It’s post 2 AM and I’m up typing on my husband’s computer.
I don’t feel tired.
I’ve been dealing with a lot of insomnia lately. I’m not sure why. Maybe the change of seasons.
I’ve been dealing with my life changing pretty fucking radically in the last year or so. Maybe more than the last year or so. Maybe my whole life is just catching up with me in a way. Maybe I’m just now on the right learning curve or figuring out the right way to approach life… or maybe it’s wrong?
It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that I’m learning every day that the more I learn, the less I know.
I know this has been a “wise proverb” for aeons – the thing is, I never really believed it.
I always thought that if I searched hard enough for truth, I would find it – or rather – it would find me. I thought that if I proved myself good enough, kind enough, self depreciating enough – I would be found worthy – even before death – of knowing the great unknowable things. That a light would shed on me from heaven and bestow upon me stark reality – and I would be ready to grasp it.
Unfortunately, that’s not how the world works. Or the Spiritual Realm. Or the afterlife. Or any of it.
We forge through on our paths and we hope that we are doing the right things and worshiping the right deity and talking to the right people, and some of us maybe are – or all of us are… that’s the thing.
I was told as a youth that post-modernism is akin to worshiping the devil. Believing that there can be more than one truth. Now it’s hard for me to believe that is anything other than fear-mongering indoctrination.
I know this is sacrilege, and I’m not sure what to do about that. Does this mean I’m not longer a “Christian”? What does that word even mean now adays? What has it every meant? Christian was a derogatory term used during the persecution of Followers of The Way. Then it was adopted as a name for a religion – but that religion, supposedly following the teachings of Jesus – went on to do all sorts of horrible things: The Crusades, forcing people to pay for forgiveness, power mongering, lies, bombing abortion clinics, stoning homosexuals, upholding slavery – and using the Bible to say all of it was good.
Heck, yesterday I read a blog about women wearing long skirts and homeschooling their children and talking about home-making as the only appropriate profession and how girls shouldn’t go to college and they are basing all of this on Scripture and touting it as “true Christianity”. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but when I read the Bible I see Jesus treating women as worthy and important. I see him scorning Martha for making dinner and doing chores and praising Mary for sitting at his feet and listening – sitting out there with the MEN and listening. I see him listening to his mom. I see him caring about women and seeing them as so much more than society saw them as in that day. Maybe I’m just reading into it what I want to see and hear. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.
Tonight I went to a wedding. Two beautiful souls got married. They are both women.
Ten years ago if you would have asked me I would have said that homosexuality was sinful, dirty, and wrong. I admit this.
I thought there was never ever a good reason for abortion.
I read I Kissed Dating Goodbye and I tried my damnedest to follow the rules laid out for me there.
I refused to have sex with my boyfriend because I knew in my heart that God wanted me to save sex for marriage.
I treated boyfriends like husbands because cheating is wrong.
I felt ashamed when I got pregnant after I was married because I’d been trained to be ashamed of pregnancy all my life.
I read the Bible and Jesus is eating with the riff raff. He’s made fun of for the friends he chooses. He’s called a drunk. And I don’t know much, but I know that I have felt more love in the last few years from the “sinners” outside the church than the “saints” inside. The Christian friends I’ve managed to keep are non-traditional at best. Heretics at worst.
Two of my best friends are gay and one is pansexual.
I came out to those close to me as bi – and maybe I’m pan since trans people can be beautiful too…
I’m at this weird crossroads.
My pansexual friend used to call herself a Christian – but her Christian friends and family are saying that she isn’t one anymore because of the things she does. She thinks women are sexy. She smokes cigarettes and sometimes pot. She has tattoos and piercings. She doesn’t know if she believes in an afterlife.
But she tries to live out the philosophy and teaching of Jesus of Nazareth – so what does that mean? If she doesn’t believe in resurrection – is she not saved? And how can you know if you’re saved? How can you really know – and how can someone be saved who says they believe in Jesus as the Son of God and in the resurrection but their lives reflect hatred and envy and selfishness and greed? And she shows love and kindness and hospitality and sympathy and mercy – and she is not saved?
Everything used to make sense when I was younger.
I had all of my answers in a little box. I kept it in a safe place in my uncluttered mind and I hid the key where no one could find it. Safety is in structure and belief systems and creeds and memorization and simply allowing yourself to be a depository for the interpretations of people who want you to turn out a certain way or have some vested interest in your behavior.
I pledged the flag and treated it with care and thought pacifists were idiots and vegetarians were un-American and dressing modestly would keep me from wanting in my boyfriend’s pants. I thought that if I behaved in a certain way I would find contentment and peace and that even if it was hard at least I would find fulfillment.
And it didn’t work that way.
I love Jesus. I don’t think that God is only Male. Or masculine.
I want desperately to believe in the resurrection, but I’m not sure – and that scares me – and at the same time, I don’t believe that God intended to scare me into submission.
I have a great marriage and still regret not sleeping with one of my ex-boyfriends.
I had a crush on another girl.
I got sexually abused in middle and high school.
I realized that patriotism and Christianity are not the same in countries that are not America.
I studied the Pagan origins of the Christian festivals and I don’t find them appalling.
I like yoga.
My mother in law saw me son meditating and told him he was worshiping another god.
I was so pissed.
I wanted to slap her.
And yet – I remember in high school I read an article about that very thing and I feared that if I meditated I would be possessed.
My belief system is a disaster.
And yet I know there is a God.
I know there is something much bigger than me and that when I try to understand it I will always fall short.
I know that there are other powers, a spiritual realm.
I know that when you die something leaves your body and the best way to describe that something is to talk about a soul.
I feel that part of me is destined for eternity.
I believe that Jesus taught The Way we should live and I try to follow that way…
Who am I and where is the rest of me and when will it catch up?