"Man, Do you have any idea what I'd do to be able to draw like that? - Anything but study and practice I mean."
- Me
Self control. It's always been my weakness. Weakness? No, it's been my fucking Nemesis. You really just have to look at me to see that I have problems with self control, but it goes far beyond just the physical.
I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I feel like I'm a lot of wasted potential. I could really be someone neat, but it would require some self-deprivation. I could learn to play guitar, if I could make myself sit through the boring stuff at first, where you really can't play anything good, and your fingers hurt like hell. I think I've got a decent personality, and I've got a lot of love and care to give, I could maybe date more, have a girlfriend, hell-even get remarried someday, IF I could get some exercise and stop eating when I don't need to. I could be a lot better at my job, I could get promoted, move up, make more $, if I could make myself study stuff I'm not really very interested in. I'd even like to write more here on my blog, if I didn't crave the instant relief of silly entertainment after work.
You get the point, though I could go on. Tons of potential, zero motivation. That's me to a 'T'. I've been thinking a lot about it lately. I've felt bad. Bad about myself, like I'm dying by degrees and yet not willing to stop it. I feel like time is slipping by me and I only care enough to be sad about it. I've been trying to figure out why.
I think it started, like so much else, with my depression. I eventually got to a point where I was so down that anything, anything, that required even a little discomfort got to be too much. I was already feeling like hammered crap, how could I willingly subject myself to more discomfort? I was at my limit already. just like being fat, I didn't get this lazy overnight. I can remember doing lots of things that I didn't have to do, things that were work, but still seemed worth it.
It seems natural, I can follow the progression. I just woke up one morning and realized that I didn't want to do anything that I didn't absolutely have to. I didn't want to cook, didn't want to read for anything but pleasure, talk on the phone, be social, be crafty, go out to a movie, learn, exercise, pay bills on time. You get the picture.
So that's where I'm stuck right now. I can't seem to build up any motivation to undergo any discomfort for possible long term reward. I guess part of the problem is that I felt like the promise of long term reward wasn't being kept. I don't really believe that I'll ever be thin or athletic again. Don't really believe in love or romance like I used to.
The things that used to drive me - family, church, love - just aren't there anymore. I really hate this feeling because it makes me feel weak, like less of a man in all honesty. Compounding the issue is that being lazy or eating pays off NOW. It's guaranteed. The other stuff is all maybes. I hate maybes. Do all this uncomfortable stuff, and maybe you'll feel better, in time, maybe.
So... that's where I am right now, stuck-stagnant. I guess part of me is waiting for life to throw me a freebie. Give me a little something to kick start me. (Meme, spiritual Motorcycle...ok maybe spiritual Moped) I know there are some who think this (freebies) never happens, but life is random enough that sometimes it does, deserved or not. The good(?) news is that the best part of me knows that's a pretty sucky long term plan. I've been looking for some other guidance - even if it's from within myself- but so far it's been all quiet on the willpower front.
So... there it is, the big reason why I haven't updated much. I'm not really looking for answers (though I certainly wouldn't mind any helpful suggestions) just getting it all out on paper. I have 3 unfinished posts that I started and never got up here for various reasons. If I can't finish them soon I may just fling them up here anyway.
Meme
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
A space for waiting.
Hello again,
I just wanted to stop by and say that I'm not gone. I've been overwhelmed lately with negative emotion, and I had promised myself that I wouldn't be negative here unless I knew what it meant and I was sure of it.
Bear with me please.
Back soon.
I just wanted to stop by and say that I'm not gone. I've been overwhelmed lately with negative emotion, and I had promised myself that I wouldn't be negative here unless I knew what it meant and I was sure of it.
Bear with me please.
Back soon.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Mislabeled merchandise.
"I want out of the labels. I don't want my whole life crammed into a single word. A story. I want to find something else, unknowable, some place to be that's not on the map. A real adventure. A sphinx. A mystery. A blank. Unknown. Undefined."
Chuck Palahniuk
Hey! Welcome back.
Thanks so much for waiting around while I enjoyed vacation. Yes, it was nice. I'd needed a break for a while and it was a nice respite from the concerns of every day.
OK. So, where were we last post? Oh yeah...
Next time on "Clever as Crows"! Will our hero find a spiritual label he can be comfortable in? Will he fall into the trap of the evil Plastic Shaman? Will he be overwhelmed by the dread Lord Xenocentrism? Tune in next show, same Crow time, same Crow channel.
Labels. I've never been too comfortable with them. I guess it's because I've never found any label that I felt completely comfortable under. Christian? I never felt it was the only real answer. Man? I still feel like I'll never grow up. Father? I don't feel like I fulfill all the requisites, and I don't think I'll ever feel the equal of my own father. I think you get the point.
So, to get right down to it. What am I? What do I call myself and what label do I suggest to others for me? Complicating the question is my own uncertainty about what I am and my fear of lying to myself about what I am.
I've often joked that I'm the Fox Mulder of spirituality. I want to believe. At the same time I know that I can't lie to myself anymore. If I say I believe in something I want to be able to say it without reservation, and that's become a problem.
I struggle almost daily with my split devotion to the god of Science and the Other. The first doesn't deny the second, but definitely constrains it. If Crow came to me tomorrow and told me that he'd actually given man the sun by stealing it from it's previous owner I'd laugh at him and not believe a word of it. (I think that's what I like about the idea of him best, I think he'd laugh too and say "yeah, it's bullshit, but makes a good story right?")
My friend Nettle recently wrote in her blog that she thinks of herself as a witch, identifies as a druid, but finds both labels problematic, at least when using them to describe herself to others. she says she feels comfortable using Druid because she's a part of an organization that uses that label.
I have a real problem with being a part of any group. For me, asking another person how to find your spirituality is like asking someone else how to be happy.(The number of results for that last link went up by 20,000 while I was writing this post) We're all so fundamentally different I don't think it's possible to get a good answer to a question like that. There are some people who are generally happy doing things I would call "evil". I've met people who live selfless lives and spread happiness everywhere they go and are genuinely happy doing so. I'm only happy in shades of grey, and I suspect most of the world lives there too. I think that the best any teacher (whether that be a person or a group) can do is to help you find ways to find yourself, whatever that might be. I can appreciate that kind of teacher, but I don't find it compelling enough a reason to apply their label to myself.
So, with my split loyalties and my inability to feel like I'm enough like anyone else to feel a part of a community or embrace a creed where does that leave me?
When I think of my spirituality I think of the word Shaman. Like Nettle, I find my label problematic. I'm fully aware that properly a shaman is Northern Asiatic traditional healer. I've checked my family tree; no mongol blood. So, is it OK to still call myself that? I don't have a problem with it, but I know for sure that some other groups do. First Nation activists often use the phrase "Plastic Shaman". I sympathize with them in some ways. Unfortunately there are a lot of gurus (to mis-use another label) who claim to be privy to the spiritual legacy of certain tribes without having any real connection. What if I call myself a Shaman but don't claim a connection to any anyone else's tradition? I don't know if I can argue it logically, but this feels right to me.
A while ago I read Black Elk Speaks, the story of an Oglala Sioux medicine man as told by John Neihardt, who interviewed him. It was fascinating and helpful for several reasons. First, it reinforced the idea that spiritually and religion are so intrinsically tied to culture and personal iconography that I should not feel bad if anyone else's spirituality didn't mean anything to me. His description of his visions are pretty obscure to someone who didn't grow up in his culture at that time. Secondly, his description of other medicine men is fairly enlightening. He mentions that one medicine man got his calling from Cricket. He says that that particular shaman healed by singing. He mentions in the same passage how a bear shaman healed and then relates his own methods of healing, none of which are the same. For him it's perfectly logical, Cricket and Bear are different beings, so of course they work by different means and methods.
For me reading that was a great relief. Here was an "authentic" shaman who basically believed like I do, that the universe speaks to us in the only way it can, as individuals.
Can I call myself a Shaman without falling into xenocentrism? I think I can, but it brings up some interesting questions. If I'm dancing to the beat of my own drum can I say that for me anything goes? That Shaman means anything I want it to? See, I have a problem with that. Words are worthless unless they mean something. Say I ask you to come over and bring the thingy with you. In that sentence "thingy" is absolutely worthless because it could be anything. Sometimes I think that the pagan movement as a whole runs this risk. If Pagan means "anything you want to think or do or believe" then it really doesn't mean anything at all. Or does it? I'd like to hear what you think.
So, when I say "shaman" what do I mean and what do I hope/think others hear when I say it?
What other people think when they hear "shaman" will depend greatly on their background. An anthropologist will probably think one thing, but I think for the majority of the people in my social circle it evokes the idea of someone who communes with nature - and it probably implies because of popular culture the idea of an animal spirit guide and First Nation peoples or traditions. For the most part I'm OK with that. As a brief primer to what I'm feeling it's close, but not perfect by any means. It needs some straightening but it's a starting point. What do you think when you hear it?
When I say shaman it evokes in me the image of someone connected on a spiritual level with the universe. He/she may work through some kind of "intermediary" force, a spirit guide, or not. The physical/metaphysical reality of this intermediary force is inconsequential. To me it feels like a sense of friendship with the universe. I can't command it, I can't change any rules, but I can ask. I can sometimes act as an intermediary, where appropriate, on behalf of someone else. Just like with any of my friends, there are ways to ask that are more polite, more likely to evoke a positive response, and ways to offend. Just like my other friends also each relationship is unique. There are ways I can talk to my friend Wren that could be inappropriate for anyone else. I need to be right with my friend before I can do anything at all. What works for me as a shaman probably won't work for you. Not exactly anyway.
The problem with all of this is that there's a part of me constantly asking myself "am I legitimate"? Do I feel guilty if I use ideas from someone else's cosmology, and then on the other hand feel unqualified to set up my own rules? The first part should be simple for me. If I see something that feels right to me personally I shouldn't worry about whether I'm "authentic" and if any self appointed guardian tells me otherwise I'll say "who the fuck are you to tell me how to talk to god?" I have a feeling that the person who I'll be saying that most to is my own inner critic.
Would I worry that I shouldn't put up art in my house that someone else might disapprove of? Should I worry that a piece that I like isn't "real art"? If I don't worry about that then why would I worry about something more private? It's really no different. Both are personal and exist without any more reason than "I just feel that way". Few would question that (there are always some wankers who will, but see previous paragraph for the appropriate response to them) so why should I worry?
The further I delve into my quest for spirituality the more I discover that more than anything else my own preconceptions are the real walls I have to scale. I used to think this was a bad thing, that I needed to knock down all my walls, and accept whatever came, but I don't think so anymore. I need to find a path that works with me, not against me. Something that's comfortable with me and the shades of grey I live in. It's frustrating as hell though. Wouldn't it be nice to have a religion to pop into, all ready made and as comfy as my favorite chair? Sure, but I'm strange enough that it's not going to happen, and I'm starting to think that's a good thing. If I was comfortable, I might not spend so much time talking to the universe. I wouldn't worry if we were in tune and my magic might die. If I found what I was looking for I'd stop seeking and being a seeker is probably what makes me who I am. I think Crow speaks to me because I'm seeking.
I want to believe. For my old religion that wasn't enough. I had to believe or my faith was in vain. My new faith tells me that it's OK to be unsure about everything, to question, to deny or not accept anything that doesn't feel right. (right, not comfortable mind you) I can never really know what you or the universe feel or think, but I can do my best to develop a friendly relationship with you both. Hell, maybe we could be more than friends.
So that's it. I'm Meme Ghost Crow, and I guess I'm saying to the Universe "How You doin?"
~Meme
Monday, December 8, 2008
Skeptical Faith
Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and love God and Science.
I loves me some science. I really do. Science is truth, and when it's not, it's looking for truth and willing to follow it wherever it leads. I love that when science says something I can go out and test it for myself and find out if it's true. I love that whenever science makes a declaration they have reproducible results. If I do it the same way they did, I'll get the same results. Don't get me wrong here; I'm talking about Science as the ideal, not science as practiced by human beings. I honestly think that if mankind is to survive our adolescence science will be a necessary component to our evolution.
I consider myself a skeptic. I tend not to take at face value what I'm told. If someone tells me that they've discovered free energy, perpetual motion, captured a ghost on film, or fought a Chupacabra hand to hand my first reaction is "show me". I've got Occam's Razor in my medicine cabinet and looking at things through a scientific microscope filters SO much bunk out of my life...
And yet...
Maybe some background first. I left the church of my nativity when I was 27. In my heart I had left it about a year or so before that, but that was my official recognition. It wasn't easy. I had spent 2 years in a foreign country serving that church and god at the age of 19 when most people were in college. I had spent countless hours before that in service projects, community projects, church projects. I had paid a tithe of all my income since I was 8 years old. I had given blessings to heal the sick, had blessed my own wife and children. I had spent a lot of time talking to god.
But then one day I needed help. Not wanted help, not desired help, needed it. I was fighting to stay alive. It was really that literal. For the first time in my life I came to my god to tell him that I needed his help. Sure, I had asked for help before, but I had never really needed it, not like I needed this. The more I plead the more I heard only the echoes of my own voice.
One day I went up into the desert alone. I got down on my knees and prayed out loud, asking for the help I needed. While I was there, mid prayer, I was suddenly struck with the absolute certainty that the god I was speaking to did not exist. The realization was so profound that I was litterally stricken dumb. I don't know how to describe it but it was so strong that I felt it physically. I was chokeing on it, I found it hard to breathe.
Some of you might find this situation odd. You have to remember that I was raised to believe in a God that was my literal father. In the same sense that your father is the father of your body, he was the father of my spirit. I was taught that just like a real father he cared about my daily life, and was interested and wanted the best for me. At this point in my life I was suffering so much that I finally reached a point where I could no longer believe that any father could let a child of his suffer so. (In the last few years or so I've also come to realize that I can also no longer belive in a god who would have taken away that suffering just for being asked by the right person.)
I eventually regained my breath. I was horrified. I felt betrayed to the core of me. The sudden realization that I had been talking for 20 something years to a figment of my imagination punched a hole in me. I was furious and grief stricken in turns. I would facilate between hating god and hating myself for hating something I knew was unreal. I felt like a fool. How could I have been decieved for so long? Were those who taught me to blame? How much of the fault was mine. Did I allow myself to be led to this place?
And so for a couple of years I went on like that, but hate makes a crummy Meme filling (cake is much better, FYI). As the hate ebbed away (it was hard to hate something I knew wasn't real) I began to feel more and more strongly the hollow space in me where my faith used to be. I didn't miss being a member of my old church. What I was missing was my sense of what the numinous was. Now when I saw a night sky full of stars like infinite grains of sand I still felt that same sense of awe and wonder, but I no longer knew to what I should attribute that feeling. Before I would have thought that it was my immortal god-child soul, wondering at god's current works and my future ones. But now what? I told myself that Science would be my god now. That it promised me nothing and so could not lie to me. But my feelings of discomfort persisted.
The next part gets a bit harder to tell, but I'll do my best. My problems that I had been asking god for help with went unresolved. I continued to struggle with them. In some ways it was easier knowing I was on my own. In other ways it was much harder because I had a hard time knowing why I should do anything at all.
One night I had a dream. I was walking in a barren landscape. The sky was very dark, like just before a big thunderstorm. There were trees all around, but every one of them was dead. Just a trunk with bare branches. Even the bark was worn from them by the wind. The place was empty, and for what seemed like a long time I wandered randomly through the trees, knowing that there was nothing to see, nowhere to get to, I just walked to do something. After a time I noticed a black speck in the sky. It came towards me rapidly and I eventually saw that it was a crow or a raven (I'm familiar with both species from back home, and in the dream it seemed to grow and shrink, features changing so I could not tell which). It flew down and landed in a tree not far from me, some distance above my head. I held still not wanting to scare it away. As I watched it I noticed that the crow was not entirely black. It would shimmer from time to time, waves running over it like heat waves on a highway. When the waves passed over it and along it I could see that under the black feathers this crow was dead. I could see his bones and the sinews holding them together. He was a ghost. We sat there for what felt like several minutes. I could see that he was examining me, and I him. When he opened his mouth to speak I wasn't surprized.
Crow: "Do you know where you are?"
Me: "Yes. I'm in Hell, or a hell anyway, maybe my hell."
Crow: "Close enough. Are you miserable yet?"
I responded that I was. He cocked his head sideways in the way crows do and looked at me piercingly for a few seconds. Then he jumped from the tree and started to fly back into the sky.
Me: "Wait! Don't leave me here alone! I want to get out!"
Crow-over his shoulder and growing fainter: "Then fly out. You can do it, but you'll have to die first."
His answer stunned me so that I stopped running and shouting and suddenly I understood that the reason he could come and go was that he was already dead, so this place couldn't hold him. I looked back up into the sky to find him and at that moment I woke up.
I have a lot of crazy dreams (ask H). They are often vivid and real, but this one was different. It stuck with me and would not go away.
What happened next is honestly too sacred to me to share here. Suffice to say that Crow was right, both about possibility and method of my escape in a very literal and spiritual sense. I died, but then things got better.
Some time after the immediate crisis ended I had another dream where I talked to Crow in a park. I remember that he jokingly said "Ya'ah'tee Ghost Crow." (Ya'ah'tee is a Navajo greeting) At the time I didn't question what he called me, although since then I've felt by pieces both comfortable and uncomfortable with the name. "Are you "indian" then?" I had asked him. He didn't answer but looked at me in a way that said "What do you think?" I asked him "Are you a god or spirit or are you just some part of my psyche and this is me talking to myself in a way that feels spiritually comfortable to me?" He made a sort of cawing laugh and said "Does it matter really?" I nodded my head and granted him that no, I guessed it really didn't matter, as long as he didn't ask me to do anything crazy. I don't remember his exact reply but I do remember that it was jokingly sarcastic. Something along the lines of "Damn, I'll have to find some other dead crow to burn down the orphanage then."
I remember asking him if I was really dead, and if so, how was I walking around, was I souless now? His answer was something to the effect of part of me had truely died, but it was a part of me that wanted desperately to die, and so I shouldn't mourn it overmuch. After thinking about that for a minute I said "So now what?" and he laughed and said "Round two punk!" He got more serious for a minute and I sat next to him and we talked some more. I can't recall any of that part of the conversation, but I have a feeling that they were instructions of some sort. Not remembering them doesn't bother me, I have a feeling I'll remember if I need to. I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. It was the same feeling you get when you talk to a friend you haven't seen in a while and just talking to them heals you.
So, where does this leave me? Skeptically Faithful? Is science my wife, with spirituality my mistress? Can they co-exist? I know that I don't want what I had before, Religion having a restraining order on Science. I need harmony.
I've been thinking about it for a long time now, and I'm finally starting to come to some conclusions. I think I can have both. What I need is not compartmentalism, but rather a dual perspective. I can look into the night sky and see the milky way, and marvel at the fact that I'm looking side on at the spiral galaxy in which my sun is the tiniest light, while at the same time feeling the numinous quality of it all, that sense of otherness that helps me define myself.
All of this started as an email sent to me by a friend. He is struggling with many of the same questions. He's a man of science but he knows himself well enough to know that he's something more too. Like me he's feeling a bit caught between two worlds and sometimes the self appointed gatekeepers of both sides make it hard to accept what your heart is telling you. This is too long already, but I want to address this last bit more in the next post.
Next time on "Clever as Crows"! Will our hero find a spiritual label he can be comfortable in? Will he fall into the trap of the evil Plastic Shaman? Will he be overwhelmed by the dread Lord Xenocentrism? Tune in next show, same Crow time, same Crow channel.
~Meme
I loves me some science. I really do. Science is truth, and when it's not, it's looking for truth and willing to follow it wherever it leads. I love that when science says something I can go out and test it for myself and find out if it's true. I love that whenever science makes a declaration they have reproducible results. If I do it the same way they did, I'll get the same results. Don't get me wrong here; I'm talking about Science as the ideal, not science as practiced by human beings. I honestly think that if mankind is to survive our adolescence science will be a necessary component to our evolution.
I consider myself a skeptic. I tend not to take at face value what I'm told. If someone tells me that they've discovered free energy, perpetual motion, captured a ghost on film, or fought a Chupacabra hand to hand my first reaction is "show me". I've got Occam's Razor in my medicine cabinet and looking at things through a scientific microscope filters SO much bunk out of my life...
And yet...
Maybe some background first. I left the church of my nativity when I was 27. In my heart I had left it about a year or so before that, but that was my official recognition. It wasn't easy. I had spent 2 years in a foreign country serving that church and god at the age of 19 when most people were in college. I had spent countless hours before that in service projects, community projects, church projects. I had paid a tithe of all my income since I was 8 years old. I had given blessings to heal the sick, had blessed my own wife and children. I had spent a lot of time talking to god.
But then one day I needed help. Not wanted help, not desired help, needed it. I was fighting to stay alive. It was really that literal. For the first time in my life I came to my god to tell him that I needed his help. Sure, I had asked for help before, but I had never really needed it, not like I needed this. The more I plead the more I heard only the echoes of my own voice.
One day I went up into the desert alone. I got down on my knees and prayed out loud, asking for the help I needed. While I was there, mid prayer, I was suddenly struck with the absolute certainty that the god I was speaking to did not exist. The realization was so profound that I was litterally stricken dumb. I don't know how to describe it but it was so strong that I felt it physically. I was chokeing on it, I found it hard to breathe.
Some of you might find this situation odd. You have to remember that I was raised to believe in a God that was my literal father. In the same sense that your father is the father of your body, he was the father of my spirit. I was taught that just like a real father he cared about my daily life, and was interested and wanted the best for me. At this point in my life I was suffering so much that I finally reached a point where I could no longer believe that any father could let a child of his suffer so. (In the last few years or so I've also come to realize that I can also no longer belive in a god who would have taken away that suffering just for being asked by the right person.)
I eventually regained my breath. I was horrified. I felt betrayed to the core of me. The sudden realization that I had been talking for 20 something years to a figment of my imagination punched a hole in me. I was furious and grief stricken in turns. I would facilate between hating god and hating myself for hating something I knew was unreal. I felt like a fool. How could I have been decieved for so long? Were those who taught me to blame? How much of the fault was mine. Did I allow myself to be led to this place?
And so for a couple of years I went on like that, but hate makes a crummy Meme filling (cake is much better, FYI). As the hate ebbed away (it was hard to hate something I knew wasn't real) I began to feel more and more strongly the hollow space in me where my faith used to be. I didn't miss being a member of my old church. What I was missing was my sense of what the numinous was. Now when I saw a night sky full of stars like infinite grains of sand I still felt that same sense of awe and wonder, but I no longer knew to what I should attribute that feeling. Before I would have thought that it was my immortal god-child soul, wondering at god's current works and my future ones. But now what? I told myself that Science would be my god now. That it promised me nothing and so could not lie to me. But my feelings of discomfort persisted.
The next part gets a bit harder to tell, but I'll do my best. My problems that I had been asking god for help with went unresolved. I continued to struggle with them. In some ways it was easier knowing I was on my own. In other ways it was much harder because I had a hard time knowing why I should do anything at all.
One night I had a dream. I was walking in a barren landscape. The sky was very dark, like just before a big thunderstorm. There were trees all around, but every one of them was dead. Just a trunk with bare branches. Even the bark was worn from them by the wind. The place was empty, and for what seemed like a long time I wandered randomly through the trees, knowing that there was nothing to see, nowhere to get to, I just walked to do something. After a time I noticed a black speck in the sky. It came towards me rapidly and I eventually saw that it was a crow or a raven (I'm familiar with both species from back home, and in the dream it seemed to grow and shrink, features changing so I could not tell which). It flew down and landed in a tree not far from me, some distance above my head. I held still not wanting to scare it away. As I watched it I noticed that the crow was not entirely black. It would shimmer from time to time, waves running over it like heat waves on a highway. When the waves passed over it and along it I could see that under the black feathers this crow was dead. I could see his bones and the sinews holding them together. He was a ghost. We sat there for what felt like several minutes. I could see that he was examining me, and I him. When he opened his mouth to speak I wasn't surprized.
Crow: "Do you know where you are?"
Me: "Yes. I'm in Hell, or a hell anyway, maybe my hell."
Crow: "Close enough. Are you miserable yet?"
I responded that I was. He cocked his head sideways in the way crows do and looked at me piercingly for a few seconds. Then he jumped from the tree and started to fly back into the sky.
Me: "Wait! Don't leave me here alone! I want to get out!"
Crow-over his shoulder and growing fainter: "Then fly out. You can do it, but you'll have to die first."
His answer stunned me so that I stopped running and shouting and suddenly I understood that the reason he could come and go was that he was already dead, so this place couldn't hold him. I looked back up into the sky to find him and at that moment I woke up.
I have a lot of crazy dreams (ask H). They are often vivid and real, but this one was different. It stuck with me and would not go away.
What happened next is honestly too sacred to me to share here. Suffice to say that Crow was right, both about possibility and method of my escape in a very literal and spiritual sense. I died, but then things got better.
Some time after the immediate crisis ended I had another dream where I talked to Crow in a park. I remember that he jokingly said "Ya'ah'tee Ghost Crow." (Ya'ah'tee is a Navajo greeting) At the time I didn't question what he called me, although since then I've felt by pieces both comfortable and uncomfortable with the name. "Are you "indian" then?" I had asked him. He didn't answer but looked at me in a way that said "What do you think?" I asked him "Are you a god or spirit or are you just some part of my psyche and this is me talking to myself in a way that feels spiritually comfortable to me?" He made a sort of cawing laugh and said "Does it matter really?" I nodded my head and granted him that no, I guessed it really didn't matter, as long as he didn't ask me to do anything crazy. I don't remember his exact reply but I do remember that it was jokingly sarcastic. Something along the lines of "Damn, I'll have to find some other dead crow to burn down the orphanage then."
I remember asking him if I was really dead, and if so, how was I walking around, was I souless now? His answer was something to the effect of part of me had truely died, but it was a part of me that wanted desperately to die, and so I shouldn't mourn it overmuch. After thinking about that for a minute I said "So now what?" and he laughed and said "Round two punk!" He got more serious for a minute and I sat next to him and we talked some more. I can't recall any of that part of the conversation, but I have a feeling that they were instructions of some sort. Not remembering them doesn't bother me, I have a feeling I'll remember if I need to. I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. It was the same feeling you get when you talk to a friend you haven't seen in a while and just talking to them heals you.
So, where does this leave me? Skeptically Faithful? Is science my wife, with spirituality my mistress? Can they co-exist? I know that I don't want what I had before, Religion having a restraining order on Science. I need harmony.
I've been thinking about it for a long time now, and I'm finally starting to come to some conclusions. I think I can have both. What I need is not compartmentalism, but rather a dual perspective. I can look into the night sky and see the milky way, and marvel at the fact that I'm looking side on at the spiral galaxy in which my sun is the tiniest light, while at the same time feeling the numinous quality of it all, that sense of otherness that helps me define myself.
All of this started as an email sent to me by a friend. He is struggling with many of the same questions. He's a man of science but he knows himself well enough to know that he's something more too. Like me he's feeling a bit caught between two worlds and sometimes the self appointed gatekeepers of both sides make it hard to accept what your heart is telling you. This is too long already, but I want to address this last bit more in the next post.
Next time on "Clever as Crows"! Will our hero find a spiritual label he can be comfortable in? Will he fall into the trap of the evil Plastic Shaman? Will he be overwhelmed by the dread Lord Xenocentrism? Tune in next show, same Crow time, same Crow channel.
~Meme
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Cheapness can be value-less. Forced simplicity is boring.
For a long time now I've been wanting to write a big long article about how I felt about "living green", possessions and how we interact with things in our space and time.
Imagine my great relief to find that someone else had already written down everything that was in my head, but HE spell checked it! You know, with grammar and stuff.
I wanted to take bits and pieces of it and put it here, but once I'd picked out all the good parts it ended up being nearly the entire article. (they were my thoughts after all). So instead I'll link it here. I really hope you'll take a few minutes to read it. It's quality stuff from the founder of the Viridian design movement, Bruce Sterling.
Just a few things I want to touch on though. He mentions something that over the last few years has been bothering me more and more. As Americans have many possessions, most of it junk. I don't mean junk in the literal sense, it serves some purpose, but it is not lovely, does not inspire, and basically is worth only the dollar amount that it would cost to replace it with an equivalent product.
For example: I own a digital camera. It takes good pictures, but the design is boring, looking at it doesn't make me want to take pictures. Nobody else would look at it and feel inspired. If it broke and was insured I'd only be upset at not having it until I could get it replaced. See what I mean?
I don't remember exactly when I noticed this, must have been 6 or more years ago, but it came about at the time "antiques roadshow" was at the top of it's popularity. My father had asked me why I thought this was suddenly so popular with the average man.
I remember saying "Look at your house and the house of most of the people you know. If your fully insured house burned down what would you miss?
"Some pictures.", he replied.
"Anything else?" I asked. He had to confess that there really wasn't anything else he would miss, as long as he would be paid to replace it.
And that's exactly why there's been so much renewed interest in Antiques. I think that people realize that in the end all the plastic and aluminum that they have is basically worthless outside of immediate function. People want something to be proud of, something that doesn't need upgrades to stay relevant. Something that in seeing it, holding it, showing it to others makes them feel something.
The problem with that is that making something beautiful and unique takes time and effort. One hand made rocking chair with hand carvings will cost you what 6 generic rocking chairs will cost you at Walmart. I agree with this author, don't economize! Prioritize.
His example: You can't spend too much on a bed (I disagree, you can, but only by being silly about it). You spend 1/3rd of your life there! I myself spent years sleeping on a bed that made my back hurt. Pain every night all night and most of the day after, and all because I didn't want to buy a new mattress because mine "works perfectly well! Insanity! I finally bought one and it literally made my LIFE better.
I've been thinking about this more as Christmas nears. I don't want to give out any more plastic gifts! Of course I will, because tech is fun, and sometimes that's OK. But I'm thinking more and more about gifts that can mean something. I'm the classic problem though, would love handmade awesome things, can't always afford them. I guess the answer maybe is to buy less things, but better things.
All that is great, but it doesn't really work all the time, Which brings me to the second thing he mentions that I want to talk about, what he calls "hairshirt environmentalism". From the article:
For example: I know a lot of people who like to eat locally. This is a GREAT idea. If you have wonderful, fresh and local tomatoes why on earth would you eat the mealy, pink rocks they sell at the Mega-mart? But what happens if you DON'T have local tomatoes? Should you go without tomatoes then? I know Hair-shirt Greens who would say yes. What about Pineapple? It doesn't grow very well in PA, but I sure love it. Can I buy that from a Mega-mart if I can't find it local?
Like he says, the Hair-shirt green lifestyle just isn't sustainable. You'll never convince enough people to live in a state of deprivation long enough for it to have any long term effect. I'm not saying that change is hopeless by any means. I'm just saying that I think the time for extremes is over. We must find a middle path, a compromise that will allow us to move forward, and convince others to come with us. It won't work if we go alone, or drag them kicking or marching at the end of the bleak, sharp stick of environmental disaster.
I love his article, I love his suggestions. What do you think? I have lots of diverse friends, and I'm always afraid of offending someone when I write something like this, but if you read it and feel hurt or think I'm crazy I want to hear it. The best thing about the Middle Path is it lets you listen to anyone.
~Meme
P.S. I've placed some examples of what I'm talking about below:
First, teapot #1
Teapot #2
Desk light #1
Desk light #2
Which category inspires you more? Which would you like to leave to someone special when your time is up?
Imagine my great relief to find that someone else had already written down everything that was in my head, but HE spell checked it! You know, with grammar and stuff.
I wanted to take bits and pieces of it and put it here, but once I'd picked out all the good parts it ended up being nearly the entire article. (they were my thoughts after all). So instead I'll link it here. I really hope you'll take a few minutes to read it. It's quality stuff from the founder of the Viridian design movement, Bruce Sterling.
Just a few things I want to touch on though. He mentions something that over the last few years has been bothering me more and more. As Americans have many possessions, most of it junk. I don't mean junk in the literal sense, it serves some purpose, but it is not lovely, does not inspire, and basically is worth only the dollar amount that it would cost to replace it with an equivalent product.
For example: I own a digital camera. It takes good pictures, but the design is boring, looking at it doesn't make me want to take pictures. Nobody else would look at it and feel inspired. If it broke and was insured I'd only be upset at not having it until I could get it replaced. See what I mean?
I don't remember exactly when I noticed this, must have been 6 or more years ago, but it came about at the time "antiques roadshow" was at the top of it's popularity. My father had asked me why I thought this was suddenly so popular with the average man.
I remember saying "Look at your house and the house of most of the people you know. If your fully insured house burned down what would you miss?
"Some pictures.", he replied.
"Anything else?" I asked. He had to confess that there really wasn't anything else he would miss, as long as he would be paid to replace it.
And that's exactly why there's been so much renewed interest in Antiques. I think that people realize that in the end all the plastic and aluminum that they have is basically worthless outside of immediate function. People want something to be proud of, something that doesn't need upgrades to stay relevant. Something that in seeing it, holding it, showing it to others makes them feel something.
The problem with that is that making something beautiful and unique takes time and effort. One hand made rocking chair with hand carvings will cost you what 6 generic rocking chairs will cost you at Walmart. I agree with this author, don't economize! Prioritize.
His example: You can't spend too much on a bed (I disagree, you can, but only by being silly about it). You spend 1/3rd of your life there! I myself spent years sleeping on a bed that made my back hurt. Pain every night all night and most of the day after, and all because I didn't want to buy a new mattress because mine "works perfectly well! Insanity! I finally bought one and it literally made my LIFE better.
I've been thinking about this more as Christmas nears. I don't want to give out any more plastic gifts! Of course I will, because tech is fun, and sometimes that's OK. But I'm thinking more and more about gifts that can mean something. I'm the classic problem though, would love handmade awesome things, can't always afford them. I guess the answer maybe is to buy less things, but better things.
All that is great, but it doesn't really work all the time, Which brings me to the second thing he mentions that I want to talk about, what he calls "hairshirt environmentalism". From the article:
"Another major change came through my consumption habits. It pains me to see certain people still trying to live in hairshirt-green fashion – purportedly mindful, and thrifty and modest. I used to tolerate this eccentricity, but now that panicked bankers and venture capitalists are also trying to cling like leeches to every last shred of their wealth, I can finally see it as actively pernicious.
Hairshirt-green is the simple-minded inverse of 20th-century consumerism. Like the New Age mystic echo of Judaeo-Christianity, hairshirt-green simply changes the polarity of the dominant culture, without truly challenging it in any effective way. It doesn't do or say anything conceptually novel – nor is it practical, or a working path to a better life."
For example: I know a lot of people who like to eat locally. This is a GREAT idea. If you have wonderful, fresh and local tomatoes why on earth would you eat the mealy, pink rocks they sell at the Mega-mart? But what happens if you DON'T have local tomatoes? Should you go without tomatoes then? I know Hair-shirt Greens who would say yes. What about Pineapple? It doesn't grow very well in PA, but I sure love it. Can I buy that from a Mega-mart if I can't find it local?
Like he says, the Hair-shirt green lifestyle just isn't sustainable. You'll never convince enough people to live in a state of deprivation long enough for it to have any long term effect. I'm not saying that change is hopeless by any means. I'm just saying that I think the time for extremes is over. We must find a middle path, a compromise that will allow us to move forward, and convince others to come with us. It won't work if we go alone, or drag them kicking or marching at the end of the bleak, sharp stick of environmental disaster.
I love his article, I love his suggestions. What do you think? I have lots of diverse friends, and I'm always afraid of offending someone when I write something like this, but if you read it and feel hurt or think I'm crazy I want to hear it. The best thing about the Middle Path is it lets you listen to anyone.
~Meme
P.S. I've placed some examples of what I'm talking about below:
First, teapot #1
Teapot #2
Desk light #1
Desk light #2
Which category inspires you more? Which would you like to leave to someone special when your time is up?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
6 things.
Now that that unpleasantness has past, I give you without further ado: 6 THINGS!
1) I have different rules for reading books and magazines. Books must always be read from front to back, no cheating by looking ahead. Magazines, on the other hand, must always be paged through from back to front. I have no idea when I started doing this and only consciously recognized it about a year ago. I think it has to do with the differences in content, and not wanting to waste my time on a magazine article unless it has a good ending. I actually read it backwards, paragraph by paragraph, and if it sucks I skip to the end of the next article.
2) Though I work with computers every day I really don't care for them much. When I first started out in the field I LOVED them. I was so into the specs and tweaking etc. After 12 years or so... not so much. I like what they can do, I'm interested in what I can do WITH computers, but computers themselves don't interest me much anymore. I don't care about the new graphics card, or the new front-side bus architecture. I used to, but after the 5th generation or so came out, it all started to feel like so much mental wankery. Not that I have a problem with other people being interested. People regularly assume I care or know about the latest trends in computers. I usually just smile.
3) Love/hate with pets. I love animals - I really do! But I'm not much for pets. There are a lot of reasons why. First is that I've already had the perfect pet, everything since then has seemed... second best. I had a dog that was just about perfect, obedient without being subservient and scared, strong, healthy, loved to play, was great with kids, calm like no other dog I ever met. Since we had to put him down I've had a few other dogs, but I never felt connected to them like I did with him. With him it was almost like being with one of my human buddies. Second reason is that I went to Uruguay. Lots of the domestic animals there had mange. Imagine a nation of naked dogs and cats. Not just fur-less, but bleeding, weeping skin. On top of that lots of them had ticks. Ticks as big as your thumb, swollen and gross. In giant clusters anywhere it was hard for the dog to reach. Fleas down there were so prevalent that I took to wearing a flea collar around my ankle, even to bed, and this despite the wide-spread rumor that they caused infertility. (side note: when I told my mom about that she said "why would you wear it then?" and I said, "Well Ma, it was infertility, not impotence." My dad laughed and laughed but mom blushed a storm) It took me about 3 years after i got back to be able to touch any adult dog or cat. Lastly, I'm allergic to cats. Touching them makes my eyes swell and skin burn.
4)I live with my married friends. It's a little strange, and I'm sure lots of people think it's dysfunctional or sad, but it seems to work for me at least. When I lost my job in Albuquerque right after my divorce and in the middle of huge infighting with my family my friends offered me a place to stay. Parents on both sides of my friend's marriage were pretty concerned for a while about what exactly was going on. I felt a little less than welcome sometimes during my first year here (in all fairness, lots of that was probably just me feeling self-conscious). In time they saw that I wasn't trying to break up any marriages and things have gotten pretty much back to normal now. I actually sleep next door in an apartment owned by them, which is the only thing keeping me from total loserdom, at least in that domain, but I spend the majority of my waking hours in the house with them.
5) I'm bi-polar to some degree or another. Probably type 2, which basically means that I get all of the depression of bi-polar, but very little of the mania. I'm on meds for it now and it's calmed immensely but I still get little ups and downs from time to time usually lasting only a few days. The mania usually manifests itself as a very upbeat and gregarious outlook on my part. I joke around, my mind feels faster and more witty. People seem to like Manic-Meme when I'm at social situations that aren't too formal. I feel good when I'm manic, but there's always an undercurrent of fear because I know that sooner or later it's going to stop and then WHAM I'm depressed for 3-7 days after. In between I can have long periods of no ups and downs.
6) I like being anonymous on the web. I don't get why anyone would want to be easily found on the internet. Myspace mystifies me. I think that part of it is not wanting old friends to look me up. I don't have any friends from before my 25th year, and I prefer to keep it that way. I parted well with all of them, but we've all moved on, aren't the same people anymore, and to try to rekindle would only be a disappointment. This place is different because I have a nom de guerre and It's not linked to my real name anywhere (please keep it that way, those who know). While other people take pride in being famous on the web I feel exactly opposite, I'm proud that I've been active online for 10 years now and my name still doesn't pop in Google anywhere.
Whew, made it. 6 things! Next installment! - Goatees: Real Ultimate Power? Why babies say YES!
1) I have different rules for reading books and magazines. Books must always be read from front to back, no cheating by looking ahead. Magazines, on the other hand, must always be paged through from back to front. I have no idea when I started doing this and only consciously recognized it about a year ago. I think it has to do with the differences in content, and not wanting to waste my time on a magazine article unless it has a good ending. I actually read it backwards, paragraph by paragraph, and if it sucks I skip to the end of the next article.
2) Though I work with computers every day I really don't care for them much. When I first started out in the field I LOVED them. I was so into the specs and tweaking etc. After 12 years or so... not so much. I like what they can do, I'm interested in what I can do WITH computers, but computers themselves don't interest me much anymore. I don't care about the new graphics card, or the new front-side bus architecture. I used to, but after the 5th generation or so came out, it all started to feel like so much mental wankery. Not that I have a problem with other people being interested. People regularly assume I care or know about the latest trends in computers. I usually just smile.
3) Love/hate with pets. I love animals - I really do! But I'm not much for pets. There are a lot of reasons why. First is that I've already had the perfect pet, everything since then has seemed... second best. I had a dog that was just about perfect, obedient without being subservient and scared, strong, healthy, loved to play, was great with kids, calm like no other dog I ever met. Since we had to put him down I've had a few other dogs, but I never felt connected to them like I did with him. With him it was almost like being with one of my human buddies. Second reason is that I went to Uruguay. Lots of the domestic animals there had mange. Imagine a nation of naked dogs and cats. Not just fur-less, but bleeding, weeping skin. On top of that lots of them had ticks. Ticks as big as your thumb, swollen and gross. In giant clusters anywhere it was hard for the dog to reach. Fleas down there were so prevalent that I took to wearing a flea collar around my ankle, even to bed, and this despite the wide-spread rumor that they caused infertility. (side note: when I told my mom about that she said "why would you wear it then?" and I said, "Well Ma, it was infertility, not impotence." My dad laughed and laughed but mom blushed a storm) It took me about 3 years after i got back to be able to touch any adult dog or cat. Lastly, I'm allergic to cats. Touching them makes my eyes swell and skin burn.
4)I live with my married friends. It's a little strange, and I'm sure lots of people think it's dysfunctional or sad, but it seems to work for me at least. When I lost my job in Albuquerque right after my divorce and in the middle of huge infighting with my family my friends offered me a place to stay. Parents on both sides of my friend's marriage were pretty concerned for a while about what exactly was going on. I felt a little less than welcome sometimes during my first year here (in all fairness, lots of that was probably just me feeling self-conscious). In time they saw that I wasn't trying to break up any marriages and things have gotten pretty much back to normal now. I actually sleep next door in an apartment owned by them, which is the only thing keeping me from total loserdom, at least in that domain, but I spend the majority of my waking hours in the house with them.
5) I'm bi-polar to some degree or another. Probably type 2, which basically means that I get all of the depression of bi-polar, but very little of the mania. I'm on meds for it now and it's calmed immensely but I still get little ups and downs from time to time usually lasting only a few days. The mania usually manifests itself as a very upbeat and gregarious outlook on my part. I joke around, my mind feels faster and more witty. People seem to like Manic-Meme when I'm at social situations that aren't too formal. I feel good when I'm manic, but there's always an undercurrent of fear because I know that sooner or later it's going to stop and then WHAM I'm depressed for 3-7 days after. In between I can have long periods of no ups and downs.
6) I like being anonymous on the web. I don't get why anyone would want to be easily found on the internet. Myspace mystifies me. I think that part of it is not wanting old friends to look me up. I don't have any friends from before my 25th year, and I prefer to keep it that way. I parted well with all of them, but we've all moved on, aren't the same people anymore, and to try to rekindle would only be a disappointment. This place is different because I have a nom de guerre and It's not linked to my real name anywhere (please keep it that way, those who know). While other people take pride in being famous on the web I feel exactly opposite, I'm proud that I've been active online for 10 years now and my name still doesn't pop in Google anywhere.
Whew, made it. 6 things! Next installment! - Goatees: Real Ultimate Power? Why babies say YES!
Monday, November 17, 2008
To the new Govenor Boggs
When I set out to make this blog a couple of days ago I promised myself that while I would talk about my new spirituality I would only talk about my past, specifically Mormonism, when necessary as a reference point.
That resolve lasted until today when I saw this in my news reader:
http://digg.com/world_news/Mormons_Tipped_Scale_in_Ban_on_Gay_Marriage
Go ahead, I'll wait for you, it's only 2 pages.
No? OK, here is the short version. Proposition 8 in California was meant to overturn the California Supreme court ruling earlier this year that said that same sex marriages were legal. From Wikipedia:
Proposition 8 was a California State ballot proposition that amended the state Constitution to restrict the definition of marriage to a union between a man and a woman. It overrode a recent California Supreme Court decision that had recognized same-sex marriage in California as a fundamental right. The official ballot title language for Proposition 8 is "Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry." The entirety of the text to be added to the constitution was: "Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California."
Also from Wikipedia and related to that article:
"The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) publicly supported the proposition and encouraged their membership to donate money and volunteer time. The First Presidency of the church announced its support for Proposition 8 in a letter read in every congregation. Latter-day Saints provided a significant source for financial donations in support of the proposition, both inside and outside the State of California. About 45% of out-of-state contributions to ProtectMarriage.com came from Utah, over three times more than any other state.[56]"
I can't tell you how furious this article made me. Usually my attitude towards this sort of thing is "Meh, what can you do? Ignorant people do ignorant things". That IS my attitude towards the Catholics and other groups who voted this mistake into being. The Mormons though are different.
If anyone reading this doesn't know, I was a Mormon myself for almost 28 years. I served as a missionary for them in Uruguay for a little more than 2 years. My grandparents, my parents, all my aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters are practicing Mormons. I think I can speak with some authority about the Mormon mindset.
The world at large probably doesn't understand the rank hypocrisy involved in the Mormons persecuting gays like this, but I do. In 1838 Missouri Governor Lilliburn Boggs issued the "Mormon Extermination Order" which said in part:
"...the Mormons must be treated as enemies, and must be exterminated or driven from the State if necessary for the public peace—their outrages are beyond all description."
Growing up in the Mormon church the stories of this persecution by the government are pervasive. There isn't any bitterness towards the government of the united states, but there is a clear feeling of "we were wronged, but turned the other cheek". A sort of smug superiority.
Later the Mormons were persecuted even after they had fled to the Salt Lake Valley. Abraham Lincoln himself signed into law a bill making Polygamy illegal - causing no end to trouble for the church, a small but influential portion whereof, practiced the act. Don't let your Mormon friends fool you either. It wasn't just to care for the widows of men lost along the way to Salt Lake. Brigham Young had 57 children by 16 of his wives, that doesn't happen just by taking care of someone people. There was a whole lot of boinking involved.
But wait you say, You mean to tell me that the Mormons were persecuted for "abnormal" social/sexual behavior (polygamy) and for "the common good" of the nation and yet see no problem in doing the EXAXCT SAME DAMN THING to gays or any other group who doesn't fit their idea of normal?
Yup. Exactly.
The article says that they were very careful not to let this be about them being "anti-gay" but but rather "pro family". That kind of sophistry doesn't fool Crows or Mormons. From the article above:
"To counter that, advertisements for the “Yes” campaign also used hypothetical consequences of same-sex marriage, painting the specter of churches’ losing tax exempt status or people “sued for personal beliefs” or objections to same-sex marriage, claims that were made with little explanation."
They were made with little explanation because they were weak straw men and the Mormons knew it. They know very well, just as you or I do that two gay men or women marrying won't suddenly destroy their families. They know that Gay men and women won't suddenly say "oh, I can't get married to another man/woman? I guess I'll just start a traditional family instead, silly me!"
So why DID they do it? Make no mistake. This is about them keeping someone else from being happy because they can and because they think they know what is best for every man, woman and child on the face of the earth and they will go to any length they think they can get away with to FORCE you to live the way they want you to. Mormons are scary because they believe they have a direct line to a Sky God who tells them exactly what is right and wrong, not just for them but for everyone. Other Christians believe this, but the Mormons believe it mind, heart and soul and they act on it. As shown in this case, they put their money where their mouth is.
So congratulations Mormons! You've elected yourselves the new Govenor Lilliburn Boggs! May your actions live on in the same kind of infamy his did.
And congratulations also, I didn't think it was possible for me to feel more ashamed of who I used to be but damned if you didn't find a way.
Tune in next time folks for some happier days. The 6 things meme is next, I promise.
~Meme
That resolve lasted until today when I saw this in my news reader:
http://digg.com/world_news/Mormons_Tipped_Scale_in_Ban_on_Gay_Marriage
Go ahead, I'll wait for you, it's only 2 pages.
No? OK, here is the short version. Proposition 8 in California was meant to overturn the California Supreme court ruling earlier this year that said that same sex marriages were legal. From Wikipedia:
Proposition 8 was a California State ballot proposition that amended the state Constitution to restrict the definition of marriage to a union between a man and a woman. It overrode a recent California Supreme Court decision that had recognized same-sex marriage in California as a fundamental right. The official ballot title language for Proposition 8 is "Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry." The entirety of the text to be added to the constitution was: "Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California."
Also from Wikipedia and related to that article:
"The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) publicly supported the proposition and encouraged their membership to donate money and volunteer time. The First Presidency of the church announced its support for Proposition 8 in a letter read in every congregation. Latter-day Saints provided a significant source for financial donations in support of the proposition, both inside and outside the State of California. About 45% of out-of-state contributions to ProtectMarriage.com came from Utah, over three times more than any other state.[56]"
I can't tell you how furious this article made me. Usually my attitude towards this sort of thing is "Meh, what can you do? Ignorant people do ignorant things". That IS my attitude towards the Catholics and other groups who voted this mistake into being. The Mormons though are different.
If anyone reading this doesn't know, I was a Mormon myself for almost 28 years. I served as a missionary for them in Uruguay for a little more than 2 years. My grandparents, my parents, all my aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters are practicing Mormons. I think I can speak with some authority about the Mormon mindset.
The world at large probably doesn't understand the rank hypocrisy involved in the Mormons persecuting gays like this, but I do. In 1838 Missouri Governor Lilliburn Boggs issued the "Mormon Extermination Order" which said in part:
"...the Mormons must be treated as enemies, and must be exterminated or driven from the State if necessary for the public peace—their outrages are beyond all description."
Growing up in the Mormon church the stories of this persecution by the government are pervasive. There isn't any bitterness towards the government of the united states, but there is a clear feeling of "we were wronged, but turned the other cheek". A sort of smug superiority.
Later the Mormons were persecuted even after they had fled to the Salt Lake Valley. Abraham Lincoln himself signed into law a bill making Polygamy illegal - causing no end to trouble for the church, a small but influential portion whereof, practiced the act. Don't let your Mormon friends fool you either. It wasn't just to care for the widows of men lost along the way to Salt Lake. Brigham Young had 57 children by 16 of his wives, that doesn't happen just by taking care of someone people. There was a whole lot of boinking involved.
But wait you say, You mean to tell me that the Mormons were persecuted for "abnormal" social/sexual behavior (polygamy) and for "the common good" of the nation and yet see no problem in doing the EXAXCT SAME DAMN THING to gays or any other group who doesn't fit their idea of normal?
Yup. Exactly.
The article says that they were very careful not to let this be about them being "anti-gay" but but rather "pro family". That kind of sophistry doesn't fool Crows or Mormons. From the article above:
"To counter that, advertisements for the “Yes” campaign also used hypothetical consequences of same-sex marriage, painting the specter of churches’ losing tax exempt status or people “sued for personal beliefs” or objections to same-sex marriage, claims that were made with little explanation."
They were made with little explanation because they were weak straw men and the Mormons knew it. They know very well, just as you or I do that two gay men or women marrying won't suddenly destroy their families. They know that Gay men and women won't suddenly say "oh, I can't get married to another man/woman? I guess I'll just start a traditional family instead, silly me!"
So why DID they do it? Make no mistake. This is about them keeping someone else from being happy because they can and because they think they know what is best for every man, woman and child on the face of the earth and they will go to any length they think they can get away with to FORCE you to live the way they want you to. Mormons are scary because they believe they have a direct line to a Sky God who tells them exactly what is right and wrong, not just for them but for everyone. Other Christians believe this, but the Mormons believe it mind, heart and soul and they act on it. As shown in this case, they put their money where their mouth is.
So congratulations Mormons! You've elected yourselves the new Govenor Lilliburn Boggs! May your actions live on in the same kind of infamy his did.
And congratulations also, I didn't think it was possible for me to feel more ashamed of who I used to be but damned if you didn't find a way.
Tune in next time folks for some happier days. The 6 things meme is next, I promise.
~Meme
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