SynchroBlog: Trying to play along here......

Tomorrow's synchroblog-fest is supposed to be about alternate states of consciousness in regards to christianity. I have exactly zero comments on this. Which doesn't mean I won't have anything to say.....nay, my friends. I still aim to please, and will never pass up an opportunity to ramble away if I have a captive audience. Besides, my favorite form of altered consciousness is sleep. Don't laugh. I've read about christian mystics who could pray so well that it became meditative. I've never come close to that. I'm a creative type, so my mind is always working on my next creative endeavor, how to improve my current proto-type, or how I can creatively sneak in a nap this afternoon. Praying for a focused amount of time leads me to.....sleep. About the closest I've come to altering my consciousness is when I went to an 80's party as Cyndi Lauper. Please refer to the picture at the right.

I do have a story to share, though. It's a weird one, and explains why I don't have much to say on the topic at hand.

Several years ago I travelled with a bunch of gals from my then-church to Kansas City, home to all manner of hyper-spiritual hoopla for a (wait for it) women's conference. I was terrified. My homies were known as the 'intercessors', most of whom were members of the dance team, and it could be reasonably argued that many of them weren't attached to reality as we know it....er, at least how I knew it.

So I sat in the back of the van, keeping things light with my sensational, always ready, good-for-hiding-behind sense of humor. When we arrived at the hotel, I proceeded to run thru the halls between our rooms in my undies. You know, just to keep things light. Children tend to ground us in reality, so I took up the banner of resident 5 year old. Besides, I had to cover for the terror within....pulling into the church parking lot, I remember a distinct feeling of dread.

Into the massive sanctuary we filed. As worship began in earnest, I sat stock still and simply watched as women around me rolled around on the floor 'in labor'. Evidently God needed to 'birth' something in the spirit thru these women, and it needed to be acted out. Don't get me wrong, I'm a doula and about the least offendable person in the world when it comes to ACTUAL birthing. But this spiritual birthing just wigged me out. I searched out my cohorts for some familiarity, some reassurance that normalcy hadn't quite left the planet. Let's see, I remember seeing one of them kneeling on the floor with her silky dancing thingy over her head as she 'swooned' in the spirit. Reminded me of ET getting ready for his halloween jaunt. Then there was the wailing woman to my right, a dear friend, whom I had an overwhelming urge to shove, telling her we were not at the Western Wall, but right smack dab in the middle of America...no wailing required. Needless-to-say I felt very alone. I tried really hard to get my crying mechanism to work, just so I could feel the love. I felt like a cold engine revving and coughing and sputtering, finally giving up the ghost.

Back at the hotel, somehow or other we ended up in one of the rooms praying and singing. I watched 'ministry' be done to several women. I decided I didn't want any 'ministry' done to me....but there was no escape. Soon I found myself lying on the floor with one of my 'friends' pounding her hands on my stomach rhythmically chanting "break-o-pen-the-al-a-bas-ter-box". Maybe it's me, but wouldn't it have been easier to just pull me aside in the hallway later on and mention that she noticed I wasn't really using my gifting? You know, a simple "I want to encourage you to be bold and do your thing" kinda talk. That would've been really pleasant to my mind. *shrug*

Being a part of the heady days of the Vineyard, it's heyday so to speak, I watched a dizzy-ing amount of weirdness during ministry times. It all freaked me out. I really didn't want to play, but felt intensely that I was outside the circle. As a kid, I was the one who could never be put in a 'trance' at slumber parties (which doesn't necessarily mean I didn't try, or that I didn't pretend). I've never been 'slain in the spirit'. I am still tramatized by my youth group praying around me (ie: commanding me) to speak in tongues at a retreat until I uttered some gibberish just to absolve myself from being a heretic. I was taught to recognize the signs of demonization, (attempting on several occasions to go into an 'altered state of consciouness' just to plead with God that I wouldn't have to see any manifestations), and we were taught how to go into our past and bring Jesus there to speak to us about painful events. I desparately wanted to know Jesus, to please him....but it was all so, so........*sigh* weird. Those things left me uncomfortable, scared, feeling extremely vulnerable, and like a square peg once again (as if I didn't have enough of that in high school being the fat girl).

So I don't really know what to tell you about how alternate states of consciousness relate to christianity. I know I have friends who participate in this kinda thing. I know there are martyrs and mystics who managed it. But it's wierd to me. Something I don't experience. I don't doubt it's real, and I respect folk's ability and desire to go to those places. I just don't. And, honestly, I don't want to. Which is why I attend a safe, predictable Mennonite church these days. No contemporary, hip music.....but no hen-cackling and psuedo-laboring women either. As they say, pick your poison.

As before, many peeps have written much more coherent thoughts on this topic, so go check them out. And send them with my apologies for trying to play with the big boys! (And as before AGAIN, I can't get the dingdang links to work, so go to my friend Phil's blog for a list of participants)

http://squarenomore.blogspot.com/