Glass Jars, Moonlight, and Intention

It was the night of a final full moon-  the decade had been so long, 

She’d had enough, done calling all bluffs, time to sing her old new song 

So she stepped outside

And lit fire

To all the pages

All the phases

All the stages

All the faces

That didn’t serve her, and didn’t deserve her

Dropping them into to a jar made of glass

She watched as the water  turned from clarity to ash

Shattered.

Something within her broke. 

Held up her arms in the darkness and the smoke—

Yelled, “Moon-do your Work! 

Can’t take another minute of sitting with this hurt.”

Closed her eyes, closed the door, closed the blinds

Turned on reality, turned off the lies

Sometimes the words come, without having to try 

Then there she was, 15 year old me

Little blonde head, fairy wings, and big dreams

She said, “Stacy, you’re still me, and now you’re strong enough to set some boundaries. Only you can set you free.”

Climbed into my own baptismal bath

Soaking in the brokenness of the pain in my past,

Let the salty water, burn my wounds clean

Let the voices from within rectify me

I’m calling on you, You, the someone deep within

The one who holds the echos of my loved ones, my  friends

I’m calling on You, to come and give me the words

The courage

The boldness that screams

You don’t deserve this, and you never did

I’m calling on You, for gentle wisdom in my bones 

The kind that only comes when you refuse to throw stones

Help me be gentle, but HARSH

Leaving no room for longing in the dark

Help me speak every word with extreme accuracy

Leaving not a single gap for crazy-making

I have been silenced, but only we know

Time to break curses and time to let go

A thousand ancestors lifted me up out of the bath. Woundedness dripping off me, time to speak out the past

Leaving puddles of yesterday, down the wooden floor path, each drop holding memories of rage released on me in wrath

Yes, It was time enough, I was coming for me, Nobody else could do this work- if I were to ever be free

Didn’t need another soul, just the girl that I had been

Before I picked up his darkness and made it my friend

Phone rang. I began to speak,  Unveiling Every Action that’d ever hurt me

Like the glass jar soaking in the moonlight illuminating every burnt trait that I’d accepted in my life

The moonbeams read them out to me, so I spoke them loud and clear, And each time I said, “No More,” a wound would disappear 

Something spiritual was happening as I spoke my own worth over me, I was untangling the ethereal cord that had been attached from him to me

Finally, I could hand it back, Said, “I think this belongs to you.” I can try to help you unravel yourself

But I won’t carry it all for you, you’ll have to be the one to see this work through

I will not bear the weight of your wounds, I am not the reason for your pain

And all this  time instead of healing yourself You poured your poison into my veins

I’ve choked on it, drowned in it, trying to get myself back to me, trying to come up for air from the pools of rage you spew at me

And if you’ll admit that you need help, Then we can find who you’re suppose to be

Before you were wounded, before you had bruises, before darkness called your name

I will stand beside you, but YOU have to lean into your pain

And, I am not your pain. 

I. Am. Not. Your. Pain. 

But I can be your full moon clarity, And we’ll call each wound by name.  Call every single broken piece out until you are free from them,

We’ll watch every ash and ember that rises into the night, cause we know healing  comes when we set our intentions in the glow of the full moonlight. 

Your child is not a Christian

Recently while listening to Richard Dawkins’, “The God Delusion,” I had to pause and let some of his words wash over me—they were cleansing, if you will.

I won’t quote him directly, but here’s the jist:

**There can be indoctrinated children, and there can be children of Christian parents, but there are zero Christian children.**

Obviously, a few years ago I would have wanted to battle back and proclaim that MY children were believers and students of the Holy book. I would’ve scrambled to find the flaw in his statement—- but deep in my noggin, I would’ve been arguing, not with Dawkins, but with my own indoctrination.

As much as I would’ve wanted to believe my kids WERE Christian kids, the truth was—every belief they possessed came directly from me or the Bible stories I’d allowed them to learn. Sure they knew scripture, but how did they learn it? –Me, a curriculum I’d chosen, a class I’d taken them to… Sure they knew the prayers, but how did they know who to pray to and the format of recitation? Me! These weren’t things they would’ve ever approached on their own. They were simply babies who wanted to PLAY! But my kids were my echo chambers, they were simply regurgitating by beliefs right back out at me. It’s scary to think how deeply I had sculpted their entire world view and reality. Shits terrifying, man. Wheeeew. Breathe. Even scarier is the way some folks never realize what they are doing….

Fortunately for me now, as a deconstructed exvangelical, when I read Dawkins’ words, I was in complete and total agreement. It was actually freeing to hear someone else saying what I knew from my own childhood and in raising my kids.

Every single attempt at raising Godly kids is a form of indoctrination. From reciting scripture, creeds, and prayers at young ages, to attending weekly services, to routines of the home. Every time a parent intentionally places their belief system into the mind of their child, they are indoctrinating that child. Every time a child declares they are saved or that they’ve had a God experience, it is simply a replication of what they’ve witnessed from adults around them or is a fictitious response to hormones released in emotional situations. Again, a fabrication of that child’s reality set up by someone else.

Children are born religion free. Again, when a baby is born, their brain has zero knowledge of any religion. Yet, they are divine. They come to us with an awe-struck curiosity for the mystical experiences of nature. They are bright eyed and eager to explore, they worship in the form of wonder. Wouldn’t it be grand to approach guiding them, with that same joy of learning that they implore. When THEY ask about God, faith, sins, the devil, as parents we show excitement and present them with timelines of all the major world religions, allowing them to see for themselves the bigger picture. There is NO indoctrination in that method. And, there is no right answer, therefore no pressure to conform out of fear.

I remember the fear that being a Christian places within parents. The “their blood is on your hands,” approach to training up children. Hell, I pulled my kids from school so I COULD INDOCTRINATE them to think like me.

I remember feeling afraid when they “sinned.” I remember crying out to God that he would guard their hearts. I spent literal nights awake trying to envision a way to best teach them so they’d know God’s Love….

But now I see, if you look at your child as a fallen being to be saved, you’ve lost the chance at letting the magic of life teach them. Their own Life is their best teacher. You are cutting them off from their own flow when you’ve set the default state of being as a religious one. They have very little chance at growing beyond that default setting, and for many Christians that is their hope.

How sad. But that’s what you get when generation after generation sits in the church pew and never does the work of thinking. You get uneducated worldviews, partnered with indoctrinated beliefs, sculpted into little robotic beings, passing off their ideals as the ONLY right way, all the way into their adulthood, and this then repeats itself with their children. And it’s ALL misinformation, but they live from default because it’s safe and requires no conscious effort to learn new ways and new information.  It’s frankly, an irresponsible way to live.

For me and for my children, I did the work of reprogramming my default settings. They will not have to deconstruct, they will not have to “go astray” or “leave the fold.” Together, we are free to let Wonder, Curiosity, and Life be our teachers. Please join me in ending the brain-washing of our youth-they deserve better. They deserve to be the joyful explorers that they were literally born being. Let us, as adults, give our children the space they need to be here, free from your default settings.

Thanks for reading! XO

Dear Patriarchy

Dear Patriarchy,

I was placed into your grasp as a little girl. I ate the crumbs from your gnarled and mangled hands. I watched you work the system and create a breed of subservient little female beings. You chewed us up and spit us out and told us our purpose was to simply be present to help You. You needed our fertility, open our legs for your pleasure and your cum. Carry your babies so you don’t fade away into oblivion. We sit here now foaming at the mouth ready to rip your fucking throats out, and you tell us to smile, keep quiet, be a lady. Meanwhile, you’re lusting for the blossoms in the church pew, with your pious and godly wife sitting right there beside you. But she doesn’t know how to be the Slut you need. The Sacred Whore within, she’s never unleashed. You did that to her. You, Patriarchy! You told her to be good, but with everything you are, you like em bad. So so bad. You told us to be honest, but you’ve got your secrets. You snicker, and you smile, and you keep things under the table. Your army, your squad, your “good ol boys”—- they uphold you as the Man among men, and while your wife may be fooled cause she’s a product of her raising, just know-your daughter won’t bow down to ANY SYSTEM that’s degrading, she’s not just the winds of change-she’s a fucking tornado. She is tearing this shit down and you don’t know what to do. You hang on to your faith cause it ALWAYS WORKS FOR YOU. Cling to your traditions, the empire built by men for men, but your daughter yells, “No!” She’s watched and she’s listened to every command made on her mother and her sisters, she’s thirsty for the blood of every person whose ever said, “A woman’s place is in the kitchen.” She is harsh and bold and she is ready to hurt your feelings. She yells, “Fuck you and fuck your religion! You pieces of shit-stealing the minds of the innocent, and they can’t even think critically enough to harbor resentment.” Your daughters are coming for you, Patriarchy, are you shaking in your work boots? We are coming for you, right after we untie your shoes.

Written by: Stacy Johnson

Is this tipsy?

This is a big deal. My hubs wanted me to have drinks with him. Being a former fundamentalist Christian, I still carry guilt over any alcohol consumption….and leaving my children for any length of time, but tonight I said, “Yes! Let’s do it!”

So we went to a lil joint that had live music and food and drinks. I had 3 Blue Hawaiians and while I enjoy a Crown and Coke on football night, this was different. I felt dizzy, light-headed even, giggly too. Thought I might just tumble down the stairs til my husband told me there weren’t any stairs, lol. Needless to say, I had him rolling more than once.

Most of all, I take away from the experience, how very excited I am about aging. I’m in my thirties and still not quite brave enough to dance to the live band. But!!!! There was a group of 50-70 year old ladies getting down. They asked me to join and I could not gather the gumption. It was beautiful to see them letting loose and showing us younger folk what a good time really looks like. From Sweet Home Alabama, to Jessie’s Girl, to Billie Jean, they didn’t care—- they let their hair down and their hips sway. I want to be like them someday soon. I really really wanna be like them.

3 of these lil guys had me spacey, what the 
feathers?

I’m still learning how to let go of the guilt associated with having a good time that Christianity inherently places inside you. I’m still learning that it’s okay to “shake dat ass-“ even at 70, and that actually the best ass shakers were the 70 year olds. And I’m grateful for a husband and a sister who encourage me to live a little…

When the indoctrination came on in the form of a guilt-inducing whisper, I chose to silence it and just enjoy the moment with my husband, the music, and the drink. And that alone is a huge step in my letting go. Once upon a time I would have called that the Holy Spirit and I would’ve judged others who weren’t hearing that same call. Now I know better. Indoctrination is a tricky tricky liar, and I won’t let it fool me any longer.

Do you have any particular moments you recall, when you realized you were letting go of your indoctrinated belief systems? Share away!