Here we go again - AGAIN

    As mentioned way back when in May in my post “When is it right to hurt someone?” and the post “un-home-like” in June, the club I belong to at school has had issues with two people in particular whom I’ve dubbed Michel* and Joe.*
    I’ll get to Joe in a minute, but the focus of today’s post is Michel, and keeping track of what is apparently an ongoing situation.

    In the first post I linked to above, I explained how Michel ended up leaving the room in a huff during a club meeting when the tension between her and group came to a head. Within a week of her leaving the room, Michel’s mother came to the school and caused a fuss with Student Life, complaining about her daughter’s treatment by our club. Student Life asked to our President about what happened, and once they understood they didn’t tell us to do anything specific, they didn’t reprimand us, and they certainly didn’t tell us that we had to let her back into the room (though we weren’t actively banning her, so it really didn’t matter). After all, who in the world, with any common sense, would continue trying to interact with a group that was hostile towards them at worse, and tolerates them at best?
    They thanked us for handling it as best we could, gave us a heads-up that Michel’s mother came in complaining on her behalf, and asked us to try to be a little less aggressive if it happened again (the implication being with someone else, as they too assumed that the issue was settled).    
    Still, a month or so later, Michel resumed coming into club. Mostly she sat towards the back of the room, avoiding conversation, but she had returned despite knowing that most of the group had no interest in interacting with her.
    Why?

Depth in Shallow Water

    As I mentioned in my last post, I recently went canoeing for the first time. One of my friends - whom we’ll call Ardelis - invited me to join her on a group camping trip. Her ex-boyfriend was originally supposed to accompany her, but (due to his recent status as ‘ex’) she had no one to go with her. Being that I haven’t been camping for a few years, and I’d never been canoeing, I decided this would be fun change of pace. If nothing else, more time to bond with Ardelis, one of Warden’s friends from early childhood on who has become a fairly close friend of my own in the short time I’ve known her.
   
    I had little to no idea of what to expect - I didn’t even know if we were going to be way out in the wilderness, or at a camp site with electricity and water (we were) - so I packed only what I felt were necessities, and whatever I’d need to get by. Supplies-wise, I did more than fine (I had leaned towards the idea of being nowhere near bathrooms or running water and so on) but when it came to our fellow campers, I wasn’t sure how to feel.
   
    While Ardie had warned me about her brothers, I had taken most of the descriptions I’d heard as hyperbole. I quickly learned my mistake. I commented at one point, laughing, that I felt like I was in ‘hostile territory.’ When she asked what I meant, I replied, “Well, remember: I’m kind of a witch, so…” She nodded, understanding quickly: the portable sound system which blared near constantly the duration of the trip was at the moment playing a song about wanting a ‘country-music Jesus’ to come and “save us all.”

I was, after all, camping with a large group of service men and their women - men who, at a glance, could pretty quickly be identified with one word: rednecks.

Dedication - a Year of Blogging

    Following my Dream about Doors, I’ve been re-examining my goals and priorities. My year-and-a-day has passed, August 1st 2010 being the day I got my blog running in the first place and Lammas - the holiday I discussed in that post - is today. While it’s not required of me (not to mention I’m not exactly in any sort of initiatory order) I really wanted to perform some sort of dedication to mark the time that‘s gone by and to set a definitive goal for the future.

    But what would I dedicate myself to? Like I said before, a ritual without a purpose is like a door that doesn’t lead anywhere. It can be a beautiful door, and a real experience to pass through it, but if it doesn’t actually take you anywhere then the exercise is pointless… right?

    All of the study, the reading, all the research, the talking to people - it’s been a real trip, and I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. It’s changed how I think, opened up my mind, and shown me a lot of good things. Admittedly, it‘s led to some really depressing realizations about just how bad the world can be - but it‘s also shown me that it‘s alright to hope as well.
    Still, what does this all mean? What is my goal? Do I have any plans for what to do with all the things I’m learning? What has anything I’ve learned actually done for me?

Cracked Views on Mysticism

    A recent article from the popular humor website Cracked.com was titled “7 ‘Ancient’ Forms of Mysticism That Are Recent Inventions.”

    I took a deep breath and braced myself for a semi-humorous anti-religion smear - because though I love the website and visit it daily, any time an article pops up on any topic having to do with something touchy (politics, religion, etc) it not only tends to lean strongly in one direction or the other opinion-wise, but they also stir up a lot of bad feelings. That, and the trend lately seems to be for Numbered Lists of ‘Facts’ (usually more along the line of facts + opinions) to make the front page as the three main articles of the day.

    The “7 ‘Ancient’ Forms” addressed were Yoga, Tarot, Satanism, Ouija boards, Ninjitsu, Friday the 13th (though I’m not sure how a superstition about a date qualifies as a Form of Mysticism comparable with a religion), and - drum roll please - The Viking Religion.

    I laughed a little as I read - this was an extremely sarcastic article, in which the writer C. Coville  (who’s profile declares “preachin' Jesus and blowing up meth labs”) did her best to compare the systems examined with things like Dungeons & Dragons and angry teenagers rebelling against the church. Though I did smile at times, there wasn’t much humor to be found. I nodded at the dates and facts she presented, having come across most of the same things on my own during my reading and research this past year, I couldn’t help but sense a strong dislike of ‘New Age’ systems. What surprised me (though it shouldn’t have, especially coming from a white, Christian woman in the US military, with the website like http://www.godgirlsguns.com) was the venom dished out against reconstructionist religions, especially Asatru - for example, the caption beneath a rather famous depiction of Odin calling him a hobo seemed a little much.

Really?

Still, one person’s opinion is just an opinion. Facts are facts, and how you react to them and treat them individually are what’s important.

No Rockets, No Red Glare

A bit of a discourse from my usual subject matter, but I felt I had to address this.

    This past 4th of July, I had dinner with my dad - a thankfully much less awkward encounter than I thought it would be, with lots of laughter and good feelings all around. After we had dinner, he had to rush home to pack and rest up (being that he had to get up and get on the road around 4 am the next day), leaving Warden and I to our own devices for the evening. There weren’t actually any fireworks shows within a convenient driving distance (go figure) but we decided that some sparklers would be good enough for two people, since all we were going to do was cook hot dogs and marshmallows over a fire.
    We hit Meijer’s first - “no,” we were told, they “don’t sell sparklers. Sorry.”
     I insisted we go to Krogers instead: I distinctly remembered my friends’ parents purchasing fireworks (whoo black cat!) there when I was in high school. Again, no - and this time, we were told, it was illegal for them to sell sparklers. A quick run to a Rite Aid down the street (since we both figured maybe the drugstore would have some) was fruitless.

    In the next neighborhood over, we heard the occasional pop and whistle of festive explosions going off: but in our own yard, we sat quietly beside the fire, considering the holiday and where it is today.

Thinking of what we’d been told at Krogers, I did some googling.

Dreaming of Doors

 In a post last year, I described an encounter with a figure I refer to as my ‘Guide,’ but might as well call my Animus. I borrow the word from Jung in order to refer to a (from what I’ve encountered) male aspect of my subconscious, but not in the complete sense of what Jung described. Generally, this figure shows up to let me know that the dream has some sort of significance and should be examined for symbols. The last time I encountered him, it was August of 2010 - and he said it was going to be a long time before I encountered him again. Nearly a year later, in a recent dream, I came face to face with him just before waking.

Un-home-like.

"Oh boy," I find myself saying- "here we go again."

I outlined in a previous post how the student-club where I hang out with friends tends to deal with people who just don’t ‘fit in,’ typically due to behavioral issues, in a sort of cycle. To save you the click,

-The person comes in and rather than sit and watch what’s on the screen, will attempt to strike up loud or unrelated conversation. (If it’s not a ‘noise’ issue we’re dealing with, it can be generalized as something we just find disagreeable.)
-They are asked to please quiet down or leave the room if it‘s really bad. This may happen multiple times before a Warning occurs.
-Feeling like the people who issue the Warning (typically one of the top three officers of the club) are ‘mean‘ or ‘unfair,’ the person being Warned will sit in the back of the room and complain to anyone who will listen about how rude and hateful we are.
-The person being Warned will continue to attend the club, every week, and continue to complain from the back, or carry on having loud conversations or being distracting, and receiving warnings.
-Tension will eventually reach a head, and the person is confronted by our ‘Warden’ - aka, the Officer responsible for dealing with people who are being a constant bother.
-The person storms out and may return at a later date, more subdued, or not at all - though they may continue to complain about us outside of the group.

By this point, we‘ve encountered this cycle enough times that we’ve learned to spot escalation coming pretty early on. Our major concern with any problematic member is to give them as many chances as they can to redeem themselves if they’re being disagreeable and try to avoid confrontation - the last thing we want is to cause people to leave a group where the goal is to just hang out and have a good time.
    In any case where we’re having issues with someone, while we may feel bad about having to deal with someone who shouts, swears or threatens to report us to Student Life (for what exactly? Enforcing our rules?), how do we deal with someone who’s only real fault is trying too hard to be friendly?

The current issue is with a guy we’ll call Joe.

Prayer

People pray. A lot. Even atheists pray. It’s not surprising - in America, the numbers are staggering. 92% of Americans in 2010 believed that there is a God, and 83% believe that God answers prayers.

I think that’s amazing, but not particularly surprising.

Our country is known for opportunity, prosperity, and excess - even in the most absolute worst situations one might find themselves in here, it’s typically still feasible that there’s a hospital, or police, or a helping hand one can turn to. If you pray to God to save you and help comes, it’s probably going to feel like a pretty convincing proof that there is a God who answers prayers.

But what about when the prayers go unanswered?

Well, for the faithful (no matter the faith) when ‘God says no’ it’s because it’s “Not part of God’s Plan.”

Hold onto those numbers in your head - remember, over 90% of Americans believe in a God (majority Christian) and over 80% believe he answers prayers. Hold onto that while you read.

The Importance of Hope

I don’t feel like I’ve been depressed lately - and certainly, you’d think I’d be able to tell whether I am or am not feeling down. I dealt with depression a lot as a teenager, enough at least that a certain cycle become very recognizable to me, and I would know a few days ahead of time if I was falling into a serious funk.

The world would lose it’s shine, first off. Just small things, like food - even food I really like - not tasting right, mostly sort of ’blah’ or just not good. I’d retreat without realizing it from activities that I love, like listening to music, reading, creating art. My body would ache, I’d maybe feel like I had the flu, and then for several days - maybe weeks or months - I’d feel terrible. As though there was no point in going on.

Obviously, I made it through those years - I’m here now, after all. 

With that in mind, I’d like to believe I’d be able to tell the difference between what’s just kind of a ‘blah’ feeling and genuine depression: but here I am, questioning just what it is that’s making me view the world so cynically these days.

In some ways, I feel sort of like maybe I’ve fallen unexpectedly into a fugue, the likes of which I haven’t seen since the days when I still kept half my most used things in a backpack that weighed more than most small children, and a metal locker in a hallway with hundreds of others just like it. Though the past year has been one of mostly peace and self-exploration, I’m become so nervous about the whole world, politics, and people in general. The more I learn about the world around me, the less certain I am that it’s a world worth living in overall. Still, something won’t let me give up on it.

Excuse the analogy, but I guess it’s because I’m sort of like a domestic rat.