detox

I have been detoxing from religion. Sometimes I experience withdrawal when I look at photos of people who were in my "church family" or like today when I wanted to paint something meaningful. I spiraled out of control after an hour of creative process and ended up crying. It used to be so easy when I believed that there was this loving creator being with an unknown purpose for my life... now I can't even paint anything without questioning my own purpose.

Is life just about finding things that make you happy and surrounding yourself with those "happy" things? Or is life some sort of selfless crusade to make others happy, to give food, clothing, shelter, or education to people who need those things? The way I should live my life waits with answer to those questions.

I think I like to pretend it's the second, that selfless crusade, but when I look at my life, I don't actually do anything to show that I believe those things. I'm all talk.

I know people have always had questions and religions have always had answers. At some point, questioning God and religion became so painful, I had to stop thinking about it in an act of self-preservation. But where am I now? No active pursuit of anything beyond the physical here and now...where's the depth?

I tried to paint something today, but I didn't want to paint something meaningless. I ran circles in my head and ended up not painting anything at all. This usually happens when I try to make art a mode of communication. I don't speak that language. I need printed words not paint or colored pencils! How long has it taken me to realize this?! I'm a writer, not a painter!

Last time I blogged, I wrote about things that I have deemed meaningless and ever since then, I have imagined the people in my life reading it and being hurt by it...for example my aunt who loves her dogs like they were her own children or my friend Zoe who just got married this summer (diamond ring included) and a new puppy or Zach's mom or almost every married or pet-owning person I know... words can be swords. Why would I ever use them as such? It hurts more to hurt other people than for me to be hurt myself. Should I just go around saying agreeable things for the rest of my life? I can't. Should I go around pretending I'm the one who deems what is meaningful and what's not? No!

I've been looking at classes to take next semester. All along, I planned on taking Spanish, so I can get into a Latin American Studies Master's program, but now I'm thinking about writing classes.

This made me feel better today:

http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed.

Nobody has it all figured out.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed

by all the questions I ask myself

about life and meaning

but at least I'm not just going through the motions,

eating spoonful after spoonful

of whatever the last few generations of people

decided to mix into the goulash.

A hint of this,

a dash of that

and fifteen cups of traditions and social norms.

Ugggh!

I could say I'm tired of being fed that slop

but truthfully, it's even more tiring

to make something from scratch.

I question things like wedding rings.

Thousands of dollars spent

on something that just sits on a girl's finger.

It doesn't do anything good for the world at all.

In the Congo, $2,000 could send three kids to school,

for 12 years!

Then they would get better jobs,

be able to afford sending their own kids to school,

and generations of people would be changed.

$2,000 can change the world

but alas,

people spend it on wedding rings instead.

I question things like pets.

$41 billion dollars spent
in the United States in 2007
on food, medical care, and toys for pets.
When did we start valuing animals over people?

I question things like church buildings
that sit vacant 75% of the week.
Bouquets of flowers
that sit in vases slowly dieing.
Candy and soda
that have no nutritional value.

I question my questions sometimes.
Wedding rings and puppies make people happy.
Why can't I leave it at that?
People trade their hours for paper with numbers on it,
Who am I to decide how they spend that paper?

When looking at the imbalance of the world
with some people starving
and others eating themselves into obesity
some people buying jewelery
and others can't afford food, housing, or medical treatment,
at what point do I say something?
Do we belong to each other?
Should we feel responsible for the well-being
of anyone but ourselves?
I don't know.

I don't want to be judgmental.
I don't really care if people love luxuries
in fact I think it's wonderful that not everyone
is a replica of me.
But something isn't right.
Can anyone else see that?
Am I some crazy person,
pointing fingers and placing blame,
for some imaginary concern?

I don't have a religion to answer my questions.

4 Minutes and 8 Seconds of Peace

Two days ago I found something that swept me away, plopped me into a rocking chair on the top of a mountain, and left me to sit lost in thought and in awe of the world.

I felt upset about something work related and decided to look at videos on KarmaTube to feel better about the world. I watched a few before I found this. The images and sounds of this video wrap me in peace.

http://www.karmatube.org/videos.php?id=1980

In the last two days, I've watched it at least ten times and listened to it probably thirty.

Where I'm From

I'm from piles of bodies.
Carpet-burned knees, smashed faced, tangled limbs.
Rolling,
Shoving,
Body-slamming
and laughing.
Never give in,
even when your brother has been sitting on your head for five minutes.

I'm from playing tag for an hour
up and down the stairs,
around and around
the kitchen island,
then the table,
then the couch.
Mom
laughing the whole time from her recliner
with her happiest face,
then we descend
and tickle her happier
until no one can breathe.

I'm from this bratty,
controlling,
has-to-have-it-her-way,
red haired,
angel.
Who slips in before the sunrise and sticks her cold little piggy toes
right between my thighs
and asks in a small voice if it's time to get up yet.

Every day home is like a Christmas present
because this crazy red-headed girl,
who says, "But I want to sit next to Allie."
and cries every time I leave,
loves me fiercely,
like peanut butter loves jelly,
for no reason at all.

I'm from a curly-haired man who makes my sun rise every day.
Ears that hear more than I say,
Eyes that see more than just who I am in this moment,
but who I've been and will be,
and a heart that's big enough to fit all of me.

I'm from a Rush Limbaugh lovin', hard workin',
ice cream makin', Fox News watchin', family man.
He has punctured my heart with his words
over and over
but I still can't convince myself not to adore him.
He's my hero.
I call him Daddy.

I'm from people,
family,
ties that bind.
Old church hymns and campfire songs.
I'm from standing in my itchy tights by the fireplace
next to Grandpa before church on Sunday mornings.
From potlucks and baby blessings.
Bible school and church camp.
From the Lord is my shepherd and never wanting anything more
until I did.

I'm from hitchhikers,
on busy interstates and lonely mountain roads.
All sat next to me,
with different looks,
smells,
stories,
all pieces of who we are.

I'm from naming Nicaraguan babies,
crying over malnourished children
while they sit on my lap and play with my bracelets,
death due to toothache because no doctor was near.
From sweaty hikes to rural houses,
orange juice that gives you diarrhea for a week,
smiles and brown faces that stay in my mind always.

I'm from cliff diving,
Jumping off the roof just because we can,
and high places that terrify and exhilarate me.
From exploring coyote dens and climbing cliffs,
From pulling porcupine quills out of a buffalo's nose,
From watching a calf being born and a pig getting butchered.

I'm from tree fort building,
arrowhead finding,
old Indian sweat lodge exploring
and filling my shirt with baby turkeys.

From a giant blue sky framed with pine trees and mountains.
Every day filled with adventure and discovery,
never questioning my place in the world
or at least that's the way I remember it now.

Searching.
Learning.
Thinking.
I'm from those places too.

The place I'm from holds a million memories,
indescribable feelings,
different understandings of truth,
sadnesses,
fears,
joys,
and hopes.

I'm grateful for that place
because it's the road
that brought me
here.

Me and the littlest one :)

Parenting

My little sister can be a complete brat sometimes: eight years old and knows it all; famous for farting on my friends' faces and throwing giant fits that get her what she wants. I don't envy my dad or step mom for their jobs as her parents.

I used to get highly frustrated when she was allowed to eat two pieces of dessert instead of dinner or when I would ask her to do something and she would walk away without comment. "No respect!" I would yell in my head. Then I put myself in a different frame of mind. If someone my age pretended not to hear me when I asked them to do something, that would be extremely offensive, but she's only eight. I can see she has yet to learn the value of respect. Getting angry about this fact doesn't help anything.

I've realized that not everybody learns all the niceties of our culture. Not everyone had good parents and a loving community to support them while they grew into healthy, balanced, understanding people. It is not my job to teach every person every lesson there is to learn. There are endless amounts of lessons on respect, justice, truth, peace, how to treat people, how to love people in ways that allow them to feel your love, how to see a situation from the other person's perspective, why we don't always get what we want, etc. I am not the teacher of all things. Many times (maybe every time) my job is to teach people how far love can reach, despite all the lessons they've missed. My job is also to learn the lessons of patience and understanding that rude people teach. It's easy to be patient and nice to respectful people. Our real test is how we react when the sky isn't raining gumdrops and roses.

My sisters (ages 8 and 17) are flying in to visit for 17 days during November and December. I couldn't be happier! I'm also nervous. I don't know which lessons I'm meant to teach my littlest sister. It's not that I feel I need to be her teacher, but isn't that who I am inherently as her older sister? Shouldn't I be mindful of the things I'm teaching her?

On a selfish note, I have a fairly peaceful life. Giant fits over ice cream for dinner and when bedtime starts aren't really conducive to my inner calm. I'm definitely not ready to have children! Despite everything though, I know it will be wonderful to have that little girl sleeping in our guest bedroom for two weeks.

I hope I don't react to her anger with anger
because she has not yet learned
to harness and tame
the emotions that run wild within her.

I hope I don't mistake her fearful actions for disrespect ones.
because she is so young,
how can she know
where her actions are coming from?

I hope I don't take away even one ounce of her confidence
because she doesn't have a lot
and she needs it all
to survive the people who don't love her like I do.