Considering the World

September 10, 2014

Here we are, on our way home from Hannibal, Missouri, the childhood home of Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) and the office of a lovely oral surgeon who was good enough to remove my eldest child’s wisdom teeth from her small, crowded mouth so that her braces might be more effective in correcting her teeth. Little of that is relevant to this blogpost, but since when have I limited myself to the relevant?

Long drives are good for conversations. Denny and I have been talking while Farra snoozes in the backseat, gauze hanging out of her mouth. 

I’m fascinated by landscapes. I’m fascinated by humankind's impact upon the earth. (More pleasantly by the former, less so by the latter.) This particular trip took us further north in our state than I’ve ever been. As we got up past St. Louis the land began to stretch out in bigger, flatter fields of corn, a little less rolling with less rugged forest than we have down in the St. Francois Mountain foothills. I consider the scenery and imagine it in other parts of the world. I marvel at the vastness of our small planet. So much happening on this little earthship floating around space.

And look at all these buildings, these roads, these motor vehicles transporting people hither, thither and home. Yes, I think about ants and how we are similar in many ways.

Once upon a time, humankind didn’t exist. Now we rule the world and have unveiled the Apple Watch.

Look at what we are capable of!

I’m growing fond of Apple. Actually, the only time I have ever seen a gadget advertised that I felt drawn to was when the first iPad was released. I remember thinking, “Now THAT is cool.”  They have a remarkable way of bringing amazing technological advances to the layperson. Few people have heard of the Large Hadron Collider, one of the world’s largest machines and a fascinating example of what humankind can do when it puts its collective mind to something (watch Particle Fever if you get a chance), but I don’t know anyone personally who doesn’t own an i-something or at least know what it is.

So what?

Well, so we privileged 1st-worlders are without excuse. When you look at the technological advances in the last 100 years, in the last 50 years, and project forward at the same rate of progress, you see we are capable of doing what we need to do to save ourselves.

And we need this. We have royally f**ked things up. If the rate of destruction continues without intervention, our species simply won’t last and, to boot, we’ll take a large number of other species with us on our way out of existence.

No, it’s not all us. Even if we get our shite together this planet has an end-date. If not by asteroid sooner, we will eventually be fried and absorbed by the growing star we call Sun. This planet has an expiration date. In as little as a few hundred million years (yes, very little in the grand scheme of things) Earth will likely be inhospitable. 

Wouldn’t it be nice to be comfortably established in a new solar system by then?

And why not, I say? We are fully capable of preventing our self-destruction and coming up with a way to get off of this rock when we need to, before it becomes an unbearable sauna.

But is humankind thinking of these things? Mostly no. We haven’t made it over our excitement of the Apple Watch and how it will improve our daily jog.

I’ve thought a great deal lately about the evolution of humankind. In a way our collective species focuses on our primitive needs; food, water, shelter, reproduction; not so different from other animals. Because of our consciousness we tend to take these things to excess, always striving for more. Tastier food (not necessarily more nutritious), larger homes filled with more stuff, sexual partners to satisfy all of our desires. Yes, we are so focused on these things. We create industries out of need and desire. We run, run, run, trying to have it all plus a bag of Jelly Babies. We want to feel good. Turn on the TV. It’s all about feeling good.

But there ARE people who are thinking of other things. I like to think it’s part of our evolution. Maybe someday, if we haven’t killed ourselves first, the collective humankind will focus more on what is good for us (and other species) than what feels good. (Insert Star Trek references here.)

It wasn’t that long ago that my focus was very limited. My world revolved around my home, my husband, my children, living righteously, and looking to the return of Christ, just as the Bible says a woman’s world should.

Titus 2 tells older women to “admonish the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, homemakers, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be blasphemed.”

Later in the same chapter, “For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in the present age, looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.”

I took those words to heart.Also these:  1 Thessalonians 4: “Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before.”

As a believer I needn’t worry, God had things under control. I did, still, I admit. Occasionally. And about things that hit close to home.  But the future of humankind was laid out in scripture. We were to do our best here on earth in the time that we had, acting our part in God’s grand play, for he had a wonderful future in store for us: admittance to his kingdom. That was all we needed to focus on.

I see this all around me here in the bible belt. People who take God’s word somewhat seriously, people who believe he is returning soon. They act accordingly. What do you suppose that looks like? How do you suppose that effects the collective mind?

Denny and I have an acquaintance, a local religious man with whom we’re friends on Facebook. Time and again he tells us, “I don’t care if you believe or not, so why do you care if I do?” 

For starters, that doesn’t make him a very good christian.  That aside, I care because what we believe about the world determines the way we act. The way we act determines the outcome of our species, many other species, and the earth itself. I care very much about this because we’re all in this together.

Inevitably these thoughts and conversations come down to, “Well, what can I do about it?”

Denny has lived most of his life as an activist. He has observed, studied, contemplated, and acted; all in the name of the betterment of humankind. 

I was going to go somewhere else with that. I was going to contrast it with the way I had been living my life inside my bubble. But it strikes me that I was doing the same thing with my life, as are many sincere bible believers today. We just had/have a different set of facts before us on which to act.

Hmmm.

Believers will ask, “Wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry?”  They suppose that we would all be better off assuming there is a god, so that when we die we can live in eternal bliss. (They also assume we have some ability to believe in things that we don’t believe in, as though it were a switch we could flip.)

Why not turn it around? Why not ask the believers to consider living as though Jesus isn’t coming back, as though this life is all we have, that this world is all we will be able to pass on to our children when we die. How, then, would we live?

Denny did spend his time in a considerably different sort of active, thoughtful way. He poured every ounce of energy he had into making a difference in the world. In a way, after many years, he burned out. He didn’t stop caring—well, not entirely—but he changed focus. Me, I am only just now beginning to see the world the way it really is, to see humankind's possible demise contrasted with our potential. I’m excited, amazed, saddened, outraged, thrilled, afraid, hopeful…

Our conversations have been interesting, to say the least.

A teacher at heart, I always want to know how to apply things practically. How do we take all of these thoughts and put them to good use in our lives? What do we teach our children?

There must be some balance. Ahhh, you knew I was going to say that, didn’t you?

If this life is all we have, both our personal lives and the life of humankind on earth, then why not make the most of it? Why not just enjoy it? There’s no end to the things I find beautiful and just plain enjoyable. I’d need eight lives to cover it all.

But can we balance it with living considerately, with a mind to the future. It’s so cliche, but it really does come down to individuals. If everyone made decisions and lived each day with tomorrow in their sights…  No, it doesn’t seem like much when it’s just you, but it matters. “Just you,” not only makes a difference, you make an impression on others and the effect snowballs.

You don’t need me to tell you all the things you can do to make a difference. If you really can’t think of something, that’s what Google is for. But please, don’t just leave it to someone else. What if all the someone elses decided to leave it to someone else?

Work with me, people. Work and play and enjoy a meaningful meaningless life with me.

Escape from Duggarville: How playing the good Christian housewife almost killed me

I'm not sure about the headline with the word "Duggarville," but this article by Vyckie Garrison of No Longer Quivering is pure excellence. She quite succinctly describes the ins and outs of spiritual abuse. I highly recommend taking the time to read this if you have any curiosity at all regarding spiritual abuse or the Quiverful movement. 
This was my life, folks.

A few points:

Based on a literalist interpretation of Psalm 127, Quiverfull families eschew all forms of birth control. They have a high regard for the patriarchal family structure found in the Old Testament which emphasizes hierarchy, authority, and strict gender roles for men, women, boys, and girls.

 The reason you can find Quiverfull families in nearly every type of Christian congregation is because Quiverfull beliefs are not actually a radical departure from traditional Christian teachings regarding marriage and family. It is my contention that Quiverfull IS regular Christianity writ large … lived out to its logical conclusion.

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For instance: the signs of emotional abuse include put downs, shaming, and guilt-tripping. Well, this is something my husband would never do … there really was no need since I was already fully aware of my inherently sinful nature, my “desperately wicked heart,” … He didn’t need to remind me that even my very best efforts were like filthy rags in comparison to God’s holiness.

 Plus, I knew that as a woman, I was particularly susceptible to deception by Satan. How many times, when we were discussing an important decision, had my husband said to me, “What you are suggesting SOUNDS reasonable, but how do I know that Satan isn’t using you to deceive me?”

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My husband didn’t intentionally isolate me and the children … it just kind of happened as a logical progression of our decision to live radically for Jesus.

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Sure there were times when submitting to my husband’s decisions was a hassle, and yes, the pregnancies nearly killed me every time, BUT … who was I to complain, considering everything that Jesus had done for me? 

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I wouldn’t say that my husband used male privilege to control and dominate me and the kids. Male privilege was his rightful position. As Paul says in the book of 1 Corinthians, “For man did not come from woman, but woman from man. And man was not created for woman, but woman for man.

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Economic abuse? Well sure, money was always tight, but hey, finances were no picnic for my husband either, and besides, we had these promises …My God will supply all my needs,” and “I have never seen a righteous man forsaken or his children begging for bread” … It was really just a matter of trust, plus careful money management.

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 “No, he never threatened me.” I *willingly* went along with all the harsh demands of the Quiverfull lifestyle and, in many instances, I was the one who pushed patriarchy and headship ON HIM. Why would I do that?

The Unhappy Medium

The man to the right, the one with the preposterous eyebrows, is Tim Brown, aka T.J. Brown, Comedic Author Extraordinaire.  (At least, that's what his mum writes on his lunchbox.)  He is also my very good friend. What? No, I'm not ashamed to say it. Hmm? No, we shall not mention the incident with the jellied eels and the monks. Moving on now.     

I met the infamous Brown last May in an atheist group on Goodreads, where I was promoting my book, offering it free in exchange for honest reviews. Tim took me up on it and offered me a copy of his e-book in return, which I accepted, read, and laughed all the way through. (And reviewed, because as an indie-author I know reviews are gold!) Tim said he would be reading my book on his upcoming holiday and sent notes keeping me posted regarding his progress. After we'd read and reviewed each other's books we could have gone our separate ways, but we didn't. We began discussing independent publishing and writing and the rest, as they say, is best served with tartar sauce.  

Here's a bit about Tim from his website, theunhappymedium.com

T J Brown was born in Dorset during the 1960s but was too young to realise how good the decade was meant to be. Instead, he had to make do with the 1970s, which only became interesting towards the end when many, Brown included, started wearing charity-shop clothes and swearing. Conscription into arts school was at this time mandatory and as a result Brown found himself reading German literature, creating miserable paintings and performing music that in retrospect, and at the time, was dreadful. 

After three lost years at art school Brown moved to London to begin five lost years on the margins of the capital’s fashionable underbelly. 

After all that, a career in publishing almost came as a relief. And so, after many years producing illustrated books on astronomy and aviation, Brown returned to his love of comic writing. 

The result is THE UNHAPPY MEDIUM.

And here's a bit about The Unhappy Medium:

When even the laws of physics let you down, the absurd, the ludicrous and the frankly impossible may be all you have left. 

Dr Newton Barlow has everything a theoretical physicist could ask for – a glittering career both in the lab and on television, a beautiful wife, and best of all, the opportunity to promote his rock-solid certainty that supernatural and religious beliefs are nothing but complete and utter hokum. 

But Barlow is about to take a tumble. Mired in accusations of fraud, incompetence and malpractice, Newton is cast out from the scientific establishment and ejected from the family home. With his life in tatters, he descends into a wine-sodden wilderness.  

Then, after three lost years, Barlow is suddenly approached by his old mentor and fellow sceptic Dr Sixsmith with an extraordinary proposition, an offer that Newton simply cannot refuse. There’s just one small problem:  

Dr Sixsmith is dead. 

Thrown headlong into a new reality that simply shouldn’t exist, Dr Newton Barlow is about to come up against the best and the worst of human nature: tooled-up vicars, paper-pushing ancient Greeks, sinister property developers, a saucy rubber nun and possibly the most mean-spirited man ever to have walked the earth (twice). 
From the dusty plains of Spain to the leafy vicarages of Hampshire, Dr Barlow will have to contradict everything he ever believed in if he wants to save this world – and the next.

I encourage you to go buy Tim's book on Amazon right now. It'll be the best $5 you'll spend this week. One of the most enjoyable books I've ever read. But, if you are apprehensive about taking the chance (and who wouldn't be, seeing the dubious character in the photo above), I'll let you in on the latest news:  The Unhappy Medium can be downloaded free from Amazon tomorrow, all day long and to your heart's content.

And I'll let you in on a little secret... I've read the first few, albeit rough, chapters of the sequel Tim is working on and it's fantastic! Everything we love about the first and more. So, when you read The Unhappy Medium and find yourself agonizing over the fact that you've reached the last page, rest assured T.J. Brown will not fail us. (He dare not; I know where he lives and the foods he loathes. Conveniently, I also have direct access to his partner, Hazel, who knows how to give the back of his head a sound smack.)

What are you still doing here? Go read The Unhappy Medium.  And do be a good reader and leave Tim a review.

Free To Be-- Revised Cover

Now, I don't know why we didn't think of it sooner, it seems so obvious now, but a friend suggested we try a more upbeat image for Free to Be.   I love what we've come up with!  What do you think?

The other is very appropriate for the pensiveness that was a significant part of my first year out of christianity, but ultimately it's a story about rejoicing and being free.

My Sentiments Exactly -- Contentment

Every so often I read something that makes me cry out, "Oh god, no! Don't lick that gila monster! Save yourself!"  But this post has nothing to do with that.

Other times I read articles and blog posts that make me exclaim, quite differently, "Yes!  This! My sentiments exactly!" I'm pretty sure that, if I don't get too far off track, this blog post will be about this.

I want to share these things with my readers (not the gila monster thing; that's just sick and wrong). I don't want to reinvent the wheel, wasting my time and yours (and insulting the original author besides), trying to say something that's already been beautifully said. I played around with my blog design some, trying to decide on the best method to share this sort of thing.  Unless you have a better idea, I'm just going to post links as regular entries, with the label, "My Sentiment's Exactly."   I may or may not say much about the link.

The first of such things that I would like to share is this amazing blog entry that a friend of mine shared on Facebook.  I'm not familiar with the blogger, but this is one of those gems that makes me want to go back and stalk read more of the author's posts.

Give Me Gratitude or Give Me Debt

...As I lay down to sleep, I remembered this passage from Thoreau’s Walden: “I say beware of all enterprises that require new clothes and not a new wearer of the clothes.” Walden reminds me that when I feel lacking- I don’t need new things, I need new eyes with which to see the things I already have. So when I woke up this morning, I walked into my kitchen wearing fresh perspectacles.

Just go read it already. I'll be here when you get back.

I can relate to this.  I have done this a hundred gazillion times; made the mistake of looking at my lack instead of my abundance. I have just recently been found guilty of being discontent with my kitchen.  All it needs is some TLC-- a little paint stripper and poly on the cabinets, for instance--but it's FULL of TLC on a daily basis. I do try to take care of the kitchen itself, but my tender loving care goes into the people first, the food second, the cast iron third, the trusty old steel knives fourth, the breadboard my dad made just for me fifth, the colony of crickets under the fridge sixth...   You get the idea.  I'm thankful to have a kitchen full of useful items, full of items with character--and even the wear and tear shows that we spend a lot of time there--full of love.  Days that Denny and I cook together and dance to Poi Dog Pondering with the children joining in... those are the best moments of my life. But yes, all those things the author of the blog wrote; all of that.

That discontent sneaks in everywhere, doesn't it? Focusing on the lack gets me catches me out every time. My kitchen, my yard, my home, my children, my spouse, myself. Even reading this person's lovely blog post was a subtle reminder that I haven't been keeping up with my blogs, haven't been writing the way I used to, the way I could.

All thanks to the Flying Spaghetti Monster for the people in my life who don't grow tired of smacking me upside the proverbial head and pointing out the abundance of my life, the richness, the skills and talents I possess that I too often look right past.  (Yeah, you know who you are.)

Mind-boggling Freedom

A friend shared this amazing quote with me today.

When I became convinced that the Universe is natural--that all the ghosts and gods are myths, there entered into my brain, into my soul, into every drop of my blood, the sense, the feeling, the joy of freedom. The walls of my prison crumbled and fell, the dungeon was flooded with light, and all the bolts, and bars, and manacles became dust. I was no longer a servant, a serf, or a slave. There was for me no master in all the wide world--not even in infinite space. I was free--free to think, to express my thoughts--free to live to my own ideal--free to live for myself and those I loved--free to use all my faculties, all my senses--free to spread imagination's wings--free to investigate, to guess and dream and hope--free to judge and determine for myself--free to reject all ignorant and cruel creeds, all the "inspired" books that savages have produced, and all the barbarous legends of the past--free from popes and priests--free from all the "called" and "set apart"--free from sanctified mistakes and holy lies--free from the fear of eternal pain--free from the winged monsters of the night--free from devils, ghosts, and gods. For the first time I was free. There were no prohibited places in all the realms of thought--no air, no space, where fancy could not spread her painted wings--no chains for my limbs--no lashes for my back--no fires for my flesh--no master's frown or threat--no following another's steps- -no need to bow, or cringe, or crawl, or utter lying words. I was free. I stood erect and fearlessly, joyously, faced all worlds.

-- Robert G. Ingersoll (1833-1899)

A Dusty Letter

 

This afternoon while Denny and I were rearranging our bedroom a bit, I found a dusty letter on a shelf. I recognized my own handwriting. Well, it’s always interesting to come across notes of a writer tucked away here and there, even if the writer is myself. I’m a curious sort. I dusted it off and read it aloud to Denny. It was addressed to my heavenly father, Yahweh. (And like a good girl I’d written the date on it.)

  

3/16/11

Father, 

Years ago you asked me to lay aside my hurt and pain and forgive my husband. You asked me to lay aside my rights (or what I thought were my rights) and to let you love Bobby through me. I did my best and saw my marriage restored. 

Little did I know you would ask this of me every day thenceforth!

I find myself today with a  hard, guarded heart and a mediocre marriage. I’m not miserable (most of the time), but I’m also far from happy. I know I’m not being the wife I should be (Proverbs 31:12 is the most convicting verse in scripture!) and that I won’t know happiness until I’m fulfilling my proper role. 

It’s so easy to forget that I was created for Bobby… and not the other way around. I focus so much on how neglected I am… how awful it is to have an unappreciative mate who may love, but seems incapable of showing it. Then comes the nauseating realization that he wakes up each day to a controlling, prickly sort of woman who doesn’t show him respect.

It’s tempting to attempt a change in my attitude with a sigh, “Guess I have to go first again,” in hopes of drawing from him the love and affection I need.

A change in my attitude IS needed, but not for that reason—I will always fall short if that is my goal. No, I need to change because I am not walking in my father’s will. 

Father, I feel like there is a huge wall around me, built to keep me safe, but it’s dark and lonely inside. 

There are things Bobby has said and done that hurt me, but I feel that bringing anything up to him will only hurt him, make him feel inadequate, and that a new method is required. I don’t feel up to it, Yahweh. I think I should just let it all go… forgive him silently and respect him unconditionally. 

I have carried a rather low opinion of him for some time, keeping him at arm’s length because he’s not who I think he should be and it’s not right. It’s not even practical. Who can grow into a man under such conditions? And besides, who could live up to my unreasonable standards anyway? 

Help me, Father.

Denny was floored. I sought the comfort of his embrace and had myself a good cry. Just prior to this we had been discussing the book I'm working on, which covers my teen years, my rocky marriage, my religiosity. Timely.

Man... It’s so good to be free.

Bobby and I had been together for just over twelve years when I wrote that. Justin would have been only about six weeks old.

I see so much here that overwhelms me. Naturally there are the memories. There’s not a part of this that I don’t remember and feel keenly, especially when contrasted with my present freedom, joy and wonderfully fulfilling partnership. There’s part of me that continues to occasionally grieve for that young lady, as well as to rejoice. It’s a mix of things. And tiny part of me is angry. Flat-out angry. Mostly with religion, with the Biblical doctrine that says women are created for men and must respect them whether or not they deserve it. Angry with the doctrine that can foster and feed such self-loathing and guilt as is displayed here, and keep someone spending their last ounces of energy trying to bail out a sinking, hole-riddled life boat.

In the midst of the bad, I see good things here. Though the trait of selflessness was out of balance in my life, I still am rather glad I developed that way of thinking for it’s helped me to be a better mother than I would have been. And wife; it wasn’t appreciated then, but it is now. (I still have to be careful now to take care of myself, to not give so much of myself that I wither. Balance in all things.) My tenacity is also appreciated by Denny, my determination and thoughtfulness, my desperation to sort things out and have healthy relationships. I have carried these things into my new marriage and friendships; they are valued highly and reciprocated.

Yes, these are good traits, but abused by some, especially the religious. It’s sobering. 

I feel like I’ve come so far, so fast. If you’ve read Free to Be you’ve gained some idea of how quickly my paradigms shifted and how my happiness grew just in the first year. I’m coming up on the 2nd anniversary of laying the Bible down and I don’t regret a single step of the way. Much of it just sort of happened, but I made some important decisions in there, too. I am so very, very happy.

I’ve said it before and will say it again: if there is a god, he’s treated me far better since I rejected him than he ever did when I served him.