The god thing

From the continuing conversation in an online group about life philosphies/religion/spiritual paths — one person there says stuff about religion, especially the organized varieties thereof, that could almost have come from my mouth, with one interesting difference: she is an atheist; I am not.

Or at least I use the word “god” — what’s that all about? This is what I wrote there.

Though I believe in god, I think the way I believe in it is pretty much on par with what many self-defined atheists & agnostics say. god (lower case g) isn’t to me some transcendent Boss of Bosses: my definition is, god = the universe & everything in it, whether we understand it or not. god is one with all that is, has been, will be, not separate or “superior” to us. We’re all just part of it. Is there an afterlife? Beats me. Will we be judged? I doubt it — except in the moment-to-moment of life when we’re judged by ourselves & each other. If justice comes from god, it comes not from some Big Guy in the Sky, but from ourselves & how we treat ourselves & one another.

I’ve got the same issues with organized religion that many atheists & agnostics do. Maybe the only difference between their fundamental perspective & mine is that they see the wonder & incredibleness of the universe & world & all that’s in it & don’t feel need to call that anything in particular, whereas I apply the name “god” to it. But with a lower-case g because god is as common as rock, as common as a molecule of oxygen, as common as anything.

Why is it that I want to use that word? What does it do for me? I guess because in part it points toward the mystery. god is common, just really the fabric of the universe, but it’s also mystery… we don’t know whether we call ourselves atheists or agnostics or Christians or Jews or Muslims or Buddhists or any of the other “ist” & “ism” names how all this works. Any time science learns how to “explain,” answers a question, it gives rise to umpteen further question: there is no end to them because we, just tiny motes of what-god-is, can’t fit any more into our understanding than what we can fit into our thoughts, our speech, our books. As my calculus tutor used to explain, no system can contain a metasystem. No matter how much we understand, there will always be Mystery beyond that. Which is why, I think, people who are wise are also people with humility: however much they know, they are aware how very little that really is.

Somehow, for me, using that word god keeps me mindful about all that. But I don’t think one must use that word to be conscious of it.

I believe that there are as many paths as there are people to follow them — whether “religious” or not. But I often find people who say being so “accepting” of other people’s different paths that they let them get away with all manner of evil. “They were only following their path.” “All perspectives are equally valid.” Bullshit.

The fundamental judgment I make of people, including myself, is not whether they follow a particular religion, or any religion at all, but whether the things they do & say cause harm. The most simple, most profound, & most succint statement of ethics & spirit that I’ve ever heard came from the neopagan movement: Harming none, do as you will. But if doing your will causes harm, then damn right I’m gonna judge you for it. And feel that your path sucks the big one. And maybe hate you for it too.

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Tramping in the woods

Just in case my earlier bike jaunt wasn’t enough exercise for the day, we packed me, Rozz, Jesse, Jesse’s dog Sweetheart, & Jesse’s bike (unnamed) into the car & drove out to our old neighborhood in East Anchorage at the very edge of Ft. Richardson Military Reservation, where we went for a walk.

The trail wasn’t very good for biking: very muddy. But that was more Jesse’s problem than ours, though we did have to take a lot of side trips into the brush to avoid soaking our feet.

But don’t call them side trips. They became ends in themselves.

Consider that it’s just barely spring here, but most of the trees haven’t even budded out in leaves yet, pussywillows but no flowers. To a certain cast of eye, the forest is dead & dreary — little color to it but brown & grey, dead leaves crackling underfoot, the trail in a mush of mud & brown puddles.

But look again, & there is so much green: the dark green of black spruce needles, the brighter greens of moss & juniper moss & creeping jenny & club moss carpeting the floor. But what I noticed most this trip was the lichen: all kinds of lichen, & lucky for me my camera takes damn good macros. I took a lot of them.

I gather Jesse rode his bike to the powerline & followed it left as far as it goes before that steep drop to the little tributary creek, then came back, & took a little nap waiting for us. But Rozz was investigating things her way, & I was investigating them mine, with the camera, so by the time we got to the powerline we didn’t have much more than time enough to take a look at the wolf scat Jesse had found, fibrous with moose hair, & then head back. (Normally, we have no deadline for a jaunt like this, but we needed to get some groceries at Natural Pantry before the closed at 8:00.)

We all cut through the woods through most of the walk back to the trailhead, Jesse pushing his bike along. He found a really cool cottonwood tree that I was called over to see: a huge thick grandma (or grandpa, didn’t check its sex) of a tree that sometime in its youth had for some reason dipped its trunk downwards, toward the ground, missing it by a foot or so before it grew upwards again.

This was our first trample in the Ft. Rich woods this year. It’s good to go there, every time. I miss living so close that it’s just a step out the door & a walk across the parking lot.

And then we went & got our groceries, & then we stopped by Blockbuster & got some DVDs, & then we went home & watched them.

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Winner


Deb had a surprise for me when I came in to Side Street today after missing three or four weeks: I’d won a coffee card — the second time in my 12-year history of patronizing Side Street that mine was the lucky used card drawn.

Good thing too, because I needed a new one.

So I bought myself a cup of pomegranate tea & opened my bike pack to get out my writing stuff, & worked.

Yep, I did. Not for really long, because I got there pretty late, but I did get some done — mainly working my way through some of the Ophelia stuff in MoW & working out what the problem was/is that I’ve got to fix.

Oh gee, I haven’t written about MoW on this blog before, have I? Okay, well I will, but not now. Meantime, I’ve got a web page about it, after the full title of the work: Mistress of Woodland.

Good to get back in & work at my favorite place.

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Biker dyke in the making

Took the bike up today to Side Street for writing. Instead of taking the steep hill up E Street to get downtown, I took the bike trail towards Westchester Lagoon and cut right to take the more gradual climb along a bike trail that curves around the hill next to where L Street comes down & turns into Minnesota — that trail eventually runs out & connects up with the sidewalk along 15th Avenue. Didn’t quite make it all the way up the hill before I had to dismount — huffing & puffing — but hey, I’m sure it got my metabolism moving. When I got my breath back, I had a ride on the flat the rest of the way to G Street & my favorite writing venue.

Can’t say I got a huge amount of writing done, though Deb (co-owner of Side Street with her husband George) complimented me again on my haircut — she says the very short hair softens my features. Spent some time looking through Mountain Bike Anchorage again, to check out what trails might be suitable for my level of fitness & biking expertise, & which trails I’d be better doing afoot. Then I did do a bit of writing work (will cover that in Field of Words), before Side Street closed at 3:00.

I rode my bike down to Elderberry Park, ate my lunch, & then took the coastal trail back down to Westchester Lagoon. This gave me a little more of metabolic boost because that stretch of the coastal trail has a few shallow hills. Stopped a few times for pics, more of which can be seen in my On the bike set on Flickr. And then home.

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Along the bike trail


Took the Chester Creek trail home — an easier ride homeward than workward because there’s more downhill, less uphill. And I can take my time. So I did, stopping along the way to take a few photos.

Still a lot of overflow from meltwater onto the bike trail at a couple of points, as shown here. Which is one reason I’ve been taking the street route on the way to work: at that time of morning, this overflow would be ice, something I prefer not to ride on. The culvert tunnel under the Seward Highway still has a lot of ice too.

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Raven in flight


A lucky shot: I have historically had one heckuva hard time getting good photos of ravens in flight.

I’ve noticed that the ravens don’t seem to be leaving town very quickly this year, in fact for the last couple or so years. It used to be that when the seagulls started flying in, the ravens would go; & any ravens that stuck around were likely to undergo major seagull harassment. But down in Homer I’ve noticed that the ravens, crows, & gulls all seem to coexist fairly peaceably, if not quite as friends. Maybe the ravens up here are fed up with gull attitudes, & have decided to be stubborn? I just know it’s nice to have them around. I’ve got more affection for them, than for gulls.

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Good news from the boy

He passed the reading portion of his high school exit exam! With a whopping good score, too.

He’d already passed the writing & math portions last fall, would’ve passed the reading too I think if he hadn’t forgotten he was testing that day. I was a little surprised — but very pleased — that he passed those, because he’d had problems with them when he’d done the tests before.

He’s come a long damn way from when he first arrived with us, having had so chaotic a life that his education was way behind for his age. At age 9, he couldn’t read at all, & in fact it wasn’t until he was about 13, or maybe it was 14, that he began to read independently.

Never mind that the Alaska high school exit exam requirement is a crock of shit. He passed! Now he can graduate! Yeehaw!

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Terveys: Bike day #2

Second day riding my bike the four miles to work. Read more about it at Terveys.

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Bike day #2

I just got done huffin’ & puffin’ to work, my second day on the bike. Today I did the 4 miles in 35 minutes, instead of the 40 it took on Tuesday, but believe me it’s not because I’m in better shape. I think it was the variation of route that led to fewer stoplights, slightly fewer teensy hills. [wiping sweat from beaded brow] Teensy hills, I’m telling you — except of course for the hard slog up C Street from the Chester Creek valley, part of which I had to dismount for & walk.

I look forward to when I’ll regard this bike ride as more of a pleasure, not just a workout — & I can get up C Street without dismounting, which I was able to do 5 summers ago when I first bought this bike. But I gotta say that having no choice but to keep pushing on once I’ve started because I’ve gotta get to work is a good substitute for a personal trainer. (Sometimes.)

I reckon I’ll let myself go slower on the way home, take the bike trails through the greenbelt & take some pics along the way. I already think the bike rides are breaking the rut fat loss-wise.

[wringing sweat out from sweatshirt armpits, being careful to avoid shorting out my computer keyboard by dripping on it]

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A brief spiritual history

In an online group I’m in, the topic came up of our religious/spiritual history, & how it integrates or doesn’t integrate with our sexual orientation as lesbians.

Here’s the short version, as written there (with some emendations).

1.

I was raised in the Episcopal Church (the American version of the Anglican Church), but sometime during the summer after sixth grade I found a sort of emptiness inside of myself that I knew had to do with the god thing. My sister came back from a music camp where some Jesus people stuff had been going on, & next thing you know she & I were the only two Jesus freaks in Columbia Falls, Montana. I used to read anything I could get my hands on about the Rapture, & speaking in tongues, & all kinds of evangelical stuff. I even have a picture to illustrate this 😉 — which I usually entitle “Junior high Jesus freak.”

I don’t know how I reconciled this with being a Trekkie — I was a bigtime fan of the original, & at that time only, series.)

But,

first I was a Jesus freak
& then I turned the other cheek

Which is to say, I started questioning some of the things that the evangelical Christians were saying. For example, if homosexuality was a sin, why did I see in Time magazine that some denominations were ordaining gay ministers? This was long before I came out, too. I also remember reading an article in a Jesus People newspaper from Spokane called The Truth that attempted to explain why Abraham’s wife Sarah let her husband take the kid (Isaac) up the mountain to sacrifice hiim like a goat: being a good wife, the story went, she accepted his decision because he was The Man & women always obeyed Their Man. And I thought (but in far less profane language), Fuck that shit! I’d kill Abraham before I let him kill my kid!

But the biggest question was raised by the popular Christian slogan One Way, as in, there is but one way to God, & Christianity is It. The stuff I was reading told me that if a person was a really good caring loving person who treated other people with care & respect & compassion, that person would still go to hell & suffer eternal damnation simply if she or he hadn’t accepted Jesus as her/his personal savior.

I decided that a god who would set up things this way was an immoral god, & so by the time I completed junior high, I had ceased being a Christian.

But I never ceased believing in God. Over time this became lower case g: god. Over time, after flirtations with Zen Buddhism, feminist witchcraft, Unitarian Universalism — not to mention getting a B.A. in Religion (1981) — my “confession of faith” gradually became “god is the universe & everything in it.”

I have been afflicted all my life with depression & despair, & it is what has probably shaped my spiritual journey more than anything. That’s what the hole I felt in my gut at the beginning of my “Jesus freak” period was about. My coming out & acceptance of myself as a lesbian at age 19 when I was in college was the first strong spiritual foundation that I had to deal with that: because I was accepting Who I Am, & beginning to live according to my own integrity, instead of according to arbitrary rules & regulations foisted on me by other people.

2.

The picture here takes its name from what my sister-in-law termed the aha! experience — a profound spiritual experience I underwent in August 1984, when I stopped hating myself, stopped living continually at the edge of or inside the pit of despair. It happened like this:

I had a long long battle in from about 6th grade to about age 25 with depression & despair. Thought about suicide a lot. Never did attempt it, but that’s mostly because I knew it wouldn’t be just an attempt. And because I couldn’t do that to my family. About age 25, had a spiritual experience (nothing to do with any organized religions though) that put the end to most of the self-hate, though I’ve never been completely free of the despair or occasional, & sometimes very debilitating, bouts of depression. And still, being a dyke is one of those things which gives me the greatest strength to get through it….

I had been doing a lot of stuff that year (1984) trying to deal w/ my depression/despair stuff. One thing was to get involved for a time w/ a 12-Step group (similar to AA) called Emotions Anonymous. I did a lot of writing about the first three steps, & most crucial was the stuff about “Came to believe in a power greater than ourselves that could restore our sanity” (or however that goes) & “Made a decision to turn our lives & our will over to the care of god as we understood god.”

My problem was, how can I turn my life & my will over to the care of someone I don’t flat fucking trust? Mind you, I had by that time a B.A. in Religion, knew craploads about a whole big variety of religions, was an adherent of none of them because much as I believed in god (lower-case g), which I define as “the universe & everything in it,” I didn’t trust any of the Gods that various religions put up as who I should be kowtowing to.

When they told me who to put on the throne
I said no, I will not be ruled
the gods they showed me were tyrants
who displeased me with their judgments,
their injustice, yes, their cruelty.

— from “Mielikki”

So, in short, I made up my own self-defined “religion.” I reckoned that the universe & everything in it (god) is awfully damn hard to develop a personal relationship w/, so I had to whittle it down somehow, so I “invented” a sort of big sister/helping spirit/personal guide type of “imaginary” being to act as my personal connection to the “all of the above” that is god.

I named her Mielikki, after the Finnish spirit of woodland. The name comes from the Finnish word mieli which means mind or heart or desire, plus the suffix of endearment -kki. It’s sometimes translated as darling but to me her name means my dearest desire. She is an “imaginary” being who is bigger than myself, while at once she is a part of me… like my gut feelings (which have always been more accurate than my conscious brain-thoughts about how to live life). So her “will” is the same a mine: what is best for me, to be most fully me. If that makes sense.

That was February/March of that year that I did that work. Fast forward to August: I was spending about 20 minutes each night before falling asleep doing a sort of meditation breathing in & out to the phrase “Thou art / with me” (a borrowing w/ slight rewrite of part of the 23rd Psalm). Although some things were changing, I was still pretty messed up, still self-hating, & still going a lot into deep ugly pits of suicidal ideation. And then I was fired from my job.

My job was at a bookstore, one of several in a large Alaska-owned chain called the Book Cache, & the reason I was fired made no sense. I got confirmation later that I was fired for being a lesbian. But the important point is that as I was leaving the mall, in a matter of just a few steps down that hallway by the phone booth, a whole bunch of thoughts went like at-tat-tat-tat through my brain:

“This doesn’t make sense. Why me? I should just give up. First last night” [a particularly nasty evening in the pit] “& now this. I’ll never be free of this depression. I should just kill myself…. ” blah blah blah.

And then: “Thou art / with me.”

And with that thought, it all just… changed. I knew my brother & sister-in-law & friends wouldn’t let me die in the gutter. I knew I’d get through this, & would find another job. I knew I would be okay. (And I also knew that even if she was just a made up figment of my imagination, Mielikki was right there.)

And I went & got on the bus & went over to my brother’s & sister-in-law’s house to tell them about it.

Although I’ve had my bouts in the pit since then, I’ve never hated myself since, & have generally known that I could get through whatever hard times I have. Well, usually. Mielikki is still here — one of, & the most central of, what I now refer to as my “household gods.”

I call this belief in something I can’t prove, & even made up, but which is beneficial to me & nonharming to anyone, intentional belief. It works pretty well.

— Mel

(Mielikki is also the title character in one of my eternally-forthcoming novels, Mistress of Woodland.)

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