We have a new Pope, the first in my memory. I was only 5 when we got the last one. I love the Catholic church, they have the most wonderful rituals. To pick the new pope, they cloister themselves. Every day, they debate in some secret fashion the picking of the new pope (although my understanding is that this pope came into the voting with the 50% of the votes needed after 15 days of debate, so it was really about whether he wanted the job or if he wanted to throw it to someone else) and at the end of the day, there is either black smoke from the chimney showing they haven't picked a new pope, or white smoke saying they have.
There was, apparently, some confusion for the people watching for the smoke, because the smoke on the first day of the voting the smoke was sort of light. And on the day they did choose, the smoke was sort of gray. Somehow, I find that sort of vagueness funny, and I'm not sure entirely why. Somehow, it seems to be a reflection of the emptiness of the ritual associated with choosing a pope. Perhaps it shows in metaphorical terms the new sophistication of catholics worldwide who have a better understanding of the political ramifications for choosing a pope, rather than a covenant with God.
This new guy is a real bastard. Apparently, he was, I kid you not, called "God's Rottweiller." He was the disciplinary arm of the Catholic church, the man who excommunicated for reasons never expressed in the bible as legitimate reasons for excommunication as a consequence for not cooperating with the ultra conservative veiws of the Pope. Meaning, priests who did not teach that homosexuals should burn in hell for all eternity weren't fit to be in the church. Ugly.
How did this guy end up as Pope? John Paul was a conservative guy, it's true. But the epithet "rottweiller" was never attached to him in any way. The theory is that this is a transitional Pope. He's 78 years old, and barely squeaked in under the wire of too old to be Pope. They anticipate he won't be Pope for long, and that that will lead into a more progressive Pope next time. I'm not sure I follow the logic, and I wish I could have it explained to me better. Is this wishful thinking??
The cardinals who elected the Pope are composed primarily of cardinals elected by John Paul. The theory is that they are all conservative types, so they, of course, elected a conservative Pope. Somehow, and this is where the logic breaks down for me, the theory is that this Pope won't be in office long, so the next Pope will be more progressive. How is that exactly? The new Pope is nearly a fascist in his beliefs, even more conservative than the last. As long as he's in office, he will be electing new cardinals who, presumably, will reflect his belief system. Thus, when he kicks over in a few years, the new board of cardinals will be just as conservative, if not more so, than they are at present. I don't get it.
I love the Catholic church. I have a fondness for it the same way I do many of my childhood memories. I am not attached to the church believing one thing or another, but there are a few aspects of the church I find galling. That homosexuality thing is a bummer. Honestly tho, that's not my biggest beef. What drives me absolutely nutty is the celibacy thing for the priests.
I had high hopes for a more progressive Pope, someone who would look at celibacy and realize the complete impracticality and the moral corruption it represents in the reality of how priests live now. Pope John Paul said, "some things are supposed to be hard." I really don't disagree with that logic. I respect devotion a great deal. I honor commitment and loyalty to anything a person considers worthy of that level of energy and respect. Fidelity to a person, and ideal or a spiritual path can be a beautiful thing. Does that level of devotion require celibacy? I know some people think so, but more importantly, some do not. That seems like it should be a personal choice, not a rules based decision.
Are priests celibate? It appears the answer is no. Yes, we've all heard about the business with the alter boys and whatnot, but on a more fundamental level, priests most certainly are having sex, and this is apparently well known. I another rather shocking blow to my feeling of sophistication, (I sometimes run into moments of cluelessness on my part that are sort of amusing) my grandfather supplied the answer to the mysterious question: If sex is natural, necessary and expected, then who are priests having sex with? The answer: their housekeepers.
The truth of that statement was felt in me immediately. I gasped, but it wasn't from disbelief, it was from how oblivious I had been about the completely obvious. He stated it so flatly, like *everyone* knew that, and it was completely *obvious*. From an 84 year old german Catholic, that was pretty mind blowing. He even had a favorite story about a priest in his town who had gotten transferred to California and how his housekeeper had packed up and gone with him. Then, the woman had a baby. No one talked about the source of that child. However, when the child (a girl) married, he presided over the ceremony. At the wedding, he gifted a house to the girl and her new husband. At that point, my grandfather says rather smugly, we knew for sure the child was his.
I hate this story, and I hate this habit. Priests are religious and spiritual leaders of their community, of their churches. They shouldn't be forced to live a life of lie. It's fundamentally rotten and it eats at the ethical core of the communities they are supposed to lead. It's not wrong to love, and it's not wrong to have sex. Humans are designed to do so, and sex can be a sacrament to the divinity. To deny men who are drawn to devotion to that divinity a basic mode of expression, their sexuality, is cruel and unreasonable. It sets them up for moral failure in a way that gives lie to their belief in a benevolent God. I loathe hypocricy, and this reeks of it.
It's common place and known that priest are, for all practical purposes, married to their housekeepers. It forces women, presumably good Catholic women, to live an unmarried life at best, and the life of a woman who has fallen from grace at worst. The priest is forced to allow this impression of his woman to be upheld. She doesn't get the rights, privilege and honor that befalls the helpmeet of a man of God, and that's not right. The church with its vow of necessary celibacy forces it's spiritual leaders to abandon their responsibilities to their life partner, and forces the woman to live a life of spiritual shame that goes against everything she's been taught and presumably believes in if she stayed in the church. It's disgraceful.
Now, with our transitional Pope, we have another decade of this, followed only with hopefulness that something will change at that point. A logic I just don't follow unless I'm missing a critical piece of information about how these things work. Pope Benedict, a name intimately tied with the history of an American traitor in my mind, somehow it seems to fit.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Anything for Love, but I Won't do That
I let my bratty little girl out to play last weekend. It was pretty fun. I got to go to an event where noone except the people I was with knew me. It was freeing and exciting. I like going places where I won't be met with preconceived notions of myself based on my reputation or what they've seen of how I play. (but yet to still be in communities where I identify) I got to meet people, and to form first impressions based on very little background information about myself. I find that to be a valuable reflection of how people generally take me. Reputations are funny little things. They can form realities in the minds of people you've never even met that take on form with little encouragement from the actual object of the reputation. That makes the reflections you get about yourself pretty suspect.
I discovered this reality when I got a regular job a couple years ago. Cradled in the bosom of a community where I'm known and generally understood even if I do/say dumbass things, it's a bit of a culture shock to go out into the real world and find out you are incoherent at best, and shockingly inappropriate at worst. Translation: My friends and community generally ignore obnoxious behavior on my part, but strangers do not. The regular world is peopled with much more closed minds than it appears I surround myself with.
Backside freshly stinging from the verbal spanking I'd perceived myself as having gotten the night before, I left town for a weekend of relaxation and ego licking. Somewhere along the line, I fell into brat mode. Being at the mercy of other people's schedule, the fact that other people were footing the bill for my trip, and a general feeling of petulence about my love life in general culminated in me spending the weekend as (described by someone else) "moody". Fortunately, I think this was said with tolerance and amusement more than annoyance. This came out as a general tendency towards smart ass remarks, inflammatory behavior, and minor foot stomping kinds of fits that involved saying things like "I don't want to eat there" with a *whine* and "I'm bored" in a sulky tone that would have gotten my mouth slapped if my mother was there.
It was when I walked by one of the people at the registration desk who was saying she wanted a sandwich for lunch, that I realized I was actually looking for my Daddy to smack me down. I was walking by and in my best Soup Nazi voice said, "no sandwich for YOU!" laughed and walked on. She called out, "What was that? I think you need to come sit on Daddy's lap so we can discuss this more." She was right, I really did need to sit on Daddy's lap and have a discussion about my bad behavior. I flipped up my skirt and wiggled my bottom at her, and got a laugh and an "exactly" comment from her, but then I bailed. She wasn't my Daddy and although the idea of taking comfort in the arms of a substitute was appealing, I wanted my Daddy and that was that.
I laid eyes on him that evening at the Ball. Tall, big (I like them big, so true) with shaggy red hair. I have a thing for redheads. He had on sunglasses and a leather policemans short sleeved shirt. Daddy substitute material?? I watched him from a distance and looked to see if I could get his attention. Eventually, I had a friend of mine who knew him call him over while we were hanging out on the outside patio. Ok, in reality, my friend said he was going to do it, and I figured the darkness would cover the 17 shades of red my face was turning at the prospect. My condition was further worsened by the conversation I'd had the night before on the VERY topic of male and female interactions, what was appropriate and what worked. Was I going to scare the shit out of this guy if I just said straight up, "Can I curl in your lap and call you Daddy, just for the weekend, since my Daddy doesn't love me anymore and I miss him something terrible?" I'm going to guess "yes" is the answer to that question. Ok, fair enough, plan B.
What, exactly, is plan B? Plan B is a combination of efforts, both traditional and honest. It helps to know his orientation... top, bottom, dominant, submissive are good starts. I had a pretty good idea from his dress and general bad boy demeanor that he was in the top realm at least some of the time, and that was all I needed. Then I was stumped. What if he's a switch? I'm a switch, and if he is too... how do you connect? It was the same question that came up from the interview that I had been mulling over... what happens if both people are playing the game? This advice is not gender specific, it can work either way. You take the approach that works, seduction isn't honest, and it has no ethical structure of its own except success. The key is how you figure out what game the other person is most comfortable playing. In normal vanilla situations, that's most commonly down gender lines. Not so in the fetish community. Switches make everything even that much harder, and I was getting a switch vibe from him. I'm flexible in my play. As long as the chemistry of power is in action, I don't much care which role I play.
I decided to base my approach on my goal. I didn't want to top him, which meant I had to make sure my approach was one where it set up a dynamic of his power. I started to warm to the task, and found the research I'd been doing recently coming in mighty handy. After spending some time catching his eye after that initial conversation outside, I approached to ask him a question about something that had come up in conversation before. He seemed interested in talking, and it was on. We chatted for a while, and I got a feel for him.
Maybe I could have done it, but in the end, I just didn't want to. He had the look, but not the vibe. Somehow I doubt anyone has the vibe fore me at this point. But it was good practice, and I'm glad I did it. It's nice to know I have a certain level of charm if I put my mind to it. Who knows, maybe next year.
I discovered this reality when I got a regular job a couple years ago. Cradled in the bosom of a community where I'm known and generally understood even if I do/say dumbass things, it's a bit of a culture shock to go out into the real world and find out you are incoherent at best, and shockingly inappropriate at worst. Translation: My friends and community generally ignore obnoxious behavior on my part, but strangers do not. The regular world is peopled with much more closed minds than it appears I surround myself with.
Backside freshly stinging from the verbal spanking I'd perceived myself as having gotten the night before, I left town for a weekend of relaxation and ego licking. Somewhere along the line, I fell into brat mode. Being at the mercy of other people's schedule, the fact that other people were footing the bill for my trip, and a general feeling of petulence about my love life in general culminated in me spending the weekend as (described by someone else) "moody". Fortunately, I think this was said with tolerance and amusement more than annoyance. This came out as a general tendency towards smart ass remarks, inflammatory behavior, and minor foot stomping kinds of fits that involved saying things like "I don't want to eat there" with a *whine* and "I'm bored" in a sulky tone that would have gotten my mouth slapped if my mother was there.
It was when I walked by one of the people at the registration desk who was saying she wanted a sandwich for lunch, that I realized I was actually looking for my Daddy to smack me down. I was walking by and in my best Soup Nazi voice said, "no sandwich for YOU!" laughed and walked on. She called out, "What was that? I think you need to come sit on Daddy's lap so we can discuss this more." She was right, I really did need to sit on Daddy's lap and have a discussion about my bad behavior. I flipped up my skirt and wiggled my bottom at her, and got a laugh and an "exactly" comment from her, but then I bailed. She wasn't my Daddy and although the idea of taking comfort in the arms of a substitute was appealing, I wanted my Daddy and that was that.
I laid eyes on him that evening at the Ball. Tall, big (I like them big, so true) with shaggy red hair. I have a thing for redheads. He had on sunglasses and a leather policemans short sleeved shirt. Daddy substitute material?? I watched him from a distance and looked to see if I could get his attention. Eventually, I had a friend of mine who knew him call him over while we were hanging out on the outside patio. Ok, in reality, my friend said he was going to do it, and I figured the darkness would cover the 17 shades of red my face was turning at the prospect. My condition was further worsened by the conversation I'd had the night before on the VERY topic of male and female interactions, what was appropriate and what worked. Was I going to scare the shit out of this guy if I just said straight up, "Can I curl in your lap and call you Daddy, just for the weekend, since my Daddy doesn't love me anymore and I miss him something terrible?" I'm going to guess "yes" is the answer to that question. Ok, fair enough, plan B.
What, exactly, is plan B? Plan B is a combination of efforts, both traditional and honest. It helps to know his orientation... top, bottom, dominant, submissive are good starts. I had a pretty good idea from his dress and general bad boy demeanor that he was in the top realm at least some of the time, and that was all I needed. Then I was stumped. What if he's a switch? I'm a switch, and if he is too... how do you connect? It was the same question that came up from the interview that I had been mulling over... what happens if both people are playing the game? This advice is not gender specific, it can work either way. You take the approach that works, seduction isn't honest, and it has no ethical structure of its own except success. The key is how you figure out what game the other person is most comfortable playing. In normal vanilla situations, that's most commonly down gender lines. Not so in the fetish community. Switches make everything even that much harder, and I was getting a switch vibe from him. I'm flexible in my play. As long as the chemistry of power is in action, I don't much care which role I play.
I decided to base my approach on my goal. I didn't want to top him, which meant I had to make sure my approach was one where it set up a dynamic of his power. I started to warm to the task, and found the research I'd been doing recently coming in mighty handy. After spending some time catching his eye after that initial conversation outside, I approached to ask him a question about something that had come up in conversation before. He seemed interested in talking, and it was on. We chatted for a while, and I got a feel for him.
Maybe I could have done it, but in the end, I just didn't want to. He had the look, but not the vibe. Somehow I doubt anyone has the vibe fore me at this point. But it was good practice, and I'm glad I did it. It's nice to know I have a certain level of charm if I put my mind to it. Who knows, maybe next year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
