Multitudes

I've been in email banter with my ex recently, which is a blatant bad idea. That being said, I love email banter, and he is very good at it, so it's been enjoyable in that baby-pool depth that is banter sort of way. The other day he said I was inconsistent, and I agreed, saying that I found people who weren't inconsistent not only boring but liars (and aren't boring liars the worst kind? If someone is going to lie to me I'd much rather have it be a great story than something mundane and banal). But then I started to think about the comment about being inconsistent. I believe it was Walt Whitman that said, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.” which I have always loved and found to be true. Of course I contradict myself, of course I'm inconsistent, of course on some issues I stand firm and others I waiver sporadically. Of course I can beat you at a carbomb and then talk to you about the gospel; they are not mutually exclusive and neither am I. I contain multitudes; I am much. I think that's what being a dynamic person is about; part of being a true person is understanding the contradictions and inconsistencies that make up who they are and then being able to reconcile or apologize for them. I am not saying inconsistencies are reflections on the best of us; hardly, they often make clear the cracks and crumbles within. And I have many that require explanation and many more that require apology. I guess that is the burden that comes from containing a multitude.

Dis is Me

I'm thinking about disparity. That's it, that's the whole blog. Catch that pearl while it falls from my lips, kids. I write insight in fortune cookie sizes now. Ok, sarcasm aside. I remember years ago coming to the realization that there is vast difference between believing in one's ability to do things and the belief in who one is at their core. That it is possible to have great faith in what I can do, but very little value in who I am. Does that distinction make sense? I don't think I struggle with this today to the severity I have in previous years, but it is still a disparity I wish I didn't have. I'm frankly amazed how many women are afflicted with this—the ability to be extremely successful and seemingly brave and yet so fragile and frightened, with an insatiable need for affirmation or attention to give value to who they are. Some people put their whole worth into what they do and yet some do so much but don't realize they have value to place (and then there are the hypothetical healthy ones, who place worth in who they are and what they do is simply a reflection of a worth rooted elsewhere. We call these people “liars”). I think this whole month and a half job search thing has me doubting my ability to do anything; I don't know what I would do if I could do anything, how can I even have an inkling now? Any idea I have is vague and amorphous, a world seen without definition or reason. Without confidence in what I can do my worth bounces like it's in its own game of Breakout: from Christ, to friendships, to future, to faith, to crisis. I was tired of bouncing two weeks ago. But with each bounce the disparity between what is concrete and what is sand becomes clearer and for that I am thankful.

Another Mystery

I'm still thinking about the wonder conversation I had with Nate the other day.

My junior year of college I spent much of my spare time at a house three doors down that was home to four of my girlfriends. Holly was a duel Physics/Philosophy major who probably had a headache 90% of the time—I mean, I would if I was trying to reconcile those two. We were out on the front porch one evening and she expressed the desire to keep wonder alive in her life—that, in spite of pursuit of understanding and insight, a sense of mystery was crucial. I couldn't agree more.

I've never been accused of being intentionally ignorant and hope to keep that fact for years to come. I have a Bachelor of Science degree—technically, I am a scientist. But there are many things in life that I don't want to know the science behind and I don't think that makes me “ignorant” I think that makes me selective. Creative processes, music, emotions, faith, touch: beautiful things made more beautiful by their mystery. I don't know why one person's touch can affect me more than anyone else's, I just know it does and in that it is a gift. I don't know why heartache can be literal, I just know what how it feels. There are things made predictable and safe by science—electricity, weather, seasons, gravity, chemicals—and then there are the muddled interactions that cannot be made predictable, that science only knows in shadow and theory. Often these are what make up what I love most in life.

Don't get me wrong—I love science. If you know me at all, you know this. But science and mystery are mutually crucial. Nate told me I was just holding onto childhood; I told him he was a condescending, cynical bastard. I'm not saying we should only live by our gut (Thank you, Stephen Colbert/George W. Bush for “truthiness”) but some mix of the two. Understand the place of science and the place of mystery.

There is a part in “Good Will Hunting” where Robin Williams' character rips into Will, saying, “So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that." It's the difference right there; the science and the mystery. Places for both.

Song of the Day: “These Friends of Mine”--Rosie Thomas. I love this song more and more each day.

Also: Found someone to go see Erin McKeown's Grey Eagle show with me...guess who is also a huge Erin fan? Doug. Whoa. Here's to you, D.

Title IX

Way back in November my dear friend Emilie (unintentionally) began a discussion that kind of evolved into one on women in music. It started with a comment about being disappointed in what came out of the artists of Lilith Fair since the tour ended, and concluded on the status of women in music today.
(now pause that thought)
This evening I saw the headline that Mia Hamm and Julie Foudy had been elected into the US Soccer Hall of Fame in their first year of eligibility. Of course Hamm now holds the record for highest number of votes cast and highest winning percentage, of which she is completely deserving. Anyway, reading the highlights of their monumental careers suddenly got me thinking about that discussion about music months ago. And not just because Emilie is a kick ass athlete with tons of heart, skill and guts (I first accidentally wrote asslete. I almost left it). There was something special about that time.
In hindsight, the late 90s were a good time to be a young woman. We had role models in places where none were a few years prior. Role models make doors in sheer cement walls. I think about the rise of Lilith Fair, the famous Women's World Cup where Brandi Chastain ripped off her jersey after winning the shootout in front of 90,000 fans...hell, even the Ya-Ya Sisterhood came out in those same few years. We had the first woman to play NCAA Divison I football kick a field goal, for cryin' out loud. If that wasn't empowering...
And then there was Claire Danes! Who didn't want to be Claire Danes!?

What saddens me is that the wave of role models hasn't really been followed by anything else. Lilith lead to, what? The Spice Girls? Britney? Avril? Hells no. What do we have that could ever compare or continue? Truly the only musician with the appeal and chops to even consider such an endeavor would be Norah Jones, who just doesn't inspire an all-day concert tour event. Maybe some chai tea in a overstuffed chair, yes, but not outdoor pavilion music.

Will we ever have a female asslete (giggle) whose influence could ever touch the width and breadth of Mia Hamm's? Venus and Serena Williams have appeal, but not at all in the same way. They are too Hollywood. And they play tennis. La de friggin' da.

I want there to be women for my nieces and my little sister to see who prove that the world is possible. Not just because you show off your body, or are a whore, or because you are beautiful. Do ya'll know of anyone I'm missing here? Role Models of that caliber?