I've Been a Bad, Bad Girl

What makes a person good? Not good as in the opposite of “evil.” I mean good, as in shining-from-the-inside, nice-to-old-ladies, concerned-for-the-homeless kind of good. And not one of those annoying over-the-top smiley people. Those are the ones that end up having people locked in their basement. They are all surface.

I have met a few people in my life so far that seem to radiate a certain calm that I myself could never approach. As a teenager, a time of life when typical girls resemble little more than beak-faced harpies without the cuddly demeanor, I knew a girl that made me feel as if I were the smartest person she knew. And she did this with everyone! You couldn’t fake that kind of authenticity. Like a guest Gil had a couple of years ago. Ashlei Williams, aka the rapper REIGN, is a young, gorgeous Oakland Police officer who just happens to also be a Christian hip-hop artist. She’s also got a great vibe, a strong spiritual presence, and that calm I talked about. I take a look at REIGN, and my friend from high school, and I am awed by how good they seem, or are. But here’s the rub—that can’t be the only way to be good.

I believe in karma; if not the strict Buddhist type of karma, then the notion that what you put out, you get back. If I put out good energy and acceptance, I will be on the receiving end of the same. This is fine in theory, right? But how does one keep from being petty, or angry, or catty, 24-7? How can a person avoid envy and jealousy? How is it possible to struggle with addictions and loss and pain, as many people do, and still worry about the energy you’re putting out? It isn’t. And that’s OK, I swear. All we can do is try as hard as we can to bring one little patch of respect and tolerance to our current circumstances, to our present-day world, in the short term; and work, every day, for a better long term.

I believe that the Gods, or God, or karma, or Insert-Deity-Here, that they can see our hearts. What’s inside—the mess of intentions and knowledge and repercussions that starts churning whenever we make a questionable decision or spread rumors or lie to people we love. I believe that while I am prickly and have been known, at different stages in my life, as a drunk, a bitch, a nerd, and a smartass—I believe that the fact that I am also known for my loyalty, organizational capability, and whip-smart sense of humor should balance the cosmic scale a bit. Our Gods have to know when we are incapable of digging ourselves out of a hole, and they give us the tools to fix it. And that makes us good people. Maybe not shining-holy-light-from-within good, but good all the same.

Originally written 3.08

Contemplate the Cosmos With Me

I had the chance to revisit the movie "Contact" last night. Based on the Carl Sagan book, it's Jodie Foster as a scientist who is on the receiving end of a message from outer space and ends up on the single coolest wormhole-roller-coaster-ride ever. In between those two events is a seriously intriguing tug-of-war between religious faith and scientific empiricism. This movie blew my mind when I first saw it 11 years ago; 20 years old, and unclear as to how to give voice to my increasing skepticism about the universe as most people knew it. Humans can't be the end all and be all of intelligent life. How sad that would be, right?

As "Contact" makes clear, us, alone in the universe, is an "awful waste of space." Simplistic yet plainly true, considering the probabilities involved. Infinite large rocks in infinite universes, something's got to live on one of them. The question of God is not nearly so susceptible to statistical analysis. What everyone (fundamentalists, zealots, and atheists alike) needs to realize is that we all have a similar purpose--to make sense of that which is beyond us.

That which is beyond the human experience and realm of knowledge. Scientists are constantly looking for answers to tough questions; faith attempts to do the same thing. Whether you believe that God is the creator of the universe, or that praying to Demeter will help your crops, or that Kali wears a necklace of bones; if you believe that carbon is the reason we're here, or that we're here to prepare for the afterlife (which, by the way, seems like a way of wussing-out on actual living); and even if you believe that nature bats last, like I do, and that there is divinity in each person and flower and day of sunshine.

We, as humans, are designed to look beyond ourselves and we constantly strive to understand that which is unknowable. Or, as yet, unknown. That's what makes us a fascinating tribe.

Originally written 2.08

If You're Mormon, You Might Want to Look Away

We had an "Ask a Mormon!" segment on the Gil Gross program a while back, cooked up by Gil to disseminate information about the Mormon Church. Mitt Romney's not screwing around when it comes to being President, so we figured we might as well try to get to the bottom of a confusing and relatively new Christian sect. I'm all for information-spreading, because I think everyone should have their biases and preconceived notions challenged, regularly. However.

I had a Mormon step-dad for 10 years, and had a bit of an insider look at how part-time Mormons conduct themselves. At least how the part-time Mormon in my life conducted himself. He was sexist and a bit racist; congenial up to a point, then bitter and petty when "slighted." He was repressed, both sexually and emotionally. Women were for child-spawning to him, which makes me wonder why in the hell he married my mother in the first place (I am her one and only kid, and she wanted it to stay that way.) And in the end, when he couldn't get my mother to bow to his whims, he went back to his church. To the church that taught him what women were for. The church that taught him to spread the word of his God as far and wide as he could on the "mission" they sent him on at 18.

A lot of these things can be said of non-Mormons, obviously. But what crosses the line, for me, is the approach Mormons (and Jehovah's Witnesses, for that matter) take in order to spread their word. I don't walk up to someone's house and start mouthing off about how gay people deserve equal rights in everything that they do; or that I have the right to abort my fetus if I want; and I don't bend people's ears about my faith in a nature-based Goddess and a Wheel of the Year and that all gods and goddesses are aspects of the same power.

The first rule of any sort of spirituality or religion should be to keep it to yourself. I don't care that you have the "true path" to salvation. I don't care if you're concerned about my soul. I don't care if you think that my beliefs are a surefire way to end up in a flaming handbasket, hurtling towards Hell. And I will not tolerate uninvited drop-by's. Luckily I learned the "turn-the-lights-off-and-duck-behind-the-couch" routine at a young age; the rub comes along when your own stepfather send missionaries to your house when he knows you and your mom are home. And then they drop his name to get into the house. And I'm not even going to go into the ridiculousness of the attempt to convert people in their own homes. It took centuries of bloody wars to eradicate paganism, and Christians still wonder why they were lion meat in Rome. Because people don't like being converted by rampant proselytizers!

Faith and spirituality are deeply personal things. It's what keeps you afloat when you feel like you're drowning, it's what connects you to the world at large and the people on this planet. It lends perspective and relief in times of crisis. And it should! We need to know that we are part of something bigger than us, bigger than politics and thievery and hunger and disease. Bigger than capitalism and racism and bigotry. That we can be more than simply human. This is a struggle that each of us undertakes, and not one that should be tidied up within the framework of religious dogma. This life, on this planet, right now, has too much joy and mystery to offer to spend all of your time waiting until you die for it to get good.

Originally written 12.07