I was born three weeks past my due date during the hot summer of 1973. As my mother tells it, the only thing on TV was the Watergate hearings and she was miserable wondering why this projected July baby was taking so long. Frankly, I think I was trying to be my dad's 23rd birthday present. I only needed one more week, but the doctors decided I had cooked long enough. They introduced chemicals into my mother's body that started her labor, imposing their timetable on life and violating my own rhythm with theirs. Since then, I have fought time, trying to get my balance before plunging into its swirling currents.
This year I turned forty. Forty. It doesn't seem to fit me well. It's a number, a measurement that carries with it so many connotations and preconceptions. Mouths stand agape when you tell them you're forty. "I didn't know you were that old," they say. I accept the compliment but can't help feeling the change in perception that comes with it. I've been put on the scales, weighed against other forty-somethings and found wanting. I squirm inside and resent my helplessness.
Forty also stands near the apex of the average life span, affording a unique view of the traveled trail and the road ahead. From this perspective I see that whether or not I feel steady on my feet and ready to take the plunge, I need to take better advantage of the time I have left. It's time to stop fighting the current, because it's carrying me along anyway. I am not free from the imperative to swim just because I've always felt thrown in the water. No one is going to pull me out, comfort me, and gently put me back in when I feel I'm ready. It's now or never.
I don't want to get frantic, though. That's what usually happens when I
haul up anchor and try to navigate the temporal current. I need to remember to breathe while I glide, and strabismus aside, I need to look ahead so I don't keep hitting rocks and submerged tree limbs. Life will always have its upsets, but looking away doesn't make them disappear.
I don't know how much time I have left, but it's time to stop wasting it.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
The Beauty of a Tadpole
I attended an Art and Spirituality workshop today given by Dave Corbett and hosted by Trinity Episcopal Church. There were many moments in those few hours that impressed me, but there's one in particular about which I've chosen to blog.
As our final project, we were invited to work on a tryptich, a three-paneled piece of art often used on altars and other sacred structures, using things cut out of magazines. There were several issues of National Geographic there and I chose one with Da Vinci's Last Supper on the cover, thinking that would provide some great religious images to use.
What really struck me most, however, was an image of two tadpoles with a caption elucidating how those beings wouldn't eat until they had reabsorbed their tails. What are they? How does it feel to have this mighty mutation occur?
These massive changes alter their very being. The journey from tadpole to frog doesn't last long but, barring outside genetic manipulation, is irreversible. It made me think of being a teen-ager. And it made me aware of my own greatly-protracted personal metamorphosis. I pondered what it was like to be Mormon and gay, how long I straddled the fence and how hard I fought not to lose the parts of myself I valued while I lost my innocence. I wondered if it ever ends.
The answer is that it never does, not for us or the tadpoles. Although there are periods of outer stasis, inside things are constantly changing or gearing up for change. Life is change as is death. We are all part of a larger cycle of life. To try to cling to one stage of development or another is to deny life itself.
Until today, if I thought of tadpoles at all, I thought they were mildly repulsive. Now they are one of the most beautiful creatures in the world.
As our final project, we were invited to work on a tryptich, a three-paneled piece of art often used on altars and other sacred structures, using things cut out of magazines. There were several issues of National Geographic there and I chose one with Da Vinci's Last Supper on the cover, thinking that would provide some great religious images to use.
What really struck me most, however, was an image of two tadpoles with a caption elucidating how those beings wouldn't eat until they had reabsorbed their tails. What are they? How does it feel to have this mighty mutation occur?
These massive changes alter their very being. The journey from tadpole to frog doesn't last long but, barring outside genetic manipulation, is irreversible. It made me think of being a teen-ager. And it made me aware of my own greatly-protracted personal metamorphosis. I pondered what it was like to be Mormon and gay, how long I straddled the fence and how hard I fought not to lose the parts of myself I valued while I lost my innocence. I wondered if it ever ends.
The answer is that it never does, not for us or the tadpoles. Although there are periods of outer stasis, inside things are constantly changing or gearing up for change. Life is change as is death. We are all part of a larger cycle of life. To try to cling to one stage of development or another is to deny life itself.
Until today, if I thought of tadpoles at all, I thought they were mildly repulsive. Now they are one of the most beautiful creatures in the world.
Monday, July 29, 2013
A Stray Piece Finds Its Home
This was originally written and posted as a Facebook note on May 6, 2009. I'm posting it here because it relates to the blog topic (and especially the post A Riff on Abinadai)...and because I knew I had written it and couldn't remember where I put it. It marked the beginning of a spiritual re-birth for me, and it was a lesson I'm still learning into my soul. Now, it's where it belongs:
"After reading an essay in the book Peculiar People, I got to thinking about a verse that has been a sort of talisman of mine for years. My interpretation of it was basic to my understanding of the order of things. I understand it differently now and my world is changed.
Mosiah 3:19 says that "the natural man is an enemy to God." I've used those words to justify my considerable self-hatred for years. This morning, for the first time, I looked at the words around that bold declaration to understand its context. The entire chapter is King Benjamin's effort to convince the people of Christ's coming, an event that wasn't yet a fait accompli in this temporal continuum. He was addressing their "natural" problem believing in things they couldn't see. Viewed in this way, the carnal condition isn't so much having desires relating to the flesh as it is being limited by that flesh, unable to "see" things with an inner, spiritual eye. This spiritual vision is the only way for us, in our telestial state, to sense Christ and believe Him. Believing Christ is, of course, crucial to transcending the conditions of mortality. Those who cling to their limited mortal sight are condemning themselves to misery and death.
In my set of scriptures, which I have had since I was 12, this verse is boxed off in red pen. In isolating this verse in my book from the rest of the words around it, I have done the same thing in my mind and heart, distorting the verse's deeper meaning. I have wrested the scriptures without even realizing it. Of course, I had help since this is a favorite verse for many Church members to quote, ignorantly beating themselves and their brothers and sisters over the head. Having said that, I feel a deep need to repent of my lack of trust in Christ's love. He says over and over not to fear, and that the most important thing is love. I hope this seemingly subtle paradigm shift will help me to finally and fully receive Him. I already feel a connection with the me I thought I had lost, and I have hope."
"After reading an essay in the book Peculiar People, I got to thinking about a verse that has been a sort of talisman of mine for years. My interpretation of it was basic to my understanding of the order of things. I understand it differently now and my world is changed.
Mosiah 3:19 says that "the natural man is an enemy to God." I've used those words to justify my considerable self-hatred for years. This morning, for the first time, I looked at the words around that bold declaration to understand its context. The entire chapter is King Benjamin's effort to convince the people of Christ's coming, an event that wasn't yet a fait accompli in this temporal continuum. He was addressing their "natural" problem believing in things they couldn't see. Viewed in this way, the carnal condition isn't so much having desires relating to the flesh as it is being limited by that flesh, unable to "see" things with an inner, spiritual eye. This spiritual vision is the only way for us, in our telestial state, to sense Christ and believe Him. Believing Christ is, of course, crucial to transcending the conditions of mortality. Those who cling to their limited mortal sight are condemning themselves to misery and death.
In my set of scriptures, which I have had since I was 12, this verse is boxed off in red pen. In isolating this verse in my book from the rest of the words around it, I have done the same thing in my mind and heart, distorting the verse's deeper meaning. I have wrested the scriptures without even realizing it. Of course, I had help since this is a favorite verse for many Church members to quote, ignorantly beating themselves and their brothers and sisters over the head. Having said that, I feel a deep need to repent of my lack of trust in Christ's love. He says over and over not to fear, and that the most important thing is love. I hope this seemingly subtle paradigm shift will help me to finally and fully receive Him. I already feel a connection with the me I thought I had lost, and I have hope."
Monday, July 8, 2013
Spoiled Tomatoes and Irrational Blame
When I was a kid, I hated raw tomatoes. Their taste and texture made me
squirm, inside and out. Thoughts of eating raw tomatoes made me want to vomit.
Raw tomatoes were icky.
There are those who have the same feelings about gay people. Thoughts of gay people expressing physical affection for each other cause them a visceral reaction. Gay people are labeled an abomination because of this reaction. In other words, gay people are icky.
I am icky. I am an abomination. I am gay.
I first came to understand this connection when I looked up the word "abomination" in the LDS Bible Dictionary. There I found that an abomination is "an object that excites loathing." It goes on to say that the "word is also used to denote any heathen or immoral practice; also the flesh of prohibited animals." As I recently found out, that definition traces the history of the word.
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the English root abominable was first seen with this spelling as a French word derived from the Latin abominabilis. That Latin word in its active form is abominari. The first word means "deserving imprecation or abhorrence." The second means "to deprecate as an ill omen." (The words imprecate and deprecate both deal with prayer to a higher power, usually to ward something off.) Dissected further, ab means "away" or "off" and omin is a cognate of the English word omen. So, originally, if something was abominable, it was a bad omen and the superstitious Romans would pray to the gods for it to be driven away or destroyed.
Thus, according to this usage of “abomination,” gay people are an ill omen, signifying society's downfall, rather than actually bringing it about, as they’ve been accused. They are merely a symptom of the disease. The destruction of a civilization usually involves devastating pain and heartache, so it's understandable that people would be afraid. Even generations afterward, traces of a cataclysm can be seen in people, such as hoarding in the grandchildren of those who lived through the Great Depression. However, those pointing the fingers should take a good, hard look at themselves since greed and the corruption it inspires are the true culprits when any civilization crumbles.
In the Middle Ages, the word was also being spelled abhominable which was either derived from or led to an erroneous etymology, ab meaning "away" and homin meaning "man." To act "away from man" was interpreted as doing something beastly. It was this new, altered connotation that found its way into the King James translation of the Bible and has permeated our cultural discourse regarding homosexuality ever since.
Even though there are many icky things, the abomination tag has clung tenaciously and unfairly to homosexuality. (It's a little ironic since, in the case of gay men, it's an attraction to men that's the issue.) Basically, a bunch of Medieval scholars and theologians, when translating the Bible, had a gut feeling that gay people were icky, as well as the lightning rod for God’s wrath in any society’s demise, so that meant that God thought gay people were icky and had better be killed or their cooties would spread. I wonder how many times the visceral reactions of straight “holy men” have been misinterpreted as inspiration from God.
Spencer W. Kimball, former president of the LDS church wrote: "Homosexuality is an ugly sin, repugnant to those who find no temptation in it, as well as to many past offenders who are seeking a way out of its clutches." (The Miracle of Forgiveness, pg. 78) He, of course, used scripture such as Lev. 20:13 to support his point. At one point in my life, I was one of those past offenders who found the gay in me repugnant, which is a nice way to say I hated myself. This is how I get why many people hate me, too.
But gut reactions are tricky things. They are often good to follow, but they are also often misleading, causing us to run straight into danger or preventing us from taking chances that result in great things. Tomatoes, as it turns out, are very nutritious and quite tasty, even raw. The trick is not to refrigerate them because it changes their taste and texture. In the same way, gay people are often integral, contributing members of a healthy society. A few are occasionally spoiled, but as the Osmonds sang so long ago, “One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch.” Fewer gay people would spoil if they weren’t bruised by the heavy “abomination” label, chilled out of society by an unreasonable aversion. More often than not, when someone gets to know a gay person that hasn’t been embittered by persecution or made defensive by labels, they come to enjoy that person’s company and value what they have to contribute to the community.
Maybe I'm not that icky after all.
There are those who have the same feelings about gay people. Thoughts of gay people expressing physical affection for each other cause them a visceral reaction. Gay people are labeled an abomination because of this reaction. In other words, gay people are icky.
I am icky. I am an abomination. I am gay.
I first came to understand this connection when I looked up the word "abomination" in the LDS Bible Dictionary. There I found that an abomination is "an object that excites loathing." It goes on to say that the "word is also used to denote any heathen or immoral practice; also the flesh of prohibited animals." As I recently found out, that definition traces the history of the word.
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the English root abominable was first seen with this spelling as a French word derived from the Latin abominabilis. That Latin word in its active form is abominari. The first word means "deserving imprecation or abhorrence." The second means "to deprecate as an ill omen." (The words imprecate and deprecate both deal with prayer to a higher power, usually to ward something off.) Dissected further, ab means "away" or "off" and omin is a cognate of the English word omen. So, originally, if something was abominable, it was a bad omen and the superstitious Romans would pray to the gods for it to be driven away or destroyed.
Thus, according to this usage of “abomination,” gay people are an ill omen, signifying society's downfall, rather than actually bringing it about, as they’ve been accused. They are merely a symptom of the disease. The destruction of a civilization usually involves devastating pain and heartache, so it's understandable that people would be afraid. Even generations afterward, traces of a cataclysm can be seen in people, such as hoarding in the grandchildren of those who lived through the Great Depression. However, those pointing the fingers should take a good, hard look at themselves since greed and the corruption it inspires are the true culprits when any civilization crumbles.
In the Middle Ages, the word was also being spelled abhominable which was either derived from or led to an erroneous etymology, ab meaning "away" and homin meaning "man." To act "away from man" was interpreted as doing something beastly. It was this new, altered connotation that found its way into the King James translation of the Bible and has permeated our cultural discourse regarding homosexuality ever since.
Even though there are many icky things, the abomination tag has clung tenaciously and unfairly to homosexuality. (It's a little ironic since, in the case of gay men, it's an attraction to men that's the issue.) Basically, a bunch of Medieval scholars and theologians, when translating the Bible, had a gut feeling that gay people were icky, as well as the lightning rod for God’s wrath in any society’s demise, so that meant that God thought gay people were icky and had better be killed or their cooties would spread. I wonder how many times the visceral reactions of straight “holy men” have been misinterpreted as inspiration from God.
Spencer W. Kimball, former president of the LDS church wrote: "Homosexuality is an ugly sin, repugnant to those who find no temptation in it, as well as to many past offenders who are seeking a way out of its clutches." (The Miracle of Forgiveness, pg. 78) He, of course, used scripture such as Lev. 20:13 to support his point. At one point in my life, I was one of those past offenders who found the gay in me repugnant, which is a nice way to say I hated myself. This is how I get why many people hate me, too.
But gut reactions are tricky things. They are often good to follow, but they are also often misleading, causing us to run straight into danger or preventing us from taking chances that result in great things. Tomatoes, as it turns out, are very nutritious and quite tasty, even raw. The trick is not to refrigerate them because it changes their taste and texture. In the same way, gay people are often integral, contributing members of a healthy society. A few are occasionally spoiled, but as the Osmonds sang so long ago, “One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch.” Fewer gay people would spoil if they weren’t bruised by the heavy “abomination” label, chilled out of society by an unreasonable aversion. More often than not, when someone gets to know a gay person that hasn’t been embittered by persecution or made defensive by labels, they come to enjoy that person’s company and value what they have to contribute to the community.
Maybe I'm not that icky after all.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
A Peace of Information
Friday was a really good day.
I found out the tumor in my head is more bean-sized than golf ball-sized. It's quite possible that I won't have surgery to remove it. And I have a lot of really amazing doctors contributing to the treatment plan.
Fear more often than not involves something unknown. Even if you're afraid of something you know will hurt, once you know how bad it hurts, you can grit your teeth and deal with the pain. (Or you can scream. Screaming is good if you support it properly. In any case, it's not something you have to fear anymore. You can choose to, but choosing to fear something is different altogether.)
Indiscriminate information can be a dangerous thing. Doing research on my own to prepare myself for the worst made me pretty anxious. Now, after the uncertainty of the last few weeks, I finally have some answers. What a relief that is! There are still questions left to investigate and things left to endure, but it's not nearly as bad as it could be.
I could be living with this the rest of my life, so I've thought about naming the tumor George. Nameless things usually inspire more fear. It's not a done deal, though. The thing in my head is not so much a foreign body deserving of a separate name as it is an overly exuberant creation of my own body.
"Sweet is the peace the Gospel brings..." and this was certainly "Good News."
I found out the tumor in my head is more bean-sized than golf ball-sized. It's quite possible that I won't have surgery to remove it. And I have a lot of really amazing doctors contributing to the treatment plan.
Fear more often than not involves something unknown. Even if you're afraid of something you know will hurt, once you know how bad it hurts, you can grit your teeth and deal with the pain. (Or you can scream. Screaming is good if you support it properly. In any case, it's not something you have to fear anymore. You can choose to, but choosing to fear something is different altogether.)
Indiscriminate information can be a dangerous thing. Doing research on my own to prepare myself for the worst made me pretty anxious. Now, after the uncertainty of the last few weeks, I finally have some answers. What a relief that is! There are still questions left to investigate and things left to endure, but it's not nearly as bad as it could be.
I could be living with this the rest of my life, so I've thought about naming the tumor George. Nameless things usually inspire more fear. It's not a done deal, though. The thing in my head is not so much a foreign body deserving of a separate name as it is an overly exuberant creation of my own body.
"Sweet is the peace the Gospel brings..." and this was certainly "Good News."
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Grandma Was Right
During the time I was living with my grandmother, I was being treated for depression. Grandma didn't seem to understand why I was taking medication and seeing a therapist. She said the best therapy she'd ever found for depression was work.
Although I heard what she said, I didn't take her words to heart. I thought that using work to help with depression was only masking what was wrong and wouldn't do any good.
It turns out my grandma was right. Although work doesn't cure depression, it is an excellent distraction and often allows for "processing" in the background of conscious thought.
Things in my life are really messy right now. I've been feeling the walls close in. Working this morning at the library has pushed the walls back just a little and allowed me to breathe. Grandma, you were right and I'm sorry I didn't listen earlier.
Although I heard what she said, I didn't take her words to heart. I thought that using work to help with depression was only masking what was wrong and wouldn't do any good.
It turns out my grandma was right. Although work doesn't cure depression, it is an excellent distraction and often allows for "processing" in the background of conscious thought.
Things in my life are really messy right now. I've been feeling the walls close in. Working this morning at the library has pushed the walls back just a little and allowed me to breathe. Grandma, you were right and I'm sorry I didn't listen earlier.
Monday, June 3, 2013
I'm a Schizophrenic...and Violets are Blue
Long ago, I heard a rhyme that went like this:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I'm a schizophrenic
And so am I.
I've known for a long time that my ability to see many points of view was related to my essentially divided nature. This morning, I came to understand another facet of this Great Divide inside of me, something that has been gnawing at me for a long time.
I am a very liberal thinker and a narrow-minded religious fanatic. Over the past three weeks, I have read What's Wrong with Homosexuality? by John Corvino and am reading Banished by Lauren Drain. One is a philosophical defense of the morality of homosexuality and the other is a memoir of a young girl's involvement with and banishment from the Westboro Baptist Church. Reading them at the same time understandably has caused me some cognitive dissonance, although until this morning I couldn't nail down just why.
It was while reading yet another of Niki Taysom's* e-mail epistles to undisclosed recipients that I understood, to my amazement and consternation, what was bothering me so much. I agreed with many of the things she said, and I agreed with many of the things that were taught to Lauren Drain in the WBC. The problem is I also agree with many of the things Mr. Corvino asserts in his book, not to mention the other "liberal" views I hold.
This psychic split was cultured in me from my childhood. Although "Jesus said love everyone, treat them kindly too," He also said "Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, Nay; but rather division: For from henceforth there shall be five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three. The father shall be divided against the son and the son against the father; the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother; the mother in law against her daughter in law, and her daughter in law against her mother in law." (Luke 12: 51 - 53) Love everyone, but keep your distance if they don't live according to your understanding of righteousness. "You can't play in the mud puddle without getting dirty." How does a young person deal with such contradictory messages?
I see the consequences of wickedness everywhere. The fallout from greed, duplicity, and selfishness is thick in the air and on the ground, literally and figuratively. Many of those who point these things out are branded as radicals and are swept aside as handily as possible. Weren't prophets often persecuted for telling the truth? Wasn't Noah labeled a crazy man for building the ark? What is the line between following God and insanity?
Someone very close to me was diagnosed with an obsessive compulsive religiosity disorder. I saw firsthand what listening to the voices in one's head can turn into. I began to doubt my own ability to sort out all the voices and started shutting them out.
What does God really want from me? How can I know? Are the dangerous courses of action I sometimes feel pushed to follow really His paths? There are too many voices and I'm tired of being the rope in their tug-of-war.
At the moment, I'm definitely not all one peace, and contrary to the answers provided by the hymn, I don't know where I can turn for it, or if I can trust what I think I'm turning to.
*Niki Taysom is one of Pocatello's self-appointed coal mine canaries. She was excommunicated from the LDS church and divorced from her husband, has been involuntarily committed more than once, and attends every city council meeting. She regularly blasts Church leaders for the way they've strayed from the truth, our city council for their corrupt and socialist doings, and anyone else who doesn't live as she thinks they should. She'd be right at home in the Westboro Baptist Church except for her belief in the calling of Joseph Smith.
http://www.amazon.com/Banished-Surviving-Westboro-Baptist-Church/dp/1455512427/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370281909&sr=8-1&keywords=lauren+drain
http://www.amazon.com/Whats-Wrong-Homosexuality-Philosophy-Action/dp/0199856311/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1370281948&sr=1-1&keywords=john+corvino
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I'm a schizophrenic
And so am I.
I've known for a long time that my ability to see many points of view was related to my essentially divided nature. This morning, I came to understand another facet of this Great Divide inside of me, something that has been gnawing at me for a long time.
I am a very liberal thinker and a narrow-minded religious fanatic. Over the past three weeks, I have read What's Wrong with Homosexuality? by John Corvino and am reading Banished by Lauren Drain. One is a philosophical defense of the morality of homosexuality and the other is a memoir of a young girl's involvement with and banishment from the Westboro Baptist Church. Reading them at the same time understandably has caused me some cognitive dissonance, although until this morning I couldn't nail down just why.
It was while reading yet another of Niki Taysom's* e-mail epistles to undisclosed recipients that I understood, to my amazement and consternation, what was bothering me so much. I agreed with many of the things she said, and I agreed with many of the things that were taught to Lauren Drain in the WBC. The problem is I also agree with many of the things Mr. Corvino asserts in his book, not to mention the other "liberal" views I hold.
This psychic split was cultured in me from my childhood. Although "Jesus said love everyone, treat them kindly too," He also said "Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, Nay; but rather division: For from henceforth there shall be five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three. The father shall be divided against the son and the son against the father; the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother; the mother in law against her daughter in law, and her daughter in law against her mother in law." (Luke 12: 51 - 53) Love everyone, but keep your distance if they don't live according to your understanding of righteousness. "You can't play in the mud puddle without getting dirty." How does a young person deal with such contradictory messages?
I see the consequences of wickedness everywhere. The fallout from greed, duplicity, and selfishness is thick in the air and on the ground, literally and figuratively. Many of those who point these things out are branded as radicals and are swept aside as handily as possible. Weren't prophets often persecuted for telling the truth? Wasn't Noah labeled a crazy man for building the ark? What is the line between following God and insanity?
Someone very close to me was diagnosed with an obsessive compulsive religiosity disorder. I saw firsthand what listening to the voices in one's head can turn into. I began to doubt my own ability to sort out all the voices and started shutting them out.
What does God really want from me? How can I know? Are the dangerous courses of action I sometimes feel pushed to follow really His paths? There are too many voices and I'm tired of being the rope in their tug-of-war.
At the moment, I'm definitely not all one peace, and contrary to the answers provided by the hymn, I don't know where I can turn for it, or if I can trust what I think I'm turning to.
*Niki Taysom is one of Pocatello's self-appointed coal mine canaries. She was excommunicated from the LDS church and divorced from her husband, has been involuntarily committed more than once, and attends every city council meeting. She regularly blasts Church leaders for the way they've strayed from the truth, our city council for their corrupt and socialist doings, and anyone else who doesn't live as she thinks they should. She'd be right at home in the Westboro Baptist Church except for her belief in the calling of Joseph Smith.
http://www.amazon.com/Banished-Surviving-Westboro-Baptist-Church/dp/1455512427/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370281909&sr=8-1&keywords=lauren+drain
http://www.amazon.com/Whats-Wrong-Homosexuality-Philosophy-Action/dp/0199856311/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1370281948&sr=1-1&keywords=john+corvino
Thursday, May 30, 2013
One Piece Too Many
Last Thursday, I was taking a quick lunch at Taco Bell with Chris when Dr. Kennedy, my neurologist, called. To make a long story short, after sending my scans to doctors around the country, I have been tentatively diagnosed with non-cancerous meningioma. In layman's terms, I have a tumor in the lining around my brain. It is near my pituitary gland and pressing on the optic nerve bundle for my left eye, inhibiting muscle response and causing a condition known as strabismus. I am being referred to Doctor William Couldwell in Salt Lake City for further treatment.
I'm not as frightened today as I was during the weekend. I've had a little time to process the information I was given, although I'm really anxious to see this new doctor so I can get some more answers. I'd also like to see the scans showing this remote mote in my eye. Or is it a beam? Either way, I'd really like to be able to see clearly again.
I've often wondered if there isn't a spiritual connection between my vision troubles and my choice to ignore the Church's stand on gay sexual activity. Chris articulated one of my fears for me on the drive to Idaho Falls Monday morning. He mentioned personality changes that occur with brain tumors and brain surgery. "What if you wake up and you're not gay anymore?" What if, indeed. Apparently, for all my reading and experience over the last few years, I'm in as many peaces now as I ever was.
I'm not as frightened today as I was during the weekend. I've had a little time to process the information I was given, although I'm really anxious to see this new doctor so I can get some more answers. I'd also like to see the scans showing this remote mote in my eye. Or is it a beam? Either way, I'd really like to be able to see clearly again.
I've often wondered if there isn't a spiritual connection between my vision troubles and my choice to ignore the Church's stand on gay sexual activity. Chris articulated one of my fears for me on the drive to Idaho Falls Monday morning. He mentioned personality changes that occur with brain tumors and brain surgery. "What if you wake up and you're not gay anymore?" What if, indeed. Apparently, for all my reading and experience over the last few years, I'm in as many peaces now as I ever was.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Bigger Than a Million Pride Parades
There is a custom in the LDS church for the patriarch of one's Stake to give a special blessing to those who request it. It's kind of like a personal communique from God. I am instructed in mine to walk in the right path so
others would know they would be safe to follow me. That admonition has stayed
with me and often kept me from doing things I might
have later regretted. It has also weighed heavily on me as I’ve followed a path
other than the one I was taught. That’s why the following message from a
friend, sent via Facebook, filled me with a number of conflicting emotions:
Just wanted to say that
I loved the article you posted. […] I think Prop 8 was when many of us were
forced to take a stand one way or another. My stake was one of the ones asked
to make phone calls to people in California
Side note: although I
knew and was friends with plenty of gay people before, you were the first
person who came out who I trusted to make good decisions for yourself. I know
it sounds incredibly judgmental of me, but it is what it is. When I found out
that you were gay, it was different—it became a real thing in my mind. I knew
it must have been an incredibly difficult decision for you, and I knew you
lived a life close to God. This wasn’t a choice that you had made lightly, and
you weren’t just “confused” or trying to get attention. Because I had known and
respected you for so long, I suddenly had to take this whole homosexual thing
seriously.
So back to making phone
calls to California Trent
So…I didn’t make the
phone calls in California , and when gay
marriage came up on the Washington ballot last
year (I can still vote in the state of Washington
And this whole long
story is mean [sic.] to explain
to you why I suggested you[…]and everyone else keep sharing your stories. Your personal
story had a bigger impact on my personal prejudices than a million gay pride
parades.
I’ve known
this person since we were children. As I read her message I was reminded yet
again of my father’s words. Suddenly there was doubt. Was I leading people in
unsafe paths? Was the way I live my life causing people to stray from the true
faith? What was I going to have to account for when I faced God?
Yet, I
couldn’t help feeling some gratification, even vindication. Her
beautifully-worded final sentence made me smile. I’ve sometimes been told I
should get angry and assert myself, facing down those who oppose me with fire
and force. I’ve specifically been criticized for the way I choose to support “The
Cause.” My friend confirms for me yet again that angry militancy changes
nothing for the better. Unconditional love and mutual respect will always go
further in uniting hearts and minds to heal the world than any flamboyant or
violent “in-your-face” display.
All those
voices, inner and outer, telling me I had abandoned my calling and betrayed my
gifts aren’t necessarily right. Being a true follower of Christ isn’t easy and
it involves a lot of stepping out into the darkness, identifying and trusting
the right inner voice to lead the way. It’s a struggle for me, too.
The
blessing the Patriarch gave me is being fulfilled after all. It doesn’t involve me
being some great bishop or stake president or any kind of leader, Church or
otherwise. I’m simply doing my best to understand and heed what the light
inside is telling me to do and then telling my story as authentically as I can.
If that helps others to follow the light inside them, I’m glad.
When I
face my Savior, I know I’ll have things to account for. Hopefully, I won’t
suffer for them too long. In the end, I trust His love and grace to make up the
difference after I’ve done all I can do.
We’re all
in this together and I’m really glad my friend reached out to share her story. In
doing so, she helped me continue to trust the light I feel and become all one
peace.
[This post was concurrently published on my companion blog From Where I Stand.]
[This post was concurrently published on my companion blog From Where I Stand.]
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Embraceable Me
On February 18, I shared an article from The Huffington Post on Facebook that reflected on the impact religious organizations have on young gay people. I commented that the past couldn't be changed but that I often wondered what life would be like for me now if my church had embraced me for who I was. These are some of the things that come to my mind during these musings.
It was pretty obvious when I was a child there was the possibility I would be gay. Although I chased the Baldwin girls around the Moreland church's lawn in a game of kiss tag, I also loved to style the hair on a doll. By the time I was 5, I was kissing boys on the cheek in kindergarten and playing dress up with my cousins by wearing a certain purple skirt that I loved. I continued to crush on girls through my early adolescence but it became clear that it was the guys that sexually turned me on.
I was 12 when I learned that the church had excommunicated my uncle for acting on his homosexual desires, not for drinking alcohol as I'd been allowed to believe for six years. Two years later, I had my first taste of church discipline when I told my bishop I had been engaging in same-sex sexual play with boys my own age since I was 8. I was given a copy of The Miracle of Forgiveness, told to read it, and not discuss this with anyone but my folks. To make a long story short, encouragement to rid myself of these tendencies came at me from every corner, especially from the church. I was also highly encouraged to be interested in girls.
It was also during this time that I discovered my love for and ability in musical theatre and vocal music. I wanted to be a stage performer so badly my soul ached. I was vigorously discouraged from pursuing my desire by authority figures in my life. I was told that that was precisely how my uncle had "fallen away." Trying to make a living in that wicked world was only going to further corrupt me, and besides, how was I going to support a family living such an economically uncertain life?
Usually, if a teen discovers a deep-seeded passion for an art or a science, this is encouraged and nurtured. Given the right support, such individuals often become influential leaders in their fields of endeavor as they pass through high school and college. Basically what I'm trying to say here is, to quote Rocky, I think "I coulda' been a contenda' " in the field of performing arts. Although I fought my way through and am now deeply involved in music making in my community, I think there could have been much more. I am often seen by others as an example of thwarted potential and I'm not sure they're wrong.
When I was a priest, I had the opportunity to ordain a special young man to the Aaronic Priesthood in my ward. As I did so, I gave him a blessing that I knew came through me from God. Conveying God's love isn't hard when it's your basic nature to love anyway. When the ordination was over, the feeling in the room was powerful, many people were in tears and the bishop patted me on the back and told me I had a gift. I still have that gift to give, but the church won't accept it from me. I feel like there are so many ways I could be helpful and would like to serve, but unless I end the loving, committed relationship I'm in, severely wounding the wonderful young man I'm committed to, my gift is unacceptable. So what is the most loving course of action here?
Let me make one thing clear: I do not hate or demonize the LDS church. I am realistic about what it is and its place in my life. It's been over ten years since I was an active member, and this distance has given me a different appreciation than I would have had of the church's felicities and its foibles. (Ten points anyone for using and alliterating those words in a blog post?) Every religious organization has them and the view of them changes depending on your proximity to that body. I just wonder if I would have had as many peaces to put together had my experience with the church been different, and I sometimes wonder if there will ever be a time when my gifts will again be welcomed there.
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