I'm always expecting a warm hug and some encouraging words — and getting scolded and shamed instead. I'm left feeling completely blindsided. Will the past always be thrown in my face despite turning over a new leaf? How long do others get to define me? When can I be in charge of being who I am? Tonight I feel adrift at sea without a compass. Anyone got one I can borrow?
October 23, 2007
A new day
Yesterday I had an epiphany. Maybe it took a little inspiration from friends who are battling their own demons, or maybe I just needed get a little grace to focus and name what it is that has haunted me, so that I can finally let it go. I have to admit, I feel a sense of shame at having come to this point so late. I could have saved myself a lot of grief by arriving sooner at this point where I am ready to release yet more old baggage.
We've all got baggage, and I have volumes of compassion for what other people have been through in their lives — how it has shaped them and what they have struggled to overcome. But I have never been so gentle with myself. Is it ok for me to finally admit that I too have wounds? That I've been betrayed by people I trusted and it has left me with deep scars? I need to really just give myself permission to say that, without feeling guilty that I have let other people have varying amounts of control over me at times in my life, or that I've wallowed in pain for too long, so that I can finally move on. I don't want to drag around the baggage that has been thrust upon me anymore. Nothing fruitful is there. I want a clean slate, so that I can focus on all that is truly soul-sustaining in my life: all the love and friendship and sisterhood around me. True love. Raising happy and vibrant girls. Filling up my cup so that I can pour it out on those deserving. I have wasted too much time and energy trusting those that didn't deserve it, and witholding trust from those who do.
So, I realized in the past two days that I have a choice before me: I can be the walking-wounded, or I can save myself. And fundamentally, I love myself too much to allow myself to be ruined. I've seen too many ruined people in my lifetime.
I want to love openly and freely and unencumbered by past experiences. I want to trust so completely that all fear vanishes. I want to live every day with integrity and honesty. I want hope and passion and unconditional love to surround me every day, and I want to surround those I love with that too.
Today I choose me. I choose life. I choose love.
We've all got baggage, and I have volumes of compassion for what other people have been through in their lives — how it has shaped them and what they have struggled to overcome. But I have never been so gentle with myself. Is it ok for me to finally admit that I too have wounds? That I've been betrayed by people I trusted and it has left me with deep scars? I need to really just give myself permission to say that, without feeling guilty that I have let other people have varying amounts of control over me at times in my life, or that I've wallowed in pain for too long, so that I can finally move on. I don't want to drag around the baggage that has been thrust upon me anymore. Nothing fruitful is there. I want a clean slate, so that I can focus on all that is truly soul-sustaining in my life: all the love and friendship and sisterhood around me. True love. Raising happy and vibrant girls. Filling up my cup so that I can pour it out on those deserving. I have wasted too much time and energy trusting those that didn't deserve it, and witholding trust from those who do.
So, I realized in the past two days that I have a choice before me: I can be the walking-wounded, or I can save myself. And fundamentally, I love myself too much to allow myself to be ruined. I've seen too many ruined people in my lifetime.
I want to love openly and freely and unencumbered by past experiences. I want to trust so completely that all fear vanishes. I want to live every day with integrity and honesty. I want hope and passion and unconditional love to surround me every day, and I want to surround those I love with that too.
Today I choose me. I choose life. I choose love.
October 22, 2007
At the intersection...
Two things made me smile broadly this weekend. First, my oldest daughter (M.R.) rushed into the kitchen while T and I were cooking dinner and exclaimed, "Mom, M.A. and J and I were making a Venn diagram and we found some great similarities!" I only remember that one of the categories was "chimpanzee" and the other something very disparate, but it just made my day that we've got the type of kids who get excited about such things.
Second, I learned this morning (and a little later than the rest of the free world) that Aldus Dumbledore is gay. But what really made me happy was the reaction of M.R. — who was positvely elated. She's been getting more and more comfortable with reavealing my sexuality to her friends, and this came as a huge boon to her. Dumbledore, after all, is on of the most beloved characters in more than a generation. I applaud JK Rowling for the reveal, even though it's not really touched on directly in her books. But now kids everywhere have a "gay friend." Not to mention that it will drive the crazy christians absolutely insane.
Second, I learned this morning (and a little later than the rest of the free world) that Aldus Dumbledore is gay. But what really made me happy was the reaction of M.R. — who was positvely elated. She's been getting more and more comfortable with reavealing my sexuality to her friends, and this came as a huge boon to her. Dumbledore, after all, is on of the most beloved characters in more than a generation. I applaud JK Rowling for the reveal, even though it's not really touched on directly in her books. But now kids everywhere have a "gay friend." Not to mention that it will drive the crazy christians absolutely insane.
October 18, 2007
Out There
It seems that Cardinal George's feathers have been ruffled by DePaul University's courageous hosting of the 2nd annual Out There connference. The conference, which seeks to "address a wide range of issues of relevance to LGBTQ faculty, staff, and students at Catholic institutions, from nuts-and-bolts organizing in student services to the place of LGBTQ Studies at Catholic universities and the challenges of Catholic identity for LGBTQ individuals," will be held Oct. 19th and 20th.
Cardinal George's concern? That some of the speakers might "move from reflection to advocacy," in suggesting that LGBTQ Catholics press for changes in the moral law or form groups that ignore the magisterium. In my opinion, we don't need to form groups that ignore the hierarchy — most Catholics have been doing that already for ages, particulary on matters of sex. Furthermore, to reduce the entire conference to a focus on whether or not LGTBQ Catholics are encouraged to "live chastely" is yet another example of the church's failure to see the myriad of issues that affect LGBTQ Catholics and focus on sex as a "grave sin."
George's recent Archdiocesan article reads like an admonishment of anyone who would give pastoral support to LGBTQ Catholics without making it clear to them that they are expected to live celibately. Not only does he posit this as the Catholic moral code, but he goes so far as to state that "even non-religious" accept "the sexual complementarity of men and women is built into the morphology of our bodies and into the very purpose of sexual acts." So anything other than the perfect yin-yang of man-woman is therefore a mortal sin? Wouldn't celibacy therefore also be a sin, since it negates the "perfect union" that God has calls us to? And if not, is repression what God demands of anyone with the "inclinations" that Cardinal George fears "put our salvation at risk?" Has George learned nothing from the scandals that have rocked the Church these past years?
Cardinal George's concern? That some of the speakers might "move from reflection to advocacy," in suggesting that LGBTQ Catholics press for changes in the moral law or form groups that ignore the magisterium. In my opinion, we don't need to form groups that ignore the hierarchy — most Catholics have been doing that already for ages, particulary on matters of sex. Furthermore, to reduce the entire conference to a focus on whether or not LGTBQ Catholics are encouraged to "live chastely" is yet another example of the church's failure to see the myriad of issues that affect LGBTQ Catholics and focus on sex as a "grave sin."
George's recent Archdiocesan article reads like an admonishment of anyone who would give pastoral support to LGBTQ Catholics without making it clear to them that they are expected to live celibately. Not only does he posit this as the Catholic moral code, but he goes so far as to state that "even non-religious" accept "the sexual complementarity of men and women is built into the morphology of our bodies and into the very purpose of sexual acts." So anything other than the perfect yin-yang of man-woman is therefore a mortal sin? Wouldn't celibacy therefore also be a sin, since it negates the "perfect union" that God has calls us to? And if not, is repression what God demands of anyone with the "inclinations" that Cardinal George fears "put our salvation at risk?" Has George learned nothing from the scandals that have rocked the Church these past years?
October 16, 2007
Supposed soul-gazers
She wrote:
leaning closely
upon my soul
—with her soul
dazed my eyes
that double flame
I believe, but cannot prove…
…that when I look into her eyes, I am indeed leaning with my soul — past cornea and sparkling blue iris, past lens and retina — locked in a gaze that touches a mystery that she cannot comprehend, accept to conjure words that she herself doubts the existence of.
But in the ecstasy and doubt of that sacred moment is the truth of faith. Soul. Soul. There is no other word for what we have leaned upon in each other. Unfocused, we linger and dance there, dazed by the double-flame brilliance of unexpected soul. Who would believe it? There is no proof. Down to the unique essence of all that she is.
leaning closely
upon my soul
—with her soul
dazed my eyes
that double flame
I believe, but cannot prove…
…that when I look into her eyes, I am indeed leaning with my soul — past cornea and sparkling blue iris, past lens and retina — locked in a gaze that touches a mystery that she cannot comprehend, accept to conjure words that she herself doubts the existence of.
But in the ecstasy and doubt of that sacred moment is the truth of faith. Soul. Soul. There is no other word for what we have leaned upon in each other. Unfocused, we linger and dance there, dazed by the double-flame brilliance of unexpected soul. Who would believe it? There is no proof. Down to the unique essence of all that she is.
October 15, 2007
Empirical evidence
I got into a conversation with my girlfriend this weekend as we sat in
my parked car just about to go into the 10am mass together. She has a
hard time understanding why anyone would base their lives around a set
of beliefs that can not be empirically proven. For my part, I love some
hard evidence just as much as the next gal, but I'm comfortable filling
in the gaps where there is no proof with my faith. I couldn't really
get out what I wanted to say (I'm blaming the current mercury
retrograde), and only managed to defend my philosophy by spouting some
post-modernist retort about finding truth within many faith traditions
and taking what was valuable and disposing of the rest. That seemed to
heat her up even more, as she sees this kind of "cherry-picking" as the
source of all that is wrong with religion, because just as I am
interested in choosing what is valuable to me, others (and entire
faiths) seem to focus on values that are antithetical to anything I'd
relate to, and in many cases, are used for great evil in our world. Not to mention that my own beliefs are quite different than what anyone would regard as typically Catholic, yet that is where I show up every Sunday. I ended up murmuring something about not being a "sheep."
I want to write more about this soon. It's bringing up all sorts of questions
and ideas that I've wrestled with before — everything from the
existence of absolute truth vs. relativism to our human need to
discover what is sacred and mysterious outside of the world of facts
and evidence. I want to explore what role doubt has for the faithful —
and how a lack of doubt is what I believe is missing
within some faith traditions.
Stay tuned. I think I'm on to something, but I need a little time to work it all out in my head first.
my parked car just about to go into the 10am mass together. She has a
hard time understanding why anyone would base their lives around a set
of beliefs that can not be empirically proven. For my part, I love some
hard evidence just as much as the next gal, but I'm comfortable filling
in the gaps where there is no proof with my faith. I couldn't really
get out what I wanted to say (I'm blaming the current mercury
retrograde), and only managed to defend my philosophy by spouting some
post-modernist retort about finding truth within many faith traditions
and taking what was valuable and disposing of the rest. That seemed to
heat her up even more, as she sees this kind of "cherry-picking" as the
source of all that is wrong with religion, because just as I am
interested in choosing what is valuable to me, others (and entire
faiths) seem to focus on values that are antithetical to anything I'd
relate to, and in many cases, are used for great evil in our world. Not to mention that my own beliefs are quite different than what anyone would regard as typically Catholic, yet that is where I show up every Sunday. I ended up murmuring something about not being a "sheep."
I want to write more about this soon. It's bringing up all sorts of questions
and ideas that I've wrestled with before — everything from the
existence of absolute truth vs. relativism to our human need to
discover what is sacred and mysterious outside of the world of facts
and evidence. I want to explore what role doubt has for the faithful —
and how a lack of doubt is what I believe is missing
within some faith traditions.
Stay tuned. I think I'm on to something, but I need a little time to work it all out in my head first.
October 13, 2007
Looking for the arbiter of justice?
Something a friend said to me yesterday is really sticking with me today. She and I were discussing my need to defend myself when feeling attacked and manipulated, when someone is bombarding you with re-written versions of a shared history that (of course) exonerate themselves from any responsibility. She put it to me plainly: I am not god and I am not Wonder Woman. I am not the arbiter of justice. I never have been and never will be. Let the burden of that fall on someone else's shoulders. My atheist friend then suggested that I pray.
It's funny how my friend and I are able to bring into focus for each other the things that are so blurry to us in our own relationships. It's no coincidence that we've both struggled with abandonment issues and feel a tremendous sense of guilt when we have to make healthy choices that cut us off from people we care about. She says it's because when we were children, we didn't have the choice to ever leave — being dependent on the dysfunctional adults that had to care for us. But what gets to me even more is the fact that if I can (healthily) choose to walk away from a relationship, couldn't that have been the same choice that others made when they in turn walked away from me? I have come to accept that my mother's leaving when I was a child was a desperate act of self-preservation on her part. But the little girl inside still takes that personally.
I don't have the answers and I'm not always sure how to proceed. For now, I am taking my friend's advice and praying. I've done a good amount of healing in the past few years and I have a lot of faith that everything that happens in my life is exactly what I need. And I am so overwhelmingly grateful for the many blessings in my life, I can't help but want to focus my energy on the things that bring me light rather than add to the darkness. And I have found that it is the light that brings the most healing, not combating the darkness. Better to light a candle than curse the darkness, right? I've spent years wading through the darkness and you know what, it doesn't do any good. And for once, I'm happy to realize that the burden isn't mine. I am god and I am not Wonder Woman.
It's funny how my friend and I are able to bring into focus for each other the things that are so blurry to us in our own relationships. It's no coincidence that we've both struggled with abandonment issues and feel a tremendous sense of guilt when we have to make healthy choices that cut us off from people we care about. She says it's because when we were children, we didn't have the choice to ever leave — being dependent on the dysfunctional adults that had to care for us. But what gets to me even more is the fact that if I can (healthily) choose to walk away from a relationship, couldn't that have been the same choice that others made when they in turn walked away from me? I have come to accept that my mother's leaving when I was a child was a desperate act of self-preservation on her part. But the little girl inside still takes that personally.
I don't have the answers and I'm not always sure how to proceed. For now, I am taking my friend's advice and praying. I've done a good amount of healing in the past few years and I have a lot of faith that everything that happens in my life is exactly what I need. And I am so overwhelmingly grateful for the many blessings in my life, I can't help but want to focus my energy on the things that bring me light rather than add to the darkness. And I have found that it is the light that brings the most healing, not combating the darkness. Better to light a candle than curse the darkness, right? I've spent years wading through the darkness and you know what, it doesn't do any good. And for once, I'm happy to realize that the burden isn't mine. I am god and I am not Wonder Woman.
October 11, 2007
Forever
The dreams and sensations of Delle have been so strong in the last week, I found myself today reviewing emails that she sent out a year ago. A year ago today, she told her friends that it was time to go into Hospice care — that her almost four-year battle with Ovarian cancer would soon be over. "The squatter," as she called it, was winning the battle within her body, leaving her weak and resigned.
She visited me again last night. I was sitting with her in her room, just chatting away about life. I was always so dependent and so grateful for her wisdom and guidance! But these days, when the anniversary of her death is looming just around the corner, I find that the sense of her does not leave me when I wake. She is with me again, just as she was in the days after her death when I could feel her all around me. Why has she come back? Is there something I need to know or realize or understand? Or is her presence now only the residue of a heart's memory? Or the longing of a soul that has felt lost at sea without her navigator?
"Either we believe in eternal life or we don't," she chided us one year ago today. She wouldn't tolerate tears or a fuss being made. She didn't want to have to live our grief with us, it was just too overwhelming for her. Actress that she was, she kept herself together in those last days, careful not to reveal her suffering — propped on her fluffy bed of white linens and wearing a long starched nightgown. I was so grateful to spend an afternoon with her, and even more so to come back again the next day with the Eucharist — where she revealed her secrets and shared her suffering with me: her swollen legs, her white tounge, the ever-constant pain and the long draws for breath.
I don't spend much time thinking about heaven or hell — but on days like today, I pray that heaven is real, that we will all be together again someday, that God is merciful. The tears have begun and I expect there will be more in the coming days. Believing in eternity lessens the blow, takes a bit of death's sting away. I need the comfort of that belief today. I haven't had a good track record of faith in the concept of forever. But I want to believe that it's possible more than anything right now.
She visited me again last night. I was sitting with her in her room, just chatting away about life. I was always so dependent and so grateful for her wisdom and guidance! But these days, when the anniversary of her death is looming just around the corner, I find that the sense of her does not leave me when I wake. She is with me again, just as she was in the days after her death when I could feel her all around me. Why has she come back? Is there something I need to know or realize or understand? Or is her presence now only the residue of a heart's memory? Or the longing of a soul that has felt lost at sea without her navigator?
"Either we believe in eternal life or we don't," she chided us one year ago today. She wouldn't tolerate tears or a fuss being made. She didn't want to have to live our grief with us, it was just too overwhelming for her. Actress that she was, she kept herself together in those last days, careful not to reveal her suffering — propped on her fluffy bed of white linens and wearing a long starched nightgown. I was so grateful to spend an afternoon with her, and even more so to come back again the next day with the Eucharist — where she revealed her secrets and shared her suffering with me: her swollen legs, her white tounge, the ever-constant pain and the long draws for breath.
I don't spend much time thinking about heaven or hell — but on days like today, I pray that heaven is real, that we will all be together again someday, that God is merciful. The tears have begun and I expect there will be more in the coming days. Believing in eternity lessens the blow, takes a bit of death's sting away. I need the comfort of that belief today. I haven't had a good track record of faith in the concept of forever. But I want to believe that it's possible more than anything right now.
October 09, 2007
What would Jesus do — if his kid were gay?
Just stumbled across Salon's review of "For the Bible Tells Me So," a indie-documentary that tells the stories of several Christian families who are dealing with their adult children's homosexuality. Most notable is the story of Chrissy Gephardt, lesbian daughter of Dick Gephardt, former senator and presidential candidate from Missouri.
Aside from the griping personal stories, the film confronts the book of Leviticus — where homosexuality is descirbed as "an abomination" — and reminds us that Leviticus also condemns the eating of shellfish and the wearing of wool-blends. One can only conclude that a 4,000 year old ritual tradition of a people fighting for survival in the desert, doesn't really resonate with our modern lives. That is unless your a fundamentalist. But then you wouldn't be dragged kicking and screaming to such a film. Too bad, because those are just the folks who might benefit from this inspiring and sympathetic film.
"For the Bible Tells Me So" opened Oct. 5 at the Quad Cinema in New York, Oct. 12 in Boston, Lake Worth, Fla., Los Angeles, Minneapolis, Palm Springs, Calif., Philadelphia, San Diego, San Francisco and Springfield, Mo.; Oct. 19 in Athens, Ga., Atlanta, Columbia, S.C., Dallas, Denver, Houston, Memphis, New Orleans, Rochester, N.Y., Salt Lake City, Santa Fe, N.M. and Austin, Texas, with more cities to follow.
Aside from the griping personal stories, the film confronts the book of Leviticus — where homosexuality is descirbed as "an abomination" — and reminds us that Leviticus also condemns the eating of shellfish and the wearing of wool-blends. One can only conclude that a 4,000 year old ritual tradition of a people fighting for survival in the desert, doesn't really resonate with our modern lives. That is unless your a fundamentalist. But then you wouldn't be dragged kicking and screaming to such a film. Too bad, because those are just the folks who might benefit from this inspiring and sympathetic film.
"For the Bible Tells Me So" opened Oct. 5 at the Quad Cinema in New York, Oct. 12 in Boston, Lake Worth, Fla., Los Angeles, Minneapolis, Palm Springs, Calif., Philadelphia, San Diego, San Francisco and Springfield, Mo.; Oct. 19 in Athens, Ga., Atlanta, Columbia, S.C., Dallas, Denver, Houston, Memphis, New Orleans, Rochester, N.Y., Salt Lake City, Santa Fe, N.M. and Austin, Texas, with more cities to follow.
October 03, 2007
Glossing over it, Part II
So I went to my Gay and Lesbian Faith-sharing Group last night — and can I just first say how cool it is that such a group even exists on Catholic property in the city of Chicago? And what an awesome and faithful group it was. I felt very welcomed, despite my nervousness and realization that the room we were meeting in was the room I used to lead the R.C.I.A. faith-sharing group in, as well as the room where I attended my first (and only) AlaNon meeting. It was ironic of course, because this was a little of both: faith-sharing and support.
So for now at least, I've found my fellow travelers on this Catholic path. It is deeply edifying to share spiritually with other queer Catholics and feel supported in my coming out process. We prayed together, listened to each other's stories and struggles, read the gospel and picked it apart — getting down to how it speaks to us personally. I feel blessed to part of such a welcoming community, and grateful that our new priest has continued the tradition that Fr. B established of welcoming everyone and encouraging openness. None of us ever have to hide within this community of faith.
They're also planning some fun social gatherings in the near future, so I'm really looking forward to building more community.
So for now at least, I've found my fellow travelers on this Catholic path. It is deeply edifying to share spiritually with other queer Catholics and feel supported in my coming out process. We prayed together, listened to each other's stories and struggles, read the gospel and picked it apart — getting down to how it speaks to us personally. I feel blessed to part of such a welcoming community, and grateful that our new priest has continued the tradition that Fr. B established of welcoming everyone and encouraging openness. None of us ever have to hide within this community of faith.
They're also planning some fun social gatherings in the near future, so I'm really looking forward to building more community.
September 30, 2007
Glossing over it....
It's been said that God works in mysterious ways. Personally, I believe God has one heluva sense of humor. As I found myself in the 5th pew (Mary side) of St. G's at today's 10am mass, I was happy to see what I have been scoping out for nearly a year posted in the church bulletin: a GLOS meeting. That this comes on the heels of my questioning what exactly I'm doing in this church is no suprise to me. Mysterious ways are something I've come to count on.
Since I started slowly coming out to my fellow parishoners not quite a year ago, I figured it would make sense to come out to the several gay parishoners that I know first. But I somehow got it in my head that coming to a meeting of the Gay and Lesbian Outreach and Support group that my church hosts would be the easiest way to do this. So I scoped out the bulletin, knowing that they held regular meetings, but never saw any announced. And as more and more time passed with me holding out for this meeting — and interacting with several of said gay parishoners — I kept finding myself glossing over it or avoiding it completely. They'll just figure it out on their own, I rationalized. Or word will just spread and they'll know. Everyone must know by now, I hoped.
And then after a lot of time passed, I just thought it was weird that I had never come out to any of the gay members of my parish and wondered what exactly I was so afraid of. Maybe I was just afraid that I had waited too long, remembering my friend D coming out to me years ago and me remarking, "yeah we all already knew that."
So not only did I finally see an anouncement for a GLOS meeting, but the parish was having a ministry fair and GLOS had a table set up. I made my way over to the table to put my name on the list for wanting to participate. What happened next was so comedic and awkward that it resembled a scene from a movie. As I picked up the pen to sign my name, W, (the parish business manager, who together with his partner B have three adopted children, one of which is in the same class as my eldest) went to grab the pen out of my hand and said, "Uh, take a look at what you're signing there." I didn't look up and said, "yeah, I see what I'm signing." An awkward conversation followed where I confessed that it had been hard for me to come out to the parish community, and he offered his support, saying we'd talk later.
So Tuesday night is the meeting, and I'm going to do what I can to get there and complete this process that I've been avoiding for too long. No glossing over it at the GLOS meeting.
Since I started slowly coming out to my fellow parishoners not quite a year ago, I figured it would make sense to come out to the several gay parishoners that I know first. But I somehow got it in my head that coming to a meeting of the Gay and Lesbian Outreach and Support group that my church hosts would be the easiest way to do this. So I scoped out the bulletin, knowing that they held regular meetings, but never saw any announced. And as more and more time passed with me holding out for this meeting — and interacting with several of said gay parishoners — I kept finding myself glossing over it or avoiding it completely. They'll just figure it out on their own, I rationalized. Or word will just spread and they'll know. Everyone must know by now, I hoped.
And then after a lot of time passed, I just thought it was weird that I had never come out to any of the gay members of my parish and wondered what exactly I was so afraid of. Maybe I was just afraid that I had waited too long, remembering my friend D coming out to me years ago and me remarking, "yeah we all already knew that."
So not only did I finally see an anouncement for a GLOS meeting, but the parish was having a ministry fair and GLOS had a table set up. I made my way over to the table to put my name on the list for wanting to participate. What happened next was so comedic and awkward that it resembled a scene from a movie. As I picked up the pen to sign my name, W, (the parish business manager, who together with his partner B have three adopted children, one of which is in the same class as my eldest) went to grab the pen out of my hand and said, "Uh, take a look at what you're signing there." I didn't look up and said, "yeah, I see what I'm signing." An awkward conversation followed where I confessed that it had been hard for me to come out to the parish community, and he offered his support, saying we'd talk later.
So Tuesday night is the meeting, and I'm going to do what I can to get there and complete this process that I've been avoiding for too long. No glossing over it at the GLOS meeting.
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