A little about who I am

               I hope that in saying all of this, I don't offend any of my family, friends, or unknown people.  It is just about who I am and what I believe.  I am not interested in an argument trying to change my opinions.  I am just introducing myself more fully to the world.  Please, don't take my remarks offensively.

              Much to the disappointment of my family, I am not religious.  Don’t get me wrong, I do believe in God, I just don’t believe that God is a religion, or that he resides in any kind of building.  Rather, I believe that you can only find God within yourself.  William Blake wrote a poem that I think fits my thoughts beautifully.

                “The Garden of Love”

                I went to the Garden of Love,

                And saw what I never had seen:

                A Chapel was built in the midst,

                Where I used to play on the green.

                And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

                And “Thou shalt not” writ over the door;

                So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,

                That so many sweet flowers bore,

                And I saw it was filled with graves,

                And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

                And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,

                And binding with briars my joys and desires.

                You know that old saying, “If a tree fell in the woods, and no one was there to hear it, would it make a sound?”  Well is a forest beautiful without someone there to see it?  I don’t think so, because beauty is something found within us, and seen through only our eyes.  In the same way, God is only in us and exists only as we feel him.  He might be something more, but He is most definitely not assigned to one specific religion.  No one can own God.  God is a name we assign love and guilt.  He is a reason, an answer to questions that it is in our nature as humans to ask, like, “why am I here?” or, “what is my purpose?” 

                I do like the ideas of some religious stories, but these stories are just that to me: a nice story.  They are metaphors, and similes, and I appreciate them the way I would appreciate a good poem.  What is so wonderful about them is that their meaning can change depending on what you are looking for at the moment.  My high school English teacher loved symbolism.  In fact, when speaking of The Great Gatsby, she practically beat symbolism to death.  She would tell us that what we thought the symbol meant was wrong.  I think that she was wrong.  The symbolism we see is what we need to see in our lives.  It is about what we need to find, what we need to hear.  We are, as humans, selfish beings after all. 

                I think that I have had a very narrow view of religion for most of my life.  I was raised a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (aka Mormon).  My parents were very strict Mormons, and we never went to any other church.  When I was younger I probably couldn’t even name any other religions.  They were these mythical things that didn’t exist in our world.  I didn’t fully know how unaware I was until I met a boy who had read the books of five different religions, studied countless books about religion, and had formed his opinions on his own.  I was shocked to hear about this boy who had a choice, and chose to not go to any church, because religions were corrupt, texts were corrupt, and only God is pure, because He is love, peace, joy, and beauty.  He is justness, fairness, equality, and perfection.  None of these things are ever found sitting in a pew for an hour at a time being lectured by an imperfect human using imperfect texts surrounded by imperfect people. 

                Anyway, that experience was the beginning of the opening of my mind religiously.  I began to realize that not all people who were not Mormon were bad, and not all people who were Mormons were good.  I began to recognize that I did not necessarily feel close to God when I was at church.  It was subtle, but it started a chain of thoughts that would eventually unwind my religious tightness, and bring me closer to a God that I had never allowed myself to know. 

                Politics.  Where does anyone stand these days?  Well I have decided I am not affiliated with any one party.  Rather, I am for freedom.  I am for choice.  I am for the government staying out of my personal life.  I am for boundaries and guidelines that allow for growth and choice.  I feel that gun control is knowing how to use your weapons.  I feel that I would never chose to have an abortion, but others should have the right to that choice.  I am not attracted to members of my sex, but I think that love does not have sexual boundaries.  I am proud to say that I have never needed government to hold my hand.  I have never relied on food stamps or government support, and I never will.  It’s kind of like living at home when you are an adult.  When you live under your parent’s roof, you follow their rules.  They own you because they are taking care of you.  In a way, you owe them your entire life.  They give you the necessities, like food and shelter, and you are then bound by an invisible contract to follow their rules or laws.  I do not like owing anyone anything, especially when I am capable of taking care of myself.  I have always been very self-reliant, and I think the government is way too involved in the wrong things, including our personal lives, other countries, and religion.  It is not their place to interfere with our lives.  They are there to protect our rights, not to take them away. 

                I’m afraid I’ve gone too far into politics already, and so I will end all of that with this thought:  There is a lot wrong with our government, but there is also a lot wrong with Americans.  We create diseases that don’t exist in other countries, we are self-centered, pleasure-seeking drones, and I would not be surprised to see a repeat of the great fall of Rome.  On that note, I am done with this.  I wash my hands of it the way that the king washed his hands at the hanging of Jesus on a cross.

                So I guess I should introduce myself.  I am nobody.  I have never done anything erratic, irrational, or sensational.  I am a blue collar, working-class, citizen, barely making enough money to pay my bills.  I did alright through high school, getting into a decent religious college in Idaho, where I attended for two years and dropped out just short of an associate’s degree.  I have never been better at anything than anyone else.  I am not a funny person, although I am really good at laughing.  I am not a smart person, although I am good at working hard. 

I am not plain looking, I am not pretty, I am not ugly.  I’m blessed to not be fat, but cursed with poor health in other ways.  I have a bad habit of picking out my flaws.  I am generally a happy person, although I am also a bit of a pessimist.  I am empathetic to a fault.  Selfishness plagues me constantly.  I am vain and neurotic.  I am judgmental, and I love gossip.  I dislike drama when it is happening to me, but I am obsessed with it in other people’s lives.  I am flawed, I am unimportant, and most importantly, I am aware of all of these things.  They may never change, but that is who I am.  Should I have to be different to matter to someone?  Should every piece of me be perfect?  No.  No one is perfect.  We are all human, and everyone is self-absorbed with animalistic tendencies.  I will change, and I will always be looking to become better than I am.  That is progress.  That is striving toward self-perfection, peace, happiness, love.  I know that I am the only me out there.  I am the only person in the world who has gone through exactly everything I have gone through, who believes in everything I believe in, who wants all of my wants, and that is okay.  That is what makes me special.  Not a job title, not some amazing work of art or science: just the combination of everything that makes me unlike anyone else. 

We measure ourselves in faults and failures.  We measure others in perfections and accomplishments.  This is what drives us to become better human beings.  This is also what drives us to wallow in self pity.  It causes us to be judgmental and angry, or it causes us to revaluate what we find to be important.  It is important for everyone to tango with this imaginary partner, and to allow it to lead us, or teach it to follow. 

Why is everyone so narcissistic?  Hell, I am the perfect example.  I am writing about myself as though everyone would care.  No one cares.  No one will ever read this besides me, and no one would ever want to read it besides me.  I’m not interesting.  I’m not funny.  “I am, yet what I am none cares or knows…”  (from a poem I read somewhere once).  We all think the whole entire world revolves around us.  If I have an ugly day, who in their right mind is going to be thinking about how ugly I am?  That’s right: me.  Everyone else is too busy thinking about how they look, only thinking I’m ugly to make them feel more beautiful.  How terrible is that?  We can’t even appreciate someone else being beautiful because we are too self conscious and jealous.  Yes, this is who I am.  I am the woman who is too lazy to fix her hair before she leaves the house, and then thinks to herself thoughts like, at least I don’t look like THAT ugly fat girl in the corner, or if there’s an especially pretty girl around that I feel threatened by, I can tell she’s such a bitch.  I’ll bet she gets fat when she gets prego for the first time.  I know that these thoughts won’t make me feel better, but there they are, every time. 

I’ve been listening lately to a book on tape.  It’s a very famous book, made into a more famous movie, called Eat, Pray, Love.  She talks a lot about her journey to find peace within herself.  She also talks a lot about finding herself and meditation.  Now I was raised a Mormon.  We didn’t meditate.  We sang a lot.  We read scriptures a lot.  We ate and made crafts a lot.  They aren’t a meditation religion.  Lately though I’ve wanted to try it.  I know, it’s easy enough to just go and try it if I want to, but for some reason I haven’t yet.  I wonder if it’s because I haven’t been truly comfortable with myself since my last relationship when  I was lying about who I was.  Or maybe it’s because I find it more useful to write out my meditations.  Maybe this ‘who I am’ business is my form of meditation.  Okay, maybe not.  Maybe I should just go try it.  It just feels hard to get myself to go try it when there’s so much noise in the world to distract me.  But I guess that’s the point though, isn’t it?  To learn to block out the noise of the world and to listen.