The Wren of Amusing Email

Today has been relentlessly dreary, with the mist throughout the day finally resolving into gray. I mention this because I have had the afternoon to work, and instead I have been falling asleep sitting up. I suppose this is a sign that I need sleep, that I have been working too hard, or that it’s just too dreary of a day to stay awake. I need something to do besides laundry, which is putting me to sleep as well.

Surveying my more imaginative side, I’ve decided I need a visit from the Bluebird of Happiness, or at least the Robin of Mildly Positive Affect, with wild news or mild news for my life. In my wildest dreams, the Osprey of Capital rescues me from this drudgery with an ostentatiously generous Powerball win. Maybe the Seagull of Exquisite Dinners will bring a menu from Waldo Thai, and somehow I’ll have the time to go there. The Blue Jay of Raucous Laughter? I could use a good laugh right now.

I may have to settle for the Wren of Amusing Email, as the other birds seem not to have found my house. Let me go read my email …

The Spiritual Struggles of a Doubter

I wanted to write about belief, and in particular my uncertain belief in a higher power. I abandoned the first draft of the blog entry in frustration.

I believe in something, but I feel more comfortable among the atheists. They seem to have some humility about their position in the universe. (I’ve not met the megalomaniacal type of atheist who sees the lack of a God as the reason to commit evil, which is what Christianity told me exists with all atheists.)

The “Price is Right” God

Some believe an all-powerful God picks favorites. I’ve heard this done by gender, by beliefs, by zealousness of practice, by denomination, by race, by social status, by sexuality. Believers enhance their position with God by hating who God purportedly hates, which is people not like them. His favorites get blessings (material or social). Very rich ministers assure the flocks that God will bring them riches. If they’re good, God will shower the believers with good things. His rejected have bad things happen to them.

I can’t buy that view of a higher power. A deity who needs worship from bribing worshippers with blessings and withholding them from people who may actually need them seems too insecure to be allowed all that omnipotence. It also turns a sacred relationship into a game show.

If I could make my own higher power

I don’t believe in the game show God. To be honest, I don’t know if I believe in God at all. My belief certainly wavers, and so I feel so much kinship with doubters of any stripe.

But if I could design my own higher power, She wouldn’t ask for church attendance; rather, She would be always available for conversations. We would not call that “prayer” because of the baggage from religion so many carry. I wouldn’t have to prove my worthiness by rejecting those not like me. She would not judge so that all the different denominations, beliefs, sexualities, genders, etc. could find her. I would find her better with other people than I am.

She would not be responsible for good things or bad things happening to people. Those things would happen without Her. I could not go to Her for divine intervention, to fix the problems in my life, no matter how severe, because She doesn’t fix things or make things happen.

Her blessings would be different. Instead of riches or life-changing events, She would give support. She would give me the strength to tackle my own problems. Open my eyes to a different way of seeing things, like opportunities and different perspectives, so I could grow just a little more.

I would be angry at my higher power sometimes because I would want her to make it easy for me or keep bad things from happening or perform my view of justice. But to expect her to do my bidding would cheapen Her, she who is Love to all.

Forty days of reflection

As a Quaker (i.e. member of the Religious Society of Friends, an unorganized religion) I do not give things up for Lent as I did when I was a child in the Roman Catholic Church. I miss the concept of sacrifice, however, at the same time I feel like giving up something doesn’t lend itself to spiritual growth.

A friend of mine is Unitarian Universalist, and she posted a Lenten devotion of reflections upon words that hook into people’s spirituality. The devotion suggested pictures of each day’s word to reflect on, as shown below:

For the forty days of Lent, I will use these words as the jumping point for my blogs. I will do the day 1 reflection later tonight — the word, it turns out, is dedication. I think I can speak to this.

Reflection

Every morning, I sit in the living room on the loveseat where I keep my computer desk. I stare at the screen waiting for inspiration to write this blog, and to write on my latest creation. As I’m a morning person, morning is my best time to write, uncomplicated by the day’s work and accompanied by coffee.

I literally stare at the post editor of Blogger every morning wondering what to write about. I don’t ever think I’ve come up with a topic the night before. Writing this blog is like Chicago-school improv* — I pay attention and see what see what hits me.

I’ve written on writing techniques, psychological techniques used as writing techniques, and writers’ block. I’ve talked about characters, themes, and storylines, both in general and in my writing.

I’ve written about my life — journeys, mental health issues, rejections, and deep depression. I’ve mused on muses and coffee and other sources of creativity. I’ve shared emotions — sometimes deep emotions.

I write about social issues such as ostracism, sexual and physical abuse, discrimination, and abuse of power. I don’t write about politics for the most part, because politics aren’t going to be what cures these social ills — the Peaceable Kingdom, you and I and all those who want to share the world with those not like us, we will lessen those social ills if we extend our arms to help, one tiny moment at a time.

I have been writing in the blog since April 10, 2017, so I’m approaching the one year anniversary of the blog. I’ve never written this regularly in a journal since — since ever. I think it’s because you’re reading, whoever you are, that I feel obligated to keep on writing. I don’t know why you read this blog — you’re a Facebook friend of mine, you’ve stumbled on this blog by way of the labels on notes; a friend of a friend told you to check it out, you have a secret crush on me (just kidding!), you’re an agent on the verge of adopting me (I wish!), you’re a stalker … it doesn’t matter; you keep me going.

* Chicago-school improvisation (improv) is a form of humor I grew up with. Its best applications, believe it or not, were in children’s television programs of the era.

The Concept of Leadings

A Facebook memory today reminded me that three years ago, I had not yet found a publisher or an agent. Three years later, I have not found a publisher or an agent. (That writing device you just saw deployed is called repetition, and emphasizes the point made).

I’m not going to whine here, because that just puts me in a bad mood. I don’t want to be in a bad mood. I will, however, take an opportunity to talk about my current state, which is doubt. Today, my doubt has nothing to do with my assessment of my talent and everything to do with 1) my books are not similar to previous bestsellers; 2) the market is overwhelmed as the result of mass-interest writing movements like Nanowrimo; 3) the industry looks more at what will sell than the message or even the skill of the writer, just as female pop singers have to have a certain “look”; 4) so many people write; few get published.

When I started writing, I hadn’t thought about publishing until partway through my first book when I realized that the story unfolding had themes that I thought needed to be released and read. Some of the themes were subversive (Gaia as the World-Soul) and some universal (the nature of friendship); some of the plot lines were subversive (the May-December relationship where the woman is older) and some not too unusual (the bad guys trying to burn down a food forest that two of the protagonists just planted). I just had this feeling — call it a leading — that I needed to write and to be heard.

A leading, according to the Religious Society of Friends, is a tug on the heart, a whisper from God, a feeling that This Is What I’m Supposed To Do, even if I don’t know the end result. I’m a member of the Religious Society of Friends, or what others call a Quaker. We try to keep our lives simple so that we can carve out a quiet place for our soul to hear what God wants from us. (Yes, I know, how weird.)

I have been writing because I sincerely believe that I have a leading to write. The fact that I always find a new dream snippet to write from helps me believe this. I don’t have a leading to write full-time, because I’m pretty sure God wants me to eat.

But if I have a leading to write, and nobody publishes me (I will not self-publish, because nobody will read me that way either) then what’s my leading about? Is it really there? Is it time to let go of this leading? I don’t hear that still small voice advising me right now.

Thus, I doubt.