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.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
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
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
Sunday, April 10, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
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?
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?
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