A November Ode

       A November Ode

One day, you will leave
(or I will)
and we will grieve
then love again–
we both know how.

Time nudges us forward,
whether or not we care,
into a-moon-apart
at least until stars realign.

But today is sunny
and we are warm,
and it’s enough.

        --Cynthia Sillitoe, November 2013

The Pitfalls of Conversation in the 21st Century (Or Just Because You Posted It Doesn't Mean I Saw It.)

Ok, I just know I'm not the only person who has experienced this. You meet up with a friend or relative who launches into a conversation about people and events and you have no idea what she's talking about. Sometimes it's something small like a book or movie they liked. Sometimes it's like...apparently this person has broken up with their significant other or changed jobs or, I don't know, had a child. And the conversation starts in the middle and you realize, with a sinking feeling, you are supposed to know the back story to this all, but you don't....and you think....damn that social media.

And, hey, I love social media. Here I am blogging. I'm on Facebook. My cat is on Facebook (though she has woefully neglected her page in her quest to enjoy every last minute of nice weather.) Theoretically, I'm on Pinterest except I signed up for it and figured it out in the middle of the night, so I was under the influence of Ambien, and....I don't remember my password or how it all works. I may figure that out, but it's kind of low on my priority list. And every time I get a notification that someone is following me on Pinterest, I think, "Ok, they're going to be disappointed."

Here's the deal, people. I can barely keep up with my own life. Seriously. And I suspect I'm not alone in this. It doesn't mean I don't love your Facebook posts, but I might miss a few. I might only check out your blog every couple of months and find a few dozen entries I haven't read, including the one that says you've had triplets and moved to Siberia. And I'm definitely missing your Pinterest boards about your new obsession with building your own robots.

I use Facebook for three main reasons:

1. to keep everyone appraised of my cat's life
2. to post all the witty and sarcastic remarks that only the cat might otherwise hear
3. to say "help, help!" when something in my life goes wrong.

And I love that rush of support and love and funny comments, but I don't expect to hear from everyone I know. If someone goes weeks without even reading my Facebook comments or blog, I don't take it personally. I figure they're just all trying to keep up with their own lives.

Not to mention trying to remember all their passwords.

The Balm of Gilead

More than 30 years ago, a wave of feminism rose up against the Mormon (LDS) church. My mom not only joined it, she wrote about it, and, in doing so, gained a certain amount of notoriety and disfavor with the church's leadership. She would clash with church leadership many more times, but it began with a group of women who stepped forward and asked for more.

As those who know me or read my blog are aware, I carry psychic scars of that struggle, not to mention a case of PTSD triggered by anything connected to Mormonism. I have never read most of my mom's writings related to the church and I have distanced myself from the intellectual communities in which my parents played a huge role. I even decided to stop reading and watching local media because it always holds triggers. And so I live in Utah and I have no idea what's going on around me, unless someone tells me or it makes it to CNN.

I was aware of the fact that the battle for equality in the LDS church had continued and recently a new awakening had blossomed. I even have cousins involved in it. Still, I remained cynical. And kind of annoyed. I rolled my eyes and thought, "Fine. Battle the behemoth if that's what you want to do, but don't expect it to change." Most often I wondered why anyone would want to fight. Why not just get out?

You see, because I have never had any faith in the LDS gospel and because I have never been comfortable in an LDS congregation--the closest I've ever come to comfort is ambivalence--it's hard for me to relate to those who have both great faith in the gospel and ideological qualms with the church. I have to remind myself that it's possible to have both and how difficult that must be.

Yesterday, a friend sent my dad an e-mail letting him know about this bright young feminist who had a tribute to my mom on Facebook. As he does with all things concerning Facebook, my dad forwarded it to me. I clicked on the link and found Hannah Wheelwright's page. She'd posted a short, but powerful poem by my mom. I smiled when I saw she'd chosen a simple typewriter font for it because that's probably what my mom would have chosen. I sent her a message telling her I appreciated how she'd used it and wished her well in the struggle.

Later, I did an Internet search, found her blog, and read some of the posts, including one about why, out of respect, the church should correctly be referred to as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or the LDS church, not the Mormon church. I've resisted this for decades because I don't like doing what the church wants me to do. That said, her argument about the power of language reminded me that I had learned this same lesson from my mom. And that maybe I need to show respect even when I feel I have not received it in return. It's something I need to think about.

I also discovered just how powerful and extensive this network of LDS feminists--both male and female, gay and straight--has become. I have always known that every fight for equality has spanned generations and always some of those fighters succumb to cynicism. Whether it's women's suffrage, or an end to racial segregation, or the idea of women being ordained in the LDS church, it's always tempting to say, as I have said, it will never happen. I never wanted to be one of those people, but it happened to me anyway. Fortunately, even amid the cynics' warnings, some people push on.

While the LDS church will never be my spiritual path, I see a possibility of a more just and inclusive church. I have never thought the struggle my mom was part of was for nothing. Confronting injustice is a righteous act. I also never thought I'd see the fruition of that struggle. Now I think I might.

And that takes the sting out of a lot of my wounds.

Birthright

Birthright

I am my mother’s daughter,
so I know
the difference between fewer and less,
and the healing properties of chocolate.
I know
all the president’s men,
and the lyrics of Simon and Garfunkel,
and
how to read a poem.

I am my mother’s daughter,
so I know
how to navigate seas
of shadows and light
and speak truth
even when you ache.
(Especially when you ache.)

I am my mother’s daughter,
so I know
beauty is all around us
and danger nearby.
I know hogans face east
and life is okay
if the cat is all right.

I am my mother’s daughter,
so I know,
how autumn explodes,
things end and begin again
in November.
I know
the scents of cedar and sage,
and the sound of a drum
calling us out to dance.

–Cynthia Sillitoe, August 2013

Didn't I Leave?

Disclaimer: this is one of those posts where I take issue with the Mormon church, so you might not want to read it. And if you disagree with it and want to explain the church's position on this issue so that I will better understand, please don't waste either of our time. I know the explanations. I just don't buy them. 

So, here I am, working on my Etsy store (yay!) and having a lovely day, except this conversation keeps going through my head, over and over, like it was in a Star Trek feedback loop, and once again it's about Mormonism....

And I just thought, "Didn't I leave?" I mean, it could be argued I never really joined, having never been baptized, but...yeah, I left. Except some of it stayed tattooed (a Mormon tattoo?) on my psyche and I never seem to truly escape it. My experience has been when one of these loops starts, something has triggered it psychically and the only way to get out of it is to have the conversation. So maybe someone I know needs to hear/read this. I don't know. But I finally decided to stop what I was doing and blog about it in the hopes that I can then go on with my day.

If you asked me what tenet of Mormon religion I really objected to most, it would be temple weddings. A temple wedding is a ceremony where two people (well, a man and a woman) are sealed to each other for eternity. They are the weddings all good Mormons aspire to have. The kicker is that those actually present at the ceremony have to be Mormons in good standing. My own understanding of that (which could be inaccurate) is that they need to be active in the church, have a testimony that the Mormon gospel is true, and they need to pay their tithing regularly.

If you're not willing to do all of that, you don't go to the ceremony. Even if it's your kid getting married, you're not getting in. (No, I am not kidding.) They do have a room at the temple where all the non-Mormons or not-good-enough Mormons can wait and then join the rest of the family for pictures outside the temple.

The church used to be a little more lenient about all this. My parents actually were able to get permission to have a wedding in the chapel of a Mormon church and my dad's family (who were all not Mormon) were able to be there, and then the next day, my parents were sealed in the temple, and only my mom's family (at least those who had paid their tithing) attended that, but everyone was happy. The church doesn't allow that any more because it would be what everyone would want.

Anyway, I totally understand why the Mormon church has its policy. In fact, I see two different reasons for it. One is the need for something to be sacred. I'm the first to admit other cultures have that. In Native American cultures, a Sun Dance is sacred. It's not open to everyone and it can't be photographed. Of course, it's also not a wedding.

The other reason I think the Mormon church (Yes, I know I'm supposed to call it the LDS church, but I decline to do that because they want me to....and not doing what the Mormon church wants me to is my revenge for all the nights as a kid I couldn't sleep because I was afraid my parents would be excommunicated. Believe me, it's my due.) Anyway, as I was saying, a more cynical reason for temple weddings is that it's a really good way to keep those tithing dollars coming in. I'm willing to bet (I can bet, having left) that about half the people who now pay tithing do it to be able to attend temple weddings. Well, that and to not feel guilty about having not paid tithing every time their bishop looks at them. (I know Jews and Catholics have a longer guilt tradition, but...um, Mormons can give you a run for their money.)

Not only does this temple wedding notion not hold up with my own beliefs and the God I've come to know, it doesn't square with the few years I attended Primary (Mormon Sunday School for kids.) One really practical lesson I learned from Primary was not to pick my nose. (You'd be surprised how many prayers include that. Again, I'm not kidding. Prayers like "Heavenly Father, thank you for our blessings, help us to listen to our teachers, and be reverent and obedient, and not pinch/kick the kid next to us and not pick our noses and eat the boogers....")

But the more religious lessons I learned in Primary were that Heavenly Father all of us loves us, we are all his children, and family is forever. Ok, um, what part of "family is forever" includes "but only some of them get to be at your wedding?"

(An aside, thanks to therapy, I now know family is not forever if you don't want it to be. When my therapist asked me why I still spent time in toxic relationships with relatives, I chimed back, "Family is forever," and she said, "Didn't you leave? Because if you're not going to believe other Mormon tenets, I suggest you let go of that one, too." And I did.)

My experience with this is far from unique. Anyone who has left the Mormon church knows this pain and any Mormon who had a temple wedding can list relatives who weren't able to attend. I have known people who have lost their Mormon faith and struggled with what to do about their kids' weddings. I've known people who opted not to attend. They couldn't say and do the things they needed to in order to be at their child's wedding and not feel like an absolute hypocrite. Often this causes a little family tension; sometimes it tears a family apart.  I have also known other people who went to the other extreme. A friend who had no belief left in Mormonism told me that she gladly went to the bishop and said everything she needed to say to be at her kids' weddings and she didn't regret it.

When I broached this subject with a Mormon friend, she echoed that. She assured me she would say or do whatever it took to see her kid's wedding. I looked at her a minute and said, "What if, in order to be at that wedding, you had to condemn the Mormon church? What if you had to throw Joseph Smith and Jesus Christ and everything you believe in under the bus to be at your kid's wedding? And what does that say to your kid? On the one hand, I guess he or she could say they were the most important thing in the world to you. But they could also take with them the idea that belief is something you discard when it gets in the way."

And now maybe I can get on with my day....and not pick my nose and eat the boogers because Heavenly Father just hates that.

With Apologies to Robert Frost

One Traveler

If I could go back
to where the roads diverged
and take the other,
the one more worn,
the one more traveled,
would my feet ache less?

I dream at night of that yellow wood
and wake, disoriented,
remembering what it was like
to see and know
but not believe.

Beside me,
my golden cat
turns her belly up,
and sleepily we start the day
knowing that way leads on to way.

--Cynthia Sillitoe, July 2013

Where I've Been

Uh, yeah...it's been a while since I checked in here.

In May, I started an Etsy store. And I love it. And then I started making Etsy treasuries, which are kind of like Pintrest boards of all the things I love on Etsy. I've gotten a little obsessed with those, but there's so much great art and Etsy is a lovely place to spend hours.

And then it's been hot and Percie has wanted to be out in the heat and I am forever bringing her in. You can lead a cat to water, but you can't make her drink. You also can't make her believe that you're doing her a favor by not letting her roast in the sun.

And then I got hooked on Candy Crush and a few games like it. The only problem is I, uh, suck at them and probably don't fully understand how I'm supposed to get from level to level. I do not have a "solve a spacial puzzle" brain. I have a "remember that conversation you had with Grandma thirty years ago" brain. And I no longer let myself buy the extra moves to help me get to a new level because they almost never do. Candy Crush for me is all about being content with playing the same level every day, all week, and maybe the next week, and then suddenly a miracle happens and I actually complete it. And I'm never sure how I did that, so I remain clueless.

Each day, I spend a little time in the studio, and sometimes I even get some art made. Usually that happens if it's cool enough to let Percie stay out. Otherwise, I bring her in and try to encourage her to sleep on her shelf above the art table. Instead, she knocks stuff off the table and I pick it up and she knocks it off again, all the while screaming "Let me outside! The Geneva Convention says I'm allowed to stay outside as long as I want even if it's 300 degrees!"

I keep buying her toys that I hope will entertain her (and get her stoned with catnip.) They don't work and I order more. I try to do that during the day because at night I'm busy making Ambien-induced trips to Walmart.com to buy two bottles of raspberry and vanilla scented hand soap and some citrus scent bathtub cleaner. (Ambien must make me crave fruit in a subconscious way.) And then I wake up the next morning and check my e-mail and think "Why did I buy hand soap and bathroom cleaner at 3 a.m., especially since the shipping is more than the cost of the purchase?"

And then Percie says...."Is it morning? Can I go outside?"