Often I do or say something and kick myself later, thinking I could have done or said it in a more aware and loving fashion. But really, without having done it the way I'd done it, would I have had the opportunity to reflect and learn from it and even be aware that there was another way to do it? Makes me think that perhaps there are no mistakes, just what is.
tall penguin
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Life...
Life is hilarious. I had just posted my last entry when my msn started blinking. It is a wonderful woman who used to be one of my ESL students many years ago. I met her because one of the women in my former Jehovah's Witness congregation ran a student home for international students. I ended up teaching this woman English and then she expressed an interest in learning about the Bible from me, so I taught her the jw version of things and she was quite interested. When I left the jw's, I had a conversation with her about my leaving and did my fear-based warning thing along with telling her about shunning and how the jw community was now treating me. That was 3 years ago and we've barely spoken much since.
So I see my msn blinking and see this young woman, my former ESL student and jw Bible student, saying hello. And then this:
"Guess what?" she says.
"What?"
"I'm studying Bible."
"Wow...with who?"
"A friend."
She asks me why I stopped believing in the Bible. And I said, "I did research on the history and saw it to be a book of stories...some beautiful stories but still stories. I don't believe that there is any god outside of the god that you already are."
I try to ask if she's studying any particular religion's view of the Bible and she evades the question. Finally, I ask...
"Is your friend a Jehovah's Witness?"
"Yes, she is."
And I smile. I saw this coming. And there was no angst. There was just love. There was this complete acceptance of her journey. She said she wants answers to her questions. I said, "well I would invite you to do some research on both the origins of the bible and the origins of the jehovah's witness movement...not from their books though...the history is not accurate...other than that I wish you well."
And that was it. We moved along to other things.
I find this interesting for a few reasons.
1. The primary charge around all the jw stuff has dissipated greatly for me. I no longer feel responsible for saving anyone from them. This woman is an adult. It is her life. She is free to choose.
2. I think people gravitate towards religion for so many different reasons. This woman wants "answers to her questions". My mother was the same. And it seems that regardless of what I say to her, she wants to find those answers within the particular box of the jw view. So be it.
3. I often wonder whether people become enamored with the person that first contacts them with a religion/cult. That family connection thing. I remember studying the Bible as a jw with a young girl, around 9 years old, and she said she wanted to be just like me when she grew up. She said she wanted to be a jw, but I think she really meant she wanted to be like me, wanted to give people the feeling I gave her, which had little to do with my being a jw. But, at her age, she could not know that. I hope she can differentiate it later in life.
I think too of my father who converted many years after my mother because of the difference he thought the religion was making in my mother's personality. Frankly, it could've been therapy or the new friends or a medication that made the difference and he probably wouldn't have jumped into those things, but somehow he thought the religion was making the difference and devoted himself to it as a result. In hindsight, I think he would admit that my mother's personality isn't all that different after all, that the religion just gave her some tools to suppress things ever deeper, and appear happier than she really was. But I digress. That's my judgment, not his.
Hahaha....this woman just popped back online saying that she's going to start studying English again too. She said, "and when I study English, I usually think about you because we had a good time when we studied English together." Wasn't that the point I was just making? Sometimes we confuse the message and messenger and accept one because we accept the other.
All very funny. Life living itself. And so it is.
tall penguin
So I see my msn blinking and see this young woman, my former ESL student and jw Bible student, saying hello. And then this:
"Guess what?" she says.
"What?"
"I'm studying Bible."
"Wow...with who?"
"A friend."
She asks me why I stopped believing in the Bible. And I said, "I did research on the history and saw it to be a book of stories...some beautiful stories but still stories. I don't believe that there is any god outside of the god that you already are."
I try to ask if she's studying any particular religion's view of the Bible and she evades the question. Finally, I ask...
"Is your friend a Jehovah's Witness?"
"Yes, she is."
And I smile. I saw this coming. And there was no angst. There was just love. There was this complete acceptance of her journey. She said she wants answers to her questions. I said, "well I would invite you to do some research on both the origins of the bible and the origins of the jehovah's witness movement...not from their books though...the history is not accurate...other than that I wish you well."
And that was it. We moved along to other things.
I find this interesting for a few reasons.
1. The primary charge around all the jw stuff has dissipated greatly for me. I no longer feel responsible for saving anyone from them. This woman is an adult. It is her life. She is free to choose.
2. I think people gravitate towards religion for so many different reasons. This woman wants "answers to her questions". My mother was the same. And it seems that regardless of what I say to her, she wants to find those answers within the particular box of the jw view. So be it.
3. I often wonder whether people become enamored with the person that first contacts them with a religion/cult. That family connection thing. I remember studying the Bible as a jw with a young girl, around 9 years old, and she said she wanted to be just like me when she grew up. She said she wanted to be a jw, but I think she really meant she wanted to be like me, wanted to give people the feeling I gave her, which had little to do with my being a jw. But, at her age, she could not know that. I hope she can differentiate it later in life.
I think too of my father who converted many years after my mother because of the difference he thought the religion was making in my mother's personality. Frankly, it could've been therapy or the new friends or a medication that made the difference and he probably wouldn't have jumped into those things, but somehow he thought the religion was making the difference and devoted himself to it as a result. In hindsight, I think he would admit that my mother's personality isn't all that different after all, that the religion just gave her some tools to suppress things ever deeper, and appear happier than she really was. But I digress. That's my judgment, not his.
Hahaha....this woman just popped back online saying that she's going to start studying English again too. She said, "and when I study English, I usually think about you because we had a good time when we studied English together." Wasn't that the point I was just making? Sometimes we confuse the message and messenger and accept one because we accept the other.
All very funny. Life living itself. And so it is.
tall penguin
All are one...
It's been awhile. And I've missed you all. I think of you all often, wonder what's unfolding in your lives and send love and light into the ether trusting it will touch you with a smile at just the right time. It's this amazing thing that is beginning to emerge ever fully in my soul, a sense of connectedness, a recognition of the oneness that is. The Romper Room of my heart, I like to call it. I can look in there and see all these names and faces and spirits that surround me. Namaste.
I cannot even begin to recount the events of recent weeks. The details are meaningful and meaningless. Places, people, events, feelings, thoughts...so much and so little. A simplicity is taking me over of late, a detachment from the drama of life. Yes, there is still drama. It is life living itself. But now, I watch it like I'm watching a movie. I see this entity I call me interacting with the other called you, and I watch the story that unfolds between us. And none of it matters. And all of it matters. It is what it is.
I have moments of spontaneous laughter, a joy so pure that comes from a place within my soul that I can only describe as Truth. It is the stillness that connects us all, the quiet place where all is. And I am in awe of this place. I am in awe of Truth. I am in awe of Love. I am in awe of the Beloved. I am in awe of the Divine.
People keep asking me if I'm in love. I say, "Yes, I'm in love with life." And I am. Every little bit of life, living itself out every second of every minute of every day. It is here. It is now. It is.
tall penguin
I cannot even begin to recount the events of recent weeks. The details are meaningful and meaningless. Places, people, events, feelings, thoughts...so much and so little. A simplicity is taking me over of late, a detachment from the drama of life. Yes, there is still drama. It is life living itself. But now, I watch it like I'm watching a movie. I see this entity I call me interacting with the other called you, and I watch the story that unfolds between us. And none of it matters. And all of it matters. It is what it is.
I have moments of spontaneous laughter, a joy so pure that comes from a place within my soul that I can only describe as Truth. It is the stillness that connects us all, the quiet place where all is. And I am in awe of this place. I am in awe of Truth. I am in awe of Love. I am in awe of the Beloved. I am in awe of the Divine.
People keep asking me if I'm in love. I say, "Yes, I'm in love with life." And I am. Every little bit of life, living itself out every second of every minute of every day. It is here. It is now. It is.
tall penguin
Saturday, August 9, 2008
To Name a Rose
"A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet."
Playing around with the most fundamental piece of my identity, my name, is an interesting journey. I am amazed at both the acceptance and resistance I've met to the idea. While some have been quick to make the change and honor what it symbolizes, others are confused as to why I'd change my name, why it matters or just really can't see me other than by the name they've previously called me. And it's all good. I have given people permission to call me what they feel they want to call me, at least during this great transition period. In time, I think the new name will stick and it will become as natural as any other name I've been called over the years.
As many of you have watched the unfolding of the tall penguin over the past year, you have witnessed many changes to my thoughts, feelings, and behavior. I am amazed to find people placing me into new boxes, labeling me with new judgments and creating new files for who they think I am. The terms "hippie", "raver", "party girl", "goddess", "writer", "mother hen", "fag hag" and even (never thought I'd get to wear this one) "slut" have been applied to me in recent months. It always makes me smile to hear how someone perceives me. I sometimes play with this, giving people just enough information to make a judgment and find that they will only interpret me according to the information given at the time in that particular context. We all do this. It's human nature. But it's fascinating to watch.
So who are we? What defines who you are? Is it what you do? But that changes. Are you defined by what you did yesterday, are doing today or what you will do tomorrow? Is it your beliefs? They change too. What about your thoughts or feelings...are they a basis for defining you? Alas, these are the most changeable aspects of who we are. Passing blips on the cerebral radar. When all this falls away, who are you really? Is there some unchangeable part of you that always is? Is it possible to meet each other in that place, in that place beyond language and labels and judgment and doing and thinking and feeling? Is it ever possible for me to really be with you? Or are we to be forever caught in relating to the changeable, to the ever-malleable personas we create for ourselves and others?
I long to lead an authentic life. I long to touch that part of you that is the same as that part of me. To sit with all that is. To be. Just to be.
tall penguin
Playing around with the most fundamental piece of my identity, my name, is an interesting journey. I am amazed at both the acceptance and resistance I've met to the idea. While some have been quick to make the change and honor what it symbolizes, others are confused as to why I'd change my name, why it matters or just really can't see me other than by the name they've previously called me. And it's all good. I have given people permission to call me what they feel they want to call me, at least during this great transition period. In time, I think the new name will stick and it will become as natural as any other name I've been called over the years.
As many of you have watched the unfolding of the tall penguin over the past year, you have witnessed many changes to my thoughts, feelings, and behavior. I am amazed to find people placing me into new boxes, labeling me with new judgments and creating new files for who they think I am. The terms "hippie", "raver", "party girl", "goddess", "writer", "mother hen", "fag hag" and even (never thought I'd get to wear this one) "slut" have been applied to me in recent months. It always makes me smile to hear how someone perceives me. I sometimes play with this, giving people just enough information to make a judgment and find that they will only interpret me according to the information given at the time in that particular context. We all do this. It's human nature. But it's fascinating to watch.
So who are we? What defines who you are? Is it what you do? But that changes. Are you defined by what you did yesterday, are doing today or what you will do tomorrow? Is it your beliefs? They change too. What about your thoughts or feelings...are they a basis for defining you? Alas, these are the most changeable aspects of who we are. Passing blips on the cerebral radar. When all this falls away, who are you really? Is there some unchangeable part of you that always is? Is it possible to meet each other in that place, in that place beyond language and labels and judgment and doing and thinking and feeling? Is it ever possible for me to really be with you? Or are we to be forever caught in relating to the changeable, to the ever-malleable personas we create for ourselves and others?
I long to lead an authentic life. I long to touch that part of you that is the same as that part of me. To sit with all that is. To be. Just to be.
tall penguin
Friday, August 8, 2008
The Winds of Change...
I feel the winds gathering their momentum. I feel ready to leave this city, to leave the place of my birth and move beyond all that I've ever known. As Anya gathers strength, I feel compelled to get on a plane and not look back. I do not know where I will go or what I will do once I'm there, I just know it is coming time for me to leave. And it's okay. It's all okay.
tall penguin
tall penguin
Thursday, August 7, 2008
End of an Era
The ex-Jehovah's Witness forum I've frequented since leaving the group almost 3 years ago is shutting down. It has been in existence for 8 years now and helped thousands see the truth about the Jehovah's Witness organization, as well as provide those leaving a safe place to fall and get their bearings as they enter the "real world".
I'm not even sure how I feel right now. I have made so many friends through this forum and although I have not been there as much over the past year, it is still the community that I go to when I'm processing JW stuff that no one else will understand. And so, there is a sadness in my heart today. A sadness that I can't even put into words. Accepting cyber hugs.
tall penguin
I'm not even sure how I feel right now. I have made so many friends through this forum and although I have not been there as much over the past year, it is still the community that I go to when I'm processing JW stuff that no one else will understand. And so, there is a sadness in my heart today. A sadness that I can't even put into words. Accepting cyber hugs.
tall penguin
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Shame and Surrender...
One day some years ago, my brother and I were reading the daily Calvin and Hobbes comic and came across this interlude. Not sure of the exact scenario, but Calvin's mother, aka "evil Mom-lady," is trying to get Calvin to do something he quite obviously doesn't want to do and he protests accordingly.
Mom: Oh yeah?
Calvin: Great Zok! She's fixed her mind-scrambling eyeball ray on me! I'm suddenly filled with the desire to go back upstairs and do her nefarious bidding!
Mom: Glad to hear it.
My brother and I laughed. We had our own "evil Mom-lady" and could quite relate. After that, we coined our mother and her accompanying paternal stare, the "Evil Mommy death ray." We knew that stare well. Every mother has it and wields it as her personal tool of compliance. You could see that stare across the room and know that if you didn't stop whatever you were doing, or if you didn't do something you were just asked to do, there'd be hell to pay later. Interestingly, although I have no children of my own yet, I have been told that I have mastered this stare quite well. I had a good teacher.
There was another stare my mother had that would sometimes overlap the "Evil Mommy death ray." Or rather, that would underlie it. There was this undercurrent of shame, this sense that not only was your behavior inappropriate, but it was also disappointing. That feeling of "You should know better." And yes, there are definitely situations in life where my brother and I should've known better. Everyday mischief prevails in the life of a child and you're often caught doing stuff you know you're not supposed to be doing. But somewhere along the way, that feeling of being shamed and that sense that I was supposed to know better became intrinsically linked and showed up in my mother's glance in almost every situation where I disappointed her, whether such disappointment was warranted or not.
In the past, I was told by my teachers that I was a perfectionist. My therapists said so too. But I don't think I want to be perfect. I think I have tried my whole life to get everything right to avoid that feeling of shame. I'm not a perfectionist. I'm a shame avoider. I like to get it right the first time because I don't like someone bringing to my attention that I got it wrong and the accompanying shame I feel as a result. The tape that plays and says, "You're a disappointment. You should have known better", and the accompanying "evil Mommy death ray" burning a hole right through my psyche.
A loyal reader sent along this article to me written by Sara Braasch, who, like myself, was raised in the Jehovah's Witness group. She now works for the Freedom From Religion Foundation. I bristled against reading it. And ended up skimming the article rather than giving it my full attention. I felt this urge to tiptoe away from it, like a murderer from a crime scene, not wanting to be associated with the ghastly deed in any way. Why? Shame. Sara's story is my story. It's the story of someone who became a zealot for her beliefs and made a heap-load of bad choices as a result. And my stomach turns just thinking of how completely idiotic I was, how completely sanctimonious I behaved and how utterly misguided I had become as a result of my "faith".
She writes:
I was arrogant and supercilious in my misery. I thought I had a truth that no one else had. Everyone else was a sinner. Everyone else was a reprobate. I even remonstrated against my own parents for their sinful ways. When my father tried to take me, along with my siblings, to see the movie “Splash,” I cried and screamed and refused to go, because Daryl Hannah appeared topless in the film. In fact, I made him turn the car around and take me home.
I did shit like this all the time as a jw. And I feel shame about it. I feel shame around my ignorance. I feel a great colossal finger wagging in my direction shouting, "I'm disappointed in you. You should've known better." But how? How was I supposed to know better? I did what I was told. I lived what I saw modeled for me. I walked in the footsteps of parents and an organization that mirrored fear and distrust and self-loathing. I learned well. Too well.
Now that I'm an adult I've made different choices. And I am still learning each day to make different choices. But it's hard people. Every day it's hard. There are still so many moments where I stop and think "What the fuck am I doing?" And I feel the Evil Mommy death ray pointed squarely between my eyes. And the shame wells up like a million butterflies trying to escape through my chest. And I kick myself for not knowing better, for not knowing what to do next, for not having all the answers, now. And I wonder if it will always be this way. Whether the shame will ever subside. Whether I'll ever be able to stand proudly in the center of my life and shout at the top of my lungs: "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING AND IT'S OKAY." Some people call that surrender. I think I'll like surrender.
tall penguin
Mom: Oh yeah?
Calvin: Great Zok! She's fixed her mind-scrambling eyeball ray on me! I'm suddenly filled with the desire to go back upstairs and do her nefarious bidding!
Mom: Glad to hear it.
My brother and I laughed. We had our own "evil Mom-lady" and could quite relate. After that, we coined our mother and her accompanying paternal stare, the "Evil Mommy death ray." We knew that stare well. Every mother has it and wields it as her personal tool of compliance. You could see that stare across the room and know that if you didn't stop whatever you were doing, or if you didn't do something you were just asked to do, there'd be hell to pay later. Interestingly, although I have no children of my own yet, I have been told that I have mastered this stare quite well. I had a good teacher.
There was another stare my mother had that would sometimes overlap the "Evil Mommy death ray." Or rather, that would underlie it. There was this undercurrent of shame, this sense that not only was your behavior inappropriate, but it was also disappointing. That feeling of "You should know better." And yes, there are definitely situations in life where my brother and I should've known better. Everyday mischief prevails in the life of a child and you're often caught doing stuff you know you're not supposed to be doing. But somewhere along the way, that feeling of being shamed and that sense that I was supposed to know better became intrinsically linked and showed up in my mother's glance in almost every situation where I disappointed her, whether such disappointment was warranted or not.
In the past, I was told by my teachers that I was a perfectionist. My therapists said so too. But I don't think I want to be perfect. I think I have tried my whole life to get everything right to avoid that feeling of shame. I'm not a perfectionist. I'm a shame avoider. I like to get it right the first time because I don't like someone bringing to my attention that I got it wrong and the accompanying shame I feel as a result. The tape that plays and says, "You're a disappointment. You should have known better", and the accompanying "evil Mommy death ray" burning a hole right through my psyche.
A loyal reader sent along this article to me written by Sara Braasch, who, like myself, was raised in the Jehovah's Witness group. She now works for the Freedom From Religion Foundation. I bristled against reading it. And ended up skimming the article rather than giving it my full attention. I felt this urge to tiptoe away from it, like a murderer from a crime scene, not wanting to be associated with the ghastly deed in any way. Why? Shame. Sara's story is my story. It's the story of someone who became a zealot for her beliefs and made a heap-load of bad choices as a result. And my stomach turns just thinking of how completely idiotic I was, how completely sanctimonious I behaved and how utterly misguided I had become as a result of my "faith".
She writes:
I was arrogant and supercilious in my misery. I thought I had a truth that no one else had. Everyone else was a sinner. Everyone else was a reprobate. I even remonstrated against my own parents for their sinful ways. When my father tried to take me, along with my siblings, to see the movie “Splash,” I cried and screamed and refused to go, because Daryl Hannah appeared topless in the film. In fact, I made him turn the car around and take me home.
I did shit like this all the time as a jw. And I feel shame about it. I feel shame around my ignorance. I feel a great colossal finger wagging in my direction shouting, "I'm disappointed in you. You should've known better." But how? How was I supposed to know better? I did what I was told. I lived what I saw modeled for me. I walked in the footsteps of parents and an organization that mirrored fear and distrust and self-loathing. I learned well. Too well.
Now that I'm an adult I've made different choices. And I am still learning each day to make different choices. But it's hard people. Every day it's hard. There are still so many moments where I stop and think "What the fuck am I doing?" And I feel the Evil Mommy death ray pointed squarely between my eyes. And the shame wells up like a million butterflies trying to escape through my chest. And I kick myself for not knowing better, for not knowing what to do next, for not having all the answers, now. And I wonder if it will always be this way. Whether the shame will ever subside. Whether I'll ever be able to stand proudly in the center of my life and shout at the top of my lungs: "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING AND IT'S OKAY." Some people call that surrender. I think I'll like surrender.
tall penguin
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