As you can tell by the entire point of this blog, my own spiritual platform is to advocate for a "real" spirituality, one that both admits and allows for warts, wrinkles, and half-baked commitments, yet still strives for spiritual betterment. If my version of spiritual development were a graph it wouldn't be a straight line shooting upwards, it would look more like a heart monitor's spikes: up, down, but still progressing however slightly. Spiritual perfectionists need not apply. And this brings me to (drum roll, please):
The very unique group of usually Christian women who are into "The Sacred Feminine." While there are outliers and exceptions, I too often have experienced that these women bother me. There, I said it. (Where is the lightning bolt that will now strike me down)? And so, I have decided to hold them virtually hostage until they cave to my list of mischievous demands:
1. Speak normally --not in a whispery voice as if you are the heroine of a Victorian novel who is in love with your own words.
2. Love womankind without demanding that everyone massage each other's feet or meet to dance in the moonlight topless.
3. Find new phrases and metaphors that don't involve feathers, quilts, or being vivifed and renewed.
4. Confess something really naughty, not just stealing a cupcake.
5. And for Pete's sake, embrace a bit of bawdy passion. For example, instead of always using the clinical term for genitalia, just call it a "pecker!"
I will hold this group virtually hostage until these demands are met and until they engage in rip roaring laughter in which most wind up peeing in their pants.
How did women's spirituality become a dour, academic, perfectionistic, and overly mature thing? Being in the flow of uninhibited, childlike joy is my kind of Sacred Feminine spirituality.
1 comment:
YESSSSSSS - you've taken the words right out of my mouth! Why on earth can't they speak like regular people with a normal voice?
I wonder whether they could ever really yell when mad, but maybe that kind doesn't get healthily mad, they just snicker. THAT kind makes the "hair on my neck bristle", it's the same kind that's sweet and 'holy' in church and turns their heads pretending not to see you when you happen to run in to them in a shopping mall.
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