Mortality, age and luck

It's odd how random memories sometimes pop up for no apparent reason. Today I remembered an elderly neighbor that I used to go visit when I was 8 or 9 years old. It wasn't out of charity; I liked her. I don't think she was just indulging me either. She'd invite me in and we'd sit and talk for at least a couple hours every visit. I can't even remember what about. I just remember it was a mutual interchange that flowed effortlessly. I've rarely known conversations like that, even in my adult life.

I think we gave each other some mutual validation. I was a lost-in-the-crowd middle child, she an occupationless--and therefore invisible--widow.

The elderly are marginalized in our culture. We quarantine them in retirement communities and nursing homes. Our discomfort at being reminded of age, decay and our own inevitable demises makes us unwilling to associate with those who have gained wisdom through experience, to our own detriment. We get impatient when we're stuck behind old people in traffic. I don't they drive slow because they're bad drivers. I think they drive slow because they know--on a level that the young cannot--that few things in life warrant hurrying.

I was at the library a few months ago. The local senior center is in the same building. In the restroom, I heard two old women conversing in their stalls. "My friend Arlene just found out she has cancer in three different places. And she is the sweetest person you will ever meet." As though sweetness ought to be an inoculation against mortality. Later I watched all the senior citizens climbing into their van, stooped and straining at the effort of an activity that I take for granted. But instead of pitying them, I realized, If I am lucky, someday that will be me. If I am lucky, someday I will be old.


My friend from childhood is no doubt long since dead, and I can't remember her name.

Mortality, age and luck

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Follow the prophet, to the beat of your own drummer

I posted a little ditty over at Main Street Plaza about making up your own lyrics to Primary songs. Apparently, "Follow the Prophet" is a popular one to alter. Head on over and check out the comments. They're worth a smile.

Follow the prophet, to the beat of your own drummer

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Am I a Raging Religion-oholic?

This post was largely prompted by the following comments from Infidel753 on my recent letter to the local Episcopal bishop:

Please, please, at least consider the fact that a person who had recently overcome an addiction to hallucinogenic drugs would probably feel the same way after a while -- missing the emotional comfort of the delusions. The danger of this is all the greater when the delusion is something you were raised with from childhood.

There is no such thing as "deeper truth" and nothing can be true on one "level" while being false on another. A comforting or alluring lie is still a lie, and religion is a lie, whether you call it "spirituality" or whatever else... 

[T]he "interpretations" and "meanings" that religion generates are entirely false, malignant, and worthless. In that respect, it really is more like a consciousness-distorting drug. 

There are better ways of interpreting life and giving it meaning -- ways that don't involve religion. 

I don't know a great deal about Infidel. I know he's a bright guy with his own thoughtful and articulate blog, where I've been impressed with both the content and the writing. I know he's described himself as a New Atheist. Given that that's really all I know of him, there is plenty of room for my own projections and attributions here. I'm replying to the reaction that I had.

I hear three main themes:

1. I was deluded by and addicted to religion as a child and appear to be in danger of becoming so again.

2. There are cold, hard, measurable facts that are the only real truth in life.

3. The way Infidel has chosen to interpret life and give it meaning is better than all other ways.

What I find most striking is how similar the tone is to my mother's entreaties to return to the One True Church. I hear genuine concern at what may happen to me if I stray from the path of true godlessness.

Speaking broadly, I'm noticing other similarities between the strident atheists and religious fundamentalists. Let's look at some statements we frequently hear:

"How can anyone possibly lead any kind of fulfilling, happy life without believing in (God, religion, an afterlife, etc.)?"

"How can anyone behold the wonders of science and still believe in or care about (God, religion, an afterlife, etc.)?"

"You disagree with my viewpoint because you've been deceived by Satan whispering lies into your mind."

"You disagree with my viewpoint because you've been deceived by the brainwashing of religion."

"This is different from what I experience and the conclusions I've drawn; therefore it's a lie."

"This is all attributable to biochemical reactions in your brain; therefore it's not real/has no value."

I do not dispute that when I was growing up, I was taught--and believed--things that I now see are clearly not true. But to completely discount all religious experience and disvalue any religious practice strikes me as just as closed-minded as fundamentalism.

I adore poetry and have been reading Roger Housden's compilation For Lovers of God Everywhere: Poems of the Christian Mystics. I loved this sentence from the introduction: "Christian mystics down through the ages have largely acted on the margins of the church, because subjective experience doesn't count when there's a one-dogma-for-all policy to uphold." A discomfort with subjective experience appears to me as the major common denominator between strict secularists and religious fundamentalists. 

I want to address Infidel's assertion that there are better ways of interpreting life. I am not out to convert. I have no desire for anyone who is happy as an atheist--or as a Mormon, Buddhist, Pagan, Jew--to stop what they're doing. Religious experience is subjective, and as a subjective experience, it should have no bearing on public policy and should never be imposed on anyone who doesn't want it. 

I do see religion more along the lines of an art form. I'm going to make a lot of comparisons to music because that's the other art form that I know best. 


There is a science of sound within physics and scholars have developed a theory of music composition that is mathematical and logical and can be analyzed and explained. But there is another layer involved in hearing music that is beyond the limelight of verbal explanation and belongs solely to the realm of experience. No two people experience a piece of music the same way. Not everyone likes the same kinds of music. While I've never heard anyone say they outright hate all music, I can attest that some people seem to "need" music more than others.

I've written before that the reason I persist with religion despite my disbelief is because I haven't found anything in the secular world that "does it" for me the way religion does. My music history professor used to say that hearing music is a physical experience much like tasting food. Sometimes you can't explain why you have the reaction that you do to a certain food or a piece of music; you just do. So I've no doubt that Infidel has found better ways of interpreting life for him, but I believe the alarm that other people are interpreting things differently to be unwarranted.

I'm fully aware that some people do horrible things with religion. I've been the victim of religious abuse on a personal level and I've seen the damage on a global level, but I don't see that as justification for indiscriminately vilifying all religion. To me, that's like saying, "Some people drink irresponsibly with devastating results to themselves and innocent victims, so we should get rid of all alcohol." Never mind the research indicating the various health benefits of moderate alcohol consumption, or the research that practices like prayer or meditation enhance mental well-being. I've heard the argument that moderates lend credibility to fundamentalists and I was once of that opinion myself, but not anymore. Most fundamentalists that I know of think anyone with a nuanced view of religion is just as bad as a dirty atheist. Check out the second one-star review of Krista Tippett's book Speaking of Faith on Amazon, saying she should "focus on the one and only true faith - found in... the Bible, and ONLY in the Bible." 

As far as religion and spirituality all being a lie, I stand by my position that there's a difference between fact and truth. One of my favorite quotes from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade is, "Archaeology is the search for fact... not truth. If it's truth you're looking for, Dr. Tyree's philosophy class is right down the hall."

We need cold, hard facts. I love Emily Dickinson's poem "Faith is fine invention":

"Faith" is a fine invention

For gentlemen who see!

But Microscopes are prudent

In an Emergency!

If I have a tumor, send me a surgeon, not a soothsayer. But there are areas of my life, where cold, hard facts are not the right tools. I am a rational and thinking being, but I am also an emotional and feeling being. Science tells me that my emotions are caused by biochemical reactions, but that doesn't help me navigate my emotional life the way a good story or ritual does. 

There are mysteries surrounding our existence here. Science has indeed shed tremendous light on many of these mysteries, as I'm sure it will continue to do, and I welcome those answers. But I personally am not a scientist. I don't have time to run every issue in my life through the scientific method, and I will be dead before science can come up with answers to my most pressing questions about day to day living: love, compassion, anger, hatred, forgiveness. Happiness. So in the meantime, I don't consider it a copout to turn to the heuristics of story and ritual. 

To say that science is better than religion is like saying chemistry is better than anthropology. They are two equally valuable but non-overlapping fields that serve completely different purposes.

Christianity is the religion I'm predominantly engaging with right now. How much do I "believe" in it?

Do I believe Jesus was born of a virgin? No.

Do I believe he rose from the dead? No.

Do I believe I or anyone else will be denied a place in heaven for not accepting him as savior? No. I don't believe in an afterlife at all actually.

Do I believe the New Testament is an accurate account of the life of Jesus? You know, I haven't really delved into the scholarship behind evidence for the authenticity of the Bible, and it's really not all that important to me. Whatever the facts were surrounding a historical Jesus, the Christian story that we have today has survived through the ages because it resonates with the human condition.


I listened to Elizabeth Alexander's interview on Being the other day. She's a poet and is sometimes asked of her poems that are written in first person whether those poems are true. She said, "The truth of a poem is actually much deeper than whether or not something really happened. What matters is an undergirding truth that I think is the power of poetry."

When I approach a religious ritual with the recognition that I'm not actually creating any magic, or a religious story as just that, a story, how does that make me deluded? Religious traditions have cultivated some fine tools for the art of living, and I intend to use them.

Let's take Lent, since it's that time of year. I don't know of anything like it in the secular world. We start with a potent ritual reminder of our mortality on Ash Wednesday, then an invitation to set aside for a time some of the more trivial pleasures or distractions of life to make space for something more meaningful. (Last year, atheist Sabio Lantz wrote about observing Lent "to taste life more fully and more intentionally," which I thought was really beautiful.) Then comes Easter, a celebration of new life, new beginnings, a way to be redeemed from the darker side of our human nature, and I love it, not because I have to please some god who's keeping tabs on me, but because I want to be a better person, and taken symbolically, the story of Christ conquering death is a roadmap of how to do it that works for me.

As far as these "hits" of religious ecstasy that I'm supposedly addicted to, that's a problem because... ? I'm a runner, and I can tell you those endorphins feel incredible. I've never had anyone tell me that's a bad reason to go running. Does everyone who tries running love it? Nope. Is running even good for everyone? No. Some people have a foot shape or other physical structures that can make them injury prone if they run. Do I think I'm a superior human being because I can run? No. I run because it's about the only physical activity for which I have sufficient coordination. I love dance, think it's beautiful, wish I could do it, but I will never be a dancer because the mind-muscle coordination required is completely opaque and mysterious to me.

I'll be honest, church is not an exciting, numinous experience every week. A lot of times, I'm only going because I like the people and I like singing in the choir. I don't love running every time I go either, but I know I feel better throughout the day and sleep better at night on days that I run, so I try to do it consistently even when I don't feel like it. Religion does for my psyche what running does for my body. It's a mental and emotional tune up that seems to make the rest of my life run more smoothly.

I really think spirituality is a temperament, and what or whether a person believes has very little to do with it. Like an ear for music, or an ability to dance, either you have it or you don't. With training and practice, it can be developed some, but there's no denying that some people are naturally more inclined to it than others. And just like we can't all be singers or dancers, I don't think everyone should or needs to be spiritual or religious.

My mother attributes my renouncing her religion to my having been deceived by the ways of the world, or because I'm just being stubborn and don't want to face up to what deep down I must know to be true. I attribute my disagreement to thinking for myself, drawing conclusions from my own experience and observations. I've "left" New Atheism for the same reasons. I tried it for a while and decided, You know what? This isn't really working for me. This is not how I want to live my life. This is not who I am.

If strident atheism and religious fundamentalism were the only two options, you bet I would choose atheism, but those are only the two extreme ends of a very wide spectrum. For me, the stuff in the middle is where it really gets interesting, and that's what I'm aiming for.

Do you have to respect my point of view? No, but I would ask that you respect me, and I find comparing my desire to continue practicing religion to a drug addiction to be incredibly disrespectful.

Continuing with my music analogy, a child raised in a musical family is more likely to be a musical adult. I was indeed raised in a very religious environment, and I'm sure this has something to do with my continued attraction to religion, but it's not because I'm still struggling with some residual brainwashing. On the contrary, I grew up with black and white, all or nothing thinking; cut and dry, unquestionable answers.

And I'm tired of it.

Am I a Raging Religion-oholic?

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Updating blogrolls

I rearranged my blogrolls a bit. If you'd rather have your blog in a category other than the one where I have you, let me know.

Also, I've missed a lot of what's happened online the last several months, so especially if you're a newer blogger, don't be shy about leaving a comment or sending a message if you'd like to be added to my blogroll.

Updating blogrolls

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Facelift, and an etymological pondering

After six months of borrowing WiFi from libraries, coffee shops, and hotel parking lots, I have rejoined the 21st century and gotten internet at home. I enjoyed the break but it's good to be back!

I spent most of the day changing things up around the ol' blog. Still some tweaking to do, but whadya think?

Yesterday morning I was thinking about what it means to me to be spiritual. The word "spirit" shares a root with "inspire," one meaning of which is to draw in breath, to breathe. Breathing is what sustains life. One can go quite a while without food, water or sunlight, but if breathing stops, life stops soon afterward. Consciously minding and regulating the breath is at the heart of the practice of yoga, and the starting point for learning meditation. The attention to the breath that I had to learn to study singing has been an essential part of my journey.

In a way, my striving to be spiritual is an endeavor to breathe, to infuse my life with more life, to draw in that which will sustain me and the release that which would deplete me.

Facelift, and an etymological pondering

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I wrote a letter to the bishop

No, not the Mormon bishop. I’ve been attending an Episcopal church for the last several months. The congregation there is in a time of transition. There have been some changes in staff and clergy and discussion about the future. Meetings were held, inviting feedback from parishioners on the direction they should take and how they might reach out to more people in the community. Music was a forefront topic of disagreement between those who prefer a traditional service and those who prefer something more contemporary. I decided to share my perspective with the bishop there and wrote him a letter in December:

Dear Bishop,

I am relatively new here. I have attended both town hall meetings regarding the future of the cathedral and would like to share some of my thoughts about why I attend services here. 

I recall at the first town hall meeting you mentioned wanting to know what it meant when people call themselves spiritual but not religious. A gentleman sitting near me somewhat scoffingly said, “It doesn’t mean anything.” While I can’t speak for all who define themselves this way, my own perspective is that I am part of a growing number of people who are longing for a dimension of the divine and sacred in our lives, but are turned off by organized religion because our experience with it has been authoritarian and dogmatic.

I was raised as a Mormon. I grew up in a tiny town on the Arizona Strip. I am the sixth of eleven children. My parents now live in Utah and are still very devout, believing and practicing Mormons. I have been through some incredibly destructive experiences in the name of religion, at the hands of an organization that I loved and had devoted my life to, and that I sincerely believed spoke for God. After hurt, betrayal, anger, then a brief return to Mormonism that made it clear to me that the LDS Church was not the One True Church that it claims to be, I decided I no longer wanted to be Mormon, and I left for good five years ago. 

But I never wanted to give up religion altogether, only to find a way to be religious that I felt authentically matched my heart, and that didn’t crush my spirit.

I grew up in a tradition that claimed to be the absolute truth, where belief is paramount to all else, and intellectual dissent can be grounds for excommunication. After I left I attended various Protestant churches and read C.S. Lewis. I read books about the sacred feminine and about Eastern traditions, but none of it felt quite right. Every tradition that I dabbled in had good things to offer, but none were anything that I could believe in fully the way I wanted to. 

I came across The God Delusion about a year and a half ago and found myself nodding along as Dawkins delineated so many conclusions that I had already come to on my own. I decided that more than likely, God and religion were both inventions of humankind, and if they weren’t “real,” what was their value? Furthermore, I could see the damage done by misguided beliefs in the world at large and in my own life. I have been an honest atheist. I have been anti-religious, and I believe it was helpful for me to allow myself to be angry about all the ways my past experiences with religion have harmed me, but after a few months, I was bored with that. I missed mystery. I missed experiences of sacredness and holiness that I knew I’d had, and my conclusion that these experiences probably had some tidy scientific explanation didn’t diminish my longing for them. I missed striving to be a better person that had been part of my practice of religion. Atheism made perfect logical sense, but it lacked the emotional map for my life that I was craving and I couldn’t find a secular equivalent that filled that void.

But I was skeptical about finding a religious community where I could belong, and I don’t mean socially. I’m quite introverted and am not one to fret much if no one says hi to me. I was worried about finding a place where my beliefs--and lack thereof--wouldn’t be threatened or threatening. I had a friend who said, “Try the Episcopalians.” So I’ve been coming. To be completely honest, I am still incredibly skeptical about how factual the claims of Christianity are, but I don’t think something necessarily has to be factual to be true, if that makes sense, and I perceive deeper truths in the teachings of Christianity. Perhaps I shouldn’t take communion, though I’ve been baptized twice and I love the teachings of Jesus, because I don’t think I’m all that Christian in my personal beliefs (I’m not really comfortable saying the Nicene Creed, for example). But with all my heart I love Christ as a figure of love, peace, healing and hope, and my soul responds to the symbolism of taking His body into mine, of an old self being washed clean in His blood and a new self that is more like Him being born. How beautiful to participate in that ritual of death and renewal every week.

The second town hall meeting was somewhat heated and some might look on that as a bad thing. I personally was thrilled to see a community where you can even have conversations like that. Where I came from, everything was decided by the (all male) priesthood, and their word was final. It came down out of Salt Lake City what music was allowed in church services, which instruments were appropriate for worship. I can tell you for certain, you would never see the likes of a guitar or a tambourine in a Mormon service. There was one Right Way, not just for music, but for just about every detail imaginable, and if you didn’t like it, it meant you were rebelling against God and needed to be more humble. 

I don’t know if you Episcopalians realize how good you have it to belong to a community where you are allowed to disagree and think for yourself, and where your personal life stays personal.

I completely understand and sympathize with the position of atheism. I don’t want anyone thinking I believe in the God I believed in as a child, but I’m not sure I can honestly define myself as an atheist anymore. I’m not sure who or what I think God might be, and I’m not convinced that any God exists outside the human imagination, but if my goal is to change myself, I think that’s the perfect place to engage with Divinity. My views on religion now are that it’s less about believing and more about doing. There is plenty in the music and liturgy at the cathedral for a seeking heart and mind to latch onto, to unearth the deeper truths that can change a person from within. I am not in a place where I want to officially join a church, but there is a peaceful and loving spirit at the cathedral that is good for my soul to be a part of, and so I come. I am grateful to have found the cathedral, and I pray that the doors stay open.

Sincerely,

Leah Elliott

The bishop’s reply was kind. He called my letter a blessing and said he thought God was working in my life. Well, maybe, maybe not, but I thought it was refreshing that he didn’t tell me that my doubt was the influence of Satan and I needed to pray it away. I gave him permission to share the letter with board members or others that might find it helpful. Several of them have thanked me for sharing my views. No one has treated me like a scourge for not believing as they do.

Some of this is hard to share on my blog, since I started this blog as a staunch atheist, but I don’t know how to not be honest. I’ve tried to respect other people’s right to define themselves by whatever labels feel right for them, and not to tell any self-defining agnostics that they’re really atheists, or vice versa. I know plenty of atheists who consider themselves spiritual people, but the label “atheist” doesn’t feel authentic for me anymore. I’m not sure “agnostic” is right either. Perhaps “non-literal theist”? All I know is that I feel things when I engage in religious practice, things that I’m sure are psychologically and scientifically explainable, but things that also make me feel more like myself.

I like the path that I’m on, and I’m looking forward to watching this story unfold.

I wrote a letter to the bishop

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I should get online more often

Main Street Plaza is running their annual Brodie Awards for excellence ex-Mormon blogging. I discovered just today that I've been nominated in the Most Poignant Personal Story category for my three-part series about my grandmother's passing.

There are dozens of fantastic nominations this year. I hope you'll all head over to Main Street Plaza check them out and vote!

I should get online more often

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Book Review: Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know,--And Doesn't

Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know--And Doesn't (2007) by Stephen Prothero, wasn’t quite what I expected, but still a worthwhile read. From the title, I thought it would be a broad overview of the world religions, with a chapter on Christianity, a chapter on Islam, a chapter on Hinduism, etc. What it turned out to be was a compelling argument for returning religious education to our school’s curriculum. (In Prothero's suggested Further Reading list, he recommends Huston Smith’s The World's Religions as a broad overview text, so that’s now on my to-read list.)

Prothero starts by pointing out the irony that Americans are both extremely religious, and extremely religiously ignorant. “(H)ere faith is almost entirely devoid of content,” meaning the majority of religious people in our country don’t even know what it is they supposedly believe. He emphasizes the difference between teaching religion, which is unconstitutional in public schools, and teaching about religion, which the Supreme Court has all but begged to have happen. 

Prothero is a professor of religious studies at Boston University and explains that the difference between theology and religious studies is like the difference between art and art history; theologians do religion while religious scholars study religion. He goes on to say, “My purpose is not to foster faith or to denigrate it... My goal is to help citizens participate fully in social, political, and economic life in a nation and a world where religion counts.” Just because someone else’s religion (or religion in general) doesn’t matter to you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. While religion should stay in the private sphere, the fact is that it doesn’t, and even though academia may be becoming more godless, the voting and purchasing population as a whole is not. Religion is a potent social force, and it’s important to be informed.

I felt he spent a little too much time harping on how much Americans don’t know and was impatient for him to get to the real content of the book, which I thought was going to be to distill religious literacy. What I got instead was a history of religious education in the United States, from the Puritans to the Second Great Awakening to the Scopes trials to where we are today. 

In the past, religious knowledge was passed from one generation to the next through a chain of memory. People grew up being educated at the very least about the religion of their parents. Since Vatican II, Catholics no longer memorize the Baltimore Catechism and other faiths are doing much less to foster religious education. Sermons and Sunday School classes are more about feeling good and being nice than teaching doctrine. What was interesting to me about this was that Mormons are actually pretty good about keeping this chain of memory in tact. Families and individuals in the Church are supposed to read scriptures daily. Their Sunday Schools have a standardized curriculum and Mormon high school students go to seminary daily and then Institute in college. Most Mormons that I’ve known have a pretty good understanding of what their religion teaches.

Doctrine became less important in most religions as heart supplanted mind. Sects relinquished their distinguishing features to fight against common enemies (e.g. atheist communists). These days, Christians are divided less by individual sects than by liberals and conservatives, and fundamentalists are one of the few groups who actually care about doctrine anymore. As for other religions, Prothero says, “Most Americans in short remain far more committed to respecting other religions than to learning about them,” which he points out is empty: How can you really claim to respect something you don’t even understand?

Even though almost every major conflict in history has been at least partially religiously based, most history books are written as though religion doesn’t exist. After the Supreme Court banned prayer and devotional Bible reading in school, instead of moving to teaching about religion, we now teach around religion. Schools are afraid to touch the subject, which is understandable. Almost anything you say about religion is bound to upset somebody, no matter how fair and objective you try to be. But Prothero argues that acting as though religion doesn’t exist is hardly remaining neutral, and I think I would agree. Refusing to talk about religion feeds religious conservatives’ suspicions that our public schools have a secular agenda.

Key to the solution he proposes is training teachers who can competently teach about religion and who know the difference between educating and proselytizing. He would also like to see a course on the Bible and a course on the major world religions be part of the required curriculum for high school graduation. Skeptical as I am about getting the general population on board, these are changes I would love to see implemented. After reading his book, educating my own children about religion is certainly a few notches higher on my priority list.

The last chapter was a Dictionary of Religious Literacy, 83 pages of key terms Americans should be familiar with “to make sense of their country and their world.” It’s in alphabetical order, so that “Dalai Lama” and “David and Goliath” appear next to each other instead of in the context of the traditions to which they belong. I found some of it a bit confusing to just read through without further background knowledge, but it’s helpful for looking up terms that come up in the media but aren’t always clearly defined, like “Moral Majority” or “imam.” I got the book from the library, but am considering buying it to have the Dictionary as a reference.

My only real complaint is that I found the title misleading. Change it to something like Religious Literacy: How Americans Came to Be Religiously Ignorant--And Why That’s Bad.  Other than that, good book.  :-)

Book Review: Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know,--And Doesn't

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Shameless Nepotism

My brother has an art blog. It features his whimsical, highly imaginative and surprising doodlies. And since I think his stuff is awesome, I hope you will all check it out:  Will 5:00 Never Come?

Shameless Nepotism

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On leaving the Poultry Yard

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about The Ugly Duckling and how I still struggle to see myself as a swan. Infidel753 suggested that perhaps part of the problem is that I haven't really left the poultry yard. That really struck me.

Even before I considered splitting from my husband, staying in Fargo for good was never part of the plan. So leaving is not a question of if, just when/where/how. It's not a bad place, but my major complaints are that it's too small, too flat and way too damn cold.

Winter alone would be sufficient reason for moving, but I'm noticing more and more a predominant small-town mentality here. Even though Fargo itself isn't that small, it's largely populated with people who moved from rural areas. Some of them are lovely, but many of them are not anyone I'd care to associate with. Call me a snob if you will, but they remind me too much of the non-summer-book-readers of yesteryear. I've been going to school, so most of my associations have been in academia. Now that I'm done, I've been venturing out into the broader community here and have discovered that the university environment is much more urbane than most of the rest of the town.

I went to a bar a few months ago, trying to get out of my comfort zone and be social (second time in my life I'd ever been to a bar, by the way). Music was awful. No one was dancing. A Rick Astley song came on and I was just about to leave when a guy invited me to hang out with him and his buddies. Yeah, sure, why the hell not? They were alright, nice people, but not really anything in common to talk about. I gave one of them a ride to a different bar later that night. My car radio is almost always tuned to Classical Minnesota Public Radio (I don't have anything against popular music; there just don't happen to be any stations in Fargo that play the good kind). So we get in the car and the radio comes on and he asks, "What's that?" "NPR," I say. "What's NPR?" Seriously? So we get to the bar where he wants to go next and as he's getting out of the car he asks for my number. "Oh, no, I'm just not ready to date right now," I say, when what I'm really thinking is, Buddy, you seem like a nice guy, but if you haven't heard of NPR, you don't get my phone number!

So, yeah, not planning to set down roots here, but moving is complicated. I'm still unemployed. My children's father lives here and he's a good father. I don't want to take the kids away from him. He's said that he doesn't want to live here forever either, but neither of us yet has concrete plans for when or where to move. I miss mountains and I would love to live near the ocean, and more diverse (and educated) neighbors would be nice. I think I'd fit well in either the Northwest of the Northeast. Winter hit hard and fast this year, motivating me to think harder about when and where to go.

It's hard to beat Fargo for cost of living. I've made some good friends here. There are nice things about this place, but I'm feeling more acutely that this is not where I belong.

On leaving the Poultry Yard

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