A Woman’s Faith

Mar 14, 2013 | Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power

It takes faith to be a woman. Whether married or single; a mother or not; a lover and/or friend; self-employed, other employed, or unemployed; a home owner or renter; physically fit or not; old(er) or young(er); extroverted or introverted; religious/spiritual or atheist/agnostic; sister, cousin, aunt, daughter. Each of these requires something more of us, takes something more from us, and calls forth something more in us.

This is not the Faith of our Fathers: a rock solid, immovable system of belief in a male god, a hierarchical church, a patriarchal theology and all the tenets therein.

This is the faith of our Mothers: oft’ unknown and unnamed by them, but ours to carry, to name, to memorialize, to grieve, and to heal. This is a faith that is fluid, highly adaptable, feminine, and grounded in a belief in self.

This is a woman who knows, relies on, and makes her substance known/seen in every realm – living out loud in unconscious, gracious, natural ways. A woman who understands her power, her presence, her passion. A woman who imbues life and wisdom in every conversation and relationship. A woman who gives a resounding, “Yes!” to all things beautiful , tender, vulnerable, courageous, and justice-
focused.

A woman who risks everything for what/who she loves. A woman who sacrifices and suffers much on behalf of her own heart and the hearts of others. A woman who can see the impact and ramification of her words, her thoughts, her actions and chooses integrity, compassion, and generosity at every turn.

A woman who extends herself and others grace. Who does not hide in places of shame or silence; rather, can and will acknowledge her goodness (sometimes fleeting and floundering, other times bold and amazing) and her truest voice. A woman who knows patience – with self and with others.

A woman who is real. Afraid. Tentative. Hopeful. Dangerous. Weighing. Balancing. Walking a tightrope. Hanging on by a thread. Loving with abandon. Getting burned. Making mistakes. Achieving greatness one moment at a time. Believing in herself. Laughing. Weeping. Comforting. Knowing. Holding.

The Sacred Feminine with flesh. The power, knowledge, and beauty of the ages woven into her heart, her mind, her soul. Undaunted. The goddess within. Not an entity outside ourselves in which we place our belief, our trust, our hope. She is seen and experienced in a strength, a power, a beauty we know in our bones – even if only faintly – as an echo, a whisper, a breeze.

This knowing, this belief, this faith is intuitive, resonant, and wholly ours. We imbibe it/her. We inhabit it/her. And she inhabits us.

Have faith, woman. She is here.

In Me. In You.

A Meditation Gone Awry

Mar 1, 2013 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I listened to a meditation a few days back called, “Inner Goddess.” What enticed me to such? First, it was free. But second, really, how could I resist that title? Not seconds in, I heard these words:

“To experience a sense of transformation is to call upon all the other women who have lived throughout time; that have embodied certain qualities that we want to strengthen within ourselves.”

Though the calm voice intended for my breath to slow; mine caught in my throat. I gasped. My pulse quickened. And my mind leaped far beyond her words into concepts, ideas, and entire worlds of my own.

Somewhere in the distant recesses of my mind I heard her mention Isis, Medusa, Aphrodite, and others. I listened, distractedly, to the affirmations she called forth; specific messages each of these goddesses wanted me to hear, incorporate, and believe. But more, I recognized my heartbeat – a deep, steady “yes” that longs for, trusts in, and knows this connection to other women who have lived throughout time; for me, the ancient, sacred women of Scripture.

Maybe this is uniquely my bias, but it seems we are far quicker to assimilate the relevance, messages, and presence of goddesses like Isis, Medusa, and Aphrodite than we are those of Eve, Hagar, and Mary (just to name a few). We have the conceptual bandwidth to understand and allow for the influence of mythic archetypes, but find ourselves quickly tripped and bound by the biblical text (and accompanying doctrine, religion, dogma, conservativism, et. al.) within which so many incredible and inspirational women’s stories dwell.

This is not only problematic, it is nearly unacceptable.

Today, were a woman’s identity known only as “the wife of…” she would rail, scream, and fight. And yet, we are content to let Eve and her lineage’s identity remain only as “those stories in the Bible.”

As long as we do, we are disconnected from our own lineage and our own legacy.

This breaks my heart.

This propels me forward.

This transforms my life.

That is not to say that I don’t understand others’ perspectives and experiences. It can feel messy and tricky and even seemingly dangerous to wander into Scripture; so prone are we to distrust what’s housed within or the agenda of the one who is interpreting it. Still, the beauty and wisdom inherent in these ancient sacred narratives is powerful and cannot be denied. Like the Greek and Roman goddesses, these women too, are available (and waiting) to be called upon, invited, and heard.

This is what I attempt to do: resurrect, re-imagine, re-tell their stories so that they are redeemed; but more, so that we might be strengthened by their companioning presence, their hard-won wisdom, their connection to our truest self. I’ve done it over and over with Eve; the gorgeous women even giants couldn’t resist; Noah’s wife; Sarai; the Extravagant woman; and so many more to come.

I’m just getting started.

It’s possible, of course, that I’m preaching to the choir; that I’m writing this post for the sole purpose of convincing myself of what I most need to hear. If so, I’m fine with that. But if, somehow and miraculously, my words are what you need to hear as well, then you can be certain that I am smiling…and…feeling my breath catch in my throat while my heart beats, “yes.”

Trust me, Eve and so many others are experiencing the same resonant response – each of them inviting you to call upon them, beckoning you to know them, encouraging you to walk with them; but more, to experience the sense of transformation we so passionately long for and which can so readily be found in those who have gone before us – who remain with us, even now.

“To experience a sense of transformation is to call upon all the other women who have lived throughout time; that have embodied certain qualities that we want to strengthen within ourselves.”

May it be so.

Eve Screams “No!” (Part 2)

Feb 14, 2013 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

Part One of this post was written a few days ago, prompted by an all-too-familiar place of self-contempt. Through the din of that negative, internal chatter I heard Eve scream, “No!”

Eve’s scream on my behalf compels an even more piercing one on behalf of her daughters.

Eve screams, “No!” at the angering reality that one in three women on the planet will be raped or beaten in their lifetime.

Eve screams, “No!” at the unimaginable levels of atrocity that are too often ignored, dismissed, politicized, and thereby increased.

Eve screams, “No!” to the excruciating awareness that the very telling of her story has, at least in part, contributed to unimaginable harm to her legacy and kin.

Eve screams, “No!” as she watches girls sold, women abused, bodies torn, and hearts broken.

Eve screams, “No!” to any and all ways in which her lineage are denied their freedom, their desires, their appetites, their longings; any and all ways in which they are told to be silent, play small, take the blame, and feel shame.

She does not scream alone.

Another Eve stands alongside her who champions the same. Eve Ensler is an activist and author of The Vagina Monologues. She is also the leader of the ONE BILLION RISING movement, its culmination occurring today – around the world – as one billion women and men rise on behalf of the one billion women who will be impacted by violence; who will experience anything less than their divine heritage as Eve’s daughter.

ONE BILLION RISING is:

  • A global strike
  • An invitation to dance
  • A call to men and women to refuse to participate in the status quo until rape and rape culture ends
  • An act of solidarity, demonstrating to women the commonality of their struggles and their power in numbers
  • A refusal to accept violence against women and girls as a given
  • A new time and a new way of being

Eve’s primal, DNA-level scream of “No!” is embodied in Eve Ensler’s invitation to us: to dance, to walk out, to rise up, and demand that violence against women and girls end.

These Eve’s together – their screams (and their hearts) compel ours. And ours, united, can change the world.

Join ONE BILLION RISING. Scream-and-rise-and-dance-and-walk out on behalf of your forebear – the original Eve, in solidarity with Eve Ensler and one billion others, and on behalf of all Eve’s daughters.

We cannot return to the Garden of Eden (nor would we want to), but we can reclaim a world imbued with a loving God; where both genders are equal, empowered, and honored; where choice and freedom and unbridled desire reign; where endless, tenacious hope swells.

Worth screaming for. Worth rising for. Worth dancing for. Worth living for.

Eve shouts, “Yes!”

Eve Screams “No!” (Part 1)

Feb 11, 2013 | Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

The light catches my iPad screen in such a way that my reflection stares back. I look away. I hate what I see.

Familiar, lifelong contempt twists my heart as tears form in my eyes.

I take in the scene that surrounds me. The gorgeous hotel lounge in which I sit. An unobstructed view of the Puget Sound, the Cascade mountains, ferries, sailboats, and hundreds of gulls traversing back and forth across the waters. A delicious glass of red wine. Three uninterrupted hours to think, to write, to reflect.

Despite my luxurious surroundings and generous time; despite a spaciousness that removes me (even momentarily) from anxiety about money or work or daughters or relationship or just the day-to-day stresses of life; despite a deep awareness that I am appreciated, respected, cherished, and loved; despite a system of belief that tells me I am created in the very image of God, I can, in one quick glance, lose sight of it all and see only what I lack, what I fear, what I despise, what I wish.

Piercing through my downward spiral of self-deprecation, Eve screams,

“Nooooooo!”

Eve screams, ”No!” because she is tired of the voices within me that have hissed too loudly and too long for hers to be heard.

Eve screams, “No!” to jar me out of my complacency, to unnerve me, to shake me loose from all that binds, to wake me up, to open my eyes.

Eve screams, “No!” because she cannot, any longer, allow for any telling of my story that is less than glorious, gorgeous, or full of grace.

Eve screams, “No!” because she’s been silenced and shamed far too long; because she knows that her silencing and shaming has impacted mine.

Eve screams, “No!” because she can see what the world looks like when I walk through it aware of who I truly am; a world that awaits my presence, my profoundness, my perfection.

Eve screams, “No!” because she’s wants more from me, more for me, more . . . more . . . more . . . She is hungry for all the deliciousness I have to offer and she makes it clear she will remain ravenous until fed.

Eve screams, “No!” because she knows of the wisdom, compassion, and strength that her lineage can and must wield; ways of being/doing/loving that shatter old paradigms and create brand new ones.

Eve screams, “No!” because it’s time. It’s time for me (and you) to rise up, to stop listening to all that haunts, and proudly, boldly, confidently step forth; to leave Gardens overgrown with weeds that have choked the life out of me and deliberately, bravely step into a vast wilderness of adventure, passion, and fierce faith.

“Remember who you are: MY daughter, MY lineage, MY kin! You are the pinnacle of the Divine’s creative work: perfect, whole, and complete. Listen to me. Look at me. See yourself in me. As my descendant, you are royal and beautiful; regal and strong. Hold your head high. Do not doubt. Do not waver. Do not succumb to the usurpers (within and without) who attempt to pull you from your rightful place, your regal throne. Adjust your crown. Grasp your scepter a little tighter. Look that serpent in the eye and reach—toward all that awaits you, toward all who love you, toward the woman you truly are.”

I glance back down at the iPad screen, allowing my eyes to move through the words and deeper still, back to my reflection. A slight smirk. A sly wink. The faintest whiff of an apple . . . 

And I Roar!

Jan 28, 2013 | My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power

Commemorating the 40th anniversary of Roe v. Wade

In this moment, one’s feelings about, or position on abortion are not what matter. What does matter, a lot, is that a woman’s right to manage her own body is still, or ever has been, at question. How is it possible that this topic is even entertained in politics, religion, or cultural critique of any kind? How is it possible that anyone is still talking arguing about this? Why is this legitimate tenet given enough media coverage to continue being discussed and proselytized?

It’s an old, sad story…

The Old Testament tells of Esther; a young girl who was captured and then taken to be part of the King’s harem. She was prepped and readied for a year before being eligible to be “chosen” by him then risked life and limb to protect her people from a route of ethnic cleansing by the king’s power-hungry, right-hand man. It is from this text that we hear the well-known words spoken by Esther’s cousin, Mordecai:

“Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have been made queen for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:12-14)

Esther’s is a powerful narrative worth knowing, (re)telling, and redeeming; words themselves that impact and transform when internalized and allowed to inspire. And (as is always the case) her story rests on the shoulders of another’s: Queen Vashti.

The prequel…

The King had been celebrating (translate: drinking) for days. A huge party that included all the dignitaries and military leaders under hisreign. On day 7 of this endless revelry, he remembered his wife, Queen Vashti, and called for her to join him.

“…he commanded the seven eunuchs who served him to bring before him Queen Vashti, wearing her royal crown, in order to display her beauty to the people and nobles, for she was lovely to look at. But when the attendants delivered the king’s command, Queen Vashti refused to come. Then the king became furious and burned with anger.” (Esther 1:10-11)

Her “no” unleashed a chain of events that culminated in losing her throne and being deposed. And this led to the region-wide search for all eligible young girls, including Esther. These realities, in and of themselves, are upsetting, but it’s the reasoning diatribe that ensued about why Vashti had to go that causes me to hyperventilate almost every time I read it:

One of the nobles present said, “. . . the queen’s conduct will become known to all the women, and so they will despise their husbands . . . There will be no end of disrespect and discord.” (Esther 1:16-18)

My response . . . 

I’m taking deep breaths.

(Parenthetically, let me calmly state that this is exactly what has happened for centuries upon centuries. Women’s lack of rights, silencing, less-pay-for-equal-work, and an exhausting list of atrocities borne throughout time has, in large part, been motivated by the same reality that motivated King Xerxes: fear. Fear of a woman’s strength. Fear of a woman’s power. Fear of a woman’s “no.” Even fear of a woman’s “yes.”)

Enough of the deep breaths. Enough of the calm. I feel the emotion build – way, down deep within. I roll my shoulders back. I stand up even taller . . . 

And I roar . . . 

on behalf of Queen Vashti-deposed and Esther-turned-concubine-and-queen. On behalf of Eve and Noah’s wife and Sarai and the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet with her tears and the hundreds and hundreds of ancient, sacred narratives of women waiting to be heard, understood, and honored. On behalf of the countless named and unnamed women before Roe v. Wade and after. On behalf of you. On behalf of me. On behalf of my daughters. On behalf of our daughters. And on behalf of our sons, our husbands, our fathers, our lovers, our friends.

And I roar . . . 

until the day when it never occurs to me to write this post. Until the day when the sacrifices of so many are a distant, but esteemed memory. Until the day when terms and concepts like feminism and record number of women in Congress and sexual trafficking and rape and domestic violence are no longer in our lexicon or shared consciousness – other than to proclaim, again and again, the stories of those who suffered so we don’t have to.

And I roar . . . 

to praise the enduring strength and power of women. No matter the obstacles, the harm, the silence, the struggle. This is the nature of women. This is the capacity of women. This is what we do. Not as martyrs; rather as necessary and willing fighters, advocates, lovers, fierce friends, champions of truth and justice and all-things-good-and-right.

And I roar . . .

in the belief that despite how heavy our hearts and sore our throats, we do and will have the strength to continue, to keep hoping, to keep believing, to keep our desires for healing and change alive . . . 

. . . for such a time as this.

Lucky are you, reader, if you happen not to be of that sex to whom it is forbidden all good things; to whom liberty is denied; to whom almost all virtues are denied; lucky are you if you are one of those who can be wise without its being a crime. ~ Marie le Jars de Gournay, from “Grief des Dames” (1626) as quoted by Elise Boulding in The Underside of History.

We are lucky. And with such privilege comes responsibility – and a roar that has the potential and passion to shake both earth and heaven.

So go ahead and roar – on behalf of women’s stories, your stories, and all else that matters. I hear you. And I feel the quaking even now.

As it should be.

Our Heritage is Our Power

Jan 4, 2013 | Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

I had a gorgeous hour on Skype with Amy Palko today. A quick skim of topics included online business, abortion rights, driver’s licenses, culinary delicacies, life with teenagers, passive revenue streams, archetypes, goddesses, and . . . romance novels.

She talked of her current intrigue in self-published romance novels (a burgeoning quantity within the past few years, she says). Previously controlled almost exclusively by major publishing houses, that choke-hold has loosened, if not completely broken free with the advent of
self-publishing. Now, anyone (including me), can put their words into print! For women this is particularly significant: a forum in which we can say what we want with no need for permission or privilege.

This is not new. Amy told me of a lecture she gave about the gendered nature of blogging; the way in which it mirrors (and amplifies) what we’ve seen for centuries in women’s diaries and journals. Safe space in which women have articulated their coming of age, their deepest desires, their voice – unedited and unrestrained.

We agreed:

As women, we need a place to tell our stories – and hear each other’s. If it’s not provided or encouraged by the systems and structures within which we live, we will make a way.

As we talked, I felt a growing sadness within; truth-be-told, even a tinge of anger. This does not happen in Scripture. Women’s own voices and candid, raw experiences have not been captured or curated. And because of such, we have no sense of how they experienced their own coming of age, their own desires, their own experience of voice (or not). We have no way of connecting to them. Not really. Or at least, not enough.

It’s no wonder we struggle to find ourselves within those pages. We’re not there! Not in the connective, resonant, “yes” sort-of ways we intuitively create and crave.

Lest you despair, know that I do not. (Well, not for long, anyway.)

This is what I do and why I do it!

Women’s stories desperately long to be discovered, told, and honored throughout the pages of Scripture for (at least) two reasons: 1) because they are there, often between the lines, and waiting to be told, but boldly, beautifully present nonetheless; and 2) without them, our stories are incomplete – so formative and embedded are these texts in our culture, our politics, our structures of power, our religion(s), our social systems, our everyday world.

Judy Chicago, feminist artist of The Dinner Party said: “…all the institutions of our culture tell us through words, deeds, and even worse, silence, that we are insignificant. But our heritage is our power.”

I could not agree more. And I could not hope more. Our heritage is our power. Our stories, past and present, can and must be told.

Women’s voices, past and present, can and must be heard. It is not too late.

Mmmhmm. And then some.

May it be so.