Sunday, September 17, 2023

Walkin' With Joshua

 Another dream about my favourite not-my-savior.


There's a lot for him to worry about here on the Earthly plane, and he likes to have someone to hash things out with from time to time.  You know, he never gets snarky - and if anyone has the right to a little snark, I would think he does!

So we had another little get-together, he and I, a few nights ago, and I figured I'd share it because I'm a little shy of blog-fodder right now, and why not put my delusions up in The Blue Nowhere for everyone else to laugh at?

"Hey, J, how's it hangin'?"
"Now, K, do you really think that's appropriate to ask me, of all people?"
"Why not?  You got 'em.  And I bet no one pays much attention to 'em.  Good grief, most of the people who claim they're your adherents refuse to acknowledge that you're a man in every sense of the word.  That must make weekends a bummer."
"Yes, well, I have other concerns."
"I know you do.  But I don't think it hurts to remind you that you may embody your father, but you are also human, the link between mortal and divine."
He gives me the look, you know, the one that says a body's getting a little sassy but making a good point?  Yeah, that look.
I offer him a cinnamon roll.
"Thanks.  Can we take these to-go?  I feel restless."
Sometimes he can't sit still. I think when he has a lot on his mind, he needs to move around, work the thoughts out physically.  We go for a walk.
"K, why are you Pagan?"
"You really have to ask?"
"I don't mind that you don't worship me or anything, I'm just wondering."
"Why?"
"It seems like so many people say they follow me and worship my father because that's what they're told to do."
"Uh-huh."
"Well...you were told the same things growing up, right?"
"Yup."
"So why didn't you listen?"
"I have this annoying need to think and make decisions for myself."
"Bothersome."
"You have no idea.  Oh, wait...maybe you do.  Although it seems to me that ultimately you were deprived of the very thing the rest of us have in spades - free will."
"I can see where you'd think that, but I had a choice."
"If you say so."
"I do.  So you decided that my father's house wasn't for you?"
"Pretty much.  Many of the things done in your name?  Not okay.  The abuses sanctioned by the church, or covered up by the church?  Not cool.  I'm not into judgement or anger or hate, and those things seem to be rampant in the places people say they worship you."
"I wish we had more people who came to my father's house because they chose to.  I like knowing someone follows me because they want to and not because they think they have to."
"Well...you know...that's the trouble with dogma, JC.  No room for thought with all that rote."
"I wish your Karma would run over my dogma."
"Lame."
"Sorry."
"So why don't you speak up about some of these things going on down here?  You know...gay marriage?  Health care?  Oooh...or a really hot one, reproductive rights?"
"What am I, crazy?  You think anyone's listening?"

I have to stop a minute and give him a hug, because he's damn near tears and I feel sorry for him.  All he wants is for people to be kind and to live decent lives, maybe help each other out once in a while, even love one another without judging.  It can't be easy.  Imagine if you had all those people asking you to smite, punish, hurt others because they think that's what you do, when really you're just kind of a Buddhist-Hippy-Free-Spirit who wants to drink a little wine, eat a nice non-fish dinner, and maybe sit by a fire and talk about everything and nothing with people who have no expectations beyond the next drink.

"J, I don't think you're going to find any resolution on this Earth.  I think too many people have abused your name and spirit for there to be an easy answer.  I think you're going to have to come back, roll up your robes, and start smacking people upside the head with the figurative mallet (or, you know, the real one if you prefer) to get your point across, and that's kind of contrary to the message, dontcha think?  If they'd even believe that you were you in the first place."

He sighs and sits down on a swing hanging from the branch of a tree that isn't there.  I go behind and give him a push, then another, and one more, sending him arching high up over the nothing in which we dwell.

He give a whoop and a "Whee!" and we're both laughing because how can we not?

I love this boy so much.  As with my own children, I want him to be happy, to not have to carry his burdens, to make sure he knows that I am a safe person, a safe space...because, as with my own kids, I cannot protect him from his choices, from himself, from the demands of Life, the Universe, and Everything.  I can only give him these tiny moments and the compassionate honesty he so craves, and maybe the tools to help him navigate rough waters - the ones he can't just calm himself, I mean.

"You're not wrong." He says when he climb off the swing.  He offers it to me but I'm not really into it at the moment.  I'm more interested in not getting sticky fingers from carrying an imaginary plate of cinnamon rolls.  "I should go, let you get back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted."

"I don't even remember.  Dreams, such ephemeral things.  Go on, then, and take the rest of these with you.  I just know I'm going to wake up and feel the need to wash my hands."  I shove the plate of cinnamon rolls at him.  The frosting has gotten everywhere, including my hands.

Another sweet smile, another joint-popping hug, and he's gone.  He'll be back.  Maybe next time I'll make cardamom thumbprint cookies with orange marmalade and vanilla/clove drizzle...and make him carry the dang plate.

Also, I was right - as soon as I woke up I just had to wash my hands.

Friday, September 15, 2023

Pro Life

Pro-life.

Pro, meaning "in favor of".

Life, meaning...erm..."life".

Pro-life.  In favor of life.

I am, in fact, in favor of life.  But what does that mean, really?

You see it in the news rather a lot, these days: pro-life versus pro-choice, centering around abortion laws protecting or denying the right to safe, legal access to reproductive health services.

The way "pro-life" is being used by pro-lifers, what they mean is "anti abortion" because, it seems, they don't want to own that they are against that aforementioned reproductive health stuff and want to curtail or eliminate its availability.  Calling it "anti-abortion", though, makes it sound so...ugly.  "Pro-life" sounds more caring, more compassionate, more about life than controlling a person's access to healthcare because one religion/spirituality/philosophy should clearly be the foundation for all people's rights and privileges under the law.

Sort of a "My god says I shouldn't do xyz, so you aren't allowed to."

So, what does it mean to be really, truly, deeply pro-life?

I have some thoughts, because of course I do.

How can anyone claim to be pro-life when all they care about is forcing the birth of that life and then denying everything that would nurture it and help it thrive?

Pro-life (in human terms) means:

Gestating the life.
Birthing the life.
Feeding the life.
Clothing the life.
Providing a safe, accessible home for the life.
Providing medical care for the life.
Educating the life.
Protecting the life from the actions and choices of others towards it.
Protecting the rights of the life equally under the law regardless of privilege, income, monetary worth, station, sex, gender, identity, skin color, religion, spirituality, philosophy, or any other factor that may set it apart from any part of society or mark it "different" or "other" and thus, by the definition of some, "less than".
Caring for the life from start to finish.

So, yeah, in the sense that I believe that a society should provide for its members equally, make and enforce laws equally, and protect its member equally, all in ways that are in favor of all lives being viewed as important and even necessary for the health of the society and worthy of compassion and a basic level of dignity and care...I'm pro-life.

I'm just not anti-abortion.  When it comes to reproduction, I am pro-choice.  I didn't need the option when I was in my baby birthin' years, but I was thankful that it was there if I did.  I think it should be there, a choice to be made individually and with the gravity and consideration which is due to all choices regarding life, for everyone.  The right to dictate how others live based upon one's individual feelings or religion is one of the very few rights I'm firmly against.  

If a person isn't wholly in support of meeting the needs of life outside of the womb then they're pro-fetus, pro-birth, anti-abortion, pro-control...but not pro-life.

Tuesday, September 12, 2023

Ghosts

Ghosts of the traditional sort don't tend to be where I am.

The lingering dead?  When I'm about, they just don't linger.

I grew up in a haunted house that was never haunted when I was there.  Stories of other people experiencing the furniture being moved, the sound of stomping feet upstairs, the eerie whispering of their name into their ear when no one else was about, the opening or closing of windows, the occasional ethereal glow?  Not when I was in the house.

Plenty going on as soon as I was  out the door, but when I was in?

Nope, nada.

I was, and honestly still am, a wee bitter about this.  

There's another type of ghost that, until recently, I had heard of but not experienced.

Well, not a ghost...rather, ghosting.

Oh, I've lost friends and had relationships end, but that was usually because of some specific incident or reason.  It was unpleasant, always, but I knew it had happened and why.

Ghosting, on the other hand?  Nope, nada.

I'm not sure what happened, which I suppose is at the very heart of being ghosted.  One never really knows why, does one?

What I do know is that I had a friend whom I love rather suddenly stop communicating with me.  There were often long gaps between calls or chats, so at first I didn't notice.  He was busy with family, work, writing, life.  Nothing unusual to go a few days or even weeks between sending him a message to his response.

Then I noticed - I sent him a birthday greeting, which he never looked at.  Hmm.  Later I sent him a funny picture.  Again, no view, no response.  Almost a year later, I sent another amusing photo, and again...nothing.  Not just an absence of response, not even a look.  The messenger service through which we'd chat tells you when your message has been seen.  It's not something that can be turned off.  I never initiated calls and didn't text (there are reasons, they are valid), but he would call me from time to time and we'd chat for an hour or more, and never did he mention any reason to cut off communications, but the calls stopped, too.  

I let almost another year go by and sent him a birthday greeting.

Nothing.

Now the thing about ghosting is, the ghostee asking the ghoster why is rather pointless.  I'm here.  He knows I'm here.  I'm easy enough to reach, my e-mail and phone number haven't changed.  He is active on social media.  He could TELL ME to fuck off rather than let the silence stretch on this way, but then it wouldn't be a ghosting, would it?

I feel as though asking what went wrong, what I said, or did, or didn't say, or didn't do, to make him simply leave me hanging in liminal space, would be fruitless.

I've known for most of my life that I am forgettable, easy to leave behind, easy to leave in the shadows, easy to just move away from.  At least, that's what the me inside my head tells me.  It's not a surprise that he could find someone more engaging to talk to, but...it would have been nice if he'd told me our friendship was done.  It would help to know why.  This dwelling in mystery shit isn't nice, nor is it kind to just leave a person hanging.  

Could I ask him?  Maybe.  If I thought he'd look at a message. I have to wonder, though, if he wouldn't think to himself that I should get a clue, that his silence should be enough of a reason, wonder why I can't take a hint and leave him alone.

I mean, he hasn't said that he's done, has he?  Maybe life has just been super busy.  For two years.  Maybe he's seen my messages and thought he would respond but then didn't for so long that he felt awkward and then didn't respond and it got more awkward and...  

Except I really don't think that happened.  Silence speaks volumes.  So I stopped messaging.  I don't think he's even noticed.  I'm trying to be ok with it, but it pains me.  I don't think it bothers him in the slightest.  These things happen.  People grow bored or tired or offended or hurt or any number of things happen and friendships fade away.  It's just that usually, everyone involved knows why.  

The thing is, it doesn't take more than a moment to send a smiley face, a thumbs up, a "Please leave me alone".  Seconds.  It could be done in less time than it takes to go to the bathroom.  I'd like to think I'm worth at least that minimal effort.  Clearly I'm not.

Ghosts don't just happen.  There's a reason for them.

I only wish I knew.