Astute Reader Regina (love the alliteration!) wondered how long-distance Tarot readings can work, thinking that the energy of the person seeking an answer would be important for the reader (me) to tune into. I thought that was a very good question to talk about since I'm offering long-distance readings (as well as in-person and phone readings).
When I do a reading, for someone near or far, I create sacred space, clear my mind and ask the universe for guidance. When doing an in-person reading, the seeker is the one who shuffles and cuts the cards while meditating on their question. When the seeker is not present, I shuffle while meditating on the question and ask the universe for guidance for myself on behalf of the seeker.
I have done readings both ways and both are effective and this is how I make sense of it: The universe is boundless and not limited in space or time the way people are. Synchronicity happens whether both seeker and reader are present in the same room or not. This has been my experience, anyway.
The one advantage of having the seeker present is that we can have an immediate dialogue about the cards and I can also do follow-up layouts as necessary. But, we can do that via email or phone, just less immediately (as in the case of email) and less viscerally (i.e. by phone & email).
The bottom line for me is that I have experienced how effective Tarot readings can be, whether the seeker is present or not. Why that is so is not yet explained by science but that's okay with me. As Shakespeare said, There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Namaste.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Whap-You-In-The-Head Books
Whap-You-In-The-Head Books (WYITHBs) are those that slap you awake from the dream of everyday life, sort of like a triple espresso first thing in the morning, but the jolt is to your soul. In that moment, just for a moment, WYITHBs give you a glimpse of what is really real, you experience a moment of satori, enlightenment, and you are forever changed.
Usually, these books are incredibly well-written, but not always, not necessarily. The key ingredient is really the synchronicity between the book's themes and your own life. For a 13-year-old girl in the 70's, reading Judy Blume could be a life-altering experience: sexual feelings are normal, and not sins to be confessed to the priest in the dark, musty box that looked like two upright coffins, side-by-side. Who knew?
The quintessential WYITHB for me was Toni Morrison's, Beloved, which also won the Pulitzer Prize. Not only is the book amazing in and of itself, it also resonated with me for a deeply personal struggle I was in the midst of, a struggle that I could scarcely articulate. At the time, I had finished my M.A. and was working as a counselor, but deep down really wanted to be a writer, a novelist. I had been raised to believe that my worth as a person came from helping others, which I was certainly doing at the Center Against Rape and Domestic Violence (CARDV) in Corvallis. Writing stories seemed to me to be very self-indulgent and not at all worthy (never mind the whole starving artist thing which I didn't even think about then).
Now, for those of you who are going, Well, duh, stories are important!, you weren't raised by my mother who was always telling me to get my nose out of a book and to go out and play. This same mother I never saw sitting down reading until I was a college student and back home one summer. Granted, she had 5 kids and worked full-time so I'm sure she never had time to read, but that's not how I understood it back then. I understood that one opened a book only when everything else more important was finished. And the work of making the world a better place is never done.
Then I read Beloved, a story that told the world that (spoiler alert) it is a loving mother who kills her own child rather than let her grow up a slave. Wow. What a powerful dichotomy between love and death; the story was like a Zen koan. The book whapped me in the head and when my ears stopped ringing I realized that stories do have the power to change the world for the better. I had known the fact of slavery, the history of slavery in our country, but I had never, before reading that novel, experienced in my own heart the degradation of slavery. In identifying with the characters, I lived in their world and shared their experiences. When I turned the last page and closed the cover, I was a different person than when I first opened the book. That's when I knew with a certainty that I would write novels and I would change the world.
Three unpublished novels later, I haven't changed any world but my own, and but for the support of my husband I would be a starving artist, but I am doing what feels necessary. Most days I wouldn't have it any other way.
What books have whapped you in head and changed your life? Please add a comment so we can all discover more great stories that will open our eyes and our hearts.
Usually, these books are incredibly well-written, but not always, not necessarily. The key ingredient is really the synchronicity between the book's themes and your own life. For a 13-year-old girl in the 70's, reading Judy Blume could be a life-altering experience: sexual feelings are normal, and not sins to be confessed to the priest in the dark, musty box that looked like two upright coffins, side-by-side. Who knew?
The quintessential WYITHB for me was Toni Morrison's, Beloved, which also won the Pulitzer Prize. Not only is the book amazing in and of itself, it also resonated with me for a deeply personal struggle I was in the midst of, a struggle that I could scarcely articulate. At the time, I had finished my M.A. and was working as a counselor, but deep down really wanted to be a writer, a novelist. I had been raised to believe that my worth as a person came from helping others, which I was certainly doing at the Center Against Rape and Domestic Violence (CARDV) in Corvallis. Writing stories seemed to me to be very self-indulgent and not at all worthy (never mind the whole starving artist thing which I didn't even think about then).
Now, for those of you who are going, Well, duh, stories are important!, you weren't raised by my mother who was always telling me to get my nose out of a book and to go out and play. This same mother I never saw sitting down reading until I was a college student and back home one summer. Granted, she had 5 kids and worked full-time so I'm sure she never had time to read, but that's not how I understood it back then. I understood that one opened a book only when everything else more important was finished. And the work of making the world a better place is never done.
Then I read Beloved, a story that told the world that (spoiler alert) it is a loving mother who kills her own child rather than let her grow up a slave. Wow. What a powerful dichotomy between love and death; the story was like a Zen koan. The book whapped me in the head and when my ears stopped ringing I realized that stories do have the power to change the world for the better. I had known the fact of slavery, the history of slavery in our country, but I had never, before reading that novel, experienced in my own heart the degradation of slavery. In identifying with the characters, I lived in their world and shared their experiences. When I turned the last page and closed the cover, I was a different person than when I first opened the book. That's when I knew with a certainty that I would write novels and I would change the world.
Three unpublished novels later, I haven't changed any world but my own, and but for the support of my husband I would be a starving artist, but I am doing what feels necessary. Most days I wouldn't have it any other way.
What books have whapped you in head and changed your life? Please add a comment so we can all discover more great stories that will open our eyes and our hearts.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Another Difference Between Cats and Dogs
This observation is from that witty man I married. When we get up in the morning our 4-year-old setter mix says, "Good morning, wonderful people! It's breakfast time? Hoo boy! And it's kibble! Yay! I love kibble! I love breakfast breakfast breakfast. Yay for you!" All accompanied by much wriggling and tail wagging.
Our two cats, on the other hand, are stalking about, tails flicking as they mutter, "I'm hungry and no one's fed me. It's outrageous, outRAGEous I tell you." No one does entitlement as well as cats.
My sympathies are actually with the cats. I am not a morning person and I cannot fucking believe I have to get up this early every day simply because morning people run the world and we are at the mercy of their infernal perkiness first thing every day. My night owl daughter greets each day with a mournful, "It's morning, again?" whilst the man in my life sings, chats with the dog, and wants to hear all about my upcoming day while inside my head my internal feline is yowling, "Stop talking to me! I haven't even had my breakfast yet. It's outRAGEous!"
Any dog and cat stories of your own? Please share.
Our two cats, on the other hand, are stalking about, tails flicking as they mutter, "I'm hungry and no one's fed me. It's outrageous, outRAGEous I tell you." No one does entitlement as well as cats.
My sympathies are actually with the cats. I am not a morning person and I cannot fucking believe I have to get up this early every day simply because morning people run the world and we are at the mercy of their infernal perkiness first thing every day. My night owl daughter greets each day with a mournful, "It's morning, again?" whilst the man in my life sings, chats with the dog, and wants to hear all about my upcoming day while inside my head my internal feline is yowling, "Stop talking to me! I haven't even had my breakfast yet. It's outRAGEous!"
Any dog and cat stories of your own? Please share.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Comedians Are God's Fools
Don't you just love a good laugh? I know I do, and I really admire people who are funny. My husband's sense of humor is what first attracted me to him. I was so dazzled by his wit and intelligence it was months before I realized he was good looking. Really. My brother pointed it out to me. [For those of you who have met my husband in social situations and are stunned and amazed that the man you experience as the brooding, silent type is really a wit, it's true. He saves his best material for me].
In traditional stories, it is the Fool who can point out uncomfortable truths to the King and live, because while telling the forbidden truth, the Fool also made the King laugh. Laughter was worth the price of facing some uncomfortable truth. That's why I say [cue portentous music], Beware the man who can't laugh at himself for he cannot allow himself to face the truth. Dick Cheney, anyone?
The Fool sees the truth, and the absurdity of our human condition, and points that out with a skewer in one hand and a balm in the other. This is a far cry from mean-spirited, hostile words that are purely meant to wound (campaign ads, anyone?). The gift of the Fool is that s/he serves up compassion and understanding along with the jokes. We know we have been Fooled when even in the midst of embarrassment at some misstep, we are still laughing. Remember the old adage, If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans. Comedians are God's Fools who point out to us all the ways our best plans and intentions go awry, and will always go awry because we are limited and fallible human beings, and that's okay because we're all in this together.
This is why I love personal essays. Generally, the writer is reflecting back on some difficult-at-the-time experience and doing so with perspective and humor that allows the reader to both share the pain of the original experience while also laughing at it from a safe distance. The best are willing and able to look foolish while exploring our common humanity and finding meaning there. Good personal essays take the writer's individual experience and find a universal meaning that we can all share.
As an example, I give you Cynthia Kaplan's, Leave the Building Quickly. She writes about being Jewish, a mother, an actress, a writer, a granddaughter, a Democrat, a friend--with verve and flair that had me laughing out loud, especially in the title essay. She is not afraid to laugh at herself and invites us to share the joke with her. You can find her books at the library, and the bookstore, and at her web site http://www.cynthiakaplan.com/. Warning: Her books are not simple and lighthearted. She dishes the dirt on death and aging and Alzheimer's and children's fears, but in a way that holds our hands and lets us know that whatever befalls us, we can handle it--maybe foolishly, maybe awkwardly--but we'll get through it and maybe be better people for having faced the truth of our existence and laughed.
In traditional stories, it is the Fool who can point out uncomfortable truths to the King and live, because while telling the forbidden truth, the Fool also made the King laugh. Laughter was worth the price of facing some uncomfortable truth. That's why I say [cue portentous music], Beware the man who can't laugh at himself for he cannot allow himself to face the truth. Dick Cheney, anyone?
The Fool sees the truth, and the absurdity of our human condition, and points that out with a skewer in one hand and a balm in the other. This is a far cry from mean-spirited, hostile words that are purely meant to wound (campaign ads, anyone?). The gift of the Fool is that s/he serves up compassion and understanding along with the jokes. We know we have been Fooled when even in the midst of embarrassment at some misstep, we are still laughing. Remember the old adage, If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans. Comedians are God's Fools who point out to us all the ways our best plans and intentions go awry, and will always go awry because we are limited and fallible human beings, and that's okay because we're all in this together.
This is why I love personal essays. Generally, the writer is reflecting back on some difficult-at-the-time experience and doing so with perspective and humor that allows the reader to both share the pain of the original experience while also laughing at it from a safe distance. The best are willing and able to look foolish while exploring our common humanity and finding meaning there. Good personal essays take the writer's individual experience and find a universal meaning that we can all share.
As an example, I give you Cynthia Kaplan's, Leave the Building Quickly. She writes about being Jewish, a mother, an actress, a writer, a granddaughter, a Democrat, a friend--with verve and flair that had me laughing out loud, especially in the title essay. She is not afraid to laugh at herself and invites us to share the joke with her. You can find her books at the library, and the bookstore, and at her web site http://www.cynthiakaplan.com/. Warning: Her books are not simple and lighthearted. She dishes the dirt on death and aging and Alzheimer's and children's fears, but in a way that holds our hands and lets us know that whatever befalls us, we can handle it--maybe foolishly, maybe awkwardly--but we'll get through it and maybe be better people for having faced the truth of our existence and laughed.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Tarot and Me
When I imagine my oldest, super-rational brother reading my blog, I see his eyes roll as he views the sidebar about my giving Tarot readings and saying to his wife, "She thinks Biblical literalism is an affront to reason, yet she gives Tarot readings. How inconsistent is that!" If there are any others of you out there like my brother, here's the story of the Tarot and me.
Over twenty years ago when I was getting my Masters in Counseling Psychology I became acquainted with Carl Jung and his theories of archetypes--images and stories that transcend culture and have a common meaning because they reflect common human experiences around the world. Since the Major Arcana cards in the Tarot deck tell one such common story, that of the Fool's journey through the world and underworld (the conscious and unconscious minds) until spiritual wholeness is achieved, I thought I'd check them out. I picked up Mary K Greer's, Tarot for Your Self, and began my Tarot study.
I certainly didn't believe that I could tell the future or my fortune with the cards. I simply thought they were cool projective devices, where the unrealized contents of my unconscious mind could be translated in a way that my conscious mind could understand. That was where my understanding stayed for many years, through lots of study of Tarot books and many readings done for myself and others. My favorite deck through all those years was the Daughters of the Moon, by Ffiona Morgan, a colorful, exuberant round deck that celebrated Goddesses around the world and shifted the cards to reflect a feminist understanding.
Over time, though, for me the ideology of the cards got in the way of their ability to speak to me and I moved over to the Whimsical Tarot by Dorothy Morrison and illustrated by Mary Hanson-Roberts. These cards were based on Western fairy tales and folk tales that were as familiar to me as breathing. I loved the playfulness of the cards and how familiarity with the fairy tales expanded the cards meaning depending upon what character in the story one focused on. It was in using these cards that I began to notice just how prescient the cards were, how they could tell me something I didn't know (about myself or someone else) but would later discover was true. To tell you the truth, I began to get a little freaked out. My experiences with Tarot were forcing me to consider something that my rational mind did not believe.
Carl Jung also developed his principle of synchronicity, where what most people would call coincidence is actually not random but part of a larger, meaningful pattern. Synchronicity has always been part of the rationale for how Tarot "works", that it's not simply coincidence that certain cards are picked in answer to certain questions, but rather part of a larger, patterned whole that can be apprehended if attended to and looked at with the correct lens. Too often for me to discount, the cards were synchronous with events in my life or in the life of the person for whom I was doing the reading. My relationship with the cards and my understanding of them expanded my mind beyond what, in the beginning, my rational self would not accept because I trusted my experience with the cards. I began to trust the cards and their wisdom--and my abilities to grasp and intuit their wisdom--in a way I never had before, and they have never let me down.
I now work with the Morgan-Greer Tarot, a deck in the Rider-Waite tradition, and love the very traditional solidity of the cards. I'd played for years with multi-cultural, feminist and narrative extrapolations so working with the more traditional deck is grounding me in the Fool's journey in a way I really appreciate. We are all Fool's in this life, trusting and hoping that each step we take into the unknown future will bring us and our families health and wholeness, yet all the while aware of the dangers that lurk around every dark corner. We can all use support, guidance and clarity as we walk our path and I have found the Tarot to be an excellent companion and guide.
I know the Tarot "works" because of my experiences with it. In the same way, I trust religious faith that is grounded in experience of the Sacred. I don't accept arbitrary, man-made rules (doctrine) that dictate what we should believe about the Sacred (such as Biblical literalism), but I respect anyone who's life is grounded in their relationship with their God. I read an essay by Nevada Barr, a mystery writer and nominal Christian, who said that she thinks any rules about behavior that supposedly come from God are only supposed to be applied within by the person who thinks those rules make sense. I'm paraphrasing here, but in essence she says that those guidelines were never meant to be used as whips to force others into certain behaviors or to punish or exclude those who fail. We are to look within, at our own actions and behavior, and make sure that we are behaving consistently with our beliefs, rather than using our beliefs as a litmus test for others.
I can get behind that kind of religious faith, one that is about one's own journey through life, one's own relationship with the Sacred, one's own understanding of what makes life worth living and the discovery of what actions best create a life lived with love and integrity. This, my friends, is the essence of the Fool's journey that we are all on. The Tarot inspires and guides me on my path. May you each find the guides you need as you travel your own roads.
Over twenty years ago when I was getting my Masters in Counseling Psychology I became acquainted with Carl Jung and his theories of archetypes--images and stories that transcend culture and have a common meaning because they reflect common human experiences around the world. Since the Major Arcana cards in the Tarot deck tell one such common story, that of the Fool's journey through the world and underworld (the conscious and unconscious minds) until spiritual wholeness is achieved, I thought I'd check them out. I picked up Mary K Greer's, Tarot for Your Self, and began my Tarot study.
I certainly didn't believe that I could tell the future or my fortune with the cards. I simply thought they were cool projective devices, where the unrealized contents of my unconscious mind could be translated in a way that my conscious mind could understand. That was where my understanding stayed for many years, through lots of study of Tarot books and many readings done for myself and others. My favorite deck through all those years was the Daughters of the Moon, by Ffiona Morgan, a colorful, exuberant round deck that celebrated Goddesses around the world and shifted the cards to reflect a feminist understanding.
Over time, though, for me the ideology of the cards got in the way of their ability to speak to me and I moved over to the Whimsical Tarot by Dorothy Morrison and illustrated by Mary Hanson-Roberts. These cards were based on Western fairy tales and folk tales that were as familiar to me as breathing. I loved the playfulness of the cards and how familiarity with the fairy tales expanded the cards meaning depending upon what character in the story one focused on. It was in using these cards that I began to notice just how prescient the cards were, how they could tell me something I didn't know (about myself or someone else) but would later discover was true. To tell you the truth, I began to get a little freaked out. My experiences with Tarot were forcing me to consider something that my rational mind did not believe.
Carl Jung also developed his principle of synchronicity, where what most people would call coincidence is actually not random but part of a larger, meaningful pattern. Synchronicity has always been part of the rationale for how Tarot "works", that it's not simply coincidence that certain cards are picked in answer to certain questions, but rather part of a larger, patterned whole that can be apprehended if attended to and looked at with the correct lens. Too often for me to discount, the cards were synchronous with events in my life or in the life of the person for whom I was doing the reading. My relationship with the cards and my understanding of them expanded my mind beyond what, in the beginning, my rational self would not accept because I trusted my experience with the cards. I began to trust the cards and their wisdom--and my abilities to grasp and intuit their wisdom--in a way I never had before, and they have never let me down.
I now work with the Morgan-Greer Tarot, a deck in the Rider-Waite tradition, and love the very traditional solidity of the cards. I'd played for years with multi-cultural, feminist and narrative extrapolations so working with the more traditional deck is grounding me in the Fool's journey in a way I really appreciate. We are all Fool's in this life, trusting and hoping that each step we take into the unknown future will bring us and our families health and wholeness, yet all the while aware of the dangers that lurk around every dark corner. We can all use support, guidance and clarity as we walk our path and I have found the Tarot to be an excellent companion and guide.
I know the Tarot "works" because of my experiences with it. In the same way, I trust religious faith that is grounded in experience of the Sacred. I don't accept arbitrary, man-made rules (doctrine) that dictate what we should believe about the Sacred (such as Biblical literalism), but I respect anyone who's life is grounded in their relationship with their God. I read an essay by Nevada Barr, a mystery writer and nominal Christian, who said that she thinks any rules about behavior that supposedly come from God are only supposed to be applied within by the person who thinks those rules make sense. I'm paraphrasing here, but in essence she says that those guidelines were never meant to be used as whips to force others into certain behaviors or to punish or exclude those who fail. We are to look within, at our own actions and behavior, and make sure that we are behaving consistently with our beliefs, rather than using our beliefs as a litmus test for others.
I can get behind that kind of religious faith, one that is about one's own journey through life, one's own relationship with the Sacred, one's own understanding of what makes life worth living and the discovery of what actions best create a life lived with love and integrity. This, my friends, is the essence of the Fool's journey that we are all on. The Tarot inspires and guides me on my path. May you each find the guides you need as you travel your own roads.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Sex, Power and Politics
So yet another Presidential candidate is accused of sexual hanky-panky. I don't know what I'm more tired of, politicians who can't reign in their libidos or newspapers for publishing what amounts to no more than gossip. And does it really matter?
Apparently, sex and politics go hand in hand (so to speak) and I can see why. Politics is ultimately about power and power is the ultimate turn-on. Biologists probably know why, probably something to do with a survival need to cling to those who can acquire resources. I imagine there's a psychological explanation, too. Perhaps human beings have a need to admire and doing so enlarges our own life and sense of self. That's why groupies cluster around the famous and powerful, to see if some of that magic will rub off on them. And too many politicians appear all too happy to do a little rubbing.
I can appreciate the temptation to stray. I imagine it's the ultimate ego trip, at first anyway, having people throw themselves at you. I remember reading an interview about Michael J. Fox many years ago who was a major player at one time, and his mom was telling him how all those girls were only going out with him because he was famous. He was all, "So?" He didn't care why he was getting action; he was just happy that he was. Understandable, perhaps, in a teenage boy, and he wasn't married. But I don't want my married politicians to act like teenage boys. I want them to be men (and women) of integrity, which means being faithful if married and not looking at groupies as prizes one is entitled to.
I imagine that groupie sex is ultimately hollow, little better than masturbation, and ultimately a kind of addiction to fill up the empty, insecure spaces that haunt especially the most powerful. I can muster up some compassion for that kind of infidelity. I think that's been Bill Clinton's problem, though others may think differently. He was either the prototypical politician-as-sex-addict, or the politician-player, a complete user who is only after what he can get in the moment, to heck with anyone else. That kind of person is just venal and doesn't deserve any one's trust. Some people think Bill Clinton falls more under that category.
Either way, constant infidelity corrupts like a pebble in a pond, spreading its stink from the two people involved, to the betrayed spouse, any children, and among all the many staffers who always know what their candidate or leader is up to. Infidelity corrupts because it is lying and those who participate in the lie betray both the Truth, capital T, and the truth of their souls. The effect of power and publicity on all men is the aggravation of self, a sort of tumor that ends by killing the victim's sympathies (Henry Brooks Adams). Infidelity is wrong because it ultimately hurts everyone it touches, and most especially the character of the married man who chose to betray what he said he stood for.
I can't help but think I sound really Puritan, but I think these are the spiritual and emotional consequences of ongoing, repeated infidelity. Everyone can make a mistake and I think everyone should get one pass, if there's remorse and renewed fidelity. Fidelity in a marriage is a choice, an ongoing choice that couples need to continually make. At times, I imagine we all might need help making the right choice and that's where the sex partners of these married people come in. What the heck are these (mostly) women doing having sex with married men? Especially the ones, like Gennifer Flowers (remember her?) who taped conversations (and maybe other activities?) with Bill Clinton. What was she doing, planning for a spot of rainy-day blackmail?
That situation was sordid, as is most sexual betrayal. Politics often seems to bring out the worst in people when what we need is the best. We can't ever elect someone who is without flaw; no human being is perfect. But, we can carefully assess the characters of those running and determine whether their flaws, whether sexual in nature or something else, are fatal to themselves or the country. George Bush's flaws--his lying, his small-mindedness, his ignorance, his inability to see shades of gray--have made him a terrible President. Let's hope the American people will have better judgement next time around.
Apparently, sex and politics go hand in hand (so to speak) and I can see why. Politics is ultimately about power and power is the ultimate turn-on. Biologists probably know why, probably something to do with a survival need to cling to those who can acquire resources. I imagine there's a psychological explanation, too. Perhaps human beings have a need to admire and doing so enlarges our own life and sense of self. That's why groupies cluster around the famous and powerful, to see if some of that magic will rub off on them. And too many politicians appear all too happy to do a little rubbing.
I can appreciate the temptation to stray. I imagine it's the ultimate ego trip, at first anyway, having people throw themselves at you. I remember reading an interview about Michael J. Fox many years ago who was a major player at one time, and his mom was telling him how all those girls were only going out with him because he was famous. He was all, "So?" He didn't care why he was getting action; he was just happy that he was. Understandable, perhaps, in a teenage boy, and he wasn't married. But I don't want my married politicians to act like teenage boys. I want them to be men (and women) of integrity, which means being faithful if married and not looking at groupies as prizes one is entitled to.
I imagine that groupie sex is ultimately hollow, little better than masturbation, and ultimately a kind of addiction to fill up the empty, insecure spaces that haunt especially the most powerful. I can muster up some compassion for that kind of infidelity. I think that's been Bill Clinton's problem, though others may think differently. He was either the prototypical politician-as-sex-addict, or the politician-player, a complete user who is only after what he can get in the moment, to heck with anyone else. That kind of person is just venal and doesn't deserve any one's trust. Some people think Bill Clinton falls more under that category.
Either way, constant infidelity corrupts like a pebble in a pond, spreading its stink from the two people involved, to the betrayed spouse, any children, and among all the many staffers who always know what their candidate or leader is up to. Infidelity corrupts because it is lying and those who participate in the lie betray both the Truth, capital T, and the truth of their souls. The effect of power and publicity on all men is the aggravation of self, a sort of tumor that ends by killing the victim's sympathies (Henry Brooks Adams). Infidelity is wrong because it ultimately hurts everyone it touches, and most especially the character of the married man who chose to betray what he said he stood for.
I can't help but think I sound really Puritan, but I think these are the spiritual and emotional consequences of ongoing, repeated infidelity. Everyone can make a mistake and I think everyone should get one pass, if there's remorse and renewed fidelity. Fidelity in a marriage is a choice, an ongoing choice that couples need to continually make. At times, I imagine we all might need help making the right choice and that's where the sex partners of these married people come in. What the heck are these (mostly) women doing having sex with married men? Especially the ones, like Gennifer Flowers (remember her?) who taped conversations (and maybe other activities?) with Bill Clinton. What was she doing, planning for a spot of rainy-day blackmail?
That situation was sordid, as is most sexual betrayal. Politics often seems to bring out the worst in people when what we need is the best. We can't ever elect someone who is without flaw; no human being is perfect. But, we can carefully assess the characters of those running and determine whether their flaws, whether sexual in nature or something else, are fatal to themselves or the country. George Bush's flaws--his lying, his small-mindedness, his ignorance, his inability to see shades of gray--have made him a terrible President. Let's hope the American people will have better judgement next time around.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
In Which I Profess My Love For Another Woman
So, I know this woman. Not in the Biblical sense, of course. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends are lesbians (you know who you are!). In fact, some days it seems like it might just be easier, what with the seemingly mysterious-to-men location of that special hot button, that doesn't really ever move, yet here we are again, A little to the left, honey, no your left, now higher, almost, yes! No! That's okay; we'll try again later. [I'm speaking about men in general, sweety, don't worry, you are fabulous in bed!]. But I digress.
So, I know of this woman. I met her . . . well, not really met her, not in person, but on the blogosphere. Which always reminds me of blob-o-sphere, as if all of us people were little round blobs floating around in the ether and some days, let me tell you, I feel majorly blobby, usually 3-5 days a month if you know what I'm saying. But I digress.
So, there's this blog written by this woman and I just love her! Love her to pieces! Not love, love, of course--not that there's anything wrong with that and we've covered this already (see Paragraph 1)--but her blog is funny and informative and a boon to all writers trying to break into publishing.
Her name is Anne Mini. Her last name makes me picture her as really small, maybe 4'11", with a little button nose and black eyes like Raggedy Anne, although, I don't know, maybe that's just my imagination and she looks really different, maybe a kind of Valkyrie, an Amazon with sword in hand slicing decisively through the barriers to the publishing world on behalf of all struggling writers as she shouts instructions over her shoulder to the rest of us as we slowly advance behind her towards the barred gates of New York publishers, determined to climb the walls if necessary and to hell with the painful burns from the boiling oil thrown over the barricades we will not surrender we will not give up we will endure rejection after rejection after rejection until we have carpal tunnel syndrome from typing endless drafts and our brains have been emptied of every last word even supererogation which means the performance of more than is required, demanded, or expected and just about sums up the aspiring writers life dammit! But I digress.
So, Anne Mini's blog can be found at http://www.annemini.com/ and if you're a writer you should really check it.
So, I know of this woman. I met her . . . well, not really met her, not in person, but on the blogosphere. Which always reminds me of blob-o-sphere, as if all of us people were little round blobs floating around in the ether and some days, let me tell you, I feel majorly blobby, usually 3-5 days a month if you know what I'm saying. But I digress.
So, there's this blog written by this woman and I just love her! Love her to pieces! Not love, love, of course--not that there's anything wrong with that and we've covered this already (see Paragraph 1)--but her blog is funny and informative and a boon to all writers trying to break into publishing.
Her name is Anne Mini. Her last name makes me picture her as really small, maybe 4'11", with a little button nose and black eyes like Raggedy Anne, although, I don't know, maybe that's just my imagination and she looks really different, maybe a kind of Valkyrie, an Amazon with sword in hand slicing decisively through the barriers to the publishing world on behalf of all struggling writers as she shouts instructions over her shoulder to the rest of us as we slowly advance behind her towards the barred gates of New York publishers, determined to climb the walls if necessary and to hell with the painful burns from the boiling oil thrown over the barricades we will not surrender we will not give up we will endure rejection after rejection after rejection until we have carpal tunnel syndrome from typing endless drafts and our brains have been emptied of every last word even supererogation which means the performance of more than is required, demanded, or expected and just about sums up the aspiring writers life dammit! But I digress.
So, Anne Mini's blog can be found at http://www.annemini.com/ and if you're a writer you should really check it.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Fundi-Loving God, Part II
When we last left our Fundamentalists, they were covering their ears singing, "La la la I can't hear you," when information and ideas contrary to their orthodoxy came their way. What is that all about?
I knew a woman, a Baptist, funny as all get out, who told me she liked her religion because it made things easy for her because she got all her truth from one source which meant she "didn't have to think about it." Honest to God, that's what she said. It was years ago, now, that she told me this but I never forgot it I was so stunned.
There's an aspiration for you: What to do you want to be when you grow up? I want to be someone who never has to think about anything. And certainly, not thinking does take work, since we live in the information age and new ideas and knowledge fly about at the speed of your fastest bandwidth. It takes a huge capacity for denial and self-delusion to block out all that information headed your way.
I read that the word, heresy, comes from a Greek word whose root meaning has to do with choice. Choosing to think for one's self, and coming to conclusions outside the established orthodoxy, is to be heretical. Which would you rather be--a thinking, choosing, deciding-for-yourself heretical adult, or an approval-seeking child who lets others decide your opinions for you?
Now, I'm not speaking out against faith in a personal God--I'm simply pointing out the affront to reason, scholarship, science, and critical thinking that is the man-made doctrine of Biblical literalism.
Of course, my underlying assumption is that no one who thinks for him or herself would choose to believe--in the face of all the scholarship to the contrary--that the Bible is the inerrant word of God and therefore to be taken literally. My daughter is in 6th grade and she has a classmate who said that science is wrong because it's "just theories" but the Bible is true because it's "God's Word." The wealth of ignorance in that statement makes me physically ill, and makes me fear for the future of our country.
Ignorance and prejudice are deadly combinations when fueled by misunderstood religious doctrine as interpreted by power-hunger, malevolent men. Just look at 9/11, the religious right and NRA lobbyists (I'm joking about the last one, sort of). The best protection of democracy is a well-educated, thoughtful citizenry. So, do your part: think, read, learn, discuss, watch Jon Stewart, and most of all, listen. Listen to points of view different from your own. Listen to people who know more than you do. Listen to your own heart and conscience. Listen to your experience. Then exercise the sublime achievement of American democracy: Exercise your freedom to think for yourself and then choose to act on behalf of your point of view!
I knew a woman, a Baptist, funny as all get out, who told me she liked her religion because it made things easy for her because she got all her truth from one source which meant she "didn't have to think about it." Honest to God, that's what she said. It was years ago, now, that she told me this but I never forgot it I was so stunned.
There's an aspiration for you: What to do you want to be when you grow up? I want to be someone who never has to think about anything. And certainly, not thinking does take work, since we live in the information age and new ideas and knowledge fly about at the speed of your fastest bandwidth. It takes a huge capacity for denial and self-delusion to block out all that information headed your way.
I read that the word, heresy, comes from a Greek word whose root meaning has to do with choice. Choosing to think for one's self, and coming to conclusions outside the established orthodoxy, is to be heretical. Which would you rather be--a thinking, choosing, deciding-for-yourself heretical adult, or an approval-seeking child who lets others decide your opinions for you?
Now, I'm not speaking out against faith in a personal God--I'm simply pointing out the affront to reason, scholarship, science, and critical thinking that is the man-made doctrine of Biblical literalism.
Of course, my underlying assumption is that no one who thinks for him or herself would choose to believe--in the face of all the scholarship to the contrary--that the Bible is the inerrant word of God and therefore to be taken literally. My daughter is in 6th grade and she has a classmate who said that science is wrong because it's "just theories" but the Bible is true because it's "God's Word." The wealth of ignorance in that statement makes me physically ill, and makes me fear for the future of our country.
Ignorance and prejudice are deadly combinations when fueled by misunderstood religious doctrine as interpreted by power-hunger, malevolent men. Just look at 9/11, the religious right and NRA lobbyists (I'm joking about the last one, sort of). The best protection of democracy is a well-educated, thoughtful citizenry. So, do your part: think, read, learn, discuss, watch Jon Stewart, and most of all, listen. Listen to points of view different from your own. Listen to people who know more than you do. Listen to your own heart and conscience. Listen to your experience. Then exercise the sublime achievement of American democracy: Exercise your freedom to think for yourself and then choose to act on behalf of your point of view!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Sexism hurts my feelings
I'll do Part II of God and the Fundis tomorrow because media-savvy reader Christine sent me this link: http://womensmediacenter.com/ex/020108.html and you should check it out. The writer articulates much better than I can just how sexism is still alive and well in our society and coloring the response to Hillary Clinton's campaign.
The term, sexism, has such a clinical, sociological sound that it disguises what it really is--women-hating. Hating, disparaging, belittling, criticising, demeaning, abusing, hitting, bruising, raping, killing--that's what gets done to women by those who are sexist. Nice men, men who don't hate women, don't like thinking about this aspect of our society. I've noticed nice men getting uncomfortable when women bring it up, as if somehow it were in poor taste to do so--or a form of reverse sexism, since after all, not all men treat women badly. It definitely is uncomfortable to realize that half the planet is at risk for being violently attacked--verbally and physically--simply for being female. I know I'm not comfortable with that.
I'm not at all comfortable living as the object of derision, and you know what, after 45 years on this planet, it still hurts my feelings. I'm also angry, outraged, appalled, and disgusted, but mostly I'm back in my elementary school where the girls are required to be cheerleaders for the boys football games at recess and I'm back at my dinner table where my dad says that he doesn't have to do any housework because that's what wives and children are for.
And for those of you who say times have changed, I wish that were true but just last year the boys at my daughter's elementary school didn't want her to play football with them because she's a girl, and the yard monitor won't let the girls play soccer on the gigantic field because the boys want to play football, and the school counselor didn't want to test her for the Talented and Gifted Program because, he said, when girls are labeled as smart it's socially difficult for them and do I really want to do that to her because she's well-adjusted and popular right now.
One of my favorite bumper stickers is the one that reads, Mean People Suck. And they do. I am so saddened by people who attack and shame others whether for their sex, or sexual orientation or color of their skin or whatever. I'm doubly saddened when it's done under the guise of reportage, when really it's just viciousness against someone who dares to do something unexpected.
I'm heartened that their are religions that speak to just this human tendency to attack and scapegoat those who step out of expected norms. My favorite Unitarian Universalist principle is the first one that speaks of the need to promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person (http://www.uua.org/). You don't have to agree with Sentator Clinton's politics to treat her, and every other person, as someone who has inherent worth and dignity. Treating someone with respect doesn't mean approving of all his or her behavior and choices. What it does means is providing your perspective without being insulting, demeaning or mocking. Try it and let me know how it goes.
The term, sexism, has such a clinical, sociological sound that it disguises what it really is--women-hating. Hating, disparaging, belittling, criticising, demeaning, abusing, hitting, bruising, raping, killing--that's what gets done to women by those who are sexist. Nice men, men who don't hate women, don't like thinking about this aspect of our society. I've noticed nice men getting uncomfortable when women bring it up, as if somehow it were in poor taste to do so--or a form of reverse sexism, since after all, not all men treat women badly. It definitely is uncomfortable to realize that half the planet is at risk for being violently attacked--verbally and physically--simply for being female. I know I'm not comfortable with that.
I'm not at all comfortable living as the object of derision, and you know what, after 45 years on this planet, it still hurts my feelings. I'm also angry, outraged, appalled, and disgusted, but mostly I'm back in my elementary school where the girls are required to be cheerleaders for the boys football games at recess and I'm back at my dinner table where my dad says that he doesn't have to do any housework because that's what wives and children are for.
And for those of you who say times have changed, I wish that were true but just last year the boys at my daughter's elementary school didn't want her to play football with them because she's a girl, and the yard monitor won't let the girls play soccer on the gigantic field because the boys want to play football, and the school counselor didn't want to test her for the Talented and Gifted Program because, he said, when girls are labeled as smart it's socially difficult for them and do I really want to do that to her because she's well-adjusted and popular right now.
One of my favorite bumper stickers is the one that reads, Mean People Suck. And they do. I am so saddened by people who attack and shame others whether for their sex, or sexual orientation or color of their skin or whatever. I'm doubly saddened when it's done under the guise of reportage, when really it's just viciousness against someone who dares to do something unexpected.
I'm heartened that their are religions that speak to just this human tendency to attack and scapegoat those who step out of expected norms. My favorite Unitarian Universalist principle is the first one that speaks of the need to promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person (http://www.uua.org/). You don't have to agree with Sentator Clinton's politics to treat her, and every other person, as someone who has inherent worth and dignity. Treating someone with respect doesn't mean approving of all his or her behavior and choices. What it does means is providing your perspective without being insulting, demeaning or mocking. Try it and let me know how it goes.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Why God Prefers Fundamentalists - Part I
I've been thinking about the Adam and Eve story from Genesis. You know how it goes: Eve's sitting under a tree giving herself a pedi when Mr. Smooth slides up to her and says,
"Hey Girlfriend. Love the color! You look juicy, even more of a Goddess than usual. If you go eat some of that off-limits juicy fruit you'll be a Goddess all the time, know what I'm sayin'?"
She doesn't know what he's saying, but she's glad someone around this garden notices her fabulousness, especially today because when she woke up her hair was looking just the way it should. But, eating the fruit when God told them not to sounds like a big decision, so having learned her lesson about making decisions without input from Adam who was soooo bent out of shape when she committed them to a dinner party without telling him, she brings him the fruit, recounts the story and asks him what he thinks.
What he thinks is that it's just fruit and what's the big deal why is she bugging him about this when the game is about to start they eat fruit every day mangos one day then peaches it doesn't really matter he always eats what she puts in front of him and says it tastes delicious so whatever could she just let it go already. What he says is, "Sounds good, babe."
They eat the fruit.
Then Eve thinks, Holy crap, when did my ass get this big? I'd better go put on a pair of sweats.
Adam thinks, Dang, my boys are hanging out in the breeze where they might get snagged on something and I could hurt myself. I'd better wrap myself up in these fig leaves, just make a nice big package that'll keep my jewels all safe and sound. Hey, maybe the missus will want to unwrap my package later, if you know what I mean . . . .
Next thing that happens, God shows up and goes all Jewish mother on them: "After all I've done, it's not enough for you? My ungrateful children, always wanting more, and after I worked so hard to give you everything you wanted. You are dead to me. I curse you and all your offspring. I want you gone, out of my life. Who needs such ungrateful children? But after you go, call me once a week, Saturday or Sunday, I don't care, you decide. And if you have problems--and oy are you going to have problems--all you have to do is ask for my help. I'll be here for you, all the time, just waiting for you to pick up the phone already and let me know how you and my grandbabies are doing."
So, off Adam and Eve go, leaving their prime piece of real estate, and all their descendents cursed with Original Sin.
Which is what exactly?
They--us--are cursed with consciousness. The power to know right from wrong. The ability to think abstractly, to be self-conscious, self-aware. The ability to make choices, to discern, to think for ourselves.
This is why God prefers religious fundamentalists of every flavor over free thinkers. Fundamentalists have refused to be troubled by this curse of Original Sin. They are like those young people who have sex, regret it, and become born-again virgins. The fundis are closing Pandora's box, covering their ears and singing, "La la la I can't hear you," whenever ideas come at them that differ from what their pastor says the Bible says, or the mullah says the Koran says. God forbid they should think for themselves!
(Open minds should visit http://www.beliefnet.com/ and http://www.uua.org/)
"Hey Girlfriend. Love the color! You look juicy, even more of a Goddess than usual. If you go eat some of that off-limits juicy fruit you'll be a Goddess all the time, know what I'm sayin'?"
She doesn't know what he's saying, but she's glad someone around this garden notices her fabulousness, especially today because when she woke up her hair was looking just the way it should. But, eating the fruit when God told them not to sounds like a big decision, so having learned her lesson about making decisions without input from Adam who was soooo bent out of shape when she committed them to a dinner party without telling him, she brings him the fruit, recounts the story and asks him what he thinks.
What he thinks is that it's just fruit and what's the big deal why is she bugging him about this when the game is about to start they eat fruit every day mangos one day then peaches it doesn't really matter he always eats what she puts in front of him and says it tastes delicious so whatever could she just let it go already. What he says is, "Sounds good, babe."
They eat the fruit.
Then Eve thinks, Holy crap, when did my ass get this big? I'd better go put on a pair of sweats.
Adam thinks, Dang, my boys are hanging out in the breeze where they might get snagged on something and I could hurt myself. I'd better wrap myself up in these fig leaves, just make a nice big package that'll keep my jewels all safe and sound. Hey, maybe the missus will want to unwrap my package later, if you know what I mean . . . .
Next thing that happens, God shows up and goes all Jewish mother on them: "After all I've done, it's not enough for you? My ungrateful children, always wanting more, and after I worked so hard to give you everything you wanted. You are dead to me. I curse you and all your offspring. I want you gone, out of my life. Who needs such ungrateful children? But after you go, call me once a week, Saturday or Sunday, I don't care, you decide. And if you have problems--and oy are you going to have problems--all you have to do is ask for my help. I'll be here for you, all the time, just waiting for you to pick up the phone already and let me know how you and my grandbabies are doing."
So, off Adam and Eve go, leaving their prime piece of real estate, and all their descendents cursed with Original Sin.
Which is what exactly?
They--us--are cursed with consciousness. The power to know right from wrong. The ability to think abstractly, to be self-conscious, self-aware. The ability to make choices, to discern, to think for ourselves.
This is why God prefers religious fundamentalists of every flavor over free thinkers. Fundamentalists have refused to be troubled by this curse of Original Sin. They are like those young people who have sex, regret it, and become born-again virgins. The fundis are closing Pandora's box, covering their ears and singing, "La la la I can't hear you," whenever ideas come at them that differ from what their pastor says the Bible says, or the mullah says the Koran says. God forbid they should think for themselves!
(Open minds should visit http://www.beliefnet.com/ and http://www.uua.org/)
Friday, February 15, 2008
Vote For Hillary or the Bastards Win
I'm a registered Democrat and I'm voting for Hillary because she's a woman. Not only because she's a woman, but it's a crucial factor. If another man were running against Obama, instead of Senator Clinton, then I'd vote for Obama. Sexist, mutters my husband. Maybe, but it's the good kind of sexism.
As First Lady, Hillary got all kinds of crap because she didn't fit anyone's expectations of how a First Lady should act. She was a woman, defining a traditionally woman's role as she saw fit, and she got the shit kicked out of her because of it. She was the "little lady" who wouldn't stay in the little box others had carved out for her. She wanted a bigger First Lady box and the white male bastards got a little bent out of shape at her uppityness.
Now, this is not a rant against men. It's a rant against bastards. You know those bullies: The ones who think they are entitled to your pudding dessert on the playground or your life savings entrusted to a savings and loan; they are the ones who say women should be covered up from head to toe or they're no better than whores and and that the "inevitable" rape is their just dessert; they are the ones who say a woman who tears up on the campaign trail isn't tough enough to be Commander in Chief. Show me any woman who's given birth and I'll show you a woman tough enough to be Commander in Chief.
Hillary Clinton has spent her life defining who she is on her terms despite the bastards who told her she couldn't and that gives a person strength and integrity. She decided a woman's place was in the Senate and she went for it. Now she thinks she has the skills, perspective and strength to be President. When you consider the disaster that is George Bush, you can see that a woman still has to be twice as good as a man to get half as far. I say to the Senator from New York, You go girl! Don't let others define you or tell you how to live your life. And I say to the rest of you, vote for Hillary or the bastards win! ( Visit http://www.hillaryclinton.com/ and http://womensmediacenter.com/ex/020108.html)
As First Lady, Hillary got all kinds of crap because she didn't fit anyone's expectations of how a First Lady should act. She was a woman, defining a traditionally woman's role as she saw fit, and she got the shit kicked out of her because of it. She was the "little lady" who wouldn't stay in the little box others had carved out for her. She wanted a bigger First Lady box and the white male bastards got a little bent out of shape at her uppityness.
Now, this is not a rant against men. It's a rant against bastards. You know those bullies: The ones who think they are entitled to your pudding dessert on the playground or your life savings entrusted to a savings and loan; they are the ones who say women should be covered up from head to toe or they're no better than whores and and that the "inevitable" rape is their just dessert; they are the ones who say a woman who tears up on the campaign trail isn't tough enough to be Commander in Chief. Show me any woman who's given birth and I'll show you a woman tough enough to be Commander in Chief.
Hillary Clinton has spent her life defining who she is on her terms despite the bastards who told her she couldn't and that gives a person strength and integrity. She decided a woman's place was in the Senate and she went for it. Now she thinks she has the skills, perspective and strength to be President. When you consider the disaster that is George Bush, you can see that a woman still has to be twice as good as a man to get half as far. I say to the Senator from New York, You go girl! Don't let others define you or tell you how to live your life. And I say to the rest of you, vote for Hillary or the bastards win! ( Visit http://www.hillaryclinton.com/ and http://womensmediacenter.com/ex/020108.html)
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