Brothers

My dad was born a triplet, though only two of the three survived infancy. From all accounts I've heard of their lives before I came along, they always shared a special bond, as twins often do. It's been deeply moving to watch that bond as Kay comes in to sit with Dad or check on him periodically. Their connection goes beyond brotherhood to something deeper, something more profound than I'll ever likely know. I'm so grateful Dad has had recourse to that source of strength as he's struggled to recover from what his body's been through in the last week.

How does this relate to the theme of this blog? My relationship with my father is elemental to my pieces, and finding peace with him is crucial to being all one peace.

Mirror, Mirror

At the gym today, a guy got onto the machine next to mine while I was in the final few minutes of my workout. Everything about his appearance screamed Peter Priesthood Return-Missionary, from his crisp T-shirt and haircut to the "7-Habits"-type book he had brought with him to read. I finished my workout, went to the cleaning station to get paper towels, and on the way back, caught myself thinking derogatory things about this perfect stranger. I mentally derided his time efficiency. What a show-off! Bringing a book about how to increase his productivity while exerting himself on a machine that climbed to nowhere obviously showed what a stick-up-his-you-know-what, self-righteous, pretentious...and that's when it hit me.

I cleaned my machine in silence, stunned by what I'd just heard myself think. I didn't even know this guy! Where was all this mental bile coming from? It didn't take much self-analysis to realize this guy was the embodiment of what I'd been told I was supposed to be all through my adolescence. In fact, from his appearance, he was what everyone I grew up with assumed I was. I had tried so hard to be this guy and failed miserably...several times. I resented his existence. He was too good to be true. No one was that guy. There was always some hideous flaw hidden under the perfect surface.

And I stopped myself again. Obviously my problem wasn't with this stranger innocently chugging away on his elliptical stair-climber, but with myself. If I truly want to be a happy whole, I thought, there has to be a reckoning and a reconciliation. Self-hatred often manifests itself in hostility to others. What to do?

As it is in most of life's dilemmas, love was and is the answer. I need to love both Peter Priesthood and myself. In fact, taking a page from His book, in loving and serving others, one finds love for ones self. I can address both the symptoms and the disease. The next time I catch myself thinking unkind or outright vicious things about someone else, I can stop and find love in my heart for them. I can find ways to serve that person, if it's merely through courtesy if not something greater. The next time I think derisively about myself, I can stop and find love for myself through service for others and in other ways. It really is that simple.

There is more that could be said here, but this is sufficient for now, as one more small piece of me joins the others in peace.

Ice Chips

The helpless feeling I mentioned in my last post was greatly ameliorated today by the several opportunities I had to feed my dad ice chips and bring him water to sip. It's amazing how much joy I find in being able to carry out the smallest acts of service for him. I'm grateful for the opportunity to give back a little of what Dad has given me.

Stirring the Pot

I had a discussion two days ago with an uncle in the EIRMC surgical waiting room while my dad was undergoing his second surgery in a week. Discussions like these usually cause my internal existential debate to erupt from a low simmer on the back burner of my soul to a rolling boil right at the front of the range. I think it’s an indicator of where my soul is that I’m not more upset. I also think that arching over the experience is the love my uncle was showing by just being there with my mom and me, which made the discussion easier to bear.

It all sprang from a conversation I was having with this uncle, whom I’ll call “Bob” for now, about his younger son, who is my age. “Bob” had decided not to go with this younger son on a motor bike trip up the Big Butte because his back was bothering him, and he didn’t want to take the chance of having it go out while he was in a remote area. This led to the topic of growing older, and my uncle threw out the term “safely dead.” Although it felt like a lure, I decided to take the bait anyway. Of course, to die safely, a phrase used by an LDS prophet, meant to be as obedient to the commandments as you could and repent when you fell short of that ideal, so that when you left this life, you wouldn’t be in danger of exclusion from God’s presence.

I watched him carefully while he said all this, trying to gauge his intent and decide what the best reaction would be. I know he’s not comfortable that I’m gay. “Bob’s” son has told me that he thinks I should be able to overcome being gay, if I even really am, so I was pretty sure this speech was for me. I think he was also gauging my reaction as well. When I didn’t get angry or combative, he went on to tell me that he personally believed that progression continued after this life and that we would be sent where we were most comfortable. He illustrated this by saying that he wasn’t a part of the bar crowd so he isn’t comfortable in their company and they aren’t comfortable in his. It would be the same way in the afterlife: people would keep company with those whom they felt most comfortable with. (This example also felt pointed. I don’t think he knows that I’ve been in a monogamous relationship for the last five months, and that I haven’t been part of the “bar crowd” for years now.) This was his way of telling me he still had some hope for me. It was very backhanded, but I appreciated the compassion he was endeavoring to show.

I don’t think this exchange would have registered with me at all if I wasn’t feeling so powerless at that moment. It was also painfully apparent to me that I couldn’t provide comfort in the way most meaningful to my dad. Because of my status with the LDS church, I can’t give him a blessing or utilize the Priesthood in any way. Feeling like a failure in that way is a constant, wearing thought in my heart. As many steps as I’ve made toward accepting myself for who I am now, the image of who I was supposed to be is still there, goading me and telling me I’ve fallen short.

Life keeps handing me experiences that don’t let me rest much until I truly am all one peace.

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.