What I Know

• I know that I don't know the answers.
• I know that I'm no longer willing to quit asking questions when the prophet has spoken.
• I know that I don't believe being buried in ghastly dress, robes, apron, and veil is going to send me straight to heaven. (Note to any family members who might be reading this: I want you to dress me in something that I'd wear in real life, and not my temple clothing [which is just as well, because I threw them in the trash]. May I suggest skinny jeans, grannie boots, a purple tank, and a black leather jacket?)
• I know that I don't believe my body can only be resurrected (if physical resurrection happens at all) if I choose cremation over burial. And yes, cremation, please. It's not like I'm going to be inside my body at that point.
• I know that it's impossible to know what happens when we die until we die. For example, whether he was right or wrong while he lived, Christopher Hitchens now knows absolutely what happens after death.
• I know that it's okay to not know, to ask unanswerable questions, to question authority.
• I know that any authority that refuses to allow questions to be asked is unrighteous (I hesitate to use that word, but I'm not sure what other word to use).
• I know that in the essentials, I haven't changed that much since leaving the church. I was a bit of a rebel for the last 11 years, and didn't fit in anyway. I still feel like myself, just with far less stress and angst.

I don't understand how we can be judged solely by our actions and our obedience to the dictates of others. If I am here to learn lessons, that means that I am not expected to be perfect. I tend to learn things the hard way.  That means I make mistakes, wrong choices, fuck up. That's part of life.

The mormons teach that there was a great council in heaven, and that lucifer had a plan to save everyone by taking away their free agency. Jesus had a plan to allow everyone their free agency, and would save those he could. And Jesus's plan was chosen. But let me ask, how does the church not take away one's free agency in all the ways that matter? (Wasn't it Neal A. Maxwell who stated that "we are free to choose our actions, but we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions"?)  If we love someone who is not a member of TSCC, we cannot marry that person because s/he cannot marry us in the temple, which is the way to exaltation. And remember--"salvation without exaltation is damnation." We're told to have children, whether or not we think we're financially or physically ready. We are supposed to clean the church buildings. Pay 10% of our income to the church without ever receiving any accounting as to what is done with those tithes. We are to fast once a month, and make generous fast offerings. One former general authority stated that if the fast offerings would double, so would the level of spirituality (I'm paraphrasing). In other words, give us your money. We're supposed to go to the temple regularly and participate in bizarre secret combinations (oops--wait--secret combinations are bad).

Once you step aside and start asking questions, and seeking for truth instead of pablum, the cog dis grows and grows and grows. Then if you're able to be honest, you will realise the church is nothing but the works of men, and it attempts to keep people in control by setting impossible standards of conduct and living and taking their money and encouraging them to have children who will grow up and toe the mormon line and give their money and to serve missions to make converts to toe the line and give their money.

Since leaving the church, I've seen the phrase "Pay, pray, and obey" all over the place. And truly that seems to be their priorities, in that order. Pay 10%, but it's really more than 10%, because of the mission funds, and the fast offering funds, and humanitarian funds. Pray to know if it's true, but if you don't get that burning in the bosom, it's either because you're not living the other commandments, or it's because you already know it's true. Obey. Be little zombies following the routine--church for 3 hours on Sundays, all of your meetings, scouting, Young Women, Primary, Relief Society, compassionate service, scripture study, genealogy, temple service, journaling, family home evening. They keep you so busy that you don't have time to ask questions. By the time you get to the end of a day, you're so exhausted you can't do anything.  And you probably felt guilty because there were more things you needed to do, and you just couldn't do them, but you're commanded to do them, which means you--and not those making the impossible demands on you--are falling short.

I want to be a good person. I'm trying to be a good person. But my definition of good has changed quite a bit. I have an internal moral compass, and I follow it. I let someone turn in front of me when I'm driving home. I try to be there for my friends when they need me. I try to live so that what I believe, what I say I believe, and what I practice are in harmony. Okay, yeah, I still cuss fluently when I'm driving, or when I'm having a really bad day, but I don't think that makes me a bad person. If the worst thing I ever do is cuss when some guy with a teeny little weenie in a big-ass truck cuts me off in heavy traffic, well, I don't think that's so bad. And no, that's not the worst thing I ever do. At the same time, however, I no longer think I'm a vile pernicious sinner who's doomed to spend eternity in outer darkness.

I guess I just have learned that things are both simpler and more complicated than I always believed. Instead of "knowing" that Joseph Smith was a prophet, I now know that he practiced polygamy and polyandry. Instead of "knowing" that the Doctrine & Covenants consisted of revelations from God, I now know that he pretty much made them up whenever convenient. Instead of "knowing" that he translated the Pearl of Great Price, I now know that he made up something, perhaps thinking that no one would ever be able to translate Egyptian hieroglyphs. Instead of "knowing" that the Book of Mormon was the word of God, I now know that it, too, was made up, perhaps from several sources combined with Smith's fertile imagination. Instead of "knowing" that the primary ancestors of the native Americans were Israelites, I now know native Americans descended from Asians. I've traded "knowledge" for knowledge. There's a big difference.  Not that church leaders would necessarily agree with me. Remember that "some things which are true are not very useful." That's a correct statement, if you're attempting to keep the truth from people so that you can have their money, their time, and their slavish devotion to your teachings.

If, however, you're seeking after genuine truth, then the things which are true and not useful to the mormons will be of incredible use to you.

Obsession

Today's earworm? Animotion's song--Obsession, you are an obsession, blah blah blah.  The song drives me up the wall, mostly because I only know the chorus.

So yesterday when I checked my mailbox, there was the letter from the membership department telling me that my case has to be handled locally and therefore they were forwarding my letter to the stake president who would forward it to the bishop, and in light of the serious consequences they urged me to think again. They also included the little pamphlet about how if we were offended we should come back. I didn't read it. I threw it on the seat in my car and it's going into the recycle bin tonight when I pick up my mail.

Then today I emailed my bishop a polite note to let him know that I'd received the letter; I would like him to process my resignation as quickly as possible; I do not want him to contact my husband about this because (a) my husband already knows how I feel and (b) my husband is not responsible for my actions and decisions. I said that I no longer believe the church to be true. I said if he has any questions specifically about my resignation he may email me, but otherwise I still want no contact other than a letter saying that I'm no longer a member.  No response has come, so I imagine he'll handle it now. And I swear, if he calls my husband, I'm going to throw a royal shit fit!

Then I keep thinking of the song Obsession, so I looked up the lyrics. Imagine the profit singing this to the people trying to leave the church:

You are an obsession, I cannot sleep
I am a possession unopened at your feet
There is no balance, no equality
Be still I will not accept defeat

I will have you, yes I will have you
I will find a way and I will have you
Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly
I will collect you and capture you

You are an obsession, you're my obsession
Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me

I feed you, I drink you by day and by night
I need you, I need you by sun or candlelight
You protest, you want to leave
You say there's no alternative

Your face appears again, I see the beauty there
But I see danger, stranger beware
A circumstance in your naked dreams
Your affection is not what it seems

You are an obsession, you're my obsession
Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me

My fantasy has turned to madness
All my goodness has turned to badness
My need to possess you has consumed my soul
My life is trembling, I have no control

I will have you, yes I will have you
I will find a way and I will have you
Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly
I will collect you and capture you

You are an obsession, you're my obsession
Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me

Any questions?

UPDATE: When I got back from lunch, I had an email from my bishop stating that he would accede to my request, fill out the paperwork, submit it to the stake president, who has to submit it to SLC, and I have 30 days to change my mind. I won't, of course. It was all very cordial. But I'm doing the happy dance now.

Just Thinkin'

There is an exmormon meetup group near where I live. I signed up months ago, but always found a reason not to go to the meetups. Some were valid—my house caught fire and everything went to hell in a handbasket—and some weren’t—my husband was in town and wouldn’t like it.  So I decided that I’m going to the January meetup come hell or high water.  Then I let my sister know, so she could come with me if she wants. She doesn’t want. Not that she doesn’t think it’s a good thing for me, but she’s been out of the clutches of the morg for long enough that she doesn’t have the level of anger and obsessive need to talk and research that I do.

So I can’t help but wonder when I’ll get to that point. I mean, I’m definitely not there yet. Not even close. I’m angry that 30 years of my life was spent believing in that BS. I am angry (and guilty) about the people I tried to convert, and thankful that no one ever did convert because of my efforts. I am angry about all the guilt with which I tortured myself for so long because of the mormon church. I am angry about what the mormon church both directly and indirectly did to my mother. I’m angry because I can’t talk to my mother about my feelings because I worry that it would be too much for her to bear, given her fragile emotional condition. I’m angry about the money I paid to the church, which either directly or indirectly was used to build malls and condos instead of help the needy. I’m angry because of anyone who was abused by a parent or a spouse or a church leader or another member of the church and who was told that it was partly their fault, and whose needs were never met because the perpetrators were protected.

There are so many things I’m angry about, so many things I can’t help but study and research because I want to know the truth. The morg gives lip service to the truth, but in action they lie, lie, lie. I’m tired of lies. If, as they claim to do, they believe the Bible to be the word of God (insofar as it is translated correctly, a clause that enables them to weasel out of anything they don’t feel like doing), the Lord hates lies.

I remember being told that if we lived worthily to where we had the Holy Ghost to be our constant companion, people would see something in us, and want whatever we had. Man, there was one day that a conversation happened just that way. And I was elated because I’d been praying to find someone with whom to share the gospel. So I was then puzzled when, after lots of discussions and attending church (my husband and I drove out to where she lived and went to church with her in what would be her ward), she just dropped it cold. I didn’t understand. As I said earlier, I’m glad she didn’t join. I would hate to have had that on my conscience now.

I remember the scripture about those who are learned thinking they are wise, with that sense of haughty self-righteousness that implies people who study and learn to find the truth are less worthy than those who just accept “truth” and follow it just because.

 

Substitute “Book of Mormon” or “Pearl of Great Price.” It’s all the same. Joseph Smith was a prophet because he told us he was a prophet. The Church is true because the Church is true.

Know what I think? It’s a steaming pile of horse crap. As in, “Grab the shovels and run for the hills! It’s oozing over the windowsills!”

Random Musings

This is going to be one of those rambly posts that starts in one place and then goes to a lot of other places instead of to a nice, neat conclusion.
 
Let’s start with Christopher Hitchens. As you probably know, he passed away this last Thursday.  When I was mormon, I pretty much believed he was a god-hating evil atheist devil. So when I left the church, I quite naturally sought out some of his writings to see what he really believed. I learned that he was, indeed, an atheist. But evil devil? Not even close. I did a post a while back highlighting some of his quotations. Here are a few more:

 “Islam makes very large claims for itself. In its art, there is a prejudice against representing the human form at all. The prohibition on picturing the prophet—who was only another male mammal—is apparently absolute. So is the prohibition on pork or alcohol or, in some Muslim societies, music or dancing. Very well, then, let a good Muslim abstain rigorously from all these. But if he claims the right to make me abstain as well, he offers the clearest possible warning and proof of an aggressive intent.”

“Nothing optional—from homosexuality to adultery—is ever made punishable unless those who do the prohibiting (and exact the fierce punishment) have a repressed desire to participate.” (coughBoydKPackercough)

 

“The only real radicalism in our time will come as it always has—from people who insist on thinking for themselves and who reject party-mindedness.”

 “If religious instruction were not allowed until the child had attained the age of reason, we would be living in a quite different world.” (And in my not so humble opinion, I do not believe that at 8 years old a child is capable of understanding religion and the significance it plays in one’s life.)

 “Human decency is not derived from religion. It precedes it.” (I don’t have values because I used to be Presbyterian/non-denominational Christian/Mormon. I have values because I have values.)

 

“Atheists have always argued that this world is all that we have, and that our duty is to one another to make the very most and best of it.” (I’m more agnostic than atheist, but I do agree with this statement.)

“We have the same job we always had: to say that there are no final solutions; there is no absolute truth; there is no supreme leader; there is no totalitarian solution that says if you would just give up your freedom of inquiry, if you would just give up, if you would simply abandon your critical faculties, the world of idiotic bliss can be yours.” (And what does Mormonism do? Give up your freedom of inquiry, follow the prophet, and you will someday be a god or goddess, although being a god is better because then you can have a lot of wives and being a goddess means that you are always pregnant and, presumably, barefoot.)

 Okay, that’s enough for now of Christopher Hitchens. I salute his memory, and am glad that I got to read some of his writings and learned that he wasn’t a devil at all. He was an honest man, searching for the truth.

I have been growing out my hair for more than 2 years, and over the last few weeks got the urge to cut it all off. After all, what’s the point of growing one’s hair, if all one ever does is stick it up in a clip? So I showed my husband the photo of the hair style I wanted, and he reluctantly said he thought it would be okay. Note that I didn’t care what he thought, because I am perfectly capable, despite the fact that I’m a mere woman, of thinking for myself. And I got it all cut off on Saturday afternoon, ended up with a pixieish haircut. And I love it. And he threw the nastiest, most horrible temper tantrum imaginable when I got home, telling me how awful it looked, and how ugly it made me, and I can’t remember (and don’t want to) all the other ugly things he said. For the record, every other person who has commented on it has said how great it looks. And even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter, because I love it!  (Ok, one comment did take me aback—my mother said it makes me look more like her. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my mother. She’s batshit crazy, incredibly smart, and has no sense at all of womanhood with a capital W. I don’t want to look like her. But I checked the mirror, and I think I just look like myself.)

And speaking of my husband’s temper tantrums, he threw two this weekend. It was very unpleasant, because according to him, everything that goes wrong is my fault, and I’m the laziest person who ever walked the face of the earth.  Please FSM, intervene with the powers that be to get our house taken care of, and get me that promotion to management so I can have enough money to live on, and then send him to Europe or some place far far away on long term assignment. And then he can stay in Europe and I can stay here and not be married anymore. That sounds blissful to me. Or if not, he can have the house and I can get an apartment by work. I couldn’t stay in the one we’re currently occupying, because no way on earth can I afford the rent there, but there are others equally close that cost less money.  What just pisses me off more than anything is the way that he’ll be so unbearably ugly to me, and then when I say I’m going to sleep at my sister’s and not come home, he tells me how much he loves me. Excuse me? That’s not love.

Okay, I guess that’s enough rambling for one day. Lots on my mind, and feeling angry and stressed and impotent to act until things change enough that I can act. That doesn’t make any sense. I feel like I need to wait until the house is repaired. Everything is so up in the air right now, and it doesn’t feel like the right time to separate. It’ll just be one more stressor on top of way too many stressors. And perhaps I’ll have that promotion by the time the house is repaired, so I can afford to live on my own, and we can figure it out then.

Peace out.

Testimony Time

Good afternoon. My name is aintnomonomo, and I would like to stand before you today and bear my testimony of the goodness of coffee. 

Coffee is thought to have originated in Ethiopia, and it quickly spread to the Muslim world and beyond. It has been banned several times due to religious and political reasons. One infamous banning is that of the Mormon church who, even though coffee is not specifically named in the so-called Word of Wisdom, has decreed that the phrase "hot drinks" refers to coffee and tea.

This morning as I sat at my desk at work, I was very, very cold. In fact, I was so cold that I was sitting and working with my Harry Potter blankie over my legs in an attempt to stay warm. My morning coffee (which helped me to wake up and be perky) was long gone. My friend Sarahbear and I went to lunch, and the restaurant was even colder than my work area. So I got a cup of coffee.  As I wrapped my chilled hands around the hot mug, I began to warm up. And as I sipped the delectable nectar, my insides began to warm up a little more.  But after lunch we had to go back out into the cool air and to work. Sarahbear kindly drove up to Starbucks, home of some very delicious coffee concoctions. I got a peppermint mocha. When I got back to my desk and found that it is still very cold in my corner of the building, I was very grateful to that cup of coffee. Not only did it pump some caffeine and sugar through my veins, keeping me awake after a carb-laden lunch, it helped keep me warm. In fact, I didn't need my Harry Potter blankie while I had that warm cup of coffee in my hands.

Now the coffee is gone, the empty cup tossed casually into my garbage can. My insides are still warm, but I can feel the chill begin to settle into my bones. It's time to get the silly Harry Potter blankie back out (yes, I'm a complete dork) and keep my legs warm.

Coffee tastes good. It has some health benefits, and more continue to be discovered and explored. It keeps me awake when I'd rather be sleeping (a cold workday morning, for example).  Coffee never lets me down. Well, not unless someone slips me decaf instead of regular, or if someone puts too much sugar or something silly in it.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, you can rely on coffee. Generally it is quite adept at doing its job. It's not going to lie to you. It's not going to threaten young teenaged girls with tall tales about angels with flaming swords. It's not going to tell you that you will go to hell if you drink it, or if you don't drink it. It's not going to separate you from your family members who choose not to drink it.  Only people do that.

Nameofcheeseandriceamen

The Sins of Brother Curtis

I just posted my review of The Sins of Brother Curtis on Quirky Girls Read. Check it out if you're interested. And if you've read the book, please leave a note and let us know what you thought of it.

In other breaking news, my husband comes home today and I'm already sick at my stomach. That makes it sound like he's a terrible person. He's not. He's a very kind person, with a very good heart. But he can be a real stinker to me, especially when he first comes home from a business trip. Fortunately, his plane is due to arrive while I'm still at work, so I'm hoping he gets his ugliness out of his system before I get home this evening.

Nightmares

I had a horrible nightmare last night. I dreamed people kept coming to me with their idea of proofs that the mormon church is true. And I dreamed I was visiting my mother, and trying to still keep the fact that I've left the church from her. But my stepfather was just horrible, and I exploded. (Figuratively, not literally.) And my mother was just broken-hearted that I left the One True Church (tm) but I knew if I could just get her away from my horrid stepfather she would understand and, perhaps, come to a place of agreement. I know, because she's written many letters to my sister, that she would be able to take my leaving the church with a little more equanimity if I could honestly tell her I was attending another church. But I can't do that, not now. maybe not ever. The dream ended with my packing up my clothes and heading home.

My husband and I were having a rather heated discussion the other night as we came home from doing a little shopping, discussing the mormon leadership's proclivity to, as I put it, line their pockets with the widow's mite. (I was quite proud of myself for coming up with that phrase. Of course, now that I've put it out there, it will turn out to be something I read somewhere and kept in my subconscious.) I've read over and over and over again about people who were living in the depths of povery but faithfully paid their tithing, while the general authorities and higher-ups are living in housing that would seem like paradise to the very people who pay for that housing, their clothes, their healthful food, their travel expenses, the mall, the luxury condominiums.  It genuinely makes me sick.

I know I talk about this a lot, but it's important to me. Paying tithing was never easy for me, and as a result I seldom paid it. Every now and again I'd think about how important it was, so I would start, but then I ended up not having enough money and I'd stop again. I know that there are active members who would tell me that's the reason I lost my faith--I didn't have enough faith to even pay my tithing. Well, before I got married, I lived on my own. I didn't make much money. I always ran out of money before I ran out of month. Then you take the whole tithing thing on top of that--how was I supposed to live? I didn't have parents who would or who could give me money. Then after I got married, I had a whole new set of problems. We sporadically paid tithing, but never really saw the windows of heaven opening and pouring out blessings on our heads. If the church leaders had not emphasized the 10% thing, but rather said, "pay what you can," I think I'd have been able to make regular offerings every paycheck. I wouldn't have had to feel guilty about it. If the church leaders told a family who was all but starving to death to take care of their family, and pay what you can when you can, I think a whole lot of people would feel a whole lot better.

Then there's the mall. The great money pit. When I lived in Salt Lake City, I liked to go to Crossroads Mall and ZCMI Center. They were nice. I enjoyed shopping there.  Then I moved away 18 years ago. I've only been back a few times since then, and whenever I go I'm astounded by all the construction that's taken place or is underway. I didn't know the church was funding that mall. Even as a member I didn't understand why. And then when I found out how much money they were sinking into that mall, again, it made me sick. I used to think that the church donated significant amounts of money and service to those in need. But there are still people with no shelter, no food, no medical care, no clean, safe water. In my opinion, the church has no business building a gigantic mall complex as long as there are people in need. They have no business running those horribly misleading "I'm a Mormon" ads while there are people in need (Thanks, Ingrid Ricks; I'd not thought of that in connection with this, but you're totally right).

I've talked before about the laughing Buddha statuette I purchased a few weeks ago.  Well, I also purchased a stone meditating Buddha and put it on my coffee table.  My husband then asked me if I were now Buddhist. No, I'm not Buddhist. I'm not an -ist or an -ite or anything else. I like my meditating Buddha because he reminds me to slow down and take time to meditate. I like my laughing Buddha because he reminds me to find joy in life.

I know this is a whole lot of sound and fury signifying nothing--but it's what's been on my mind. If you made it through this post, you have my sincere thanks for letting me get my thoughts down.