Hello God, it's Me...But I'm Not Margaret

Okay, it seems a little religion heavy, but for some reason I’m being inundated with religions conversations – left, right and center. But as always, it proves fruitful…at least when I talk about it (debate may be a more accurate term; arguing is even more precise), I have opportunity to refine my thoughts. It’s not like this gal couldn’t use a little more ladylike refining….

Tradition is lovely. It gives place in the world. It does an amazing job of giving us context and location – in time, in space, in culture. But occasionally it requires a smidgen of examination. Well, it does if it’s religions tradition.

There is nothing like the sweet escape from the maddness of parentally imposed religion – yeah, I know that it’s part of the individuation process, and it’s supposedly part of psychological progression, but seriously, admit it, it’s nice to challenge the old rents’ matrix.

Mitigating circumstances aside, I'd have to say that probably the distaste for man made religion in the first place is that obedience (uncompromising attachment) to some arbitrary rules and regulations seemed completely illogical. All rationality aside, I always thought spirituality was supposed to *feel* right or good. What I was brought up with didn't feel right, and it still doesn't feel right, so I don't want to do it. I wanna feel good about the unknown mystical outter whatever and I'm still a huntin' for what feels good. If I never find it, I don't know that it matters, as long as I don't stagnate and give up the pursuit.

I remember the moment I told my father I didn't believe in his church, and I remember how much it hurt him. I also remember him telling me to never say that in front of my mother because it would kill her. I suspect he was and still is right about this. Pops and I had a conversation a few years back in which he asked me if I believed in God.

I told him I was still sussing out the notion of God, although if there was one I figured he'd have a few different qualities than what I'd be taught. What caught me by surprise - and he's never admitted it since - was that there were aspects of his religion he didn't quite believe in, but that he had to *really* take on faith in order to accept the whole - and he did mention some doctrinal aspects that are lynch pins to his religion. I took comfort from the thought that even my father (such a monumental figure) had doubts about his belief system.

Last Sunday, we had another little chat. Aside from a revelation (ahem, couldn't help it) from him about a few serious moments (months) of doubt about the existence of God (from a man who is incredibly active and devout in his faith) - which did shock me, by the way - he brought the conversation around to the need for a firm belief.

I think to what I wrote a few days ago about the need for explanation. It seems a more concrete idea to me, a more concrete need in all aspects of our lives.

Chatting with my buddies, my various boy buddies (hey guys, it’s not an insult, some of you are still boyishly charming!), about when men actually to be called "Men". I’ve arrived at several conclusions based on extensive research (ahem) and experience (cough). It’s more of a theory, really, but the empirical evidence seems conclusive.

I’m going to address you all in second person, forget the tired old third person voice for this one…I really am talking directly to my buddies.

So, on to my theory about the progression of maturity in the good ‘ole XY. It's an age thing - something doesn't go off in the brain until you guys are about 32, and then the first inkling of humanity starts to take shape. Up until then, your lot is pretty consumed with shiny things, toys and tail. Y’all are magpies and you’re fine with that (hell, we're fine with it too, you peacocks you!). Early 30s you start to figure out that there is more to life than strange *naughty word* and big eff-off toys; you start to realize that it's about the interpersonal connections you make, foster, share, nurture with people (of either sex and to various degrees).

Late 30's something *really* clicks and most guys wake up to the fact that you can't take it all with you, that you’re *not* defined by what you have or what you do for a living. Slowly, but surely, you begin to realize that you really want to create a life for yourselves, and that a full life usually involves another person specifically, and other well-cultivated relationships in general.

It's at this point where you start to bear responsibility for your feelings and your needs (and thank God when you all finally start to be able to identify what you're feeling and being able to label those feelings…by the way, what is it about guys needing labels for things..."It's got to have a name!"...), that you start to earn the title of "Men".

At least, that's what I've reduced the whole thing to, based on my experiences with guys in the 30s & 40s. (I've tried explaining this to guys still in their 20s, but for some reason they don't want to hear it....and interestingly enough, it's only guys in their late 30s who ask when they become men...food for thought there.)

There is nothing sexier than a Man.

Masochism 101

A recent conversation about plain ole’ stubborn grips on old belief systems has me pensive, yet again.

It’s difficult to have a conversation with anyone who is married to a particular set of beliefs, granted I prove just as obstinate as the next person when my way of thinking is questioned. In an ideal world we’d all have enough patience to let someone actually share their paradigm, listen, think about it, and *then* proceed with caution to rip ‘em apart and shatter the other person’s world view.

I think we initially reject any bit of information that counters our preformed notion of what the world is – automatic rejection. It’s almost instinctual. There's a phenomenon with a particular name (wish I could remember it, I also wish I weren’t so lazy as to not look it up) where we all hunt down info to lend credit to our already established beliefs - reinforcement, if you will - that seems hardwired in human nature. It does boil down to fear - or monumental ego in some cases - that what we've given purpose to is really a figment of our imagination. I'm scared shitless that my entire life will have been pointless (that whatever causes or pursuits I've spent energy on). The last few years I've been mired in an existential crisis, trying to find meaning in anything, realizing that only I can give meaning/importance to something, and finding that more often than not, I haven't valued my opinion enough to believe that something I make matter actually matters. It's a depressing thought. The realization scared me to the core. I remember sitting outside a coffee shop with my best friend and having that little tid bit dawn on me. The floodgates opened, and I spent an August afternoon crying my heart out. There are times when it still pierces me and I ache...Why would anyone want to feel that way when they can avoid the whole crisis by *not* testing their beliefs? There's a masochistic streak in those of us who want the puzzle to make sense.

Now if the masochism would bring me a little pleasure instead of pain.

The masochist says to the sadist, "Hit me." The sadist says, "No."

See! The old adage just proves my point – the initial reaction is always negative…

Systems Breakdown

It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to really say, but I’ve been musing about a few things lately, so I figured I’ve articulated, I might as well put them up to remind myself ten years from now what I was thinking at the time. Undoubtedly, I’ll find myself ridiculous and sadly confused at the ripe old age of 30 something. Not that I plan on evolving all that much, but fate (or life, rather) will surely dictate that I refine a few of my opinions. That being said, here goes nothing…

I have a theory that we do everything in our lives - make all choices - in order to reduce our anxiety, and that we will often choose the miserable known over the fearful unknown because the unknown makes us more anxious than the detrimental known. I also believe that most of our lives are spent seeking explanation - trying to find our location in space, time, thought and energy.

I suppose the crux of my argument is that religion (or any belief paradigm) is constructed to provide explanation, to provide comfort, to reduce anxiety. We continue with scientific research in order to get explanation, we construct formulas to provide explanation, we try to create pattern in others' behavior to provide explanation...we are seduced by conspiracy theories because they provide pattern and explanation for what is otherwise inexplicable.

I'm sure we could apply systems theory to pretty much everything in life. That's what seems to make it so difficult...everything is connected, linked, related. Makes it utterly impossible to take a firm position on anything anymore.

When it comes down to it, most people I discuss this with don’t particularly embrace my notions about what a comfortable state of understanding is. Seems that most people want, need, crave comfort (in terms of a belief system), and I’m okay with knowing, with limbo, with the possibility that comes along with not being tied down to one concrete belief.