Tag Archives: agnostic

In case anyone else wants to know where I’m coming from, where I’ve been and where I’m headed.

Violet: “If I were asked which country in the world hates the US the most, I would have to say it’s Canada.”

Zoe:  I would say if I was asked, the U.S. does a fine job of hating itself and one another.  Then maybe China and North Korea might hate you more than Canadians.  Of course, I don’t know which Canadians or Canadian bloggers you are referring too.

Violet:  “I don’t know why, but it seems it’s a Canadian religion to bash Americans every chance they get. You know what’s odd? I almost never hear of Americans having vitriol for our neighbors North of the boarder.”

Zoe:  Almost never but sometimes?

Violet:  “I notice that you never talk about your own country on this blog, but persistently harp on every flaw Americans have. I’ve read many Canadian blogs but have had to bow out of all of them for this same reason.”

Zoe:  I gave up talking about my own country when my adult children assumed positions in the community and province that would expose them if people knew who their mom was and what she was writing online.  That’s also when I chose the option for search engines to ignore my blog.  I also moved here to this new url (14 years ago according to my WordPress Anniversary notice last week) when I made those decisions.  Up and until then I was followed by bloggers all over the world in the Christian community.  During that time I spoke up politically about Canada frequently as it pertained to religion, not just Christianity but often involving Islam.  I wrote frequently about honour killings and wrote a long article encouraging a former Premier to outlaw Sharia law.  The next day he did.  Did he see my article?  I don’t know.   The point being I was a prolific writer and at that time unafraid in regards to my government.  I have been a political person my entire life, having written to my Canadian government during my college years as well as being outspoken in the community, medical and educational system.  I’ve also had politicians in my family.  It’s in me.  As well I have been an advocate for the abused outside the church, for those with special needs, for those who are dying and in the mental health field.  At one point, I became very concerned about exposure and people figuring out who Zoe was/is.  I also developed a fear because I was outspoken regarding Islam and the honour killings happening here.  I was brave then.  I’m not now.  And though I wrote about this in a previous blog and during my busier blogging days, I was scared to death of a former friend’s “lover” who at one time was involved with (removed as this info. can still trigger me).  Shortly after being verbally and abusively in written form, attacked by her, my husband had to pick me up off the floor from being shattered in a million pieces as she told me I was an abomination to the Lord and responsible for raising and immoral and corrupt generation of children.  Narcissists love to hit you where your strengths are.  Meanwhile she’s carrying on an affair with a converted preacher (removed this info. as it is still triggering) guy.  But I’m the abomination.  And just sharing that there is too much information to put in a blog.

In my 30’s I fought for my life with severe illness, spending almost 2 years in bed, only later to be hospitalized and fighting for my life sick with intestinal disease as well as battling a body and mind that were deteriorating.  If I’m not mistaken, you suffer as well.  In my 40’s I began to deconstruct my religion and belief system understanding that I was falling apart emotionally and mentally due to Christian abuse and felt the extreme weight of guilt and shame for having taken part in it, raising my children in it, losing friends over it and being active in youth ministry.   As well, I began to develop deep understanding of the roots of original trauma from my youth.  I’ve never been the same since.  This blog is read by maybe 6 people though all kinds of people *follow* it and commenting here is at a minimum.  You have been privy I believe to some of my password protected posts and know some of the shit I’ve been through.  You also know I’m not a human being who ignores the humanity of other people.

Violet:  “We’re PEOPLE, Zoe. Just people, trying to get through our day despite being ruled by an imperfect government. Just like everyone else on earth.”

Zoe:  On the night I posted David Frum’s Twitter message, I had been texting my close friend who is American and lives in Michigan.  She told me she was terribly depressed about the U.S. President, the postal service debacle, and told me “Don’t come here, it’s awful!”  She forgot that we can’t go there as our border is not open.  My point being, she was terribly upset and in the years I’ve known her I have not heard her admit to this kind of depression.  I tried to lift her spirits and planned to talk to her the next day.  And so I did for several hours.  She kept asking why these people in the U.S. believed Trump.  How can they not see he’s lying, his narcissism, his cruelty.  We talked about David Frum’s Twitter message.  I found it interesting, so I posted it.  She hesitated to talk about the QAnon stuff because she knows it triggers me and I told her we both could talk about it since we both were upset about it.  I don’t go on and on in writing anymore Violet.  I’m tired.  I’m no longer going to invest in the behind the scenes explanations.  No one reads here because I write great instructive exposes on anything.  This is like a personal diary that I sometimes write poorly in and for the most part anyone that reads here and sometimes comments here has done so with grace.  I suspect many have moved on.   And that’s not a problem with me.  Every day I think about moving on too.  Often I can’t even form sentences anymore.  I might start something and not bother with commentary on it.  I’m just putting it here for something to do.

Anything I write regarding the U.S. is because I’m fucking shitless scared of the world we are living in.  Yes Violet, I’m a people too.  And yes, the U.S. is a big part of my life from the time my ancestors landed on your eastern shores.  The branch I was in stayed loyal to the throne and headed north.   Others stayed south.  In doing so, some of my ancestors died before they got here.  They were considered traitors.  Some of my ancestors came up the St. Lawrence and participated in establishing a Christian religion and nation by eliminating Indigenous peoples all in the name of Christ.

The U.S. Southern Baptists highly influenced the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist Church here in Canada and to tell you the truth, the U.S. was the bees knees and we were beneath them when it came to the one true religion.  Our speakers on creationism, evolution, abortion and demonic activity travelled from the U.S. to tell us all about it.  The gospel groups came from the U.S. to sing their praises.  Our printed materials for Sunday School came from the U.S.  to indoctrinate our children.  Our youth programming came from the U.S.  Seminars and mission events were held in the U.S.  We were inundated with the U.S. conservative evangelical movement and when the church growth movement started, we did it too.  During my short stint in Bible College some of our full-time profs were Americans.

We have friends and family in the U.S.  By the way, the U.S. family are very conservative and think we Canadians aren’t the sharpest tools in the tool chest.  Talk about vitriol.

When I came online in 2001 , to forums looking for help with spiritual abuse I knew not one Canadian.  When I started blogging a few years later, I still did not know one Canadian blogger.  When it came to Christian blogs they were American.  I literally lived in the American Christian world day and night online.  The books I read were written my American authors.  The forums were run by Americans.  It formed my world view both religiously and politically.  And though when I deconstructed what I use to believe I slowly left that world with as much grace as I could knowing that once again I was disappointing people I had networked with for years.

When I started writing as an agnostic and then an agnostic atheist I found only one online atheist woman and she was American.  She stopped blogging years ago.   Later I found John Loftus’s blog and though it was way out of my league that’s where I started to learn of others who had left Christianity and were blogging about it.  Then over the years, ex-Christian blogs blew up all over the place and guess what?  All American.  I was still fully engaged in the U.S. as we all wrote about, commented on and discussed leaving the faith.  I think a few other Canadians were in the mix but I no longer know as I myself don’t read hardly any blogs.  If you look at my list of blog sites, almost all of them are dormant as many people aren’t blogging anymore.  I still leave some of their blogs listed just in case by chance someone pops in here looking for information and maybe then they can find stuff that will help them with their doubt and changing beliefs.  Maybe they won’t feel so alone.

So I’ve just sat around in here, though less and less as the years pass by, toying a bit  I suppose with what might have been or what should have been.   Then Covid-19 startled not only me, but you and an entire universe with traumatic changes.  I decided to try and develop a cohesive way of learning about QAnon and trying to understand mom so that every single time I am in touch with her I am not literally slain and knocked off my feet for days, weeks &/or months at a time.  And I’m sorry but I can’t talk about QAnon without talking about the U.S. President, his government and the people who believe it.  And yes, we have QAnon here in Canada but every bit of mom’s stuff comes from U.S. websites.  So I am pissed beyond measure.  I’ve been traumatized since Trump came down the escalator.  I’m not the only one.  And yes I know people are dying and starving and killing one another and despairing.  I bloody well know that Violet.  And though you aren’t reading this, I’m content to know you’ve moved on because this blog doesn’t meet your expectations anymore.  Hell, it doesn’t meet mine, apart from the fact that I can come in here because it is my blog and prattle on about what ever it is that is making me sick to my stomach at the moment.

Violet:  “I initially came to this blog because we both had similar experiences of being beaten down by religion. Religion was something I was born into and had no control over when I was a child. Now I’m leaving this blog because because I’m being beaten down for being American…something I was also born into and have no control over. You can say I’m taking things too personally, but when I read post after post of hatred toward the US, I feel unwelcome here.”

Zoe:  You can take it personally.  If there’s anything I’ve learned now by age 64 is that a woman has every right to take whatever it is that she finds offensive and hateful and leave.  I don’t hate the U.S. Violet.  That is over the top.  It’s because I care that I’m angry, scared and traumatized by what’s going on.   I am taking what is going on in the U.S. personally.  You want to blame me for hating the U.S. go ahead.  I only hate Trump and the goons who once ran against him and all said on tape that he was terrible in every way shape or form.  Now they have bowed down to him and kissed his ass.  Yes, I take that personally because as the U.S. goes often the world goes and it damn well affects/effects Canadians too.  As well, right from the start, what is going on in the U.S. government reminds me hook, line and sinker of my days in church.  Is this all stuff for a therapist?  Yup.

Violet:  “I wish you only the best on your journey. My journey leads me elsewhere now.”

Zoe:  Okay.  You may feel unwelcome here.  I would never dispute what you feel.  For the sake of people who may read here and wonder, people who have the password to my password protected posts are not unwelcome and Violet, that includes you.  I don’t give my password out to just anybody.  There are people who have asked and I’ve said, no.  We are people and there’s so much more to both of us as human beings than what is shared on this one blog.

Addendum:  For those reading this, I apologize for the discomfort.  I’m feeling it too.  I do not expect anyone to feel they have to respond &/or comment.  We’re all entitled to come and go and to give voice.

“Say what you want to say and let the words fall out, honestly . . . ” (from the Brave song.)

The God Question

Is coming soon to a grandma I know.  It’s only a matter of time.

Baby’s Bible.  A soft-book.  First page.  Noah’s Ark.  God loves Noah so much that he had Noah build an ark and put 2 of every animal on the ark.  Then the rains came.  Noah and his family were safe (and all the other people died.) *sigh*  Why’d they die grandma?  God killed them.  Why?  God said they were bad people and he was sick and tired of them so he killed them.

Good god can you imagine such a conversation with pre-school children?  So okay, I won’t respond like that, but what’s an atheist grandma who use to believe God killed all those bad people to do?

I was a little older when I asked my maternal grandparents why they didn’t go to church.  They weren’t atheists though.  Well, technically that is, though according to my former fundamentalist evangelical belief system they were atheists because their God wasn’t the true God.  The Christian Science God and the Unitarian Universalist God is not the same God as the fundamentalist evangelical God.  Nope.  Nada.  End of question.  To hell with them!  Literally.

For many years, post-escaping spiritual abuse and then leaving the church, though still a believer, I carried often in an unconscious way, the burden of raising our children in the church as well as ministering in the church to the community in general, and specifically with the youth.  I felt guilty.  Like I’d literally practiced being immoral with them.  Like I had tortured them in some way by introducing concepts such as hell, divine punishment and eternal agony.  I thought of the lessons I had taught during our ministry and how some children would go home in agony and no one would ever know it.  I wondered if I myself, as part of the collective whole, the body of Christ was not indeed complicit in altering the minds of children with a belief system that taught the concept of eternal torture.  The topic is big.  Bigger than I can even manage blogging about at the moment.  Here’s what recently came to me though.  And how many years has it been coming?  And will the tidal swells ever end?  I don’t think so but I do think I’ve made peace with that.  One can heal, keep healing but also accept that it is not a failure if the swells rise up from time to time.  Onion layers if you will.  I work towards being positive but the weight of it all crumbles the body and the mind.  Here’s what I’m finding words for but not eloquent words yet.  Maybe there are none?

I’ve pined away about my impact on others but the one thing that I tend to push aside is the impact on me.   What it is actually like to be the torturer.  You teach the stuff, you believe it, but then you also are aware and hear yourself giving ideas and concepts to children who are developing at various levels of growth, both physically and mentally.  Young brains.  Not done forming.  Brains that go home and imagine what the burning flesh in hell feels like.  Brains that don’t understand what parents, family, teachers and church people are saying.  Brains that lead a little girl to her youth teacher (me) in fears and trembling because she thinks her parents are going to go to hell for baptizing her when she was a baby and for being Anglicans.  There you are (me) raising and teaching a generation that Jesus loves them and you need to love him back or else.  I’m digging here for words.  I think I feel like the soldier who has to follow orders and tortures the enemy in prison.  The soldier who follows orders but is sickened by what he/she hears, sees, experiences.  The soldier who’s conscience is blown to pieces by the inhumanity of it all.  The soldier comes home from war not only traumatized by what they saw/did/were ordered to do, but suddenly realizes that the whole thing was also an assault on them.  You are to obey and do what you are told.  Parts of you scream out, ‘No, this is wrong!’  The other part says, ‘Shut up.  This is for the greater good.’

I want to work this out.  I want to use my words to give voice.  My body and mind are so tired from the impact.  I want to find the words, all the while thinking if I can just do that, find the words, order them, free them, then maybe another layer of healing will start.  All I know is this, my intention is not to harm or traumatize any more young minds (my grandchildren).  The thing is, even if I don’t contribute directly to their torturing, indirectly I do, because they’d be less tortured souls if they could grow up not being tortured about grandma’s eternal destination.  And if they are anything like me as a child, they will be tortured at the thought of their grandparents being in hell.

Morning Meditation 1

Pointing to the sky.  Is that Jesus? said the young child.

Parent A looked to the sky.  A kite?  A drone?  It was difficult to tell.

Parent B in telling me this story asked, where did that question come from?

Their child is not being raised “Christian.”  Not in church.  Yet, here said child is asking if that white object flying in the sky is Jesus.  What?

So, I simply said, likely school.  Really?  the parent said.

Really.

This is a simpler version of our conversation together.

I reminded parent B that they have a prosperous large evangelical Christian community around them.  You should see the size of their evangelical church.  Beyond anything I’ve seen.  One of many churches that exist there.

I emphasized that there would likely be little evangelists on the playground.  It’s not at all unusual.  Children are learning about salvation, and reminded to go out into the world and preach the gospel.  It’s what the evangelical church does.

I shared about my own past work in youth ministry.  Youth are encouraged to go home and get their family to come to church.  Same thing at school.  Tell your friends and bring them to church.  They are just doing what they are told.  He wondered about the sky thing.  Jesus.  Jesus is supposed to return in the sky.  She’s probably heard one of the little evangelists tell her that or she’s overheard it somewhere on the playground.

I was going to tell him but didn’t, about a friend’s child who told fellow students in kindergarten that Santa was Satan.  I know you’ve all heard.  Move the *n* and voila.  [Edited:  few sentences removed for private reasons.]  All the child was doing was telling/evangelizing/teaching fellow students “the truth.”  An innocent child just telling everyone the horrors of Satan.  Doing what he’s told.  It’s not really shocking at all when you think about it.

One of the things I live with, though I suppose probably to the detriment of my already poor health and part of the reason for it, I carry a heavy burden about my past evangelistic life.  I now realize that I also carried it during my evangelistic life.  But that was to be expected and quite noble.

When you think Jesus is your answer and you’re pretty sure he’s the answer for everyone, well, he’s the answer and the only answer you know.  And when you think there is a heaven and there is a hell, you want heaven and you want heaven for everyone.

Picture a back pack full of rocks and you carry that pack all over the place.  Holiday.  Back pack.  Sleep.  Back pack.  Community, socializing.  Back pack.  Family.  Back pack.  I could go on.  Each rock represents an unsaved soul.  For every soul that comes to salvation, a rock is taken out.  Relief?  No.  There’s just another rock you come across and have to pick up to put in your pack.  Another unsaved person.

But Zoe, Jesus does the saving.  Yes he does.  And he told us to go into the world and preach the gospel, as how can they know unless we go.  We tell, then Jesus saves.  It’s quite complicatingly (new word?) simple.

My fingers are aching.  Where am I going with this?  Let’s see.

Not only was I in youth ministry, [Edited:  private information removed] I supported the influx of the *Good News clubs (made a mistake – actually the Key Bible Clubs) into our public school.  I wasn’t overly involved in that but I think I very much helped with that smooth transition.  Sure, sounds harmless.  What could be better than telling the truth to little innocents about how much Jesus loves them?  And since Jesus needs a lot of “tellers” doing the telling, the more clubs the better.

Thinking about the back pack again.  Not only is it full of the weight of all those rocks/unsaved souls, it is full of sand.  Not little grains of sand.  Buckets and buckets of sand.  The sand is “the gospel.”  You carry it everywhere, 24/7.  E.v.e.r.y. where.  If you lighten your load of sand by “not telling” when you should have told, the lighter sand feels like wet sand.  Heavier.  The wet is guilt and or shame.  It’s sin.  And of course, you can’t have one without the other.  Gospel, sin.  Always together in the mix.  The body breaks down as the burden of divine obedience preys on the mind.  All of it mixed in the love of Jesus.  That shed blood, that sacrifice, the agony.  Complaining about the burden is not allowed.  Not when, Jesus . . .

Suffer the little children

When he cometh, when he cometh, to make up his jewels

Crown of thorns

Spears in sides

Like the stars of the morning

All our sins and griefs to bear

Damn it Zoe.  You carry that back pack and your carry it because Jesus . . .

Then the complicatingly simple becomes obviously simply complicated.  What?  The trek up the mountain breaks you.  Not another step.

The fall hurts and nearly kills you.  Me.

Shaking and sore, the back pack fell off on the way down.  The fall breaks in a small lake at the foot of the mountain.  A new baptism?  My back pack!  Where is it?  All those rocks!  My God!  The sand!  The buckets and buckets of sand!  The water.  Oh the water feels so good.  I’m bleeding.  I’m bruised.  I don’t feel the relief from losing the back pack.  I look up the mountain.  Did I fail?  Was it all real?

I think . . . I’ve changed my mind.

The children.  The family.  The friends.  Reputation.  Support.  Purpose.  Existing.  I’ve change my mind.  But it is so wrapped in the bandages of fundamentalism.  The body wrapped in tin armour.  The armour of God no more.  Just the stiffness of a body that was frozen from the burden.

Then in the recovery, the healing . . . what’s left of the former soul? Me. A new burden.  A new back pack.  Filled with the guilt of bringing to the lives of others, their own back packs.

 

Foggy Ponderings

I wake up early.  Most mornings I have a headache, facial and jaw pain.  Most mornings my brain is foggy.  It usually worsens as the day goes on.  It’s in the mornings I can read, ponder, attempt conversation and if up to it, sit down and type out some thoughts.  I often feel like a gardener (I am one) who is digging through the soil of my brain looking for fertile ground where I can plant some words and thoughts I have or go searching for some words and thoughts I have and try to get them out of me in some sort of coherent fashion.  Sadly, it is exhausting for me.  I just never know whether to bother.  I use to write copious notes.  I have talked/wrote about this before.  My brain can’t hold fast to all that effort anymore.  I want it too but it seems too scattered to reign it all in.  I’ve felt this way my whole blogging career.  :)  Couldn’t resist saying it is a career.  ;)  The thing is, for me, aging isn’t helping. Or maybe I’m being called away to a new garden.  Away from the writing to a visually creative world.  Photography helped me ground myself during some rough years.  It still helps.  Now I’m looking at acrylics and starting to see if painting will help me tell my story.  The story of me that isn’t seen.  Beyond the walls of Wings.  Not so much a story that looks to be shared with anyone else but me.  A solitary endeavour to reach within and with the purpose of true flight.  Too see what can bloom outside letters on a keyboard.  ( I had no idea I was going to type all that out today.)

Okay, so moving on to what I was thinking when I sat down here.

Here’s a conversation I started with CC about 3 days ago?  Link provided after the quote.  I recommend you read her post to understand where she’s coming from on the topic of Syrian refugees/Christian response.  Remember CC is a Christian and I’m not sharing this to disabuse her of her faith.  So I’m not looking for anyone to do that here with her.  The reason I’m sharing this is because the stuff in my brain came out in conversation with her early that morning and I’m too tired to take it and rewrite it into an opinion piece for my blog.

[…]Suddenly, the ones they have prayed for and gone to great lengths to reach are knocking at the door. Christians don’t have to go anywhere; they need not leave their jobs and uproot their families and learn a language. They need not write monthly newsletters and sell all of their possessions and raise support. The very ones they struggled to approach are asking to come to them—and they are met with a resounding “No,” because Christians are afraid of dying. Let us pretend that refugees aren’t fleeing the same terror we fear, and let us say for a moment that these fears about their presence in our nation are fully justified. Will you only die to follow Christ and make Him known if it’s on your terms? My response to Dr. Robert Jeffress is this: It is impossible to reach a mission field you are unwilling to identify.[…] – CC – LINK

Zoe

This thought (your first sentence) came across my neurons the other day. Isn’t this the prime opportunity to evangelize and convert these Muslims? Why such resistance?

At the same time, I being a former evangelizing Christian (with all of my heart and soul) and now a non-Christian (with all my heart and soul) abhor the thought of bringing them here with a mission/agenda to convert them. Yes, you’d think Christians would be eager to bring them in since that seems to be a Biblical mandate in and of itself but I have to ask, is this fear response anything new really? I think of a time when Christians arrived on our shores. Did they bring love with them as they forced conversions and slaughtered the native people’s of the land then?

I know I’m preaching to the choir here. It’s not just a Christian problem. It’s a human problem. We don’t accept “others” and we fight against plurality. I listened to a radio program recently about the slaughter of a man in India who butchered a cow for meat for his family. He was a non-Hindu and he was cruelly killed by a Hindu mob who heard he killed a sacred cow. Apparently he’s not the only one killed. These realities don’t hit our airwaves.

From the same paragraph quoted above:

. . . and let us say for a moment that these fears about their presence in our nation are fully justified.

When it comes to fear though, I think it is easier to fear the outsider than the insider. Watch the news and we have much “to fear” if you will in our own North American world. But, add the outsiders (whether these refugees or others) and we easily create a mob mentality of fear of “the others” to keep our mind off our own stuff. It conveniently helps us with our own denial. The homeless and the starving on our own streets. The ancestor’s of those we slaughtered on reservations and in our Canadian north who have no clean water and face an epidemic of hopelessness. Homegrown terrorism. How easy it is to shift our fears away from our own reality to the reality of “the other.”

Here in Canada, in my own province of Ontario, in a country considered the bee’s knees to hear some people talk, a Mosque was torched in Peterborough after the Paris attacks. A Muslim woman standing on a sidewalk waiting for school dismissal was accosted. Yesterday two more women at the subway were shoved and verbally abused. A Mexican woman, and immigrant who converted to Islam (does not even wear the traditional garments) received a note in her mailbox telling her to go home. There are and will be more of these incidents. And we’re suppose to be a progressive and pluralistic society.

Again though I’m hit with the reality that seriously, none of this is new about human behaviour. When I think about being accosted in my own church that I had dedicated my life too. I will refrain from the emotional visual thing I wrote in my journals and shared with therapists but suffice it to say I did not die as a result of the cruelty of others but I did die as a result of the cruelty. Which leads me to my final point.

I fear for refugees that do get into western countries because when I think of how we have treated one another (Christian to Christian) under the banner of Christian love, I shudder at how they will be treated if and when after years of assimilating most won’t convert to the chosen religion and as a result will still be feared and looked down upon.

CC
November 20, 2015 at 6:13 am
I agree wholeheartedly with what you said. What breaks my heart is that even vigorous Christian evangelism and racism and hatred will be better than what they are coming from. That’s why, while I do not agree with this evangelical motive, I’m all for using the argument to help many Christians see the error in their thinking. In my circle, it is the Christians (who already feel “oppressed” by gay marriage and the “war on Christmas”) who are making the boldest statements against accepting them. Whatever the motive, we need enough activism to get them here–then I feel like many of the Christians will just retreat to the corner and whine (rather than evangelizing or actively opposing), and we’re all used to that.

To be clear, When I say things like “Let us say that the fears are justified,” I’m speaking completely hypothetically. I do not think they are justified beyond what we already have to fear from humans living within our borders, as you said so well. What I anticipate is that, while a fraction of a percent of violent crimes are widely reported now, all of them committed by refugees will make international headlines.

One unique thing about this crisis is that it gives me a stance against what disturbs me about Christianity—without requiring me to actually stand against Christianity. I can use my voice in my own circle, even as a “counterfeit.” Because Jesus would have let them in.

Great to hear from you, Zoe!

… Zoe ~
November 21, 2015 at 4:19 am
I hear you CC. You might be interested in knowing or maybe won’t even be surprised by another thought I had recently. Don’t panic now, I haven’t changed my mind but . . . (don’t you love but’s?) there was a moment recently when I almost wished I was still in the church so I could be a loving activist wolf in sheep’s clothing. Just for the dialogue you know? Just to drop stuff into the atmosphere during conversation. I use to do that though and it was terribly unpleasant and I was a sheep then! I use to think if Jesus could die for me I could put up with a little social martyrdom. Then I remember the price we paid (as I hinted to above). There was nothing “little” about it and for me, staying in that environment fighting the good fight would be like ignoring the flight attendant telling me to put my O2 mask on so I could save just one more person before I passed out and ultimately died. I’m no Jesus. ;) (Not saying you are though. You just remind me of someone I use to know.) <3

Good to see you writing again. And all the best to you and Russell and your children as you await your third child. :)

Rumbling Grumbles

I can’t sleep. It’s 2:39 a.m. and my problematic bowels are grumbling so loudly that it would be easier to sleep with a train running through the house. Then I couldn’t hear the rumbling grumbles. Reminds me of the many nights I sat on the toilet screaming in pain into my pillow, holding myself up with the towel bar, constantly asking “Jesus to take the wheel”, wondering if I could catch my breath to take another breath and often praying for permanent relief even if that meant death.  I had no idea that even then the entire way of belief kept me sick. Stress.

I still to this day don’t hate God. How often do we hear that? That we hate God. And there is no way around it even when we try to explain that one can’t hate someone who doesn’t exist. I don’t even hate the idea of, the concept of or the myth of God.  I hate the literalization of God and that’s not a “God” problem. it is a human problem. And I hate that humans are so tribal about it all that though they claim peace, there is no peace.

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HT – Blinder’s Off for the musings.

The Beach and Home Depot

Have you found that when you are out talking and interacting with people that you later think, ‘Wonder what they’d think if they knew I don’t believe in “God?”

On the beach we converse with people, rarely is religion &/or politics mentioned.  Oh one person might say something like, ‘See you next year, Lord willing’ – but other than that, it’s mostly about health, house and family.

I’m standing knee-deep in the water and taking hold of what for me is beauty.  The water, the birds, dolphins, shells, sand, a light breeze.  This is one of my heavens.  Anyone seeing me wouldn’t for the life of them ever think that, that woman was an *inaudible gasp* atheist!  I wonder, if they knew, would they care to be so friendly or would it change our interactions?  There is no need to ‘come-out’ on the beach.  :mrgreen:  I’m not looking to do so anymore than it seems others are out there to evangelize.  Seems like those of us on the beach have decided that sun, surf and sand is all the religion we need right now.

Now, at Home Depot that’s a whole other thing.  Biker Dude while visiting his own heaven :mrgreen: talks with a HD employee who asks where he’s from.

Canada.

How do you like your Prime Minister.

I’m not really a fan of his.

Well he’s better than our dictator!  I can`t understand why the people voted him back in.

Zoe thinks to herself, okay, don`t come-out at Home Depot.  :shock:

2012 Wrap-Up

I am currently otherwise occupied at the moment.  Attempts at blogging may? resume before too long.

A few things I’ll mention as a place holder until I get back.  I’m not getting around to as many blogs as I’d like and my reading as such around the net is limited at the moment.  I wanted to mention the prayer vigil for the dead in Connecticut.  Maybe someone else noticed this and wrote about it, but as I mentioned, I haven’t been out and about reading much so I don’t know.  The pastor/reverend/clergy-person who opened the vigil, I think he was from a Methodist church, included in his list of people who are gathered to remember the dead – “people of no faith.”  Not sure if those were his exact words and maybe there is a script available online somewhere that shows the quote.  I remember at the time wondering if any non-theist or non-religious people heard it and what they thought about ‘being included.’  I did not sense at all his inclusion of non-religious people as derogatory.  I heard an acknowledgement that we are out here.  That we too care and that we are around and helping too.  Compassion, mourning and activism do not belong to the “God-believers” alone.  At any rate, just wanted to mention that and see if anyone else out there heard him include us and if so please feel free to share what you heard and thought about it.

I also thought I’d mention the titles of books I managed to read since my last grouping that I posted about.  I decided to do some reading about bipolar disease by an author who has it.  I do not have bipolar but I have wondered for a long time about a family member of mine who though never diagnosed might be on the spectrum of bipolar, if indeed the term “spectrum” is part of the discussion regarding bipolar.  The author is Marya Hornbacher and I read her books titled Madness and Sane.  If you don’t have bipolar, by the time you finish the book Madness you feel like you do.  This is not any kind of suffering that I’ve ever had.  You can read more about Marya on her website if you are so inclined.  I don’t do good reviews of books.  I just know that for me, this was helpful in getting inside the lives of those with bipolar.  Her book Sane is basically a 12-Step book along the AA model for Alcoholics Anonymous.  I didn’t quite finish the book because I had to give it back to the person I borrowed it from and can easily finish it at another time but I am going to buy her book titled Waiting.  I’m more interested in her approach to recovery and wellness in that book because as I understand it she looks at it from a non-theist point of view.

Before I read the bipolar books I finished reading my favourite book of 2012.  I learned about this book at The Agnostic Wife blogAn Unquenchable Thirst by Mary Johnson is the story of a young woman’s calling to Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity Order and her journey to fulfill that calling.  I loved reading about the very simple and quite complicated way of becoming a nun and the austere experience it was in every way.   I could relate so very much to her young sense of calling and her efforts to obey not only God but those God put in authority over her.  Obeying unquestionably leaves ones bereft of their own reasoning and identity and she just seemed to never be able to abdicate neither reason nor identity.  I could relate.  There is so much to say and I can’t say it.  It’s because in so many ways I too have a book inside of me but still I can’t bring order to my thoughts.  They, my thoughts, are much too much clothed in emotion.    Mary starts her journey as a sincere young teenager who senses a calling and heads in that direction with the greatest of intentions and a heart that does not yet know what this calling entails.  She trusts in a God that is there and the faith of those who have paved the way – Mother Teresa.  In the end Mary leaves the order and pursues a life outside her Catholic faith.  I highly recommend the book for those who enjoy reading the stories of women who embrace a calling and later leave it.  Religion looks down on them as spiritually weak for leaving.  I look up to them as having the courage to look reality in the face and obey their own hearts and minds.

At some point after leaving the Order, Mary left Christianity.  That’s the part of story you don’t hear about in this book.  I can only hope one day we will read the rest of the story.

For those who are interested to read more about Mary, Adam Lee at Big Think interviewed her.  You can read that interview HERE.

Waiting in the wings, I’d like to finish the book titled Scared Sick; The Role of Childhood Trauma in Adult Disease by Robin Karr-Morse with Meredith S. Wiley.  I read up to Chapter 6 in 2011 and then put it aside.  This often happens with me when I read books dealing with trauma, recovery and healing.  I recognize that I can only take so much at a time and it’s okay to put a book down and come back to it later when it is likely that I am strong enough to continue.

My latest new purchase is Oliver Sacks new book, Hallucinations.  I hope to get a start on it soon.  I don’t know anything about Oliver but I plan on starting to get to know him with THIS VIDEO that I found.

So, we come almost to the end of the year 2012.  I want to wish my readers well for the upcoming year and to thank you all for reading (even the lurkers) and for participating when and if you can.  I’m always aware that any time I post it might be my last, but not necessarily because I planned it that way.  Life and death have a way of dictating our next day, hour, minute &/or second, right?  :-)  Though I don’t plan on not being here, one just never knows . . .