nightmarish singing and intolerence

I'll preface this story by saying this: I didn't grow up religious. For many years, I've identified as an atheist. This doesn't say anything about how you feel about religion or a deity or anything on how I feel about how you feel about that stuff. I respect that people can make informed decisions on the topic, and if you happen to believe, you have every right to do so. I'm not going to persecute you for those beliefs, and I hope you'll offer me the same in return. For me, it's about living as a good person and being good to people and the world. Somedays, that can be more difficult than others. ;) Some people who know me also know that I dig Buddhism. I don't agree with a label of Buddhist for religious beliefs. I don't have any religious beliefs, and I believe Buddhism is a philosophy, one that resonates on some levels for me, but I honestly don't know enough about it overall.

That being said...

I woke up from a dream this morning, and I was convinced that, as I was screaming in the dream, I must have been screaming in real life. Unfortunately, Anne had already left for work, so no one was around to confirm that. It would be fair to say that I was screaming because the dream had become sort of a nightmare for me, but not in a scary way.

I was catapulted onto a Southwest flight to somewhere warm. Yes, catapulted. Roll with me here. The set up of the plane resembled some sort of dormitory sleeping room, which had open space and ten or so sets of bunk beds pushed up against the walls. I was laying on my bed, trying to get some quiet time and eventually some sleep before we got to our destination.

Unfortunately, what I can only guess must have been a church youth group or a college church group was nearby. And, they starting singing. And playing guitar. And playing the bongos. And singing... the same few lines over and over and over and over and...

I about lost my mind.

I jumped out of my bunk and screamed at them, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" over and over. I was practically pulling my hair out, I was so frustrated with their lack of concern for the rest of the people there. I was especially perturbed that they assumed it was okay, too, to share their religious music with us, that they just assumed everyone believed what they believed and would want to share in their joyful singing (or at least be okay with it).

I made a huge scene, and I couldn't even care. I couldn't stop yelling at them, and I haphazardly gathered up my things to find another place to sleep, in another room/compartment. None of the other passengers (who weren't with the group) said anything; they just stared. They just watched as I screamed at the singers about how rude they were by singing and by forcing their beliefs on everyone and how I wouldn't stand for it.

And I woke up with that feeling that I surely must have been screaming.

On Saturday, we had a particularly feisty group of 10-15 protestors at Planned Parenthood, so I elected to go outside and "escort." (And the weather warmed up to be simply beautiful while I was out there.) The protestors were singing (badly) the same 2 or 3 lines about Jesus over and over. At the time, it got to be funny to me, listening to them sing the same words over and over--so uncreative, so uninspiring. Apparently, some part of me felt a little bit differently, and I'm guessing that's partly where the dream came from.

some people annoy the shit out of me

After dealing with Bitchy Mom yesterday morning, I ducked out early to do my last weekday escorting shift at Planned Parenthood for the 40-Day Vigil the antis are putting on. It's...amazing, and that's really the best word. All over the country right now, hundreds of people are giving up parts of their days to pray at abortion clinics. They're do busy worrying about women going in and out of an abortion clinic to do anything in their own communities to help kids, low-income women, teens. That's one of the most frustrating things for me.

And then yesterday, we had another one of the things that frustrates me most when I escort: aggressive protesters. If you want to do your prayer line, fine. Whatever. I think it's a waste of time that doesn't do anything to prevent unwanted pregnancy. (You want to stop abortion? Do something to help prevent unwanted pregnancy!) We had two yesterday afternoon who were CHASING people who left the clinic. I had one couple who left, perhaps to get money, and when I opened the door for them, he said, "We'll be back." The two women in the prayer line watched them cross Division and then ran across themselves. And then, they stood there and talked to them. I'm not allowed to go far from my post, and since I was the only escort there with our security guard, I didn't feel comfortable leaving my post. It was painful--and a real struggle for me to know what to do--watching those middle-class, middle-aged white women with their rosaries chase down that working-class black couple and hold them in conversation. That couple never did come back. Our security guard was livid. He was so pissed that the man wasn't standing up for his woman, protecting her from the protesters, and while the gender assumptions bugged me, I actually had to agree. What she was going through was bad enough; the person with her needed to help her.

When they left, they stopped to talk to us. That's the worst for me because we're not allowed to talk to them at all. The tall one of the two aggressive women stood less than a foot away from me and proceeded to tell me all about Margaret Sanger and what a bad person she was and how she hated albinos (Hello! I'm a person with albinism, bitch! Person-first language!) and how I shouldn't want to support an organization that she supported because she hated me. The shorter of the two was all about messing with our security guard, telling him he had kind eyes and that she wished he brought his kindness elsewhere. She got on him, too, about Sanger and how she was a racist and the same stupid lines they tried to feed me. The tall one left saying, "God bless you," to me. I wish I'd thought to say back, "Why? I didn't sneeze."

It BUGS me to no end when people try and impose their views on me and other people. It's my decision to be there and much as it's theirs, and I'm not attacking them for it. I'm not attacking them for their religious beliefs. Nothing like escorting to remind you of people's black-and-white thinking and double standards.

An interesting thing's been happening, though. I listen to them do their rosaries, something I once did, and I hear my own voice in my head repeating the Hail Mary with them. And then, it becomes something else: The Prayer of St. Francis, a prayer of peace.

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

I hear it sung by Sarah McLachlan (a lovely version), and the fact it came to mind "randomly" seems an apt move by my subconscious. It reminds me to work through my anger and frustration and focus on doing good work. And, to keep working at not hating. It's a work-in-progress.

my mom made us this way

My brother and I grew up sitting in the living room with my mom, discussing anything and everything--especially if it was controversial--late into the night. The free exchange of ideas was a given in our household. Oftentimes, my mom wore a look that said, "I'm kind of appalled, but I'm listening." A lot of times, she changed her mind about things by the time we all went to bed.

In some ways, this exchange of ideas has continued into adulthood for my brother and me. I respect how much time he spends reading and thinking, even though I don't always agree with him and his opinions. He recently said something to me like, "I don't understand how you can let your personal feelings about an issue affect the way you think about the issue," the issue in question being smoking bans, which I agree with but he doesn't. (He's rather libertarian.)

He stopped over on Monday night to drop of a birthday present for , and he mentioned his currently getting his head wrapped around the idea of atheism being represented by the mathematical idea of the empty set. Not being a strong mathematician, he wanted to know what we thought about it (considering my girlfriend works with numbers for a living and I was always the one helping him with his math homework). Set theory was...a long time ago for both of us...and not very advanced, considering I didn't take calculus. (Hey, it was offered at the same time Hott!Teacher! taught psychology!) I decided to refresh myself on the basic idea of sets, and gave his proposition some thought. Here's what sense I can make of this and his idea:

• A set contains elements. A set can still be a set, even if it contains only one element.
  
• A set that contains no elements is called "the empty set." There is only one set that contains no elements, as it works with any other type of set because it doesn't matter what the elements are (numbers, types of animals, etc.)--the empty set contains no elements.
  
• The empty set is not the same as zero. Zero is an element, so if a set contains zero, it still contains an element. This is most useful in talking about numerical sets.
  
• In religion, you can look at a set of beliefs like you would look at a numerical set. In Christianity, there's a set of beliefs that includes elements like: "God is the creator" and "Jesus died on the cross."

It's pointless in this discussion to argue about whether or not atheism is a religion so that we can talk about "sets of beliefs of religions." The important thing is that religions do have sets of beliefs. (And, I'll note here that even if atheism does have a set of beliefs, it doesn't mean it's a religion. A square is a rectangle, but a rectangle is not necessarily a square.)

The question we're currently debating is whether or not atheism has a set of beliefs. My brother wrote: "i don't BELIEVE that there is no god... i just don't believe there is one. you see? its not a positive belief. there isn't anything else to it." I think he's operationally defining believing as affirming, and I'm arguing that a belief can negate, that you can believe the opposite. I think atheism is a set, a set of one belief: there is no god.

Anyway...this is what I'm thinking about. (And where's a mathematician when you need one!)