Letting Go

Earlier in the week, I learned an important lesson. The effect was an abrupt about-face that revealed my own flaws and also granted me an opportunity to gain greater wisdom. For over a year, I have been actively involved in almost every aspect of the Young Adult Friend group at my Monthly Meeting. Being so closely invested in the process has provided me a sense of satisfaction and greater purpose. At long last, I have found a way to put my leadership skills to good use and, for the most part, my mental health has cooperated. And I've also gotten a chance to see the direct result of my hard work, which is one of the most gratifying feelings I have ever experienced in my life. Many toil for years in similar circumstances with nothing physically tangible to show for it. The ultimate credit, of course, is not mine to take but I couldn't help but feel pride in the creation.

This life lesson comes complete with an issue that can be ascribed exclusively to simple misunderstanding. For those who are not Friends, a person in a group leadership position, one similar to a committee chairman, is known as a clerk. Months ago, the clerk's position was offered to a friend of mine. She asked me to assist her with the work, and understanding well the need for a Young Adult Friend group, I threw myself into the task. I did not, in the beginning, seek a formal title, but as my strategies and hers began to succeed, I made an assumption that I might as well be co-clerk in all but name. It wasn't until recently that she revealed that she never saw me in that role. Hearing that was very painful. I don't intend to dwell on this more than I must, but I will briefly state that a more adequate system of regular communication would not have let this misunderstanding persist for as long as it did.

Quakers usually shy away from direct confrontation and are known to pursue almost every other avenue instead. She and other Friends believed, erroneously, that I wanted sole control, whereas that thought never crossed my mind. Instead, I just wanted to ensure that the framework which had been painstakingly crafted between the two of us would persist with new leadership. It does take a leap of faith sometimes if you've seen the way things once were and you fear their return. The two of us literally built the group from the ground up.

The entire dialogue reveals volumes. I've always been the sort of person exasperated with those who stand in the way of needed reform. Whole posts and columns I've written show evidence of this. But in a particularly ironic twist, I recognized that I had, in some ways, become that which I had once heavily criticized. I wasn't covetous of my influence, just cautious and suspicious of the leadership abilities of others. When you've done something well that is succeeding, it's tough to hand over the reigns of power to someone else, even if it is for everyone's benefit.

Some Friends felt that I wished to consolidate power and control into my own hands, but this was not the case. Without sufficient understanding, which can only come through regular correspondence, misunderstanding are inevitable. Instead, we were completely talking past one another. In a ideal situation, the clerk and I would have kept in more frequent e-mail correspondence and even met face-to-face periodically. Without knowing me and my real motives well enough, two Friends in particular assumed that I might stand in the way of a more equitable sharing arrangement. This was a misconception I had to take much time to refute prior to the actual meeting itself.

People in our society compartmentalize too much of their lives. I think this is especially true for all the Type A, super achiever sorts of people who are drawn to cities like DC. Work goes in the work box. School goes in the school box. Friends go in the friend box. Spirituality goes in the spirituality box. And that arrangement might make life temporarily easier, but it means that we always appear two-dimensional to those we encounter in life. With an insufficient perspective, we form conclusions and opinions about each other which are not correct. That is the real problem here.

It is true that over the past several months I have become much more influential in the greater Meeting. I routinely share vocal ministry in worship. I'm a member of a committee which rarely grants membership to someone as young as I am in years. To be selected, at my age, was a great honor. I would not have been the first choice of many. It was a very unorthodox selection. My presence is felt in many places, and I am grateful for what I have carved out for myself. I am doing God's work and I enjoy the way that it makes me feel.

In keeping with that, for all that I do, I may as well be a clerk. I merely wanted some acknowledgement for what I had done, by means of a title. To be told that my equal contribution with the designated clerk was not honored in this fashion offended me greatly. But again, I have put those feelings aside now. I'm no longer angry or disappointed. I use this example merely to illustrate my greater point. In some ways, it was an ego bruise. I never saw myself as a dictator, but I did see myself as the person who kept everything up and running. Self-satisfaction comes from feeling a part of something larger than oneself and is the most gratifying byproduct of hard work I can imagine. While it's true that Quakers aren't supposed to seek titles since they distract from greater equality, silly though it may be, I would have liked to have that one attached to my name: Friend Camp, clerk.

A meeting of the core group of YAFs who regularly attend almost every function was convened Monday night to thresh out a new leadership model. The rough consensus of those gathered was to instead divide tasks once the exclusive purview of myself and the clerk between multiple Young Adult Friends. The model proposed would create a leadership group of four people who would agree to take on specifics tasks and obligations between them. Under this proposal, there would no longer be an official clerk's position. This is an intriguing model and one I think is worth trying out.

Adding new blood to the organizational structure is a good idea. I believe that this arrangement will be an interesting exercise, but its ultimate success or failure is to be determined. I admit I am protective of what has been accomplished prior to now. Had I arrived to find myself in the midst of a well-oiled machine, I should have no reservations at all. But I've become emotionally invested into the process, which is both good and bad. In this situation, I know that I should probably give most, if not all of this worry to God and let him sort it out. That's going to be the greatest challenge of all. My friend Faith has written a post along these same lines.

R U Lonely?

When all the nights are dreams
And not really what they seem
I cut my hair in spite
And set my hands on fire

Are you lonely?
Are you lonely?
Are you lonely?

In the daylight hours
I go out and kill the flowers
Faces all too clear
Keep on looming near

Are you lonely?
Are you lonely?
Are you lonely?

Daily Living in the Image of God

Growing up, I was told that we were created in God’s image. But no one really explained the concept to me. I assumed that God was static, unchanging, and altogether perfect. To the best of my knowledge, it had always been this way. Was my behavior to resemble this as well? Any number of theological loose ends was never tied up, either from ignorance or theological neglect. Sometimes it is easier to say nothing than to risk the potential offense provided by the truth. Fast asleep is a comfortable place for many, particularly in houses of worship and everyday communities which are deathly afraid of change.

It is easy to make the assumption that people do not ever change for the better. Until we can no longer believe that our enemy is incapable of reform, we will, in part, extend the same attitude towards ourselves. We will doubt our own capabilities and might even consider abandoning our efforts as a lost cause. The byproduct of any protracted siege is negativity, suspicion, and mistrust between both parties of an ongoing dispute. Religious or not, we worship our own deity. We have dug in our opposite sides. And like that same God, we expect no miracles, no breakthroughs, and no surprises.

But, contrary to what we might believe, God does change. A strong distinction exists between the Old Testament covenant and the New Testament covenant brought forth by Jesus. Before, animal sacrifice and religious law based on works were demanded. Noncompliance was an offense sometimes punishable by death itself. A New Covenant present in the form of Jesus, love, and grace replaced that which had come before it. Now, no amount of exhaustive effort can grant us greater favor with God. There is no hierarchy of salvation. It is granted towards any and all who might seek it, and, should you believe it, attaining the Kingdom of God is the grand reward.

The Old Testament Yahweh, as many have noted, is often a fickle God, prone towards destruction, often having to be talked out of eliminating whole tribes, nations, and individual sinners for their transgressions. We can easily resemble Yahweh in our dealings with others. Created in his image, we can judge harshly, threaten punishment, project anger, and respond impulsively. What we do to others speaks more loudly than what we think of ourselves as we do it.

People can change for the better. I am an example of that, though I am nowhere near the only one. I was at times irresponsible in how I treated my body. I smoked cigarettes for slightly over a decade, even though I caught every cold that came through. We can also be injurious to others. Paul of Tarsus’ dramatic conversion saw a self-righteous persecutor of Christians transformed into the faith’s most influential and eloquent champion. And on a related note, Alcoholics Anonymous and other programs that utilize its basic twelve step model retain a reliance on a Higher Power. If it were not a success it would not have persisted for as long as it has. Yet how long does it take anyone who is chemically addicted to truly seek help and reach out to others. Communal goodwill, by any name, heals the wounds and battle scars we all carry with us.

Others have seen the Light with time, maturity, and contemplation. It is not our role to judge another’s arc towards greater development. We do not understand even a fraction of the life of someone else, even those we know well, so our opinions are routinely based on insufficient evidence. Yahweh may have been brutal in his dealings, but he always at least knew in totality, not in part. As it it written, "Don't sin by letting anger control you. Don't let the sun go down while you are still angry." When that happy moment of clarity should arrive for whomever it shall be, it is cause for celebration. Its departure often signals the end of anger as well. Since societies are comprised of individuals, so too is our communal progress measured in ways we may never really comprehend.

Jesus tells this short parable to illustrate a similar conclusion. As a brief aside, this was one of my favorites as a child.

"Or suppose a woman has ten coins and loses one of them. She lights a lamp, sweeps the house, and searches carefully until she finds it, doesn't she? When she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me, because I have found the coin that I lost!' In the same way, I tell you that there is joy in the presence of God's angels over one sinner who repents."

Here is a helpful commentary that may be of aid to you.

I see this woman as typical of many who are forced to work here in Palestine and all over the world. Life is hard for men who are poor, but even more so for women. The tale that women are taken care of by their husbands is a patriarchal myth. For example, to survive a person needs 200 denarii a year. A working father with a wife and six children would need additional income. This means that women are forced to work and give the money to their husbands.

The economic contribution of the woman is necessary for the survival of the family. And if they are widows with children it is even more necessary for them to work day and night. Even worse, women receive much lower salaries than men. A woman earns half of what a man earns in a day so she needs to work twice as long and twice as hard to earn the same amount. Many children work from the time they are six years old, which is another great injustice.

We should not be satisfied with our own efforts towards greater equality, but we should recognize that its distribution, much like wealth, is exceptionally uneven. Despite our global initiatives and measuring sticks, time, like God, reminds a mystery. We can fight the greater unknowable, or we can make room for it along with our calculations.

Here's an example. This past weekend was Pride weekend here in DC. If, for example, we begin with Stonewall and look forward, the difference between then and now is extremely prominent. If we start with Betty Friedan and observe our world today, we can scarcely believe certain ideas and customs went unchallenged for as long as they did. But there is one crucial element that must inform all our thinking: hope. Without hope, nothing is possible. Much may have spewed from Pandora's Box with time, but let us not forget that hope is the salve and the tool we must keep close nearby.

I know I’ve noted the lyrics of this song a time or two before, but I return to it here once more. As someone who has grown discouraged with life from time to time and who has felt completely alone, the words always bring tears to my eyes.

When you walk through the storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark

Walk on, through the wind
Walk on, through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Quote of the Week

"Advertising is the art of convincing people to spend money they don't have for something they don't need."- Will Rogers

What Is Our Greater Purpose?

Originally written to a specific feminist community, but most of this will be comprehensible to all readers.
_________________________

I’ve very much enjoyed a recent series of posts on the main page. Each asks us, the readers, for our feedback in the comments section. What others share is interesting and often inspiring and it also allows me the ability to better understand those who might otherwise forever be a screen name and an avatar graphic. I know many of you semi-well from your previous commentary and your own blogs, but I can’t say I know any of you extremely well. Regarding the editors and contributors, they have a greater platform and I feel I know them to some extent, but I also concede that I might well walk past them on the street and never make the connection. This is to say that there are great strengths with internet activism, but here are a few of the unfortunate limitations of the medium.

On to other subjects. Those who have read my Community Posts for any length of time know that I am a person of faith. When I entered this space several months ago, I felt a strong compulsion to instantly understand the issues routinely discussed here. Male ally work struck a chord with me; I took it on as a personal challenge. But with time, I came to understand that a combination of curiosity and drive, no matter how noble the sentiment, was not the largest reason of all. What follows may leave me open for some criticism, but I’ll risk it.

With time I came to understand that my purpose here went well beyond myself. God told me that Feministing was where I needed to be. This doesn’t mean that I arrived with the intention of saving souls and winning converts. Nor does it mean that I believed it my duty to infuse a predominately secular place with a heaping dose of teh Jesus. In all honesty, at first I wasn’t sure my being here would do much good at all. There were multiple concepts and specific causes advanced of which I was mostly ignorant. I didn’t understand a whole lot and I wasn’t sure what I was meant to say, or even meant not to say. But with time, I found my place here and I found my voice. As much as I wish I could take credit for that process, I know I cannot. With Divine guidance, I have accomplished more here than I could ever have done by myself. This is not me seeking modesty and humility. I know that I have been able to rely on the Spirit to write posts, form comments, and glean insight that came from a place beyond myself.

I know I speak before an audience of many religious skeptics. This is not an unfamiliar place for me to be. In much of my activism work in the place where I worship, I keep company with the religiously squeamish or the spiritual refugee. I, as a Quaker, am always supposed to speak to my own condition. Or, in so many words, I speak for no one’s experience but my own. A particularly inspiring passage from the early Friends, written more than 400 years ago, always comes to my mind when I write for a broad audience. Do pardon the archaic language of its time.

You will say, ‘Christ saith this, and the apostles say this;’ but what canst thou say? Art thou a child of the Light, and hast thou walked in the Light, and what thou speakest, is it inwardly from God?”

This opened me so, that it cut me to the heart; and then I saw clearly we were all wrong. So I sat down in my pew again, and cried bitterly: and I cried in my spirit to the Lord, “We are all thieves; we are all thieves; we have taken the scriptures in words, and know nothing of them in ourselves.”

This is a challenge of orthodoxy and of dogma. It refuses to accept that only one interpretation is sufficient and wholly justified. As feminists, we are actively encouraged to share our own personal experiences as a means of group unity. Though this phrase would not have been in use during the time of Shakespeare, one could make a strong case that, in worship, consciousness-raising was the intent, not the repetition of some single standard to be held by everyone. Every Meeting for Worship I attend is filled by the voices of those who feel led by the Spirit to share ministry. Anyone who feels a strong compulsion to speak has the right to do so and is actively encouraged. If our worship took the form of a Feministing post, every person who rose to speak would, in effect, post his or her own comment. And at the end of an hour’s time, we would have an interesting and varied collection of different voices to enhance our own understanding of God and God’s revelation to the individual and to the collective body.

We may not necessarily be religious believers, but we are believers in a particular philosophy. In some ways, Feminism does resemble a religion of a sort. Feminism has its own nomenclature, its own purpose, its own word to spread, and those who passionately oppose it. We even feel similarly persecuted by an uncomprehending public who misappropriates our positions on a frequent basis. I would challenge us to always rise to the challenge when our beliefs are distorted or overly simplified, but to also understand that we must eventually forgive those who we now consider enemies. Forgiveness is not a get-out-of-jail-free card. It is a means of moving on with our lives without needlessly retaining the poison of bitterness. The stumbling block of those who wrong others is pride. The stumbling block of those who are wronged is bitterness.

Friends seek to emulate the example of their founder.

Regarding this particularly famous quote from George Fox, “Walk cheerfully over the world, answering to that of God in everyone”: The word “cheerfully,” in addition to the way we use it, had another meaning in 17th century England. It meant “encouragingly” (this is the way The Bard used it) as in our modern sense of “to cheer someone on.” If I were to paraphrase a small part of Fox’s message it might go something like this: “Always be examples of your best conduct and behavior where ever you are. Then you will come to walk through the world, encouraging others to do likewise.

I can’t think anything more Feminist and empowering than that.

Saturday Video

My friends all tell me,
Go to him, run to him,
Say sweet, lovely things to him,
And tell him he's the one

Deep in my heart, I know it
But it's so hard to show it
'Cause it's easier, easier said than done

My buddies tell me,
Fly to him, sigh to him,
Tell him I would die for him,
And tell him he's the one

Although he gives me a feeling
That sets my heart a-reeling,
Yet it's easier, easier said than done

Well, I know that I love him so
But I'm afraid that he'll never know
Because I, I get so timid and shy
Each time that I look him in the eye

They all tell me,
Sing to him, swing with him,
And just do anything for him,
And tell him he's the one

I got a love so true
And yet I'm sad and blue
'Cause it's easier, easier said than done

Well, I know that I love him so
But I'm afraid that he'll never know
Because I, I get so timid and shy
Each time that I look him in the eye

They all tell me,
Sing to him, swing with him,
And just do anything for him,
And tell him he's the one

I got a love so true
And yet I'm sad and blue
'Cause it's easier, easier said than done

Easier
Said than done

Alabama's Brain Drain

The state of Alabama on Thursday passed the strictest illegal immigration legislation imaginable. In November, Republicans took formal control of both the state House and Senate for the first time since Reconstruction. However, this by itself was not necessarily the determining factor to ensure passage. Until this session, a majority of very conservative Democrats by in large peopled both chambers. But, back then, there were enough voices present who held other ideological views to push back against reactionary bills like this one. Even with the prior legislative balance of power, sentiments like these often found political favor. In an economically poor state desperate to find a scapegoat to explain recent financial woes, it was only a matter of time before migrant Latino workers were targeted. When all else fails, find someone different than you to blame.

If anyone should ask, Why did this happen?, I have at least a partial answer.

I spent my entire childhood, plus a majority of my adult life in the state of Alabama. Two years ago, I was requested to attend my tenth high school reunion. My memories of the time are not especially fond, so I declined. By means of a Facebook page established to confirm who would be present or not present, I discovered that roughly half of my classmates had no intention of attending themselves and now lived elsewhere. Though I have no way of knowing this for certain, I would be very surprised if they ever returned to the state of their birth and upbringing. This is unfortunate for the state and fortunate for whatever region or city they now call home. Alabama might as well be only a breeding ground for everyone else's raw talent.

The Brain Drain is substantial. And it even has historical precedent. Alabama is eager to claim famous people as one of its own, but many of them only lived in the state for short periods of time. In a slightly earlier era, the state was well-known for being the birthplace of many notable African-American athletes, musicians, and entertainers. Many left the South behind altogether, heading for the North in the Great Migration. Seeking the promise of a better life for themselves, they can hardly be blamed for departing. The athletes Joe Louis and Willie Mays and the musician Nat "King" Cole are only three such examples. There are many others. Now the Great Migration has no distinction for race.

Progressive voices rarely stick around any longer than necessary and for similar reasons. I'm one of them, though I stayed long enough to be thoroughly and completely disgusted. The only people willing to run for elective office and to be involved in shaping policy are the same backslapping good old boys (and sometimes gals). And until Alabama can preserve and maintain its own ample reserves of talent, it will always stay behind the curve. I left, after staying consistently sickened by regressive attitudes. My own Great Migration was to a place where people thought like me, for once. I should also note that both of my parents, also natives, actively encouraged me to leave the state should I wish to do so. My mother once confessed to me that she'd stuck around in the hopes that Alabama would reform itself, but knew now, later in life, that she had been wrong.

At the beginning of the Health Care Reform debate, itself nearly two years ago, I went home for a time and attended a Town Hall Meeting. The event was held by my local Republican Congressman, Spencer Bachus. Those of us who were supportive of Health Care Reform were outnumbered roughly 30 or 40 to 1. And after observing the attitudes, fears, and opinions of most people in attendance, I quickly began to realize that Health Care Reform was not necessarily being debated. Participants wanted to talk about Immigration as well, and rope it in to a long list of grievances. Rep. Bachus encouraged a broader discussion because it served his own purposes well. For him, coming down hard against "illegals" was a win-win situation. The de facto minister of this event, this topic allowed him to preach to the choir. It was a particularly nauseating means of harvesting the low hanging fruit. Though no one was yet using the phrase "Tea Party", I was seeing its formation and gestation.

A postcard in a shop on Southside, Birmingham's liberal, bohemian part of town displays a revealing message. "Welcome to Alabama", it says. "Please set your clocks back seven years." Now that I live elsewhere, I appreciate and understand even more this clever bit of snark. If things are to really change, people must be convinced to not fly the coop at the soonest available opportunity. And until that day, keep in mind the determining factors that go into shaping absolutely excessive bills like this one. Simple ignorance knows no bounds. Offensive ideas persist until they are challenged directly, not just by organizations like the ACLU or the Southern Poverty Law Center who always intervene in such instances. But you couldn't pay me enough to return, either. My fate rests elsewhere now.

Social Commentary (NSFW)

One

Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same?

Will it make it easier on you?
Now you got someone to blame

You say

One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night

One love
We get to share it
It leaves you baby
If you don't care for it

Did I disappoint you?
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without

Well it's too late
Tonight
To drag the past out
Into the light

We're one
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other

One

Have you come here for forgiveness?
Have you come to raise the dead?
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head?

Did I ask too much?
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got

We're one
But we're not the same

We hurt each other
Then we do it again

You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law

Love is a temple
Love the higher law

You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got

When all you got is hurt

One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should

One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers

One life
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other

One.

One.

Sex and Puritanism: The Anthony Weiner Story

I reluctantly write about the mess that is the Anthony Weiner Story because it seems unimportant to significant issues. Or, to qualify, there are aspects of it that are pertinent, but we aren't talking about them. We have an opportunity here towards greater understanding, if only the media narrative would reflect it. The most persistent lesson of them all is that a life in the public eye provides no privacy. The greatest aspect of the entire story of Rep. Weiner and his internet flirtations might be how internet discourse appears entirely private, but in reality could not be any less so. In another time, had Weiner exchanged pictures with random women through the mail, he might have been more easily able to cover up his behavior. Or at least it would have been easier to pay off a mistress or two. The ease of internet technology is a double edged sword. I wonder if the impulsively sexual Warren Harding, Woodrow Wilson, or Franklin Roosevelt could have been able to keep their affairs a secret in today's world.

Politicians and notable people have been consistently felled by allegations of sexual misconduct. In the movie Citizen Kane, Charles Foster Kane loses the governor's race when it is publicly revealed he is having an affair. However, unlike Congressman Weiner, at least based on what I've read up until now, the character of Kane strays from a marriage that might as well be only for show. The love and joy of that pairing departed years before, and Kane maintains the facade to seem as though he is a consummate family man. Should those details have reached the public today, instead of around the turn of the last century, I'm fairly certain we would be more sympathetic. Even so, I've personally known my share of loveless marriages which have persisted due to factors that have absolutely nothing to do with devotion and affection and everything to do with convenience and expediency.

Each and every time a man in a position of power cheats, to whatever degree, we become fixated on the motives of the offending male. The same interrogatives are asked. Can men control their sexual impulses? Is this conduct instead the result of poor morals and a lack of self-restraint? If we are only speaking of the pictures the Congressman sent, and not a particularly nervous press conference, I think that there's a certain aspect of exhibitionism to the practice. Sexual expression in a still-repressive society like ours contains a particular appeal that invokes both horror and thrill. We are doing something labeled wrong and against the rules. Though I have only occasionally revealed this to anyone, online or not, I once took a handful of compromising pictures of myself and e-mailed them to a woman I was dating at the time. I took a risk in doing so, but I trusted her. My trust in her was rewarded when I learned recently that post-breakup, she deleted them. That was very fortunate for me. However, I'm aware that once I clicked send, my control over those images was no longer in my hands. I don’t regret my decision, but I do know the potential consequences of my actions.

I recognize this example is in some ways a different one altogether, but I include it to discuss the nature of our own secret sexual lives. I could very easily take this opportunity to express my deep regret and warn each of you reading this against doing what I did. This could be my own contrite, uncomfortable press conference, whereby I guiltily speak every line whilst mopping my brow with a handkerchief. And that would be an acceptable means of absolution, but I somehow don't feel as though I need to be forgiven. It was chancy, yes, but like I said, I did it knowing full well the consequences. If my profile was considerably larger than it is today, I probably would not have done so.

Though we may feign otherwise, we seek talisman from those who are famous, in the form of autographs, clothing, or anything that captures their images or their very presence. That which we admire we covet. We may despise someone, but we'll still paradoxically bid to buy memorabilia pertinent to his or her life. Business recognizes the demand and the need, so it thoughtfully provides the conduits and channels for us to live vicariously through our stars and heroes. At a price, of course. Always at a price.

So I ask you this. Let us suppose you began speaking with someone who has a degree of renown and popular acclaim. Let us further suppose this conversation became flirtatious. If, shortly thereafter, a semi-nude picture of your personal hero arrived by e-mail, how would you respond? I know many would have no complaints at all. In addition, I’m fairly certain that sending a nude or semi-nude picture back to someone in whom we were interested, whether it was requested or not would be at least seriously considered by many. We are willing to do so much for our partners and few of us can resist the chase once it has begun. Nothing in the Anthony Weiner Story proclaims that non-consensual conduct was at play here. I’m not as concerned about the adultery-by-electronic-media aspect as I am seeking to address our Puritanical knee-jerk.

I get the feeling here that people aren’t exactly sure what to say about this topic. This isn’t a story that pulls our righteous indignation trigger finger, thus beginning the firing squad. Not knowing the Congressman or being informed of the whole story, I withhold judgment about the health and status of his marriage prior to sending these pictures. Power is sometimes the most attractive force of all, and those who contemplate a career in public service find it the most powerful aphrodisiac imaginable. But, speaking as a DC resident, I do know many people who come here seeking power to compensate for personal shortcomings and limitations. No amount of it will ever fix those issues, and if sexual infidelity is a manifestation of unresolved problems, the experience may often make it much worse.

Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing

Who's that stomping
all over my face?
Where's that silhouette
I'm trying to trace?

Who's putting sponge
in the bells I once rung
And taking my gypsy
before she's begun?

To singing the meaning
of what's in my mind
Before I can take home
what's rightfully mine.

Joinin' and listenin'
and talkin' in rhymes
Stoppin' the feeling
to wait for the times.

Who's saying baby,
that don't mean a thing?
'Cause nowadays Clancy
can't even sing.

And who's all hung-up
on that happiness thing?
Who's trying to tune
all the bells that he rings?

And who's in the corner
and down on the floor
With pencil and paper
just counting the score?

And who's trying to act
like he's just in between?
The line isn't black,
if you know that it's green.

Don't bother looking,
you're too blind to see
Who's coming on
like he wanted to be.

Who's saying baby,
that don't mean a thing,
'Cause nowadays
Clancy can't even sing.

And who's coming home
on the old nine-to-five?

Who's got the feeling
that he came alive,

Though havin' it,
sharin' it
ain't quite the same
It ain't no gold nugget,
you can't lay a claim

Who's seeing eyes
through the crack
in the floor

There it is baby,
don't you worry no more
Who should be sleepin',
but is writing this song

Wishin' and a-hopin'
he weren't so damned wrong.

Who's saying baby,
that don't mean a thing,

'Cause nowadays Clancy
can't even sing.

A Marriage Story for All The Skeptics Out There

Recently I attended a Quaker wedding. Having now introduced the subject of this entire post, the temptation is to add a sufficient qualifier. None of the most common phrases used sounds especially elegant. Same-sex marriage or its compliment, same-gender marriage, sounds pedantic. Gay marriage sometimes implies that a union between two homosexual people is less authentic or valid than one between a heterosexual couple. In conclusion, what I will say is that there were two grooms. And over the past nine months I have gotten to know the both of them, which was why I was put to work that day as the world’s most nervous and highly anxious usher. Friends tend to be introverted and somewhat socially awkward, and this Friend is no exception.

What I found most intriguing was not the beautiful flourishes scattered here and there throughout the Meetinghouse grounds. Instead my attention was drawn to how multicultural the gathering truly was. It’s easy to be skeptical of such a claim wherever it is voiced. "Multicultural", as many of us understand it is shown to be some sort of desired ideal to inspire to, and once temporarily attained, self-conscientiously announced out of fear it will go unnoticed otherwise. The diversity present here was so natural and nonchalant that one felt that such a collection of different looking people sitting together in one room was no big deal at all. Much of this is due to the past residence of both men. The port city of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates is a true cultural melting pot in a way few cities really are and arguably even more so than our own country ever was. My Meeting is usually rather Caucasian in makeup, if you will, so it was astonishing to see the change.

Dark-skinned people with English accents rose to spoke. An openly gay Muslim Imam intoned meaningfully about the progression of tolerance towards LGBTs. Two children rose to give sweet, short, touching remarks about their love for both of their uncles. Friends and family comprised of several separate, distinct nationalities were also present. Superficial differences mattered not a whit in the final analysis. What was more important was what everyone had in common, each imparting their love and well wishes to the happy couple. If any word could suffice as a theme for the entire proceedings, love would be it. I wish those who cannot understand this concept when it does not narrowly apply to a man and a woman could have been present there. I pray that their narrow view might have been successfully challenged or at least they might have been provided a glimpse at the reality, not the hyperbole.

A sobering reminder of the greater challenges remaining for all of us arrived in the form of a close friend to both who spoke. In much of the Arabic world, homosexuality is still criminalized and harshly punished. Sexual relations outside of heterosexual marriage are to this very moment very much against the law. Punishments range from time spent in jail, fines, deportation, and even the death penalty. In a message that brought tears to the eyes of many, the man spoke about the daily paranoia present to all who are LGBT. “Each of us fears for the day,” he said, “where we will hear a knock upon our door.” And it is at this exact moment that I realized how fortunate we are to live in a country where this is not the case. We may express consternation and annoyance with our government and cultural limitations, for reasons that have much merit and validity, but neither should we overlook the progress we have made.

Some conspicuous absences were observable. One groom’s family was not present. He is not even out to them, and assuming they knew, their approval would never be granted. Though he has never vocalized his thoughts on the subject to me, I know it must have been upsetting. Had it been my own wedding and had none of my nuclear family showed up, I would have been quite offended. I’m sure there must have been a time where he decided that living as who he is was more important than conforming to the restrictions and prejudices of the place of his birth. Sadly, this decision is still one that is not uncommon to our own shores. This is why I have been quite deliberately vague about how I've reported every identifying detail of this entire ceremony. My intention is to protect his privacy. Repeated requests were made to those in attendance, in the form of strongly worded pleas, that pictures taken during the proceedings never be uploaded to Facebook.

Though the wedding left me feeling better about the state of the human race, I have only one mild annoyance to address. Many heterosexual people with their hearts in the right places sometimes react to and process same-sex marriage in means that are somewhat grating. Still secretly trying to invalidate the homophobia of past societal conditioning in their own lives, many overcompensate frequently out of guilt. Endearing stories about the betrothed are often consistently framed as if to say, “Look! Gay couples are just like straight couples! There’s nothing wrong with gay people after all! Gay people are normal!” But though I observe it and see it for what it is, neither do I overly stress my objections. The sentiment is genuine and full of best intentions, but the rendering may be a little awkward.

I’m torn between two different approaches about how to respond. The more militant, take-no-prisoners part of me wants to go off on this massive tirade about how gay marriage is in many ways nothing like heterosexual marriage and never will be. Normalizing or seeking to normalize something so intrinsically different by its very nature could be viewed as offensive. While it is correct to note that that sexual orientation shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, it is also worth noting that LGBT people do have very different experiences from the majority of people. They have always been aware, often painfully so, of how different they are.

But it is at this point that I draw a line. I grew up fairly conservative, so I’m usually more than a little uncomfortable to read or hear about certain depictions and reinforcing anecdotes. Each of these is meant to, somewhat romantically, proclaim how transgressive and thus liberating queer identity once was back in the day. Purity has always been a highly subjective concept to me, and I feel the same way here. I’m certain the taboo, dangerous quality of non-heterosexual expression was a form of complete rebellion once upon a time, but I’ll take greater acceptance over a two-by-four across my skull any day. If same-sex or same-gender couples want to tie the knot by way of established traditions once only allowed to heterosexual couples, I support their decision. Had I not, I would never have showed up in the first place.

Returning to how I began, where I was speaking about the shortcomings of allies, another avenue altogether leads me to suggest that allies are to be appreciated, even when they don’t quite get it. Speaking from my own experiences, I am a man who regularly frequents activist groups peopled primarily by women. I’ve had to learn through trial and much error that being an effective ally is lots of work and introspection. If I were judged by my own opinions given not two years ago, I’m sure I’d feel exceptionally embarrassed at the quality of what I then considered insight and perspective. It is worth celebrating that we do finally live in a world where many of us can mention that we are going to a wedding with two grooms; the announcement doesn’t necessarily register instant shock, automatic contempt, or revulsion.

I think also it’s entirely possible to provide an authentic flavor not specifically heterosexual to an often staid tradition. The wedding I attended was in many ways very traditional in its adherence to Quaker customs. Yet, it was quite clearly the work and construction of two gay men in ways that were both subtle and not especially subtle at all. I was glad to see that there was no desire to overreach for the sake of conforming to stereotypes. But in the end, it was a wedding like many others I have attended in the course and progression of my life.

Same-sex marriages or unions don’t merely provide allies, friends, and family members the ability to reflect upon their own progress towards tolerance. I myself have gotten more comfortable in queer spaces, raised as I was against the backdrop of red state homophobia. Though I myself identity as queer, it took a long time to be okay enough with myself that I was okay enough in the company of with others like me. Once, visits to activities like Pride parades or venues like bars were often enough to give me an instant panic attack upon arrival. It was simply too much, too soon for me. And, since I partner mostly with women, it took a long time for me to figure out where I best fit on that broad, unsatisfying, and often flummoxing continuum. Sometimes it takes grand events like these to push past my fears. I may have to be flung into the deep end to reach resolution. I have uncovered with time that my most profound fear is that which exists inside me.

Quote of the Week

“The inevitable result of improved and enlarged communications between different levels in a hierarchy is a vastly increased area of misunderstanding”- Author Unknown

Saturday Video

Photography

In this photo, I manage to look exactly like my mother's father. Eerie. Yes, I always look this intense.

Sonnet

Recorded in the bathroom in one glorious, and only slightly nervous take. But it seems to suit the subject material. The acoustics favored the guitar over the vocals. If I record in here again, I'm going to separate guitar and vocal into two tracks. In the meantime, I've got to get the action fixed on this guitar.



My friend and me
Looking through her
red box of memories

Faded I'm sure
But love seems to stick
in the things you know

Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my love

Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my love

Why can't you see
That nature has its way of warning me?
Eyes open wide
Looking at the heavens with a tear in my eye

Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my love
Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my love

Sinking faster than a
boat without a hull
My love

Dreaming about the day when
I can see you there
By my side

Here we go again
and my head is gone, my love
I stop to say hello
'Cause I think you should know, by now

By now
By now
By now

Strength Redefined

A former lover of mine once summarized me as follows: “You seem so strong sometimes, but you could fall apart at any time.” Men, as we are taught, are not supposed to be fragile. Though I cast aside most notions of conventional masculinity, a few are especially tenacious and persistent. Or, to be very blunt, I’m supposed to be able to handle my own shit by myself. Both fortunately and unfortunately, crisis situations turn me into a man drowning in the ocean, grabbing hold of whatever or whomever is around to keep my head above water. Like many people with bipolar disorder, I’ve been able to manage an incredible amount of stamina, energy, and work, for a while, but once exhausted, I am mostly useless and frail. Consistent work without lengthy breaks in between to recover is expected behavior on the job for most people. For me, and for those with similar limitations, it’s simply not possible.

I never wanted to be this way. And as I think about this more, I am reminded of the life of the British comedian Spike Milligan, who also struggled with bipolar disorder. While on tour with Peter Sellers and Harry Secombe, who comprised the remaining two-thirds of the popular 1950′s and early 1960′s radio show The Goon Show, the high-strung and neurotic Milligan rarely took criticism well. Once when in Scotland, their on-stage routine ended with numerous boos and cat-calls from the audience. Due to much experience with Milligan’s eccentric behavior, Sellers and Secombe both knew to quickly rush to their partner’s dressing room. It seems that Milligan had locked the door behind him and was once again threatening suicide. Out of long practiced habit, they were eventually able to talk him down and even to coax him to open the door. Crisis averted, again.

Fortunately, it’s been many years since my emotional swings have been that intense and my behavior that extreme. Yet, I still have my triggers, and I still end up feeling guilty when trusted friends have needed to repeatedly calm me down and soothe easily frayed nerves. Certain issues that have never been resolved in therapy or in life continue to create problems. But I also know, as someone with lots of free-floating anxiety, that I never come across as poorly as I always think I do. This goes for everyone, disability or not. I guess I still carry a lot of baggage from previous partners who told me that I was a handful, or that I was too needy, or that they didn’t have the energy, or that dealing with me was such a strain that they themselves needed to go to therapy just to manage. Hearing those words of criticism often made me want to rush to my own imaginary dressing room, though not necessarily to my own demise.

In many ways, these ill-conceived and offensive phrases are lobbed in the direction of everyone with a disability. They’re used to flat out not be accommodating to people with particular needs and restrictions. They’re used to dismiss legitimate concerns out of hand as excessive and unnecessary effort. And, just as I introduced this post, being inclusionary requires both a compassionate attitude and at least a basic understanding of unique challenges. The wheelchair-bound person can tell you all of the means by which this world is not designed for someone unable to walk upright under his/her own power. The person with a chronic illness, no matter what it is, knows what it’s like to lose whole days to pain and suffering, and mourn their loss, no matter how helpful that may be in the long run.

Each of us learns precisely who is part of our support network and who wishes to help, but doesn’t know what to say. Each of us knows with time that silence is not always an insult or a rejection of help. In time, we find ways to adapt, but sometimes we wish that the world might adapt to us even half the way we adapt to it. But lest I seem unappreciative for what I have been given in this life, I hold in the Light the people who have kept me calm, safe, and together. My appreciation and love knows no bounds.

Because I Don't Have the Energy to Record My Own Today

I must be feeling low
I talked to God in a
phonebox on my way home

I told you my answer
I left you my dreams
on your answering machine

Come on
Let the Spirit inside you
Don't wait to be found
Come along with our sound

Let the Spirit move you
Let the waves come up
They'll fuse you
I've never met no one to deny a sound

I must be going insane
I called the doctor
so he can relieve my pain

He's got a little pill for me
Just a little luxury
Help me through my day

Come on
Let the Spirit inside you
Don't wait to be found
Come along with our sound

Let the Spirit move you
Let the waves come up
They'll fuse you
I've never met no one to deny our sound

Come on
Come on
Come on
Come on

There's only one life
There's only one life

Unity, Faith, and the Body of America

While riding on the bus here in DC recently, I've noticed another in a series of ad campaigns by atheist, agnostic, and non-theist groups. The Freedom From Religion Foundation has been particularly persistent and prominent. Their basic advertising technique displays a quotation advancing an anti-religious view from a series of important Americans throughout time. They seek to best advance a basic message that religion and government have no part. While I agree that a strict separation or wall between the two is necessary, I would not agree to remove moral teachings with a religious focus altogether from the process. Real religion and spirituality, not its watered-down, adulterated, self-serving imitation is never plentiful.

As we know, President Obama made his name on the national scene with an optimistic notion that there was much more that drew Americans together than separated them. This was called bipartisanship and nervously entertained for a time, before being soundly ridiculed for being pie-in-the-sky and unrealistic. Its core message, however, stretches back centuries.

The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ. Some of us are Jews, some are Gentiles, some are slaves, and some are free. But we have all been baptized into one body by one Spirit, and we all share the same Spirit. For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, "I am not part of the body because I am not an eye," would that make it any less a part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything?

But now God has arranged the parts, every one of them, in the body according to his plan. If all were a single member, where would the body be? The eye can never say to the hand, "I don't need you." The head can't say to the feet, "I don't need you." In fact, some parts of the body that seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary.

The solution has been with us for a long time. The issue here is a simple, equally ancient problem involving an unequal distribution of power, resources, and money. Hierarchies are a prime breeding ground for this setup. From that aspect, I understand, at least in part, why Atheism, Agnosticism, Nontheism, or Anti-Religious stances are popular and attractive to some. Having been justifiably wronged, some leave faith behind and make it a mission of sorts to prevent others from being wounded in the same way. Our methods, bias, and personal experiences may differ, but each of us is trying to reach Heaven, be it literally or figuratively. I believe in God, in no small part, because I want to bring to everyone the Peaceable Kingdom, where it is written that the lamb will lie down with the wolf.

But even among the religious, there is no one understanding of what this Kingdom should look like, or even when it will come to pass. Those who think otherwise are fooling themselves. Among individual believers this constant, often unstated tension and sometimes open dissent is prevalent and common. I will tactfully suggest that sometimes Non-Theist groups make blanket assumptions about all believers without examining the plentiful quantity of nuances and even sometimes bold faced contradictions within organized religion. Fundamentalism's own ad campaign should not be believed. They do not own faith exclusively, nor do they have any and all of the answers. I am sure that if I examined Non-Theist groups, there would probably be the same splits, schisms, and factions present there, also.

That which was expressed by Paul of Tarsus in the passage above requires much from each of us. It was a demanding commandment in the First Century A.D. and it challenges us now. If I am to apply the passage to more than just my faith community, I could never say to an Atheist, "I don't need you." If all of us were a single member, where would the body be? This goes for worship and for governance. When the body we refer to is a deliberative one known as Congress, this seems to be a pretty common offense. Still, if we are indeed the very same Americans in both the red states and the blue states, we are still citizens with civic responsibilities towards cooperation and community. Even if one of us proclaimed to be not part of the American body for whatever reason, would that make him or her any less of one?

What if I slightly modified a famous parable of Jesus?

"A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. By chance a Baptist minister was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Catholic priest also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side.

But then a despised Muslim, as he traveled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, and gave them to the host, and said to him, 'Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.' Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to him who fell among the robbers?"

He said, "He who showed mercy on him."

Then Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise."

What if the one who showed him mercy was a Tea Party protester? Or an Evangelical Christian? Or held a strong pro-life stance? Or was an anti-feminist?

The original hero of this Parable was, of course, the Samaritan.

Samaritans were hated by Jesus' target audience, the Jews, to such a degree that the Lawyer's phrase "He who had mercy on him" may indicate a reluctance to name the Samaritan. The Samaritans in turn hated the Jews. Tensions were particularly high in the early decades of the first century because Samaritans had desecrated the Jewish Temple at Passover with human bones.

Democratic values, properly implemented, require radical love and inclusiveness. These values may not need to be introduced with a particular verse of Scripture, but their moral under-girding is a historically religious manifestation of morality and ethical conduct. The Founding Fathers may not have been especially religious people in a strict sense, but they were nevertheless influenced by the religion of their upbringing and the primarily Christian faith of their ancestors. I'm not advocating for prayer in school, but I think it would instructive to examine how we got to this place. Without understanding our past, it is impossible to put the present in its proper context. And this exists well beyond religion. We cannot eviscerate our past for any reason, because, if we do, we lose the ability to correctly shape the future. Mistakes will be made, but if we have some guide along the way, they will be less destructive and easier to fix with time.

Yet again, regardless of our identities, we ask ourselves again whether we are advanced enough to save not just ourselves, but others as well. Some may say that Obama's words are still little more than an overly optimistic, albeit ingratiating campaign slogan. One can be sure that bipartisanship will not be a message advanced in the 2012 campaign. I see this as discouraging, but I still continue my own work. Have we yet pushed aside our human selfishness to see that none of us is beyond saving and all of us have worth? If we have not, what must we do next? Until then, we will persuasively, collectively, present our ideas to the world, finding those who are receptive to what we believe, and also finding those who resist us. If we are to succeed as we hope, I suppose it depends on how we interpret the word "body". Some parts of the body that may seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary.

A Brief Recap of the Past Few Days

I'm ill and annoyed. The endocrinologist has no clue how to correctly prescribe medication taken to block production of Estradiol (Estrogen). In accordance with his orders, I've been taking 1 mg of Arimidex for the past two weeks. What I was not informed is that I instead need to be taking half the prescribed dosage half as often. In my case it means I need to take .5 mg of Arimidex every other day. But for now, I am going to need to wait three or four days and let the levels lower on their own. That's really the only thing I can do.

I've been quite sick the past four or five days. I wasn't aware of how sick until yesterday. While I was four hours away from home, I was actively contemplating whether or not I needed to to go the ER. I'm fortunate in that I have a friend who also deals with chronic health issues of her own, and she was able to keep me calm over the phone. And I was also fortunate in that the nearest hospital was a two minute walk away. Bodily systems are related, so when my physical health gets worse, so too does my emotional/mental health. Bipolar is a disorder of the brain and the brain is a very large organ in charge of regulating lots of important things. A mild depression is very often the result when my physical health suffers.

But, in time, my physical health problems should lessen. Today mostly I just feel drugged and weak. Nausea and a non-existent appetite until late in the afternoon has also been an issue. My eyes stayed dilated from the instant I woke up until I drifted off to sleep. I found myself having no energy and having to rest frequently. One of my intentions was to take lots of pictures over the holiday, but I was unable to attain the the stamina to do so. Even now I still feel some of these same symptoms.

Out-of-pocket cost to me was also a factor in deciding not to go to the hospital. While as part of disability I do have Medicare, which will cover expenses everywhere on U.S. soil, it will not cover everything. While in DC, I have Medicaid, which will pick up almost everything Medicare will not. Medicaid, however, is not portable from state to state, territory to territory, or region to region. Though I would have gone if my condition had worsened, I would have also had at least a few hundred dollars to pay. Exact cost always depends upon how many tests they run when you're there.

I expect to be feeling better tomorrow. Part of what's wrong with me today is having to wake up super early to get the rental car back by the noon deadline.