Once again, a freaking brilliant comment by Melinda:
"I don't know why so many Mormons feel threatened when something about the church is horrifying, mean, untrue, etc. I wonder why it doesn't bother my testimony at all. I think maybe its because I see the church the same way I see families... as a group of people who are trying and messing up all the time but making a little progress and doing a lot of good things with help from God. I guess some people see the church as something God is micromanaging and offering to the world rather than something a group of people are working out and offering to God (with his help of course--like families.)"
I guess some people see the church as something God is micromanaging and offering to the world rather than something a group of people are working out and offering to God. That line stopped me in my tracks. Oh Melinda, I have to say it again - this is why you're my very favorite Mormon and why I am so glad that they have you. Knowing that you are there just being yourself, and that there absolutely are Others Like You, gives me hope for, not just the evolution of the LDS church, but the evolution of all of us.
Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Hillbilly Proof
Okay so, big fat surprise, my Ex-Mormon Video caused a bit of a stir and gave several faithful and righteous individuals the opportunity to scold, judge, condemn me, and rip me apart. I was very careful to not bash the LDS church in any way but, rather, to share a mere 2 minute and 20 second snippet of a very long, very complicated personal life story. Have I bashed the church? Absolutely I have. Was I bashing it in that video? Nope. Not even close. That is not what that video series is about. Hell, they think that was bashing? They clearly didn’t read this blog during Prop 8.
All I did was state a few, very minor, things that had been my own personal experience growing up. I am stunned (but not really) at how many people came out swinging with, “No, you didn’t!” “No, they didn’t!” “No, we don’t!” “That’s not true!” I am “inaccurate” about my own experience? Excuse me, but how the hell do you know? Were you there? That’s like someone telling me that when they were little they were in a car accident and then, because that thought frightens me, having me scream at them that they are making it up, lying, deceived, crazy…
Whatever.
I stopped giving a shit about what The Hillbillies think of me a long time ago. I have a glorious life to live that they cannot comprehend in their wildest dreams.
[Note: I am NOT saying that Mormons are hillbillies. People are hillbillies if they behave and think like hillbillies and some of them happen to be Mormon. I am also not saying that people that hate me are hillbillies. People are welcome to hate me all they want – just, please, hate me for good and intelligent reasons. Little people have my permission to hate me. I have totally earned it.]
I was recently having a conversation with a friend who is a very active member of the LDS church. And she was complaining to me about how her fellow members react if anyone dares to voice that they are struggling or questioning their faith in the least little bit. That is probably the biggest issue that Ex-Mormons have with those that still believe. The moment there are questions, and those questions are voiced, doors are slammed. The moment one shares that a testimony has been rocked they are ostracized. One in a million members will actually say, “Wow, that must be so scary… How awful for you… I am so sorry, what can I do… I can’t even imagine what that would be like or what I would do…” The rest reject and label as dangerous and sinful faster than you can say CTR.
Do you have any idea how incredible it would be for someone who is struggling to hear those words? To have someone even try to understand? To have someone check their agenda at the door and listen for real, and empathize for real, about what is going on? About how terrifying it is? Because it is terrifying. More than they can imagine. And that is why they avoid us like the plague. They are so frightened of that happening to them that they bury their heads in self-righteous condemnation and hide behind the belief that we “obviously never really had a testimony to begin with.” Really? I never really had a testimony? Yes, I did. A BIG FAT ONE. The LDS church and my faith in God and Christ were absolutely everything to me. And that is what terrifies them so much. If I really can have a solid testimony and not do one thing to jeopardize it (ie: drink, have sex outside of marriage, look at porn, read anything that even smells anti-Mormon, stop paying tithing…) then they can too. And that thought is inconceivable and cannot, will not, be tolerated. Therefore, I am a liar and they are truth bearers. I am deceived and they are enlightened. I am to be pitied and corrected and they are just the ones to do it.
Whatever.
God, just imagine what they’re going to say when Dancing With Crazy is released. The shit is going to hit the fan. And, again, I will be a crazy, pathetic, misguided, dangerous, truth-impaired woman.
Whatever.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. They will never understand – I’m not even going to try and make them. It doesn’t matter to me. They don’t matter to me. The earth is not flat and I am done eating the vomit.
Actually the only comments that didn’t make me throw my head back laughing were the variations of “Well, let’s just see how things are for her in the next life.” Really??? You know how things are going to be for me in the next life??? You know my heart??? You know why I am on this planet better than I do??? You know the relationship I have with my Creator??? Are you really that arrogant? You actually have the audacity to sit back and smugly judge what my experience has been while I’ve been in this body and what it will be like when I am out of it???
Whatever.
All I did was state a few, very minor, things that had been my own personal experience growing up. I am stunned (but not really) at how many people came out swinging with, “No, you didn’t!” “No, they didn’t!” “No, we don’t!” “That’s not true!” I am “inaccurate” about my own experience? Excuse me, but how the hell do you know? Were you there? That’s like someone telling me that when they were little they were in a car accident and then, because that thought frightens me, having me scream at them that they are making it up, lying, deceived, crazy…
Whatever.
I stopped giving a shit about what The Hillbillies think of me a long time ago. I have a glorious life to live that they cannot comprehend in their wildest dreams.
[Note: I am NOT saying that Mormons are hillbillies. People are hillbillies if they behave and think like hillbillies and some of them happen to be Mormon. I am also not saying that people that hate me are hillbillies. People are welcome to hate me all they want – just, please, hate me for good and intelligent reasons. Little people have my permission to hate me. I have totally earned it.]
I was recently having a conversation with a friend who is a very active member of the LDS church. And she was complaining to me about how her fellow members react if anyone dares to voice that they are struggling or questioning their faith in the least little bit. That is probably the biggest issue that Ex-Mormons have with those that still believe. The moment there are questions, and those questions are voiced, doors are slammed. The moment one shares that a testimony has been rocked they are ostracized. One in a million members will actually say, “Wow, that must be so scary… How awful for you… I am so sorry, what can I do… I can’t even imagine what that would be like or what I would do…” The rest reject and label as dangerous and sinful faster than you can say CTR.
Do you have any idea how incredible it would be for someone who is struggling to hear those words? To have someone even try to understand? To have someone check their agenda at the door and listen for real, and empathize for real, about what is going on? About how terrifying it is? Because it is terrifying. More than they can imagine. And that is why they avoid us like the plague. They are so frightened of that happening to them that they bury their heads in self-righteous condemnation and hide behind the belief that we “obviously never really had a testimony to begin with.” Really? I never really had a testimony? Yes, I did. A BIG FAT ONE. The LDS church and my faith in God and Christ were absolutely everything to me. And that is what terrifies them so much. If I really can have a solid testimony and not do one thing to jeopardize it (ie: drink, have sex outside of marriage, look at porn, read anything that even smells anti-Mormon, stop paying tithing…) then they can too. And that thought is inconceivable and cannot, will not, be tolerated. Therefore, I am a liar and they are truth bearers. I am deceived and they are enlightened. I am to be pitied and corrected and they are just the ones to do it.
Whatever.
God, just imagine what they’re going to say when Dancing With Crazy is released. The shit is going to hit the fan. And, again, I will be a crazy, pathetic, misguided, dangerous, truth-impaired woman.
Whatever.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. They will never understand – I’m not even going to try and make them. It doesn’t matter to me. They don’t matter to me. The earth is not flat and I am done eating the vomit.
Actually the only comments that didn’t make me throw my head back laughing were the variations of “Well, let’s just see how things are for her in the next life.” Really??? You know how things are going to be for me in the next life??? You know my heart??? You know why I am on this planet better than I do??? You know the relationship I have with my Creator??? Are you really that arrogant? You actually have the audacity to sit back and smugly judge what my experience has been while I’ve been in this body and what it will be like when I am out of it???
Whatever.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Free Love
I recently read a blog post that made me stop. And think. And then want to go skydiving. The topic was "Sexual Liberation," something the author of said blog said they "experimented" with the idea of but ultimately rejected because sexual liberation "disconnects sexuality and sexual expression from any affective, relational or spiritual context. It ultimately denies the reality of the non-physical, and denies the validity of any meaning connected to sex apart from simple physical gratification... [and] can feel liberating -- at first. But ultimately it's not any sort of liberation at all. It eventually becomes a form of slavery, condemning us to an impoverished existence, and stripping our lives of humanity and meaning."
I wanted to cry. True sexual liberation doesn't imprison, condemn and strip life of meaning - it does exactly the opposite. To liberate, by definition, means to "to set free, as from imprisonment or bondage." If one is sexually liberated that means that one was previously sexually imprisoned, held captive or bound in a restrictive way. It means that one was shackled by sexual guilt, shame, ignorance and fear brought on by the effects of religious dogma, sexual abuse or crippling family and social beliefs and expectations.
To be liberated means to be set free. How can that ever be a bad thing? When we are truly free, in any and all areas of life, we are bigger, better, healthier, happier, more generous, more courageous, more loving. And, yes, we are more responsible. I know that there are those out their wielding sex like a weapon to inflict pain on themselves and others. Just because one has lots of sex doesn't mean that one is liberated. Clearly those individuals are not free from their own ties that bind. I know that there are those that have joyless sex disconnected from all feeling. But, again, those people are not liberated from anything. They are just as held hostage by their sexual wounds and fractures as the person who denies themselves sexual experience and expression.
In my opinion, sexual liberation (and every other form of freedom) is something we should all seek after like the Holy Grail. We should all desire freedom from the prisons we build for ourselves and one another. And we should fight hard to remove every shackle we wear because then, and only then, are we able to be truly present, truly healthy, truly responsible and truly charitable and kind.
Only when we are free can we truly connect with our deepest selves and with one another.
Only when we are free can we truly enjoy the incredible power and life giving joy of healthy sexual expression.
And only when we are free are we truly alive.
In the name of Aphrodite (and Dr. Ruth)... Amen.
* * *
Related Posts
Battle Cries Of The Sexually Dysfunctional: Part I
Battle Cries Of The Sexually Dysfunctional: Part II
I wanted to cry. True sexual liberation doesn't imprison, condemn and strip life of meaning - it does exactly the opposite. To liberate, by definition, means to "to set free, as from imprisonment or bondage." If one is sexually liberated that means that one was previously sexually imprisoned, held captive or bound in a restrictive way. It means that one was shackled by sexual guilt, shame, ignorance and fear brought on by the effects of religious dogma, sexual abuse or crippling family and social beliefs and expectations.
To be liberated means to be set free. How can that ever be a bad thing? When we are truly free, in any and all areas of life, we are bigger, better, healthier, happier, more generous, more courageous, more loving. And, yes, we are more responsible. I know that there are those out their wielding sex like a weapon to inflict pain on themselves and others. Just because one has lots of sex doesn't mean that one is liberated. Clearly those individuals are not free from their own ties that bind. I know that there are those that have joyless sex disconnected from all feeling. But, again, those people are not liberated from anything. They are just as held hostage by their sexual wounds and fractures as the person who denies themselves sexual experience and expression.
In my opinion, sexual liberation (and every other form of freedom) is something we should all seek after like the Holy Grail. We should all desire freedom from the prisons we build for ourselves and one another. And we should fight hard to remove every shackle we wear because then, and only then, are we able to be truly present, truly healthy, truly responsible and truly charitable and kind.
Only when we are free can we truly connect with our deepest selves and with one another.
Only when we are free can we truly enjoy the incredible power and life giving joy of healthy sexual expression.
And only when we are free are we truly alive.
In the name of Aphrodite (and Dr. Ruth)... Amen.
* * *
Related Posts
Battle Cries Of The Sexually Dysfunctional: Part I
Battle Cries Of The Sexually Dysfunctional: Part II
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Imagine A World Filled With Parents Like This...
Absolutely Stunning Piece written by a woman named Glennon-Gorgeous-Mother-And-Human-Being.
Our world is getting better, and better, and better...
Our world is getting better, and better, and better...
Monday, July 19, 2010
Emily + Jesus = TLA
"[Emily,] You said something in this post that caught me off guard. I wasn't sure if you were being sarcastic or serious. You're so good at being sarcastic that we honestly can't tell the difference. You say "...believe it or not, Jesus really is my friend."
A) Is this sarcasm? if so, bravo! Well played.
B) if you're serious-- I am surprised and puzzled... and can you explain your thoughts and feelings regarding "Jesus"?
It was my assumption, based on my long-time reading of this blog, that you were no longer a believer in the magical man in the sky. Perhaps you have long felt differently but never chose to discuss your personal feelings on Jebus.
I am not criticizing you If you are a believer, I just am confused by it. The open-minded, free-spirited, irreverent, sex-toy-selling, self-emancipated recovering Mormon that I have grown to love on this blog does not at ALL seem like the Jesus-loving type. Am I crazy?
Please enlighten us! We love you so much."
Oh man, you're going to make me write about my coochie aren't you? Well, shit...
Okay, first of all, of course I was being sarcastic. I will always poke sarcastic fun at the weird things humans do - especially when it comes to God and Jesus and religion. But that doesn't mean I wasn't also being serious. Yes, Jesus really is my friend.
He is my friend simply because he is. As a concept, he was my enemy for a very long time due to some ways he got seriously fucked up in my childhood. I worked unbelievably hard to heal that and when I was an adult, and Mormon, I fell in love with the notion that Jesus was a man that actually loved me and, because of that love, was willing and capable of grabbing a whip, overturning tables and kicking the shit out of those that had violated the temple of my soul. The thought of him has brought healing and peace and joy to my soul more times in my life than I can count. That is what a friend does.
But, he is more than just a thought. Yes, I am a believer. For many reasons I believe, and have experienced, that life continues after we are no longer in these bodies. And, yes, I believe that the spirit that was Jesus on this earth does exist. Do I believe that he died on the cross for the sins of the world? No. Not in the way I was taught. Those that believe in the traditional Christian Atonement and Crucifixion would call that blaspheme. I promise it's not. The ways in which I am coming to understand the teachings and life and what we call the atonement of Jesus Christ is more beautiful than anything I was ever taught in any church. And the day will certainly come when I will share some of that understanding publicly - but today ain't that day.
There is still so much that I just flat out don't know. It is my intention one day, hopefully sooner than later, to carve out some time to do an in depth study of the life and teachings of Christ. Who he really was, and could have been, historically and politically as well as what he taught and achieved spiritually. That period in my life is something I really look forward to. Almost as much as the day I have time for porn.
It is the statement "The open-minded, free-spirited, irreverent, sex-toy-selling, self-emancipated recovering Mormon that I have grown to love on this blog does not at ALL seem like the Jesus-loving type," that I really want to address. Somehow religious people have decided that someone who loves God or Jesus or has any kind of a spiritual life has to look and behave a certain way. That right there is the notion that I am more than willing and happy to violently blow out of the water.
Guess what? I promise you that it is possible to love God and the word asshead at the same time. That one can praise Jesus and shoot Tequila and sell sex toys without skipping a beat. Not only is it possible to be irreverent and spiritually alive at the same time, it is almost a prerequisite. The more I discover the God of my soul, the more open-minded, free-spirited and self-emancipated I become.
We humans get so caught up in what things are supposed to "look" like we end up living someone else's version of ourselves. If you're gay you have to look like this. If you're straight, you have to look like this. If you're a woman you have to look like this. If you're a man you have look like this. If you're black you have to behave this way. If you're white, you check that box and stand with that group. If you're artistic, smart, handicapped, blond... you have to behave a certain way, think a certain way, be like the others that share the same story as you.
Be yourself - whatever that means and looks like. Who the hell cares what others think? Stand before God, naked and exposed exactly as you are and choose to be, and I promise you will be celebrated. Do the same with yourself and I guarantee fireworks and choirs of angels.
So, there you have it. Is Emily Pearson a Jesus-loving believer? Fuck yeah.
End of peep show.
A) Is this sarcasm? if so, bravo! Well played.
B) if you're serious-- I am surprised and puzzled... and can you explain your thoughts and feelings regarding "Jesus"?
It was my assumption, based on my long-time reading of this blog, that you were no longer a believer in the magical man in the sky. Perhaps you have long felt differently but never chose to discuss your personal feelings on Jebus.
I am not criticizing you If you are a believer, I just am confused by it. The open-minded, free-spirited, irreverent, sex-toy-selling, self-emancipated recovering Mormon that I have grown to love on this blog does not at ALL seem like the Jesus-loving type. Am I crazy?
Please enlighten us! We love you so much."
Oh man, you're going to make me write about my coochie aren't you? Well, shit...
Okay, first of all, of course I was being sarcastic. I will always poke sarcastic fun at the weird things humans do - especially when it comes to God and Jesus and religion. But that doesn't mean I wasn't also being serious. Yes, Jesus really is my friend.
He is my friend simply because he is. As a concept, he was my enemy for a very long time due to some ways he got seriously fucked up in my childhood. I worked unbelievably hard to heal that and when I was an adult, and Mormon, I fell in love with the notion that Jesus was a man that actually loved me and, because of that love, was willing and capable of grabbing a whip, overturning tables and kicking the shit out of those that had violated the temple of my soul. The thought of him has brought healing and peace and joy to my soul more times in my life than I can count. That is what a friend does.
But, he is more than just a thought. Yes, I am a believer. For many reasons I believe, and have experienced, that life continues after we are no longer in these bodies. And, yes, I believe that the spirit that was Jesus on this earth does exist. Do I believe that he died on the cross for the sins of the world? No. Not in the way I was taught. Those that believe in the traditional Christian Atonement and Crucifixion would call that blaspheme. I promise it's not. The ways in which I am coming to understand the teachings and life and what we call the atonement of Jesus Christ is more beautiful than anything I was ever taught in any church. And the day will certainly come when I will share some of that understanding publicly - but today ain't that day.
There is still so much that I just flat out don't know. It is my intention one day, hopefully sooner than later, to carve out some time to do an in depth study of the life and teachings of Christ. Who he really was, and could have been, historically and politically as well as what he taught and achieved spiritually. That period in my life is something I really look forward to. Almost as much as the day I have time for porn.
It is the statement "The open-minded, free-spirited, irreverent, sex-toy-selling, self-emancipated recovering Mormon that I have grown to love on this blog does not at ALL seem like the Jesus-loving type," that I really want to address. Somehow religious people have decided that someone who loves God or Jesus or has any kind of a spiritual life has to look and behave a certain way. That right there is the notion that I am more than willing and happy to violently blow out of the water.
Guess what? I promise you that it is possible to love God and the word asshead at the same time. That one can praise Jesus and shoot Tequila and sell sex toys without skipping a beat. Not only is it possible to be irreverent and spiritually alive at the same time, it is almost a prerequisite. The more I discover the God of my soul, the more open-minded, free-spirited and self-emancipated I become.
We humans get so caught up in what things are supposed to "look" like we end up living someone else's version of ourselves. If you're gay you have to look like this. If you're straight, you have to look like this. If you're a woman you have to look like this. If you're a man you have look like this. If you're black you have to behave this way. If you're white, you check that box and stand with that group. If you're artistic, smart, handicapped, blond... you have to behave a certain way, think a certain way, be like the others that share the same story as you.
Be yourself - whatever that means and looks like. Who the hell cares what others think? Stand before God, naked and exposed exactly as you are and choose to be, and I promise you will be celebrated. Do the same with yourself and I guarantee fireworks and choirs of angels.
So, there you have it. Is Emily Pearson a Jesus-loving believer? Fuck yeah.
End of peep show.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Women Alive! Retreat
There are still a few spaces available at our Retreat this summer. I am really excited for how this is shaping up - and about flexing my more serious / motivational / spiritual muscles that I choose, for the time being, to not flex on this blog. Looking forward to seeing you there!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Among The Living
A lot of people are dying in my circles lately - it's strange. Sisters of friends, parents of friends... I received word week before last that my childhood babysitter was diagnosed with a fast growing cancer so I drove down to Provo to say goodbye. It's always strange to say goodbye to someone you love when you know it is for the last time in this physical life. What do you say? "I love you... Thanks for loving me... Are you scared... Don't be... What are your favorite memories of our time together... What are mine... Do you remember when... I'll see you soon..."
Yep. All of the above. You hug and laugh and cry and stare into one another's eyes a lot. She asked me to sing to her. I did. Then she asked me to sing that same song at her funeral. I agreed. She died last Saturday night and today I drove down to the chapel in Provo and sang for her the songs she had requested - My Turn on Earth and Angel Lullaby (the lullaby that my mom wrote for me while I was in her belly) from Mom's play "My Turn on Earth." I was cocky and thought that I wouldn't cry but standing above her casket a flood of childhood memories washed over me and I was emotional from start to finish.
This woman had watched over me as a child. She had played the piano and hide and seek with me. She put flowers on my sister's grave every year. She was only, like, 56years old. She had a constant smile that masked a hundred pains that I'm not sure how many people in her life actually knew about. And she is the only person that I know who loved chocolate more than I do.
Often when someone dies it is natural that we think about death. And life. The best story was told today. When my friend was about five years old, her family moved to a new town. She wanted to have a birthday party but her mother told her it would be hard because they had just moved there and they didn't know anyone. You can't really have a party with no friends. She left the house and came back about an hour later followed by several neighbors. "Mom, these are my new friends. Can I have my party now?"
Why do I so often forget lessons I learned long ago - and continue to learn over and over and over? If life is lacking something I want - go out and get it. Make it. Meet it. Create it. Demand it. Don't rest until I have it. In the spiritual adventure I find myself on, I spend more time with the dead than the living. I focus more on life before and life after than I do on life right now. Funny. And not.
Note To Self: Stop being so fascinated by near death experiences. Focus on having a near life experience instead. Just a thought.
Yep. All of the above. You hug and laugh and cry and stare into one another's eyes a lot. She asked me to sing to her. I did. Then she asked me to sing that same song at her funeral. I agreed. She died last Saturday night and today I drove down to the chapel in Provo and sang for her the songs she had requested - My Turn on Earth and Angel Lullaby (the lullaby that my mom wrote for me while I was in her belly) from Mom's play "My Turn on Earth." I was cocky and thought that I wouldn't cry but standing above her casket a flood of childhood memories washed over me and I was emotional from start to finish.
This woman had watched over me as a child. She had played the piano and hide and seek with me. She put flowers on my sister's grave every year. She was only, like, 56years old. She had a constant smile that masked a hundred pains that I'm not sure how many people in her life actually knew about. And she is the only person that I know who loved chocolate more than I do.
Often when someone dies it is natural that we think about death. And life. The best story was told today. When my friend was about five years old, her family moved to a new town. She wanted to have a birthday party but her mother told her it would be hard because they had just moved there and they didn't know anyone. You can't really have a party with no friends. She left the house and came back about an hour later followed by several neighbors. "Mom, these are my new friends. Can I have my party now?"
Why do I so often forget lessons I learned long ago - and continue to learn over and over and over? If life is lacking something I want - go out and get it. Make it. Meet it. Create it. Demand it. Don't rest until I have it. In the spiritual adventure I find myself on, I spend more time with the dead than the living. I focus more on life before and life after than I do on life right now. Funny. And not.
Note To Self: Stop being so fascinated by near death experiences. Focus on having a near life experience instead. Just a thought.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Women Alive! Retreat
Women Alive! My mother, Carol Lynn Pearson, and I are hosting a three-day retreat for twelve women in the beautiful Utah mountains this summer.
July 30- August 1, Friday noon to Sunday 5 p.m.
CAROL LYNN PEARSON—brings her insight and inspiration on Women’s Spirituality…the Magic and Meaning of Coincidence…her poems…a reader’s theatre presentation of “Mother Wove the Morning” (search for the female face of God)…and much more.
EMILY PEARSON—with her unique, sassy humor and well-earned wisdom, guides us to a greater understanding of Pain and its purpose, how we can allow it to propel us forward…shows us the freedom and joy that come from Spiritual Reinvention…and makes sure we laugh a lot.
*Lodge-type home on three acres in the beautiful mountains near Heber
*Small lake, canoe, paddle boat, Koi fish pond, waterfall, woods, occasional moose
*Slumber party casual
*First nine enrollees get a double bed, others get a comfortable couch
*Yummy, healthy food and indulgent snacks
*Bring one guest free to Friday evening performance of “Mother Wove the Morning”
$340
REGISTER HERE.
Grab a spot and come have a party with us! I am really excited about this event - even though Mom made me promise not to use the "F" word all weekend.
Whatever.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
A Sausage Press For Two
Okay, here’s my two cents on The Secret and the Law of Attraction. The Secret is a very simplistic, cliff notes view of a spiritual principle that is one of the things that I was not able to toss out when I decided that All Things Spiritual = All Things Bullshit.
The Law of Attraction, the belief that we create our own reality, does not exist to just get us cool stuff. It is not about having hot red sports cars and diamond tiaras drop from the sky merely because we think about them. It is about being conscious of our thoughts and feelings and being the masters of our inner worlds. When we really achieve that, miracles happen because of what we have chosen and what we have changed internally.
We get what we put out – if we are kind and loving and generous we get more of that in return than not. We are what we think – if we are positive and joyful we’re going to have, and be, more and more of the same (good luck having a positive and joyful life if you are a grumpy asshole). And we attract people and experiences that are in alignment with who we are allowing ourselves to be – if we insist on living a certain kind of life we just won’t tolerate or, after a while, even notice anything different.
It’s not magic, it’s just the way things work. But, to me, the results that occur from truly changing one’s emotional make up, one’s inner life experience, can only be described as magical.
Example: The Relationship. The act of making space in our closets, putting up a pair of candles in our bedroom, maybe sleeping on one side of the bed IS NOT going to make the partner of our dreams magically appear. What it IS going to do is raise our relationship comfort level and create room psychically to actually allow a partner in when they do show up. We will be a little less selfish, a little less afraid, a little less apt to allow our screaming committment issues to overwhelm and sabotage. We’ll be a little more ready and a little more willing to see something we might otherwise be blind to had we not done a few simple things to change our minds and hearts about being alone.
It’s not about visualizing a physical thing and… BAM! There it is. But, oh how I wish it were. That sausage press trick totally kicks ass.
The Law of Attraction, the belief that we create our own reality, does not exist to just get us cool stuff. It is not about having hot red sports cars and diamond tiaras drop from the sky merely because we think about them. It is about being conscious of our thoughts and feelings and being the masters of our inner worlds. When we really achieve that, miracles happen because of what we have chosen and what we have changed internally.
We get what we put out – if we are kind and loving and generous we get more of that in return than not. We are what we think – if we are positive and joyful we’re going to have, and be, more and more of the same (good luck having a positive and joyful life if you are a grumpy asshole). And we attract people and experiences that are in alignment with who we are allowing ourselves to be – if we insist on living a certain kind of life we just won’t tolerate or, after a while, even notice anything different.
It’s not magic, it’s just the way things work. But, to me, the results that occur from truly changing one’s emotional make up, one’s inner life experience, can only be described as magical.
Example: The Relationship. The act of making space in our closets, putting up a pair of candles in our bedroom, maybe sleeping on one side of the bed IS NOT going to make the partner of our dreams magically appear. What it IS going to do is raise our relationship comfort level and create room psychically to actually allow a partner in when they do show up. We will be a little less selfish, a little less afraid, a little less apt to allow our screaming committment issues to overwhelm and sabotage. We’ll be a little more ready and a little more willing to see something we might otherwise be blind to had we not done a few simple things to change our minds and hearts about being alone.
It’s not about visualizing a physical thing and… BAM! There it is. But, oh how I wish it were. That sausage press trick totally kicks ass.
Friday, October 23, 2009
A Better Place
"I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again." William Penn
My mother has always taught me to leave the world a better place than I found it. When I go on a walk and see garbage lying around, I hear her voice in my head and, if I can, I do something about it. If there is a garbage can nearby, I pick it up - even if I have to walk a little ways. This used to embarrass my kids sometimes but, oh well. I've embarrassed them in such grander ways - the garbage thing is not what they will remember first. But, my conviction that we need to leave the world a better place than we found it is something I hope they never forget.
Although it doesn't look like it to many, many people, deep in my heart, this actually is what I am doing as I fight for gay rights. I’ve looked around the landscape and seen a lot of garbage that needs cleaning up.
I have written about my difficulty in keeping Angry Woman in check. It is, clearly, not easy for me. My anger is big and it is justified. However, what good does it do to walk along the street and fly into fits of rage at the garbage - ranting and raving and kicking it and cursing those that leave it there? While it may be natural to feel it, it alone gets nothing done. It makes the screamer, me, miserable and actually just adds more crap to the pile. Choice: I can either shut up and ignore it or I can get to work and clean it up.
Obviously I ain't ignoring this one. I am doing my part to clean it up. Reed reminded me of a wonderful quote by Elie Weisel [Night.] “I swore never to be silent whenever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” Sides have been chosen and passions are rising. Both sides are digging in and fighting harder.
The question I keep asking myself is: if I desire to leave the world a better place, am I really accomplishing that by adding to all the negativity and anger flying around? Of course not. I keep being reminded by older generations that the fire of my anger is fueled by my youth. I can see that. Plus, I am still processing the damage of my own religious experience. And I still live in Utah – not at all helpful. I watch older activists and movers and shakers and their rage has morphed from ranting tantrums to more of a quite determination – a strong and clear intention to just move in and resolutely do what needs to be done. I hold them as examples of where I hope to find myself soon because, let's face it, The Queen of Clear Intention is WAY prettier than The Angry Woman of Bitter Shit Slinging. She smells better too.
So, seeing as how I am not moving on from this for a while yet, for my own spiritual and emotional well being – not to mention the place I am trying to make better – it is imperative that I focus more clearly on what I DO want rather than what I DON’T want. That is true for all of us – no matter what issue we are chewing on and wrestling with. I think it is a life truth. The things we say “Yes” to have to be louder, higher on the list and must far outweigh the things we say “No” to.
We have to remember that in saying “No” to bigotry, ignorance, intolerance, violence, hatred… we are actually, and much more importantly, saying “Yes” to equality, enlightenment, tolerance, understanding, peace and love.
I think that our Yes's hold far more power than our No's anyway. I think that in saying “Yes” as courageously and loudly as we can, we will actually find less and less things to say “No” to. And, ultimately, I think it is in saying a ginormous "Yes" to Life and to Love, in their countless forms, that we will all, without question, leave this world an infinitely better place than we found it.
My mother has always taught me to leave the world a better place than I found it. When I go on a walk and see garbage lying around, I hear her voice in my head and, if I can, I do something about it. If there is a garbage can nearby, I pick it up - even if I have to walk a little ways. This used to embarrass my kids sometimes but, oh well. I've embarrassed them in such grander ways - the garbage thing is not what they will remember first. But, my conviction that we need to leave the world a better place than we found it is something I hope they never forget.
Although it doesn't look like it to many, many people, deep in my heart, this actually is what I am doing as I fight for gay rights. I’ve looked around the landscape and seen a lot of garbage that needs cleaning up.
I have written about my difficulty in keeping Angry Woman in check. It is, clearly, not easy for me. My anger is big and it is justified. However, what good does it do to walk along the street and fly into fits of rage at the garbage - ranting and raving and kicking it and cursing those that leave it there? While it may be natural to feel it, it alone gets nothing done. It makes the screamer, me, miserable and actually just adds more crap to the pile. Choice: I can either shut up and ignore it or I can get to work and clean it up.
Obviously I ain't ignoring this one. I am doing my part to clean it up. Reed reminded me of a wonderful quote by Elie Weisel [Night.] “I swore never to be silent whenever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” Sides have been chosen and passions are rising. Both sides are digging in and fighting harder.
The question I keep asking myself is: if I desire to leave the world a better place, am I really accomplishing that by adding to all the negativity and anger flying around? Of course not. I keep being reminded by older generations that the fire of my anger is fueled by my youth. I can see that. Plus, I am still processing the damage of my own religious experience. And I still live in Utah – not at all helpful. I watch older activists and movers and shakers and their rage has morphed from ranting tantrums to more of a quite determination – a strong and clear intention to just move in and resolutely do what needs to be done. I hold them as examples of where I hope to find myself soon because, let's face it, The Queen of Clear Intention is WAY prettier than The Angry Woman of Bitter Shit Slinging. She smells better too.
So, seeing as how I am not moving on from this for a while yet, for my own spiritual and emotional well being – not to mention the place I am trying to make better – it is imperative that I focus more clearly on what I DO want rather than what I DON’T want. That is true for all of us – no matter what issue we are chewing on and wrestling with. I think it is a life truth. The things we say “Yes” to have to be louder, higher on the list and must far outweigh the things we say “No” to.
We have to remember that in saying “No” to bigotry, ignorance, intolerance, violence, hatred… we are actually, and much more importantly, saying “Yes” to equality, enlightenment, tolerance, understanding, peace and love.
I think that our Yes's hold far more power than our No's anyway. I think that in saying “Yes” as courageously and loudly as we can, we will actually find less and less things to say “No” to. And, ultimately, I think it is in saying a ginormous "Yes" to Life and to Love, in their countless forms, that we will all, without question, leave this world an infinitely better place than we found it.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
God Is Not Your Bitch
Another well written, humorous and thought provoking column from the San Francisco Gate's Mark Morford. I love this guy. Many of you will not. Oh well. I'm going to continue to post links anyway because he kicks serious ass. My favorite line: I find I am in a constant swoon of giddy amazement at this universal phenomenon, the fabulous, hubris-loaded idea that God is NOT actually an unfathomable river of cosmic energy to be supped from like liquid light, while you still take complete responsibility for your own life and choices.
Strange things are afoot - not only at the Circle K, but in the heart and soul of this sassy little blogger. Miracles. And the fact that I can even write the word miracle, let alone God, without my colon breaking out in hives is parade worthy.
There is spiritual life on the other side of religious brain damage. Who knew?
Strange things are afoot - not only at the Circle K, but in the heart and soul of this sassy little blogger. Miracles. And the fact that I can even write the word miracle, let alone God, without my colon breaking out in hives is parade worthy.
There is spiritual life on the other side of religious brain damage. Who knew?
Monday, July 6, 2009
Confirmed: God Is Slightly Gay
For an incredibly entertaining and amazingly enlightened read, check out Mark Morford's column in the San Francisco Gate.
I know that this will make many readers that have very specific ideas about God very uncomfortable and squirmy. And, by now, you all know that I consider this to be a very good thing.
Just wish I had written it myself.
I know that this will make many readers that have very specific ideas about God very uncomfortable and squirmy. And, by now, you all know that I consider this to be a very good thing.
Just wish I had written it myself.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Breaking The Rock
I love the image that was used in the speech (below) by Patricia Clarkson at the HRC benefit in New Orleans - taken from the quote by Tennessee Williams "The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks."
It is a theme of "Dancing With Crazy" that has been a big one for me in my life - which you all will read once the damn thing is published. Sheesh. But what a glorious picture: Something as seemingly tiny and fragile as a seed - a flower, breaking through something as seemingly hard and impenetrable as a mountain - a rock.
This speaks to something so much bigger than equal rights and those who are fighting to achieve them (as important as that is). It speaks to the human soul that has been buried and covered and lost in the dark - smashed by the rock of the lies and pain of life. It speaks to the ability we all have, in the deepest parts of our beings, to not give up. To struggle and to grow and to reach for the light. To stand tall and beautiful, having fought the fight of a lifetime, with our hearts and petals open and alive in the sunshine.
There is no feeling that comes close. Except maybe love. Because that is, ultimately, what it is. Love. Love of Self. Love of Life. And, Love of that word that I have only recently begun even speaking again. God. (I think I just heard several of you fall off your chairs.)
Coochie. Coochie. Coochie.
So, I just got back from a quick trip to LA. Saw the Long Beach production of "Facing East." It was a wonderful weekend of book and film schmoozing and creating and making peace with the city that tried to kill me two decades ago. All was fantabulous until my flight home.
Okay, I get the whole "terrorists exist therefore you must get naked before boarding and not carry anything containing liquid that is bigger than a freaking pimple" but come on... Long beach is a very small airport. The happy people that worked the ticket counter, also worked the gate and had left by the time we got there to check baggage. I was not able to check my bags. So at the security check point I explained that NO ONE was there to check my bags and that I was not packed for carrying on. I was informed that there was nothing to be done and they proceeded to go through my luggage and toss out ALL my (not inexpensive) shampoo, conditioner, face wash, lotion, body spray, toothpaste, deodorant... They weirdly let me keep my gallon jug of anal lube. Not sure what that was about.
So, I'm balling and bitching to the Airline Gods who tried to appease me by giving me a seat close to David Archuleta. It was sweet of them but I really think that I had earned Blair Underwood or Johnny Depp considering the rude fashion in which they had just raped me.
Good thing I still had my lube.
It is a theme of "Dancing With Crazy" that has been a big one for me in my life - which you all will read once the damn thing is published. Sheesh. But what a glorious picture: Something as seemingly tiny and fragile as a seed - a flower, breaking through something as seemingly hard and impenetrable as a mountain - a rock.
This speaks to something so much bigger than equal rights and those who are fighting to achieve them (as important as that is). It speaks to the human soul that has been buried and covered and lost in the dark - smashed by the rock of the lies and pain of life. It speaks to the ability we all have, in the deepest parts of our beings, to not give up. To struggle and to grow and to reach for the light. To stand tall and beautiful, having fought the fight of a lifetime, with our hearts and petals open and alive in the sunshine.
There is no feeling that comes close. Except maybe love. Because that is, ultimately, what it is. Love. Love of Self. Love of Life. And, Love of that word that I have only recently begun even speaking again. God. (I think I just heard several of you fall off your chairs.)
Coochie. Coochie. Coochie.
So, I just got back from a quick trip to LA. Saw the Long Beach production of "Facing East." It was a wonderful weekend of book and film schmoozing and creating and making peace with the city that tried to kill me two decades ago. All was fantabulous until my flight home.
Okay, I get the whole "terrorists exist therefore you must get naked before boarding and not carry anything containing liquid that is bigger than a freaking pimple" but come on... Long beach is a very small airport. The happy people that worked the ticket counter, also worked the gate and had left by the time we got there to check baggage. I was not able to check my bags. So at the security check point I explained that NO ONE was there to check my bags and that I was not packed for carrying on. I was informed that there was nothing to be done and they proceeded to go through my luggage and toss out ALL my (not inexpensive) shampoo, conditioner, face wash, lotion, body spray, toothpaste, deodorant... They weirdly let me keep my gallon jug of anal lube. Not sure what that was about.
So, I'm balling and bitching to the Airline Gods who tried to appease me by giving me a seat close to David Archuleta. It was sweet of them but I really think that I had earned Blair Underwood or Johnny Depp considering the rude fashion in which they had just raped me.
Good thing I still had my lube.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
No Explanation Needed
I have been thinking a lot lately about the quote I have at the top of this blog: "For those who understand, no explanation is needed. For those who do not understand, no explanation is possible."
Obviously, I initially chose that because it stated the experience of myself and others that have left the Mormon Church. For those who know what it is like to have one's beliefs wash away with the tides and to suddenly see things from a completely new and alive and expansive and free perspective, trying to get someone who still believes to understand (let alone accept) is near impossible.
And, by the same token, a person who fervently believes with a faith that is sweet and life giving and solid and, yes - alive and expansive and free, who has no need to question or challenge that faith cannot get someone who doesn't "get it" or "have it" to understand or respect the things they know to be true.
Let's face it, us Ex-Mo's can better understand where the TBM's (True Blue Mormons) are coming from (if we can get over our big, fat selves) because we were once there. We at least have a memory of what it was like to have a "testimony." While The TBM's have no idea what it is like to see things from where we stand, and are often judgemental and fearful of what our choices mean for us - and, potentially, for them.
But it is precisely because of our "former testimonies" and "new found truths" that we Ex-Mo's can be so hard on the TBM's and judge them for all the things that still being Mormon means to us. Because "The Church" is no longer a place we believe in and can grow in - because it is no longer a place that houses our truth - we have a tendency to think that that should, therefore, be the case for everyone. It's not.
Remember the exercise (with it's many varieties) of a room full of people staring at a door that has been placed in the middle of the room? One side is painted red, the other side is painted blue. Both sides of the room are asked to describe what they see. One side insists that the door is red while the other side insists that it is blue. And both are right because what they see is what they see. My truth is that the door I am looking at is red. Is someone looking at the blue side of the door wrong? No. I have to accept that what is true for me is not at all what is true for them.
We are all where we are - looking at the truth in front of us. Our truth is our truth. I really believe that we are all where we are until we don't need to be there anymore. We are where we need to be until it no longer works or serves us. Until we can no longer grow where we find ourselves planted. When that becomes the case we re-examine the religion, relationship, occupation, school, house - whatever it is that no longer works - and we make new choices accordingly.
The trick is to do our very, very best to respect those that see a different color door and to not insist that the color we see is the only true color. Because the truth is that there are doors and paths of all different colors and they all lead us to the same place. We can share our colors with others, describe them in the most detailed and enticing way possible, but if they choose not to leave the side of the door they are looking at because they really and truly love the color they see it is really none of our business.
Bottom line to me is - we are all where we are because that is where we are. Period. End of story. No explanation needed.
Obviously, I initially chose that because it stated the experience of myself and others that have left the Mormon Church. For those who know what it is like to have one's beliefs wash away with the tides and to suddenly see things from a completely new and alive and expansive and free perspective, trying to get someone who still believes to understand (let alone accept) is near impossible.
And, by the same token, a person who fervently believes with a faith that is sweet and life giving and solid and, yes - alive and expansive and free, who has no need to question or challenge that faith cannot get someone who doesn't "get it" or "have it" to understand or respect the things they know to be true.
Let's face it, us Ex-Mo's can better understand where the TBM's (True Blue Mormons) are coming from (if we can get over our big, fat selves) because we were once there. We at least have a memory of what it was like to have a "testimony." While The TBM's have no idea what it is like to see things from where we stand, and are often judgemental and fearful of what our choices mean for us - and, potentially, for them.
But it is precisely because of our "former testimonies" and "new found truths" that we Ex-Mo's can be so hard on the TBM's and judge them for all the things that still being Mormon means to us. Because "The Church" is no longer a place we believe in and can grow in - because it is no longer a place that houses our truth - we have a tendency to think that that should, therefore, be the case for everyone. It's not.
Remember the exercise (with it's many varieties) of a room full of people staring at a door that has been placed in the middle of the room? One side is painted red, the other side is painted blue. Both sides of the room are asked to describe what they see. One side insists that the door is red while the other side insists that it is blue. And both are right because what they see is what they see. My truth is that the door I am looking at is red. Is someone looking at the blue side of the door wrong? No. I have to accept that what is true for me is not at all what is true for them.
We are all where we are - looking at the truth in front of us. Our truth is our truth. I really believe that we are all where we are until we don't need to be there anymore. We are where we need to be until it no longer works or serves us. Until we can no longer grow where we find ourselves planted. When that becomes the case we re-examine the religion, relationship, occupation, school, house - whatever it is that no longer works - and we make new choices accordingly.
The trick is to do our very, very best to respect those that see a different color door and to not insist that the color we see is the only true color. Because the truth is that there are doors and paths of all different colors and they all lead us to the same place. We can share our colors with others, describe them in the most detailed and enticing way possible, but if they choose not to leave the side of the door they are looking at because they really and truly love the color they see it is really none of our business.
Bottom line to me is - we are all where we are because that is where we are. Period. End of story. No explanation needed.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Adventures Of Angry Woman
Raise your hand if you thought I was going to write about the upholding of Prop 8.
Nope. Sorry to disappoint / happy to relieve – which ever the case may be.
No big surprise to long time followers of this blog, I have, for some time now, been living the Adventures of Angry Woman. I think we would all agree that this is much better than The Sad Little Tale of Victim Girl that used to be my life story, but – Halleluiah – it is time for these particular adventures to come to an end.
I have resisted heading in this direction with y’all because it involves a great deal of my own personal… I can hardly write the word… spirituality. Not that I have a hard time with my spirituality in my private life but publicly, here on this blog, I would be far more comfortable discussing my coochie than the inner workings of my soul. Not that I AM going to discuss my coochie mind you – it's just that, as humans, our spirituality is far more private than absolutely anything else. Even our sexuality. At least mine is.
When I had my religious melt down and wiped the slate clean, as I’ve said a hundred times, literally everything was thrown out and labeled bullshit. After a while I was aware that there were many things that would not accept (in fact, actively rejected) that label but were far off in the wings waiting lovingly, and oh so patiently, for me to be ready to look at them again.
To say that I hated God is a gross understatement. If anyone said the word I nearly started shaking with rage and, quite literally, had to breathe deeply in order to not cry or destroy furniture. Eventually I was willing to make the concession that IF there was a God that actually existed, it was NOT the God that I had beaten myself with like a bat and had “tested” and “tried” me into an emotional grave.
Roughly four years after the Tsunami hit I realized that I missed Spirituality – that I am, by nature, a deeply spiritual person but had no idea where to even put that. Then, one day I was talking with a good friend who said to me, “No, I don’t believe in God. But I am a very spiritual person.” My brain stroked out. One could have a spiritual life that didn’t include GOD??? It made no sense to me. I had never even considered such a thing. But consider it I did. And it made all the difference in the world.
I started dipping my little toes into my own little spiritual pool and it felt wonderful. Then, like becoming accustomed to a hot tub that is a few degrees higher than one is used to I very slowly and carefully lowered myself in. Then I started dog paddling. Then swimming. Then splashing and playing while I did my laps. It was glorious. Until I hit the Anger Wall.
Prop 8 happened. And in my personal life I was thrust into a battle that was vastly important but ugly and exhausting. I found myself in big time war mode and all spiritual life stopped. Things on the battle front calmed significantly but I was still hanging onto the battery acid-like fury in my gut. A few weeks ago I realized that Joy in my life was being held at bay by none other than my very own self and that I needed to let go of all the anger I’d been holding towards two specific individuals and one very specific church.
We know that underneath depression lies unexamined anger. And underneath anger lies unexamined grief and pain. The great illusion of life is that pain is something to be feared and avoided. Oh, it is sooo not. Pain is something to be embraced and breathed through and let go of and made better because of. Pain, anger and fear are three of our greatest teachers. And on the other side of moved through pain-anger-fear is the Land of Happy Happy Joy Joy.
Decades of being me have taught me how to do my, for lack of a better term, “Inner Work” and so I dove in and did it. I let go of, forgave, worked through and was instantly hit by a tidal wave of all things indescribably good. Now I find myself totally immersed back in a spiritual ocean in which I alternate between underwater ballet (Esther Williams style - complete with sparklers and a trapeze) and riding the waves a million miles an hour.
I’m still human and things will, without question, still piss me off. But, I think I'm done being Angry Woman. It ain’t no fun. I much prefer happiness and creativity to the emotional death of being a pitchfork throwing mob of one.
So, there you have it. Emily is spiritually alive. Very much so. Do I believe in God? With all my heart. Does that God remotely resemble the God I thought I knew all my life? Not even close. Am I totally and completely freaking that I am writing all this publicly? You have no idea.
Now, about my coochie…
Nope. Sorry to disappoint / happy to relieve – which ever the case may be.
No big surprise to long time followers of this blog, I have, for some time now, been living the Adventures of Angry Woman. I think we would all agree that this is much better than The Sad Little Tale of Victim Girl that used to be my life story, but – Halleluiah – it is time for these particular adventures to come to an end.
I have resisted heading in this direction with y’all because it involves a great deal of my own personal… I can hardly write the word… spirituality. Not that I have a hard time with my spirituality in my private life but publicly, here on this blog, I would be far more comfortable discussing my coochie than the inner workings of my soul. Not that I AM going to discuss my coochie mind you – it's just that, as humans, our spirituality is far more private than absolutely anything else. Even our sexuality. At least mine is.
When I had my religious melt down and wiped the slate clean, as I’ve said a hundred times, literally everything was thrown out and labeled bullshit. After a while I was aware that there were many things that would not accept (in fact, actively rejected) that label but were far off in the wings waiting lovingly, and oh so patiently, for me to be ready to look at them again.
To say that I hated God is a gross understatement. If anyone said the word I nearly started shaking with rage and, quite literally, had to breathe deeply in order to not cry or destroy furniture. Eventually I was willing to make the concession that IF there was a God that actually existed, it was NOT the God that I had beaten myself with like a bat and had “tested” and “tried” me into an emotional grave.
Roughly four years after the Tsunami hit I realized that I missed Spirituality – that I am, by nature, a deeply spiritual person but had no idea where to even put that. Then, one day I was talking with a good friend who said to me, “No, I don’t believe in God. But I am a very spiritual person.” My brain stroked out. One could have a spiritual life that didn’t include GOD??? It made no sense to me. I had never even considered such a thing. But consider it I did. And it made all the difference in the world.
I started dipping my little toes into my own little spiritual pool and it felt wonderful. Then, like becoming accustomed to a hot tub that is a few degrees higher than one is used to I very slowly and carefully lowered myself in. Then I started dog paddling. Then swimming. Then splashing and playing while I did my laps. It was glorious. Until I hit the Anger Wall.
Prop 8 happened. And in my personal life I was thrust into a battle that was vastly important but ugly and exhausting. I found myself in big time war mode and all spiritual life stopped. Things on the battle front calmed significantly but I was still hanging onto the battery acid-like fury in my gut. A few weeks ago I realized that Joy in my life was being held at bay by none other than my very own self and that I needed to let go of all the anger I’d been holding towards two specific individuals and one very specific church.
We know that underneath depression lies unexamined anger. And underneath anger lies unexamined grief and pain. The great illusion of life is that pain is something to be feared and avoided. Oh, it is sooo not. Pain is something to be embraced and breathed through and let go of and made better because of. Pain, anger and fear are three of our greatest teachers. And on the other side of moved through pain-anger-fear is the Land of Happy Happy Joy Joy.
Decades of being me have taught me how to do my, for lack of a better term, “Inner Work” and so I dove in and did it. I let go of, forgave, worked through and was instantly hit by a tidal wave of all things indescribably good. Now I find myself totally immersed back in a spiritual ocean in which I alternate between underwater ballet (Esther Williams style - complete with sparklers and a trapeze) and riding the waves a million miles an hour.
I’m still human and things will, without question, still piss me off. But, I think I'm done being Angry Woman. It ain’t no fun. I much prefer happiness and creativity to the emotional death of being a pitchfork throwing mob of one.
So, there you have it. Emily is spiritually alive. Very much so. Do I believe in God? With all my heart. Does that God remotely resemble the God I thought I knew all my life? Not even close. Am I totally and completely freaking that I am writing all this publicly? You have no idea.
Now, about my coochie…
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