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Sunday, December 11, 2011

Battlefields, Writers, and The Blooming of the Soul

I went to an Episcopalian service today, and I intend to go to a Unitarian service later on tonight.

While at St. Mary's Episcopal Church, I followed along with the service after being fifteen minutes--which no one mentioned, minded, or stared at me for. One of the members gestured for me to sit by him, which was kind and loving. We sang many hymns, listened to the sermon, and my first feeling of spiritual refreshment was in the Prayers of the People, in which I heard the prayers and imagined myself lying on the ground in armor on a medieval battlefield. My hair was tucked into my hauberk, and I lifted my gauntleted hand to feel my steel plate, chain, and leather armor, up to my eyes where I felt the stain and warmth of blood over my face.

My other hand gripped my sword tightly and I smiled. I was still ready to fight in the name of the good that I always fight for. I attempted to stand, and my left leg was shattered at the knee. I staggered back down to the ground, but rose again through the prayers.

"God of the angels, hear us and help us!"

My arms tensed with strength as I placed my weight onto my hands, rearranging my legs.

"God of shepherds, hear us and help us!"

My knee creaked with satisfaction, working out its pain and shattered bones until all was whole again.

"God of the Holy Innocents, hear us and help us!"

The blood cleared from my face, and I heaved in a few breaths as the healing process took its toll on me. I used my sword as a support as I stood over the battlefield of fallen bodies, which gave way to an open plain marked with a sunset of blood red and golden hues.

After having this lovely mental excursion, I remembered what the symbolism had meant to me as a Mormon. The armor of God was what we donned in order to fight the good fight of proselyting and righteous living. I donned it then to keep my soul alive, even if my beliefs were nothing in the breezes and gales of life. I had always put on that armor as a mission, to offer my efforts unto God.

So, I thought, staring at the altar area where Holy Communion took place. "What mission do you have for me now, Father? Devoid of belief and conviction, all but for an steel-cast desire to serve, what mission do you have for me?"

The message hit me like a dump truck. Write! Write! Write! Your soul needs the life and fire given from the very messages that you write! You must finish Faith! Your heart will never be healed until you finish that manuscript! Your soul is tuned and pruned to write and craft words into messages that all of the world will know by the time your life comes unto its nightfall!


Well then, I laughed to myself. Perhaps Durkheim was right. Perhaps prayer was little more than hearing exactly what you desired--after all was said and done in the arguments of your own heart.  Perhaps it was a psychological benefit for the individual alone, and didn't work outside of the heart.
Then why did this feel so right? Why did I feel like I was in the perfectly right place at the right time, I wondered.

Before I took the communion, I felt my stress start rolling off my back like a heavy fur cloak being dropped off of my shoulders. I could keep giving that stress and shoving it off, and it kept leaving. I took the communion and felt the wine burn down my throat. As I continued to focus on the ritual, I felt the power of the ritual remain. That rarely ever happened, I noted to myself. If I could piece apart a ritual, it no longer held power. Yet, the power of the communion remained.

Later on, after the luncheon, I started walking out of the door when I had a strong impression say "Sit down and talk to those ladies. If they don't speak to you, you can go on home, and you've lost nothing."

Very well, I decided. I had an hour before I'd decide whether or not I would visit the LDS ward.

I sat down and had an hour-long discussion about writing with the lovely Susan Kroupa. She gave me advice and advice again about writing and resources to turn to, and I'm still nearly crying from the serendipity of that little push I had to go talk to her. She thought I looked damn well familiar, and I thought she was familiar as well. We've both had some experience in the area (this valley is full of writers, by the way,) and we genially figured that we had seen each other around.

I drove home with a huge smile on my face. I had been in the right place at the right time! I had felt what I needed!

Yet, I was concerned. I was confused by all of the mixed feelings that I had for ritual, spiritual community, Christianity, Christ, and God themselves. I silenced my thoughts into a spiritual quiet, and started asking questions of the spiritual experiences that I had. I thought of my recent experiences with Christ and God, and wondered just how it was that I was supposed to gain comfort from them when they remained fleeting feelings and visions.

I demanded, "Where are you? You keep popping up, but you're never fully there! I'm ready for more, I want more from you!"

"Your desires are valid, and your desires are good. However, you must wait--not for holiness. For you. You need to wait for you. You've been in armor for so long that trying to release your soul as fully as it should be would tear you to pieces if it happened all at once. You have been in so much pain for so long that your soul needs fair, delicate treatment. It will refuse anything more than that. If this is going to happen, it must happen slowly or not at all. Small, short events, one at a time--that is the way. If you peel back the petals of the flower ever so slowly, you will find yourself again. Quickly, and the entire blossom will be shredded into pieces. Slowly, my dear, slowly, just one piece at a time. I promise that we will heal you, through the spiritual and emotional means as well as the means that this world has to give you."

I was able to keep driving and cried once I got home and listened to this song. I am going through a deep healing process right now, both through medication and through psychology. I have been rooting cruel people and influences out of my life, and it is a very long and difficult thing to do--to rid someone from your life. However, if you've been waiting on the question for over a year, perhaps it's time. As my friend Meghan once said, "Follow your heart." While scholarship and research are necessary in knowing how a religion and spirituality can and will affect you, the heart is the best guide to the maps of heaven.

I don't know what church I will join, or what denomination where I will find peace. However, the Episcopal church seems to be a fine place to start. We'll see how the Unitarian Church goes later this evening.

-Amber 

Saturday, November 19, 2011

A moment to myself

I just attended my grandmother's funeral services, and I feel cheated in a way. I felt like I wasn't able to say goodbye or good luck to her. It was strange to hear so much about her and find that the two of us were very alike. I just pray that I don't raise copies of her sons.

I was not able to cut all ties with Mormonism just yet due to a wish to protect my boyfriend, although part of me is dying to destroy the echoes of that past for good.

I apologize for the rushed nature of the posts, but wifi-time is short and my obligations are long. I remember the promises I made here and will attend to them soon.

-Amber

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Potential End Game - Tithing Settlement

Today, I have the chance of going to an LDS tithing settlement and telling the new bishop exactly what I think of the LDS church. I want to split myself from the church forever. I'm tired of faking faith and faking belief in things that are in direct opposition to my true thoughts and beliefs.


I'm tired of running and hiding, like a thief in the shadows of alleyways. I want to present myself and express myself even more proudly than I did at SLC Pride in 2010. Later today, you will see my personal treatise as for why I will not count myself as an LDS member. As long as it does not hurt the ones I love, the end game could start today.


-Amber

Saturday, November 12, 2011

First Day Mapping Spiritual Roads

The most recent spiritual guidance that I have had pointed me in the direction of reading. I was given the direction to read the New Testament and the book Understanding Our Minds, which I picked up in India during the early days October in 2009. In the last few days, I have had brief connection with what feels like a great being that watches over the universe. Christians would know the being as God, and yet I shy away from that name due to my own past experiences with God.


I don't know if it represents any religion, but I do know that it represents something truthful. I asked it how it felt about knowledge and truth, and if I could apply logic to said god. "Go right ahead," the reply came. "Truth comes in many forms, and to refuse logic would be to refuse truth."


I took notes on the first chapter of the New Testament today, and I think I'll put up some notes tomorrow, when I'm less exhausted.


-Amber


PS - I don't know if this is the God of Christianity, but it's more loving and clear-minded than anything I've met so far.



Friday, November 11, 2011

Muttered Introductions

I'm lost, and no maps aid me. I have been weighed down with so many questions, and no answers are solid enough. I present them to the great examiners inside my own mind, spiritual, emotional, factual, logical, empirical, naturalistic, all of them. All evidence, time and time again, turns to dust in my hands as their eyes examine and watch whatever idea it may have been. There has been so much dust that it all feels like a desert. I walk through sands of spiritual questions, and my life experiences and my religious past trail behind me as a long desert caravan follows a silent scout. No water stays fresh long enough for me to settle down, and all oases seem to vanish before my eyes.


I am a spiritual sojourner and a religious scholar. I have studied many things, and have tried many things. I have emptied my cup time and time again, and I wait to see if that cup will crack from all of the sudden heat that has rushed in and out with it--religious beliefs coursing in and out of my heart. I don't know what I believe, and this blog is meant to help me figure it out.


One belief that I do hold was spoken by the Dalai Lama and many others. "Take the road that leads to heaven. Take the road that will make you fit for heaven."


Also, even more important that being fit for heaven is being worthy of the life we were given. We were given such bodies, minds, and souls with such abilities and capacities--how dare we not use them to the best and most proactive of our abilities. How could we die knowing that we had tossed that aside during our lifetimes? Would they really matter so much to us afterward in the afterlife if they meant nothing to us here?


I feel like a monster that cannot be sated, a devotee desperately grabbing for the remnant of the divine cloak, or the child looking up at the stars and waiting for something to answer her back. I wish for something beyond the fire of my soul to be the guiding star for my own heart, but for now, that is the light that I will sketch my spiritual map by.


-Amber