I M Perfect lady

Category: Religion

  • Your Inner Spark

    Last Sunday, while walking with my granddaughter, we met a father with two little girls walking towards us – heading towards the ice cream store at the beach.  One of the girls seen the big cone and asked her dad if they were going for ice cream – to which he quickly replied, "No, remember today we are working on our spirituality."

    The little girls wanting ice cream looked young – near the 5 year old range.

     

    When we got in the car, I asked my 10 year old granddaughter what she thought Spirituality was – she didn't know. 

    I wondered how you taught a young child about spirituality and worked on it.

     

    I told my granddaughter, that often spirituality was about the spirit and did she know what that was or where it was located. She did not.

     

    I told her I felt it wasn't in our mind or bodies – or even heart – but close to it.

    The place inside of us that is our essence that feels love and joy – and is uniquely us.

    Like how each of us have something inside of us that finds joy in different things. 

     

    And she said, "Well I love ice cream and having it would bring me joy." 

     

    As we talked, we talked about different things that make our insides happy – and how it didn't seem that 'working' on our spirituality – would be work.

    And, that skipping what we love or things that brought us joy – seemed the opposite of spiritual work.

     

    I told her I felt little children come into the world with wide open spirits and they naturally gravitate to what their spirits love. And, that it would be more work to steer clear of them.  

     

    I am not suggesting that each time a child wants ice cream they should have it.  But, I was taken aback – that a child would have to work on their spirituality.

     

    I had to look up the definitions of spirituality….

    This seemed to resonate.

    "The word spirituality comes from the Latin “spiritus” which literally means “breath”, signifying Life. The most important thing we have is this gift of Life. It then follows that if we have this amazing gift of Life, then we all have a way that it is being manifested in and through us."

    If spirituality is about breath – signifying life.  Wouldn't spiritual work then be about life, living, and being present with our breath.

    In fact in our conversation, I said that often folks who were spiritual were trying to be present, in this moment of time – I guess with your breath.  And that if you can be with your ice cream, that would be spiritual work.

     

    What I know to be true for me in the past two decades is that I am drawn to things that fill me with love, peace and joy.  That my spiritual work is to be where my feet are – or my breath. 

    To be and breathe in nature and truly be with whomever I am with.

     

    Perhaps when all my old pillars crumbled, what I was left with was my spirit, the self that sat near my heart.   My spirit felt like a young child – innocent and curious and waiting to be seen and heard.

    My spiritual work from that point on was to live as truthfully and as authentic as I could – being honest with my feelings of love and joy – and being brave to step away from things that didn't align with my morals and values.

     

    My spiritual work was learning who I was and then to live from the inside out.

    I recall when my husband and I didn't know who I would be – when my past was so completely changed, that I no longer felt connected to my life – I told him, we could start simple and go and see if she still likes ice cream.

     

    What a beautiful world it would be – if spirituality was to connect to the little child within each of us – that sees delight in the simple things.  Where we go within to find what is true and loving for the child.

    I feel a child comes into the world – with their spirits lit up – and that they don't know how not to follow what brings them joy.  We as adults, we might try and dim that light, but showing them our world, instead of us learning through their eyes.

     

    My life and my views of the world are so different when I see and live through the child's eyes within me.

     

    I have a curious delightful grandson who is only 7 months. He lights up – when he sees me, and his smile is bright.  His spirit is uncovered and pure joy. 

     

    I have two grandchildren who I felt had very strong spirits and wills.  Their parents did a tremendous job in preserving their spirits – while balancing the proper training they required to be human – if that makes sense. 

     

    It is takes a parent who can see the little spirit and what it requires.  They knew when their emotions were bigger than their little bodies and helped them navigate the big world.

     

    Spiritual work – is to honor the spirit within. 

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     "In yoga, "Namaste" is often said at the end of a class as a gesture of respect and acknowledgment of the divine spark within each person. 

     

    The breath of life is to feel your inner spark.

  • Out Loud

    I have been thinking about breaking the silence ever since a group called "Voices Unmuted" was formed. A group whose Mission is to protect innocent children from sexual abuse within the Old Apostolic Lutheran Church (OALC).

     

    There is a podcast which talks about this subject – it was a few years ago, but completely applicable today.

     

    The juxtaposition between a religion and those not protecting the children is hard to wrap your head around.

    Like could there actually be grown up people within a religious organization – mute about children being in danger of sexual abuse.

    Not only grownups, but parents – and parents with large families and extended families. Adults who bear responsibility of looking out for children – and they are complacent and quiet about crimes against children.

     

    A question was asked "If you can’t believe there are many predators, ask yourself why you need so badly to believe there aren’t."

     

    This question is quite profound for the followers of these religions – who need the religion to not be tainted by abuse – especially sexual crimes against children – for then what do they believe in – or more how do they get to heaven one day.

     

    It is way more about them NOT wanting it to be true – rather than being curious about what if it is?

     

    What would happen to their lives IF they did believe there were many predators?

    What would it cost them?

     

    When there is abuse in another church, say the Catholic Church – they believe it.

    If there is abuse in a school or with a family outside of the church, they believe it.

     

    However when the unmuted voices speak about their church, their families in their world – it is different.

     

     

    If you were raised in the church and groomed to be silent – you and your past will no longer be the same.

     

    While there is a group unmuted – there is a much larger group of unbelievers – for their very being depends upon it.

     

    It has been over 20 years for me.  I know from experience the cost of believing the unbelievable.  To see your parents in a new light – and your religion. 

     

    These are big pillars in who you are.

    When they turn tarnished – there isn't much left of you.

     

    I know to the depth of my being – they know subconsciously that if the church falls – and the family's legacy is abuse – it will be the end of who they are.

     

    What they don't know, is that it is the beginning of finding your soul – the person you were born to be.  

     

    You lose all that isn't true.

    I didn't lose love – I lost dysfunction.

    I didn't lose a religion – I lost a cult that protects abusers.

    I didn't lose me – I lost the person I was to survive.

     

    When you don't want to believe something is true – usually it's because you need it to be the opposite – even when there are facts and truths in plain view.

     

    What is the saying "she protests too much".  

    "The quote "She protests too much" is a shortened version of the line "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," from Shakespeare's play Hamlet. It means that someone's excessive denials or over-the-top reactions to an accusation actually reveal their guilt or the opposite of what they claim to be true."

     

    It reveals their guilt or the opposite of who they claim to be.

     

    Imagine finding out the opposite of who you claim to be.

    Or what the church claims to be etc.

    I know this feeling.

    I was there.

     

    No matter how much I didn't want it to be true – my body couldn't lie.

     

    It does not matter how many voices are unmuted – each person will be the one to either believe it or protest too much.

     

    I believe they can feel the truth.

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    How ironic – or not – I have been working on this quilt – and it was before listening to the podcast or reading that question.   I love how my art speaks ahead of me. Feel the truth. Notice "the Answer" and "Out Loud" - 

     

     

     

  • Find the truth.

    "I write because it makes me feel like someone is listening – Or am I listening to myself."

     

    I love this quote and I don't know who said it.

     

    What I do know is that I began writing in earnest when I was the most lost.

     

    I was in a body, in a life – in relationships, I was a mother and a wife – and I didn't know who I was.

     

    This was quite scary and exhilarating at the same time.

     

    When I was writing, I was engaging with what I called my mental lady – my mind – and trying to find a Me that was not tainted with my childhood religion or the affects of abuse – or even just programming that comes with living in this world.

     

    Could I find myself, when I didn't know who I was or where I had gone missing?

     

    I am amazed I was any semblance of an adult –

    I had to look up "semblance" to see if that was the correct word to use.

    "the outward appearance or apparent form of something, especially when the reality is different. "she tried to force her thoughts back into some semblance of order"

     

    It is the perfect word. Especially when I was living different from the reality of my truths.

     

    I am not certain I can accurately describe the vast chasm of unknown – and me and the mental lady – trying to make sense of the senseless.

     

    This mental lady was who I had been for 46 years and the writer was who I was becoming  began dialoguing and arguing over who was the real me.        I felt like a fledging little bird compared to the wily mental lady.

    It seemed not a fair fight, for the new me was so small , unsure and bewildered – the mental lady had strength of not her own conviction – and was backed by family and church.

     

    Our playground or battlefield was on the blank sheet of paper.  

    Without pencil and paper, I fear the mental lady would have won.

     

    The strength of her brainwashing, the fear laced shame of abuse – was a powerful duo to contend with.

     

    Especially when inside of me was a newly seen abused little girl.

     

    A part of me was writing to empower that little girl and for her to become free.

     

    Often when a choices was tough to make, I would visualize how it would be to the wounded girl inside of me.  Then, the choice was easy.

     

    Many more hard choices were made – and the little girl inside of me grew strong as I listened to what she wanted/needed and gave her love, peace and joy.

     

    I look back fondly at those early years of being a fledging – doing battle with a brainwashed mind – and feel pride.

     

    Try talking sense to a person who's been under the spell of brainwashing – or better yet try changing them or debunking their beliefs – THAT is what she was up against.

     

    Writing helped free me from my brainwashed mind.

     

    It perhaps was one of the most powerful tools I used to get me to walk hand and hand with reality.

     

    I am no longer fledging – but very secure in who I am.

     

    I still use writing – which is now on this blog – anytime my mind can't leave an idea alone. When my mind is restless and it keeps pulling me from the reality of now – I am drawn to the blank page.

     

    What I recall too is how the wily mental lady was always so righteously right. And, I was often afraid to begin writing for I didn't know what I would have to do.  What choice I would be forced to make.

     

    Yet the writing always gave me a choice that was true for me.

     

    When it was true for me – I always felt at peace with the choice – even when that choice brought serious consequences.

     

    What the fledging bird within me wanted most of all, was to be true to my feelings and emotions.  I wanted to be in sync with my body, mind and spirt. 

     

    Writing was the vehicle – and my mental lady and I were on a journey to see which one of us would survive the ruthlessness of the pencil.

     

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    Me, Myself and I – on a journey to find the truth.

     

     

     

  • God’s Free Will

    Women's rights are a tricky subject – because what is actually being talked about IS not her by herself.  She is unable to find herself pregnant without a man. She can't make a baby on her own – the man carries a crucial piece AND this is not talked about.

     

    His rights are never in question or limited.

     

    A woman is left with the evidence that a man planted a child.

     

    And she alone is judged and crucified for what she decides to do.

     

    There is also a limited version of abortion – that is willfully used primarily as birth control – and that it isn't a heartbreaking decision that is for health reasons of a child or the mother.

     

    Mostly there needs to be a wider version of the discussion and a more open view on what is going on.

     

    Women are only one part of the equation – yet carry full blame.

    Limiting women – on the other side of baby making – seems like shutting the door after the horses left the barn. Why not stop the baby making process at the gate.  Limit men from having kids until they can prove the kids are wanted and can be supported.

    Limit the surgery decisions to the doctor and the carrier of the baby.

    Leave the church and state out of it.

     

    It seems unfair to reduce the limits of women and not look upon the man – at all.

    What would be a fair discussion to have about a pregnancy – and its continuation – or even conception?

     

    There are two people involved and only one is being addressed.

    What is the saying – instead of pulling people out of the river – it is better to go up river and see how they are getting there.

     

    What doesn't seem to be the right answer is to take away the woman's right to her own body - 

     

    Also, what else has been bugging me, is that so many of the ultra religious women are voting to take away rights – when they themselves have little ownership of their own bodies.

     

    They are not able to limit the amount of children they have.

    They are not free with their own bodies and yet they feel they can limit others.

     

    It seems that only those who are free to choose, should be voting.

     

    What I have learned – in my experience – the freer I became, the wider my sense of accepting and allowing others to live their lives freely.

    I  would not want others telling me what is right or wrong in my life – and I am not sure what is right or wrong in your life. 

     

    What is right for me – doesn't necessarily mean it is right for you.

    If God gave us free will – why are some feeling like it is theirs to control?

     

    I am pretty sure it is a sign of dysfunction to control others. 

    A society that has equal rights and freedoms is a healthy society – and/or religion or relationship of any kind.

     

    There are three kinds of rights. "These are Natural rights, Moral rights & Legal rights. Legal rights can be defining in three categories. These are, Fundamental rights, Political rights & Social or civil rights.

     

    What seems to be happening is the 'moral' rights of some are creating negative legal rights, that infringe upon the natural rights of women.

     

    Those who can justify this – better know – that you too are at risk of having your natural rights taken away – with the right people in power.  

     

    In the land of the free – it is not a positive to reduce someone's freedom.

     

    Morals are what you believe to be right or wrong –

    And these are personal and I don't feel should be imposed upon others.

     

    Values – a person's principles or standards of behavior; one's judgment of what is important in life. "they internalize their parents' rules and values"
     
    Free Will – Free will is the ability to make choices independently and without outside influence. It's linked to concepts like moral responsibility, praise, and culpability, which only apply to actions that are freely chosen. 

     
     
    I guess in the land of the free – I would like to honor God's free will.
     
    And He gave us free will—the ability to think, reason and make our own choice.
     
    It would seem those who are supportive of religion and God, would want at the very least to give each of us God's Free Will.
     
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  • I Hold You in My Heart

    I watched Michele Obama being interviewed about her latest book "The Light We Carry" with Oprah and they talked about Michele's friends.  The ones she calls her Kitchen Table.

     

    The Kitchen Table has a relaxed image – one where we don't have to put on aires. We can be ourselves in this group.  In fact, we feel at home with them and our truth is honored.

     

    These friends are found along our journey of life.  We carry them with us, as we grow, evolve and face some of life's darkest moments and celebrate with us our achievements and joys.

     

    As I sit here today, I am reminded of the girls who have been with me.

    Watched me grow and change and lead a life that some can't understand.

     

    Not all my friends have continued on with me. Some found my table to hard to sit at – my truths too upsetting to their beliefs.  My voice spoke of things they need kept silent. 

     

    There have been times in my life my table was crowded – and other times many empty chairs. 

     

    I have a friend from my middle school days – we had years of silence and now we are reconnected.  We both had life experiences that changed us – and yet we still fit together. I treasure our friendship and how she holds so much of my history and embraces my new self.  A friendship that can hold changes feels good to me.

     

    When my kids were little, another mom with young kids and I connected. She wasn't from the church I was in at the time. We felt at home with each other – we clicked.   When she moved away, we lost touch for awhile – and now when life throws us a curve ball – the other catches it. She gets me and has loved me unconditionally and I her.

     

    I found a friend at one of my jobs who was the best thing that came from working there.  A sister friend is how she feels.  We can share our lives with each other and there is no shame or critical eye. Just an open space to sort out life.  We too had moments in life where our lives were busy and perhaps we didn't need the counseling space – and then other times we talked daily.

     

    I have found friends during their time of need and I felt my history of loss would be helpful – and over time we have bonded deeply.  Sisters who have shared darkness and found hope. Sisters who travel down pathways each never saw coming. We have deep heart connections.  And, we walked each other towards the light – found hope in the hopeless and joy we didn't think possible. We have witnessed each others growth and success of thriving after heartache.

     

    I love that some of my Kitchen Table friends have encouraged me to be an adventure girl- I have wonderful women who enjoy the outside. These ladies have grown me. I am different with a garage full of gear that I use in different seasons.  Some are badass and make me feel kinda badass myself. Being outside and challenging myself has helped my self-esteem.

     

    I have artist friends who are great cheerleaders and sounding blocks. Some have been with me from my very early years.  Sharing your art is sharing your soul.  These are brave vulnerable souls.  

     

    I look back at some of the friends I had from the church – wistfully.  We shared the common belief system – and were comrades of sorts – with similar foes.  I have lost some that still hurt my heart – our common ground slipped away.

     

    At one time, I thought wrongly – that I didn't need new friends – that I was too old to start making new ones.  

     

    What a mistake that would have been.  I continue to meet women who I click with and we are in the early stages of friendship.  We can't know where we go, what we do and how long we share our lives together.

    The best part about my kitchen table – we can laugh, cry and be silly. We can share our hopes, our dreams and our deepest fears. We can work out life's difficult questions and debate our differences.  

    The differences in my friends help me to see life from so many aspects. Views I couldn't have reached on my own.

     

    Being away from my family of origin left me with quite a hole.  These friendship over the past few decades have filled so much emptiness. They opened their arms and hearts to me.

     

    One of my oldest friends recently told me that families are not as advertised.

    I sat with that awhile and found she was on to something.

     

    Friendships and who sits at the Kitchen Table with us is so much different. We decide who is worthy of our time and truths – who come in carrying the fullness of who they are.

    My Kitchen Table is much more welcoming as I age – or maybe because I am religionless – but I love the beauty of uniqueness – I love strength of character; I love characters!  

    My Kitchen Table has empty chairs and is ever expanding in size – I look forward to the new ones I have yet to meet.

    And my kitchen door works both ways. I do understand how some had to leave and more could do so in the future. I part in peace.  I know we lasted our season and reason. Not all are meant to be life long friends.

     

    I love my Kitchen Table friends for being who they are, and for making me a better Me. My heart is full when I think of you all.

    I hold you in my heart.

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    Dance Party!

  • What you don’t know.

    Yesterday a woman who had great influence in my life turned 90.  I did not celebrate.

    This woman began programming me as a young child.

    Both in religious ways and codependent dysfunctional ways.

    She created the daughter she needed and I dutifully followed her lead.

     

    As a child I looked up to her and I believed she was a woman of substance and had high morals and good values. I believed she stood against things that were wrong.

     

    I grew up to imitate her.

     

    Looking back on it now – I was her – in that my life was dictated by a strict religion and my body was owned by the church. My mind was controlled by its programming and my spirit or soul lived silently in the shadows.

     

    Nineteen years ago I woke up to a reality that was nothing like our minds believed.

    She wasn't of woman of substance of high morals and values and neither was I.

     

    Reality was her husband was a pedophile and had abused me and many others. She knew and forgave him of his sins.

    My reality held a father who abused me.

    My reality was my mother lacked morals and values – she didn't stand up for the child.

     

    Somehow reality leaked into my mind – while hers remained untouched.

     

    This break in my mind caused us to be on opposite sides. I never found a spot where we could stand and see somewhat eye to eye.  Her mental mind and my open one had nothing in common.

     

    Her remaining in the program or mental mind a few steps removed from reality – allowed me to see who I had been  - how it is to be in denial.

    I had someone to look at to see how mental my mind was.

    Once I knew my mind couldn't be trusted, I began challenging it on every level.

    And reality became my new religion. I trusted what was.

     

    There was a space between my mental mind and me.

    That space grew each time I challenged the mind and found it lacking truth and matching reality.

     

    Unless you have been brainwashed and then regained your faculties, you will not understand.

     

    The contrasts between living a life as a member of strict religious cult and being free- is quite vast. There are no common denominators. No space where we could share overlapping realities.

     

    She had a husband.

    I had a pedophile.

     

    She had a religion with morals and values.

    I had a religion who blessed pedophiles of their sins.

     

    She lived as a programmed mind.

    I was working to free myself from mine.

     

    I began making new choices and trying to rectify the past. More, doing today what I wasn't able to do as a child. Standing up and against abuse.

    Regardless who I had to stand up against. 

    And making choices with different consequences.

    Losing much of what I had – in order to give my children a chance at a different legacy.

     

    Nineteen years ago was our last conversation in person. The last time I was in a face to face conversation. 

     

    I didn't see a woman there that inspired me.

    There was no heart connection.

    No warm feelings.

     

    Even worse than empty.

    She was a mental mind with a body.

     

    Blind to reality.

    Blind to me.

     

    She can only see me when I am compliant with the program.

    I know the strength of her mind and I fear its ruthlessness.

     

    So what do I do on her birthday. 

    A day others celebrate.

    Mostly it reminds me of her – and all I lost.

    These old family milestones – bring into my reality – the longings for family.

     

    Being estranged complicates grief and even the normal family joys.

    I am part of – yet apart from.

     

    I have a history that is mostly lies.

    My fondest memories are tarnished.

    I long for the family my mental mind created.

    Yet knowing it doesn't exist.

     

    She's 90 now.

    I didn't celebrate or acknowledge this day to her.

    I wasn't even going to here on the blog.

    Yet these thoughts and feelings bother me, until I write them out.

     

    I am thinking this 90 milestone and the almost 20 years of estrangement has diminished my volume of hope.  

    In my early years of being estranged and setting boundaries – a part of me believed that there was hope, that if I could leave the programmed mind, so too could others. 

     

    The hope is barely a flicker now – just a spark that ignites for a bit.

     

    While many take for granted the family that stands behind them – the familiar shared experiences and memories that create family.  I am very much aware of its absence.

     

    This.

     

    This is why so many others don't walk way from abusive families. The loneliness and heartache you feel – even if the families you love were all in your mind. They were family.

     

    It does feel like a phantom arm – a part of me – that isn't there.

     

    My healing and focus began with being authentic and truthful with myself and reality. I began from where I woke up.  Intensely looking at my life, my choices, what my voice was used for, who I stood with and why, or who I stood against and why, what were my morals and values, where they truthful, what is love, what is not love, what brings me joy, what do I feel, what do I not feel – an endless searching for answers.  Answers that became the new me.

    The task seemed endless and overwhelming.

    To take a mental mind and use it to challenge itself and make choices outside of the program.

     

    And in doing so, you go against family.

     

    She is 90 and I am 64 – her child.

    The child who has nothing to do with her.

     

    Not even on her 90th birthday.

     

    Some will see me as the bad person here.

    Some will celebrate her.

     

    I stood by the truth of our estrangement and honored it by doing nothing.

    Again.

     

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    This is our relationship now – Estranged – no connection between mother and child.

     

    The feelings of being lovingly cared for by a parent feels alien.  

    A feeling I have never felt.

     

    You cannot celebrate what you don't know.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Stir my Soul More

    After Zion, we headed north to the Great Salt Lake. It was nothing like I expected.

    The day we were there, many small birds (maybe ducks) were dead on the beach.

    The smell alone made it a less than desirable lake. 

    There was an open pit mine near by – we were a week early – for the three hour tour. 

    Again, IF you plan – these things you would know. Next time. I will have to do some research before we leave home.

    Also by the beach we were at was a Music Venue.

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    These mountains were in our windshield for miles.

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    It got a bit crazy around Salt Lake City.  We drove through and went to the Salt Lake First

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    It was a bit hazy – but we got the idea of the lake.

     
     
    At an average water level of 4,200 feet, the lake is approximately 75 miles long and 30 miles wide, with 335 miles of shoreline.
     
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    Rugged Beaches here – there is an Island called Antelope Island, where they have better beaches. We choose not to go drive up there. 
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    This is another section, you can get to the water easily; but the smell of rotting birds made it less desirable.  We take for granted the pristine beauty and clarity of Lake Superior. I can't imagine swimming here – but the gentleman who took our Park Fee – said he does. And, that you can tell where you have a little cut, the salt gets into the wound.
     
     
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    This was the music venue.  There was a gentleman there watching the gate – expecting crowds of young folk.
     
    We then drove to the mine – to discover we were a week early – so we decided to explore the Mormon Church. We didn't find the mega church; but found the city block where an older church was and their business offices and conference buildings.  They take up at least a whole city block.
     
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    It was weird to have the church surrounded by a fence – not real welcoming.
    Yet inside there were young folk willing and ready to talk about their religion.
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    I was intrigued enough to enter and see what was behind the fence.  The flowers were the most welcome sight. They smelled so delicious.  
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    They are a little beaten down – they were recovering from the latest snowfall.
     
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    Nature is my religion – and the church felt like a dismal place after the garden – let alone all the wonderful landscapes in the national parks.  
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    This is the church on Temple Street.  There were young girls – so innocent looking – doing their duty of sharing the message. 
     
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    One of their church's business offices/conference center. The religion is a big business - 
     
     "Citing some former employees of the fund, the WSJ report at the time said that the Mormon Church's investment fund, Ensign Peak Advisors, had assets worth about $80 billion to $100 billion as of 2019, which easily surpass some of the biggest funds in the world such as Harvard University's endowment…"
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    This was in a dome shaped building next to the church. More young girls ready and willing to talk.  A man was playing an organ.  The stage and lights seemed out of place.  
    I am glad I saw it.     It was Easter weekend, so perhaps they were getting ready for a show/service.
     
    I know I am so jaded when it comes to religion. But the contrast between nature and religion and what parts of it stirred my soul.  I felt breathless and inspired by nature – and the Mormon church and city block of buildings that supported it – left me feeling its pretense.
     
    They say that less than 50% of the folks who live in and around Salt Lake are Mormons and the numbers are decreasing. 
     
    Knowing how a child can be made to follow any cult they are born into – and its costs.  I was relieved to have the city in our rearview.
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    It was refreshing to see city spaces – of art.
     
    For some reason these expressions stir my soul more.
     
     

  • Feeling Unworthy

    Sending love to the deconstructed
    church kids that have a weird
    relationship with Christmas.
    The melancholy or isolated
    the ones doing their best to salvage
    the good stuff. The ones reimagining
    it for the kids, or tossing it altogether.
    You're seen and you're doing great.

    This was posted by a friend on Facebook.

     

    It sorta captures my feelings about Christmas.

     

    There is a melancholy for sure.

     

    Music and songs from the long ago religion being sung.

    Distance and lost faith.

    While I feel free - there are now disturbing memories attached to the songs.

     

    It isn't that I am seeking any religion to fill this gap.

    But, during these holidays it leaves you feeling bereft.

     

    Reminders of religion are everywhere and you are sorta made to feel less than, when you don't have a good relationship with faith. Like a true sinner.

     

    When folks urge you to "keep Christ" in Christmas - I feel their overbearance.

    Christmas lost its innocence – when I lost my faith in religion.

    It now carries certain tones and expectations – unmet.

     

    I wish there were christmas songs for the deconstructed church kids. For those of us who live outside of faith.

     

    I thought of faith and hope and love this christmas.

    And, I find those can be non-religious, and more – sentiments of love.

     

    It would be good if you could salvage the good from the bad and make a mismatched christmas – that was more about love and less about christ.

     

    I do have a problem with a god who has a special child.

    Just as I would have trouble with a parent who had one.

     

    My heart weeps for me as a child – in a religion that made her feel less than.

    The unworthy child.  

     

    O Holy Night!
    The stars are brightly shining
    It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
    Long lay the world in sin and error pining
    Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
    A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices
    For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

    My new belief is that each child is born worthy – complete and sin free.

    It is only our minds that create them less.

     

    Like I said, a complicated relationship now with songs of christmas.

    If we were all taught we were perfect just as we are, then we wouldn't need a religion to 'save' us.

    It seems that it creates the lack and then sells the fulfillment.

     

    My reimagined Christmas is love.

    Where each person is perfect. 

    We don't need to add or take away anything.

    Our worth isn't dependent upon someone else.

     

    I love my kids just as they are. They don't have to do a thing to become more worthy – and the same for my little grandchildren. I would hate for them to even think for a moment they were not whole and complete just as they are.

     

    I am grateful for love and the love I have for my family and friends – and total acceptance of who they are. There is nothing I could add to make them whole. 

     

    At the end of the day I am relieved that it is over – tucked away for another year.

    The ghosts of feeling unworthy.

     

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  • Who Feel Like Home

    I was challenged today about not trusting christians.  I promised to write it out.

     

    This is my third draft and I think I figured a few things out.

     

    First I will be using my abusive childhood to help illustrate for it shows the dramatic changes of heart.

     

    My last conversation with my mother was her telling me, that we had two different perceptions of my father.

     

    I recall hollering back to her, there is only one – he’s in an orange jumpsuit in the Houghton County Jail.  Meaning he no longer is a father – he changed my perception to an abuser.

     

     

    Is it really possible to see the same thing so drastically different?

     

    At first I thought those who are defending religion were like my mother – defending – her views against mine.  

     

    But, then I realized they were more like me, or like I used to be.  

     

    I was sold on family and religion. I believed in both – and looking back – I don’t know how I didn’t know.

     

    I also thought that I was the loving one – that I brought love to my family.  But that isn’t true. I didn’t know love.  I only knew what love wasn’t.

     

    Did my family and religion change?

    Or did I.

     

    What I believe to be more true is that I discovered love. I learned to love me.  I learned about boundaries and what my own truths were – I questioned my own values and perceptions – I watched my own actions how much I lived my own truths and spoke them out loud.

     

    I believe that my definition of love changed. 

    My family and my religion did not.

     

    I changed my perceptions.

    About love and about my self.

     

    In my world, and in my heart of hearts – I feel I am one with reality.

     

     

    As for not trusting christians.  I am still doubtful.

     

    I would change it to being skeptical of most.

     

     

    I am grateful for those who shared their words, their faith, and love of religion. You have added a gradation to my painting a wide sweep – there are tones. So not all the same.

     

    I see myself in you.

     

    I also see my old habits of black and white, with us or against us – sentiments showing.

     

    A bad habit of mine.

     

    For I do see the world more nuanced.

     

    With a heap of skepticism on religions.

    Perhaps our definitions of love are in various tones as well.  We all decide what love is.

     

     

    I still feel the uncomfortable space that opens up when I am asked about God and Religion.

     

    Equally when I asked about family.  Being estranged isn't the common path.

     

    Many who have not left church or family will not be as sensitive to the phrases, questions of others.  How a simple statement – excludes you.

     

    Do I trigger doubts in them or do they trigger doubts in Me?

     

    I didn’t try to change my childhood family – instead I began changing my own legacy within my home.  By loving me – it is my hope that love will be passed down.  

     

    I am redefining what love is – to me.

    How love feels and how it engages with others.

    I vowed not to let the legacy of abuse define me. What it actually was was a vow to find love – be love.  My greatest legacy to pass to my children is love.  

    A love that is accepting, kind, peaceful, joyful, allowing – natural love without constraints of any sort.

     

    I believe my childhood family believes in their definition of love and they find it there.

     

    As for religion – I have zero desire to find a new religion.

    It isn’t a place of love for me.

     

    My church is where love is.

     

    While the sentiments of my previous post is about religion and christians – What I believe the source of both is – is love.

    Each person and the church they follow – has a definition of love – a sentiment that has standards and morals.  Your love matches.

    The old adage, "Birds of the feather flock together" has relevance.  The flock is what they called parishioners in the past.  Who you fly with matters.  

    My flock is small – misfits – who find themselves outside of what is called normal – the imperfect souls.

    The tagline of this blog "I M Perfect and it is impossible not to be.

    We fly with those who feel like home.

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  • I Celebrate Individual Freedoms

    On this Independence Day, most will celebrate Freedom – and I believe there are many who cannot see beyond their own choices; in religion and love, and I guess politics.  They want to color the whole world so it reflects their own choices.

    Many never have practiced freedom and yet celebrate it like it is something they know intimately.

     

    I wasn't able to know freedom until I knew what not being free was.

    Freedom begins in the mind.

    With our thoughts and beliefs.

     

    For so many years I believed that others needed to change.

    Others needed to do things differently

    Love different,

    Be different,

    Believe different,

    Act different.

    Coming from sameness of being in a conservative cult like religion, I wanted everyone to be the same.

    Same felt right. Different felt wrong.

     

    When so many wave their freedom flags, what they really want is sameness. They don't want US to be free, they want us to be like them. Often many have minds and thoughts/beliefs that will not allow those unlike them to be free.  

     

    It wasn't until I was unlike my old church, that I understood this.

    I was now one that wasn't okay.

    I didn't belong

    I didn't think or make the same choices.

    I was different.

     

    They don't celebrate different or embrace and love different.

     

    Freedom isn't conditional – just as many love with conditions, they 'grant' freedom with conditions.

     

    It feels most awkward this year to be celebrating freedom – when choices are constricted.

    At best it is half freedom day.

    Where males are more free than women in our country.

     

    Christians want their religion to be free – while they put constraints on other beliefs.

     

    I am pretty certain, the more certain you are about your religion and your beliefs – the less you allow others the freedom to believe differently.

     

    So many of us were born into conservative thinking and beliefs, in a male dominated home. Born in captivity and celebrating freedom. Freedom few truly know the meaning of.

     

    The cage is invisible – yet like an iron curtain in their minds.

     

    Practicing freedom means you allow everyone to be free to be themselves, the freedom of choice, voice and action.  Freedom is an individualize way of being. Where power is on the individual – not overruled by a group.

    I had to look up the definition

    "the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint."

     

    So often the ones who are screaming freedom and my body – my choice are the ones trying to restrain others from being free.

     

    The flags many are waving are restraint bands.

    They want to take away rights from others – so their beliefs and religions appear more right.

    The more freedom of choice we have, the more awkward their religion.

     

    While their freedom of religion and freedom of independence seems to be what they want – what they really want is for us NOT to be free.

     

    They want us to fall into line step behind them. To be and do as they do.

     

    If only Independence Day was about independent individuals.

    I have to look up independent.

    ": not subject to control by others : self-governing."

     

    This is freedom.

     

    Those outside of the church and religions, want the freedom from being controlled – we don't want your beliefs.  And yet those inside beliefs are trickling outside – and restraining freedoms.

     

    We don't want to be under the same controls that you all are.

    We want self-governing.

    That is freedom.

     

    If you are in conservative, cult-like, overreaching religion. You don't know freedom at the root level.

    Perhaps what you are cheering for is your church and beliefs.

    But you are not cheering for those outside of it – to be allowed the same.

     

    Freedom isn't just one way.  One right way. One right Church. One right love. One right freedom.

    Freedom includes everything.

     

    I wish we were really celebrating everyone and all choices.

    That is an Independence Day I could celebrate.

    I truly want total freedom for all.

    Individuals who are free – are peaceful, loving and kind.

    For they want for everyone the rights to be themselves.

    No matter how it appears.

     

    The more we allow everyone their freedom, the more empowered each individual would be.  

    When you take away someone's power you are making them less.

     

    What seems like an oxymoron, the more freedoms you give someone, the more powerful they become.

    Today I would love to celebrate the freedoms of everyone – but we are not all free.

     

    Our country may be free from outside rule; but within the country we are losing individual rule. We cannot be a free country when our individuals are not free.

     

    They speak of separation of church and state. We actually need separation from other individuals.

    We need total empowerment on the individual level.

    America is only as free as the one who has the least amount of rights.

     

    The strength of any group is as strong as its weakest member.  

    My freedom allowed the rest of my house to be free.

    We are strong by our individual strengths.

     

    I celebrate individual freedom.

     

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