Poly on the prowl

Those of you who have followed my blog for a long time know that I have occasionally written about the polyamorous lifestyle.  That's because, in part,  there was a point at which I was seriously considering writing a feature article about it for a local newspaper. I'm always looking for the eclectic, the unconventional and the unpredictable.

Trust me, if you had written about religion in a fairly small town for seven or so years, you would do the same.

I have also written about polyamory because I have developed respect for some of its practitioners.  In the process of researching my article, I spoke with a number of people who publicly represent polyamory. One thing they emphasized, over and over again, is that integrity is crucial to "the lifestyle." 

From my conversations, I have deduced that one big difference between polyamorists and married folk on the low down is that they are candid about their other relationships, and work to enable communication between all the parties in the relationships.

To all my friends whose blood pressure rises when they hear the descriptor: I want to be clear here.  I'm not endorsing a poly lifestyle. I'm not opposing it, either. As a journalist, my job is to write about it, and let you make up your own minds.

And just in case you are wondering,  I'm not inclined to polyamory.  Trust me, there's a reason I'm telling you this.

I do, however, have my profile on a dating site that lets cheetahs, polys, and others into more alternative lifestyle post profiles.

Some are straight up about their status: "married."

Others call themselves "alternative."

I don't usually converse with guys who reach out to me from the "alternative" side of the dating cosmos.

Once in a blue moon, however, my curiosity gets me very close to hot water.

Let's call the hot water in this case "Bob" (as in Bob, Carol, Ted & Alice).

To all appearances,  Mid-Atlantic Bob works in the health care industry for, let's say, big pharma, (just an educated guess).  

He identified himself to me as a fellow writer.  Quoting from my own profile, he said "Looking forward to the 'dignity and interest' treatment if you care to chat. You're very attractive."

I responded: "Forgive me for being so bold, but are you married, living with your wife?"

Within moments, he came back at me: "I am "seeing" somebody, but a long way from being convinced that we're good for the long haul."

"But I shouldn't lead you on", I said. Then I noted that not only was I geographically limited, but I was also an ordained minister (this often scares guys away, and, as you can imagine, I sometimes wait until an actual conversation to mention it).

I was already wondering  why my  virtual pal hadn't talked to his girlfriend about his issues. Besides, it was late at night, and honestly, I rarely come across smart men online.  

Teach me to avoid the smart ones.

Turns out (he says) he's got a pal who is an Episcopal minister -- and a doctor, would ya believe it? "But yes, the moral dilemmas are legion" he wrote, and getting involved with me would probably confront you with some of them, although I wouldn't be able to predict which ones."

Me neither.

After a few comments about how, as I grow older, I have come to appreciate transparency and openness, I shared my blog URL, and advised him not to settle for 'good enough."

"I hope I treated with you dignity and respect" I concluded, thinking we were done.

The next morning, he wrote back: "Have you ever considered the concept of polyamory"?

Here's where I made a mistake. I will talk to almost anyone about anything -- I figure I might learn something new.  I asked him if he was considering it -- and shared my own take, which is that it takes a lot of emotional maturity, can often work to the advantage of the male (if there is a male), and can bring with it a fair amount of drama.

We went back and forth on this topic throughout the day, on and off.  I asked him if he was considering adding a partner to his own relationship. He wrote back: "The short answer is that I'm not totally satisfied, and I don't want to dump her, either. She's a good person and doesn't deserve to be dumped just because my heart wanders and she can't be everything to me. Maybe somebody could, but I'm increasingly skeptical about that."

I asked him if he'd be candid with his partner about his wishes.

"Yes, I've told her I've been exploring the concept. She's nervous about it, and says she might want to connect with an old boyfriend if I do, but says she doesn't want to dump me either. So far it's all talk for both of us.'

Throughout this dialogue, I never gave him any reason to suppose that I had more than an intellectual curiosity about polyamory. But I did, perhaps, give him enough feedback to continue the dialogue. In retrospect, perhaps that was an error. But in retrospect, perhaps, he was trying to lay a trap for me.

That might account for what happened next.

Short story: I reiterated that I wasn't poly material. He asked to meet me as a friend,  "offline." First I suggested that perhaps we talk on the phone, because I didn't have enough information. Later that night, I told him that I was growing increasingly uneasy  -- perhaps it was because I wondered why he would WANT to meet someone who would be merely a friend.

"Hurting some other woman? I can't imagine doing that," I wrote him. I was a hundred percent certain that I didn't want to be other than a friend.

"No problem" wrote my "friend " the next morning. "Too bad, though, because your fears of the worst are what my "Carol" says are, in her words, "OTT." She had already agreed to meet you for lunch/dinner to answer your questions about polyamory and our relationship." 

Not only are Bob and Carol polyamorous, but they also have a "hot bi babe". Pretty much nothing of what he'd told me about the practicalities of his life were true.  

Then he did a "je t'accuse." "Literally nobody on... even the most intellectually adventurous such as yourself, seem to have the courage to accept and engage with me on the basis that it's possible to be successful in polyamory -- as we have for five years now."

Seriously -- you accuse ME of lack of courage?

For about ten minutes, I was stunned. Frankly, I imagined showing up for a "friendly" lunch, and meeting Bob and his partner.  

Would I have tipped a glass of water down his pants? Or would I have taken out a notebook? 

That's one story that won't get written, gentle reader.

Bob had commented on my "congenial, compatible mind." Perhaps his Carol was not as educated as he is. He's looking for more -- and more.  "He's not a polyamorist, he's a glutton:" commented a friend when I shared this story.

I'm a journalist, I warned him. I like stories. 

I tell stories. And actually, this is a pretty good one.

And beneath my initial astonishment is a less naive perspective. 

I had put polyamorists on a bit of a pedestal, because they seem so much more honest than the reams of cheaters out there. 

Now I know better. Every group has its cads. 

And lots of them hang out online. 

Words you might want to think about before you say them

I have a friend who is an all round good man.  He's intelligent, a great family guy, funny, and really good at what he does.

But he's got a habit that drives me crazy.  When I ask him how thing are going are home, he'll tell me: "We've really been blessed."

At that point, I have to do some quick mental gymnastics --  after all, that's a term of common use among Christians, particularly evangelical Christians.

Perhaps you also are "blessed."  You have elderly parents in good health.  Or your kids are all doing well in school.  You have babies on your schedule, not on someone else's. You met the love of your life in college, and things have been going just great ever since.

Of course, if you are a person of faith, you would ascribe this to God's good favor working in your family, your business, your love life, and even your, forgive me fertility cycle.

The only problem with this term?

The man next to you in church might be watching his sixty something mom die painfully of cancer.  The person three pews down could have a teenage boy who is hostile, distant and down most of the time -- every night she goes home from work afraid of what she's going to find.

The pastor preaching that upbeat sermon might be struggling with an alcohol addiction that threatens to take over his life -- it's a genetic thing in his family.

Wait... you mean that they aren't blessed? Well, what are they then? Cursed?

This isn't easy stuff.  At various times in my life, which has had some struggles and some frank tragedy, I have wondered why some people's lives seem to go without incident, and others are laced with horror.

People in Colorado: blessed or cursed?

People in Syria?

 Lottery-winners?

Bestselling authors? Brilliant writers whose manuscripts never get published?

I do believe that God works in this world.  But I admit that I'm not sure how, though I have experienced times of  feeling blessed in so many ways.

 I don't believe that God picks and chooses who will be given "normal" lives, and who will have to wrest meaning from them with tears and sadness and doubt.

Many of us have times of  normalcy, happiness and grief.

I have heard people who are terribly ill, or those who have lost someone they love say those words -- and been thankful that they can find grace and character and beauty in the twilight.

So I don't honestly have a theologically correct, nicely packaged answer to this dilemma.  My concern is mostly pastoral.

The next time you are exuberant, and those words are about to flow from your lips, please think at least once. Take a look at the person or people who will hear or read them.

And take care, my brothers and sisters, that your "blessing"  cannot be heard as their condemnation.

Faith Fridays: "The Happy Atheist" A Review

There's a certain piquant, perhaps even slightly lurid quality about a woman of the cloth reviewing a tome by an atheist professor of biology (with a prize-winning science blog, yet!) 

In the old days, perhaps one might have even packed this reflection between brown-paper and sold it under cover of night at your local newsstand.  After all, weren't women clergy an impossibility?

But in an age in which aspiring politicians sext young women on Twitter and butlers steal documents from the Vatican bedchambers, alas, nothing seems astonishing. 

As long as there have been theists (going back at least as far as the epics of the ancient world), there have been atheists. History is threaded with the writings and lives of famous non-believers. 

But the explosion of electronic communication, the secularization of Western Europe, and the surging number of Americans who don't identify with an institutional religious practice has amplified the voice and perhaps the influence of the no-God party. 

Atheism (as much as a non-believer with a polemical edge like Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins would dislike this way of putting it) part of the dialogue about faith in the public square.

And if P Z Myers had his druthers, human beings would root out past errors, and give God, described as a "useless old fart"  and a "cranky old geezer" (metaphorically, of course, for God doesn't exist in Myersworld), his "pink slip."

In this series of sketches on such topics as "The Top Ten Reasons Religion Is Like Pornography"  Myers sets out to mock, rend, and generally deride the beliefs of any and every person of faith (except, of course, for those who have faith in science).

"Science and religion," he writes, "are two different ways of looking at the universe, and changing the world, and I believe that you must set one aside to follow the other. One works; the other doesn't."

Sometimes, however, Myers has sympathy for believers -- believers like Florida pastor (unlikely to be considered more than a huge nuisance, embarrassment or fraud by many Christians) Terry Jones, who has several times attempted to burn copies of the Koran.  After all, to Myers, the Koran and the Bible are only  books of superstitions and those who believe they are sacred texts ignorant dupes.

Myers writes scathingly of the misogynistic and patriarchal qualities of a faith born amidst ancient sheepherders and a God who is leader, master, commander.

In decimating this unreal, metaphorical God, those with no faith will realize that while they are alone in the universe, "we're all alone together."  That realization, and acceptance of the basics of evolution, will allow humans to be able to become free actors, able to choose to collaborate, and shoulder responsibilities far more weighty than that of fealty to a "trail boss."

There is much in this book that will outrage, and infuriate, many people of faith.  That's not a good reason to stay away from it, however.  If your beliefs cannot contend in the marketplace of ideas, are they really yours?

But it's hard to believe that this volume reveals Myers at his most convincing (here he sings to the choir).  Instead of "The Happy Atheist," this volume might more appropriately be called "The Snarky Atheist."

A bigger issue? We live in an age in which many have unlimited faith in both science and reason -- two disciplines that have let us down again and again. 

There are, as well, many scientists who see no contradiction between faith and science (it is difficult to think, for example,  of Dr. Francis Collins as a dupe or an idiot).

Far safe for Myers to dwell in the realm of parody than engage the messy realities that lie behind the puppet show he has set up.

For real exposure to a rigorous and nuanced atheism, turn to neuroscientist Sam Harris, or the late Christopher Hitchens. Hell, turn to Myers himself -- his blog, which explores all manner of topics scientific and (anti) religious, fascinates.

But unless you can take being annoyed, and only sporadically  enlightened, don't turn to him here. 

Peace: it's not a fashion statement

Today Twitter and Facebook feeds filled up with statements about peace, and peacemaking, prayers for peace, statements from religions figures about peace, and general nods of approval.

Peace: it's a great idea.

"Peacemaking: even a better idea"!

I began to get grumpier and grumpier, until I felt like the Grinch sneaking around in Cindy Lou Who's house, destroying her Christmas tree.

I mean, isn't everybody having a great old time agreeing with each other?

Perhaps it's because mind meld on ANYTHING makes me so annoyed that it must be unhealthy.

Perhaps it's because I wrote a column on Syria, and pretty much every religious figure was saying the same thing: we probably shouldn't go in.

Let me be clear about what I'm not saying.

This isn't about whether we intervene militarily or don't go in.  I can understand and respect the arguments on both sides.

I'm very cool with Pope Francis calling for prayer and fasting -- heck, he wasn't even the Pope when Assad began his reign of terror. And a day of prayer and fasting can never hurt.

I have the most profound respect for people who have been activists for peaceful solutions to conflicts. I do believe that it's where Jesus wants us to begin -- he's pretty clear about this, is he not?

But why now? Why, all of a sudden, are we talking about peaceful solutions?

Isn't it a bit late to talk about that, when Syria is falling apart?

I'm not a pacifist. It's tough to be one when some of your own relatives (though not close ones) were gassed by Hitler or murdered in pogroms.

And because I'm not, I've been stewing about what our government could do in Syria for a few years to halt the genocide. The reading I've done and the people I've heard on NPR have confused me more, and made me more angry and distraught.

Now, I fear, it may be too late to do anything but harm.

Perhaps the best we can do is swop prayers on Facebook.  Perhaps it's a form of water-cooler reassurance.

But I  believe still peace is about action, not words.

It's damned hard to be a peacemaker. Look at Martin Luther King, or the young people who crept into Iraq before the war. Peacemaking, by definition brings you face to face with the enemy, doesn't it?

 It's much easier to talk about it than to do anything.

That, of course, is human nature.  We are a communal people.

Jesus got that -- his death was the ultimate act of peace with us and with God.

The Gospel is more demanding than we dare dream, most nights.  Changing our behavior and our hearts is a lifelong process.

And so I pray that God will have mercy on those of us, including me, who haven't always been peacemakers when it's so clear that this is what He calls us to do.

Blessed are those who hear -- and act.

On Syria, the church speaks with (almost) one voice

Kudos to my editor for allowing me  40 column inches -- and I still feel like I couldn't give "just war" theory an adequate analysis.

The interviews were predictably calm and scholarly until I reached the last interview of that day, one with the Rev. Allan Wolfe in Lancaster. Delightfully outspoken, he was un-hesitant to criticize the President for "an inadequate foreign policy" and general disdain for church pronouncements on religious issues.

The Catholic Church in the U.S. has a history of tangling with our current President on issues of religious freedom. But here, they make common cause with Protestant progressives and libertarians, including secular libertarians.

Fr. Wolfe doesn't think the President, or even many Catholic politicians, are listening to the voice of the Church. He might be correct. 

But I think that, if Obama's initiative goes down to defeat (fueled in part by payback time mentality in some conservative political quarters, most likely), some will, at least, use their denomination's stance for cover.

http://lancasteronline.com/article/local/891715_Column--Where-do-the-faithful-stand-on-Syria-.html

Late summer daze

To say that this has been a tough afternoon would be an understatement.

It actually started last night.  We all went out to dinner as a family -- the four of us, the ex, me, and the kids. We do that on special occasions. This was a delayed birthday party for Mr. C., and he chose a nice French restaurant.

The two children were doing well - competing with each other, talking a mile a minute, ordering expensive desserts.

But it became very clear to me, has been becoming clearer, that when it comes to her life, I'm on the outside looking in. Most of the decisions are made by her and her dad, and sometimes I'm invited in - not to the choice, but to the bread and circus around it. .

I'm not going to pass blame. Blame is such a loser's game, because, ultimately, we all share part of it. Actually, it's one of those things that are better shared, because then the solution can be a collaboration, too.

Reflecting on how distant she and I have become over the years made for a difficult morning.  This problem is so obdurate, and has so many layers, that sometimes it feels like I am imprisoned by one of those horror movie trees, come to life in a torrential downpour. I push, and push, and can't escape the tendrils of the past.

But I wasn't done with gloomy reflection.  The afternoon featured an email, in response to an inquiring one from me, from a gentlemen who cast me as a monster mom, vengeful and self-righteous.

I was stunned  by his anger -- directed at someone who was a relative stranger. Oh, he was very sure he knew me - and that I was dangerous.

I wonder if my friends, coworkers and even acquaintances would recognize the caricature he drew.

In what turned out to be an unwise bout of confession, I had mentioned some of the measures I'd taken when my daughter was in high school  and as she moved on to college (she had already been, let's say, flirting with danger).  On those he judged me, found me wanting, put me in the dock, and sentenced me.

He didn't know the context. He wasn't informed about the years of effort, strategy, support and encouragement.  I should not have shared so much without more of  a friendship -- my bad.

Online dialogue encourages a level of disclosure that not only encourages people to take liberties, but to assume that they know someone after a few discussions. And I'm sure that some of what I shared seemed totally outrageous to him.

Thankfully, I had just wrapped up a talk with a former professor who told me that, in my daughter's case, the actions I took might have saved her from much worse later on.  Thankfully also, I'm done with my email friend -- we're both better for it.

I can't deny his cutting, derogatory comments hurt.  They hurt badly. But think how much worse they would have been if we were in a relationship?  We were both spared.

But the afternoon wasn't over, yet.  Next came an angry, accusatory email from my daughter, telling me I'd spoiled her vacation plans with her boyfriend. The only problem? I hadn't had anything to do with her plans.

We figured it out -- it was her brother who was the villain, not her mom. Not this time. Apologies all around from West Chester.

It was one very tough day. In its undertow, I'm exhausted, discouraged and sad.

But hopefully, tomorrow will be a time of refreshment, enabling me to remember all of the blessings in my life -- and find a thicker skin to ward off that which isn't a blessing.

A little each day

"We don't crack up and fall apart.  Instead, our hearts break a little bit each day."

I can't recall if my mom or my dad used to say this.

Each of them would have had their own particular reasons.

I know what they meant, however.

I don't rage.  I don't throw things.  I've never been addicted to drugs, or alcohol, or even men who were bad for me.

Yet there are painful and important moments.

This has been a week of small heartbreaks.

A friend's careless and clear indifference as he takes off like a racehorse in pursuit of a new love.

Threads dropped without explanation as another pursues career dreams.

And other nascent seedlings, ripped up and cast aside.

I'm not an easy person to get to know, or to abide with.  In myself I harbor many contradictions -- a rigorous if random mind and a profound emotional sensitivity, passion for world affairs and deep introversion, faith and curiosity, doubt and its polar opposite.

Mostly, I require of my friends an honesty and straightforwardness that challenges all conventional norms.  Many (and I don't blame the many) can't abide that kind of deep sea diving in quest of insight.

Truth is, the murk at the bottom of our mind is as rife, if not more so, than the treasure.

In a few days, perhaps I will have forgotten the sundered relationships that impel me to grief.

They will be little more than pinpricks, reminders, cautions.

If I have learned anything, it is not to hold on too tight when someone else has let go.

But today, today is for mourning.