To Obey is to Hear

The parting of the Red Sea

o·bey
1. to comply with or follow the commands, restrictions, wishes, or instructions of:


Word Origin & History
late 13c., from O.Fr. obeir, from L. oboedire "obey, pay attention to, give ear," lit. "listen to," from ob "to" + audire "listen, hear" (see audience).


It’s been a while since I’ve written. I stopped believing that I knew anything at all. That the ‘revelations’ I had had were all well and good, but my ability to follow through on what I was preaching seemed all too limited. I figured if I couldn’t live what I believed, I sure as heck shouldn’t be putting it out there in writing to the world at large.

I turned to poetry. I turned inward. I stopped exposing my musings to an anonymous public. All the sudden it seemed too scary and I felt too vulnerable.

The thoughts I was putting down on virtual paper were not popular. They sounded crazy, even to me. Laughably antiquated. They seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

But there was one voice. And she said, “You were right.”  I shared with her how I gave up on the modest dressing -- my husband (who is not my legal husband) thought it was ridiculous, especially in 100 degree weather. I didn’t even try to explain to him. It just dawned on me that whatever revelations I may have about modest dress or any other feminine behavior are secondary to my spouse's will and desire.

And as I write this I am scarfing down an English muffin without tasting it. The bile in my stomach is too overwhelming. I am fresh off a fight with my significant other over something entirely insignificant, stupid even.

This is how it goes.

He tells me to do something.

I do it my way. Differently. Or not at all.

He explodes and sends me to hell.

I drive/march/walk/run off in a huff of righteous anger.

I cool down. I pick up food and head back to camp. He eats...or even better -- we have wild, savage make-up sex (you know the kind) while we pretend like nothing happened.

In the meantime I’ve screamed a thousand obscenities at him in my mind. I’ve killed him even. I’ve left him surely. I’ve found independence, recovered my “real” life, the one I used to have before I became dependent and useless.

I am like the Hebrews longing for Egypt after they’ve already come through the Red Sea.

If you’re unfamiliar with Bible stories, I’ll fill you in. The Hebrews lived 400 years of enslaved tyranny under the Egyptians. It took 10 plagues including the death of every firstborn to convince the Egyptians that maybe it was preferable that the Hebrews go along their merry way and they find some other peons to build their pyramids.

They let them go, regretted it, went after them and had them seemingly cornered with their armies and chariots with the Hebrew’s back up against an impassable sea.

Moses raised his arm and the waters spread.

The Egyptians followed and the seas rolled back into place while they enjoyed their last swim.

It should have been enough.

I don’t know the exact timeframe. And many would say it’s a legend anyway. Regardless, the lesson is as real as my mother.

As the story goes, on their way to the promised land the Hebrews got sick of manna from flippin’ HEAVEN and started to long for leeks and onions by the Nile river.

In other words, they were whining to go back to their lives as slaves.

Understandably, their G-d was P****D.

Well, I have lived under similar tyranny. Enslaved. Oppressed and downtrodden. I have been freed by the Grace of G-d and experienced true miracles first hand.

I have been called to do nothing but obey and follow the one true G-d.

And His representation here on earth is personified by the man in my life.

And all I can do is seethe. Rebel. Rail against his demanding, neurotic nature. The insanity and incoherence of his decisions.

I am free. I am cared for. Every day.

And the smallest things I am asked to do, I cannot do.

I am to follow without question and I do not.
I am to obey without question and I cannot.

My response to challenge, question, analyze, criticize, correct and defy is so strongly imprinted, I feel I am helpless against it.

All I can do is pray for Divine Intervention. And hope that you all -- you who hear, understand and sympathize -- will pray along with me.

To obey is to hear. Nothing more, nothing less. And I don’t know how to listen. Yet.

We are weak and He is strong

We can do it all, but should we?

It is not a secret that women are stronger than men.

We give birth and deal.

They get a cold and spend 3 days in bed.

I had the experience of having major surgery -- twice. I had two ectopic pregnancies and because I live in Mexico in an area where there is not a lot of quality medical care, I ended up with both fallopian tubes removed; something that would never happen in the states or in a larger city down here.

I was a working mother; a mother to my genetic son. A mother to my spouse at the time. A mother to his three children. And main breadwinner.

After both surgeries, I was up and working on the computer in the hallway in my hospital gown with my IV drip because someone had to pay the $3,000 usd I owed the gynecologist for having mutilated me.

The day after that I was making breakfast for everyone and practically back to business as usual.

A week later I was on stage singing in a concert.

We train people how to treat us. I trained everyone around me that I was a Superwoman. So, I had to fulfill that role no matter what. This was the message I received from my mother, who raised four children with no help from my dad working full-time as a nurse and going to school at night.

This was the message I received from the culture around me. Just check out this link if you need reinforcement for what I am saying: I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan...

The image of the optimal 80s woman was in a dark blue tailored suit with a baby perched on one hip and a briefcase clasped in the other hand.

We were told we could and should be able to do it all.

And I bought it -- hook, line and sinker.

I took feminism classes in college which only added to the weight of my responsibilities. I OWED it to the women who came before me -- who FOUGHT for my right to vote, to own property, to work, to choose -- to pursue a career.

And I was mandated to do this FIRST against what science shows is optimal for a woman physically and biology. Mothering was something that was to be put on the back burner and addressed later on -- only AFTER a certain professional level had been achieved.

So, it was take the pill, climb the corporate ladder and leave family for last; almost as an afterthought.

When I married and after almost two YEARS of trying I finally got pregnant, and the moment of truth came in which my belief system -- my socialization -- collided with the realities of the demands of being an 'attached' mother.

Because I also firmly believed that it was my G-d given duty to be the best mother I possibly could. I read all the books -- an entire library full -- when I was pregnant. I interviewed moms who attracted me, whose children seemed to have turned out healthy and sane children.

I discovered Mothering magazine and Dr. Sears and and Sheila Kitzinger.

I wanted to do everything right from home birth to slinging to sleeping with my baby to nursing and all the other natural behaviors that had been part of mothering before modern civilization intervened.

That did not include sticking my newborn in daycare at 6 weeks and going back to work, but rather finding a way to continue to make a living at home so I could be with him. That did not include formula feeding, but rather 'on demand' nursing even though my milk would soak through my tailored suit jackets when a meeting went long. That did not include a Crate and Barrel decorated nursery (which I couldn't afford anyway), but rather a spot next to me in our king size bed. When I think back on how amazing it was to sleep with him and wake up next to him, I get really emotional (he's 10 now ;-) And it did not include a hospital birth with interventions and crisis, in an environment that almost no one chooses to be in of their own volition; NO, I wanted to have my son at home. No drugs. No intervention. And I did.

And that day I was Superwoman.

But today I am obliged to admit that I wish I hadn't carried it past that day. I wish I had been able to choose to focus ONLY on my son and let him and myself be taken care of. I wish I had had a provider. I wish I hadn't had to do it all, which only led to resentments, fighting, me feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, taken advantage of, and ultimately, sick and tired.

We split up, my son's dad and I, when he was a year and a half.

It was doomed from the start, because I didn't know then what I know now.

And it's so simple.

Just because you CAN do something, doesn't mean you should.

Just because you can make a better living, doesn't mean you should usurp your husband's position as breadwinner.

1.) If I do "X", am I taking over what should be my husband's responsibility?
2.) If I do "X", am I going to feel resentment, now or in the future?
3.) If I do "X", am I taking away my spouse's personal power as a man?
4.) If I do "X", am I stepping outside my realm of nurturing and caring for my family?

All my life I have been Superwoman. All that changed one year ago when after a separation and a long sickness my business failed and I ended up broke and homeless.

I had been so vehement in my ability to care for myself that when in fact I needed someone to take care of me no one was there.

My drastically altered view of women's roles comes directly from this personal experience.

Let him open the door, for Crissakes. Let him pay the bill and the Bills. Let him support you financially while you create a warm, comforting home, care for the children, wash dishes, do laundry, clean floors, do the gardening, cook great meals, decorate for Christmas or Hannukah (carrying on whatever brand of traditions that are your custom), take kids to the doc, to school, to classes, to field trips, etc, etc. Give him a springboard so he can go out and conquer the world. Let him be your Knight in Shining Armor.

You, Ms. Reader, and I know how strong we are, what we are capable of doing -- even fighting in wars as did the women in Israel. But given the choice -- assuming we are not single mothers, or widowed, or in wartime fighting for our lives and our very existence -- we should choose to let our spouse be the warrior.

The more 'battles' he is allowed to fight, the more he establishes himself in his masculine role. The more powerful he feels, the happier and more content and in love with you and appreciative of you he will be.

And the more you feel cared for and protected and provided for, the happier you will be and as a result, so will your children, who are little emotional sponges that pick up through osmosis every dynamic demonstrated to them in the relationship between ma and pa. Every subtle, subconscious or conscious message.

from Wikipedia...
The Yin/Yang symbol is one of the oldest and best-known life symbols in the world, but few understand its full meaning. It represents one of the most fundamental and profound theories of ancient Taoist philosophy. At its heart are the two poles of existence, which are opposite but complementary. The light, white Yang moving up blends into the dark, black Yin moving down. Yin and Yang are dependent opposing forces that flow in a natural cycle, always seeking balance. Though they are opposing, they are not in opposition to one another. As part of the Tao, they are merely two aspects of a single reality. Each contains the seed of the other, which is why we see a black spot of Yin in the white Yang and vice versa. They do not merely replace each other but actually become each other through the constant flow of the universe.

Maybe that's why long-time married couples seem to be carbon copies of each other. After a lifetime of looking into each other's mirror and seeing their own image, after a while they can't tell if they are seeing the other or themselves.

I hope to get to old age with my current significant other. I will do what it takes to make that happen. And maybe what I don't do will make all the difference.

Faith in Him

FAITH

1. Confident belief in the truth, value, or trustworthiness of a person, idea, or thing.
2. Belief that does not rest on logical proof or material evidence. See Synonyms at belief, trust.
3. Loyalty to a person or thing; allegiance: keeping faith with one's supporters.
4. often Faith Christianity The theological virtue defined as secure belief in God and a trusting acceptance of God's will.

As I write for this blog, it becomes more and more apparent that the role of women is to embody, cling to and revive qualities that in modern society are not lauded or supported.

As I read this definition of faith, I feel how it can be applied in a relationship and make all the difference between one that lasts and one that crashes.

The man in our life needs our faith in him. When all ‘logical proof or material evidence’ seems to scream that he’s making mistakes or that things are going in the wrong direction or that his wild schemes will lead to no good end, we have the sacred duty to continue to believe in our spouse.

What happens when we lose or choose not to employ “confident belief in the truth, value, or trustworthiness” of our significant other -- well, what’s left? Where do we go from there?

Without faith in our spouse, we are left with a few options and as they play out, they don’t paint a pretty picture.

We can nag. Criticize. Point out all the faults and missteps. Manipulate. Try to get him to see it our way. All typical of the worst stereotypes of passive-aggressive behavior women utilize to move things in the direction they think is correct. Any of these imply we don’t trust him. Don’t believe in him. Don’t value his judgement, his choices, his leadership.

Most of us reading this come from Western society in which we venerate a system called ‘democracy’ in which all members of a society have an equal say in the decisions affecting the group. If we try to apply this system in a family relationship, it will bring about its destruction. I won’t try to extrapolate on a global level, since this is not the focus of this blog, but you can draw your own conclusions. To criticize democracy as a viable system in any context (except the military) is the highest level of blasphemy, but I’ve always been unabashedly sacrilegious. I believe in questioning everything, holding all belief systems to the highest standard of scientific analysis with a basic objective -- to identify if it works or if it does not. Again, working from my extensive personal trial and error and the observations of family, friends and the society around me, our current system of mating and creating families is inherently flawed, and I believe one of the root causes has to do with a lack of faith in the man as unquestioned leader and head of the household.

We are not supposed to question. We are not supposed to doubt. We are not supposed to offer our analysis unless specifically asked. We are to have faith. Unquestioned, unshakeable, blind faith.

Like we do in G-d.

As I write this, I am overwhelmed with how huge a task this is. How unpopular this belief is, even in Judeo-Christian society where the Torah and the Bible both identify men as the dominant leaders of families. Like we do in G-d.

Falls like a ton of bricks.

Yet this is the task we are charged with. To sit on our hands and to glue our lips shut with SuperGlue if necessary. And not be muttering and cursing under our breath. Because whether or not we voice our doubt it can be felt. So we are talking Herculean efforts to short-circuit any thought patterns that even resemble doubt before they take root, before their energy is manifested, before our spouse can get a whiff and feel the wind go straight out of his sails.

As alternatives to faith, after the whining and the manipulation afore mentioned, everything goes downhill from there.

When faith is lost, I and many women I know have grabbed the reins and taken over. We go out, get a job, become the heads of our household, calling the shots, demanding our rights, and demeaning our significant others. They become less. We prove that we are better providers than they. We prove we can do what they can’t. Which ultimately proves that they are worthless. Theat we don’t need them at all.

Next stop, everybody out.

: Separation, Divorce, Custody, Remarriage.

Start process over from the beginning, but with ex spouses and half, whole and step siblings. DC al CODA for you music fans out there.

Seen from this perspective maybe it would be easier to learn to be soldiers. Learn to follow. Learn to say “yes, sir” and keep our mouths shut, not speaking unless spoken to.

It may sound archaic, but once again referring to the example of the army -- a soldier would never question the decisions of his troop leader.

So, put yourself in boot camp.

Try faith. Try believing in that which may AT THE MOMENT have no material evidence. Try putting a sock in it. Try LOYALTY and ALLEGIANCE and all those things you promised at the altar.

The alternative is really not one.

The seed of faith you plant in your spouse will bear the sweetest fruit. This comparison also works well in this case -- you plant a seed and you KNOW if you water it, give it sun, tend to it -- it will GROW. This actually doesn’t require MUCH FAITH AT ALL!!!!

A man who perceives your unquestioned loyalty will ultimately lay the world at your feet. All you have to do is believe.