Friday, October 28, 2011
we were here
WE WERE HERE (trailer) from David Weissman on Vimeo.
Last weekend I saw the documentary We Were Here about the outbreak of the AIDS crisis in San Francisco. It was a last minute decision to see it and it ended up being an excellent decision. One, because the director and producer of the film ended up being there for a Q&A afterwards and two, because the film was really fantastic.
It kind of amazes me that there isn't a whole lot of talk or exploration of the AIDS outbreak in the media nowadays. Maybe there is and I just haven't seen it, but it seems like it's a story that we're not really talking about or processing. During the Q&A, the director said that he has many friends who have said they don't want to watch it because they don't want to unearth the immense amount of pain and fear that was so prevalent at the time. There was one man in the audience who had lived in San Francisco during the outbreak and he commented on how healing it was to watch the film, to have that story given a voice in a very sensitive, thoughtful and respectful way.
It also occurred to me how much the story of the rise of SF as a gay capital of the US should resonate like crazy with Mormons. It's the story of a people who were rejected by their families and friends, who left home and gathered in one place where they felt like they could more safely be themselves. One of the reasons the Mormon pioneers were persecuted was because people were very uncomfortable with the way early Mormons tried to redefine marriage. (Also, I think one of the guys interviewed for the documentary and who appears in the trailer bears a resemblence to President Monson.)
It's not playing in many cities, but I'm sure you'll eventually be able to get it on Netflix, etc. Go here to see where and when it's playing and then go see it.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
my personal epiphany, my revelation
Tuesday was National Coming Out Day. I haven't been one to make grand sweeping announcements about my sexuality, probably because my experience of coming to terms with my sexuality in the context of my spiritual identity has been a sacred one. I knew early on, probably mostly subconsciously, that not everyone would appreciate my reasons for accepting and embracing my experience of attraction or my reasons for sharing my truth with others, so at first I only shared with those I loved and trusted. I think subconsciously I knew I needed to be able to gradually metabolize what I was experiencing in a safe space, cultivating my own comfort and confidence in self, before sharing my experience of who I am with more than just a safe and close circle of friends and family.
As I stated earlier, that process has been a sacred one. The amount of love and spirit that has flowed into my life as a result of opening myself up to others has been completely life altering in unexpected ways. I experienced a lot of fear and self doubt, disconnect from self and others and from God as a result of keeping myself safely concealed in a dark and isolated closet. I experience my attraction to men as a very real and natural part of myself, certainly not something I chose. In trying to shut down that part of myself, I didn't realize how much I was disconnecting myself from...myself. I learned early on not to trust my feelings or my instincts because I quickly observed from the culture I grew up in that what I did feel wasn't appropriate. It quickly became very easy to start doubting any other feelings or instincts I had, and that's where the disconnect from self began.
From there the disconnect spreads from relationship with self to relationships with others. Life becomes a game of not letting anyone get too close, for fear that they'll discover the secret. If you're really determined to keep the secret, you distance yourself from anything you might naturally find enjoyment in for fear of it being percieved as "too gay". No one is able to know the real you because you've become so disconnected from yourself that you don't even know the real you.
The disconnect from self and from others naturally leads to a disconnect from the spirit or whatever you find speaks truth to your soul. I believe my relationship with my Father in Heaven is heavily informed by the quality of my relationships with those around me. Feeling a detachment from self and others naturally leads to feeling a detachment from God and from truth.
So I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that when I decided to acknowledge and accept and embrace the truth of my existence and lean into the dissonance, that I would feel more connected to self. More connected to friends and family. More connected to the beautiful gift of personal revelation. That incredible gift that helps me understand who I am and what I'm capable of. The truth is though, that outpouring of the spirit is the opposite of what I expected. The irony is that I was actually already experiencing the worst case scenario that I thought would follow if I accepted and embraced my sexuality as a God given part of me. I was already living what I was afraid of. A disconnect from the divine. Little did I know of the beauty and love, resonance and rhythm that would flow into my life as a result of embracing what I feared.
The real beauty of my experience is that it isn't just my own and it certainly doesn't just belong to the homosexual. It's a narrative that belongs to all of us. As Jay Michealson quotes Olive Elaine Hannant and Chris Glaser in this absolutely beautiful piece from Religion Dispatches, "Coming out is a personal epiphany, a revelation" "a rite of vulnterability that reveals the sacred in our lives--our worth, our love, our lovemaking, our beloved, our community, our context of meaning, and our God."
As I stated earlier, that process has been a sacred one. The amount of love and spirit that has flowed into my life as a result of opening myself up to others has been completely life altering in unexpected ways. I experienced a lot of fear and self doubt, disconnect from self and others and from God as a result of keeping myself safely concealed in a dark and isolated closet. I experience my attraction to men as a very real and natural part of myself, certainly not something I chose. In trying to shut down that part of myself, I didn't realize how much I was disconnecting myself from...myself. I learned early on not to trust my feelings or my instincts because I quickly observed from the culture I grew up in that what I did feel wasn't appropriate. It quickly became very easy to start doubting any other feelings or instincts I had, and that's where the disconnect from self began.
From there the disconnect spreads from relationship with self to relationships with others. Life becomes a game of not letting anyone get too close, for fear that they'll discover the secret. If you're really determined to keep the secret, you distance yourself from anything you might naturally find enjoyment in for fear of it being percieved as "too gay". No one is able to know the real you because you've become so disconnected from yourself that you don't even know the real you.
The disconnect from self and from others naturally leads to a disconnect from the spirit or whatever you find speaks truth to your soul. I believe my relationship with my Father in Heaven is heavily informed by the quality of my relationships with those around me. Feeling a detachment from self and others naturally leads to feeling a detachment from God and from truth.
So I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that when I decided to acknowledge and accept and embrace the truth of my existence and lean into the dissonance, that I would feel more connected to self. More connected to friends and family. More connected to the beautiful gift of personal revelation. That incredible gift that helps me understand who I am and what I'm capable of. The truth is though, that outpouring of the spirit is the opposite of what I expected. The irony is that I was actually already experiencing the worst case scenario that I thought would follow if I accepted and embraced my sexuality as a God given part of me. I was already living what I was afraid of. A disconnect from the divine. Little did I know of the beauty and love, resonance and rhythm that would flow into my life as a result of embracing what I feared.
The real beauty of my experience is that it isn't just my own and it certainly doesn't just belong to the homosexual. It's a narrative that belongs to all of us. As Jay Michealson quotes Olive Elaine Hannant and Chris Glaser in this absolutely beautiful piece from Religion Dispatches, "Coming out is a personal epiphany, a revelation" "a rite of vulnterability that reveals the sacred in our lives--our worth, our love, our lovemaking, our beloved, our community, our context of meaning, and our God."
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
pathological altruism
I love this article from the New York Times about pathological altruism. It reminds me of when I was first called as the ward mission leader in my young single adult ward. I wasn't too stoked about the calling because I've never been too stoked about missionary work. If someone approaches me with questions about Mormonism, I'm happy to answer them, but I realize that sometimes it's just an intellectual pursuit on the part of the other person and not necessarily someone shopping for a new religion. People at work often come to me with their questions about Mormonism because they know I won't consequently try to get them to come to church with me, and they know I won't be offended by their questions. They also know that I'll be honest with them about things the church does or has done that I don't agree with.
Anyway, when I was called as ward mission leader, there were two girls who were baptized right around the same time. The elders were really gunning for a baptism and sort of pushed things through before the girls knew what they were committing to. They never came back to church after getting baptized.
There was a concerted effort to bring them back. Phone calls and texts were made, treats were delivered, surprise visits were made. They still didn't come back. At a ward missionary correlation meeting (or whatever they're called) I suggested that maybe we should just leave them alone. In the real world, if I try to pursue a relationship with another person, be it romantic, platonic or otherwise, if I don't get any kind of a response from the other person (if they seem to be avoiding me), I figure they need some space and I back off. I couldn't understand why the same shouldn't apply to these girls. My suggestion wasn't very well received.
The article I linked to calls it selflessness run amok. I think it's more like selfishness masquerading as selflessness. We are certain that what we are doing is in the person's best interests, but we fail to stop and consider how much of what we are doing is to benefit ourselves rather then the person we think we're helping. Sometimes we're trying to assuage our own guilt, or avoid facing our own doubts, or take your pick of any number of ulterior motives. The tricky part is that we're not always conscious of our motives. We can be very good at deceiving ourselves about what our true motives are.
Anyway, when I was called as ward mission leader, there were two girls who were baptized right around the same time. The elders were really gunning for a baptism and sort of pushed things through before the girls knew what they were committing to. They never came back to church after getting baptized.
There was a concerted effort to bring them back. Phone calls and texts were made, treats were delivered, surprise visits were made. They still didn't come back. At a ward missionary correlation meeting (or whatever they're called) I suggested that maybe we should just leave them alone. In the real world, if I try to pursue a relationship with another person, be it romantic, platonic or otherwise, if I don't get any kind of a response from the other person (if they seem to be avoiding me), I figure they need some space and I back off. I couldn't understand why the same shouldn't apply to these girls. My suggestion wasn't very well received.
The article I linked to calls it selflessness run amok. I think it's more like selfishness masquerading as selflessness. We are certain that what we are doing is in the person's best interests, but we fail to stop and consider how much of what we are doing is to benefit ourselves rather then the person we think we're helping. Sometimes we're trying to assuage our own guilt, or avoid facing our own doubts, or take your pick of any number of ulterior motives. The tricky part is that we're not always conscious of our motives. We can be very good at deceiving ourselves about what our true motives are.
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