Apologies for the Cruel Rant

Dear ladies with whom I went to high school,

First of all, I want to say thank you for inviting me to be your Facebook Friend^TM. Over the last couple of years, it has been fun to catch up and see where you live, who you married, and what your adorable kids are up to. I genuinely don't mind all the kid pics. And I also get a kick out of trying to figure out who is friending me, since very few of you still go by your maiden names, and I haven't talked to you in fifteen years. Once we figure out who each other are, we can commence quietly gawking and never talking. If that was all our shallow, cordial acquaintance demanded, I'd be perfectly happy. After all, that's exactly how it worked in high school.

But I come to you today out of a sense of concern. Concern that you, my Friend^TM, have been duped. It would be one thing if our Friendship^TM was merely insincere. That's just par for the course. And it's not even political rants or shameless self-promotion that have my skin crawling. I dish those out myself, so I can't complain. Plus they make me feel like my Newsfeed^TM is a place of diversity and enlightened discourse (ha!). Nope, you folks still carry the torch of classic Midwestern charm. Good on ya. Though I sure would love to be a fly on the wall at one of your mommy groups...

Alas, I digress. The crux of the problem is this: It's usually not long after you have friended me and I've scrolled through your photos to assess the number, age, and names of your children that I begin to notice something fishy. Why does everyone I went to high school with work for the same company? Why is your cover photo an advertisement for facial cream with someone else's face? Why are the kid pics interspersed with painfully close-up before-and-after selfies? Why are---bam! "Sarah invited you to her event: Welcome to BeautyPro." Aha. I see.

BeautyPro, or its equivalent in the world of cosmetics, supplements, fad diets, or essential oils, is neither your hobby nor your real employer. It is your slavemaster. It is the reason you even bothered to track me down in the first place. Because the more unsuspecting twats you convince to come to your virtual beauty party - 'Special offer!' 'Free gift!' 'Buy a starter kit and get a free laser mole remover!' - the better chance you have of moving up in the BeautyPro caste system and paying off your massive debts. That's right - I know you are still in the debt phase because your job title doesn't say Premier Level V Executive Consultant like Jennifer's does. And Jennifer works for Leslie, who is everyone's idol and recently earned herself a company car!

The truth is, your company, my dear colleague, is a multi-level marketing (MLM) platform. Which is really just a code word for pyramid scheme. And before you protest, yes, I know there is a difference. Pure pyramid schemes are illegal in this country. In a pyramid company, the only way to earn money is to bring in new recruits, who must themselves bring in new recruits, and onward and onward ad infinitum. MLM, however, is legal, because it requires the sale of an actual product. I can actually buy a skin care starter kit and win an free laser mole remover without signing my name on the dotted line as a BeautyPro Junior Consultant. But let's be clear: selling eyeliner is not how Leslie got the car. Or the Tiffany's champagne glasses. Or the tickets to Maui. Or her name on the list of "Top Women 2 Watch in Retail Disruption 2017."

It's because of people like you. Because the same talents of persuasion that helped her rise to the top of the Mean Girls clique in high school have tricked you into drinking the KoolAid yet again. Leslie is at the top of the pyramid because and only because you and me are at the bottom. This is a zero-sum game. We cannot all win. It's just not set up that way. But thanks to the modern day marvel of social media, MLM has moved way beyond the Mary Kay pink Cadillac. You're not just reminded of Leslie's success when you go to her cosmetics party, or even when you pull up behind her at the gas station. You're reminded of it every. single. damn. day. It is subtly woven into every aspect of her online life - including, to my continual horror, posts about her children.

Why, my lacquered ladies, must you drag your kids into this? You say things like, "When I had my first baby Jack, I was such a clueless parent. I used to wash him in plain water!" Oh heavens! Not plain water! Or "BeautyPro's Organic Calming Diaper Rash Cream is made of non-nano zinc oxide, beeswax, organic shea butter, organic sunflower oil and organic jojoba seed oil. Where would my dear boys be without it?" They'd have a college savings fund, that's where! After seeing enough of these, it dawned on me that invoking your kids is part of the MLM model. They want you to show that you can work and be a full time mom at the same time. It's very third-wave feminist. Or should I say third tier? Wasn't that nice of them to pay for a professional family photo session when you signed up to be a seller? No, my dear, that was not a perk. That was because your Chief Executive Pimpster knows that happy heteronormative families and cute charismatic children SELL.

Don't get me wrong - not all the products are snake oil, and not all the perks are smoke and mirrors. I did stare for a really long time at the picture of Jennifer's lashes before and after 30 days of Infinity Lash 365 applications. Essential oils have real uses, and maybe your baby's butt really is happier when slathered with jojoba seed oil. Also, I work for an organization with "tropical" in the name, and they have yet to send me on a business trip to Maui. I'm glad you can stay home with your kids, and I'm glad you can make friends and feel useful. But I also know that what we see on social media is just one side of the story.

Not only are you not raking in the dough, you're taking the rest of us down with you. You're turning your kids into toddler peddlers and your doting Friends^TM into reluctant disciples. I'm just your average Liberal East Coast Elitist, so I know you're not going to listen to me, but I honestly think you are smarter than this. If you can pass AP Calculus, you can do the math on this one. 99.9% of MLM participants - and this is according to data from the companies themselves - lose money in the end. The odds are not in your favor. So spare me the invites, the free shipping, the inspirational videos, and the warnings that my shampoo will make me infertile. I will not buy in. I will not subscribe. I'll just be standing on the sidelines, watching in wonder as you work hard to make somebody else really really rich. 

Your lash game is on point though. Go Tigers!

Sincerely Yours,

Devon

PS - I am all in favor of purposeful projects and the independence that comes from a side income. I highly recommend Side Hustle School as a starting place to dream something up that is truly by and for you.

#RendTheHeavens Day 17: Conspire

The system is rigged. The process is tainted. It's a perversion of justice.

They are scheming, plotting, bullying, hatching, tweeting.

Everyone is against. Against immigrants, climate change, gays, Muslims, abortion, labor laws, women's rights, Black Lives Matter, Main Stream Media...voices, protests, humor, art, difference.

Unless you are for them. If you pledge allegiance, they will protect you. If you scratch their back, or your name is Vladimir, they'll scratch your back with a promise and a wink.

They are building. Building walls to keep out our neighbors. Building a cabinet to keep power at the top. Building buildings with the demagogue's name in all caps. Building up fear to keep out the truth.

They are conspiring to create a kingdom - one characterized more by shame than by shalom, more by judgement than by justice.

But here's the thing: we can play that game too.

Con-spire (v). From Latin, conspirare. Com- "together" + spirare "to breathe." To breathe together.

Collude, cooperate, connive, contrive, concoct, connect, construct, cook up, create, cry out.

And care. That is our superpower. 

Loving wastefully, like our lives depend on it. Because they do.

Will you come over for coffee? It's time to put our heads together. You, me, and anyone else who's afraid of what those who are afraid of them might be planning (while drinking scotch somewhere on a gilded sofa). It can be an Irish coffee.

The point is, we need to brainstorm. And even more importantly...all together now...

Take a deep breath in...deep breath out. 

Ready or not, here we come.



But you, beloved, build yourselves up on your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God; look forward to the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life.

-Jude 20-21

#RendTheHeavens Day 9: Violation

The earth lies polluted under its inhabitants; for they have transgressed laws, violated the statutes, broken the everlasting covenant.

-Isaiah 24:5

Today there was a hiccup in the violation.

Water protectors, Native Americans, allies, and everyday Americans stood their ground,

And the covenant held fast.

In an age of unceasing destruction, greed, loss of life,

This is a moment of grace.

This is the day the Lord has made.

Jacquelyn Martin / AP

#RendTheHeavens Day 5: Stained

The Sins of the Daughters of Zion

My people—children are their oppressors, and women rule over them. (Isaiah 3:12)

"I think putting a wife to work is a very dangerous thing." 

"Women in military: bad idea." 

“That’s why there are some unintended consequences of the women’s liberation movement. In fact, the women that would lead this country would be pro-family, they would have husbands, they would love their children. They wouldn’t be a bunch of dykes that came from the Seven Sisters schools up in New England." 

"For years we have gotten the message from the popular mouthpieces of culture that you can have it all: career, kids, and a two-car garage." 

"I fear my wife more than I fear voters." 

“I would never buy my wife any decent jewels or pictures. Why give her negotiable assets?” 

"And then there is the calculating woman who refuses to sign the prenuptial agreement because she is expecting to take advantage of the poor, unsuspecting sucker she’s got in her grasp." 

"You could see there was blood coming out of her eyes. Blood coming out of her wherever."

Because the daughters of Zion are haughty and walk with outstretched necks, glancing wantonly with their eyes, mincing along as they go, tinkling with their feet; the Lord will afflict with scabs the heads of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will lay bare their secret parts. (3:16-17)

"It doesn't really matter as long as you've got a young and beautiful piece of ass." 

"I’m going to get the bathing suits to be smaller and the heels to be higher." 

"You could have gotten her, right? You could have nailed her?" "I think I could have." 

"All of the women flirted with me - consciously or unconsciously." 

"When women see me, they’ll walk up, and they’ll flip their top, and they’ll flip their panties.” 

“If she weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her.” 

“It must be a pretty picture. You dropping to your knee." 

"You'd fuck her, wouldn't you? I'd fuck her. C'mon, wouldn't you?" 

"And when you're a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Whatever you want. Grab them by the pussy."

In that day the Lord will take away the finery of the anklets, the headbands, and the crescents; the pendants, the bracelets, and the scarfs; the headdresses, the armlets, the sashes, the perfume boxes, and the amulets; the signet rings and nose rings; the festal robes, the mantles, the cloaks, and the handbags; the garments of gauze, the linen garments, the turbans, and the veils. Instead of perfume, there will be a stench; and instead of a sash, a rope; and instead of well-set hair, baldness; and instead of a rich robe, a binding of sackcloth; instead of beauty, shame. (3:18-24)

“I really understand beauty. I mean I own a lot of different things. I do understand beauty, and she's not." 

"Look at her - she's a slob. She's a very unattractive person both inside and out." 

"This is the face of a dog!" 

"Sadly, she's no longer a 10." 

"She's a fat pig, with a fat ugly face." 

"I call her Miss Piggy - she's an eating machine." 

"Look at that face. Would anyone vote for that?" 

"She doesn't have the look. She doesn't have the stamina."

"And when she walked in front of me, believe me, I wasn't impressed." 

Seven women shall take hold of one man in that day, saying, “We will eat our own bread and wear our own clothes; just let us be called by your name; take away our disgrace.” (4:1)

"And they expect us to believe that her ingenuity and courage were enough to carry her to military success on an equal basis with her cloddish cohort." 

"I fully understand why her husband left her for a man - he made a good decision." 

"If she can't satisfy her husband, what makes her think she can satisfy America?" 

"There has to be some form of punishment." 

"I'm going to ram it down her fucking throat."

"You have to treat 'em like shit." 

Whoever is left in Zion and remains in Jerusalem will be called holy [...] once the Lord has washed away the filth of the daughters of Zion and cleansed the bloodstains of Jerusalem from its midst by a spirit of judgment and by a spirit of burning. (4:3-4)

"Did I say that? Excuse me."

#RendTheHeavens Day 4: Shut.Up.

And he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.

-Matthew 24:31

these days are full of angry noise

but today i felt it inside my body
head screaming

a pulsing crescendo as the day went on
and suddenly my gut was tumbling

then hovering, tenuously

toes over the edge

ready to leap

i walked it back slowly, and there was a respite

but now this creature inside me roars

so loud i can’t hear myself think
i have to stop

i accomplished nothing today
there was so much i wanted to do
but some days my body is not mine
it belongs to the Progesterone God

who i will now address directly:
if you are just the trumpeter

and you answer to someone higher

tell your boss, i hear ye
i’m all ears
just keep the lights out when you come
speak softly
and don’t put any pressure on my belly

thanks

p.s. looks like i’ll be wearing sweatpants for the apocalypse

#RendTheHeavens Day 3: Fr(act)ured

I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.

-Genesis 9:15

Today, the waters pour down. But it seems right for the world to be gray. Misery loves company, as the saying goes. The heavens weep as I have been, on and off, for weeks.

At least it's helping to put out the fires that are ravaging the Great Smoky Mountains, where, on this day eight years ago, I was closing in on the last 80 miles of my thru-hike. Frost nipped and famished, I felt like a member of the Fellowship of the Ring, trudging over hill and dale (and through many a gale) on a quest to save Middle Earth.

This earth, you see, is part of us, and we of her. We are knit of the same fabric. Our pain is one pain. We share this hurt.

And even on the days when no rainbow is visible, we must remember the covenant. We may have to get through Mordor to get there, but in time, the world will be made new.

Visitors, Please Take Notice

I had a migraine today, so my productivity was paralyzed and my achy brain made sleep impossible. I decided to go for a walk around the little pond by my house. It’s an urban park, with a very well-used 1.5 mile path that I’ve walked and run dozens of times. Something about my damaged head made this walk different though.

About ten minutes into my loop, I looked up at a park sign to see the words “Visitors Please Take Notice,” which topped a list of rules about not drinking alcohol, cleaning up after your dog, and refraining from ice skating. Instead of my usual response to such a list - “Humph! No fun allowed!” - I dwelt instead on the exhortation to take notice. Without really intending to, I opened my eyes. I started to observe what was around me rather than what was happening in my own head - something, as it turns out, that I rarely do.

The first thing I noticed was a tree with initials carved all up its trunk. I’m not generally a fan of the mutilation of nature, but what was neat in this case was that people had clearly climbed all the way to the top of this not-insignificant tree to leave their mark. It spoke of daring, rebellious spirits. It made me wonder if I’d ever walked by this tree before, too engrossed in myself to look up, while AKD or MEM worked quietly away in the branches above.

The people of the pond were fun to notice too. They were all different colors and all different ages. Some wore headphones, others were deep in conversation. I heard multiple accents and languages. There were serious athletes, casual exercisers, and folks who’d come straight from the office. There were lots of adorable dogs that I had to tell myself not to pet, and I ached for a pup of my own.

I felt the air on my skin - unseasonably cool for August, yet quite humid. People weren’t really sure how to dress for such an odd combination. The trees seemed confused, too: sycamores had begun dropping their leaves in droves, and here and there apples and ash had brown and yellow tips. Yet elsewhere summer still held on in deep greens and occasional blooms. Ducks waded in the shallows with heads tucked under wing. Were they sleeping? Or subtly grooming?

Fishermen sat meditative in hidden coves, one with a book folded open beside him on a log. One man had a female companion who sat watching him from a lawn chair, eating Pringles. The only woman I saw fishing was the mother of a family, Spanish speaking, all five of whom had lines in the water. They could have been at it for fun, for dinner, or both.

I almost stepped in horse dung, then goose dung - but most people seemed to be adhering to the edict to clean up after their dogs. I was stopped in my tracks at the halfway point of the loop by the sight of a giant bird silhouetted atop the single tree on a tiny island in the pond. Then I realized there were four of them, all very still, presiding so nobly over the scene that I felt immediately humbled. I think they were cormorants - the “ravens of the sea” - and it was clear that they too were in the business of noticing.

It was around this point - as a wet terrier scurried back to his owner with a big stick in his teeth - that I started to take notice of what was not present at the pond. For one thing, there was virtually no trash. I did see a single discarded Pepsi can and carried it to the nearest bin. And apart from the runners with headphones, there was no technology. When I took out my phone to thumb a few notes on my observances, I felt a pang of guilt. This, it seemed, was a sacred space. I suspect that it wasn’t even entirely intentional, but here, for one brief window of the hectic weekday, my fellow city dwellers had put their devices aside in favor of experiencing the natural world and interacting with live people. A little ounce of my hope in humanity was restored.

The sense that I was living in a micro urban utopia became almost comical when I passed a man sitting on a rock reading what looked like poetry. To top it off, I counted at least three visibly mixed-race couples, which was especially heartening when the country’s unresolved racial tensions were at the forefront of the recent news. Maybe their hand-holding and romantic picnicking shouldn’t have seemed that unique, but I was grateful for it all the same.

As I came to the end of my loop, I took stock: 

One bizarre-looking muscovy duck that reminded me of a cross between a goose and a chicken.  

Two white seagulls on a freshwater holiday.  

Three legitimate fanny packs. 

Only a distant echo of pain left in my head, and a strong conviction that I should go on walks like this more often.