Art

When I tell people who aren't Mormon that Mormons take for granted that God is an embodied Woman (married to an embodied Man), I'm suddenly reminded of how very Pagan Mormons are and how very cool that is. Unfortunately, Mormons have barely scratched the surface of what this means and who She is, and historically haven't been too interested in delving deeper. Several BYU scholars have remarked at this oddity, and I couldn't more emphatically recommend that everyone read this review on their research. 

Because of many of the points in this article Mormons, despite their theological makeup, have been reticent to artistically imagine Mother God and to me this is a real shame.  However, female deity is hardly a new idea. In fact, it's one of the oldest ideas out there. Check it out. 

And so, lucky lucky me, I get to see how others have filled in the gap. Welcome to The Met, house of depictions of Mother God and Her daughters. 

Today I'm grateful for the belief I have in a Mother in Heaven who is mindful of Her daughters and sons. And for those courageous enough to try to bring her to life in the minds and hearts of others.

Knowledge

Alright, who can look at this painting anymore without thinking of Buster and Papa Bluth? "Arrested Development", I will burn in hell because you make me laugh whenever I look at this once-holy depiction.

 

But let me focus for once and get the weightier matters of this post off my mind so I can get back to my homework.  

As a person of faith I've struggled at times. I've wrestled with doubts. There have been times when my faith has been diminished to near-extinction.   This isn't something we Mormons like to talk about a lot. We prefer uplifting stories that bolster us; and we prefer to feel that our faith in God is indomitable and unbreakable.  If someone has lost faith we often attribute it to some wrongdoing on the part of the doubter. I think we often feel the space of doubt, or even the space between doubt and faith, are areas God would never want us to occupy. Now I'm not so sure.

Early on in my own faith crisis, I realized that although I could respect others' stances as atheists or agnostics, I could never own the titles myself.  The truth is I am a deep believer in gnosis.  In short, I think to reduce the sum total of human knowledge and experience to nothing more than empiricism (as enlightening as it can be) is phenomenally limiting, boring, and sad; meaning that I believe that we as human beings can absolutely know things spiritually or internally that we can't know in any other way; meaning that I believe in so-called mystical enlightenment and that we can receive insight and guidance from unseen places; and meaning that I do actually believe that Truth exists (with a capital T!). 

Sure, I'm often cynical. But I am very genuine about the things I do believe and feel. And the things I don't...I try to be mindful of them. I give myself permission to doubt. I've learned that God doesn't want me to force these things and God isn't always interested in giving immediate answers, and for that I've learned to be grateful. This is what faith is about, after all. Without doubt, why faith? 

God has taught me it's okay to wonder and to question, and sometimes to not believe. In literature studies there is something called "a willing suspension of disbelief". It allows you to plunge into a text, to engage in it and learn from it despite the fact that in most cases you don't believe or know the account to be factual.  You are open to the lessons you need to learn. You are humble. You are searching, always searching.  Most of all, you check yourself; examine your own assumptions, examine your disbelief; you leave your pride at the door.  It allows me to admit that my own knowledge is limited.

Limited, yes. Imperfect, yes. But gratefully so. After all, knowledge is still there, inside of me, in a way that can't really be explained. Knowledge is, above all, about your experiences, and if you've got one or maybe two, or  maybe three of those experiences that you can't explain wrapped up inside of you, maybe you- like me-believe in gnosis too. 

You are welcome to join me at the gratitude photo challenge. 

Test Run: Day Four

The Test Run is officially coming to an end. Derrick will be home any minute, but a commitment is a commitment, so I'll make this quick. As many of you know, today was Conference Saturday. I sat down for four hours and listened to leaders of my church talk about subjects as varied as raising children to increasing one's faith. It was the first time I've watched conference alone since we got married. Maybe ever, actually, since it's usually an activity the whole family takes part in. Point is, today the thing I love about Derrick is his constant drive to be a better person, and I don't mean that in an abstract, achievement-drenched way either. Even though only supposed fuddy-duddies believe in moral codes outside of anything but what seems personally convenient, Derrick takes the idea of a moral code given to humankind by Deity rather seriously and I've come to find this both a refreshing and positive thing.

Off the Shelf: A Woman's Path

Lately I've felt really drawn to female-driven narratives. Memoir has never been one of my favorite genres, but I find myself picking up and exploring more women's memoirs than ever before.

This particular book, which I picked up at Pioneer Books (of course), was a delightful surprise, and the premise is one that I resist and embrace at the same time, if such a thing is even possible. It is simply this:

"In the act of moving from one place to another, somehow a space is created where, if we're lucky, a moment of clarity alights on us and offers a window into our natures, and the nature of everything around us. . . .the act of travel is a potent way indeed of calling forth that inner knowledge. To relearn what we already know on the deepest level; to wake up to it and allow it to change us. Such is the power of the spiritual journey" (xvi).

So now you know the premise, but what is this book exactly? It's a compilation of essays and book excerpts written by women who encountered some sort of enlightening, spiritual experience while they were in the act of moving from one place to another. It has some big names like Maya Angelou, Anne Lamott and Diane Ackerman, but there are some less-known women, and to be honest, I found some of their stories the more compelling and personally applicable.

In many of these essays, the writers were searching for closure or healing. Some were searching for an essential, but missing, part of themselves. Others were just going on with their normal lives and had an unwelcome and surprising epiphany. Two different women found themselves volunteering at two different centers of Mother Teresa's around the world. Another was fleeing from America and the racism she encountered there only to realize that "Expatriation is an unacceptable way for me to respond to the agony of racism. There is no physical place I can go to escape human suffering--my own or anyone else's. There are no untroubled countries. However, as the result of traveling my inner roads, following my dreams and intuitive leanings, I now know that I can be transported to a place of peace. . . .That sacred place of inner calm is my home in the world. It must travel with me wherever I go" (184).

These are wise words for any woman. We must create a home within. Just because no one else can do it for us, however, doesn't mean we do it by ourselves. For this woman it meant discovering the music cherished by her ancestors; for others it could be a beloved friend or mentor; a religious leader; Jesus. The point is, we're not alone, even if the work we do is ours to do.

As I said, I embrace the idea of travel as a means of spiritual awakening while simultaneously pushing against it. How and Why? I personally feel that travel can be an enormous source of enlightenment for many, but it's not a cure-all. The idea that everyone should abandon everything to go and "find themselves" is rather suspect. Wherever you go, there you are and that's a fact. I suppose this is the same reason I resist Elizabeth Gilbert's style of self-discovery ala Eat Pray Love. It's just not do-able or desirable for every woman.

At the same time, however, I do think that opening oneself to the unexperienced may just be part of a formula for enlightened transformation. A favorite quote in the book is "A woman's path need not always take her many miles from home. It will, however, always invite her to let go of where she's been, and to be open to the Mystery of where she's going. Grace will be her guide and will ask her to trust in her own wisdom. In this way, a woman's path will invariably lead her back to her true self, and no path is ever more valuable than this" (58).

I've told you what I think, but what do you think? Do you buy any of this? Have you ever personally experienced a moment of such transformation, whether it was on the other side of the world or a few miles from your own home, or even in your own home? Please share.

Editors: McCauley, Lucy, Amy G. Carlson, Jennifer Leo. A Woman's Path. Traveler's Tales, Inc. 2000.

Sacred Spaces

"Church Going", composed by Philip Larkin, modernist poet, is full of conflicted feeling: a mental tug-of-war between the sacred and the secular, the practical and the ideal, a desire to believe cast against a disgust for superstition. Larkin's speaker in the poem pauses, as is his wont, by a simple church with "matting, seats, and stone, and little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut for Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff up at the holy end; the small neat organ; and a tense, musty, unignorable silence". Compelled by a reverence not quite understood by the narrator, he "signs the book, donates an Irish sixpence" (worthless currency) and reflects that "the place was not worth stopping for". Yet he must admit that he did stop and often does stop, and afterwards always wonders why. But he adds later, "for though I've no idea what this accoutred frowsty barn is worth, it pleases me to stand in silence here".

I'm fascinated by his unbelief, and yet his desire to participate in the sacred; his desire to remove himself, if for only a moment, from the outside world. Sometimes we go to church or stand in sacred places out of habit. Sometimes we don't. It's my belief that the spiritual is an intrinsic element of what it means to be human; some of us take our spiritual lives very seriously, and actively engage and participate in spiritual development. I believe that to ignore the spiritual is to ignore an essential and important part of the balance we are all trying to meet and maintain.

Respect for sacred space and overall continued religious dedication, whatever the religion, is something I like about America. In"Church Going", the narrator wonders aloud what will happen to the church he visits and others that have fallen out of use, as is likely to happen. A friend of mine who happened to be in my modernism class was able to partially answer that question. Having served her LDS mission in Holland, she frequently entered former churches that had been converted into apartment buildings. Ambivalence towards religion isn't necessarily universal in Europe, but it does seem to be epidemic. Figures in the most recent Economist show that "60% of Czechs say they avoid religious services". One wonders if their churches have begun to be converted into housing.

I believe sacred places are important. In my few years as an adult, my place of ultimate spiritual guidance and growth has taken place inside Latter-Day Saint temples. For Mormons like myself, these buildings are so important in our quest to find answers to tough questions, seek guidance from a loving God, and gain perspective during difficult times. I have been and continue to be thankful for my church and my faith.
But sacred places certainly aren't limited to Mormon temples. My aunt who lives in Henderson Nevada, sits on her porch/overlook every evening, and while watching the planes land, gives thanks for her blessings. It's her ritual. I enjoy praying more while on a solitary walk, than on my knees in a carpeted bedroom, but like Larkin's narrator, I find that buildings constructed for the purpose of worship are somehow awe-inspiring.

The narrator ends:

"A serious house on serious earth it is,

In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,

Are recognized, and robed as destinies.

And that much never can be obsolete,

Since someone will forever be surprising

A hunger in himself to be more serious,

And gravitating with it to this ground,

Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in..."

So, I hope in each of our quests to find wisdom- as parents, children, siblings, friends, coworkers or perhaps just as individuals- we might not neglect the spiritual, nor discourage it in others.