Yes, I’ve found myself praying lately.
Specifically, what happens is I’ll be on my phone and I’ll read something completely maddening or depressing. Almost literally depressing—like the weight of what I’ve just read is pushing down on me, making me smaller and smaller. But(!) instead of continuing to stay on my phone, I’ll put it to the side, just out of reach, and then I’ll pray. To god, I presume?
To be clear, I don’t consider myself a part of any religious institution, although I grew up going to church with my mom and step-dad, who at the time were Presbyterians, a denomination that Anne Lamott’s dad referred to as “God’s frozen people” (in her book, Traveling Mercies).
Nonetheless, I have strong memories of losing myself in silent prayer and a strange peace coming over me. I was probably fifteen or sixteen at the time, and I’m assuming I associated this peaceful feeling with god himself. (Back then, god definitely used a male pronoun.)
It does feel good to do this—to pray—especially at first. Just to close your eyes and ask for help. (That is what I’m praying for: help.) But then, a voice comes into my headspace asking me: What are you doing? Do you really believe in god, Amelia? And if so, what freaking “side” are they on? I used the pronoun “they” here, but to be honest, it’s hard to shake the idea of god as anything other than a male, humanlike figure. Sigh.
Although, when I open the word up to the plural form, gods, it is easier to imagine. Easier to imagine a muscular Zeus-y version and then a big-breasted…
Okay, so I just went on a giant Google search, trying to find the name of the goddess with big breasts whose image resides in my head, but whose name apparently didn’t. I started by searching “Big-breasted Hindu goddess,” but she wasn’t there!
I knew that I was introduced to this image via a statue that is part of The Norton Simon Museum’s permanent collection. So then I went to their website and again, using the search-term Hindu, tried to find her. Alas, none of these were matching the one in my head.
The whole time I was doing this, I knew another way I could find her, which was to go through the Photos app on my desktop as I knew I’d taken a photo of her (statue) with one of my kids in the foreground. I also knew that it would have to be either the summer of 2017 or the summer of 2018 because that was the window of time when we had a family membership to that museum. (Important detail: We didn’t renew our membership because our definition of “well-behaved kids in a museum” didn’t jive with the security guards there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. )
So, reluctantly, I opened up the Photos app. I began in the summer of 2018 and moved backwards. The kids are so young. I am so young! And interspersed between photos of my children and food are images of texts: the books I’m reading. I become even further distracted from my goal by this passage from a book called Rites and Myths of Seduction by Aldo Carotenuto.
Funnily enough, though I abandoned this book five years ago, it’s one I wasn’t “finished” with and so, I’d never cleared it off my desk, so that as I type this, I can see it. It’s sitting on the bottom of a pile but still, only six inches from my computer. (Full disclosure, I slid it out from underneath the stack to take a new photo of its cover and of this passage, as the images from 2018 had some lighting issues.)
For emphasis, I’m retyping this part:
[A] patience and courage typically feminine, the patience of long gestation and the courage to give life to new forms of the self…
Rereading this block of text brings me vividly, pulsingly, back to this period of my life when I was deep in the forest of motherhood but also writing as much as I could—what would become Wildcat—as I listened to the soundtrack of Call Me By Your Name, just deeply curious about desire and obsession.
At the same time, I’m no longer in it—that time period, that is— which I think allows me to see what I was going through more objectively.
For example, 2018-Amelia didn’t underline that first sentence about how “Eros makes possible the transformation of the psyche through the efforts, trials, and suffering it imposes.” But 2023-Amelia sees that line and thinks, but that is exactly what was happening: I was suffering because of Eros. I was in the midst of transformation.
You can define Eros in many, many ways, but for my purposes, I’m thinking of it simply as “love for another.” And specifically, in the context of my own transformation: my love for my children. That’s what changed me. (But I didn’t go willingly into that good night!) (#plot if you’re a writer writing about motherhood!)
[But wait a second, Amelia. You were writing about praying! Don’t worry, I’ll get back there!]
So I continue scrolling back through time and soon, I come upon this: the Aldo Carotenuto quote that led me to order his Rites and Myths of Seduction.
How good is this quote? No wonder I wanted to read more of Aldo’s work!
Let’s reread this part:
This is because, in acknowledging contradictory truths, one has to create an inner equilibrium to keep from being torn in two.
Don’t you want to scream this at the top of your lungs as you tell your “friends” to stop posting their political quick takes on social media? No?? Ah, good! That was a test to see if you had indeed created an inner equilibrium! You passed! Good for you, Reader.
As for me, I have more work to do!
Okay, so eventually, I do get to the photo I was looking for: the statue/ god in question. Instantly, I think to myself: no wonder I was drawn to it. Her breasts are so pleasing to look at as is her little paunch. I mean, don’t you want her to be your god?
I zoom in as much as I can on the placard behind her, and then the name hits me. Tara!
I search within the Norton Simon’s website archives and I find her information. As it turns out, she is not a Hindu God. She is a Buddhist deity!
From the museum’s online description:
The Buddhist deity Tara is the goddess of compassion, who aids devotees in overcoming personal difficulties. The inscription inside her halo is the Buddhist creed, which reads ‘[Buddha] has revealed the cause of those phenomena which spring from a cause and also [the means of] their cessation. So says the Great Monk.’
I don’t know about you, but Tara or at least the creed on the inside of her halo seems to be telling me that… the answer to my prayers will be found… within myself?
Oy.
Doesn’t that feel like: So. Much. Work?
Wouldn’t you rather just fire off a bunch of tweets?
Yeah, me too.
Xoxx
Amelia
Couple of things: I too recall my listening to the Call Me by Your Name soundtrack era, and I was doing so on long neighborhood walks with my dog. Who is now elderly and can only make it maybe half a block from our home. And…I’m Episcopalian (raised Southern Baptist, ugh) and I know for sure whose “side” my god is on and it’s the side of love. Love for all humans, be they poor, immigrant, gay, trans, a woman who wants bodily autonomy, or anyone who wants to simply live in peace without fear of gun violence. That is my god. Glad you’re finding some peace from prayer.
One thousand applause emojis for that dismount! Also the cute diaper buns pic / inner equilibrium. I *DO* want those breasts and paunch as my god! (Also could be found within myself, lol?) Very fun read and hope you tagged #greatlines for you, um, tags! #internetspeak #books #Tara&Teddy