Faith

I was never one to rip something apart just to figure out how it worked. I just never was that kid.

However.

On our drive home from San Francisco the other night, Eric and I had yet another discussion about faith as it relates to both religion and science. Some of you may think after previous posts that I feel science relieves me of the need for faith as it provides much proof. I thought perhaps this was the case as well, but after going through a few surprisingly interesting discussions on faith during my stint in the clink and after discussions with Eric I know (oh god, that word)--rather, I feel this isn't true anymore.

Again! Must...get...vocab...out...of...brain.

During the summer after high school, I felt an interest in attending a Christian college, learning Hebrew, and seeing the original Biblical texts for myself because I wanted to know for myself. I had to know everything and not trust in what preachers told me. I knew because I had experienced that every preacher and every church in every denomination generally taught varying things. Knowing this is part of what drew me to the LDS church--it was the same everywhere.

So I felt a need to know everything. I knew it was a difficult if not impossible task, but I wanted to try.

Then I read the BYUish codes I had to agree to to get into such colleges (Bethany, in particular) and couldn't even pretend. I didn't believe in the Trinity. I didn't believe in the Nicene Creed. Dead before I even stepped in the door.

The LDS church answered all my questions for me anyways. The KJV was the bestest out there. Living and breathing prophets had spoken with god. These stories were recent, a plus in my book.

Anyway, so you join and you know everything. Woo! (even though you don't, shh!)

Enter disaffection and apostasy and suddenly you're faced with the fact that you don't know shit, jack. I thought I was okay with this. A lot of people, I've found, find a great deal of comfort in this. Then I began to learn a little bit more about my world, about life's history and development and past. Hardly enough to make me an expert but enough to make me blink a couple times.

Then Eric, having gone through a rather rigorous math program, told me he feels he knows enough to take care of the possibility of there being a god. He is an atheist in the sense that he feels chances are slim to none, and he'll just live his life as a good person.

I discussed this a little bit here, and quite a few balked. Nobody wants to say they "know" anymore, and I completely understand this. I had learned I know nothing, something I still feel to this day. But not in a comforting sense. I'm hardly comforted by this.

It's a lot of pressure for me, personally, to know nothing. I'm surrounded by people who know so much. I don't understand how Eric is so educated on so many things. People in general. I don't get where I got off the boat. I feel rather stupid, to put it bluntly.

So I want to know more.

I've been feeling an immense need and intense internal pressure to learn everything there is to know about evolutionary biology, about genetics, about history. But I'm not a biology major, nor will I be one. My love is for English. And I hate lab. While I feel a fascination and a love for biology, I don't have the fucking time to go back and get my math and chemistry taken care of JUST so I can get my biology minor. I'm working my ass off in just this one class to get a good grade. I'd kill myself later. It wouldn't happen. I figure I'll just watch shows with Eric and read a few books. I'd rather minor in history, anyways.

But still, y'all, I want to know more.

So I spoke with Eric about that. There are plenty of people out there (a very small group by comparison I'm told) who are, I assume, non-religious and who don't accept the theory of evolution and natural selection. I do not include the crazy folk over at the Creation Museum, by the way.

But I want to know their side. I want to know what it is that is keeping this from being fact. In my heart, I'm a debater. I have to know both sides. I have to consider everything so I'm not a schmuck who just falls in with the popular crowd.

Eric and the scientific community at large tells me I don't have to know the other side. It just is. It's so close to fact that I may as well consider it fact. Like humans' responsibility for global warming.

There's that word again. Fact. Know.

But there's a bit of faith involved, isn't there? Faith in my books, my professor, science. Is it much different than faith in a book of ancient scripture? Theologians? People who claim to have a direct batphone to god?

Well, that last one probably not. But theologians--they're historians as well, yeah? They understand context. It's part of the reason I loved Jesus the Christ and whatever classes they offered years ago in my stake that went into the nitty gritty (the stuff my institute director told me was "too deep" for my greenie convert self to handle. asshole) that they have, surprise! since discontinued.

In the end, however, you have to have faith. Faith, my old LDS Institute Friday Night Forum discussion said, even to turn on the fucking faucet.

I can accept some things. I have to accept some things: there is evidence for evolution. A lot of it. Science explains, proves, predicts. Every single one of us, I think, as a function of not knowing anything, have faith in science, though. We don't know how some things work, but we figure that someone does. Someone figured it out or will figure it out. We leave it to them. We have faith.

There is no solid evidence for god, which is what makes him/her/it an exclusive matter of faith. But people will still try. They point to the Bible, their personal spiritual experiences, speaking in tongues and crazy coincidences and feelings and by making maps and anthropology, digs and history, by reconstructing Noah's Ark. Even the Mormons, who by lip-service shy away from evidence because that's not with faith is, will seek evidence to prove something to their non-member friends and family. To convince themselves that their warm fuzzies have merit.

Because there's intuition, too. What does science say about intuition?

But while I can say with great confidence that there is no Santa who travels the world in a single night and drops off presents for all the good boys and girls, that there are no fairies (my teenage self sniffs), etc--I can't for sure say much more than that. I'm pretty certain god never sent an angel with a flaming sword to Joe Smith to threaten him with his life if he didn't marry a fourteen-year-old girl behind his wife's back, and despite how she will feel and what she says. I want nothing to do with a god who dismisses his daughters' feelings of self-worth for his own benefit.

Eric says science is better because I can look it up. I can find the answers. In religion, I have to feel out the answers, have faith in something that has little to no backup. Sure King Solomon had a temple--beyond that?

But even scientists don't know everything.

Faith is in that which you cannot look up. Faith in the divine is what seems to have constructed religion when there were no answers.

With time, answers come.

But, like myself, is it possible to ever know everything? Because if not, then what?

Then, I think, faith becomes a matter of trust.

I feel I behave as an atheist these days, but I still have these questions and need to know because I don't want to be duped again. My faith, however, needs to be in myself and not in some divine creature I know absolutely nothing about.

I can cherry-pick teachings and apply them to my life, but beyond that I can't dedicate myself to something divine anymore. And I know it's a bit of blasphemy for many that I want to know, but I do. I know I won't ever know enough to never need faith, but I'm struggling lately with the need to get there anyway.

At least that's how I feel this week.

Take out yr Bibles, plz.

At the hotel Eric and I stayed at during the weekend, we found the Gideon's Bible. So I checked it out. It wasn't my first time, but it was my first time as an apostate.

People, their little guides do nothing to bring souls to God. Fer realz. I especially love the highlighted scriptures that these people and so many others use to tell people they are trash and god is awesome. Just admit that and you're in!

Under "Practical Precepts" and "Consequences of Forgetting God" we find this bullshit:

(Hosea 4:1-11 for those righteous enough to follow along. Here are my favorite parts. Emphasis mine):

5 Therefore shalt thou fall in the day, and the prophet also shall fall with thee in the night, and I will destroy thy mother. 6 My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge: because thou hast rejected knowledge, I will also reject thee, that thou shalt be no priest to me: seeing thou hast forgotten the law of thy God, I will also forget thy children...11 Whoredom and wine and new wine take away the heart.

Yeah. Sounds awesome. Leave my kids out of this.

And while we're at it--knowledge?

Really?

I'm hoping I'm missing context here, but I've seen this stuff elsewhere.

Also, throw the "fact" that Mary Magdalene was the first to see Christ after his resurrection all you want but that doesn't erase the fact that every time something bad is mentioned in teh scriptures it's described as a whore, harlot, whatever. Misogyny at its very best.

Rock on, god.

SF Trip

There's so much to say, but for today I'm going to keep it to a short summary of my trip yesterday:

I was fortunate to meet Donna of Ward Gossip and a few other couples yesterday at a meeting of post-mormons at the Ferry Building in San Francisco. I'll admit I wasn't entirely sure what to expect and I think it took both my husband and I a moment to adjust.

SO WEIRD.

Blood and flesh and bone and whatever people bitching about the church! In front of me! Weird! I see it online all the time, but I never ever ever see or hear it in person. Not with knowledgeable people. Insiders. People who are obviously hurting. I feel so alone here, which is the reason for this blog--but there are others out there. It's so good to know.

We met next to a Peet's Coffee (and a book store--oh how I wish we had time and money!) and then Donna broke out the champagne to toast one of the absent members, who, I believe, just welcomed a new baby into the world (thank you for the champagne, Donna!). Eric and I were the youngest as far as how long it has been since we've gone inactive.

It is incredibly sad and maddening what the church does to its disenchanted members. It robs people of things both physical and not. It turns adults into children.

...Well, it treats its adults like children so I suppose that isn't entirely surprising.

I especially liked that Eric was able to vent a little bit. I wasn't sure if he'd jump in or not, but he really enjoyed himself.

My children stayed, as you know, with my SIL and headed off to church with them. I wondered how they'd do--namely if they'd be excited about it or want to go back.

The verdict? Abbie was more thrilled about the snacks and having her hair straightened and being virtual twins with her cousin. Church, she said with exasperation, was "boring!" But more specifically primary.

Jason didn't say much. Joseph told us that he learned about Jesus and had cookies. I wanted to ask him what he thought about Jesus, but as he didn't take it any further, I left it alone. It was late and he fell asleep in the car about five seconds later anyway.

When I checked all my stuff on the computer later that night, I discovered an email from H (Glenn Beck lovin' tea parting...you get the idea). She taught Joseph's class and said that he is just such a polite and nice boy and I must be doing something right!

Now my more cynical side says "for an apostate?" but I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. She means well. It was a compliment. As insane and extremist and naive as she is, she does always mean well and has always tried to be respectful. Sometimes I think we're more alike than not and that's why we butt heads. What tickles me is how I saw her a few weeks ago at my niece's birthday party and she said "hi" and left me alone for the rest of the time she was there. I dunno. She followed my last blog and after a while told me she couldn't handle it anymore. Happens.

But! good trip. Great people. Eric got to see more of San Francisco than he's ever seen--I can't believe he's never been through Golden Gate Park. Now he wants to take the kids there. On the way back, we drove through the Castro District (it's not hard to realize you're in the Castro District OR Haight-Ashbury--not the people so much, but the plethora of rainbow flags). Also saw where a friend of mine works and wanted to stop by, but we were late as it was. Next time.

Oh--one last thing. I'm 99.999% sure SIL and her husband know we don't go to church anymore. Apparently they decided to look through old boxes of their son's old church suits and dressed up my boys in it. God, I miss my boys and my man in a suit. So handsome. Anyway, as we were leaving Jason asked if he could keep the suit. I double-checked with SIL's husband and he said "y'know, it doesn't matter to me. I don't know how often you'll use them, but I don't care." It was clear he knew we just don't have a regular need for church clothes.

They're very cool about it. One reason I wasn't sure if she knew is because, historically, when she's upset she wears it on her sleeve but won't talk about it. She's been nothing but normal lately.

I don't know how we lucked out. Especially after hearing some of the stories at the group. Everyone needs my in-laws as their family. Their silence makes me nervous sometimes, and I'm sure they think it's just a phase as they've seen so often in others, but I'm grateful to not have to experience what so many have to experience. It really is awful--abusive and hateful and totally antithetical to what these members claim to embrace. These member families and friends are scared. I saw and experienced some of that from my own family when I joined. Being scared doesn't justify it or make it easier by any means, but it explains it a little. I hope for all of you who experience abusive reactions that time will help to heal, or that at the very least you'll find family and friends of your own who will be a support to you that you need. What I've lost is nothing compared to what others are losing.

As much as I enjoyed myself at the meeting yesterday, it made me wonder if I need more of a Post-Christianity group. As far as I could tell, everyone there was a lifetime member. As much as I embraced and internalized teh gospel, I've always known something else. I may have never wanted to go back to that, I may still be scared of it, but I've always known there was a world outside the church. And, not to say it the way it'll sound, I've always had a bit of a mind of my own. That's something.

Religion turns adults into scared little kids. I'm done with that shit.

<3

Animals on Logs

Y'all have to read this. It might piss a few of you off, but jesus:

From STFU Conservatives (I lurve the STFU tumblrs) regarding a Creation Museum exhibit:

Rafting
When the Flood destroyed the world's forests, it must have left billions of trees floating for centuries on the ocean. These log mats served as ready-made rafts for animals to cross oceans. These paths of ocean currents, carrying those rafts, would explain (similar animals and plants on opposite sides of oceans).

I'll let you all react on your own. I can't without sounding like a self-righteous bitch.

ANYWAY I saw my former Stake President the other day as my son and I entered a grocery store. One of the kindest men I know, but I freaked out. I avoided him so he wouldn't recognize me.

WTF, everyone? He's my ex-roomie's FIL. Surely he knows something? He wouldn't be anything but nice, I'm sure of it.

I dunno. I don't get it. There are very few people, if any, who elicit reactions like that from me anymore.

Also: Headed to the Post-Mo gathering tomorrow in San Francisco--looking forward to meeting Donna of the hilarious Ward Gossip, woo!

What's weird, though, is that my kids are staying with my SIL while we're gone. I love SIL to death, as some of you may know, but they're pretty stringent about church and stuff and the kids will be there tomorrow. They know they're going to church, and they're okay with it. Which is cool. I don't want to freak out. Abbie had a bit of a freak out at first, but I let her know it was okay. I don't want her to fear or hate believers (as long as they're respectful and don't tell her she's going to hell--because then it's on, bitches). But that doesn't mean I'm not uncomfortable with it. Maybe we'll talk about it the next day.

I wonder if my mom remembers as clearly as I do the day she asked me how I'd feel if my kids one day decided to be Jehovah's Witnesses. I told her I'd deal with it, which is all you can do, but I have the same thoughts today about whether they'll ever decide to "return to their roots" in a sense. I wouldn't know how to explain it to them, to warn them. This is just something you have to learn on your own, but it can be such a costly lesson.

They all remember church. The older two especially, but Joseph too. I fully expect for us to be outed this weekend, especially since Abbie has decided she looooves coffee and will tell anyone about it (she never gets more than a sip or two, but she loooves it). They'll likely also tell someone or a few someones in the family that we no longer attend or that she's not getting baptised (which is totally okay with her--she's never ever looked forward to that) since she'll turn eight in about six months.

It should be interesting. But good, too. They need other kids to play with.

For me, I'm just looking forward to a break. First I'm going to visit a friend and then hopefully hang with some awesome folks at the Ferry Building tomorrow close to the Wharf. You should stop by if you're close--the gathering will be from 2-4pm. I'll likely be the shortest chica in the room.

Yes.

I can't seem to see very much outside the frame of my relationship with religion these days, and this song is no different.

But it raises a different question: lyrics or music? I'm a lyrics girl, myself. But I do appreciate good music as well.

I Feel Weird
Steel Train, "Trampoline" (2007)

When I was eighteen everything was alive
Then the planes hit the towers
Then she died and he died
A part of me disappeared six feet in the ground
A million miles in the sky a fire burns,
A fire burns, a fire burns and it is mine

And I did what I did
What we did to survive
Five whole years of my life I spent mourning you and why?
Girl you're still alive
But you're too dead to keep inside
You take the years, you keep it all, I finally think I might be alright

So let's just let it all go cause nothing can change
And if something is lost then there's something to frame
I just sing what I have
And I got this girl, not yet crushed by the world
I'll count the freckles on her face one, two, three hundred times a day

And sing a new song
Something I'd never hear
It's better love that I found, bigger love that you fear
So deep inside me, hot in this frozen cave
Her fire burns, her fire burns, her fire burns and it is brave

When I was eighteen everything was alive
Then the planes hit the towers
Then she died, then he died
A part of me disappeared six feet in the ground
A million miles in the sky a fire burns,
A fire burns, and I just let it all go

I won't fear change
And if something is lost then there is something to frame
I'll just sing what I have in the heavens above
In the song in the sky a fire burns,
A fire burns, a fire burns and its for you

WTF, god?

I'm pretty empty of inspiration these days, and what I can get out of me doesn't end up all that cohesive. So I thought I'd take an oldie but a goodie from my livejournal account.

From August 10, 2009

I prided myself in my intuition, if you would call it that. Fellow LDS would consider it the spirit of discernment. I was a Mormon psychic, in a way. But I loved how I just knew things. I knew I'd be married before I could even put in my papers for a mission--and I knew I would marry Eric specifically before I even met him. I can't explain it. Not even now.

But this--this came only five months after Jason was born. Our little red Kia sped along Highway 680 to Oakland to participate in the temple endowment session; Eric was at the wheel, my eyes were fixed on the rolling landscape around us. The car was quiet.

Then, it seemed, the world around me slowed and cleared, and I knew I was supposed to have another baby. Soon.

Abbie was eight months old when we decided to have Jason. The pregnancy with Jason proved more difficult, probably by virtue of having a toddler around, still in diapers. Not to mention the severe case of baby blues I suffered with after he was born--we had just returned home from a hospital in Sacramento where Abbie underwent surgery and dealt with some complications. And my family was not as excited about Jason's arrival, so nobody was at the hospital. Jason came early, too, just by a week but enough to make it impossible. Eric had to work nights during that week, not to mention a full load at school. I was alone with a new baby. When Abbie was born, she was taken away at twelve hours old to a new hospital, and so I had no idea what to do with a newborn baby boy. The nurses certainly weren't of any help.

It became increasingly difficult to find a reason to get out of bed.

So with my revelation--almost as strong, if not stronger than the one I had regarding Eric--came astonishment. Add to the mix a very personal but very universe shattering experience I will not discuss here, and I just wanted to be done for a while. To be normal. To be a parent to the two kids I had--two kids I'm almost comfortable enough to say came from expectation and probably a dash of immaturity rather than so-called "revelation." This time I didn't want to be pregnant again. I didn't want to go through the bullshit.

But Eric said he had the same impression. Without my pressing for it.

We were taught to never question God's will, that the faithful follow without hesitation. I was a martyr, after all. It lent an air of strength, of resiliency. I had always taken a certain pride in doing impossible things, and this was in so many ways an impossible request. I figured the impression was so strong as to overshadow my doubt. This was a must.

Still, it brought me to tears and a few screaming sessions. I tried to rationalize something else. Maybe we could wait. God wouldn't want this for me. Not now. Besides, we couldn't afford it. Eric didn't have a job that would support three kids. His employer had just made it crystal clear his chances for promotion were slim to not-a-chance-in-hell. We had one car and lived in a small apartment. We struggled to get laundry done--so if we were to have another baby, we'd have to move. Again. Into a more expensive place.

But I sucked it up. This was my time, nobody else's, to pull up my pants, strap up my boots, and just do what God asked me to. After all, he'd asked more impossible things of others. This was a test of my faith.

Joseph arrived nine months later at 11:30am on the dot, December 26, 2005.

This was quite literally one of the hardest things I've ever had to even initiate on a few levels. But things worked out. A head clerk position opened up at the store for twice a week and Eric grabbed it right up. Then we took out a student loan to supplement our savings to buy a mini van. And we moved only three months after Joseph's arrival into another two bedroom apartment (couldn't afford a three) with a washer and dryer.

The following June, I found myself getting three hours of sleep a night and writhing under the pain of daily migraines. I had little to no help since Eric was gone all the time, either sleeping, at school, or studying. I had to deal with this alone, and the kids suffered because of it. I was worrying about when we would be able to get into a bigger place, trying to control things I had absolutely no control over. But I couldn't stop. I had to know if we could move in a year, if he would get a job, I wanted a house, etc, etc. This went on for months, but it wasn't until late July, desperate, I decided to see a doctor. I wanted to know if she'd give me some muscle relaxers. I'd been to see her six months prior for sinus headaches, but the sinus headaches always blossomed into migraines. And I wasn't sleeping. It wasn't fair to the kids, not at all.

Instead, and after listening to my stories, she determined I had Generalized Anxiety Disorder and put me on Cymbalta.

It was like a revelation. I was outgoing, chatty, and not afraid anymore. I didn't feel compelled to control everything anymore. I had more patience with the kids, with Eric, and with myself. And although the manic-like honeymoon period lasted only a week or so, I still felt great. In time, however, I discovered I suffered a side effect I didn't want to live with (I drenched myself in sweat just by unloading the dishwasher--no exaggeration). So I went back to my doctor. She placed me on Wellbutrin which only made things worse.

I went through at least four different pills. After the Wellbutrin I discovered the pills would only work for a little while. I kept going back.

"This isn't working."

"Okay, let's try this," my doctor would say.

Finally, and only about four months ago, I threw my arms in the air. Nothing was working. In a bout of desperation I went to a counselor who suggested I was to my ears in depression.

I went to my doctor, who has known me for some years now, with that knowledge and she wondered aloud if I could be bipolar. I dismissed her with a wave--no, I said. i've never experienced a manic episode.

Of course, to my knowledge, bipolar was the extreme. People who jumped off cliffs and did stupid scary shit all the time. But on my drive home from that appointment, things came to my mind: times I had needed little to no sleep, times I hurt myself on purpose to make the anger and hurt go away, racing thoughts and words, compulsions, obsessions--unbearable forgetfulness. Times I felt I could do anything only for it to go away the next week. Times I woke up early and spring-cleaned the entire house before 7:30 in the morning. Times of uncharacteristic and sudden aggression. Times I often forget about so I write them down. I have to remember.

So I went home and I researched it out and discovered the different kinds of bipolar. In tears, I called a friend of mine whom I've known for a while now who suffers from the mental disorder.

"I've wondered about you for a while," she said. "I just didn't want to say anything."

Eric said the same thing.

I called my doctor. "What's that you said about bipolar?"

"Let's just try something, okay?" she said.

And while I'm not 100%, I'm better.

But still: All this fun stuff after the supposed revelation from god. It was bad enough before, but manageable. I could've worked with that. It became scary only after I toyed with my individual limit, only after I deigned to follow what I believed was god's will.

I don't want anymore of his revelations if this is what it means. It's affected my family negatively. It brought me from being an overanxious but patient mother of one to a bipolar mother of three.

And though I wouldn't consider this an active part of my disaffection, it's yet another thing for me to be angry about. What is the point of hearing from God if it brings me to this low?

Why would I want to hear any more?

Oh how far we've come.

About 18 months ago, I took a quiz: What Kind of Mormon Are You?

I got this result:

Sunstone Mormon

-4 Orthodoxy, 4 LDS knowledge, -5 Cultural homogeneity

---

Orthodoxy ranges from (-) anti-, non- and liberal Mormon, to mainstream, conservative, and fundamentalist Mormon (+).

You're on the cutting edge of LDS progressivism. You believe scholarship and change would benefit the LDS Church, but you realize that your place in Mormonism is marginal.



Noted?

So I was going over my last blog yesterday, rediscovered this quiz, and thought I'd take it again for kicks to see how I've changed with regard to it. This was my new result:

Son of Perdition

-11 Orthodoxy, 5 LDS knowledge, -16 Cultural homogeneity

---

Orthodoxy ranges from (-) anti-, non- and liberal Mormon, to mainstream, conservative, and fundamentalist Mormon (+).

Chances are good that you enjoy the category this quiz put you in. You enjoy thinking about screwing on LDS property. Sometimes you bust out arcane LDS doctrine just to blow some Mormon minds. Missionaries are baffled that you could know so much about their church yet reject it entirely. You hate Mormonism and love every minute of it.

Interesting. Though I don't think I'd like to screw on LDS property. That's a bit too dirty for me, thx. And I'm not exactly the angry anti-type unless I run into an asshole. Even then, I know there's nothing I can do and it's a waste of my energy. Also, my FIL houses the sister missionaries. I do like to mess with them, but only subtly and only when they start in on me. They think there's a chance for us and when they express sentiments I like to put in a few words here and there to let 'em know we're not fresh meat. They're very nice, though. Really, I don't mind them at all when they're not waxing poetic about church--and even then, it depends on what they're talking about. After last conference, the last thing I wanted to hear was how inspiring it was. So, really, for sisters, they seem pretty normal

Rather than waste my time in endless LDS debate, I'd rather just have a drink and watch some rated-R movies. Not for the violence, no, but for the sex.

Of course.