Experience-y Things

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

---

Y’all. I have agreed to an 18 mile hike up and down a mountain to see a lake with my father. Lord help me. What on earth am I thinking? Wait, I know what I’m thinking. I’m thinking: oh, this is a terrific opportunity to bond with my dad and see the land and be out in nature. I’m not thinking: this is gonna be really, flippin’ hard. Well, to be fair, now that reality has set in that’s exactly what I’m thinking.

I try not to talk about my illness too much these days. There was a period of time where it took over my entire life, made me crazy, damaged my relationships, and became my identity. Then, after three years and a level of disability that still shocks me to think about, I was healed…but not totally. Enough to reclaim my relationships, my family, and to begin a new life in Montana. Enough to reframe my entire worldview and to lead me to Christ. Enough to make it through obstacles, temptations, and challenges…but not enough to be like I was, and I have to be fine with that. Even Christ still had wounds after His resurrection; so do I.

There remains physical struggle in my life which I regard as something that is teaching me to pray. I have pain in my joints which is sometimes debilitating. There is the terribleness in my belly diagnosed as endometriosis by the surgeon who removed my organs and excised the bleeding lesions. And man oh man is there fatigue. There’s more, but I carry through and I try to not complain about it too much anymore. Few people look at me like a sicky these days and I prefer to keep it that way. I crave no pity.

So I will walk up a mountain. Everything is a mountains these days, darlings, so how hard can it actually be? Christ grabbed me from death’s clutches and I’m fairly sure this will not be my end. Hopefully just yet another beginning.

The onset of strawberries :).

Before I start, let me first say that I do not consider myself to be “a conservative”. I have found that the dialectic of the American political system more so functions as a pseudoreligion and a tribal identity than a way of discerning which public policy matters pertain most to the benefit of one’s family and community. So personally, I opt out of that and into Orthodox Christianity. However, my previous experience from my B.C. time was fraught with liberal and leftist politics so that is where I tend to focus my analysis. The same problems occur “on the right”, but I don’t have experience there so I contain my thoughts to the American left.

Definitions are important, so I will start there. Progressivism is a primarily linguistic religious movement that serves to reframe commonly held societal beliefs into god-like concepts that provide the adherent with a sense of moral superiority (“being on the right side of history”) and creates a pretext for violent revolution. It dissolves the role of individual responsibility and agency and instead shifts the onus onto what it describes as vast social systems that maintain a conspiratorial hold over human civilization as well as a psychic control over individuals (capitalism, inherent bias, and so called “whiteness”). For example, injustice becomes “global white supremacy”, traditional male and female roles become “heteronormativity”, and one’s “lived experience” is somehow the arbiter of truth. The problem is that injustice is not always the fault of primarily white individuals/groups, traditional roles are not always oppressive, and one’s lived experience ends where another one begins.

Lingo is key in progressivism. One must know the verbal dance in order to effectively communicate inside the belief system. However, it’s also the key to undoing its knot. When I was in a progressive bubble, I almost never dealt with anyone who rejected the meanings of slogans with the intent of establishing a working definition between opposing viewpoints. I’ll give you a hypothetical example:

Me: a friend told me that she won’t visit me in Montana because she is black.

Progressive friend: well, that’s just her lived experience.

Me: the problem with that argument is that she doesn’t actually have any lived experience in Montana. She’s been told a narrative about the people here which does not align with what I have come to know about them. Perhaps, after many years of friendship, she simply is content to let us go our separate ways and does not wish to maintain our connection. While tragic, I can understand that the vast distance between us is a challenge. My lived experience is that there is actually less racism here than what we experienced as an interracial couple in DC and Baltimore. Sure it exists, but it isn’t blatant and in our faces. Everyone we have met here has been lovely.

Why is the movement religious? Well, dear reader, one simply has to look at the response to having beliefs challenged to determine the level of religiosity that has taken hold of progressives. Me: I reject the notion that the LGBT “community” is incapable of harm. Them: that’s bigotry!!! Me: I believe that each and every abortion is a preventable tragedy and that we should encourage young women to get married and to start families. Them: that’s misogyny, abortion is the lynchpin for equality in the labor force!!! Me: everyone has their own abhorrent opinions and no one should be automatically assumed to be evil because of their political affiliation or voting history. Them: YOU RIGHT WING EXTREMIST!!! Bigot, -phobic, extremist, far-whatever, has replaced heretic and apostate. Yet the religion is without God and without redemption so ultimately it leads only to misery and destruction. No utopia is actually being built, only the groundwork for violent revolution is being laid.

I will expound more on why I believe that progressivism ultimately serves violent revolution in a later musing, my friends. Forgive me because my tolerance for my own thoughts on this matter is somewhat limited and I wish to move on to writing about farming and gardening. I grieve for my friends and my loved ones still caught in the midst of all this. I pray that Christ liberates them as He liberated me.

Ma and Pa Kettle carrying chicken feed up the driveway.

“You’re a real farmer now,” my For-Reals-Farmer-Friend said to me on the phone. We were catching up about the lambing, the castrating, the banding of tails, and the losses. I told her that I was still in 100% but I found myself less delighted with new life than I was upon the birth of that first lamb. “I’ve learned a lot about life and death,” I recounted as I told her of a recent conversation with a progressive friend. “There’s just so much I cannot care about because I have so many creatures to keep alive. There’s sheep that sometimes just die. There’s lambs that sometimes won’t nurse. There’s chickens who have heart attacks suddenly as you are trimming their butt feathers. On top of that my ###### almost died and my ###### is struggling. So…I just can’t care much about politics, even the ones I agree with.” And with that I became a real farmer, I suppose. Committed. Less excited. Priorities focused on my animals and the land. Helping living beings to continue living. Glory to God.

---

Welp! I am disappointed to let y’all know that the freeloaders are officially freeloading once more (makes this face at the thought 😑). The chickens are hiding their eggs somewhere and the little ones won’t be laying for quite a while. I suppose that means I really do need to make concrete plans to build that chicken run. Sigh. And yet, I still really like them. Not love! But definitely like. Also! If we are fortunate, we might have llama babies in the next two weeks or so. Never a dull moment on the farm! The garden is now mostly planted due to the lateness and intensity of the Montana season(s). Our berry patches are about to expand to include honey berries and goose berries. I couldn’t be more excited.

Thank you so much for being here and for reading, my friends. I appreciate you dearly and I am still a bit gobsmacked that anyone would have an interest in my little musings. May God bless you all. If you would like to contribute to the feed and farm budgets to help support my writing, I would be eternally grateful. Thank you!!! ☦️🙏🏻❤️

buymeacoffee.com/mmjans