Inspiration

Learning To Be Okay With Saying “I Don’t Know”

Have you heard of Louise Penny? She’s a Canadian author who writes mysteries set in the fictitious town called Three Pines that is so remote it doesn’t appear on any maps. And because Three Pines is in Canada, in Quebec, just over the border from Vermont, the stories are usually set in winter. The cold outdoors is a cozy contrast to the roaring fireplace, the warm bistro serving  steaming bowls of soup and plates of grilled cheese sandwiches that create a picture in our minds.

But we’re there for the people. There’s the cranky old poet Ruth who came up with, “I’m FINE” (FINE stands for Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Egotistical); Clara the artist who finds success once she finally steps out of her husband’s shadow; Myrna the former psychologist who now owns a bookstores in Three Pines; Armand and his wife Reine-Marie who have been married for 35+ years and have the sweetest marriage. In Three Pines, friendships are strong and last-lasting. The bistro—run by Olivier and Gabri—is welcoming. And the food is always delicious.

Personally I’ve always had a crush on Chief Inspector Armand Gamache who loves reading, has a remarkable gift of understanding people and always smells of sandalwood and rosewater.

In his quiet intelligent way, Gamache is also very wise. Here’s an example:

“There are four things that lead to wisdom. You ready for them?” She nodded, wondering when the police work would being. “They are four sentences we learn to say, and mean.” Gamache held up his hand as a fist and raised a finger with each point. “I don’t know. I need help. I’m sorry, I was wrong.”

—Still Life by Louise Penny

During my time in Gilead, I never said “I don’t know.” That’s because I thought I had the answer to everything. I was certain in my own point of view. I was overly confident in what I knew. I even considered myself an expert on many topics.

Was Chief Inspector Gamache right? Is there wisdom behind saying, “I don’t know”?

It turns out that the most wisest and erudite people in history have always said, “I don’t know”. The impressionist painter Michel de Montaigne coined the term, “What do I know?” (“Que sçay-je?”) William Shakespeare wrote, “A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.” Confucius said, “True wisdom is knowing what you don’t know.”

A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.

William Shakespeare

Reading outside of Gilead’s own library of books made me realize what a fool I had been. When I thought I was at my smartest, I actually knew nothing. The more I learned, the more I realized what I don’t know. I also understood why reading books outside of Gilead’s library had always been discouraged. Saying “I don’t know” can cause a crisis of faith, but that’s okay because experience, not just knowledge, is the beginning of wisdom. It’s actually pretty empowering.

How To Be A Strong, Creative, Independent Woman After Leaving A Cult

Dear Lady Whistleblower,

I was raised to be a submissive, obedient woman by my high-control religion. I hate calling it a cult, because I hate that word. But we were told what kind of clothes to wear (skirts had to be below the knee, pants were frowned upon, for example), we were discouraged from ever voicing our own opinion, we were not allowed to “teach” men, some people in my religion didn’t even like the word “partnership” to describe a marriage because that word made it seem like men and women were equal.

Was this Afghanistan? No. I live in an affluent, liberal-minded city on the West Coast. I guess I’m curious about where to start in terms on how I view myself as a woman going forward. I want to shed these toxic beliefs about myself as a woman but where do I even begin?

***

Wow, this is an amazing question. First, I’d like to recommend a book that helped me tremendously as I tried to figure out who I was as a woman after leaving Gilead: Goddesses in Everywoman: Powerful Archetypes in Women’s Lives by Jean Shinoda Bolen. Written in the 80’s, Shinoda-Bolen is a psychiatrist and MD who found a unique way of presenting the psychology of women based on the goddesses of Ancient Greece. The stories around these Greek goddesses have been around for more than three thousand years, and are definitely worth a look. My answer to you will be mostly based on what I learned from that book.

Although not as insane as being a woman in Afghanistan, being raised in Gilead had warped my own view of being a woman and how we should move about in this world (Gilead wanted women to move and talk quietly, modestly and obediently).

Seeing how women were viewed from the lens of 3,000 years ago in Ancient Greece turned out to be empowering, inspiring and very educational.

I was surprised to learn about the feminine archetype of Athena. She’s very strategically minded, confident, competitive and a clear thinker. Did you know that it was Athena who was the best strategist during the Trojan War? But she was never considered “masculine” or “too manly”. She just had her own style of feminine energy. I hadn’t been taught to develop those Athena-like qualities: developing a business sense, managing and investing my money, feeling equal to a man, speaking with confidence and authority.

As I exited a religious cult, I needed that Athena energy to assess my new situation. In this time of crisis, I needed to be strategic and practical. I needed to be unemotional and rationally decide who I could trust with my secret plan of leaving my religion and who I couldn’t. I had to assess what the trajectory of my life would look like: would I stay in my current city, how’s my financial situation, do I need to go back to school, what relationships can I maintain and which ones do I need to let go of. Rational Athena never loses her head, her heart or her self-control. I wouldn’t want to be Athena for the rest of my life, but during this stage in my life, it served an important purpose.

Then there’s the goddess Artemis. Exiting a religious cult is a bit like leaving a controlling, manipulative relationship. That’s why learning about Artemis was so important for me. Artemis was known for not needing a man, and not doing anything just to please a man.

In Shinoda Bolen’s book, she uses the example of women who marry young; they often won’t find their Artemis energy until much later in life — usually after a divorce. That’s because they’ve gone from the role of a daughter straight to role of a wife. They haven’t had a chance to develop the strong, independent spirit that Artemis is known for. I began to think that a divorce was a good analogy for what I was going through — I was divorcing Gilead. It was going to get messy, painful and even ugly. I needed to develop my Artemis energy in order to survive this divorce.

I had been raised by a pretty strong, feminist-leaning mother but it was within the context of a patriarchal religious hierarchy, so in order to really activate my inner Artemis, I needed to relearn a lot a things about how I saw myself as a woman and discover how to be a strong, independent woman without the confines of what a religion had taught me.

Learning about the Artemis archetype turned out to be a lot of fun! We already know that Artemis is very independent, but she also tends to feel strongly about principles. She’s quick to use her strength to come to the defence of someone smaller or younger. Think about Katniss in Hunger Games and how protective she was of her younger sister. She stepped forward and volunteered to take Prim’s place in the dangerous and deadly Games. I think I already had some Artemis energy but this time, instead of advocating for others, I needed to protect myself.

I realized that my Artemis energy had been very useful to me in my former religion because it gave me meaning and purpose. I liked the challenge of learning a new language or navigating different personalities and cultures. I’ve never felt the pressure to have kids and now I understand why: Just like Artemis, I was comfortable putting that particular kind of mothering energy into other young women or other people’s kids.

That Artemis energy also comes with an ability for coldness and cruelty. It surprised me how quickly I could “ghost” or “write off” certain people in my life, as I left my religion. Maybe I felt like if I shunned them first, it wouldn’t hurt as much? But it still felt pretty terrible to act so coldly in my task of regaining my power. To balance that aspect of my Artemis energy, I’m still trying to figure out the right balance of compassion while protecting myself. So a little bit of Aphrodite — the goddess of love — will help with that!

Aphrodite is my kind of girl. She’s whom I aspire to be. To Homer, she was “a lover of laughter”. She was sensual, creative and loving. If you’ve ever fallen in love, that’s your Aphrodite energy coming through.

I once had a good friend who was constantly falling in love with everyone she met. She’d have multiple crushes on people. She struggled with adult acne during most of her 20’s but that didn’t stop her from feeling attractive and sexy. And guess what? People were magnetized to her, too. Men of all ages loved her. She was also always full of ideas and plans. She wanted to move to Italy one day, the next day she was going to become a therapist. Another time, she convinced a group of friends to join her belly-dancing class. She loved good food and although she didn’t drink wine, she appreciated it when other people loved and savoured their wine. Without being corny, she would constantly say stuff like, “you need to love yourself, girl”.

Sadly, our very strict, fundamentalist religion tried to suppress any type of Aphrodite energy — being flirty, falling in love easily, a fiery personality, intense relationships with everyone she would meet  — so my friend was always considered as someone weak, “bad association” and was never socially accepted within Gilead.

As I left my religion, I tried to harness some of that Aphrodite energy. I wanted to be loving and creative. But how?

Aphrodite lives out of abundance, not scarcity. She loves generously and without judgement. In my religion, I had been taught to live out of scarcity, not abundance. There was scarcity of everything—the number of hours in the day, single eligible men, privileges, money and other resources.

Having called myself a Christian my entire life, I thought I knew the Bible. But when I started doing my own studying and research of the Bible (outside of my religion’s own library of publications), I was surprised at how much the message of abundance, and not scarcity, is everywhere. Jesus and the miracle of the loaves, the miracle of turning water into wine. The Israelites were commanded to leave the edges of their harvest in harvested so that foreigners and single-parent families could harvest the edges in what’s called gleaning; the abundance of  manna that appeared every morning (except on the Sabbath which was their day of rest). Even the Sabbath was a sign of abundance: you and your family would always have enough, even if you took a day off.

Along with that abundance mindset, Aphrodite removes any type of guilt and judgment. She really doesn’t care how people spend their time. If you want to take a two-hour nap every day, Aphrodite would be the friend who would say, “Go for it, girl!” She simply doesn’t judge who we are or what we do. Oh my, this was the total antithesis of who I had been in my former religion. I had to let go of knowing everything, judging others, being right all of the time.

We all want to be friends with Aphrodite because we feel comfortable being in the presence of someone we know isn’t secretly judging us. It’s how we all want to be loved – to be accepted for who we are – and when we do experience it, there’s an immediate bond and deeper connection.

Back to my Aphrodite friend. She was always very much living in the present. Do-now, think-later. Now that I think about it, it was completely opposite to what my religion taught us: Don’t-now. Do-someday. And that someday would be in a future paradise. So not even in this life!

My friend seized each day with full optimism and delight. It makes me think of Maya Angelou’s line: “This is a wonderful day. I have never seen this one before”. I think we can all channel that Aphrodite energy by doing new things, spending time with people without an ounce of judgement and being open to connecting deeply with others. That killer combo of Aphrodite’s openness and charisma in women can be so intriguing.

Shinoda Bolen says, as women, we will experience Aphrodite’s influence most intensely during the time of ovulation — 14 days before our period — that’s when we feel our most sexy, flirtatious and extroverted self!

In essence, there’s hope for all of us who were raised inside a strict, patriarchal religious cult. If we can learn to harness the triple threat feminine energy of Athena (goddess of courage, wisdom, strategy, skill), Artemis (independent, protector of young girls, healer) and Aphrodite (love, passion, pleasure), we would be well on our way to becoming well-balanced, powerful woman. I highly recommend reading Goddesses in Everywoman: Powerful Archetypes in Women’s Lives by Jean Shinoda Bolen for a deeper dive on this topic.

nepal, sunrise, mountains

How To Murder Your Cult Life

Did you ever read Shonda Rhimes’s book, A Year of Saying Yes? If you’ve ever enjoyed watching Grey’s Anatomy (the first few seasons were amazing but fizzled out for me after Cristina Yang left the show), Scandal (I loved Olivia Pope’s style more than the actual storyline) and most recently Bridgerton (yes please!), then you probably know and love everything that Shonda Rhimes imagines and creates.

I first saw the cover of that book A Year of Saying Yes while vacationing somewhere hot and beachy. There was a pretty, suntanned girl about my age, a few beach chairs down who was reading the hardcover version of the book and kept turning to her to say, “omigod this book is so amazing.”

The title alone might not have enticed me but the beach girl’s enthusiastic, real-time endorsement of the book worked on me.

A few weeks later after finishing the book myself, I excitedly told my friends, “Guess what, guys? I’m going to start saying yesyesyes to everything”.

Looking back, it was kind of hilarious because I was inside a religion where we were taught to say “yes here I am!” to everything — as long as it wasn’t a birthday party or an invitation to go for a drink with people at work. In other words, every year was A Year of Saying Yes for me.

Sadly I can’t remember much about my own experience of trying a Year of Yes. Most likely, because my life — unlike Lady Shonda’s — didn’t change all that much.

Later, when I slowly and quietly started to exit my religion, I ended up doing the reverse. I had a Year of Saying No. Now, that was interesting.

I don’t know about Shonda Rhimes, but saying No was a lot harder to say than Yes.

Saying No initially took careful planning because I had unconsciously been saying yesyesyes to everything and anything. Not having an automatic answer for everything forced me to be thoughtful about the actual question. In the beginning, I thought I had to explain why I was saying No. My sentences would always sound something like this: “I’m sorry I can’t because…”

Later I learned Oprah’s wise advice: No is a complete sentence. Damn I wish I had known that sooner. If saying No as a complete sentence seems too harsh or abrupt for the situation, I might say something like, “I’m sorry that won’t work for me,” or “I’m unable to do that.”

Saying No surprised people who were used to me saying yesyesyes to everything. But in turn, I witnessed those friends starting to saying No themselves to scheduled activities/invitations/obligations that didn’t bring them joy. It made me think that people want to be able to say No but certain cultures frown upon it. In the Japanese culture, for example, the direct translation of the word No iie might as well be the equivalent of telling someone to F* off; on the flip side, in Chinese there are multiple ways to say No such as bu’yao, bu’xing, bu’keyi. And then many social environments (say, in a high control religious group or a top-down corporate culture) make it really difficult to say No.

Saying No meant I received fewer invitations to happy hour or dinner parties. But that meant I had more time for myself and activities that I truly enjoyed doing. And nothing was going to stop me from enjoying happy hour on my own!

Saying No meant saying good-bye to some relationships. But that was okay too, because a lot of those people were unhappy, overly judgmental, loved to gossip about each other and drained my energy.

It’s funny because I went back to A Year of Saying Yes and discovered this line: “Saying no was a way to disappear. Saying no was my own slow form of suicide.”

That’s when I realized that I needed that Year of Saying No to free myself from my religion. It allowed me to disappear and become invisible to my group. But I learned that I would be okay without them. Saying No was my religion’s equivalent of murdering my life. It might sound morbid, but that part of my life had to be killed off in order for me to start saying Yes again.

Let me know if you’ve ever had the desire to murder your life!