Tag Archives: religion

Day 349: Lay Down your Burdens

I’ll be the first to admit, I have trouble with Christianity.

There are a lot of so-called Christians that have turned me off towards organized religion.

“You need to go to church.”

“You need to pay your tithes.”

“You can’t dress like that here.”

“You can’t bring that heathen in here with you.”

Their nasty behavior and judgmental attitudes are disgusting and I don’t have the energy for such treatment.

Despite being raised in the Baptist church, I don’t really identify with any religion. I’ve gotten the most out of Buddhist teachings in my adult life, but I’m not strictly aligned with them either. I believe that life is full of suffering and that people can’t escape it. A mindset change is the way to get through your life.

I don’t think the Divine needs all the pomp and circumstance. It’s there. I know it is. It knows I’m here. I respect it. We have an understanding. It doesn’t take any grand ceremony to marvel at the Universe’s handiwork. From microcosms to galaxies, it’s there if you care to look and be amazed.

But I digress…

Over the past several days, things have been less than great for me. I’ve been really down and extra stressed. I know finals week had a lot to do with it, but still. My prayer has been for the strength to get through the end of the year with a peaceful mind.

Heaven knows, it has been less than calm lately.

I’m not typically a praying person, but I talked to the Universe for a bit last night. I cried and vented and asked for grace. It felt good to let go of some of the feelings I was keeping bottled up. Honestly, I felt a little lighter when I finished.

Today, I had a pretty good day of work. Things didn’t feel as rushed or as hectic as they had been. I can’t say I’m not grateful. Small victories are still victories.


Day 205: Tear-Stained Hearts

Heat wave day 2: Things are nasty. My plants look to be on the verge of death. I wish I could move them into a shadier place. The sun is brutal. Protect yourselves.

In other news, I went to church again yesterday. I’m not claiming to be a very good Christian, or even Christian at all, but I felt like praying there would have more meaning. Sounds silly, but it didn’t hurt to try.

I wasn’t praying for my sake. You may recall an older post about my friend, Brandy, and her pregnancy with twins. Things had be going awesome but she took a bad turn last week. Her cervix began funneling and she was as sick as she could possibly be. Apparently, with single pregnancies, you can just have a surgery to shore up the cervix until the baby is at a more viable age. Unfortunately, this isn’t the case with multiples. The surgery becomes more risky and potentially dangerous for everyone involved as the pregnancy progresses. All she and her wife could do was to wait and pray.

I did the same. I’m not used to speaking with the Christian God. He and I have a very strained relationship that goes back into my childhood. Instead, I prefer to speak with different deities. “Whomever is on duty” is my typical salutation.

Anyway, I sat in church and asked God to give my friend the strength to deal with whatever the Universe was throwing at them. I know that most people would pray that Brandy and the babies would remain safe and healthy. I tried to throw that in there as well, but I’m a realist. I know that sometimes that our Earthly plans and The Universe’s plans don’t line up. It’s shitty but it’s a fact of Life. Keeping that in mind, I asked for strength, guidance and protection for my friends.

Sadly, at around the same time I was doing this, the male twin decided to make his appearance early. Around twenty-one weeks early. The little darling made it only three minutes before passing on. His name was Jeremiah Alan.

As of this morning, his sister is still in place. My friends are destroyed and heartbroken. All of us who know the situation are heartbroken as well. The Universe is a cruel mistress at times and we are all subject to its whims. We all want this little girl to be born healthy and at the proper time. The agony of losing both of them would probably be too much for my friends to handle.

I’ve never had to handle such a loss and I can’t truly imagine the sadness that Brandy and her wife are feeling right now. I’ve read stories about mothers that have lost a child and its really a terrible thing. You see reminders of them everywhere, especially if you’ve been busily preparing your home for their arrival. The sight of other mothers with their babies has even sent some women down a suicidal path. It’s possibly the worst pain a person can endure.

I hate seeing people I care about in pain, but I’m not sure what I can do to help. All I know I can do is continue to be as supportive as I can. They are going to need all the love and friendship I can muster for the foreseeable future.

Day 169: Dirt Dreams

I visited a mound today.

A mound of Earth that was built by Native Americans around 1100 ad.

It was hot and the march to the top was exhausting, but I made it. The view from there is impressive, but imagine how it looked when it was new. Before time  and industry wore it down. It had to have been amazing.

I thought about how my life would be if I has been born in that era. Working the fields in the same hot sunlight, preserving crops and fish for the brutal winters, birthing countless children without the aid of modern anesthesia. I’m sure I would have accepted it. How would I know any better? I would play the mother’s role as my mother and her mother did.

Standing on that mound made me reflective. I thought about all the people that had come before me. Civilizations that have come and gone before I was ever thought of. I thought about peoples that just went about their day to day lives, thinking about the past and future just like I do. Did those native women want to live free and happy lives just like I do? Did they dream of future generations and see greatness? The ancestors laid so much groundwork for us to build on and many of us ignore our historical connections altogether.

Would they be sad to know that? Would the people that came before us be bothered by the way we live now, locked in our own little bubbles?

I asked myself these questions and teared up. I hope I’m making my ancestors proud. I hope they gain the peace of knowing that their struggles and hardships weren’t in vain. I hope they are pleased that the legacy they left hasn’t been totally erased; that their lives mattered.

I decided, standing there in the summer sun, that I would live out my days in a way that would make my great grandmothers happy. I hope I’m part of the future they were dreaming of.

Day 147: Even Crazier


come on
My relationship with Life lately

I felt good today. That was probably my first mistake.

Church was nice. I had a little hope in my heart. The sun is shining and the weather is gorgeous.

Then I get home and go to my desk only to discover that the cat has shit on my laptop.


This time it was closed at least, but that didn’t stop him from shitting on top of and next to my computer. There was even shit on top of my USB ports and hubs. Clean up was very tricky.

You can imagine my anger right now. The frustration. The absolute, “I will kick you across the street” type of rage boiling inside me at this moment. It’s fortunate that I decided to write instead of releasing some of my fury.

This isn’t even MY cat. It’s my sister-in-law’s. Plus, this isn’t the first time the cat has shit of my computer. This animal continues to disrespect my house and I’m sick of it. My desk reeks of cat waste and I’m fed up.

Maybe I should take a walk to relax. It is nice out. I gotta do something before I flip out around here.

Day 136: The Stranger

Have you ever felt lonely while being surrounded by others? Many people have called this a strange otherness that they have difficulty living with or describing. I’ve fallen victim to such feelings myself, more often than I would like. My therapist would blame this phenomenon on my mild anxiety disorder and usually I would agree, but I’ve come across some things in my research that would imply that this is a common feeling in society.

There was a classical era sociologist named Georg Simmel. His work covered a broad range of topics from social hierarchies to fashion tends. Tonight, however, I’m reminded of his essay called “The Stranger”.

In his essay, Simmel speaks of social groups, or rather membership in social groups. One of the roles he describes is that of the stranger. The stranger is a member of a social group, but remains on the fringes. A person who is generally accepted, but has very loose ties with the other group members. They have the ability to drift in and out of and even between groups without much notice.

Think of the traveling merchant of days of old. They would go between different villages and kingdoms to sell their wares. The merchants managed to keep a good enough relationship with their customers to keep their income afloat, but they weren’t really included within other social matters of the land.

I’m playing that role this evening. I’m sitting in a room full of middle aged to elderly, upper middle class, white Christians. I’m a member of this church and have been attending for years, but I still feel like I am very much a stranger. It has become much more evident in the age of T*ump and his supporters.

I know that includes many members of this congregation.  I’ve heard their ramblings before the election and even afterwards. Some of their opinions are very misguided and I’m forced to keep my own  thoughts to myself to remain sane with these folks.

A smart person would just find another church. They would leave and seek the companionship and support of more like minded people. I, however, am obviously a glutton for punishment. Even now as I type this, I can’t bring myself to leave. My family still attends this church and I don’t want to leave them behind. Also, my son is beginning to explore his faith and I don’t want my issues to impose on any comfort he may have here.

So I remain a stranger in a very familiar land. I  The connections I have are few and that circle is becoming smaller as people stronger than I leave on their own journeys. Perhaps, their departure will make my own that much easier.