Squash or Celebrate?

This morning was a hot mess. We were late. My 3 year old granddaughter, who I call Pixie, decided to have a potty emergency five minutes AFTER we should have walked out the door. So, back into the house we went to change clothes, use the potty, wash everyone's hands, and try again.

Once all that was resolved, we were off (now 10 minutes late) to the Unitarian Universalist church that I've attended off and on for more than a decade. For those that aren't familiar with the idea of UU-ism, here's an oversimplified answer: UUs value everyone, regardless of any human characteristic. They welcome straight as well as LGBTQ+, atheists or any other religious (or lack of ) belief system..in short, ALL people are welcomed. They believe that diversity improves the world. They also embody a social justice perspective of tolerance, acceptance, and social action. For obvious reasons, I appreciate the open community.

We arrived just after the service had begun, missing the announcements, prelude, and welcome, but making it for the bulk. The children are always in the service until after they have special time with the worship leader (may be the minister or a lay leader, depending). This happens just about 1/3 of the way through the service. So, the schedule is something like this:
Musical Prelude (Music for Gathering)
Welcome
Announcements
Chalice Lighting
Hymn of the Month

It was during the Hymn of the Month...the first participatory song in the service that I had a moment of epiphany.

My Pixie was, as is her custom, dancing around while the congregation sang.

We were all the way in the very back, (of course) being latecomers, but the church was pretty full, so we were joined by others in that section.

And, for the first time, my hands weren't full with her baby brother, so I noticed things...

People were looking.

Some were smiling and swaying.

Some were scowling, clearly displeased that my beautiful granddaughter was out of her seat or moved by music.

Oblivious, Pixie twirled around and around. In three year old fashion, she bumped into an empty chair with little effect. She wasn't daunted and kept right on twirling, her face a mask of concentration and flow....purely invested in her dance.

And, two things happened simultaneously in my brain:
1. I smiled and was in awe for a minute or two of her complete safe embrace in the moment. Her self-possession was both charming and powerful.
2. I was tempted to snatch her back, hiss at her to sit down and be still. It was, after all, what would have been done to me. It was, undoubtedly, what I did with my own (now grown) children. Children were to be still, silent, polite, "seen and not heard."

I was horrified on more than one plane:
1. I felt tremendous shame that I'd forced my own children into the quiet box where creativity and self-expression were not allowed.
2. I felt fear to not force Pixie in the same box ... what if she can't function in society? What if she can't make friends? What if? ...yes, I recognize the idiocy of this, but it is a real fear.

In my own life, some level of conforming was required in order for me to be successful in my career, in my neighborhood, and in my life at large.

Where's the balance?

How do we decide what to encourage and what to correct?

Why do we need these norms and rules, anyway?

No, I will not allow my grandchildren to be wild, rude, and inconsiderate. I draw clear lines there. I believe in being polite and kind. I believe in cooperation and humility. Compassion is one of my core values and will be largely celebrated.

But, isn't the sweeping insecurity and epidemic of low self-esteem largely due to our forced rules, desperate and counterproductive socialization techniques, and desire to control children? Even our laws require that caregivers exercise "care, custody, and control" over children.

And, not expecting it, I am now a middle-aged woman grappling with the big questions of child-rearing, again. And, I expect I'll answer them quite differently than I did the first time.

Celebrate EVERYTHING.

Teach kindness.

Demonstrate compassion.

keep it moving

For much of my adult life, I maintained an ecofeminist perspective. Half of you are probably baffled by what that means. In short (and this is the most rudimentary explanation), it means that I had a girl god and I believed in the power and importance of nature. I also believed that nature is somewhat feminine in characteristic and that women are responsible for protecting the earth's resources, as a result. Before other ecofeminists jump down my throat for that somewhat skewed and incredibly simplistic explanation... JUST STOP. Its not the point, anyway, so doesn't need to be beleaguered.

I found myself quite entrenched in a somewhat comparable religious community, where I never quite fit. Ever. I kept the feminist perspective and was introduced to the Red Tent Temple Movement, the Goddess Spirituality Movement, and dozens of others. And, still, I never quite fit. I had some shared understanding, but mostly was disappointed by the lack of ethical codes, morality, and a proliferation of infighting and ego battles.

My core beliefs are these:
1. All things are made of energy -- the SAME energy. Therefore, all things are connected and impact upon one another.
2. Kindness, compassion, and humility are absolutely necessary for each person to strive toward.
3. There is no one truth. There is only my truth.
4. Self-fulfilling prophecies are real.
5. Each person creates their own reality through their thoughts, feelings, and behaviors.
6. Everyone is responsible for their own choices, and the consequences of those choices.
7. There is a plan. We can mess up that plan via stubbornness and failure to follow our intended path. (No, I don't think the path is paved...more ambiguous than that.)
8. People enter our lives because they are supposed to. We have lessons to learn and teach in this life.
9. Every single thing has a purpose and meaning.
10. The universe is intelligent.
11. There are no gender roles (they are culturally created and enforced concepts that don't really exist in the natural world). There's no girl god or boy god. There's only GOD. Its bigger than gender. Its bigger and more mysterious than some reflection of human characteristics.

Yes, I'm comfortably in the new age, metaphysical perspective. And, yes, my American Indian and northern Euro mystic heritages play a part in my thoughts. Yes, I'm totally fine with that. No, I didn't fit well in my previous community. Yes, I left it. Yes, I'm a little sad about it. Yes, I let go of everyone who I don't have a real relationship with, or with whom I wouldn't spend time with aside from religious interaction.

I imagine this is very much like someone who left one worship home and went to another for whatever irreconcilable differences they experienced at their previous house of worship. Its sad. There are people you will miss. But, its usually a reflection of deeper self awareness and understanding. I don't like labels. I don't want to be a part of any religious community that requires me to use a variety of monikers to identify myself, or to smash myself into any belief system.

But, the real, bottom-line issue is: I don't want to be a part of any religious community where I cannot, will not share common values (or lack of) with the larger segment. I will carve out my own world where I find commonality, I guess. For now, I'll call myself a 'seeker.'

And, on the travels go. Because, I needn't worry about spiritual growth, as long as I keep it moving....

why i make art to abandon...

I'm controlling. Its true. I know that my desire to control comes from a place of anxiety...deep fear that came about in times when my life was unmanageable, uncertain, and unwieldy.

Those are nice words. I've a tendency to minimize and use tact when truth is hard.

There were times in my life that I actually feared for my existence because a larger, stronger person threatened to take it away in a manner that assured me that they had both the capacity and the intent to do so, should they get tired of me.

There were times when my life was so chaotic and discombobulated that I didn't know what might happen from minute to minute. Then, being the good masochist that I am, I worked in a career that provided me with the opportunity to experience the trauma and fear of other people, particularly vulnerable people, in a close and immediate way. This sometimes also endangered my own physical well-being.

Is it any surprise to anyone that I like predictability? Serenity? Or, that I struggle with flexibility and release? I don't let go well. I don't like it when things don't go as I expect. I'm sure there are some people out there, right now, saying, "Oh! I LOVE surprises!" Well, bully for you. Really. I hate them.

For as long as I can remember, I've made art -- paintings and sketches, drawings and doodles, poetry and prose, stories, clothing, embroidery, shoes, furniture, and countless other things that employed creativity. I've sold some and gifted some, lost some, trashed some, donated, and redone.

But, now, I abandon them. Yep. I leave them in public places with a tag that says free art. (It says more than that, but the point is the same.) Its not my original thought. I bumbled onto a Facebook page called Art Abandonment...check it out, if you like....and, there was this concept...this worldwide movement based on a book...where artists (professional and rudimentary) just leave their art laying around in an attempt to spread a little good will. Some of the pieces are so simple, some are so intricate...jewelry, line drawings, colored pictures, painted rocks...the idea is all the same -- people trying to offer something good to the world, trying to lift the vibration of love by being generous and kind, by sharing a small part of themselves (this is what art IS, after all, don't you think?).

I fell in love with the concept, and began abandoning immediately. I sign only my first name and give no way to find me. I do include the info on the Facebook page and the email they maintain in case people want to report their finds or join in the leaving.

And, guess what happened?

The first time, I abandoned in another town that I don't frequent, drove away, and was OK. I wondered if someone found the piece, but was content that the universe would see it got to the right person. The second time, I got nervous...The art wasn't picked up right away. My insecurities flared crazily...

Its not good enough even to be free. I'm unwanted. Why am I creating trash that someone has to clean up?

Oh, yes. I went there. Then, I got distracted (thank goodness for my busy brain) for a while, and when my thoughts wandered back, I said a little prayer that whoever wanted it would find it, and I had to accept that maybe they'd find it in the landfill if that was what was in the plan. That got my head back in the right place.

I made the mistake, once, of abandoning in my own town. I drove back three times to see if it was still there. (It was.) And, I finally had to repeat my little prayer and make a deal with myself to not drive back there for a week. (I did bribe myself with ice cream. Hey! We all need a little motivation. Don't judge.)

I've abandoned several, since. I don't drop in my town anymore. The temptation to go look is too much. I do post most drops to the Facebook group, because I love it. I've got five pieces in various stages of process that will be abandoned.

No, I don't keep it or sell it if it turns out great. Yes, there are some pieces that I'm reluctant to abandon. I do it, anyway. This is really about learning release for me, you know, in the process of being kind to the world. Its also about faith -- faith that this has a purpose (as do I), faith that it matters (to them and to me), faith that the universe works things out without my insane attempts to control everything.

So, I'll keep doing my thing, learning to let go and let guidance of spirit run things.

Blessed be.

Sex, Gender, Gender Identity...Oh My!

The older I get, the more I become aware of constructs that are so insidious, so pervasive in our society, that we accept them as fact without investigation or even contemplation...

One such construct is the idea of gender. Sex and gender are frequently used interchangeably, but they're not at all the same. Sex is biological. I am female because I have the reproductive organs of a woman...vagina, uterus, ova, etc. I was born female. I'm not upset about that. In fact, I quite enjoy it.

But, the only thing that my biological sex determines is the role I may play in the procreation process. That's it. And, that is (of course) contingent upon my being born with a complete, functional set of sex organs AND finding a partner of the opposite sex with a complete, functional set of male sex organs while both of us are in appropriate condition for reproduction. I'm not more or less superior because my sex organs work optimally.

None of this is likely a surprise to anyone. Here's the part where people get confused. Gender is not biological. Gender is internal and intangible. Gender is the sense of being male or female, largely in respect to cultural expectations, but not exclusively so.

And, in case the water wasn't muddy enough...Let's introduce the third construct of gender roles. Gender roles are those aspects deemed feminine or masculine by any society. It is extremely important to remember that these outward expressions are variable according to each individual culture -- most American women would balk at the clothing restrictions placed upon many women in the Middle East. But, even more confusing is the understanding that the expectations can vary even within one culture. For instance, the expression of feminine clothing in the outlaw biker community would be quite different than that of the Amish community. These countercultures both have their own rules about feminine expression, and while they both exist within the larger American culture, they are opposed to most of the larger culture's beliefs and norms.

Overwhelmingly and regardless of society, gender roles are manipulations of socialization and social control. Failure to abide by the norms, or standards, or any society is met with disdain and resultant sanctions (exclusion, punishment, etc.) by the larger group. An example would be the fact that an adult male openly and loudly weeping in a public movie theater because he was touched emotionally by the movie would be met with stage whispered comments about his sexuality, shaking heads, and possibly with outright and directed aggression at his lack of manly behavior. Of course, the norm in American society is that men are emotionally controlled and not weak enough to allow their emotions full expression, and certainly not public display.

As were most women of my age, I was repeatedly told to act like a "young lady" during my childhood. This meant to sit with your knees together, to pull your dress down before you sit, to be quiet when others were talking, to be nurturing and loving, to play with dolls, and many more things. As a consequence, the socialized messages were that I was to be diminutive in all things. I was disciplined harshly when I failed to do what was expected. I learned to sew and cook and clean things. It was not OK for me to be angry, to be physically aggressive, or to do any other thing that was considered masculine in the blue collar world where I lived.

I'm not faulting my parents, at all. In fact, they were more liberal than most. I played sports, although the girls teams still wore shorts and were expected to slide in softball (I have the scars to prove it). I was quick to get into physical altercations and, while I think it drove my father crazy, I really think my mother was secretly tickled by it. I was not one to let others dictate things to me, but like every other person in our society, I had to conform to some extent or suffer...dress right or no job, act right or be punished at school and be rejected by peers, etc. And, my parents were only a small part of that process...peers, extended family, neighbors, teachers, religious leaders, doctors, and every other person in my sphere had input and influence.

And, today, I clearly see the limiting influence of these ill-thought-out attempts at forcing us to squeeze ourselves into a tiny, suffocating box. In fact, the entire rationale behind these dictated gender roles are baffling to me -- yes, I understand from a sociological perspective that the norms likely originated in religious values that are now considered puritanical by most, but their influence remains. They've become so ingrained that we either accept them unconditionally and reinforce them with cruel joy as we demean and belittle those who don't comply; or, we blissfully and ignorantly delude ourselves into believing that societal gender oles don't exist, or that they are charming and functional.

I assert that they are not. They are minimizing. They seek to separate us, or at least to interfere with connection while simultaneously lowering our sense of self, stunting our creativity, and ensuring a lack of genuineness. They prevent us from honest self exploration and expression, and force us into the box or into the role of outlier, rebel, troublemaker.

So, here is my vow:

I REJECT gender roles. Empirical research has clearly shown that there are not ascribed behaviors given to either sex. Instead, behaviors are achieved after social learning and observation.

I will not limit myself to behavior, characteristics, or activities that are deemed acceptable for my sex. I'll do what makes me happy and what feels real and genuine to me, according to my skill and interest. I will express these things unashamedly, regardless of response by others.

I will NEVER criticize any other person for demonstrating any genuine emotion, action, or opinion that is traditionally OK for only one gender. I will accept people for who they are, and who they strive to be, according to their own desires and self-determination. Short of causing danger/damage to another person, I will respect every person's own assertion of self.

I WILL stand in support of others who wish to be genuine in their own lives. I will openly and vocally support all persons in this pursuit, regardless of our differences.

The problem with a woman president ...

     In 2001, members of Congress owed $2.53  million in back, personal income taxes. In 2014, 714 tax delinquents on Capitol Hill owed $8.6 million. I once owed taxes after a foreclosure. I had no peace from the IRS until it was repaid... My accounts were levied, my pay garnished, my future returns seized long past repayment. I owed a pittance compared to this amount. Interesting how the political elite operate under quite different rules. A 2013 bill to fire federal employees accountable for back taxes, of course, failed to be passed. Instead, those employees continue to be paid with federal funds while not supporting the system.
        But, these are the people that Americans keep voting into office to manage the nation's finances.... Explains some things about the current state of our government and economy, huh?
     And, it is an exceptional demonstration of the frustration by Americans regarding the disengagement and lack of personal accountability in its ruling body. Another deals with the length of time that Reps sit in office...
      On June 5, 2013, John D. Dingell, Jr of Michigan became the longest sitting member of Congress with 57 years, 5 months, and 26 days. 90% of House members and 91% of Senate members were reelected in 2012. In 2010, those numbers were 87% and 84%, respectively. And, these numbers are typical despite Congressional approval ratings falling as low as 10% according to Gallup polls, during the same terms. At age 86, Mr. Dingell first appeared on the House floor at age 6, when his father was elected to office. This gives rise to yet another aspect of the political machine.... Political families.
       Some, like the Kennedy family became quite near American royalty. The Bush family produced two presidents, and hopes for a third. In fact, in 2015, 20 members of Congress had parents who had also been in Congress. At least 5 more succeeded other family members, including siblings, uncles, and spouses. A 2013 piece by The Washington Post found 37 dynastic members. The same article noted that female legislators are nearly 3 times as likely to be dynastic as men.
      Earlier this year, Rasmussen polls showed that most Americans were far more concerned with reducing health care costs (59%) than mandating all citizens be insured (36%). In 2015, only 47% of Americans supported the ACA, more commonly called Obamacare, while members of Congress had quite stronger perspectives with 70% of Democratic members supporting and 72% of Republican members against. July 2014 Kaiser polls showed a high of American disfavor for ACA at 53%. Naturally, Congress exempted itself from ACA, promptly, so members never had a personal investment as to its success or failure.
      In 2014, Gallup polls showed that 60% of Americans believed that having a gun in their house made them safer. Another Gallup poll in 2015 showed more Americans having a favorable view of the NRA than not. The current presidential administration continued to promote gun control restrictions despite clear public dissent. Congressional members, naturally, are protected by armed Capital Police on the Hill and at official events. Senior leadership has 24 hour protection. Any concern also includes undercover municipal police protection. And, still many members elect to carry concealed.
        What's the point of all this rambling? I'm disgusted and frustrated with the disconnection of our sitting ruling bodies.... Some people get angry when I use the term "ruling," but I'd argue that it's the correct one.... Our "representatives" -- I'm using the term loosely -- are under no obligation to vote according to the conscience of their constituency (this is of course why we're a republic and not a democracy as the uneducated continue to call us).  And, they don't.
      I am no idealist, but I'm also dissatisfied with the perspective that working within the system will change it. In fact, my experience has been that such an endeavor is unlikely to work for many reasons... Not the least of which being that an agency's culture is persuasive and, in some cases, overwhelming. I believe this to be the case when considering the patriarchal, capitalist, power mongering culture of the federal legislature.
      Many wonderful articles have been written on the effects of patriarchy and misogyny, so I won't beat that drum, but I will point out that I believe the best measure of the entrenchment of patriarchy is by checking the behavior of its intended victims.... Women. When you have a society of women who compete, compare, and endeavor to put each other "in their place," you have an ugly, pervasively patriarchal society. Such a society will need to seek to heal it's women while simultaneously convincing those benefiting by the patriarchy that they are also victims (this is, of course, true, but a hard argument to make to those who believe they're having their cake and eating pie, as well; and, also a difficult argument for the obvious victims to swallow).
        Women must recognize that they've often abdicated their power in order to succeed in a more covert fashion which undermines said power; or in order to free themselves of personal responsibility. Successful women may resist this. I believe Mrs Clinton to be one of these women.... One who elected to use the tactics of  patriarchal men to move herself forward, which included compromising standards. I cannot support her bid for government given her indelible embroidery inside the political machine that I believe is failing us as a nation. I discard Mr. Sanders for the same reason.... A member of the legislature for nearly 30 years, I fail to see how and why he would suddenly wish to make changes, nor do I believe he can interfere with the aforementioned culture of the Hill.
         What's left of the choices? Absolutely nothing good. Nothing. Trump? No. Cruz? Absolutely not.
         What do I want in a candidate? Ideally: green party, but I'd settle for a libertarian with a brain. Truly, I want a constitutionalist..... Someone who will look at the labyrinth of conflicting law and enforcement bodies and begin simplifying by eliminating. If we've learned anything from the last fifty years, I hope that it's that we've created an untouchable, self perpetuating power elite which is completely divorced from the average citizen. My representative government doesn't represent me.
        Do I recognize how unrealistic my wants are? Naturally. I believe, instead, that we will see revolution and/or collapse in the course of my lifetime. I believe that this is likely necessary to destroy the ill effects of our entitlement and lack of personal accountability taken as a society. I also recognize that great hardship, violence, and misery is likely.

Obviously, the title didn't lead me where I thought it would, but I stand by it and will finish here.....
What's the problem with a woman president?
Nothing.
If she's the candidate that I believe represents my ideals. I haven't had one present themselves yet. But, I certainly wish they would.

Truth as subjective

There is no one truth. There is only my truth. This doesn't in any way invalidate my truth. Instead, it gives it perspective.

For instance, my belief is that the universe is made up of energy... Tiny units all vibrating at different frequencies which give each it's unique form and function. Physics professors probably agree with my truth, in this case. Another person may believe that all life is made up of biological substances which are impacted by their physical environment, begetting their physical forms. For that person, life may end at death. Because I believe energy cannot be created nor destroyed, death cannot possibly be the end of life.

Which of us is right? We both are. Because we each have our own truth. The existence of consciousness after death is not proven. I cannot force my point, nor can the other person. I could muddy this water a thousand more times with additional diverse beliefs, but why bother?

About now, some astute person is pointing out that I'm talking about belief not truth. I would challenge them to differentiate the two concepts as to make them clearly separate. Really. I'm interested in your thoughts. If you look up the definitions of the words, you'll find each word used in the definition of the other. **smile**

Here is the point of this exercise in mental masturbation (you did know there had to be a point, right?):
If I understand that my truth belongs to me, I don't feel compelled to disrespect or belittle anyone else's truth. I can give it the same space I give my own without the compulsion to disprove it in order to prove myself correct. And, none of that is dependent upon whether I personally believe in any or all (or none) of the tenets of someone else's truth.

Is the subjective world of persons diagnosed with autism or psychosis any less valid than my own because I cannot see through their eyes or they through mine? Of course not. Their world is just as real and valid to them as mine is to me. We just don't have the same experience in the same place. Our worlds are different.

The world outside of us, after all, is quite often a greater reflection of our personal inner worlds than any other factor.

Let that sink in a minute.

My Belly...A Love Song

I've spent years and years in a hateful, scornful relationship with my own body. This is not a revelation. It is just reality. The media barrage tells me, many times a day, that I'm not beautiful because I don't have a flat or concave set of washboard abs. It tells me that the lack of toned muscle around my middle means that I'm lazy, ugly, and -- truth be told, in light of my stretch marks -- deformed and hideous. Infomercials show me thin, ripped 50 year old women who've clearly been surgically (and otherwise) enhanced. They hold them up as the epitome of normalcy, making me the outcast.

I've had negative feelings about nearly every body part --
1. My eyes are not shaped the same, and one sits higher in the socket than the other, making me truly unphotogenic from every angle
2. There is cellulite on my thighs
3. My rear has become less perky and more of a long back
4. I have Fred Flintstone feet
5. My hands are gigantic and wide for a woman's -- paws, really
6. My breasts have run south faster than an Alabama felon
7. The backs of my upper arms wiggle and wave

I could go on and on and on, but no other body part received my disgust like my belly. It was never flat, even when I was quite thin. Its striped raggedly from one end to the other -- more closely resembling a sharp-clawed animal attack than a natural occurrence. I have hated it with a fury that caused me to hide it, cover it, strangle it in boning, and wrap it in spandex with a frenzy of determination to have an hourglass form.

As I've grown older, an understanding has been slowly, slowly creeping into my awareness. It began as a tiny whisper in the corner of my chest...the slight cringe whenever my husband rolled over at night, tucking in behind me and molding his body to mine, then slipping his hand around me, to rest on my not-flat stomach. And, his hand would just gently brush my belly, a gesture of love, and that tiny voice would be heard. That voice would grow when he would stand outside the bathroom door, watching me put on lotion or makeup, or drying my hair...a smile on his face. I could look in the mirror and smile at myself.

For, the voice didn't start from within...it was whispered to me from a dozen different sources...women friends who complimented me on how sexy I looked, admiring glances from strangers, the way my body feels in the strong wind with the trees dancing in jubilation.

And, still it grows....when I see the lovely celebration of the feminine power of transformation and nurture all around me -- my grandchildren laughing and spinning with no self-criticism, pure joy in their eyes. Flowers and bees and creatures of all kinds engaged in daily life with no regard to their own appearance. One rose does not compare itself to another...instead, it just blooms.

And, as I age, my body changes more -- softening and easing, adjusting to the pull of gravity -- that little voice has turned into a song. This is what it sings to me:

Love me, woman, for I have made you what you are.
You have felt the spill of blood, teaching you to release that which no longer serves you. 
Ecstasy has been in the clenching of your center, displaying pleasure and its possibilities. 
I have blessed you with co-creation, where you alone maturated and brought forth life from your womb.
That growth of tiny feet kicking to be free stretched your skin in the most amazing fashion, an artist painting a pattern all your own. 
And, again, this miracle occurred...with new feet and tiny hands, pushing, moving, sleeping, and playing before bursting into this world from its safety within you. 
You hold the cauldron, the source and origin of all life within your very body. 
Your blood flows like the waters of the sea, cleansing and renewing in turn. 
You can mark your days by the phases of the moon...so close to you She is. 
Love me, woman, for I have made you what you are. 
And, you are magick. 

And, the song is in my ears. It seeps into my soul. And, I know its truth.

For, I am woman. 

And, I am magical.  

Further more...

...I am unashamed.