I too grew up in religious home. My mother grew up in a fundamentalist Southern Baptist family. While in college in the early 1950’s her future husband impregnated her. In a culture of shame, she was shunned by both her family, and her church. My parents got a shotgun wedding and moved away. The child she was carrying died in childbirth. My mother took this as a punishment from God. In the six year period between this event and my birth she had two miscarriages; again she saw this as God’s punishment for her transgressions. She began bartering with God, “If I can have a live birth, I will dedicate his life to you.” Lucky me! Mother Dearest, did a damn good job of trying to keep her promise to God. As the Second Scion, I was allowed to have no “sin”. She constantly criticized and punished me for the normal behaviors of childhood. In her attempt to be the Virgin Mary, she brought me up using an electrical cord and a leather belt as implements of the Lord. Couple that with a constant volley of criticism and demeaning, and Jesus JR. was well on the way;on his was to mental problems and Avoidant Personality Disorder. We all know the myth that Jesus died a virgin. Mom did a damn good job putting me on that path. I was immersed in a baptism of sexual shaming. Sex was evil and I was to have no part of it. It’s no surprise that I’ve always has sever sexual and intimacy issues in my life. Thank-you Christianity.

Some time in my twelfth year I began to pull away from my mother and her religious insanity. At church I’d manifest medical symptoms which would necessitate me going home. Psychiatrist refer to this as a conversion disorder, the somatic expression of a psychological problem. My mother was a registered nurse who took excessive pride in her professional skills. By pandering to this portion of her pathology I managed to escape church. She wanted me to come back to the Lord, but I wore her down.

From this point forward in my life I developed a visceral hatred of all things Christian. Momma tried to raise me better but her pleading I denied, leaves only me to blame cause momma tried (Merle Haggard).

In my late 40’s I had a complete mental melt down. As part of my treatment my psychologist introduced me to meditation, the aspirin of mental health treatment. I found it to be very effective, and went on a search to learn how to develop and refine my ability to meditate. I took classes at my HMO, New Age workshops, and spent two years taking evening meditation classes with what I’m pretty sure was a cult. Then I hit pay dirt! On meetup.com I found a Buddhist meditation group. I went there and immediately found a home, and for the first time peace in my life. I joined this sect about three weeks before my mother died.

The Kadam at my center performed a Powa for my mother. He collected the ashes from the ritual, put them in a plastic bag and told me to release them into a river when I was calm enough to do so. Three weeks later, on a Sunday, I went to the river in our town and sat under a freeway bridge doing Buddhist meditations in preparation to release her ashes. I had a mystical experience. I saw two currents in the river colliding at the bridge support pylon, producing a turbulent flow down stream. I know this was a representation of our individual Karmas colliding to crash into turbulence.Our mental continuums were driven to collide at this point in time. walking down to the stream to place the ashes in the river I saw a salmon swimming past, going upstream to complete it’s cycle of life and death. I put the ashes in the river, but I saved a small amount to use to perform a christian ritual in deference to my mother’s religious beliefs.

I walked to a different part of the river bank to give my mother a “Christian Burial Service”. I could not remember the Lord’s Prayer. There was a lady and her dog playing in the river. I walked over to her and explained I was putting my mother”s ashes in the river as a funeral service and asked her if she knew the Lord”s prayer. She said, “Yes, I know it very well, I’m an Episcopal Priest.” She walked me through the prayer and then performed an Episcopal funeral service for my mother. I was crying and she looked at me and,said, “You know this didn’t happen by mere chance.” I knew she was correct. I asked her for a hug and walked slowly away. Mom always said the Lord works in miraculous ways, she was right. I have been blessed by that which is responsible for all creation, no matter how we try to explain it.