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Yearly Archives: 2013

Snake handler 4 (seeing stars)

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Twenty-odd years ago, during the time that we knew my Mom was sick with the cancer that would kill her, an amazing series of events happened.

It started one night when I was preparing to go to bed. I had turned off all the lights except one, a floor lamp by the stairs leading up to my room. When I turned the small knob to switch it off, the bulb made a small popping sound and stopped working. I went in to find another light bulb and replaced it.

I went upstairs and went to bed. That night I had a very intense dream. I dreamed that I was standing, tied up to a post, my arms behind my back, in total darkness. I was being attacked, tormented, assaulted. I knew in my heart that my tormentor was an agent of evil in its most malicious sense. As far as I knew I was alone, defenseless, and in great danger.

In my fear and terror, I remembered to say the Lord’s Prayer.

In that moment there was a flash of orange light, like the light of the sparks from a foundry. The light was like the spray from a waterfall after a spring rainstorm.

Then the lights came on and my bonds had disappeared along with my tormentors. I could see that I was in something like a concrete underground parking garage, with many pillars and no natural light. I was free to go.

I looked to my right and there was another person there, who I realized had also just been freed from the same torment. We talked for a moment. I commented that it was strange that God didn’t send anyone to save me. I was a little upset that I had to do it all myself.

The stranger smiled and said “No, he sent Saint John.”

I was short with him and said “If he’d sent Saint John, there would have been stars.”

The stranger smiled again, patient with me, and said “Look” and pointed at the concrete floor. There, fading away, slowly, were orange stars. They were the light that had spilled out when I’d prayed the Lord’s Prayer and we were released.

I woke up suddenly.

Thoughts raced through my head. What was that? Was that real? What does it mean? Saint John?

Still dazed by the vividness of my dream I went to my bookshelf. I pulled down my saint book that I had gotten just a few weeks before from a friend for Christmas. I’d not had time to read all the entries and I was surprised to find there were so many saints named John.

I read through each one, and came across Saint John of Nepomucen.

John was the confessor to Emperor Wenceslas and his wife in 14th century Prague. The story is that he heard the Empress’ confession and the Emperor wanted to know what she said, suspecting her of adultery. John took his duty of being a confessor seriously and refused to tell. After other clashes between the two men, the Emperor had John tortured, ultimately having him bound up like a wheel, where his heels were tied to his head. He was thrown in the nearby river and legend has it that seven stars appeared in the water over where he was drowned.

He is the patron saint of confessors, and the star is his symbol.

I spent the following day in a haze.

That night I again was preparing to go to bed. I again went to turn off the lamp near the stairs, the lamp with the brand-new light bulb I had put in it the night before.

When I turned the knob, there was a huge popping sound, and an explosion of orange sparks like I had seen in my dream the night before. The room was plunged into darkness.

I stood there, motionless, not daring to breathe.

Finally I recovered and carefully walked away, certain that I would step on a piece of glass from the shattered light bulb. I went to another lamp and turned it on, and brought a flashlight to help me spot the shards.

The bulb was intact. That explosion of orange light was not the sign of damage or destruction. It was a sign to me that my dream was real.

It was a sign to me that God is always with me, protecting me, even when I am helpless, even when I am alone.

It was a sign also to take seriously the role of confessor.

Do something, rather than nothing.

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Don’t ever do nothing because you think you can’t do anything.

One time I was making a rosary. I was cutting and twisting each link the hard way, instead of using eye pins. My hand started to cramp up and I put it down. The next day I wasn’t I interested in working on it. A week went by. I picked it up again. And I realized something. The work that I had done hadn’t gone away. I was that much closer to the end.

All progress towards a worthy goal is like this. We aren’t able to just plunge in and get there. It takes a lot of work. It takes a lot of time. It takes a lot out of us, but it makes us stronger. The stuff that it takes out is fear of being insignificant, fear of not making a difference, fear that what we have to offer isn’t good enough.

The same is true of any goal. It is easy to put things off because you think you can’t make a difference. It is easy to be jealous of people because they seem to have it all together, so you never even start. Why even try to learn to play the trumpet when Dizzy Gillespie has it down to an art? You can’t ever be that good. So why try?

That kind of thinking is dangerous. That kind of thinking will keep you in a hole forever.

Look at Mozart, or Matisse, or Marie Curie. Each one made it to the top of their field.

They didn’t get it all together all at once. They committed to a goal and worked on it, bit by bit. Nobody loses a significant amount of weight immediately. Nobody gets a college degree overnight. There is often a lot of hidden failure in there.

The trick is, don’t show off the beginner work. Paint over that canvas when you learn a new technique. Don’t think that sloppy painting of a flower is all you can do. You are starting. Every baby has to learn how to walk. Every new skill has to be learned.

Having patience with yourself and the process is helpful. Knowing your limits, and pushing them a little, is helpful too.

When I was in school I’d often get assigned books that weren’t exactly what I wanted to read. I could have waited until the last week and read the book in one fell swoop, remembering only half of it and hating all of the experience. Instead, I decided to use my limited math skills in my favor. I took the number of pages and divided by the amount of time that I had to read. This technique can be applied to anything. Take something you have to do and break it down into little steps.

Slow and steady wins the race.

A Rabbi once said that you can’t burn down a tree with a single match, but if you chop up the tree into small pieces, you can. This is a very useful way to think.

Say you want to do a good deed, a mitzvah. But you don’t think that you can do it all. So you do none of it. The idea here is that it is better to do a little of it than to do nothing at all. And, invariably, you will find that you gain a little more energy and ability towards the completion of your goal from just doing that tiny bit.

Energy leads to more energy. Good creates more good.

It is hard for us to get up enough momentum to do what we know we should do. We take breaks. We stop entirely. We regress. We gain back double the weight we had lost.

I exhort you to get back on and go. I exhort you to keep trying.

I remind you that even just thinking about it, you’ve already taken the first step. That energy can be enough to move on to the next one.

Thank you for your concern for my soul.

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Thank you for your concern for my soul.

Thank you for reaching out to me, exhorting me to “return to the gospel” and to “repent of my sins.”

Your fervent pleas, so heartfelt, only further me on my path.

I follow a Jesus who isn’t prepackaged. I follow a Jesus who offers the Word, instead of lines from a script.

I’m sad to report to you that your message to me reads very harshly. I’m pretty certain that it wasn’t meant that way. I’m pretty sure that you are motivated out of your idea of love. We have to gather in all the lost sheep, after all. We are taught this.

But your words remind me of the times that members of my family tried to shame me as well.

That is what this is.

It is the same as a parent yelling at a child, telling her loudly and firmly that she doing something wrong. They feel that she is doing something so wrong that it is essential to stop her right then and there, before she wrecks her life. They do this out of love, they think.

It is the same as a well-meaning aunt or brother calling the wrath of God down on this same child, for different reasons, for many years. These same people change wills to benefit themselves. These same people lie to get their way. These same people manipulate with other abusive weapons.

God and Jesus should never be used as weapons. They should never be used to abuse another person.

I offer you a new way of understanding God, and Jesus, and the world. I offer you a new way of interacting with them.

I invite you to try to see your words from the perspective of the non-believer. I invite you to see how throwing Bible verses at them does not lead them into the fold, but turns them away. It turns the bread of life into a stone, the same stones that were meant to stone the adulteress. Instead of feeding, your words condemn.

I invite you into an understanding of God as the source of love.

I invite you into this love.

God first spoke to me when I was twelve, standing in my back yard. God has spoken to me many times since, and everything He has told me that was going to happen has happened. I have wrestled with this knowledge, knowing that it is unusual.

Yet I stayed away from Christianity for a long time because of people exactly like you, who made me feel shame for who I am. I stayed away from Jesus because I couldn’t see him for the Christianists who stood in His way.

I invite you into a new relationship with Jesus, and God. I invite you to discover Jesus by serving Him, by finding Him where He is hiding in plain sight. I invite you to find Him in the soup kitchen, at the tornado site, in the mall. I invite you to find Him while you are teaching a foreigner how to read our language. I invite you to find Him while listening to the heartache of a stranger who has been excluded from church.

I invite you to discover the joy that comes from letting God work through you.

I invite you into a relationship with a Jesus who loves all, serves all, and died for all.

I invite you into a bigger love.

This path isn’t paved. This Way is narrow and hard to see. It is a beautiful journey.

I will pray for you, as I hope you will pray for me.

I wish you peace and blessings on your journey.

Love, not fear. (my theology in two pages)

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It is time to stop approaching God on our knees.

Show reverence, respect, of course.

But Jesus makes us worthy to stand before God. Countless times angels appeared to people in the Old and New Testament and people threw themselves down to the ground, and the angel tells them every time to get up, to not be afraid. Don’t be afraid, fear not.

God needs us on our feet so we can serve Him.

There has to be a balance. Too many people these days have taken to the thought that they are God, because they have within them the light of God, which we call a soul. But we are the creation, we are not the Creator. We did not create ourselves. The world existed long before us, and will exist after us.

My theology isn’t a particular one. It is a gestalt, a blend. It is what has been revealed to me. Take it as you will.

I believe that Jesus came to point to God, rather than to himself. I believe that Jesus came to show us a way of life that leads to God.

We need to remember (or know) that God is everything. God is one. God created everything, and everything is God. We are like fish, swimming in the sea that is God. Even the fish are part of that sea that is God.

My theology is derived, gets words from, Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, and the words of Sufi mystics. I’ve found truth in Hinduism. I enjoy reading from all faiths, as well as listening to the voice of God that speaks to my heart.

I believe that God is constantly seeking us. I believe that we are all ministers of and to and for God. I believe a hierarchy of “ordained” and “lay” ministers is dangerous and leads to a sense of “greater” and “lesser than”.

I’ve been asked to cite chapter and verse of how I got to my assertions. To tell you how I got here is to try to point out each block that builds a building. I cannot point out exactly which trees lead me to this forest. I cannot lead you step by step along the path that will lead you to where I am. My belief comes from a lifetime of seeking and being found by God.

To try to point out each piece of the jigsaw puzzle is to miss the whole picture.

I’ve mentioned before in my blog that I am bipolar. I make no secret of it. Take my words as you will. Even if I didn’t reveal that, you should always read/research/reflect on what anyone says for yourself. Never ever entrust your path to another person. Buddha tells us this, and there is a lot of goodness in this. I’d rather have a person encourage me to question than to be expected to follow blindly.

Don’t follow. Walking along with is safer. If you follow, you can’t see where you are going.

My faith is new, and ancient. I’m not creating it out of whole cloth. Neither am I ripping up bits of pieces from all other faith traditions that have been before and making a quilt for myself either. I’ve seen a thread, a theme that runs through. I believe that thread runs from God to us and back to God. I believe that thread connects each of us, across languages, across countries, across cultures, across history.

That thread is a thread of love. We are created by a loving God. We are loved by God beyond words. We are here to make this world better, to let God work through us. We are here to let others know that they are loved by loving them.

We are here to wake up to ourselves, to our calling, to our lives. We are here to be active participants in our lives and in the life of our community and world. We are here to be fully alive.

I keep saying the same things over and over, in different ways. One day I’ll have all the words, and it still won’t be enough. I know I’m missing pieces. I know I’m forgetting to tell you an important part, but I don’t know what. One day I’ll have the experience that will give me a way to explain it. Meanwhile I wrestle, and I try.

You make love visible through living it. Love out loud. Live fully.

You run like a girl.

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What is it with society shaming women about getting fit or challenging gender roles? Why is it lesser to be female than male?

Have you ever heard the phrase “You run like a girl”. Uh, yeah, because I am a girl. You try running with boobs. It isn’t easy.

Sports bras are designed for women who don’t need them. It is very difficult to find a sports bra for the larger breasted woman. They are the ones who need them the most. Women with tiny boobs don’t have to worry about support in the same way that big-chested women do.

Exercise clothes for women are flimsy and they fall apart. They aren’t really meant to be used. Shoes are the worst. Don’t go hiking in women’s boots. They cause blisters and you’ll twist your ankle.

It seems like the clothes and the shoes are for show. They are to make it look like you exercise, but don’t actually make it possible for you to exercise.

If you do actually manage to figure out how to exercise even with the unhelpful clothes and shoes, you’ll get muscles, but a woman with muscles is seen as butch or aggressive. You can’t win.

What about teaching girls to box and teaching boys to knit? Why do we segregate activities into “feminine” and “masculine”? Why can’t we allow anybody who wants to participate in football or ballet to do so?

How come if a woman cooks, she is just a cook, but a man cooks, he is a chef? If a woman sews, she is just sewing, but if a man sews he is a fashion designer? If a man takes on a role that is normally done by a woman, he is considered better at it, a professional. If a woman takes on a role that is normally done by a man, she is not considered valid.

Women engineers? Women architects? Mathematicians, scientists? Women in these fields are actively and passively discouraged and discounted.

I call attention to these issues because they need to change. The first step is admitting there is a problem.

Pastoral Care class, the short version.

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A lot of people don’t know how to be around someone who is grieving. We say insensitive things. We run away, not knowing what to do. I took a class about this, and I certainly don’t have it all worked out or understand it all, but I think some of it that I’ve gleaned might be of help, so I’m going to share it.

Sometimes we say “it will be OK.” I think this is spurred on by fear. The friend doesn’t know how to be with a person who is in pain. They are trying to point towards the future, to point out that this won’t always be this way. The friend isn’t OK with what is happening right now, and doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It is healthy to acknowledge the way things are right now. It is ok to say that things are terrible. Sometimes it won’t be OK. Sometimes it will get worse. You as the caregiver have to be able to be present in the middle of that feeling.

I feel that we are afraid of feelings, any feelings. We are afraid of our own feelings, and of other people’s feelings. We don’t know how to be with someone who is experiencing anything other than joy, especially if that someone is ourself.

The trick is just to be there. You don’t have to fix anything. You just have to listen.

This can be the hardest thing you have ever done.

I heard a story about a man who was trying to help his wife who had breast cancer. He said he didn’t know whether to bring the bucket or the toolbox. He didn’t know if he should just listen to the wails and laments (the bucket) or if he should try to fix things (the toolbox). Sometimes it is a little of both.

We are taught to fix things. We are taught to have solutions. The trick here is that the solution is to let the other person get it out. The way you fix it is to be present to their pain. Feelings have a way of getting stuck inside us. We need to get them out.

We help by letting the other person have a safe place to let them out. How do we make it safe? Listen without judgment. The subject just is, it isn’t good or bad. Listen with your full attention. Don’t check your cell phone or watch TV. Make eye contact. Listen – don’t speak, except to ask questions to further your understanding of the issue.

Ask the person how you can help. Let them guide you. Often what you think they need isn’t helpful at all. Sometimes we will suggest what we would like, rather than trying to understand what the person would like. Sometimes people foist their own wishes and needs off on someone else, and walk away, thinking their duty is done.

I’ll give you an example. My brother sent a lily plant to the house when our Mom died. He expected me to plant it and then take care of it as a living memorial to her. I’d spent a year taking care of her, and he left us alone and poor in that time. There was no way I was going to take care of a lily plant, with finicky rules about how you had to dig it up and store the bulbs in a cool dark place every year. I’d just spent a year watching Mom die. I wasn’t prepared to spend time watching this plant die. I chucked that plant into the English Ivy, to let it fend for itself. His gift was worse than useless.

If the thought is what matters, put some thought into it. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes. If you can’t even get near that idea, ask them what would be useful, and do it.

Don’t ever say “I understand.” You don’t. Even if you have been through the exact same circumstance, you can’t understand what it is like for that person. Each person has a different history and a different emotional make-up. So what should you say? Don’t say anything. Ask. Ask the person to tell you more about it. Ask them to tell you how they feel. Feelings are what matter here.

One of the worst things you can ask is “why”. Don’t use the word “why” at all. “Why” puts people on the defensive. You can say “Can you tell me more about…” for instance.

Remember that it isn’t your pain. This may sound odd to say, but it may help you to have a sense of distance. By not trying to process your own pain, you can be there to help the other person process her pain.

Just wanting to be of help is helpful. It is OK to say you don’t know how to help. Just don’t leave. Keep up with your usual routine with each other. Have tea together, go to movies, have lunch. Make a point of spending time together.

If it is hard for you to be around her pain, remember that it is harder for her to be in the middle of it. You lessen her pain by sharing it with her. And you gain strength and knowledge for the next time you have a friend who is in pain.

Further reflections on my “You keep using that word…” post

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Wow. Welcome to my page. I didn’t really expect this much attention when I posted one of my older posts (“You keep using that word…”) on the Facebook page of “Christians Tired of Being Misrepresented”. I’m grateful for the positive comments and support. I’m glad that people seem to understand where I’m coming from.

Some don’t, and I wanted to address that. I want to make very sure that the point of my post is understood.

There is a term that comes to mind. It is “jingoism”. It can be summed up with the phrase “My country, right or wrong.” It is a blind allegiance to an idea, even if that idea is going totally in the wrong direction. The same can be said of the church, and Christianity. Some people have said I’m attacking the church, and Christians, that I’m being judgmental. I’m not doing either. I’m pointing out that this idea of “my Church, or my Faith, right or wrong” is dangerous. Religious jingoism has gotten us in a lot of trouble.

Are we hanging on to our idea of church because we love church? Or are we ready to honestly examine how we think of church because we love church? I’m in the latter half. I’m not alone.

I want the church to be what Jesus meant for it to be. It often isn’t. It is because I love Jesus that I want the church to be alive, and flourish.

If the church can’t handle a little honest criticism, then it needs it all the more.

Church needs to be about action. We are Jesus’ body in this world. The healing of the world will come through our hands. We are the ones who will teach and nurture and encourage. We are the ones who will bring forth the Kingdom of Heaven.

I’m frustrated when church has become a place to hang out. I’m frustrated when church has become a social club. I’m frustrated when church isn’t about taking care of others more than it is about taking care of its own.

I would hate to think Jesus died for us to get together and sing a few songs on Sunday and then go on our way. I’d rather church be about doing something real with our time together.

When people think of Christians, they need to think of people who want to help. They need to think of people who love unconditionally. They need to think of people who give of their time and talents and treasure to bring forth the kingdom of heaven. Sadly, “church” and “Christian” is all to equated with judgment and exclusiveness. We only have ourselves to blame for that.

I wrote “You keep using that word…” as a wake-up call to Christians. It is to let us know that we have strayed from the path.

I also wrote it for non-Christians, to let them know that anyone who says they are Christian but they don’t act in a loving way, isn’t. That perhaps they should give us a second chance. I almost walked away from Jesus before I even got to know Him, and it was because of Christians.

Pointing out where we have made mistakes isn’t judgmental, in spite of what a few commenters said. It is pointing out hypocrisy. It is saying that our actions don’t match our creed. We just aren’t doing it right.

I want us to do it right. I want us to do it right so much that I write about it, for free, in my spare time. I’m passionate about this.

Keeping going the way we’ve always done it because we’ve always done it that way will be our death.

The church as we know it is dying. Many people have written far better and far more than I have on this. I’m not the first to point this out.

But this doesn’t mean the end of the church. It is just the end of the church as we know it.

And that is a wonderful thing.

We can start again.

We can have church that welcomes everyone, male, female, gay, straight, and from every race and culture and class. We can have church that encourages every person to be a minister, and to use their skills.

Or, this can go like the way of Martin Luther and John Wesley. They tried to reform the church, to make it line up closer to what Jesus meant, and they were ridiculed and ignored. Some listened, and separated off. This isn’t ideal.

I want us all to wake up.

Church isn’t about a building or a minister, or vestments or candles or stained glass windows.

Church is about us, the people of God, honestly serving God by serving His people. His people are everyone. Everyone. Not “the chosen”, not those people in church already, but everyone. Every single person.

I like the Gandhi quote about how he loves our Christ but not our Christians. Gandhi also said “To believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest.” I’m not attacking church, or Christians. I’m pointing out how we are falling short as a body. I’m pointing out that we aren’t living up to what we believe. I want the church to indeed be the Body of Christ, rather than a building where we hang out for an hour once a week. I want the Church to do what Jesus did. Some congregations do, and that is awesome. Some people do, within congregations that don’t. I also want people who aren’t Christian to understand that the people who are the loudest about their Christianity are often what I have seen called “Christianist”. They like the idea of Christ more than Christ. I want better for us. I want the Church to be a force for good. I want to call to attention the Christians who would say Gandhi is burning in hell because he isn’t Christian.

Baby bird (there is more to being an adult than age)

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Just because someone is older doesn’t mean that they are mature. There is nothing about time that tempers a person. There is nothing about getting older that means you are an adult. There is nothing about producing children that makes you a good parent.

You know a tree by its fruit.

Children often wail when they don’t get their way. Adults either yell or sulk. It is the same thing. Sometimes with adults it translates to drinking or drugs. That is just resentment and anger and grief turned inwards. It is socially accepted self abuse.

Four or forty, if you haven’t figured out how to be around yourself, you aren’t very nice to be around. There has to be something in there about self-soothing, about self-control. There has to be something in there about being active and not passive about life.

Life is all about change. Plan for the bumps.

It helps to get into a regular habit of exercise and eating well. Save more money than you spend. Find some creative outlet. Learn about other cultures and ways of thinking.

Break out of your shell.

You are a baby bird, stuck in a shell. You have to break out of it on your own. If someone helps you with it you will die. If you are not strong enough to break out on your own then you aren’t strong enough to survive on your own.

Be an active force. Don’t let life happen to you. Don’t wake up five, ten, twenty years from now and wonder how you got here, sick and dying and your life wasted away.

Blogging about blogging

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You have to be a little arrogant to write a blog. You have to honestly think that you have something to say that other people should read. You have to be a little brave and a little foolish and you have to not care what others think. You have to write for yourself. You have to write for your own sanity.

You have no way of knowing what your audience wants to hear. I’ve written about religion, creativity, getting healthy, women’s issues. I’ve written poetry and compiled lists of books. I’ve gotten new followers after each different thing and thought, if this is what you think this blog is about you are going to be very surprised.

Sometimes I think new people follow me because they have one of those blogs where they get money for each person who clicks on their page, and they want to lure me into doing that. I don’t have any respect for these people and their blogs. They aren’t using their blogs to inform or educate or inspire. They aren’t using their powers for good. I think they are wasting time and talent, and I think that is a shame.

I carry around a notebook all the time. I’m forever getting ideas for topics. If I am at a loss for what to write I just turn to a page and my outline is there. Sometimes I free-write and the ideas I’ve already jotted down are folded into the mix.

Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with ideas that seem so radical and revolutionary that I have to scribble them down before I lose them. Sometimes I’ll be interrupted as I’m writing and I’m concerned that I’ll forget what I was saying.

I started this blog to explain my jewelry. Sometimes I don’t think in words. Sometimes I try to express myself in beads. I can get harmony and rhythm and pattern with beads as well as words. But with beads I have to explain myself. People don’t know the background of the beads. They don’t know the history. So when I’m sharing the story of a necklace that is significant, it is important to give the background story.

I couldn’t figure out how to attach pictures at first. What is the point of talking about beads and jewelry if I can’t show pictures of beads or jewelry? So I just started writing. I planned on at least one post a week, with a goal of three times a week. When Lent came, I made posting a minimum of three times a week part of my discipline. In order to do that I had to make time. I realized I was spending about an hour every morning on Facebook. I was mindlessly using it the same way I used to mindlessly watch TV. So I now write before I open up Facebook, and I find it all works out.

Mindful use of time is really important to me. I don’t know if I would have found this so important if my parents hadn’t died so young, but they did, and I do, so there you are.

I now spend at least an hour writing every morning. I write at lunch. I write when my husband is driving us places. My Kindle is my favorite tool for this. It is terrible for editing but it is fabulous for raw writing. I can then email it to myself and edit appropriately at home.

I now post on average once a day, often more. I have a huge backlog of half-written ideas and even more jottings in my notebooks of other ideas. I feel that it would be nice to have the time to write up all that I have. I also realize that having actual life experiences gives more flavor to what I write. I also realize that if left to my own devices I rarely complete projects. I need deadlines and limits. I need to be yelled at for an hour at the Y to get in my exercise for the day.

Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll run out of ideas. Sometimes I’m concerned that I share the best things first, so if I were to be in an accident I wouldn’t have kept the best for myself.

Sometimes I think nobody is actually reading this and it isn’t going to make a difference at all.

I know that writing is helping me think more clearly.
I know that writing is an important part of my plan to make myself better.

I started posting as notes on Facebook. Then I realized that I wanted to share some of what I’d said with people who weren’t my friends there. I had to create a blog or remember to cut and paste and email each person each piece. Honestly I’m too lazy for that.

There has been a weird side effect of starting a blog. I’m actually surprised that strangers are interested in my words. I’m stunned to see the statistics here, of where everybody is reading from. Romania. Ghana. Zimbabwe. Qatar. The Philippines. Australia. My words are travelling the world.

This is weird and beautiful and amazing.

I hope you get something useful out of my words. I hope you are inspired and encouraged and comforted. I hope you share your talents, whatever they are, with the world. I hope you find you are not alone. I hope you start that project and keep on going until the end.

Parental Advisory

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I worked in a record store when the Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics labels started being put on record albums. I could (and probably will) write a post just about that whole experience, but this is about a specific issue.

I owned two albums that illustrate the problem I have with these labels. One is an album from a band called Ministry. The album is called “The Land of Rape and Honey.” The other is from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. That album is called “Blood Sugar Sex Magik”.

The Ministry album does not have a Parental Advisory sticker on it, but the RHCP album does.

The Ministry album has a song with lyrics about extreme violence – about ripping someone’s head off and defecating on them, because they hate them. There are many uses of the F word.

The RHCP album has nothing of the sort. There is no violence. I listened to the album very carefully and the only thing I can see that might have been the issue is a song about having consensual sex with a female police officer on the hood of her patrol car.

Murder isn’t legal. Talking about murder in a song is legal.

Sex is legal. Talking about sex in a song is illegal.

Do you see the problem with this?

If we want to protect children from learning about things they aren’t ready to handle, I’d think glorifying murder would be tops on the list.

Both involve activities between two people. I can understand putting a label on an album that has a song that glorifies rape. But consensual sex? That is illegal to sing about.

Now, to be really honest, I think that the labels aren’t the issue. I think that parents need to parent their children. I think that parents need to be aware of what their children are reading and watching and be willing and able to help them understand what they are consuming. In the same way a parent should make sure a child eats healthy food and doesn’t consume poison, a parent should make sure their child is able to process music and literature in a healthy way.

I don’t think that the government or the record store or the library should be the teacher. That is the role of the parent.