"Take Me To Church": Seduction: Worship, and Spiritual Suicide (A Review)

When I started to fall in love with British artist Hozier's first mega-hit, I had to take a minute to seriously consider the possibility that I was adding to the moral corruption of my generation. I mean, how could a song sounds so delicious, intermingle sexual and religious themes, and NOT be straight out of Hades? The lyrics are, in a word, irreverent (or rather, differently-reverent), and I'm sure that in some cases it's encouraged unhealth in peoples' lives in minds-- in other words, I'm sure the song's popular embrace is at least partly based in all the interpretations of the song which it might be false. But because it is art, and especially good art, there are a LOT of interpretations of the song-- and I'm free to love it for all the interpretations which might be true.
I already said it's good art-- I'll raise the bar and argue that it's aesthetically true. The melody and other sound elements embody the visceral ache of devotion much better than most songs about devotion that I've heard recently. It's difficult to lift up the notes of the song without entering into the emotional space its lyrics put forth. And that might be exactly why some are wary of it-- what headspace are we entering? Are we bowing down before the altar of sex when we sing this song?
Sort of. You can't read the lyrics of the song without being struck by the transference of worship language to sexual themes. I'd hate to cause a sensation (especially among those who know me as a Christian on the Asexual Spectrum), but this sexy spirituality itself doesn't bother me in the least. Nature-- even and especially sex-- is overflowing with spirituality, even divinity. John Muir is attributed as saying, “I'd rather be in the mountains thinking about God, than in church thinking about the mountains.”  Maybe this narrator is just … admiring a different peak.
So if Hozier('s narrator character) was really disconnecting from religion because sex provided an alternative spiritual experience, that would be simple. But look at the lyrics again: Sex, personified as the narrator's goddess-priestess-lover, doesn't seem to providing spiritual fulfillment either. The 'Church' (sex) to which he's begging to go is pleasing and feels somehow 'ultimate', sure, but it's also dishonest and demanding, masochistic at best and cannibalistic at worst. The journey plays out a “sad earthly scene” that seems to humble everyone, especially “masters and kings”-- this goddess seems to eat the colloquial 'high horse' and leave its own rider to starve. He adopts the general feeling that this is a sickness, but of course, he loves it: sex may or may not be true, but it's the truest thing he has-- or the truest thing that has him. The attitude, in this interpretation, is more of a resigned hedonism in the face of inevitability than a freely-committed worship.
So Hozier's song places sex in the role of this huge, powerful force that makes humanity weak at the knees and bends our identity toward itself with its offer of self-serving pleasure. But the intermingling of religious imagery speaks, to me, about the reality that religious devotion so often plays this twisted role too. (If you're skeptical, just see if you can distinguish C-Pop lyrics from lines from 50 Shades.) As Christians, we have to confess that we've too often offered this same creepy, self-immolating adoration to God and the Church, propagating the toxic attitude that willfully strangling the spirit could ever be a good or redemptive thing to do. This posturing speaks to a deep suicidal impulse in humanity that leads us to throw our own souls onto any fire we can find-- sex, religion, drugs, mob mentalities, persistent delusions-- anything to feel the sweet release of draining ourselves of the responsibility of identity. Maybe this is the original sin, or our subconscious guilt response to it.
  The God I know does not want, is not jealous for, this kind of worship that subsumes the worshipper into the object of adoration. God is absolutely rooting for us to live into our full identities and not throw ourselves away-- especially to 'him'. How painful for the parent to hear the 'faithful' son say, "I slaved for you"-- as if we didn't know that everything God has is ours. This son was more 'prodigal' than the other. So far as this song is about the overpowering impulse to adoration in sex and religion, it is absolutely true-- except that it is hopeless. And I'm not suggesting that Hozier croon 'If only I had Jesus!" as a tacked-on refrain, or change the 'amen' to a 'Hosanna'-- though in the Christian Music Industry that dishonest and anti-artistic rubbish is standard practice. The narrator is painting a beautiful picture of the complexities of self-entrapment while still trapped. We have to let the song be that. When we enter into the song, we have to enter into a space of hopelessness, because that is the honest human experience of subsuming adoration. None of us is better than that or wiser than that wild blindness; it just manifests itself differently in different lives, and we have to remember that with humility and appreciation and connect to this artist in that space.
   But we don't have to stay there forever. The beautiful thing about art of any kind is that it allows for both experience and reflection. And upon reflection, we can honestly say that we are not destined for this joyful suicide-- that the pulse of life beats defiant against the draw of death. God does will for us to have Life Abundant-- faith and sex and imagination and community that are healthy, life-affirming, supremely humanizing, and offered in free will. It's a whole life that we can admire like John Muir admired the mountains-- with genuine reverence for all its diverse, organic chaos, and with freedom from compulsion and self-loathing. Amen. Amen. Amen.

~ ~ ~

Afterword: The Music Video. Ok, the music video was a huge part of this song's global success, so even though it's under no obligation to be thematically linked to the lyrics, it's worth considering here. The heart-and-tear-wrenching video depicts two lovers being torn apart by a violent homophobic 'community' group in Russia. This is based on an actual current trend, and it might be happening to a real couple even as you read this. The groups are not religious, but may be backed by certain religious sentiments. Hozier actually did an interview explaining the video's link to his personal views that no religious or other human system should constrict or demonize what is most beautiful about life. This overpowering hateful groupthink, rather than sex, has become the enslaving 'church' in the video: the actual sexual relationship is depicted as innocent and beautiful; while the murderers that adopt the dark overtones of senseless identity-erasing commitment described in the song. A confusing role reversal, but one that confirms the deeper issue.

Seven Secret Strengths of High-Functioning Autistic People

This article is an ode to us. It’s for anyone who considers themselves a High-Functioning Autistic (HFA) person or an ‘Aspie’ (Asperger Syndrome is one specific disorder that's on the high-functioning end of the Autism Spectrum). It’s also for the folks who are lucky enough to make up our families and circles of friends. We ‘Spectrum Surfers’ have plenty of opportunities to reflect on our challenges-- it’s about time we focused a little more on how kick-ass we really are. 

So, here are a few of the things that many HFA people are really freaking good at:

1. Social Learning
Society seems to have gotten the cockamamy impression that we Spectrum Surfers are ‘socially slow’. Are you kidding me? Most of us started out with a completely empty social tool kit. Ask us-- most of us have warm fuzzy childhood stories of spitting on our friends, throwing chairs at teachers, or hiding under our parents’ work desk for hours on end. The fact that so many of us have ‘caught up’ so much is a testament to our amazing ability to learn. It’s like communication itself is a second language that we’re constantly having to translate ourselves into, and that takes an absurd amount of smarts.

2. Compassion
The stereotypical portrayal of autistic people as cold and unfeeling is, for the most part, a big load of poppycock. Many of us have trouble fluidly communicating the standard ‘I care’ cues (eye contact, tone of voice, etc.), but we actually ‘co-suffer’ a LOT-- according to one study, maybe TOO much, so that we shut down in self-defense. Once we can learn to maintain emotional boundaries, though, we can beautifully live into our identities as keenly sensitive individuals, and our insights into the emotional environments of spaces can be a great contribution to group settings. 

3. Integrity
When you live inside your head as much as HFA people do, cognitive dissonance is not really an option. That means we tend to be really freaking honest (and often bad liars when we try!). We also really stick to our guns-- we will not budge when we’ve made up our minds. If we don’t ‘do’ hugs, you’re not getting one! Want us to help you cheat? Nyu-uh! Usually by adulthood, we know exactly who we are and what we stand for. 

4. Getting Shit Done
Many of us HFA’s tend to be what I call ‘Hyperfunctional’. We really love it when a plan comes together, and we will work to the point of obsession to see a project through to completion. We often have only very specific but intense interests, but we often follow those interests through to full mastery. Some of us thrive on collaborative projects with specific direction, while others work best when we’re generating our own ideas and projects. Whatever the case, when we set our minds to something, there’s not a lot that can stop us. 

5. Super-Sensing
Many AS people perceive senses differently-- our taste buds, etc, are not physically different, but our unique brains often focus on them differently, sometimes heightening our perceptions to intense levels. On the one hand, it can be pretty hard to function when your perception of touch (/hearing/sight/smell/taste) is turned up about a thousand percent. On the other hand, it’s kind of a freaking super power. For example, I’m often surprised to learn that I was the only one in the room who was aware of something exciting going on within earshot outside. That’s why it is really hard to sneak up on some of us-- and if you do, be warned! We may freak out (or punch you!)-- we are so not used to that happening. 

6. Arts, Music, and Technical Skills
Social communication is tough for us, but we aren’t some alien species who simply don’t need to communicate! That’s why so many of us turn to the visual arts, writing, music, and technical creation, all of which can fill an aching need in our soul to translate our inner worlds and visions outside of ourselves. In these slower forms of communication, we have time to be intentional with our expression. Developing a talent also serves a very specific social function in that it often helps other people to understand us as 'able' and take us more seriously than they might otherwise. (Allies can help us out by noticing our talents, but also seeing past them to appreciate our full personhood!)

7. Partnership
Starting and maintaining intimate relationships, platonic or romantic, can be really hard for us, and we each need a partner who is a good fit and has a lot of grace for us. However, for all the reasons listed above and a thousand more, if you have landed yourself a best friend on the Autistic Spectrum, you can bet we will be stellar confidantes, helpers, motivators, and life-mates. And if your lover is AS, you know it’s worth every second of wishing we had any idea how to flirt or carefully navigating our often-unique sexual identities. Because most of us don’t do anything halfway-- especially loving.

Did I miss some? Overstate some? Completely misrepresent some? Let me know in the squawk box below! 

Note: These generalizations are given as a starting point, not a definite map of every HFA’s skill set. I also use a lot of terms to refer to people on the Autistic Spectrum. As with all identity issues, you should refer to people in the vocabulary that they use to describe themselves. 

Note II: this article has almost nothing to do with Savantism. It’s very rare for anyone to have Savant-level genius, and it’s been damaging to the Autism conversation to assume that (1) many Autistic people have savant skills and (2) ‘Regular’ Autistic people don’t ‘count’. None of that silliness here. We’re all fantastic. Capiche?

Elizabeth Rhea is finishing up her MA in Narrative and Social Change in Claremont, California. She believes that telling better stories-- including better stories about Autism-- can lead to compassion and change in society. 

A Word On Gifts

With Christmas around the corner (and my birthday, then graduation, on the horizon), I've been thinking a lot about the way we bless each other, materially and relationally/spiritually, through giving gifts. I love it-- I love finding meaningful gifts for people, but it isn't always easy. I thought it might be a good idea to put out into the digital universe the types of things that would be meaningful to me at this point in my life (for those who might have been interested in figuring out 'what to get me' without having read this status, haha). This is not, by any means, an ask for more-- actually, it's an ask for less. I don't need a lot of things at this point, and my life's not permanent enough to be able to hold on to a lot anyway. So, here are some ideas of things that I will be able to hold onto:


1. Adventurous or quality time. This especially goes out to old friends and now-distant relatives. I miss you. I don't travel a lot, so if you could come visit me and count whatever travel costs as a material blessing to me (or help subsidize bus/train to come visit you!), I'd really love it.


2. Homemade cards, letters, papercrafts, etc. Like I said, I don't keep a lot, but I do have almost every piece of personal correspondence I've ever received in a series of notebooks on my bookshelf. I look through them when I'm feeling nostalgic or down on myself-- really, actually, I love them.


3. The relief of someone else's serious need. Serious. If you have $5 to spend on me, I'd love it if you'd consider donating it to your local homeless shelter, or better yet, make friends with a person on the street, ask 'em what they really need, and get it for 'em. You can sign the card for both of us.


4. Take a chink out of my student debt. If we're at that level where you're not-gonna-not do something extravagant, haha, this is literally the only material need I'm feeling right now. The totals are too terrifying to write here, haha, but I'm really close ($270 away!) from paying off my first, fastest-interest-gathering loan. Kind of exciting. Kind of proud of myself. Repeat: I do not need money, but that's somewhere real & meaningful it could go.


5. Pledge future support (time, talents, money, word-spreading) for the not-for-profit, radically inclusive, regional oral history program I'm designing right now. More info to come!


Hope these are helpful hints. I would love to hear where you're at in relation to needs and wants, material and relational, too.


~Ely

A Guy's Guide To Not Being a Creeper

Part 1: When Making New LadyFriends

You're an honest guy with reasonably honorable intentions, but for some reason women occasionally look at you as if your yellowed fangs were showing while they back slowly away from you. You were just trying to introduce yourself, or flirt, or compliment her, but she looks as though she's a few steps away from calling the cops. Does that sound about right?

You're not alone. There are lots of guys who feel as though they are navigating a social minefield in which the slightest wrong gesture could, well, blow up in their face. But be comforted by the fact that you are not under attack, and these uncomfortable misunderstandings are generally not random or inevitable. In a world where women are still routinely made to feel inherently unsafe when we occupy public space, you need to know what seemingly innocuous behaviours might create a more hostile environment for women.

So, here a few tips from a real, actual woman, for real, actual men who would prefer not to accidentally creep on my co-genderists and I. It's only one perspective, but hopefully it's a halfway helpful one:

1) Show Yourself. Don't skulk about in the shadows or present closed-off postures such as crossed arms. Be open in conversation, too. If you're unwilling to tell people about yourself, don't expect others to feel safe telling you about themselves. In locations where violence is a real risk, such as a city street at night, make sure your unarmed hands are not concealed.

I also recommend avoiding face-obscuring gear, such as:

• Unnecessary sunglasses
• Mardi Gras or ski masks
• Sweaters or medieval cloaks with propped-up hoods
• Facial hair (sometimes ok)

In summary: if I feel like you're hiding, I'm going to have trouble trusting you, because...

2) Facial Expressions Are Key. Generally, the human face does a pretty good job of expressing itself, but men, too, can suffer from RBF. If you're a known scowler, for example, you might want to practice a relaxed and open expression. Don't force a smile-- it shows, and it's potentially unnerving. And as a reminder, eye contact is generally made when and only when someone is speaking or signaling their desire to speak-- at least in my California rendition of American culture.

3) Touch is Tricky-- Tread With Caution. While TIME magazine's psychologists are among those who hold that light touch (on the arm, for example) is the key to flirting (and it can be great for showing affection in well-established platonic friendships), it could make a girl who's just met you intensely uncomfortable if she isn't already signaling interest. If navigating boundaries is a struggle for you, better err on the side of limiting physical contact-- except for a requested dance, or in really successful conversations in distinctively `flirt-friendly' social settings such as parties or bars.

4) Your Car Might Amplify Creepiness.  The power differential between someone who  has a car and someone who doesn't is a little staggering. A great conversation with a girl probably doesn't mean that she is prepared to get in a car with you, and it's probably better not to offer rides to first-time acquaintances anyway. Never pressure or coerce a girl to get in, or stay in, a car with you. On that note, offering rides to girls at bus stops, for example, is not likely to be interpreted as a noble act of chivalry. And honking at or yelling to a woman you pass on the street is neither flattering, nor a good way to say hello to someone you recognize.

5) Special Attention Can Be Overwhelming. In many situations it might be appropriate to talk to a variety of people, rather than singling out one person to talk to. Regardless of the time balance, though, a barrage of compliments, or questions, from a stranger can be overwhelming. In general,  look for signals of discomfort such as lack of eye contact and one-word answers, and excuse yourself with a confident `It was great to meet you!' if the person doesn't seem to be enjoying the exchange. If there was a signal misunderstanding, that person is perfectly capable of seeking you out again, but it's better not to press.

With all of these things in mind, it's still important to note that you aren't entitled to anyone's time or attention. You might reasonably expect certain courtesies from your grocery store clerk or guests to your family picnic, but a stranger you meet in a public or social setting isn't on the same footing with you. It's important to respect whatever boundaries she might draw, even if you don't understand them, because each woman is the expert and authority of her own personal and unique security needs.

To recap: if women are wary of you in public spaces, it may be because you are unintentionally taking postures that threaten our sense of safety. Be honest, open, and respectful of boundaries, and in time, some of us will come to understand your intentions as positive. Don't be a creeper-- even on accident!

Thoughts From A Day in the Mouse Trap

As a Southern California native, it feels un-State-riotic and a little embarassing to confess that today was my third (not twelfth or one-hundred-and-seventy-second) trip to Disneyland. Nor did my previous visits quite drag me into the "OMG dinneylan' is the best thing EVARR!" social club-- but today I opened my heart and mind and accepted an invitation to go. So, after spending today in the Mouse Trap, I've come to an eclectic mix of conclusions:

1. Creating experiences is an art form. And Disneyland is to that art form what sky scrapers are to architecture. Disney pulls out all the big guns-- of art AND of technology-- in order to make it happen for its clients. Animatronic EVERYTHING, projections on smoke screens, pristine streets and surreally maintained buildings, makeup and costume, silhouettes and light tricks, every conceivable way of replicating an explosion, and the ingenious engineering of staff members' perfectly-in-character presence (see 2). It's damned impressive, that's what it is.

2. Disneyland has at least half of the characteristics of a cult. (Here I refer to the employer/industry, rather than the exchange between staff and customers.) This isn't a criminal accusation by any means-- if you've ever worked at a summer camp, for example, you understand that the imaginary line between 'cult' and 'culture' is completely meaningless. And cult-ure has valid logistical necessity for large-group management. At any point, Disneyland is coordinating THOUSANDS of 'cast members' in order to maintain the Mouse's microcosm. (Though I'm hardly Princess Popular, about a dozen of my friends and acquaintances have done time at Disney over the years-- and as far as I understand, my cultic references echo popular dressing room humor). Of this list, I'd personally defend numbers one, four, and five, and at least the last three, and add the notion of controlled/coded language which is often so vital in creating culture from the top down.

3. I might be an inductive platonist. This is not a thing; I threw the term together in an attempt to explain my philosophical reaction to Mickey Mice today. See, to entertain the folks waiting to get 'Mickey's autograph', they played a film reel in the lobby of 'his house' which showed all the versions of Mickey-- moving smoothly back and forth from new to old, from original to 3Dish ToonTown and back, with complete irreverence for chronology. And nobody winced. Nobody was bothered because it worked. It was valid. Even though original Mickey probably would not have recognized his modern manifestation, all of the artists were dancing around an essential Mickey-- not by imitating it, but by CREATING it. Who knows how Mickey will manifest by the time I'm taking (or not taking) my own kids to Disneyland... but every new version adds to the compiled picture, the constructed essence of Mickey.

The Latest Manifestation of the Mickey Form

4. If you so much as suggest that ANY attraction at Disneyland is even VAGUELY comparable to Space Mountain in awesomeness, I will punch you in the jaw. Nobutsurious. Why were those other rides even invented? (Ok, I'll give Indiana Jones the credit it's due here too-- if only to have a second-best to keep the supreme best-ness of Space Mountain in perspective.)

 If Disneyland ever goes back to its old pay-by-ride system, I'll be back for Space Mountain like errey Thursday (it proved an excellent day to go-- 15 minutes was my top wait time!). Until then, I am so happy to keep hanging out in the "real world", where only science, economics, history, sociology, psychology, and the government can create strange, fictitious representations of reality for me!

Had your own strange and maybe even slightly existential experiences at Disneyland lately? Do tell!  Comments are open!

~Ely

I'm not a 'Feminist' (But I need Feminism!)

`Isms' are slippery things. Besides the fact they're constantly being formed and re-formed by the cultural contexts in which they live, just about every member of that culture associates with and defines them differently. That's why I'm wary of attaching my name to any `ism'-- especially any one that I've spent as little time exploring and attempting to understand as Feminism. I don't have the audacity-- or the trust-- that would be required to call myself a Feminist.

But Feminism as a historical and contemporary movement is the ground I stand on. It's the air I breathe. It's the reason why I'm on track to graduate with my my Master's degree a few months after my 23rd birthday; it's the reason why I know that I too am created in God's image; it's the reason why I can participate in acts of intellectual generosity such as poetic perfomance and blogging. That's why I'm a little confused to see so many women proudly denouncing Feminism on the Internet. It feels like watching someone slap her mother. In public.

Now, don't get me wrong. A few years ago, I was right there with them. Feminism had been related to me as the battle cry of a bunch of man-hating power-hungry bra-burning megabitches, and it wasn't something I wanted to be associated with either. As a strong daughter of a family full of strong women, I didn't see what everyone was so upset about, either. I knew what Feminism was, and I knew that I didn't need it. But then, during college, I noticed that all was not right in the world of gender relations-- either in my own context or abroad. In one of those beautiful coincidences of timing, I soon read, and then met, a few real-life feminists (female and male). And I realized that I'd allowed a rich, significant, and incredibly NECESSARY global paradigm shift to be charicatured into an irrational bogeywoman in my mind. 

I read the 18th century writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, who wanted girls to learn their worth and capabilities as well as math and critical thinking, and I was thankful that I grew up knowing myself as a whole and complete person. I met a male Feminist classmate who was nauseated to watch the male third of our class take three-fourths of the floor time in discussion, and I realized how normal it still feels to be underrepresented. I thought about how my mother and my grandmother raised my sister and I while my father was in prison, and I feel their quiet strength pulsing in my veins and reminding me that I can handle anything. These are the faces of Feminism.

Of course, they aren't the only faces. Here I must plead ignorance on specifics, but I imagine that Feminists, being human beings, sometimes hold onto resentments which aren't productive or life-giving. Some may be reactionary; some may be more emotional than logical; some may be terrible scholars or writers or persuaders. Some may simply be wrong. But if associating with ______ism means agreeing with everything that every _______ist has ever said or written, well, then I quit Christianity.* But in both cases I've been comforted by the fact that we don't simply get absorbed by every notion that we stand too close to. There's little risk of me slipping into agreement with all Christians even when I count myself among them, and there's even less risk of being completely defined by Feminism simply because I refuse to uproot myself from the soil in which myself and the feminists (and the anti-feminists) are together planted.

So as far as I can tell, no matter how you choose to associate with Feminism-- as a Feminist, as a gender-egalitarian, as an antifeminist-- the movement is already associated with you. You can take the woman out of the movement, but you can't take the movement out of the woman. Or the man. 

~ ~ ~

*I'm not going to lie; I've considered that option. I constantly have to ask myself if I've let it become another 'ism'-- if I'm a Christian or a Christianist.

Today's Our Day, Singles!

It's recently occurred to me that as a third-century church father, St. Valentine was probably celibate. Celibate, as in voluntarily, perpetually single.

That and the lack of evidence that Valentine even cared about other peoples' romance made me wonder how the hell this day got hijacked by our happily paired-off friends. It's really quite properly our day, as far as I can tell. (Not that we won't share-- especially cause we know how it feels to not be shared with!)

As unhealthy and self-pitying as they often are, I understand the complaints about singleness underrepresentation on Valentine's feast day. Even as a very happily single person, each Valentine's for the past several years has been a time marker for me, an 'Oh, I am not looking at this day from the other side of the divide yet. And I might not, ever."

And I don't mean that to be cynical. I just don't believe the modern narrative that singleness is a curse to be gotten rid of as quickly as possible. In my work at a retirement community, I've met many amazing, fulfilled life champions who have never been married, and a good handful who met and married their first loves in the retirement community after age 60. And I think that's beautiful. I wouldn't mind it in the slightest.

There's a very vivid happiness in this space of not-needing, of being free to invest in community in so many multi-faceted ways, of living and making decisions exclusively by God's beckonings. As a culture, we don't celebrate that enough. So let's start. The reason this is a day of Couple's cheeze and Single's griping is that we haven't joined the celebration.

Today's our day, single people. We're only as alone as we decide to be. Let's choose community. Let's choose connection. Let's choose love.