In the last few weeks, life has been happening. The tub, until last friday, had been clogged for over a month. My nose was also clogged, I couldn't taste my food, and my throat itched. Bills were piling up. I was broke and was reduced to eating my own cooking (over-salted crusty tortillas and all). And to top it all off, I couldn't call my new spiritual mentor and ask her to assume authority in my life and tell me what to do. I'd already tried that, and it hadn't worked.
So I confided in a friend. I talked about feeling panicked and yet calm and apathetic at the same time. I talked about the feeling I've had for years, which is just as present today, of feeling lost like I was walking through a fog with no direction or destination.
My friend suggested I spend the next three months establishing a routine of twice-daily communication with God. Coincidentally, I'd recently begun reading the book, "Chanting: Discovering Spirit in Sound" by Robert Gass and Kathleen A. Brehony, so I decided to give it a try. I started with a Buddhist mantra from the heart sutra:
Gatay, Gatay
Para Gatay
Para Sum Gatay
Bodhi Svaha
Gone
Gone
Gone beyond
Gone altogether beyond
O what an awakening
All-hail.
The chant melody I found in the book was a simple monotone with a slow rhythm. I chose it because of it's simplicity, and because I figured anything with the word heart in it was a good thing. After a few days of chanting the meditation from the Heart Sutra, however, I realized that I wanted to chant something I felt more connected to. So I asked another friend, this time a Yogic nun, for her advice. She suggested I chant God's name. Sounds simple, right? Not for me.
God has many names. There's the traditional English one, God. The exact origin of the name is unknown. Some sources say Indian, others Persian, etc... But the word feels like clumsy on my tongue. Uncoordinated and forced. So many times when I pray, the words seem so pointless. They fall from my mouth like I'm choking on chalk or stale bread, and this word is especially difficult to say sometimes.
So I called a Jewish Orthodox friend and asked her which names of God she would suggest for chanting meditation (since Judaism has many names for God). She suggested either Hashem or Elokim. I've always liked the name Hashem (which literally means, "The Name", and acts as a substitute for the Tetragrammaton. The Tetragrammaton is the four-consonant name of God, considered by Jews to be the most powerful, and therefore too holy to pronounce).
Hashem has always made me feel like I was wrapped in warm, soft and clean bedding while everything around me was just as clean, warm and soft as I was in bed. I chanted Hashem for about a day, but I got scared. I didn't want to have anything that tied me to the beliefs of intolerance and fear that I associate with my birth religion. So I moved on to the name Ribbono. Ribbono is more of a title, and it means Master in Hebrew. How do I explain how much of a release, and how scary this name is for me?
God is my friend, beloved, and father. Maybe one day God will also appear as my mother, but for now, God shows up in mostly masculine forms. God is also Master. On the one hand, I am "owned" by God. My God's qualities include respect and unconditional love. My God is always respectful and never intrusive. My God also takes the sacredness of womens' sexuality and womens' rights and joys very seriously. I am owned by respect, love, and safe masculinity.
Still, my feelings and relationship with this God scare and disgust me. Most of my life, I've been concerned with self-defense in many different ways. And the closer I get to God, which is really about getting closer to myself, the closer I get to the rupture that happened with child abuse. My God is vulnerable, open, and unashamed of being wounded. Being wounded is something I know a lot about, and I've spent most of my life trying to avoid being further harmed. I've also, like many survivors of abuse, been ashamed of having been wounded to begin with. My attempts at protecting myself have played themselves out in masochistic and violent fantasies.
A couple of years ago, I bought a BDSM erotica Anthology, "Master/Slave: 30 Spanking Tales From the Top and 30 Stinging Tales From the Bottom," edited by N.T. Morely. It was not the first time I'd read sexually and emotionally violent erotica, but I had never bought anything specifically in the BDSM genre. And the book did not disappoint in that it contained degradation and violence in spades. However, I found myself turned off by most of the stories. And within a short time of purchasing the book, I learned two important things about myself.
Firstly, I generally do not enjoy being dominated, nor do I enjoy being treated as an object available for another person's entertainment on par with an ipod or TV set. I respond to emotionally violent sexuality on a mental level, but what I actually like is to be treated with respect and adoration by a romantic partner.
Secondly, I learned that the only one I want to have a Master/Slave (or Servant) relationship with is God. I found myself disturbed by the relationships described in the anthology. Part the thrill of my degrading fantasies had been the idea of pretending they weren't degrading. I'd had to pretend, even to myself, in order to survive psychologically as a child. Therefore, pretending the degradation was enjoyable was the biggest part of the humiliation, and what I respond to most. But the women in the stories seemed to actually want to mold themselves to serve another person. Stories of women actually worshipping men seemed, to me, grotesque and inherently wrong. With that awareness came the understanding of what upset me so much about my relationship with God.
With the force of a stinging whiplash, I realized that I was God's sub. With God, you bend over, take what S/He dishes out and say, "Thank you Ma'am/Sir, may I have another?" And you act like you mean it, because you do. You mean it because God is Love, and you want what S/He dishes out.
I think walking with God includes a combination of surrender and submission. Surrender is accepting God in a way that is more about accepting a part of yourself, and submission is where you follow God/ The Universe out of joy. This is a more interactive form of the relationship.
But I've known surrender and submission as a lie - an act of false submission designed to be degrading, to cause a person to be ashamed of their human limitations in the face of torture and abuse. Making sure that being vulnerable, soft or submissive was only done in a degrading context has been a way to protect myself. Because making sure a sense of degradation was present has been a way to make sure I was still alive. As long as it hurt, I wasn't disgusting. But to actually enjoy being submissive, even to God, which is really my Higher/Deeper self in disguise, fills me with revulsion. Be hurt, and live. Feel pleasure, be soft and submissive to the Higher/Deeper Power, and stop existing. If I stop feeling pain, I'm scared it will be as if the abuse didn't happen. I'm scared it will mean I deserved it, or am somehow responsible. It will mean I can be hurt without consequence. It will mean I can be molded into anything anyone wants. It will mean I don't exist.
The qualities of softness, surrender and joyfulness are unfolding at their own pace. There's this soft space inside me that I'm learning to uncover and allow to breathe free. And there's a great fear that comes with that. Will I become empty? Will I become like those women who seem to actually want to be reduced to objects? Will I be hurt again? I want freedom. I want peace. I want not to want anything. I'm scared of not wanting anything. I'm scared I'll be fractured if I get too vulnerable. I'm scared I'll be a religious zombie. I'm generally scared all-around.
So I worked on different names, with many fears coming up. I began to wonder if chanting as a form of prayer was right for me at this time. This week, I'm giving the Serenity Prayer a try. It's an oldie but a goodie, and I'll keep you posted. If you have any tips on developing a meaningful routine of prayer or contact with God, I'd be open to hearing those suggestions.
I will end this post with a prayer/poem from an anonymous woman who was inspired by a sculpture she found of a woman, arms outstretched as if crucified, in a Toronto chapel (the sculpture was itself inspired by the New Testament verse 1 Peter 2:24
It resonated strongly with me, and clarified one of the reasons I'm so attracted to Jesus, a wounded God.
By His Wounds, You have Been Healed
"O God
through the image of a woman
crucified on the cross
I understand at last.
For over half my life
I have been ashamed of the scars I bear.
These scars tell an ugly story,
A common story,
about a girl who is the victim
of sexual abuse.
In the warmth, peace
and sunlight of your presence
I was able to uncurl
the tightly clenched fists.
For the first time
I felt your suffering presence with me
in that event.
I have known you as a vulnerable baby,
as a brother, and as a Father.
Now I know you as a woman.
You were there with me
as the violated girl
caught in helpless suffering.
The chains of fear
no longer bind my heart and body,
a slow fire of compassion and forgiveness
is kindled.
My tears fall now
for man as well as woman.
You were not ashamed of your wounds.
You showed them to Thomas
as marks of your ordeal and death,
I will no longer bear them gracefully.
They will tell a resurrection story."
Anonymous
No comments:
Post a Comment