Today I went to a writing group that my sister-in-law leads. I’ve been wanting to for a while and since I’m transitioning into a different work situation I had time this week. I’ve done a little bit of writing to prompts and this time the prompt was to write about “a yearning.” I wasn’t prepared for the structure that was given. We were given 20 minutes to write and the following is what came out, unedited. The italicized phrases indicate the structure given, to begin each paragraph. I was a touch surprised as the story finished up. I recognized a part of me longing for the certainty I once had, and certainty that intellectually I now see as limiting and harmful. [This is actually one of my favorite pieces, likely because it just fell out without a lot of time to try to phrase and polish; and I was a bit surprised by the ending.]

I don’t know if any of you will see yourselves in this. If so, this is dedicated to all of you who feel the somewhat disorienting feeling when a part of you wishes to return to a way of life you now recognize as unhealthy.

Once upon a time everything was right.

Every day Jo would arise with the sun and tend to the butterflies and the bees and the flies. When they were all in harmony with her soft humming the would leave the village where the GOOD people lived and head to the woods where the bad people lived. Jo loved doing what was right and good.

But one day Jo noticed that one of the flies, Abraham she thought it was, was listing a touch to the left. He was moving fast and almost out of sight among the long shadows of morning while she hesitated. Jo launched into a full sprint, something generally frowned upon, and before she thought it out fully (another habit of Bad people) Jo was plunging deep into the forest after Abraham.

Because of that Jo was suddenly deeper in the forest than she had ever wanted to go. The morning light wasn’t yet penetrating this far in

Because of that she was suddenly sprawling ear first through dirt and vines and shrubs.

Because of that it took Jo a minute to realize that she was looking up into a village of bad people doing ordinary (and, if Jo were being honest with herself, quite fun looking) bad people activities. Like not thinking through the long term consequences of dipping the apple slices in the peanut butter rather than the proper spreading of peanut butter on the apple with a knife.

Until finally Jo discovered a rather goofy grin on a face just like hers; well, actually it was hers.

Ever since then Jo has been confused.

Dear Rob,

After you spoke Saturday afternoon at Olympia, WA convention a couple of ladies sent me some excerpts from your sermon. It was hurtful to them on several levels. Because of the place you hold in the church and the potential influence of your words it feels important for me to respond publicly. I want to focus on what you said regarding “Gen Z women want to stay home and have children. They want to submit to their husband.” I feel I know you pretty well Rob and I believe that if you could truly understand how many women have been harmed by this message over the years, if you could truly understand how you have played a part in this, if you could truly understand how demeaning and hurtful your message was to many women, if you could allow yourself to understand, it would break your heart.

As a male, formerly with power and influence in the church, as one who myself in ignorance did much harm, I feel it is important for me to stay in a very narrow lane in this letter. I can't “speak for women.” I have nothing to say and no right to comment regarding a woman's choice in this matter. For any woman who, in wisdom, with unconditional support (whatever choice she makes) from her family, religious community, social networks, with education and without a shred of religious coercion, with a decent level of financial assurance, makes the choice to be a “traditional wife”, I have only respect. However, these last few years a number of women I have come to respect have helped me to understand how messaging like you gave Saturday has stripped away all of those positive factors from many women for years. Because of that many women have suffered greatly in their marriages, often enough with abusive spouses, but even with caring, well intentioned spouses.

My narrow lane is this:

You and I gave our lives to one religious system among many that has harmed many women. We were both part of that harm, explicitly at times, often implicitly. You and the church, like many others, refuse to acknowledge that harm, refuse to take measures and make changes that would lessen the potential for further harm. It is a serious misuse of power for any male of authority in a system with the track record of your church to speak the message you spoke. The way I see it now is that you and I, and many of our colleagues in this church and countless other preachers, have two tasks.

One, to listen to those who have been harmed and to learn from them.

Two, to make it clear that we support these women, Gen Z and whoever else, whatever choice they may make through their own connection with the Spirit.

Mark Simmons

PS I know many men have suffered in the 2x2 system as well and I don’t mean to diminish that. I am trying to keep a clear focus in this letter.

PPS if you are reading this as a woman and you feel your 2x2 church experience has been positive and beneficial, I respect that. I do hope you can sit with the unease that may come from being aware that what you found helpful was deeply harmful to others.

In this book, she tells of her 20 years of teaching the World Religions course at a small private college in Georgia, and the deep appreciation she gained for aspects of other faith traditions, apart from her own beloved Christianity. [I highly recommend the book. One I plan to listen to again]

As I listened to the book, specifically as I listened to the reactions of some of her students—in particular, the reactions of students who were distraught that she was finding anything of value outside of Christianity—my own experience came a little more into focus.

Twenty years ago, when I was a zealous Christian evangelist, if you had asked me, "Mark, what is the core concept of Christianity?" on my best days, I may have said, "Love."

However, if you had been watching my life, listening to the conversations I had, sitting through the sermons I prepared, being aware of the things I was concerned about, the advice and counsel I would give, and watching my interactions with people not of my own faith tradition, you might have been excused for coming to the conclusion that the core concept of Christianity is simply: everybody else is wrong.

In her book, Taylor tells about other religions whose followers, at least at their best, feel no need to convert, convince, and cajole. Among other examples, she tells of an Imam in a mosque telling her students that his greatest desire for them is that they become more faithful followers of Jesus.

What is it about Christianity—or at least about the flavor of Christianity that I, and many others were steeped in from birth? What is it about that worldview that can find no peace, no rest, without proving others to be wrong? How fragile is a faith that can only be meaningful when it diminishes all else.

And perhaps a more important question: “How have so many of us been able to move beyond that framework?”

As I was walking back to my truck another driver who I’ve gotten to know a little bit was getting parked. We chatted then I invited him over for quesadillas. He had already eaten but said he would come chat. I was getting my supper going on my butane burner set up on the back of my truck when he parked nearby and came over carrying a pair of mangoes, a knife and cutting board. As he arrived he said something to the effect of “blessings to you from the Lord for your hospitality.” (File that away for “later” conversation).

As, I finished getting my supper ready, and he cut up the mangoes, he started telling me of some of his hopes for a career other than trucking. Unsurprisingly, “later” came pretty quickly as he told me about his Hebrew studies. This led to him describing his revelation that the Jesus of Christian fame was a Jew, encouraging people to be better Jews. He considers himself “Messianic,” has gone to Jerusalem a couple of times for feasts, and acknowledges a Lord greater than himself who he tries to honor. There were some things about his part in the conversation that stood out to me in stark contrast to the religion of my birth, and indeed much of Christianity.

I was asking him the questions. He didn’t once try to convince me of the rightness of his revelation and views. I got the distinct impression that he viewed his convictions as incumbent on him and for him alone.

He twice acknowledged his failures to live up to the example of Yeshua (Jesus), but without beating himself up.

He talked about the duties of following Yeshua, but doesn’t seem to be enslaved by them.

Before our conversation I had found him to be consistently approachable, kind, gentle, earnest, and helpful.

Praise to Yeshua.

(I came back to this draft after a couple of weeks and it seems worth publishing. I just wrote the title. It occurred to me as I tried to make up a title that Jesus likely would have been right at home there… only I suspect he would have been insistent on teaching… and I’m not sure how I feel about that).

This with another ex 2x2, Cari Coston. Cari explains a very important aspect of high control groups.

As a young mother she was brought face to face with sexual abuse by one of the ministers in the church and that led her to be very careful for the physical safety of her children through the next 20 years.

She follows up that with a very clear message about the implicit and explicit spiritual messaging in the system, speaking to parents who believe they can stay in the system and keep their children safe.

(For context, one of the foundational doctrines of the 2x2 Church is that the ministers, of which I was one, in claiming to follow Matthew 10, literally do not have homes of their own. Instead we would stay with the congregants often moving every two or three nights to a different home).

Physical safety sure, but there's more...

https://youtu.be/VF1glMBZoWI?si=eyWM2vUkAnMUPzLg

In the same playlist see four other conversations with parents.

FEAR NOT

There's a myth that's been around for a long time, that this phrase appears 365 times in the Bible—one for every day of the year. It's not true, on a number of levels, but it's potent. I love the sentiment. And that's how I've come to feel about much of the Gospel message. Historically factual? I’m not so sure. Potent? Yes.

Apparently, 'fear not' was the first message given on the resurrection morning. I love that.

I had a brief note from some relatives this morning as they were on their way to their Sunday fellowship meeting. They’re still involved in the 2x2 church, so no mention of Easter, of course. I don’t know if Easter was referenced in their Sunday fellowship service, but from long history, I can assure you that in far too many 2x2 meetings this morning, Easter services in other churches were disparaged. Meanwhile, I was driving, in my truck on the way to pick up a load, listening to the live stream from St. John’s Episcopal Cathedral in Spokane, Washington. That’s where I heard the emphasis on the message, 'Fear not,' on Easter morning. (By the way, there was no disparaging of how other churches did things in that service. Let that difference settle in for a moment) . "Fear not", said the angels to the women on their way to the tomb that early morning.

What if Jesus didn't accomplish something new and wondrous, but rather simply showed us what always had been right before us? What if the message was not that something new and wondrous had happened, but that humanity had been reminded of something primordial, as ancient as time itself? Something known before Genesis 3.

What if you never were in DANGER from “God”? What if there never was anything to fear?

Or do you?*

*Hint: Yes you matter!

Most weeks I come back into town on Friday, turn south towards my parking area, and see a series of signs. Big block letters you can see from quite a ways away.

YOU MATTER

YOU REALLY MATTER

YOU ARE ENOUGH

I suppose that these days self compassion and validations can feel like a bit of a fad, but they are nothing new. I’ve written of the Priest, The Venerable Bruno Lanteri, who 500 years ago wrote of ‘failing a thousand times in a day and yet rising again with peace in his heart.’ You would likely find gentleness and compassion in any ancient spiritual tradition, including the teachings of Jesus. So why is it so hard to really believe in these things? To really commit ourselves to self-compassion and gentleness towards others? I ask that because the series doesn’t stop at three signs. I love that row of hope as I come home on a Friday, tired and ready for a weekend and always think, “If only they had had the courage to stop at three.” Unfortunately, there is a fourth.

YOU MATTER

YOU REALLY MATTER

YOU ARE ENOUGH

And then…

Sign #4 (Fortunately the letters are smaller. It takes more words.)

SUICIDE DOESN’T END THE PAIN.

IT JUST PASSES IT ON TO SOMEONE ELSE

D***. So close. Why didn’t they stop!

I admit that I don’t know the intentions of the one who put up the signs and I don’t know the effect they may have had on some weary soul facing the hardest day of their life. I’m a long way from that space, even on my hardest days. But I’ll tell you how I see this.

Some well-intentioned soul hears of the pain, hears of the deaths. Maybe they even know someone personally. They see others putting up these signs YOU MATTER. YOU ARE ENOUGH. Maybe they even read an article on compassion. Maybe they are gentle and compassionate by nature.** And they are inspired to put up the signs. They get three signs up. They believe in gentleness, in affirmations… but… “what if this isn’t enough” they think. Subconsciously they decide: “I better default to what I know best.” “Bring on the guilt.” “Bring on the shame.” “I don’t know if these other ideas really work. “

Well, I’ve never been close to feeling like taking my own life was the best decision for myself and my loved ones. I can’t imagine. But I have been through my own challenging times. And I can tell you, “these things” work. Gentleness and compassion. When I revealed my own darkest secrets to friends, their gentleness and compassion made all the difference to me. When I experienced that kind of compassion from others it gave me permission to practice it on myself. It has made a great difference.

There is a lot going on around us that would tell us that these things aren’t enough. Maybe they’re not. But can we give them a try without reverting back to shame, guilt, and blame?

(If that series of signs resonates differently with you I’d love to hear your thoughts.)

**I believe we all are gentle and compassionate by nature until we learn it isn’t safe, so maybe I should have said “gentle by personality”

In the grief ritual training I am taking, Francis Weller references a model from Michael Mead on the three levels of communication.

We slip easily into level one.

We long for level three.

We resist level two.

The first is the social level:

 “Hey, how are you?”

 “Awful weather, isn’t it?”

 “Did you catch the game yesterday?”

The third level is deep, soul connection. The trick is you can’t get to level three without spending time in level two.

The second level is grief, rage, betrayal, abandonment, loneliness, etc.

I started this post a while ago and then ran out of steam for the above-mentioned reason. I was trying to write about spiritual bypassing and realized that there are people on Substack who have written about that far better than I can. So I’ve scrapped most of what I had written and will give just one example.

Just this morning, I was trying to find some information in old emails. I didn’t find what I was looking for, but I did find an email exchange about a lady who ended up being the only remaining member of our church in a rather large city. Some of our ministers had visited her and expressed to my co-worker and me that this lady was feeling very alone. My co-worker responded (and I would have been in agreement), “She’s not really alone, and God will help her to continue on.” There are situations where such words would be appropriate and helpful. As I looked back on it this morning, it seemed well-intentioned but dismissive. Did we need to respond that way because we couldn’t face the pain in our own lives?

That was part of it. It feels like in our church we often used a carelessly crafted religion to escape life rather than fully live.

Since leaving the church two years ago, I have really enjoyed the space to allow life to be real, in all its glory and agony.

“Hey Mark, how is life?”

“It’s real. Some days are amazing, some days brutal. But it's always real, and I am loving that shift.”

One of the panelists was Lakota Sioux teacher Donald “Del” Laverdue. His answer:

“Become a good relative to one plant”

Ooooookayyyyy….

Apparently we’ve been living in different realities here.

How dissimilar are these realities?

Well, as I think back on my immediate assumptions in response to that answer a couple of things have occurred to me.

First, become a good relative… When I first heard that, I thought of a plant I could care for. That would be a good relative, right? I, the significant one, the one with something to offer and do, would care for it. Mr. Laverdue went on to speak of spending time with one plant: get to know it, learn about it, learn from it. I think that is one of the main reasons we live in a world such as we have created. For far too long we have prioritized doing. When we have become aware of having done harm we have thought of ‘fixing’ it. When we have looked at others not like ourselves, we have thought of teaching. When we have seen others with less than ourselves we have thought of giving. This man prioritizes being with, observing, learning.

Then, there is the whole RELATIVE piece. How did Mr Laverdue miss the part where I’m the boss? Did he never read Genesis?

God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth , and subdue it. Rule the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and every creature that crawls on the earth.”

Genesis chapter 1 verse 28 KJV

Does Mr Laverdue not realize our sacred duty to subdue the earth, and apparently everything non-human (and human if needed). There is a chapter heading in The Fourth Economy by Ron Davidson.

God told man to subdue the earth. After a while the earth said “OK, OK! I’m subdued. How about you go and work on some other commandment… like maybe “love one another?”

A relative to a plant. Not a master. Not a ruler. Not a subduer. Not even a caretaker. Donald Laverdue went on to explain. Sit with the plant. Get to know it. Learn about it and learn from it.

I can’t say I’ve done real well at this so far. I have two “favorite” rest areas. It sometimes works to sleep at them during my travels. I have selected two trees. When I go there I take a little extra time to touch them, to wonder what they might teach me. What would they like me to understand? What I understand so far is that I appear to have all the power. If I need a branch I cut it from a tree. If I am worried that its roots will disturb the foundation of our garage I cut it down, pour gasoline down a hole I’ve drilled into the stump and burn the roots (true story). I”ve learned that the tree never complains. I haven’t learned to “never complain.” I don’t think that is the point, and it could be a quite harmful point to take away. Rather, what I am beginning to glimpse is that the trees, they wouldn’t mind. Really, they wouldn’t mind so much. They would give their branches gladly. That tree in our back yard, it didn’t want to cause trouble for me. It really didn’t. It didn’t choose to be planted so close to our garage as to cause problems, and it couldn’t choose to move itself. It didn’t mind so much being cut down. But a few moments’ consideration would have been nice. An “I’m sorry I need to do this” Or maybe “Thank you for understanding” I’m not sure. I’m pretty used to my paradigm. It’s taking some effort to learn from another one. I do know I was never taught to consider myself a relative to the non-humans. I find it to be a beautiful thought. I don’t know that it will ultimately change my actions much, but I hope it can help me to move a little more ‘awaring-ly’ through the world. Gentle with all relatives, human and non-human.

[In Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer illustrates some of the indigenous views of the natural world with a parable. Imagine your sister comes in and asks “Have you seen Gramma?” To which you reply “It is in the kitchen fixing dinner.”] Maybe try to catch yourself next time you reduce some other sacred life to an “it.”

consider checking out the website for SAND

https://scienceandnonduality.com/

I highly recommend the documentary ‘The Eternal Song’ and related documentaries on indigenous experiences and wisdom]

Shortly after I left the church two years ago, while I was living with my parents, a friend and I went to the community center to use the hot tub. I was really looking forward to a private time but when we got there, I saw to my mild dismay that there were three other people already using it. We started visiting and I soon learned that they were from Alaska, my home state. At some point in the conversation I mentioned something about my time in the mission work in Alaska. In the course of the visit they told their stories, which also included many years of Christian mission work in Alaska. After several more minutes the man asked me “does this find you still trusting in our Lord?” I thought briefly about how to respond to that, and after a brief hesitation I looked right at him and said, “I’m having a hard time with that right now.” The man, his wife and her sister all looked at me, nodded very gently, and one of them said “that’s just fine.”

In the two years before the crisis in our church broke, I began to open up to trusted people about my crisis of faith and my expansion into agnosticism. Generally, anyone committed to the church system we were in would view my experience as a problem that needed solved or fixed.

What was it about our church (and many other religions) that led us to view ourselves and others as problems that need solved or fixed? The answer to that is beyond the scope of this note [feel free to post your thoughts]. I simply want to express what an amazing gift it was to feel that ‘OK’ness’ from others.

But the road don't lie. It's four hundred eighty-two miles from the Pilot in Caldwell, Idaho, to Fife, Washington (my route yesterday). You can push it all you want, but the truck's governed at 65 and it'll take as long as it takes. It might take longer. It WON'T take less.

So once I make my delivery, drive to the pickup, get loaded, swing by Pilot - all that I can rush. But the road does not reward hurry. It's a Zen practice. You just have to accept the realities of time.

I've come to really appreciate those times, knowing I just have to sit and let the miles go by. More efficient? Nope. Try harder? How? Stress out? Why? Perform better? Uhhh, good luck with that one. It will take the time it takes.

The road keeps you honest.

Do you have tasks like that in your life? Tasks where efficiency and productivity, hustle and bustle aren't rewarded? Tasks you just have to let develop in the moment, as the time unfolds.

Last week I didn't post anything. It wasn't an especially awful week, it certainly wasn't an especially good week. It was just a week and I had nothing to write. This week I began to write something that's been on my mind and heart for well over a month and I wrote up an article on the subject the last couple of days. I actually put quite a bit of thought into it and it is something that I feel strongly about and that feels important to me. But it didn't sit right. I'm still processing why. For one thing I recognize that I'm quite a ways out of my depth in some areas of what I was writing about.

As I sat with that thought, driving the truck to my morning delivery, I was reminded of something I witnessed recently. This past summer there was a online summit centered on indigenous teachings and wisdom.

[check out https://scienceandnonduality.com/ I highly recommend the documentary ‘The Eternal Song’ and related documentaries on indigenous experiences and wisdom]

One of the speakers was Gabor Maté. For those of you who are not familiar with Dr Maté and his work I'll say it this way: he's a global rockstar in the trauma field. One of the biggest names. During the summit he hosted a panel discussion with indigenous teachers from Australia, New Zealand, and the Americas.

There has been some talk the last while from non-white healers about the limitations of the western definition of trauma. I don't understand it. What I do know is Dr Maté has dedicated his life to working with traumatized populations and observing the effects of trauma on them. He has spoken and written extensively on the subject of trauma. During this discussion I watched as he asked these indigenous teachers to help him understand their views on trauma. For me it was a profound demonstration of humility. After a lifetime of teaching others he demonstrated to a global audience a recognition of his own ignorance and willingness to learn.

I think that's all I have to say today.

Dancing in Small Spaces

I’ve been reading Dancing in Small Spaces, by Leslie A. Davidson. My mother passed away March 29th of this year, and my father survives her. He has Parkinson’s and the onset of dementia. My wife’s mother has Parkinson’s and dementia, more advanced than my fathers.

The subtitle of the book is: One Couple’s Journey with Parkinson’s Disease and Lewy Body Dementia. Because the two commonly go together I assumed it was about Leslie’s husband. About a quarter of the way into the book I began to realize it is about Leslie’s experience with Parkinson’s and Lincoln’s experience with dementia. Wow! I suppose because of watching my mother experience Amyloidosis while my father experienced Parkinson’s, the realization of Leslie and Lincoln’s double experience hit me hard.

This morning I read of the Christmas party they attended the year they found out about their diagnoses and made them known to family and friends. The partygoers received them with

grace and generosity, generously enfolding them, illness and all, into their presence. A few pages earlier Leslie describes how “three good men offer to take Lincoln on, what will be his last canoe trip.”

“You must sleep in the same tent with him”

“You go with him if he goes outside to pee”

and on and on. _.

John comes over and with “good- humored, patient guidance” to help Lincoln winnow down mountains of clothing and gear.

By this time, as I was reading this morning, I was undone, I was weeping. I’ll see if I can explain why.

I left the exclusive, fundamentalist church I was born into a couple of years ago. For a while I developed a habit seasoned with snark. I’ll retroactively apply the habit to this book now.

I read of the friends taking Lincoln on his last canoe trip, I read of the Christmas party. With an unchurched mind and eyes, I turn to my wife and tell her what I am reading; I exclaim “what amazing people” … ”too bad they are all going to hell.”

There were times when that message was explicit in our church. By the time I came of age it was trending to implicit. Explicit or implicit, I was marinated from birth in the sauce of separation. About 75,000 of us were “in the right way,” had “honest hearts,” were “willing for the price,” etc. The other 8 billion lacked those qualities (unless before their death they met and accepted our preachers (of which I was one), professing allegiance to our church system thereby revealing that they had indeed possessed those qualities).

Today I have a simple message to that indoctrination of my past.

F*** that

I wept as I read of Leslie and Lincoln this morning. Not because of the beautiful story Leslie is weaving. I wept because I’ve been robbed!

2×2 church you robbed me! Robbed me of 50 years of being a human being.

And today again I curse you for it. And I rejoice to be free of you, to be a human. Glorious. Inglorious. Always Human.

Thank you to so many people who have walked with me on this journey the last two years, helping me to be free.

Recently uncovered documents from the 3rd Zing dynasty reveal that near the end of his life Buddha realized he hadn’t yet fully plumbed the depths of human suffering so he took a job as a delivery driver (insert your own personal frustration generator here). This led to his formulating the little known 5th Noble Truth:

all suffering arises from anticipating arriving home early on a Friday

The past several years have had their share of chaotic moments and I have found value in meditation and mindfulness. Especially sitting in silence in nature. Not quite “black-belt” level yet but I feel it has added meaning and stability in my life. So, this past Friday I found myself at the warehouse waiting to get loaded. All I had to do was get a truckload of Pepsi on my truck and drive home. No problem. As the quarter hours ticked by with no apparent progress (and Portland traffic patiently waiting for me)... let's just say the number of less than polite words per minute exponentially increased. My nube oscura expanded to absorb others. Beginner’s mind took on a whole new meaning. Zen calm was replaced with frustration’s storm.

Some days it feels that way; all the hard work we have done to grow, to change, to heal has been for nothing. So I got up Saturday and sat again with my candle in the quiet morning.

Sometimes courage simply says, I’ll keep going.

Be gentle.

Sunday night this note stopped with the line above but I got in the truck early this morning (Monday) and apparently Buddha hadn't learned it all yet. About 30 minutes into my drive the frustration cropped up again. This time it caught me by complete surprise so I took it as information. I learned of a need I hadn't acknowledged yet. I went back over Friday's meltdown and thought of it, not as failure, but as information. Information that unacknowledged needs and grief yet lurk.

Also information that trucker hissy fits might be useful in highlighting the needs, but not in meeting them. A gentle self hug works much better.