God can be accessible within, not because I'm so amazing or brilliant or talented, but because God's loving energy is so vast.
I am aware of my human failings, God knows, but to give in to perpetual self-loathing is to miss the purpose of God's presence in each of our lives.
Isn't that what we are asked to do?
A passive life is a terrible thing to lead.
Yes, I have heard the message for nearly 25 years.
Yet, if I choose to wait for the Kingdom of God, don't I prevent it from taking place here on earth, where change is so desperately needed?
The Christian message now is not love and peace and inclusiveness. But rather the message I have learned is that I have been blessed because I happened to have been born into a nice Protestant family.
How terribly convenient! All the religious ideas floating about, and I picked the right one!
Yes, I am a chosen one indeed.
But what happens when I just can't believe anymore? And why do I feel afraid to let go of these old ideas that no longer fit with my reality? And what kind of love is that?
Love means allowing people to change.
God, too.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
God within
Maybe Jesus was special only because he KNEW he could access God within.
I say "only," but don't we all search for this?
No?
Of course we do not. Instead we rely on a Savior to rescue us from our own human nature.
How could God despise us, punish us, separate us from divinity because of our humanity?
We are weak and foolish, and we all have the capacity to be very cruel.
Or is it just me?
But this is who we are. These are the limits we face, our own glass ceiling as we gaze heavenward.
But it's awfully convenient to be human, don't you think?
We have no responsibilities to fulfill our own divine nature. Jesus did it for us.
But suppose we all have this capacity to access God within us?
Not because of our own massive human egos. But because if we can somehow get past them, these egos that strangle us in the binds of self-loathing, religious guilt, insecurity and pride, then we can see what has been here all along, throughout time, patiently waiting.
God.
I say "only," but don't we all search for this?
No?
Of course we do not. Instead we rely on a Savior to rescue us from our own human nature.
How could God despise us, punish us, separate us from divinity because of our humanity?
We are weak and foolish, and we all have the capacity to be very cruel.
Or is it just me?
But this is who we are. These are the limits we face, our own glass ceiling as we gaze heavenward.
But it's awfully convenient to be human, don't you think?
We have no responsibilities to fulfill our own divine nature. Jesus did it for us.
But suppose we all have this capacity to access God within us?
Not because of our own massive human egos. But because if we can somehow get past them, these egos that strangle us in the binds of self-loathing, religious guilt, insecurity and pride, then we can see what has been here all along, throughout time, patiently waiting.
God.
what does this mean?
Recently a friend mentioned that the Apostles' Creed no longer means what it once did.
A few days later I had a dream:
I was in a church, maybe even the one I used to know. And I rose with my peers to recite a creed, some collection of words written centuries ago to express dogmatic ideals.
Yet in this dream, I knew the words but could not speak. And suddenly the familiar words became something new. Still English, but I could not make sense of the phrases echoing around me.
Meaningless.
After a few sentences, the stoic mumbles of the crowd grew quiet and I could only hear one voice. It was the voice of a man I did not know.
A man, certainty echoing in his voice as he spoke these words of truth.
These meaningless words.
A few days later I had a dream:
I was in a church, maybe even the one I used to know. And I rose with my peers to recite a creed, some collection of words written centuries ago to express dogmatic ideals.
Yet in this dream, I knew the words but could not speak. And suddenly the familiar words became something new. Still English, but I could not make sense of the phrases echoing around me.
Meaningless.
After a few sentences, the stoic mumbles of the crowd grew quiet and I could only hear one voice. It was the voice of a man I did not know.
A man, certainty echoing in his voice as he spoke these words of truth.
These meaningless words.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
IT'S HERE!!
E-day has arrived. Soon I will sleep, I hope, and I will awaken to a fresh morning full of possibilities.
I will ask people to vote, of course, all day.
Tomorrow night I will cry, but it will be good, I do believe.
I will ask people to vote, of course, all day.
Tomorrow night I will cry, but it will be good, I do believe.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Barack'in Mizzou
Hey! E-day is almost here! I traveled to Mizzou's campus in Columbia to hear Barack speak on Thursday. I plan to canvass for much of the weekend, taking a breather on Saturday evening ... to hear Barack speak in Springfield.
I think he loves Missouri more than I do.
Monday, October 27, 2008
are you writing this stuff down?
I can't believe how often people ask me if I'm writing anything these days.
Well, sometimes, I say. No columns or news articles anymore. But a little bit for me. I'll spend 15 minutes writing furiously (quite literally) on my laptop. I keep a sweet hardbound journal on my bedside table to chart my dreams, and I carry a little notebook around when I think of it.
And maybe that's okay for now.
But I do read a lot. And lately I find myself responding in the same way:
Why aren't there women writing like this?
And if I do stumble upon some brilliant prose by a woman, I try to mold their insights into mine. Or maybe the other way around.
I think that says quite a lot. I think I am saying quite a lot. I think I need to speak up.
Well, sometimes, I say. No columns or news articles anymore. But a little bit for me. I'll spend 15 minutes writing furiously (quite literally) on my laptop. I keep a sweet hardbound journal on my bedside table to chart my dreams, and I carry a little notebook around when I think of it.
And maybe that's okay for now.
But I do read a lot. And lately I find myself responding in the same way:
Why aren't there women writing like this?
And if I do stumble upon some brilliant prose by a woman, I try to mold their insights into mine. Or maybe the other way around.
I think that says quite a lot. I think I am saying quite a lot. I think I need to speak up.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
the winding road
So, I grew up in the Bible Belt.
I was an angry child.
It's true. I was angry at liberals, gays, Bill Clinton, abortion rights activists (any kind of activists, really).
Not just angry, but enraged!
But sometimes my feelings shifted from fury to some kind of somber, world-weary disappointment with the slippery slope. Oh, the slippery slope upon which we now tread!
I'm pretty sure Sarah Palin's base lives right here.
I didn't expect to change my theology. After all, I used to be right all the time.
But now, for example, I don't really believe in hell, as in the lake of burning sulphur and all that.
It's just not fair.
Humans can't be perfect. So, as the story goes, God sighs with impatience and sends a perfect being to die in their place. But only those who believe it are saved from eternal damnation.
Or, perhaps God sighs with love and frantically comes up with some way to save people from the very system God created.
Are Christians the only chosen ones, the benefactors of God's so-called unconditional love?
I don't think so. Because how can love be considered unconditional if it demands a response!
Yes, demands. Either love me and live forever, or reject my love and suffer forever.
God sounds like an abusive boyfriend.
It's pretty easy to control people when you put the fear of God into them. Give them something to hate, something to dominate, some absolutes and call it faith.
Have mercy.
I feel some empathy with the blessedly dwindling religious right. Because I remember how alarmed I felt when my black and white (mostly white) world view was threatened.
I felt anxious without absolutes. Especially about female ordination. Because to some people it's God's plan that women should not preach or teach men. I was content to let Paul speak for me by silencing me.
There was just one problem.
I began to feel uneasy. Just a little bit unsure.
I was 13, the Confirmation Queen, when I asked my pastor why women couldn't do what he did. And he laughed and gave me a tract.
I laughed, too.
Unfortunately for me, I also felt nudged and prodded to get out. I finally did at 20.
It wasn't easy. But that was more than four years ago.
When you're a kid, though, you take things to heart. At least, I did. And I learned that this masculine God, represented by male pastors and elders, could not love me, a girl, as much as he loved my brothers.
I really don't have any patience for this.
When I think about it, my throat closes up. I lose my voice.
What a horrible distortion. Don't you think?
It is hard to give "God" a chance.
Unless God is completely different than what this church teaches.
This would be good news.
I don't believe Jesus came to bear the burden of the sins of all humanity. Instead, perhaps he stopped by to show us how we too might find God within. Not because of the ego, but in spite of it.
Isn't it rather arrogant to berate ourselves for being human? How then could we possible extend love to others?
God must be present in everything or nothing. So then, thinking positively, why not the earth, the stars and wind and rain?
Why not in the quiet?
Why not in the questions. Not in the answers. But in the space to ask.
In other words, in wonder.
Maybe I am finding an oasis in the desert. It's very quiet here.
I hesitate to discuss this process, to defend it somehow.
And yet ... I hear it so rarely, my inner voice.
God's.
I was an angry child.
It's true. I was angry at liberals, gays, Bill Clinton, abortion rights activists (any kind of activists, really).
Not just angry, but enraged!
But sometimes my feelings shifted from fury to some kind of somber, world-weary disappointment with the slippery slope. Oh, the slippery slope upon which we now tread!
I'm pretty sure Sarah Palin's base lives right here.
I didn't expect to change my theology. After all, I used to be right all the time.
But now, for example, I don't really believe in hell, as in the lake of burning sulphur and all that.
It's just not fair.
Humans can't be perfect. So, as the story goes, God sighs with impatience and sends a perfect being to die in their place. But only those who believe it are saved from eternal damnation.
Or, perhaps God sighs with love and frantically comes up with some way to save people from the very system God created.
Are Christians the only chosen ones, the benefactors of God's so-called unconditional love?
I don't think so. Because how can love be considered unconditional if it demands a response!
Yes, demands. Either love me and live forever, or reject my love and suffer forever.
God sounds like an abusive boyfriend.
It's pretty easy to control people when you put the fear of God into them. Give them something to hate, something to dominate, some absolutes and call it faith.
Have mercy.
I feel some empathy with the blessedly dwindling religious right. Because I remember how alarmed I felt when my black and white (mostly white) world view was threatened.
I felt anxious without absolutes. Especially about female ordination. Because to some people it's God's plan that women should not preach or teach men. I was content to let Paul speak for me by silencing me.
There was just one problem.
I began to feel uneasy. Just a little bit unsure.
I was 13, the Confirmation Queen, when I asked my pastor why women couldn't do what he did. And he laughed and gave me a tract.
I laughed, too.
Unfortunately for me, I also felt nudged and prodded to get out. I finally did at 20.
It wasn't easy. But that was more than four years ago.
When you're a kid, though, you take things to heart. At least, I did. And I learned that this masculine God, represented by male pastors and elders, could not love me, a girl, as much as he loved my brothers.
I really don't have any patience for this.
When I think about it, my throat closes up. I lose my voice.
What a horrible distortion. Don't you think?
It is hard to give "God" a chance.
Unless God is completely different than what this church teaches.
This would be good news.
I don't believe Jesus came to bear the burden of the sins of all humanity. Instead, perhaps he stopped by to show us how we too might find God within. Not because of the ego, but in spite of it.
Isn't it rather arrogant to berate ourselves for being human? How then could we possible extend love to others?
God must be present in everything or nothing. So then, thinking positively, why not the earth, the stars and wind and rain?
Why not in the quiet?
Why not in the questions. Not in the answers. But in the space to ask.
In other words, in wonder.
Maybe I am finding an oasis in the desert. It's very quiet here.
I hesitate to discuss this process, to defend it somehow.
And yet ... I hear it so rarely, my inner voice.
God's.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Take your pic ...
What's this? Some long-lost Holden and Taizé pics at www.flickr.com/mary_el. Go look!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
ESPN Magazine, NO!
Oklahoma State 28
Missouri 23
Of course I'm on the bandwagon. I remember when the Tigers were on the tearful end of humiliating defeats every single week. For years! Oh, I remember.
Times have changed.
After beating the usual no-name non-conference opponents, they destroyed the Huskers in Nebraska.
52-17.
Oh, the Huskers. I remember how that heartless heartland team (with a future Republican congressman for a coach, no less) ran up the score on Mizzou for years. Except that one time. We won't talk about that. 1997.
It's a little different now.
A number 3 ranking. Okay. I can work with that.
A Heisman frontrunner for a QB. He's the guy in the front on the magazine cover.
I'm getting spoiled.
Chase Daniel, you shouldn't have.
No, really.
You shouldn't have ...
Thrown 3 interceptions, including one with a minute and a half to go! NO!
My bitter heart says Mizzou has no business losing to OSU at home.
But allow me to take a breath.
It could be that OSU is better than I thought. They'll likely crawl into the Top 10 with this upset, a nice leap from #17.
It could be that Mizzou is mediocre, a far cry from the contendahs I envisioned.
I remember when every other team was intimidating.
It doesn't work that way anymore.
Did someone forget?
Thursday, October 9, 2008
sinners in the hands of an angry karl rove
I like this guy. But he's not the savior of the free world.
You want to talk about carrying massive debt on your shoulders.
The thing is, we already know what it's like to have a president with a Messiah complex.
So, looking ahead. John McCain. Probably not a bad guy. A maverick? Maverick, um ... like in that 90s Mel Gibson movie? A cowboy in the White House. Yeah. That sounds awesome.
Speaking of anti-Semitism.
I think it would be okay to talk about the United States' "strong alliance" with Israel without launching into campaign spiels about a second Holocaust. Come on. And if I may be so bold, we don't seem too terribly concerned with global genocide as a whole, do we?
Just, you know, in the interest of fairness and justice and the whole city on the hill idea.
Get behind me Sarah.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
is this thing still going on?
I only caught the last 20 minutes of the debate. A wicked bout with food poisoning makes following the news nauseating.
Ahem.
Ahem.
Monday, September 29, 2008
the $700 billion question
Honestly, I don't really understand how it works.
I know only what I remember from high school economics, with a horrible teacher who tested us on cut lines underneath photographs in the textbook.
However, I have lived in America off and on for the past 8 years. And the works of George W. Bush do nothing to inspire confidence in me.
I'm not saying this is his fault. (Could someone tell me what the hell is going on?)
I don't own a house or a car or a retirement fund.
All I know about global economics is that my dollar has gotten progressively weaker. My hours spent toiling under the sun account for far less while traipsing through cobblestone streets in Europe. And it makes me mad. (Especially since road tripping to the great West isn't much cheaper these days.)
I know. I'm fine. No debt, good credit, semi-steady work and even health insurance!
Until January.
I don't know. $700 billion? At least? Maybe we the taxpayers will recoup on "our" investment (wow, Congress acts fast sometimes). But how is the morale of the American people? Did anyone ask us?
I know, we're supposed to be strong! We're supposed to pretend like we don't have feelings. We're supposed to criticize people who need a hand instead of admitting how frightened we are that it could be us. We're supposed to buy more stuff to hide in our storage closets. Pride! Self-reliance! Independence!
Except, to be honest, I am American. And I don't like trying to do everything myself. I don't like the prospect of working 60 or 70 hours a week to get ahead. I don't like the fact that many people work those hours just to get by. I don't feel particularly motivated by the prospect of 10 days of vacation a year.
So here I am, transitioning to God knows what, and I don't want to be burdened by excessive stuff.
So I have been decluttering.
Someone (sometimes me) has spent thousands and thousands of dollars to provide me with all the comforts of American society.
I feel a little bit embarrassed. Really, only 4 or 5, or 6, boxes left, including clothes. Um. Want to buy some music? Nick Carter? (Come on, we all have our vices. It was on sale! I was lonely!)
Still. Thinking ahead.
I don't want a cookie-cutter house on a golf course in the suburbs. I don't want to trade my time for trinkets and televisions that pacify my distress at working a meaningless, if well-paid, job.
Have you noticed that there is always, always, always a cooler, cheaper digital camera to be found? Sometimes a week after you bought yours?
I don't like buying stuff, really, except plane tickets. I don't like selling stuff (unless it's to fund an afternoon traipsing across those cobblestones).
You know what I like?
I like being with people and thinking, "How fortunate we are to meet in this one moment in time. Isn't this amazing?"
So how does that work? How can I actually fund my life?
Writing?
Do I even like writing?
So many people say I'm good at it. I think they like what I say as much as how I say it.
But still ... I worry ... Ssshh - I know I don't need to care what others think - what's this; my throat chakra is closing up? I like the collective, but why collect the echoes of secondhand opinions when I have so much to say?
Sometimes.
I know only what I remember from high school economics, with a horrible teacher who tested us on cut lines underneath photographs in the textbook.
However, I have lived in America off and on for the past 8 years. And the works of George W. Bush do nothing to inspire confidence in me.
I'm not saying this is his fault. (Could someone tell me what the hell is going on?)
I don't own a house or a car or a retirement fund.
All I know about global economics is that my dollar has gotten progressively weaker. My hours spent toiling under the sun account for far less while traipsing through cobblestone streets in Europe. And it makes me mad. (Especially since road tripping to the great West isn't much cheaper these days.)
I know. I'm fine. No debt, good credit, semi-steady work and even health insurance!
Until January.
I don't know. $700 billion? At least? Maybe we the taxpayers will recoup on "our" investment (wow, Congress acts fast sometimes). But how is the morale of the American people? Did anyone ask us?
I know, we're supposed to be strong! We're supposed to pretend like we don't have feelings. We're supposed to criticize people who need a hand instead of admitting how frightened we are that it could be us. We're supposed to buy more stuff to hide in our storage closets. Pride! Self-reliance! Independence!
Except, to be honest, I am American. And I don't like trying to do everything myself. I don't like the prospect of working 60 or 70 hours a week to get ahead. I don't like the fact that many people work those hours just to get by. I don't feel particularly motivated by the prospect of 10 days of vacation a year.
So here I am, transitioning to God knows what, and I don't want to be burdened by excessive stuff.
So I have been decluttering.
Someone (sometimes me) has spent thousands and thousands of dollars to provide me with all the comforts of American society.
I feel a little bit embarrassed. Really, only 4 or 5, or 6, boxes left, including clothes. Um. Want to buy some music? Nick Carter? (Come on, we all have our vices. It was on sale! I was lonely!)
Still. Thinking ahead.
I don't want a cookie-cutter house on a golf course in the suburbs. I don't want to trade my time for trinkets and televisions that pacify my distress at working a meaningless, if well-paid, job.
Have you noticed that there is always, always, always a cooler, cheaper digital camera to be found? Sometimes a week after you bought yours?
I don't like buying stuff, really, except plane tickets. I don't like selling stuff (unless it's to fund an afternoon traipsing across those cobblestones).
You know what I like?
I like being with people and thinking, "How fortunate we are to meet in this one moment in time. Isn't this amazing?"
So how does that work? How can I actually fund my life?
Writing?
Do I even like writing?
So many people say I'm good at it. I think they like what I say as much as how I say it.
But still ... I worry ... Ssshh - I know I don't need to care what others think - what's this; my throat chakra is closing up? I like the collective, but why collect the echoes of secondhand opinions when I have so much to say?
Sometimes.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
LeRoi Moore, 1961-2008
Just yesterday I had a talk with a friend about entertainment. Really it is art, the kind that rattles around your soul and inspires you to breathe life into your own creative impulse. But Monday I thought about how one snippet of a song can capture my heart and hold on for so many listens that I want to back away before I get sick of it. But I just can't stop. You know how love goes.
Immediately I thought of Dave Matthews Band's "Lie In Our Graves" from that epic Red Rocks album. Dave's voice, Carter's drums, Stefan's bassline and even Boyd's electric violins fade behind LeRoi's stunning ode to the joy of sax.
Oh. My. God.
Throughout the adolescent years I listened to that solo over and over again. I could not get enough. Hear it and weep.
But love fades without attention.
In time, DMB no longer inspired me like they had when we were all younger. I had my hands full in Generation iPod, and I didn't have room in my heart for an old flame.
But today I heard that LeRoi died. It isn't news to anyone but me; online reports fade within minutes, and I was two weeks late on this story.
Still. You know how death makes everything stand still, intensifying desires for reconciliation, inspiration and gladness of heart?
That song plays on. It's echoing in my ears, spinning through my memory channels and bringing joy to my heart once again.
Thank you friend.
Immediately I thought of Dave Matthews Band's "Lie In Our Graves" from that epic Red Rocks album. Dave's voice, Carter's drums, Stefan's bassline and even Boyd's electric violins fade behind LeRoi's stunning ode to the joy of sax.
Oh. My. God.
Throughout the adolescent years I listened to that solo over and over again. I could not get enough. Hear it and weep.
But love fades without attention.
In time, DMB no longer inspired me like they had when we were all younger. I had my hands full in Generation iPod, and I didn't have room in my heart for an old flame.
But today I heard that LeRoi died. It isn't news to anyone but me; online reports fade within minutes, and I was two weeks late on this story.
Still. You know how death makes everything stand still, intensifying desires for reconciliation, inspiration and gladness of heart?
That song plays on. It's echoing in my ears, spinning through my memory channels and bringing joy to my heart once again.
Thank you friend.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Leah Kristine
In lieu of writing ... well, I did attend a birth on Saturday. My sister had her fourth child, Leah. Adorable. But of course. I know, I know - baby pics - who needs them? But still. Her brothers like her so far. (It's just hard to share.) How cute is that! My first niece!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
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