Finding my road back to Her

Some are aware of my reading Sue Monk Kidd's "Dance of the Dissident Daughter." I've mentioned how amazed I've been to read someone putting to words feelings I've had about the inadequacies of mainstream religion in its approach to the Sacred Feminine. Inadequate is really an incorrect term, though, because to be inadequate would indicate some attempt to be adequate. There is none. Through my personal studies as well as the research of others, the Feminine Voice has been shut up, stomped down, locked away, and silenced. But not destroyed.

Unlike Kidd, I don't receive many spiritual messages in my dreams. Minus those nightmares about me drinking again (trust me, it's pretty ugly), my dreams are just the incoherent babblings of an asleep brain. But I do see the signs in life, especially when I look backward.

I cannot remember the first time I experienced the lack of Sacred Females with whom to relate. Sure, there's the Virgin Mary, but who can relate to her? I couldn't. Then there was Mary Magdalene, but my 4th grade catechism teacher said she was a sinner, no one to worship. When I reminded her, "Aren't we all sinners?" She told me, "Not that kind of sinner."

So I resigned myself to the fact the Virgin was all I had. Sure, I got pretty good at the rosary, but I didn't feel a longing to know her. The lack of spiritual role models who were of my gender festered in me. As I grew, so did my anger. When I turned 16, I finally had the freedom to skip church. I'd take the car, lie to my parents that I was going to the late mass, then spend the next hour driving around. Anything was better than hearing that bullshit, male-focused, fear-based doctrine.

It wasn't until my senior year of college while taking a "Women in Antiquity" course, did I learn that early pre-Christian cultures worshipped a female deity. It was before the Bronze Age, before "man" wielded weapons and learned that brute trumped fertility. I felt on fire when I learned this! Yes!!! There is a Feminine God out there. But I lacked the ability, the wherewithal to find her.

Then Dan Brown came out with that beauty of a "fictitious" tale about Mary Magdalene's womb being the Holy Grail. Brown's "DaVinci Code" renewed my sense of hope that there was more out there, kind of like my own personal X-Files. Looking at his bibliography, I was lead to other authors.

Margaret Starbird's "Woman With the Alabaster Jar" propelled me even deeper into this growing belief in the reality of a Feminine Sacred. I read another of her works, "The Goddess in the Gospels" and moved on to translations of the "Pistis Sophia," "The Gospel of Mary Magdalene" and "The Gnostic Gospels." To be honest, I haven't made a deep effort to muscle through the last three, they're on my self, waiting for me to be ready.

But reading Kidd's "Dissident Daughter" is confirming beyond any doubt that the Feminine Sacred is real and it doesn't replace the male image of God nor is it relegated to the slightly lower status of Holy Spirit, but is a spirituality in combination with the patriarchal view held for thousands of years.

Some people roll their eyes at me, others blow me off as a bitch; there are those who aren't comfortable with it, and still others who don't care. All of these reactions are fine. All I know is that patriarchal religious doctrine DOES NOT WORK FOR ME. All I ask is to continue my search without your judgement because I know I'm onto something. I can feel it in my bones and sense it in my heart and gut. And I see the signs.

Just 30 minutes ago, listening to some quality Bob Edwards public radio, he interviewed musician Joan Osborn on her new disc, "Little Wild One." He introduced her by playing some bars from her one-hit wonder: "If God Was One of Us" and those bars included the lyrics, "If God had a name, what would it be and would you call it to his face, if you were faced with him in all his glory? What would you ask if you had just one question?" Immediately I thought of a question, "Where's the women?" Then Bob proceeded to play the opening bars of the lead track, "Hallelujah in the City," from her new disc. While the disc pays homage to her home-away-from-away, New York City, I cannot deny the messages I heard in both songs:

I have been unfaithful.
I have been untrue.
How'd I find the road that brought me back to you.
Hallelujah!

I have spent my life yearning for the Feminine Sacred, but refusing to do the work to find Her. And in spite of myself, I found the road that is bringing me back to Her. Hallelujah!

Ideology & Religion Shit List

I just received this in an e-mail and had to share because I think it's totally funny! No, I am not the genius who came up with it ... but I play one on, oh screw that!

Taoism: Shit happens.
Confucianism: Confucius say, 'Shit happens.'
Buddhism: If shit happens, it isn't really shit.
Zen Buddhism: Shit is, and is not.
Zen Buddhism #2: What is the sound of shit happening?
Hinduism: This shit has happened before.
Islam: If shit happens, it is the will of Allah.
Islam #2: If shit happens, kill the person responsible.
Islam #3: If shit happens, blame Israel.
Catholicism: If shit happens, you deserve it.
Protestantism: Let shit happen to someone else.
Presbyterian: This shit was bound to happen.
Episcopalian: It's not so bad if shit happens, as long as you serve the right wine with it.
Methodist: It's not so bad if shit happens, as long as you serve grape juice with it.
Congregationalist: Shit that happens to one person is just as good as shit that happens to another.
Unitarian: Shit that happens to one person is just as bad as shit that happens to another.
Lutheran: If shit happens, don't talk about it.
Fundamentalism: If shit happens, you will go to hell, unless you are born again. (Amen!)
Fundamentalism #2: If shit happens to a televangelist, it's okay.
Fundamentalism #3: Shit must be born again.
Judaism: Why does this shit always happen to us?
Calvinism: Shit happens because you don't work.
Seventh Day Adventism: No shit shall happen on Saturday.
Creationism: God made all shit.
Secular Humanism: Shit evolves.
Christian Science: When shit happens, don't call a doctor - pray!
Christian Science #2: Shit happening is all in your mind.
Unitarianism: Come let us reason together about this shit.
Quakers: Let us not fight over this shit.
Utopianism: This shit does not stink.
Darwinism: This shit was once food.
Capitalism: That's MY shit.
Communism: It's everybody's shit.
Feminism: Men are shit.
Chauvinism: We may be shit, but you can't live without us...
Commercialism: Let's package this shit.
Impressionism: From a distance, shit looks like a garden.
Idolism: Let's bronze this shit.
Existentialism: Shit doesn't happen; shit IS.
Existentialism #2: What is shit, anyway?
Stoicism: This shit is good for me.
Hedonism: There is nothing like a good shit happening!
Mormonism: God sent us this shit.
Mormonism #2: This shit is going to happen again.
Wiccan: And it harms none, let shit happen.
Scientology: If shit happens, see 'Dianetics', p.157.
Jehovah's Witnesses: >Knock< >Knock<>

Jehovah's Witnesses #2: May we have a moment of your time to show you some of our shit?

Jehovah's Witnesses #3: Shit has been prophesied and is imminent; only the righteous shall survive its happening.

Moonies: Only really happy shit happens.

Hare Krishna: Shit happens, rama rama.

Rastafarianism: Let's smoke this shit!

Zoroastrianism: Shit happens half on the time.

Church of SubGenius: Bob shits.

Practical: Deal with shit one day at a time.

Agnostic: Shit might have happened; then again, maybe not.

Agnostic #2: Did someone shit?

Agnostic #3: What is this shit?

Satanism: SNEPPAH TIHS.

Atheism: What shit?

Atheism #2: I can't believe this shit!

Nihilism: No shit.

Matt 14: The wisdom of Care

So in my return to my bible read, we find the son of King Herod, Herod of Antipas beheads John the Baptist in a move to save face. In response to some fabulous dance moves, Herod promises the dancer anything and she, at the urging of her mother, asks for John's head. The King James version hits more directly at the cause of John's death coming as the result of womens' acts. (Bullshit, I know.)

Anyway, when Jesus hears of his friend's death, he takes off via boat for some seclusion. Somehow word got out, though, as to where he was headed and when he made land, the crowds were waiting. Now being the pissy, self-centered beast that I am, I would soooo have shown 'em the hand and said, "Dudes! Beat it! I need some 'J' time!" But in his beautiful coolness, he totally welcomes the throngs!

By nightfall the disciples tell Jesus to send the crowds away so they can go and scrounge up some food. To which Jesus replies, "Em, don't think so--start cookin'!" And then we hear the whining, "But we've only got these 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish!"You know the rest of the story, but what I love about this tale is the infinite wisdom of Care. At every moment of my life, my needs are met. Maybe not how I want them to be, but they're met nonetheless. It was Julian of Norwich who said, "But all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner thing shall be well."

Also in this chapter we get the story of Jesus walking on water. Sending off his disciples to go sailing, Jesus then heads for the mountain for some sorely needed alone time. In neither the Life Recovery Bible or the King James version is there reference to any worry or outcry from the disciples about the stormy motion of the sea. But in the wee early hours of the morn, aware of the tough waters, Jesus heads off to meet his fellas. Of course they're freaked, who wouldn't be seeing their friend strolling through the waves (for a great water walk tale, check out The Shack).

But what struck me about tonight's reading was, again, the message of Care. The Care, the Protection, the Peace came to them. There was no asking, no pleading. The disciples weren't cowering in their vessel, scared they were goin' down. Just as the crowd of 5,000 (plus chicks and kid-lettes) was fed aplenty without even thinking about supper.

This was a good chapter with which to resume my read. Out of these two stories I've heard since childhood did I gain a deeper reminder of how futile fear really is. In the words of that beautiful Jackie Warner, "The Universe is taking care of me and the Universe is taking care of you."

Namaste~

Lonely so long...

It's pathetic how long I've tried to avoid a return to this blog. I know, I could have just deleted it--but... I really couldn't. While I may fart around with this endeavor for a good couple of decades, I am determined to read this thing. I believe I've reached a point in my searching that to be ignorant of what this book contains leaves me unable to search as deeply for that "God of my understanding." Not that I'm looking for some Christian deity, mind you, but so that I may better understand the various views.

Presently I'm reading "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter" by Sue Monk Kidd and feel both gratitude and fear. Grateful that there is another person who appears to have gone through the awakening I must be in the midst of, and fearful because I have no idea what lies on the other side.

I'm still in the anger phase of "the awakening": pissed off at how patriarchy has ruled this planet since "man" first wielded metal and trumped creation with might. I'm so flippin' pissed off over the silent power and control wielded over women that continues into this very moment! Kidd reports in her memoir that this anger will pass, but must allow to by refusing bitterness. Hmmm. It's awfully hard not to be bitter... but it really gets me nowhere.

And I guess that's why I've chosen to return here. To get this thing a-movin' again. I don't want to be brittle and frigid and angry, I want to open and able to allow others to be whoever they want to be. And I know that's not going to come easy...

Me, a dissident daughter?

I always know when I've been watching too much CNN. I get all frothy about the jowls and adamant that "we" stay up on the presidential race and Gustav and the other stuff that normal people can handle staying up on. But me? Emmmm, I'm not that normal, I go mental. So I've shut off the tele, folded up the paper, and cracked open a new book: "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter" by Sue Monk Kidd.

I'd happened upon it during one of my many Amazon visits. I was initially put off when I saw the author. Kidd's latest book, "The Mermaid Chair," was one I really did not like. But then I remembered her "Secret Life of Bees" and how it set off in me a hunger to know more about the 'black madonna' of whom she wrote. So I've decided to leap into "Daughter."

What I understand thus far is that this is a tale of Kidd's very personal journey from the rigors of religious observance to a more intuitive relationship with self through the Feminine Sacred. I can only speak of my own experiences, not to other women's, when I say I have spent my 37 years very pissed off not only at catholicism, but the patriarchy of our planet!

Unlike Kidd who speaks of toeing the line, minding her manners, swallowing insults, and biting her tongue, all in an effort to be a good girl, I continue to spend so much of my energy letting everyone know how much of a good girl I am not.

Being a good girl has never worked for me. Being a bad girl? Hmmm. Well, at least I can say I've not gone quietly into that dark night.

I look at my relationship with my husband. And for better or worse, it is so insanely clear how I'm the Alpha Dog in this matrix. He spends the weekend canning, making salsa, drying plums. I spend the weekend caulking windows (and building Lego spaceships with the kids). And while we both seem to enjoy the stuff we do, I cannot help but feel like Al Bundy. I am not a Becky Homecky goin' all nuts over dust and laundry, but I wish I was. And while it may seem unrelated, it's all part of the same frustration for me. I'm not a good girl, keeping a perfect home, making the pies, and ironing the sheets. And while I know this about myself, I have yet to accept it and it's why I keep reading because I really think it's a spiritual thing.

It's not my intention to sound whiny and bitchy, though I do both very well, and it's also not my intention to hang an entire gender by their short-and-curlies. I'm just grasping to find a sense of self and a sense of focus that will work for me.

So, cheers to another leg of the journey.