Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … December 24th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Man: One of the things that’s always fascinated me about Christmas is that Jesus was supposed to be born “the Son of David”–because of his family and all–but Mary was a virgin, right?

 

Woman: That’s her story and she’s stickin’ to it.

 

Man: So if she’s a virgin, does that mean we go through all that lineage of David, and then at the last moment, Joseph doesn’t get to be the Daddy of the Messiah?

 

Woman: That’s right–although there are some who insist that Mary was also the lineage of David. But if that was the case, Matthew and Luke would have traced her lineage to make the point that Jesus was a really, really fine Jewish boy.

 

Man: That is so far out. Why don’t people talk about that more?

 

Woman: That’s easy. Since this is a male-dominated world, and most Christians don’t want to offend Jews by promoting a Savior who didn’t have “David” in him, we choose to overlook the real story, and probably in the process, disguise the humor of God.

 

Man: Well, to me the significance is that God had no intention of making the best friend of all humankind come just from the Jewish race.

 

Woman: And to me, the importance is that God chose to bewilder everybody by pulling off His great blessing by using just a woman.

 

Man: So what you’re telling me is that in the Middle East, where women are considered to be less than men–maybe barely above livestock–they still worship the King of Kings, who didn’t have any Earthly daddy. Just a mommy and God.

 

Woman: That’s right. God will not be manipulated. God is not angry at the Jews, but He also doesn’t consider them to be his “chosen people.” Jesus came to be the brother of all humans–therefore Eastern astrologers, Palestinian shepherds and folks from Egypt knew him as a boy, right along with all the faithful of the Moses crowd.

 

Man: What an amazing story.

 

Woman: I’d go further than that. It’s a classic bluff. The Jewish people struggled with their faith for years and years, so God gave them a new faith they could believe in that had nothing to do with being a Jew, but instead was about learning to become a human being of the whole Earth.

 

Man: Christmas is so cool. It’s so ballsy. Just the faith of Mary and Joseph to stick together, wise men to follow a star, shepherds to believe angels, and God to snub tradition–to birth Jesus solely through Mary.

 

Woman: So I guess that clears the air on what God thinks about equal rights…

 

Man: God is a feminist. He chose a female to be His partner in salvation.

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … March 12th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Dear Man: I hope you don’t mind me sending along my ideas and feelings in the form of this note. I just didn’t want to sit down and have a face-to-face discussion, get interrupted and lose my train of thought.

Even though I see us making gradual progress to understand one another, I feel there is one large hurdle that we just can’t seem to get over.

You think I’m weak.

It’s not your fault. You were taught to do it. All the television shows portray women as having great intelligence, but falling apart under pressure.

You and I were born practically equal.

For the first ten years of our lives, our bodies were almost the same. I ran as fast as you, and you cried like a girl when you fell down and skinned your knee. Then the natural order–Mother Nature–came along and changed things to make sure that our species would be able to have a mother and a father to push the plan ahead.

I got estrogen, which gave me breasts, a period and hormones of sensitivity. You got testosterone, which gave you balls and a single-mindedness toward single-handedly procreating the species.

I no longer could run as fast as you could.

I couldn’t lift as much weight.

A few days every month, I found myself nearly out of commission due to my menstrual cycle.

At that point, you looked upon me as weaker.

It infuriated me. I could still think, feel and react with as much smarts as you, but because of my lesser muscle mass and need to mother children, I felt that I lost respect in your eyes.

I hate that.

It seems ridiculous to me that we view one another based upon the conditions of our genetic responsibility instead of realizing that we are both human beings and share almost everything in common.

I am tired of being the weakling–but I’m also tired of apologizing for having an emotional side which you may or may not understand.

So you try to be sensitive to my lack. That can make you consider me the weaker sex, which can end up with me being nothing more than “the little woman.”

Do you understand? I can’t be just “the little woman” and stay sane. I have to be more than a birthing chamber that ovulates three or four days a month.

I yearn for the time when we were children and had a childlike appreciation for each other. There were no “girl baseball teams” and “boy baseball teams.” We played all the games together.

I don’t want to be your weakling.

I don’t want to struggle to get respect because I’m seen as inferior. I don’t want to be viewed as bitchy and pushy.

Do you understand what I’m saying? Can you fathom how horrible you would feel if you were deemed second-rate? Why would it feel any different for me?

I thank you for reading this.

I’m not trying to blame you–I’m just curious if you can comprehend my heart.

Can we escape the futility of separating the sexes into Mommy and Daddy?

You don’t need to respond, but if you do, be candid and not afraid to share you heart.

I was thinking of you.

Woman

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Confessing … October 31st, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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XXVI.

I confess so I can heal.

If I deny, I remain sick.

Too much of a good thing.

No such creature.

However, there is a possibility of too much of my good thing. An overdose of my definition of “proper” and my code of appropriate behavior.

In my lifespan, I have seen morality change so often that I think we might want to consider writing the list in pencil. Finding what is unchangeable and humanly fulfilling is like searching for the pearl of great price in a desert of my misunderstanding.

Thus my problem with William.

We had the same Mommy and Daddy. I have been trying to confirm that we have the same Father.

I am not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, but I see no value in traveling through this life making effort to love my neighbor as myself, comfortless from having a Friend who encourages me and believes in the same aspiration.

I really don’t care if He or She is imaginary as long as He or She is attentive.

William checked out of his life too early.

He was an excellent teacher who became despondent because he cared too much. The interesting factor is that after each one of us checks out of our lives, we no longer care about how we treated the “motel room” provided. Yes, there’s a danger of trashing one’s own existence.

About 25 years ago I decided to love William no matter what.

Hell, I was lousy at it. The reason for my failure is that even though I pursued unconditional love, I realized that humanly speaking, once that is determined to be impossible, we become obnoxious to those we intended to bless. Simply put, in the process of loving William, I had too many goddamn ideas on what William should be.

• I thought it was helpful. It ended up being hurtful.
• I thought it was ingenious. It was proven ridiculous.
• I was never condemning. But I cannot truthfully say I was always consoling.

So for about nine months, I walked away from my relationship with William, giving him a chance to breathe air that wasn’t contaminated with my opinion.

The difficulty lies in the fact that William tends to alienate those souls who come his way, so after several months he recontacted me, figuring that a nosy brother was better than leading a faceless life.

So I’m off today to have lunch with him for the first time in over a year. I am scared and not ashamed to admit it.

I don’t want to be an asshole.

I don’t want to tread on his very thin ice, break through and drown us both.

So I confess to you that I am a caring person who realizes that caring is a dangerous thing. It only becomes valubale if the person receiving it has some place to tuck it away.

 

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