Three-year Old Snapshot

The following is a Facebook message I sent to a longtime acquaintance of mine who came out to me and asked me for my views. It's both a snapshot of where I was in life at the time and a concise expression of what has helped me chart my course over the last three years:


Dec. 4, 2008


D----,

This sounds like a phone conversation screaming to take place! I would love to talk to you about your experiences and your feelings! That will not stop me from writing a little, though.

It's been nine years since I finally decided what I was doing in life wasn't working. I'd been fighting my nature since I was very young, and one day I realized how much energy I was expending to the detriment of other areas of my life. I also realized that no matter how hard I fought, I would always be facing this struggle, and I wasn't sure I could carry that into a marriage, which was supposedly my next step.

Sooooo...longer story shortened, I'm gay. When all is said and done, my natural self wants to be with a man. The spiritual self isn't so sure, but I don't know that anyone like us would ever be able to put that one to rest. Do I still believe the gospel of Jesus Christ is true? Yes! In fact, I believe it more now that I did before, because I'm now keenly aware of my need for the atonement. The Church is a different story. I still invest in the idea of authority, but I know now that the leaders of the Church, while often inspired, are still just men...fallible men like me, especially on the local level. As far as the marriage thing goes, I just don't see how civil marriage for gay people makes the sacred concept of marriage any less precious or valuable. Frankly, I don't see straight people doing a very good job of keeping that sacred institution sacred.

Anyway, that should be enough to give basis to our discussion. My number is ---------. This week, I'm opening in a small local play, so between that and work, I don't have much time, but could we talk next week? I'm excited to talk with someone with whom I have so much in common!

Be well--

Trent

More Shadow Boxing

The Shadow Box opens tonight at the Old Town Actors' Studio. It's been an emotionally harrowing couple of days as final preparations have been made. I don't know why I expected to be emotionally stable when I'm having to repeatedly tell my stage wife I'm going to die. To access the emotions needed to do justice to the character and the text, I'm having to relive related moments in my own life. The fact that a dear, dear friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer last week has made this experience all the more poignant. Thank God her diagnosis wasn't terminal, but still...! To top it off, as I will explain in my next paragraph, I've been riding the roller coaster of new love with all of its accompanying exhilaration and anxiety. My heart is ragged and bruised, and really needs a chance to breathe.

I'm struggling with time, impending death and the fact that I can't stop either of them or make them stand still. I've allowed myself to fall deeply in love with someone significantly younger than me, and although the age difference doesn't bother the two of us, it bothers other people and they are making it difficult for us to just enjoy being together. It's very, very frustrating! I can't help being my age, and I'm not going to apologize to anyone for allowing love into my life. My God! Life is far, far too short to allow potential difficulties to deter us from taking the chances for happiness that come our way.  I'm not ignorant of the possible heartaches in the road ahead, but I refuse to live my life in fear anymore! I lived that way for far too long, and now struggle on a daily basis to change that life pattern by making bold choices and taking reasonable chances. Why can't the world just leave us alone to enjoy the brief time we have together?

For those with eyes to see and hearts to feel, the deeper message here will be clear. As Brian in the Box says: "People tell you you're dying and you say, 'All right.' But if I am dying, I must still be alive!" Instead of elaborating for pages and pages on these themes, I'm going to get up from my glowing screen and go live some life.

New Life

For the first time in two years, I'm alive again. Fully alive. As much of myself as I thought I had gained back, still I had forgotten what it was like to be this awake. This aware. To feel my heart connected to someone else this deeply. And it's better this time. Much better. Confidence in myself makes a big difference. I'm not perfectly confident, of course, but more so than I was before. It makes me less dependent out of need and more dependent by choice.

I've also realized that last time was largely an illusion. Things were revealed to me yesterday that lead me to believe I was a tool, a device to create and sustain drama for a needful period of time. What that need was I'll never really know, but…anyway, I'll never know and it doesn't matter.

I'll never allow myself to take this time for granted, but I'm less afraid that it's going to end. I can just enjoy it, unadulterated by fear. It's a wonderful feeling.

No Doubt

I just got off the phone with Chris. (In light of our conversation, I think it's okay to reveal his name here.) He loves me. There's no doubt now in my mind. And I love him. All of the little demons that tormented me over the last few hours are revealed for what they truly are, namely, my own fears and insecurities. What a courageous, pure-hearted man he is! I'm ashamed of the wild things that were traipsing through my brain. No matter. In the light of love, those things have lost their power and I will no longer be plagued with them. We still have some things to face together, but I know now we have a chance to beat those things because we will be doing just that: facing them together. It's 3:30 am. How can I sleep now?

Captured Lightening

A realization is dawning on me and I want to capture the lightening before the afterimage fades. My words, my glib articulations, are a form of armor. My public demeanor is a shield protecting the very vulnerable, insecure kid inside. Unfortunately, most people don't see beneath the surface, so when they're attracted to me, they're attracted to the shield and not to me. In one way or another, this has spelled doom for me in all my romantic relationships over the last ten years or so. It's a cycle. Someone, usually younger than me, expresses interest and I return it. There follows an intense acquaintance period where I drop the mask to bare my soul while I hope that they genuinely do the same. Once that is done, I'm no longer able to easily or comfortably put the mask back on when it's needful and appropriate to do so. The final steps are a cooling period as rapid as the initiation followed by the break up.

This evening, I spent some time pretending to be a high school kid.  In other words, I spent about a half hour hanging around my boyfriend while he worked. To be fair, I did have legitimate business there that had nothing to do with him, but I decided to "kill two birds with one stone" and deliver the gift I'd purchased for him so I could bask in the warmth of his eyes and smile. I believe he genuinely liked the present I gave him, but in a way, it fell flat because we had to behave ourselves in that public place. If he wanted to really show me how he felt, he couldn't. I proceeded to transform into a complete knuckle-dragger. I couldn't say anything clever or witty. I couldn't do anything but think about how badly I wanted to hold him and kiss him and feel his heart next to mine. Now I'm sitting here feeling insecure, afraid the pattern that has plagued me for so long is repeating itself. I hope it's not true, but if it is, I want to learn from it this time so it doesn't ever happen again. Better yet, perhaps by verbally externalizing and publicly examining it, I can keep it from happening now. Perhaps I've broken the cycle and I get to keep this one. I deeply hope so.

A New Chapter

If anyone has seen my Facebook posts over the last few days, they will have noticed several songs via YouTube, all dealing with a single theme. It seems a new chapter in my heart's history has been opened, and although there are those who would label this a mundane episode that could signal a retrogression in my spiritual and emotional healing, I have high hopes that a certain happiness that has so far eluded me will finally be mine. As far as I'm concerned, that kind of happiness can be a great balm to the soul, and I'm already experiencing it's beneficial effects.

There Shall a Star...

I'm glad I didn't check my horoscope today. It would have spoiled the surprises this evening held in store. (Although this blog was published on September 11, 2011, the events described occurred mostly on September 10.)

After a long day of rehearsal with the Trinity Choir, all of whom I cherish, I had plans to spend some time with my good friend, David.  I took a nap, went running, and had a protein shake before going over to his place, where he introduced me to Better Off Ted. That was the first happy surprise of the evening. Brilliantly written and so funny!

Next, David and I went to Charley's to go dancing. I'm glad I went because I learned a couple things and asserted one other that's still pretty new for me.  All of these were happy surprises.

First, I learned that I have my heart back. After two years of healing, my heart is whole. Certain wounds still ache, but they no longer bleed. It's been a long time coming, and I'm stronger for the struggle.

Second, I learned that David can dance! That boy has moves and rhythm that I NEVER expected! He knows all the lyrics, and dances with an abandon of which I didn't think him capable. It was joyful just to watch him, and it was even better to dance with him. I haven't had that much fun on the dance floor for as long as I can remember.

Third, I reasserted my determination not to accept someone's attention just because they were paying it to me. More than one person tried to put unwelcome moves on me tonight, both on the dance floor and off, and I had no problem shutting them down. It was so liberating not to feel obligated or desperate or grateful. I wasn't an asshole, but I wasn't a doormat either. And those people who thought it was appropriate or acceptable to touch me without some sign that I welcomed it need to learn some manners. I definitely do NOT like it!

Finally, I would like to address someone who was also at the bar tonight:  I was just as surprised to find you at the bar this evening as you obviously were to see me there. No, I did not show up just to ruin your birthday celebration, and nothing I did tonight was aimed in your direction. I think it's funny that neither of you are capable of acting like adults. Don't you think it's time we greet each other in public instead of trying to pretend we don't see each other, rushing past each other when forced to briefly share the same space? I'm not saying we have to be friends, but given what's gone on between us, a little civility would make life less uncomfortable for all of us.  Your boyfriend still acts like I'm trying to steal you.  It's been two years since you left me, and you've made it perfectly clear who you chose. At the very least, now I know for certain what I suspected all along and what you never had the decency to tell me to my face.  You went back to him, and you know what?  I'm actually happy for you both. If you two are happy together, then that's where you belong, and I'm finally free of ever wanting you back. That might have happened a lot sooner if you'd had the balls to say something like you promised you would, but it doesn't matter now.

I think all of this means that I like myself. This is new, and it feels really good. It's a step closer to being all one peace.

A Step Closer

I just ended a week-long chat flirtation with a very nice man who was only really interested in my nice arms...and other things. This is important because over the last week and a half, I reverted to some unhealthy behavior I thought I'd left behind me a long time ago. I guess I had forgotten the numbing emptiness that often accompanied such indecency. Apparently, I needed a reminder of why I'd migrated away from the behaviors in the first place. In any case, it felt really good to tell this man, in essence, that I was worth getting to know, and unless he wanted to do that, I was no longer interested in engaging his time or attention. It's also amusing to me that this guy, who had pounced every time I logged into Yahoo since our initial acquaintance, couldn't get away from me fast enough once our exchange verged on becoming real and personal. Some people would say that makes me a tease. I acknowledge their right to an opinion, and am really glad none of them are my friends.

After being treated like a scratching post for so long, mainly because I didn't think I was worth more than that, I'm finally ready to be treated like a human being. I have a lot to offer someone, and I won't settle for anything less than being appreciated for the quirky, loving, frustrating, passionate, tender, profound, caring, obtuse, and sensitive person that I am. I am ready to love and be loved.  It's exciting and scary, and it feels good to be ready for it.

Adieu, sir. You SO weren't what I was looking for.

Merciful Nature

I've been languishing with a sore throat and achy body for the past two days. Last night, I was watching an episode of Nature on PBS about leopards. I briefly thought to myself how simple it would be to be a leopard. I wouldn't have to worry about money or the economy or the possibility of Michelle Bachman becoming president. It occurred to me then, however, that if I was a leopard, I would most likely be the dumb one that got eaten by a lion. I also thought how merciful nature was to kill off the inferior ones so they wouldn't suffer with their weaknesses. Delirium's great, isn't it?

Maybe Darwin Wasn't Wrong...

There are times I stare at the computer screen with my web browser of choice open and think to myself, "I know this is a powerful tool, but what, exactly, can I do with it?" Ultimately, what do I do? I open Facebook to check and see if anyone has validated my existence by posting a comment or sending me a message, or worse, I'll go window shopping on Ebay or Amazon. I know there are other things I could do that would actually improve my life or allow me to accomplish something worthwhile, but instead I waste more time. I feel like a gorilla in a cage who's been given the keys to get out but, instead, just jangles them or tries to chew on them while the humans watch me in amusement. When will I evolve?

Gratefully, there are things in my life that have changed significantly. Most relevant of these to this blog is my willingness to face new or difficult things. It's becoming steadily easier for me to take a deep breath and plunge into the unknown, and this is a good thing. This is where "evolution" occurs. So maybe the question I should ask is, "When will I be able to forsake crawling for walking? And then walking for running?" I hope that learning to run, metaphorically speaking, will help me feel all one peace.

The Help

I just finished reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett. There are so many things right about this book. In fact, it does its job so well, that I need to rant a little because one of the characters has me so upset.

Hilly Holbrook is the main antagonist in the story. The author has done her job well with this portrait, painting Hilly as a loving mother who truly believes that the races of the world should be segregated and that the status quo of the 1960's social order should be left intact. She wields her social power with the ruthlessness of a cudgel yet the precision of a scalpel to achieve her objectives. No mere mustache twirler, Hilly illustrates the devastating power of gossip and rumor. She holds the threat of societal exclusion and exile over the heads of Jackson, Mississippi and the county around it. With a few words, Hilly affects the employment and, therefore, survival of entire families. Her love for her own children keeps her from being cliché, but I couldn't help feeling that I wanted to extinguish her existence. I cannot abide malice in people.

Luckily, The Help indirectly offers an antidote to the poison of malicious words. Gossip and rumor are both creatures of the dark. They cannot suffer the light of truth, especially when skillfully employed to leave no dim corners for their survival. Although it is a double-edged sword, the truth does indeed set people free whether they want that freedom or not.

Transparency is a rare commodity these days. It was nowhere to be found in Washington D.C., both sides of the debt debate posturing and drawing lines in the sand, endangering us all with their stubborn refusal to listen or compromise. Even in supposed places of light and learning, like Idaho State University, it is difficult to find lines of clear sight left unobscured by secrecy and "spin." I'm tired of the bullies. I wish other people were tired of them, too. Tired enough to do like the colored maids did in The Help, swallowing their fear and putting their lives on the line to shine the light of truth on the cancerous veil of misdirection and outright falsehood. It's time to rise up against the oppressors, folks! It's time we stopped allowing ourselves to be divided by false lines. It's time we stopped believing that there isn't enough of what we need to go around, allowing our fear to spawn greed and selfishness. Heal us, Lord, and make us whole...because it's apparent after thousands of years of human history that we can't do it on our own. (There. I warned you it would be a rant.)

For China

A Few Shots in Alaska

A Confessional Reply

I received a message yesterday from a friend asking what the catalyst was for my coming out.  This was my reply to him:


M*****,

I’m sorry this reply took so long, but I had to think carefully about what to say and how to say it.  You refer to an “about face” and asked me what changed.  Perhaps if I tell you a few things about my experience, my answer will be more understandable.

My first sexual experience with another boy happened just after I turned 8 years old.  I continued having occasional experiences, mostly with the same person, until I turned 14.  At that point, I was old enough to have some understanding of the gravity, in the eyes of the Church, of what I’d been engaging in.  I told my parents and they took me to see the bishop.  He thought it was something that would go away with time, so he told me not to tell anyone about it, to read The Miracle of Forgiveness, and we never really talked about it again.  (Incidentally, he recommended I see a counselor, but at the time, my parents didn’t trust the psychiatric profession at all, so I literally wasn’t able to talk about this with anyone.)  All through high school, I managed to refrain from having fun with other people, though I often had fun with myself.  For the most part, I was able to appear normal, but there were many unanswered questions I had that were buried beneath my self-denial.  I also felt very isolated

When I left home to go to college, those unanswered questions followed me.  I also was not prepared to conduct my own life, so the experience was very stressful for me.  I retreated into an over-zealous religiosity, offending my roommates and becoming very obnoxious to be around because I was so judgmental.  In the second semester, a 26 year-old Peruvian joined the student body of the music department.  He could sing much better than most of the rest of us, and I was very interested in him.  One day, he told me that his roommates would be gone all weekend and he didn’t like to stay in his apartment by himself.  He asked if I would like to sleep over.  My instincts told me there was much more to his invitation than his words implied, but I told him yes.  A huge battle sprang up inside me between my need to know the answers to my many questions and the warning voices that screamed at me to play it safe.  The night of the sleep over, I had this powerful urge to call this guy and cancel, but I told myself that I was being stupid and cowardly.  I went to the sleep over.

Within the first hour, the guy started putting the moves on me.  It didn’t take him long to get past my defenses.  We started fooling around.  The encounter didn’t reach full consummation until the next morning.  At that point, I freaked out.  I realized that there were HUGE consequences for what I’d just allowed to happen, and I wasn’t ready to face them.  The guy tried for a while to calm me down, but I left as quickly as I could.  For the next few days, he tried to win me back, but I was in full retreat by that time and I killed any possibility of anything happening with him ever again.

I again went to my parents.  They took me to the bishop (a different one because the previous one had been released).  Working with him and my college ward bishop, I was put on probation for 6 weeks.  Four months later, I was taking my endowments out at the temple and preparing for a mission.  I was determined that I was going to obey my way to straightness.  All through my mission, I followed the rules to the best of my ability.  I was able to go for two years without even having fun with myself.  Not once.

When I returned home, it became apparent to me pretty quickly that all that obedience on my mission hadn’t “cured” me.  To keep an already long story from becoming even longer, I’ll just say that I struggled on for four years, trying to find a way to calm the fire in my blood.  There was one girl that I came close to proposing to, but I knew that I couldn’t in all honesty kneel across an altar from her and promise fidelity to her…at least not yet.  It ended because she grew impatient and started playing games, trying to make me jealous with another guy.  I let the other guy have her.

There finally came a day when I knew I couldn’t run anymore.  I was spinning my wheels, getting nowhere in my life, spending all my energy fighting myself.  It wasn’t easy to let go of my struggle.  It’s been more than ten years and I still find myself somewhat caught between what I’ve felt I was supposed to be and what I am by my physical nature.  It’s easier now, though, than it used to be.  Being able to talk about it and experience it has helped me understand it better and deal with it better.

Now, how do I know I’m not just confusing strong feelings of friendship with sexuality? I don’t.  I fall in love with friends, new and old.  The process of opening our souls up to each other is one of the most exciting things, both spiritually and sexually, that I know.  It always begins with an attraction to his soul that then develops into a longing for a physical intimacy to complete the spiritual one.  I’ve never really wanted that with a girl, at least not that I can remember.  In fact, there was once that a female friend of mine tried to put some moves on me that made me so uncomfortable I cried.  Broke down right in front of her.  That’s never happened to me with a guy.  Please understand, though, that I never move on my friends unless it's clear that they welcome the advances.  And if it comes to keeping or losing a friendship, I'd much rather have a friend than lose a lover.  I have a lot of friends.

How do I reconcile all of this with my feelings about God, Jesus Christ and the Church?  I don’t.  However, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that God and Jesus are not fond of liars.  I figure as long as I’m being honest with myself and others about my thoughts and feelings, that’s got to count for something.  And aren’t we here to learn about being human anyway?  Wasn’t that what this whole earth life thing is about?  Didn’t Eve tell Adam in the Pearl of Great Price that if it weren’t for their transgression, they’d have never known good from evil?  I have to trust that if God had wanted to, He would have straightened me out, answering many, many prayers.  Instead, I’m still “experiencing same-sex attraction” as the Church calls it.  There has to be a reason.

By the way, although I’ve been involved with university organizations that deal with issues of sexuality, I’ve never been president of one.  Just thought you should know the truth about that, too.

I hope this is helpful in some way.  Thanks for having the guts, grace, trust and respect to ask me.

Sincerely,

Trent

Calm As a Summer's Morning

I just returned from attending a fireside at the Satterfield Stake Center where my parents sang with the Sounds Choir. It was a lovely program, and I was happy to hear how well the choir was sounding. Their rendition of "My Shepherd Will Supply My Need" as arranged by Mack Wilburg brought me to tears and stirred up memories of singing that very arrangement in a broadcast with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir when I was still a student at Ricks College. As usual, when faced with memories of past religious and spiritual experiences, I initially experienced conflicting thoughts and emotions, including significant pain about my current relationship with "the Church."

What was unusual about this encounter was how quickly that conflict came to clarity and unification. This personal epiphany occurred as the choir started to perform "Calm as a Summer's Morning," a narrated musical reflection on Joseph Smith by Lex de Azevedo. When I sang with Sounds years ago, we performed this piece, so it was one with which I was familiar. Back then, I was deeply moved by it, and regarded the experience as a further witness of the divinity of Joseph's calling. As I listened to the text and the music this time, it struck me how much it strove to evoke and manipulate emotion. Whenever the text departed from quotation, that fact became uncomfortably apparent, and it did not have the ring of truth to my soul. Instead, I was filled with the strong thought that "Brother Joseph" would not have approved of this piece at all, that perhaps he might even have been embarrassed or incensed by it. In a way, it seemed a form of idol worship. In contrast with my previous experience, this piece was witness to the type of departure from the true discipleship of Christ that has bothered me about the Mormon culture for many years. In their isolation in the Salt Lake valley, while the Mormons nursed the wounds of their previous persecution, a culture of Latter-Day prophet worship sprang up, flourished and has continued to this day. They often voice that this is not the case, but their actions speak much louder than their words. This is not to say that they do not worship Jesus Christ, nor does it mean that their doctrine is less than Christ-centered, but their worship is diluted by their devotion to the men with "the mantle."

So what did I gain from this experience? It confirmed for me things that I'd been tossing around in my head for quite a while now. I believe Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ. I believe he communed with them more than once. I believe, in general, that the work wrought through him is of God. However, I actively question much of what transpired after he was killed. I believe moving the Saints out of harm's way for an extended period of time was an inspired move on Brigham Young's part, perhaps even inspired of God. I do NOT believe, however, that the culture that developed afterward, and influenced later interpretation and application of doctrine, is what God meant to do.  Spending a couple of years with the Episcopalians has focused my view on how Christ-centered worship should be handled and what it looks like.

I also gained some relief from the feeling that I was somehow being led astray by my own arrogance. The conviction that brought these thoughts home to me is the same conviction I felt when I had my first real religious awakening. It brought me some hope that perhaps I am on the right path to becoming all one peace.

Prayer and Romantic Relationships

Lately I've taken to reading a little before I get out of bed. It seems a more pleasant way of starting the day and I tend to be in a better mood when I do. This morning, after reading about Richard Tauber in J.B. Steane's Singers of the Century, Vol. 1, I was strangely compelled to pull out my Bible and look up prayer in the Bible Dictionary.

I've perused this entry many times before in my life. What always stuck with me was that the purpose of prayer wasn't to change God's mind but instead to change my own, bringing it into harmony with His will. I hated that. It always felt like losing somehow, and seemed to invalidate anything I wanted that wasn't what I was told to want. While I was trying to be a good Mormon, I began severely editing my personal prayers to include only things I thought God would agree to, only those things it was "proper" to ask for. This was a dangerous thing to do, for the wants I suppressed gained strength, mostly due to my resistance of them. Failing to even acknowledge their existence only made them scream louder for recognition. When I apostatized from "the Church" to be a good homosexual, I more or less stopped praying altogether, only resorting to it in times when those I loved were in extreme need, or when I felt the need to pray for them. Obviously God's will and mine were irreconcilable and thus it would be useless for me to pray to Him on my own behalf.

Reading the dictionary entry again brought a fresh perspective to me. I quote the essence of the article: "Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other. The object of prayer is not to change the will of God, but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant, but that are made conditional on our asking for them...Christians are taught to pray in Christ's name. We pray in Christ's name when our mind is the mind of Christ, and our wishes the wishes of Christ - when his words abide in us (John 15:7). We then ask for things it is possible for God to grant. Many prayers remain unanswered because they are not in Christ's name at all; they in no way represent his mind, but spring out of the selfishness of man's heart." I realized this morning that it wasn't wrong for me to discuss my true desires with God. Prayer doesn't need to be a form of self-denial. It is not another stick to beat myself with. If God is willing to grant me blessings I want for myself or others, then He will grant them. If not, then there's still no harm in asking. The ridiculous idea that I will offend God if I ask for something "out of line" is just that -- ridiculous. I can still offer my prayers in Christ's name and leave it to God to decide what is the mind and wish of Christ. The act of "corresponding" with God in this way is much more healthy because is it honest. I was always taught that God loves honesty.

After reading and pondering this subject, I remembered that I'd seen a video blog recently about David (of Goliath-slaying fame) and Jonathan, the son of Saul. I wanted to know what the Bible Dictionary had to say about Jonathan, and was quite surprised at what I found. I quote: "His friendship for David, whom he might naturally have regarded as a rival, is one of the most romantic incidents in O.T. [Old Testament] history." The friendship of David and Jonathan is a "romantic incident?" There is a "bro-mance" in the Bible and the Mormons openly acknowledge it? In view of the attitudes with which I was raised regarding male emotional intimacy, this was quite a revelation. I realize that the Church doesn't specifically condemn strong emotional attachments between males, but much of the culture is such that eyebrows are raised at the notion. I wonder if my psycho-sexual development would have been any different if my obvious need for emotional intimacy with members of my own sex had been better understood by those appointed to guide me in this life. I'm not yet going to go as far as other people and say that David and Jonathan's relationship was sexual, but I'm willing to bet there was a good deal of physicality to it. It's definitely something I'm going to investigate. Who knew that a morning perusal of the Bible Dictionary could be so rewarding?