Bobbing Gecko

On the Topic of Wishing

2011-06-04T06:35:00.000-07:00

As usual, I'm a couple weeks late in getting 'caught up' on reading my favorite blogs, and find that Beck has posted another great reflection spiced with questions and followed up with many good comments, on the longing realities of living in a mixed orientation marriage. That is, despite all the love, blessings and good intent, there is still part of us hungering for connections that probably just won't happen. It's simply because we've made and continue to make personal choices and commitments to maintain our family relationships, the benefits of which we believe outweigh the obvious alternative of persuing relationships via our more natural orientation. Such discipline doesn't stop the longing, but perhaps it does teach us about what is really important.

So, for what it's worth, I'll post my latest poem, which I've been working on for several months.

On the Topic of Wishing

During a sunny winter day in February,
That I was outside, doing something else,
Like walking the beach, hiking through woods,
Or rooting around in a flower garden sky
Of bright Zinnias, which remind one that
There is only so much life yet to enjoy
Until you slowly fade away and die.

Yes, I’m slowly growing tired and broken.
And today here I am, inside the closed box,
Ticking away at tasks, building critical mass
Of details probably important only to me.
Perhaps I should put the yellow pencil down,
Step away from this momentary diversion
Of writing a poem, and just drive to the sea.

Oh to wander the wet glistening sand, listen
To the pounding surf and savor the salty air
Filling my lungs, my soul, my quiet longing for
Touch and something I cannot quite describe,
And yet I feel the void, so easily distracted!
The setting sun enflames the wide vacant path
Along the foaming edge, driven with the tide.

Perhaps then, wishing is for dreamers who
Go nowhere, lost in their reality of minutia,
More consumed in maintenance than actually
Moving forward, not owning their time and place,
Whereas the new golden fronds of sword fern
Rise from rich earth and slowly uncurl into deep
Green spears of living flesh, and find their face.

I am told to wish for peace and joy. It works
For me, most of the time. And yet, it is slippery.
I watch it slither into the still and murky water
That decomposes the leaves and memories of guilt
Now dissolving as a rotting carcass of what I was
And recycling who I am becoming. Such living water
Shall fertilize my soul and deliver me from wilt.

My Queer Defense

2011-05-10T06:17:00.000-07:00

Monday evening my wife and I attended an informational gathering sponsored by Basic Rights Oregon (BRO), which is a political action group committed to ending discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity, and is bringing marriage equality to the ballot in Oregon, hopefully next year. We listened to the Executive Director detail their research and efforts in producing and airing an ad campaign, "Love, Commitment, Marriage." After viewing two of the commercials and hearing about the results of a recent TV media blast in Oregon, she opened up for questions from the audience about how things are going. After two years of effort, progress in this liberal State of Oregon stands at around 100,000 "yes" votes, which is about half of what is needed to launch a ballot initiative. It was an interesting discussion of strategy and tactics for turning public opinion and winning the opportunity for all people to enjoy the benefits of marriage. At the end of this Q&A session, the last question posed was basically an attack on the Mormon Church and its efforts during Prop 8, and how would BRO work against similar campaigns of opposition.

As the Director struggled to respond with a politically correct answer, I felt a surge of desire to stand and offer an insider viewpoint. So I raised my hand forcefully and was acknowledged for "one more question." I said I didn't have a question, but rather a response to the previous question. I said, "I am queer in this group. I am an active GAY Mormon." I went on to express my embarrassment and shame over the actions of my church in the California Prop 8 battle, and how this has been a tremendous turning point for many members of the Church to question what Church leaders did in manipulating members to support a political campaign. I explained that I didn't think the Church anticipated the damaging public image, the 'black eye,' that came as a consequence of their involvement, or the loss of support from within the church. I said I doubted that such overt tactics would be used again. I concluded with my hope that change was occuring within the church, and that Church Leaders were making efforts to listen and respond to LGBT members of the church. My comments basically ended the meeting and afterwards, a dozen or so individuals came up to me and wanted to shake my hand or hug me for my words. I was frankly amazed at the outpouring of love, and that I could have something to say that made a difference.

My wife and I have had a couple exploratory interactions with BRO, to see how we might fit into their efforts, but we were kind of on the fence as to how to we might contribute in a meaningful way. After this experience, I think I may have found a voice, a niche to reach out and help us 'hold hands' with faith communities, which BRO desperately needs to participate in the marriage conversation. I don't like the 'Us versus Them' mentality that often pits groups with passionate thinking against one another. Both sides lose in these confrontations, but we especially, since it is our hearts that must change towards inclusiveness and understanding, regardless of who "wins" in the short-term. The gay community cannot afford to practice bigotry towards people of faith. Whether the 'opponent' is Mormon, Catholic, or Evangelical, I deeply believe there are significant segments of these populations that will listen and consider a message of fairness, of treating LGBT people with compassion, according to the Golden Rule. If someone genuinely believes in the primacy of family relationships and is critical of promiscuity, as our culture certainly does, why would they interfere with someone else's desire to stand up in front of family and friends and and make a commitment to love and cherish, in good times and bad?

Sometimes we need to spell it out.

2011-02-14T03:39:00.000-08:00

It's Valentine's Day, and I'm overdue on posting to my blog. I don't think I've talked much in the past about my 'Sweetheart,' the person I fell in love with, head over heels. This beautiful woman was smart, independent, and she even turned me on. It's true, the first and only woman I ever really kissed, and someone I genuinely felt attracted to. Maybe I could actually do this marriage thing after all. Yes, I "struggled with SSA," but she proved to me that I wasn't gay, and maybe I could leave all those feelings of gender insecurity behind me. I was 24, tired of being alone, and naivete was the name of the game, actually, it was the only game I knew.

Oh my sweet Susie-Q was clever, spoke with a British accent, and made me feel like a million bucks. We could talk about anything, she made me laugh, we played games, went to movies, and I was happy to be her friend. But she didn't want to be just my friend. She told me she had plenty of friends, so what was I going to do? It was refreshing, a woman who called me out of my comfort zone, who demanded I make my intentions clear. "Okay," I said and then gulped a big breath for courage, "I only want to date you, I want to see if we can make it work." Not sure what "it" was, but I had made a commitment she was hoping for. Only, I didn't really get the dating game, the romance game, because such courting rituals didn't come naturally. Case in point, Valentine's Day 1981 and two weeks before our wedding, I didn't get around to buying a Valentine card... I put it off, got distracted, and didn't think it really mattered. Boy, was I wrong! Perhaps that oversight should have been a big flashing red light for her, but she forgave me and we still got married. (I don't think I've missed a Valentine Card yet, in 30 years, so the grief she gave me for that indescretion must have made a lasting impression.) Unfortunately, what I didn't learn from that experience, and one that I'm still trying to do better on, was her basic need to be cherished. Living through the disconnects of a mixed orientation marriage means this is a BIG problem. How can she possibly feel cherished, revered as the only one true love, my eternal Queen, when I feel emptiness and long for connection with other men? It breaks her heart. And it breaks my heart that I hurt her so. There are no easy answers to this one.

Flash forward thirty years, and now we're empty nesters. We can walk around the house again without any clothes, if we feel like it. We have great kids who are getting on with their lives and their own families, beautiful grandchildren, and we hope for many good years to come. And I still love her. My heart is committed to her, to us and our family. Perhaps not with the same naive love of my young adulthood, since a lot of floodwater has gone under the bridge, but I've weighed our options, and I want to grow old with her. I love her caring, her sense of humor, her gentle smiles when she first sees me come through the door, and the simple things that bring her joy. I am comfortable with her, even if all the lines don't always match up. I can tell her my frustrations and she still listens. My Sweetie is one of the most kind and loyal persons I know...the proof is that she hasn't given up on me yet.

So can I spell it out any better than L-O-V-E? Only that it happens one day at a time, one opportunity at a time to hold, to cherish, to forgive and be forgiven.

Write in my heart! (again)

2011-01-01T20:46:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! It has been a long long time since I last blogged, and yet I feel the pull to begin writing again in 2011. I hope to use my blog again as a place to share my thoughts and have dialogue with friends, which is something I've missed since moving to Oregon and being so consumed with a new life. Please feel free to banter with me.

The recent discussions in Beck's and JGW's blogs on the topic of faith, doubt and authenticity got me thinking about a poem I've been working on, and the struggles I've had lately with trying to reconcile my discontent with church leaders and feeling a sense of place and happiness at church. Faith is no longer a simple thing for me. Part of me wishes I could go back to the years of complete confidence in and testimony of the 'true and living' church, but I suspect that what I am learning is more valuable to myself and closer to the truth of things as they really are, and not as I want them to be.

Following is a rather edgy poem for me, one that has been trying since the middle of November to get a voice that I am satisfied with. I'm still a little unsettled with it, but have decided to let it rest, publish it, and see what anyone has say. I usually don't talk back to the Lord, but it all started in response to the reading assignment in Jeremiah for the Old Testament Sunday School class. I've not read much of Jeremiah before, except for the sound-bite snippets we usually hear, like in Jeremiah 31 which the poem responds to. But I also found much of his writing, such as is in Jeremiah 16, to be troubling because of his condemnation and anger with the people. Maybe the Lord really did want him to say all the terrible things he said to the Israelites, but I know there are always two sides to a story, and human perspective often tends to be one-sided or bigoted. And so, my poem explores the exasperation we may feel as gay LDS, the feelings of condemnation, the doubt, the blind leading the blind, the need for acceptance and redemption, and finally the call for attention from a living prophet.

Write in my Heart! (again)

Will you make our land desolate?
I'm no better than my dead father.
So call on my obstinate soul to break,
To turn away the path of destruction.

As yet, your rod of iron rusts.

Do not whisper or sigh softly
If you want me to hear, for crying
Out loud... Only then will I let the
Sound fall flat, the silence speak,

And wait for you.

Allay the pale and trembling fear,
My dread that you are not here
To listen to me. I am open to your
Transcription on my inward parts.

There scrawl your name.

I am, I am, I am hoping you are near.
Did I not feel you present, your hands
On my believing head, a blessing
Urging me to seek, to love, to see?

How then, to stumble in darkness!

Christ, I am falling in your ditch--
And I am not alone, we are legion.
Forgive us, spent and hungry,
With only a cardboard sign saying

“Anything Helps… God Bless!”

But this is our writing, not yours.
All we ask is your signature on
The corrugated line, redeeming us.
Jeremiah, where are you now?

Nothing Wavering

2009-02-25T22:53:00.000-08:00

The March issue of the Ensign contains Pres. Monson's message, "Come unto Him in Prayer and Faith." As Pres. Monson typically tends to be, it is anecdotal in its stories and message. In the midsection of the article, 'Accepting His Invitation,' Pres. Monson refers to James 1:5-6 and Joseph Smith's prayer and First Vision. He then points to many other scriptural examples of people qualifying for blessings as a result of the fervant prayer of faith. His repeated use of the phrase 'nothing wavering' has caused me to reflect on the role of my faith, or lack of it, in my own personal experience. Sadly, I confess that much of me questions, bobbs up and down, and struggles to get it right, nothing wavering.

When I was a fresh convert to the Mormon faith, 15 months to be exact, I entered the mission field to serve the Lord. That was the scariest leap of faith I have ever taken. I left the weeping embrace of my divorced mother, who didn't want me to go. But I felt this was what the Lord wanted me to do, and in retrospect, I'm thankful to have served and loved the people of California as a missionary. It was a marvelous time of spiritual awakening and maturing for me. But, unlike the glowing example capstoning Pres. Monson's article, my most fervant prayer of faith was never realized. Like Pres. Monson, my Mission President promised me that if I worked hard, prayed hard and was worthy, then my family too would come into the church. Oh, if this were possible! To see my parents reunite our family in faith and for us all to be sealed in the Temple! This was the stuff of my naive dreams, my fondest heartfelt hope, my most earnest and oft repeated prayer. So, what went wrong? Did that one time I masturbated on my mission spoil it all?

What does Faith mean to me? How is faith the same or different from hope? Having just read the First Presidency Message, these were the questions I pondered last Sunday during the quiet time of the sacrament. To me, I need other words to help me convey the concept of faith: words such as 'trust' or 'confidence' relate to me the feelings I have for Heavenly Father and the Savior and their love for me. Joseph taught that faith is the product of experience--I believe that, and it jives with my observations in life. I can completely have faith or trust in God, because of the repeated feelings of the heart and ideas of the mind they have revealed unto me. I do not doubt them. I believe in the inspiration of the eternal nature of the soul, that we lived before earth, and will continue to progress in the lives to come.

Trust is something that must be constant; you cannot partially trust someone. I trust Jesus, nothing wavering. I trust in the power of goodness, faith and love, nothing wavering.

I struggle to say this, but I no longer trust in the church, that it has or will make inspired policies that directly impact my life or others. I trust the scriptures and the doctrine, but I don't always trust the interpretation thereof. . . I don't always trust the culture and the leaders who support it. When someone breaks a trust, then faith is a hard thing to restore, because faith is a product of our experience. I believed the church when they said that I could 'overcome' my SSA, and that it would go away when I got married; my personal experience has proved otherwise. And I have come to realize my spiritual experiences in living and loving Gospel virtues doesn't always align with the historical and current actions of church leaders. The poor treatment of intellectuals and feminists and the recent events of the church's attack on gay marital rights is front and center for me in my skepticism of the claim that "it's ALL inspired of God."

On the otherhand, Hope is something I'm more flexible with. Hope is in the best wishes department for me. I hope for joy and peace in this life, and then for a glorious resurrection--I'm not sure what such will entail, because that has yet to be determined by my kind Redeemer. But I trust him, believe him, that it will be the right reward for me, whatever it is. Hope doesn't have to measure up to my expectations or timetable. I can be disappointed and still have hope that things will work out in the end. Hope is a great motivator for me, it plays to my desires, my willingness to sacrifice for something better. And I hope in a more positive future for the church, that it will learn from its mistakes, grow to be more inclusive and diverse, and overcome the prejudices and stigma of my generation. So I am willing to stick with the church and do my part to establish Zion, the pure in heart, in preparation of the Lord's Second Coming. I do have faith that He is coming, and I hope He won't be too upset with me and the rest of us sinners in His church.

This last week my LDS faithful aunt passed away. She has lived a long life of devotion to the church and her family. She had great influence on me joining the church and going on a mission. I have loved her dearly my entire life. As I matured as an adult, I became more aware of my aunt's imperfections, but I adored her just the same. I have witnessed her trials of faith, much of which were due to her sometimes rigid views of what was best. And I also saw how those trials humbled and schooled her sensitivities and blind spots, just like my own weaknesses do for me. My aunt was a grand lady who loved the Lord; she showed me by her example how to employ faith, hope and testimony. She exemplified that 'Nothing Wavering' kind of faith, for good and ill, that we cling to in our religous and spiritual lives.

My family has asked me to read some of my poems at the graveside service. I"ll read Face Towards Zion, Prairie Wind, and Outstretched Hand, because these were all poems my aunt loved. And just for the occassion, I wrote this poem for you, my dear Aunt Beth: may you rest now, in peace.

Nothing Wavering

She looks into the mirrors of her eternity, nothing wavering,
Firm in her vast hope of bright reflections that do not end.
Yet, the image of her desire curves away into deep green
Cosmos, where Life is bent into refractions that do not go

Straight, do not always conform to her will. Yet, she follows
Those bending beams of light, nothing wavering, through a
Veil of confidence that leads her onward path, and warps her
Chosen reality into the vision she dreams of when we are near.

She laughs in the day and weeps in the night. Unaware,
We ran to her arms to be enfolded in her soft bosom, endless
As the night in its comfort, then hung on for just one more hug.
Her squeeze was always there, tight and nothing wavering.

Yet, laced in loss, she hangs on fiercely as we mature into our
Own gospel dreams, the practice of our lives, where the agency
She treasures for us turns us at times away from her dreams,
And once again she is alone with her babies, nursing tears.

She sings to us the songs of Zion, her beloved. So let us dance,
Let us paint, let us teach stories of faith and persistence, for we
Are the family of her choosing. We're the ones she fried tacos for,
We are the few she took out her teeth for on our birthdays!

She still winks and chuckles at her jokes. But wait, there's just
One more story she must tell you before you leave: it's always
Roughly the same--it is her story of Joseph, her story of Jesus,
The story of her life and her love for you, nothing wavering.

Gecko Revealed

2009-02-17T05:52:00.000-08:00

"My name is Ron, and I'm a Gecko."

A little of the life and mind of Geckoman. Since I am 'coming out of the closet' and back into the world of public introspection, I thought I might share more of who I am and where I'm coming from. Such a statement of faith and purpose might help those stumbling upon my blog to construct a more complex picture of who this reptile guy is.

We moved to Arizona in January of 2006. I became fascinated with the little geckos that crawled up and down the cement block wall in our backyard. You could only see them when they moved. Often they would stay in the same place, just bobbing up and down. So I wrote a poem about it, wherein I compared myself to the little animal, going up and down in the same place. We live in a double world, as married gays in the Mormon church. Many of the faithful I know might be repulsed to learn that I am attracted to men; many might find it hard to touch or endear my little reptilian friend as well. But on a personal note, I too am often frustrated by myself, that I can't seem to control my thoughts and that I make choices for behaviors that are on the edge. So I find myself bobbing up and down, drawing attention to my own condition. However, like the Gecko, my bouncing behavior has a purpose: it cools me down and tones my strength and coordination.

As the years have moved on, and now that I've read and learned of other's common Moho experiences through the bloggosphere, I see that I'm not all that peculiar and many 'struggle' in similar ways that I do. I have become more accepting and loving of myself, and less judgemental and homophobic of others. Like others, I realize that I have known from childhood that I was a bit different, or processed things differently than most other guys. I began to especially notice this in junior high school, as I bloomed into puberty, yet I refused to acknowledge that I had anything 'gay' going on. I just chalked it up as I've always been a sensitive, creative kind of guy.

I joined the church when I was 18, and that set me back in coming to terms with my homosexuality. But that was probably for the good, since it trained me to live asexually for a few years, until I met my wife at BYU and married her. (And I am truly thankful for her and my wonderful children.) I believed the church's rhetoric that my SSA was a consequence of the sinful choices I had made, and that I would grow out of it when I got married and could have regular sex. The married sex was good, but with that increased sexual activity I also found an increased hunger for men and to be accepted as a man. However, I never went 'all the way' sexually with another man, although I could have a couple of times cruising for some kind of connection. For many years I programmed my life to be absorbed in work and family and church, and simply shut out my feelings of attraction. I'm less willing to do that now, and have chosen a path to understand my heart better, and still love the Lord for it all.

I am a man of practised faith. I know of God's goodness through personal experience, even though I have suffered injustices when it comes to finances and employment and what some people do to each other. My heart is more tender, I've chosen to be more accepting of those things I cannot change and empathetic to the plights of people struggling in a world of pride and indifference. I hope that I can overcome my own pride and enmity towards the Lord, submitting to his will more freely. I struggle with cynicism and critical thinking when it comes to our shared religion. I want to believe that it is all directed by revelation, but I suspect that many times the Lord is willing to let us evolve slowly as a people and a culture, allowing our church leaders the bias and prejudice of their tradition. I also acknowlege that change is a matter of timing, and the Lord will direct events as the saints are willing or able to embrace change. We saints are not always as humble and loving as we would like to think we are.

I'm distressed by the church's role in the whole Prop 8 controversy, and in general it's lack of inclusiveness towards gays, feminists and intellectuals. What a shame, what a loss of human resource available to build a more global and powerful body of Christ. I see much of the church's singular attitudes as a power struggle to maintain the status quo: well-intending, but entirely convicted men denying those with different political/social/spiritual agendas a seat at the Lord's table. I fear at times that our leaders are not being led by divine revelation, but I have hope that eventually the Lord will make His will known in more conclusive ways and that the church will be more receptive to follow. I guess time will tell, and I remain in the church, on the side of safety, ignoring the prejudice and trying to work on my own personal agendas of faith, hope and charity, praying for better understanding while also trying to develop stronger integrity.

Within the last couple years I lost my job and most of my financial securities. I am far from alone in this messed up economy. As I have confided previously, most of these things are merely 'accessories' anyway, and not the important stuff of life. But praise God, the Lord has been aware of the little Geckos on the wall, and I am truly blessed to again have a wonderful job doing what I love, and to be 'home at last' in the beautiful place of my nativity. I feel we are where we are in life for a purpose and reason. To think otherwise is to accept that life is nothing but chaos, and I know in small and simple ways that God lives and loves me, the little Gecko.

Slowly but surely I will become known as a gay and yet faithful man in the church. I don't intend to broadcast my orientation carelessly to whoever will listen, but I will talk about it if asked. People may find my blog and the word may spread. I care only to love and be courageous in I what I believe to be the cause of truth. I have nothing to hide anymore, and I'm not ashamed of who I am. I don't want to be known only as that gay guy who loves music and ice cream, but I'm willing to take the risk. Hopefully I'll continue to be able to serve the Lord and to help to advance His purposes, relying wholly upon the mercies of Him who is mighty to save.

"JESUS LOVES YOU, but..."

2009-02-01T06:01:00.000-08:00

I admit I giggled out loud with wicked delight when I saw this bumper sticker the other day:

"JESUS LOVES YOU, but I'm his favorite!"

What a coy little thing to say. It's funny because it's close to the truth, even though it stings just a bit as an afterthought. However, the more I've thought about it, the less funny and cute it is. I'm sure it never was intended to be social commentary on what's wrong with religion, so maybe I should just lighten up, but actually it's been kind of an 'en-lightning' rod for me.

In just a few words this little statement effectively points out to me why I'm uncomfortable with my church's veiled attitude with gay folks. . . or feminists, or Democrats, for that matter. It's that righteous knowing you're better than someone or something else. And you know it's true because everyone else believes it too.

But it's not just Mormons who do this kind of thing. Oh no, we certainly have no exclusive franchise on self-righteousness. We can easily see it expressed by other 'saved' religions or maybe Muslim extremists, but what about by political parties, by movie star celebrities, by our devotion to super-premium brands, or even by the 'gay agenda'? It's that whole 'I'm Right and you're Wrong' mentality. And the truth is I find little ways to practice it myself, just about everyday.

So now I'm making a conscious effort to catch myself at it. I'm trying not to be better than you, or smarter than you, or sexier than you, any more. And Jesus, I don't want to be your favorite. I just want to be one of the billions you know and love, who also loves you too.

"There is joy in creation."

2009-01-28T04:45:00.000-08:00

I've been away for a while, but I haven't lost the need to write and put my stake in the sand. I'm very pre-occupied with my new job and all it entails, so it is hard to carve away time for blogging, but I'm determined to get back into Bobbing Gecko. The other day I went back and reread some of my entries from last year, and it was truly good to hear myself thinking, so with this post I hope to continue my dialogue with myself and those who like to check in. . .

Last Sunday at church, a brother in my HP Group described a sacred event that happened to him. His testimony has resurfaced on my mind several times this week, as I have reflected upon it and the events of the last few weeks in my own life. The priesthood lesson was on prayer, and as the discussion coursed through gratitude and then on to guidance from the spirit, this older brother raised his hand and asked to share. He went on with his story: while on his mission as a young man, he was very troubled by the constant rejection he was experiencing, and so was pouring out his soul to the Lord, questioning why life was the way it was. Why wouldn't people just listen? How come there was so much strife and discord in the world? As he was praying, he felt as if he was being carried away, removed from the surface of the Earth, to view the world from the vantage point of space. How beautiful our world was! He then saw our planet diminish in the distance as the universe expanded to his view. Then he heard a mild voice that simply said, "There is joy in creation." This closed his vision, and he found himself back in his bed, to ponder on what he had been told. His vision of creation has guided and tempered him throughout his life.

Lately I have been busy creating many new flavors of ice cream for my employer. It has been stressful to get multiple tasks accomplished, lots of different components designed and figured out for cost, label information, etc., all by a deadline. I've been working long days, and yet in a word, I've been having the time of my life! Yes, some people actually get paid for inventing ice cream. I'm one of the lucky ones, and no, you can't have my job! Anyway, last week as I was making samples of new ice cream flavors in my lab, it was late at night, I was exhausted, and yet I started feeling such gratitude to my Heavenly Father for just being there and being able to do what I was doing. You see, I know what it is like to be stifled at work, to be bored at work, and to be unemployed. I started to weep for the simple joy of my creations, right there all by myself in my little upstairs lab at the dairy. It's not a fancy place, I have no team of people to manage, just a little ice cream mix and a batch freezer, bottles of exotic flavors, a little chocolate, a little caramel, some fruit preps, and my imagination. And it is wonderful.

This last Monday I took the samples of my creations, ten new flavors in all, to 'Show & Tell' with the owners and the Sales Team. Typically they launch 4 new flavors a year; it was going to be hard to see which ones they'd cut. Everyone was excited to see what I might come up with, since this was my first product presentation for the team. They loved the first flavor, a trio of sour sorbets patterned after Jolly Rancher profiles. And they loved the next, a northwest berry trio, and the next, a cherry cordial, and the next, a peanut butter ice cream with caramel and chocolate covered peanuts. Sample after sample they raved and couldn't get enough. They even liked the Orange and Licorice combo. By the end of the show they applauded, and everyone was full of ice cream and smiles from ear to ear. Then came the concensus discussion for what flavors to launch, which ones to hold back. It became evident they wanted them all; they ended up approving eight new flavors, and discontinuing six existing flavors in the line to make room for the newcomers. Now I've got twice as much work to get all these new flavors set up for production, but I'm happy.

And so I come back to this idea of having joy in creation. Whatever we do, we can take great satisfaction in what we do, even if it's splitting wood, as one brother contributed in the HP lesson. How true. We are also the creator of ourselves, day by day. With honesty and the gifts of the spirit in our lives, Heavenly Father is able to show us our potential, whatever that may be. Joy in creation is not gender or orientation conscious. It operates in great diversity. It is the work of our Creator.

There is a God

2008-07-13T10:20:00.000-07:00

Much has happened in my life since I last wrote in my blog, almost six months ago. Things got worse before they got better, and I simply did not want to whine about my lot in life, so I shut down my blogging. I had a number of job interviews, I flew all over the country, then one after another they dissolved without any offers. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I attract the kind of employer I desired? I was getting desperate and would have taken anything, but nothing came. It was time to learn even more humility. I needed to let go of my past failures in corporate America and the frustrations that were eating me up--it took some more time and reflection.

Over the Memorial Day weekend I went with friends on a 3 day camping trip to Havasupai, down inside the Grand Canyon. This is a magical place of living waters. It requires a 12 mile hike in and out, but it can be savored along the way, and I had a marvelous time. The aquamarine water is clear and brisk, springing from a deep underground aquifer that leaks out the canyon wall and flows down in pools and waterfalls on its way to the Colorado river. It was a time to get away from it all, to be with dear friends and feel close to my Heavenly Father. While I was there I felt like everything was going to work out and be okay; despite my fears, I just needed to continue to have faith in the Lord.

The hike out the canyon was the most daunting part of the trip. We elected to begin in the late afternoon, once the shadows were in the canyon, and hoped to be out by dark. The radiant golden light of the western sun lit up the high layers of white sandstone, casting warm light below that was soaked up by the red and ochre tones of the stone layers around me. I thought of hymns and hummed the melodies as I marched up the dry creek bed towards the waiting switchbacks that rise steeply up the canyon wall at the trailhead. It wasn't going to be fun, but there was no other way out. After two thirds of the way my feet began to hurt with hotspots, I had used up most of my water, and everyone else I was hiking out with were way ahead of me. I didn't like the idea of being the old slow poke and making others wait for me, but I was doing my best and that was all I could do.

After hiking about ten miles, with the two most difficult miles yet to go at the shoulder of the rim, I paused to rest. I prayed to my Heavenly Father for help--I needed Him to lift me up and give me confidence that I could do this. . . before the darkness settled in! I started up the switchbacks and felt as though charged with new energy and joy for being there, even though it was tough and challenging. I paused at every other switchback and waited a minute to catch my breath and for my heart rate to slow down, enjoying the view and splendor of the last rays of sunlight. When I was almost to the top, the sun made its final glint of glory before dipping below the far rim of the canyon. At that moment, I raised both my hands up in the air, feeling such gratitude for the blessing of being there. And since I was all by myself, I felt inspired to proclaim out loud to the rocks below me: "There is a God!" After looking at the expanse of space and sky beyond me, I felt again to repeat and magnify the thought: "There is a God in the Heavens!!" But I could not stop the prompting of the Spirit speaking to my mind, so again I spoke out loud: "There is a God in the Heavens who loves me!!!" Then I knew what I wanted to say next, without any prompting, "There is a God in the Heavens who loves me, and I love Him."

I reached the top feeling great, so alive and thankful for making it, and my son-in-law was cheering me on for the last few hundred steps. Surely there is analogy here with our mortal journey, is there not?

When I returned home from Havasupai I had an email waiting for me from a man I've known for years, asking if I were still available for employment. This person owns a food company in Oregon, and he was hoping I might be interested in his company. I flew out the next week for a job interview, and what he really wanted to know about me was where I saw my life's priorities and values, a personal question that almost blew me away. I responded frankly--my family, my career, my faith. I have since joined his company, and I am responsible for new product innovation, which is just exactly what I want to do. My new home is now in Oregon, which actually is my old home, since I was born and raised in Oregon and left 30 years ago... so this is a home-coming that goes beyond my longing hopes to a dream come true. I am simply thrilled with the new job, and credit my 8 month ordeal to the Lord's knowledge of where I could end up and holding out for me when I might have caved in.

Truly, there is a God in the Heavens who loves me, and I love him.

P.S. Just in case you're wondering, the Gecko will always remain a part of me and this blog. Anyways, I don't particularly want to morph into a salamander or a banana slug, even if they are more prevalent here in the great Pacific Northwest.

Accessories

2008-02-09T05:00:00.000-08:00

Recently, John G-W posted his feelings upon having his laptop stolen at a bus station: "I have lived into the awareness that, as important a possession as it was to me, it was, like all possessions, still just an accessory."

This statement brought a flood of recognition to me, because over the last 4 months I have learned the reality of 'doing without.' I had become comfortably accustomed to the privileged life of adequate compensation, and based so much of my consumption of material goods on wants rather than needs. It is surprising how little you can actually get by on when cold hard reality slaps you in the face. When you no longer have income flowing in, you are forced into a scarcity mentality that is much more critical about what needs and wants really are. Literally, the buck stops here.

It has been pretty humbling to accept that we could not get through this alone, that we were not financially prepared or self-sufficient enough to handle this ongoing crisis of unemployment in meeting our living expenses. We never anticipated it would take this long for companies to make a hiring decision, because in the past we had moved from one company to another with relative ease. We quickly used up the meager severance and our savings in a couple month's mortgage payments, and then thanks to my wife's sister and my brother, were able to cover another couple month's mortgage payments and winter semester tuition for a daughter. And yes, we've been living on our food storage, but so much more is required. Unemployment benefits only pay out about 20% of our previous take-home pay. The loving concern and generosity of our Bishop has relieved us from so much stress and worry. Church welfare has helped with the utility companies and provided fresh food for our table, and we have been able to volunteer in a couple different venues to give back ourselves.

At Christmas we received several anonymous notes on the door with money and gift cards to the local supermarket. We learned more than how good it is to give--we learned how to receive. We had a poignant and grateful celebration of the poor baby born in a stable--mostly with good food, a few small gifts and most importantly, each other to hold on to while singing the carols and bearing our love and testimony one to another.

We approached this month of February and another $2000 mortgage payment with no idea what to do next. Our Bishop said not to worry. How could we possibly take any more from the sacred funds of the saint's welfare offerings? We cried and contemplated about what to do next. We've tried for the last couple months to sell a car, but with little response. This month we began praying in real earnest for help. And I just kept lowering the car's price by $200 every few days until it was a real deal. So Thursday I signed over the title of my little red car named "Ruby" to a very nice woman named Deepika. She and five other foreign nationals from India are on a teaching assignment in a local high school because of a shortage of math and science teachers in the USA. Deepika has a PhD in Science and has been a principal of a school in India. Her colleagues are also well educated, bright, gentle and engaging. Again I was reminded of how much I actually have, as we walked into their rented house with only two mismatched office chairs in the entire first floor. They spoke of missing their families back home in India and how different the culture is here in America and how difficult it is teaching teenagers with no desire to learn in a vacuum of classroom discipline. I realized how meager they had it, to be separated from so much with only a few other people struggling together for mutual support. I humbly felt gratitude for my many blessings of family, friends and church that cements my life together in all the right and familiar ways.

Yesterday morning I went to the Mesa Temple, to thank the Lord for my many blessings and to petition for guidance in the interviews ahead. Tomorrow I leave for an interview in New Hampshire. There are developing opportunities in Pennsylvania and California. As I sat pondering in the Celestial Room, with eastern light streaming in through the tall windows of the beautiful room, I received a calm assurance not to worry, that all would be well and that I should choose a job that would best deliver on what I wanted to accomplish in the remainder of my career. I reached for a copy of the Bible, and it opened to Joshua 24, where the prophet exhorts,

"And I have given you a land for which ye did not labour, and cities which ye built not, and ye dwell in them; of the vineyards and oliveyards which ye planted not do ye eat. Now therefore fear the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in truth: and put away the gods which your fathers served on the other side of the flood, and in Egypt; and serve ye the Lord."

I confess that I have served the gods of 'Accessories' more than I previously cared to admit. How much do we really need, after it is all said and done, and our excess is truly stripped away? What is really important? It is our family, our faith, our determination to do what is right. The Lord has demonstrated this to me in the past few months. I feel as though I have gained a wisdom that would not have come in any other way. When we move, it will have to be to a more spartan lifestyle. We cannot sell our home at present because we are $30,000 upside down on the value of it, so we're leaving it for our married children to live in while they finish a graduate degree at ASU for another 18 months. Hopefully the housing market will recover and we can recoup our equity at that time. We will need to move into a low cost rented apartment to manage our combined housing expense, and we'll leave most of our belongings in the Arizona house. But it's only stuff, just accessories, that we leave behind. We carry with us larger hearts, full of desire to give back to our God whom we know is aware of all the earth and blesses those who love Him.

Back in the celestial room of the temple, I witnessed even more. I sat in a plush chair, surrounded by fine things drenched in chandelier light, and watched the beautiful people dressed in white move in their family groups to hug one another, smile with joy and rejoice in being in the Lord's house. There were a couple young men with a pink tags pinned to white shirts embracing proud parents wiping tears from their eyes. There was a lovely young bride to be with an earnest young man at her side and family clustered all around, waiting for their sealing session to begin. I myself had felt the warmth as proxy for my great great great grandfather, William Bowie, whose grandson and my great grandfather, John Bowie Ferguson, immigrated from Scotland to the new frontier of Nebraska territory in the 1870's. These men I am confident to meet someday. They are not accessories to my life; they are part of my life.

I reached again to the Bible on my lap and felt the Spirit's prompting to turn to Proverbs. Which chapter? Eight. So I opened to the chapter eight and began to read:

"Unto you, O men, I call; and my voice is to the sons of man. O ye simple, understand wisdom: and ye fools, be ye of an understanding heart. Hear, for I will speak of excellent things; and the opening of my lips shall be right things. For my mouth shall speak truth; and wickedness is an abomination to my lips. All the words of my mouth are in righteousness; there is nothing froward or perverse in them. They are all plain to him that understandeth, and right to them that find knowledge. Receive my instruction, and not silver; and knowledge rather than choice gold. For wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it."

I will miss my little car, Ruby. But the transaction has been for the sake of wisdom, and I feel the Lord has spoken to me in astonishingly clear terms. He has granted me an understanding heart. I hope to always retain the wisdom of these months of struggle. I have been led through my barren wilderness of sorting through the accessories of life to realize more deeply that which is beyond price: my loving wife and loving children, who in turn love what is right and are striving to be their best. It is not the car, the furniture, the house, the whatever. I love this church, the safety net it has been to my soul and family. And I love the Lord, for I know he first loved me.

Goodbye, Pres. Hinckley

2008-02-02T08:03:00.000-08:00

I will miss you Pres. Hinckley, for all your wonderful words and inspiring leadership, your warm and familiar humor. How can I thank you for such a life of devoted service? Only by expressing in some public way my love and gratitude for your life so well lived. I am confident you are now with your beloved companion, and I hope you feel satisfied by all your mortal contributions.

Pres. Hinckley, I can't think of another filling the void that now exists by your parting, but I know each church president finds a niche and the Lord works with those individual talents and sensitivities. The Lord will bring about his work, and as you have said, we all have a part in it, large or small, if we so desire.

Pres. Hinckley, I will return often to your writings, to find inspiration to 'Stand a little taller' and 'be a little better', day by day. I will try and recall in moments of temptation your clarion call to shun pornography and all that is debasing of the human spirit. I will follow your example of focusing on the positive and reaching out to others, as the best way of overcoming my own weaknesses.

Pres. Hinckley, thank you for your unfailing testimony. I shall always fondly think of you whenever I sing your hymn text (#135):

I know that my Redeemer lives,
Triumphant Savior, Son of God,
Victorious over pain and death,
My King, my Leader, and my Lord.

He lives, my one sure rock of faith,
The one bright hope of men on earth,
The beacon to a better way,
The light beyond the veil of death.

Oh, give me thy sweet Spirit still,
The peace that comes alone from thee,
The faith to walk the lonely road
That leads to thine eternity.

And Pres. Hinckley, may I add a fourth verse, just for you?

You dear, dear man for whom we'll miss,
The loving words and gentle smile,
'Go forth with faith,' to eternal bliss--
Our parting's but a little while.

God bless us all to 'Stand For Something.'
Thank you, Pres. Hinckley for showing me the good way.

Your friend and brother,
Gecko

Release Me

2008-01-15T20:28:00.000-08:00

I feel bad I've been so quiet lately. It's been hard to want to sit down and write anything. With nothing really happening in my job search, I have little motivation to share no-news, and even less desire to bitch and moan over my predicament. Not much else seems to matter except where the next buck is going to come from for the mortgage payment, or trying to stay focused on interviews and keeping new applications going out. Granted, I've had several good triggers to write about over the past month with the holidays and all, but with kids home from BYU for two weeks, I was cautious to be too involved or open with the family computer, so I basically ignored the urge to blog. I hope everyone had warm holidays and I wish us all an even better new year.

But this last Sunday things unexpectedly changed, and now I've got another reason to write. No, I don't have a new job, I'm not moving, but the sky fell for me a little bit. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. I told my Bishop a while back that he should start looking for my replacement in the Young Men President calling I've held for the last couple years. Yet I was unprepared emotionally for being released, especially with the justification that he was inspired to call someone else. (So you mean, the Lord doesn't want me to do this any more?) Well actually, I know his intentions were to relieve pressure on me for decisions ahead, but I'll miss the leadership opportunities. However, I'll stay on as an advisor to the Priest's Quorum. So I was a little surprised at myself, that I had such a hard time during Sacrament meeting, getting all choked up through most the hymns. My feelings were right there on the surface, and my wife just squeezed my hand and somehow we mumbled the words together in a mixture of gratitude and pain. I don't want to go. I don't want to lose my boys, these wonderful young men I've grown to love, as they grow up and prepare for missions and life ahead. Even though this is just a baby step of separation, I know it's coming and it's really tough.

I had prepared a lesson, which I also managed to deliver 'raw' on emotion. Basically, I was calling them out for not listening to my lesson two weeks ago, for taking the scriptures for granted, and just sliding by with their faith. It needed to be said, whether or not I was leaving. I dramatically read them the entire chapter of 2 Nephi 32, exhorting them to pray always and seek the spirit. You should read this out loud to yourself sometime; it is powerful. They will probably go a long while before they have another priesthood lesson as tearful or impassioned! And all this was in front of the new YM Pres! Can I show my face ever again? Yeah, I guess so. The young men were quiet and much more in tune to what I was saying this week; I hope they felt the same spirit I was feeling and trying so hard to show them. I thank God for including the young men in my journey at this time in my life. He is wise beyond words, and He has been there for me in my reaching.

Core Competencies

2007-12-12T07:29:00.000-08:00

I'm now coming up on 3 months of unemployment. I never dreamed this seeking a new job would be so slow or agonizing a process. I thought I had such an attractive resume that, like every other time I've considered a new opportunity, companies would jump at the chance to hire me. And it's humbling to realize that it will probably be sometime next year before anything happens like a job offer. Selling a car to pay the mortgage and getting food from the Bishop's storehouse is just the way it has to be for now, so I'll deal with it, grudgingly.

This time around I want the next job to be my last career move, if possible. I don't want to make a mistake in joining a company I can't truly support with my passions or fit into their culture. I know more about what type of opportunity I want, so I'm picky. It's true that I'm not getting any younger and I've got potential liabilities. I've hopped around a lot of companies, I've pushed my career to do innovative things, and I'm a creative who doesn't like to be 'managed.' Whoever hires me will do so at a cost for such skills and experience. I'm not generic; I'm specialized. So, I shouldn't be surprised or impatient that it is taking time to get it right.

Recently I was contacted by a retained recruiter for a technical executive position with a new company and brand that will be coming out into the marketplace. I was excited by the potential to make a real contribution and possibly see my dreams come true with an innovative product technology that I've been developing for years. The recruiter was impressed with my resume and seeming fit with the position requirements, so he asked that I prepare a one-page "Core Competency" brief. He sent me a couple examples from other people he had worked with, and at first, as I read through them, I thought, "I'm not good enough. I haven't done this level of work." But then I put those fears aside and decided to list what I thought my own career and personal strengths were. This was an empowering exercise. I settled on eight core competencies, and then began to fill in details which demonstrated my experience or skill with each attribute. By the time I was finished, I wasn't feeling inadequate at all, rather, I felt like I had substance, was more than worthwhile, and that a company would be greatly benefited by my joining their talent pool.

The recruiter was quite pleased with the writing and content of my Core Competency brief, and selected me as a finalist in a slate of three candidates for the position. I was flattered. But to his dismay, when he went to present to the company, they informed him they had found a person on their own and would not need his services. So this was another disappointment, but at least it got me to think about the important qualifiers of my experience and how this has shaped me into the valuable resource that I will be in my next position.

How often do we take such stock in ourselves? Starting with humility, looking at weaknesses and then at strengths, we come to understanding and satisfaction. Thank God I'm an optimist, and most days I choose to see potential and the good in myself and others. It is a conscious choice, one that is not always easy, and one that I don't always do. Sometimes I get overwhelmed and lose my light of confidence, but I can always go to my Father, find the match of desire and relight my candle of faith. Such is the time for now.

'Weak things' Become Strong

2007-11-27T23:11:00.000-08:00

Earlier this month, our Gentlefriend voiced these sentiments:

"My SGA is a unique mortal gift to make the most of. I must frequently remind myself of the good qualities it has given me. Navigation within the complex forces of marriage and Church membership can draw out the best that is within me. I am challenged to develop compassion and spiritual sensitivity. I get tired and discouraged and many times get off course, but then, in the midst of the tempest when the sweet Spirit whispers, "Peace, be still", I am reminded that He knows the way and will guide me Home if I let Him."

Also at this Thanksgiving time, Beck paused to count his blessings, and expressed a similar recognition:

"Instead of bemoaning that I'm a gay man trapped in a hetero life where things don't add up right, I am grateful for the "gifts" I've been given, the "talents" that God has granted me, and the knowledge of Him whereby I can use these talents and magnify them as I seek to follow His plan. I do not bemoan that I am gay. . . I may not have a trail guide, but I have the Spirit, and I'm grateful for those promptings to keep me on the path. This is a tender mercy. "

I have been thinking similar thoughts lately. There is so much about my gayness that I have grown to appreciate and am now thankful for. I have come to realize that much of my orientation is reflected in a unique set of personality traits, most of which are really not sexually operative one way or the other. I acknowledge that throughout my life I am and have been:

Attracted to men, and admire the masculine hero
Desire connection and fraternity with men
Stimulated by the power of the male form
Hunger for intimacy and acceptance by men
Spiritually dependent on Priesthood power
Desire to be open and loving, to serve others
Emotionally sensitive and vulnerable
Empathetic to all forms of suffering and injustice
Willing to be on the edge and question everything
Artistic, creative and musically talented
Lover of beauty and design
Detail oriented and a perfectionist
Generous and forgiving
Domestic

So what's wrong or inferior with any of this? Nothing!! Certainly not by LDS church standards. Now I know that all these characteristics do not uniquely qualify me to be gay or otherwise, and there are lots of gay men who possess other sets of qualities. But for me, I saw these attributes in myself conform to what I considered to be stereotypically gay, weak vulnerabilities, especially when combined with my lack of arousal towards women, my non-aggressive nature and a non-muscle-bound uncoordinated body I felt frankly embarrassed with. I often longed to be someone else, a stronger man, more physical, secure and confident. I discounted many of my personal characteristics as largely feminine and secretly wished for a set of more macho traits of 'manliness' that I simply was not. I lived in regret, because I was not a perfect man. But now I've come to respect my wiring and circuitry. I've decided to no longer feel apologetic or inadequate for what I consider to be my 'gay' attributes. Like Gentlefriend and Beck, I have come to value my unique gifts.

And then a surprising thing happened to me: as I truly accepted this 'gay list' in myself, I began feeling very much more male and more connected in my brotherhood with all men. I don't have to sexualize every hunk of a man to wonder if I measure up; I may look twice at an attractive guy, but it is admiration of beauty, not longing or lust. Even though I never really believed that raw masculinity was the mark of true manhood, I allowed myself to be deluded and demoted by my insecurities. But no more! Screw all that mamsy-pamsy thinking! I'm just as good a man as anyone else, even if I don't particularly care for team sports or fast cars or sexy women. And if anyone thinks, "That's so gay," well then, let them. I can live with it. I can live with love in my heart for even the intolerant.

Being 'gay' by most standards involves a physicality that is more than characteristics of how we view and interact with the world around us. Sure, there are sexual aspects to my gayness that will never be realized because of my choice for fidelity to my wife and family and the church. I try not to dwell on the sex inherent in gay lifestyle. It's just a part of being gay that I cannot do. The world and the church react most negatively to the sexual intimacy between same sexes. But I choose to love and respect my brothers who are there though, and my hope for them is to live their lives with joy and love. I'm happy to let the Lord work out the details of their eternal lives, knowing that I am not a worthy judge, nor should I try to understand the end from the beginning. I believe true love is good enough for me and anyone else committed to faithfulness and devotion, regardless of the religious lens or culture people live in.

This brings me to the sweet and universal sentiment expressed by Elder Wirthlin in his most recent General Conference, who speaks of personal transformation by the power of love:

"True love lasts forever. It is eternally patient and forgiving. It believes, hopes, and endures all things. That is the love our Heavenly Father bears for us.

We all yearn to experience love like this. Even when we make mistakes, we hope others will love us in spite of our shortcomings—even if we don’t deserve it.

Oh, it is wonderful to know that our Heavenly Father loves us—even with all our flaws! His love is such that even should we give up on ourselves, He never will.

We see ourselves in terms of yesterday and today. Our Heavenly Father sees us in terms of forever. Although we might settle for less, Heavenly Father won’t, for He sees us as the glorious beings we are capable of becoming.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of transformation. It takes us as men and women of the earth and refines us into men and women for the eternities.
The most cherished and sacred moments of our lives are those filled with the spirit of love. The greater the measure of our love, the greater is our joy. In the end, the development of such love is the true measure of success in life.

Do you love the Lord?"

And here, I think lies the quintessential question to living gay in the world and the LDS Church. Can we answer it honestly? I must confess, "Yea Lord, thou knowest that I love thee." (John 21:16). My life of perceived weakness has become much stronger, as I focus with faith on the God-given gifts bestowed upon me. I have the love of God in my heart for all men, and I am not ashamed to feel weakly male any longer. I can feed His sheep with the talents He has blessed me, according to His direction, and shall no longer be afraid of who I am or what I might accomplish with His love.

Of all the aspects of my belief that I am most sure of, because of my experience in living with conscious faith, it is that I know Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me, the little Geckoman. And since they first loved me, I love them (1 John 4:19). And since I truly love them, then I am blessed to love others in the way I know the Lord loves me, which is as a gay man, a son of the true and living God.

"Do you need me?"

2007-11-19T06:19:00.000-08:00

Last week I had a great time interviewing with four different companies, and not much time for anything else. The trip to Denver was fantastic; I came home so excited with the possibility of working for this company. Then I had another great phone conversation with a major company who wants to fly me to their headquarters to be considered for an innovation team they are forming. That would be neat, too!

However, all the while, my wife is beginning to worry about the reality of leaving Arizona and the new dimensions that will surround our lives. We are now 'empty-nesters,' and the rules are changing about what to take with us and what to leave behind. I think my wife is wondering where she fits into the wagon of my future. We have an open, mutually supportive marriage. But lately, my wife has been experiencing anxiety around the theme of "Do you need me?"

This has given me some cause to consider just what it is that I value the most. I could honestly say "No, not really," but that fits only a small part of my feelings. Pragmatically, I may not "need" her; nor could I deny that at times I wish I had a man partner to connect with. But this doesn't jive with the tremendous respect I have for her as a wonderful person who I love dearly, who others love dearly. She, along with me, has paid her dues in our family and relationship. I don't want to imagine life without her, the simple friendship and intimacies we share.

True love isn't based on need, it is based on choice, deep feeling and abiding commitment. My true love is spiritual and reflects the relationship I have with God. My attractions to same gender are based on hunger for intimate understanding and connection. The same goes for heterosexual attractions by my spouse, brothers and sisters, every human being. Connection is a need, but it is not necessarily love. True love goes beyond need to devotion. My true love helps me realize this.

"No Sweetie, I will not leave you behind in the desert. I love you because I simply do."

Apologies and Confessions

2007-11-12T20:25:00.000-08:00

Sorry readers, I really haven't felt like writing much. Lately I use the computer to job search, email, take care of mundane business, and read others' blogs. But when it comes to reflecting on my life, I'm feeling a little blah. And tired. It's not like I don't have time on my hands, I've never enjoyed such an extended vacation! The days do seem to get by with lots of little projects, and I'm reading more than ever. I'm not sure I even want to go back to work...

Here's another apology. With all the upside-downness in my life for the last 6 weeks, I forgot the password to the email account (www.geckoman56@gmail.com) I link from my blog. So I wasn't able to go in and check on correspondence. Just recently I figured out my password and got back into the mailbox. Unfortunately a friend tried several messages, but of course got no response from me. When I tried to reply, his email account was closed...so Adam, please try me again. I wasn't intentionally ignoring you.

Confession: I waited over a week to get some feedback from the 2 days of face to face interviews I had with the local company, and now I'm feeling a little unsettled. Because I'm so wonderful, I was very hopeful this would be a slam-dunk, and I'd get an offer. I could just get back to work, and let all my logistical problems of moving melt away. Well, not so fast, nothing's ever perfect. Yes, they liked me, but had some 'concerns' about my idealism and openness and hunger for innovation; they're not sure if I would be happy with their 'little' job, as if I might be too big for it. I was quite excited about the opportunity, but now I'm not so sure about what they really mean. When people dig and want to know your feelings, your strengths & weaknesses, and 'describe the perfect job' I told them what I really thought and felt. Maybe they weren't ready for my level of honesty: when asked about weakness I said I sometimes lack of focus. My creative mind LIKES to wander; it gets me to places you don't go if you think and do only the same things. The perfect job means I get to make real decisions and be the top technical dog. And one of my strengths is that I'm curious. (The interviewer said, "Well, I've never had anyone give that answer before!") So maybe I should have been a bit more cautious, reserved and conventional. I'm frustrated that if they said they wanted an R&D innovation manager... well then, what does that mean to you? It means to me what I am, inside and out. I'm still on their list, but they want to interview other candidates to see what might be out there; so in other words, hang in there--we'll be back to you in a month or two. Arrrggghh!

But this week is going to be fun. Three interviews, one of which is a flight to Denver. I love Colorado! Stay tuned, more to come....

Still in the hands of the Gardener

2007-11-08T13:25:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been a week now since the face to face interviews, and still no word about anything. I don't really get it, but I don't pretend to know what's going on behind the scenes. Surely today I'll hear something. Didn't they like me? I thought it was a pretty good fit. Maybe they're interviewing other candidates. Anyway, this little Gecko is trying to stay in the hands of the Gardener and not second guess him.

Timing is always everything. Just this week three more interviews popped up for next week, so maybe I'll have some options to choose between, which would be nice. I'll have my first phone interview with a company in SLC on Tuesday. A company I applied to through Monster.com called; I had a short phone chat with the HR guy, and was invited to get on a plane to Denver. So that will be great to get out of town and see what's there, next Wednesday. Then another face to face interview on Thursday, back in Phoenix for a pharmaceutical company, which is a bit of a stretch, but they're the ones making the invitation, so why not?! I love having choices.

All this dragged out job uncertainty serves to reminds me in a literal way of the fact that in life we don't really know what's ahead--we get comfortable in routines, but we still don't know the end from the beginning. We believe we have a purpose so we just press on. I trust in a plan, regardless of knowing the outcome, hoping for good options, and doing my best day by day. To do otherwise would be to basically do nothing or panic--submit to chaos and despair, which I don't want to subscribe to. Sure, 'shit happens,' but choosing to believe we're headed in a direction to lead us somewhere better, or choosing to believe we're going through this trial today to make us stronger for tomorrow, that's the stuff of faith. I want to be in Zion's camp, even if the trail is tedious; too many evidences along the way already point me in that direction. I won't jump out of the Gardner's hand back into a dark pile of rubble to hide in. The best reward along the way is being home to do the things I didn't have time for, loving my wife and playing with the most wonderful grandson baby in the entire world. I can wait, use up a little more money, have faith in a better outcome, just around the next bend.

"Are we there yet?"

2007-11-02T05:58:00.000-07:00

Finally. Real interviews with people to talk to where you can actually shake their hand, watch the laugh lines in their face respond to comments and feel a better sense of connection with real human beings. Don't get me wrong, phone interviews are a necessary business reality and better than no interviews at all. But it's just that more than a month has gone by without face to face interaction along the job trail.

Two days ago I was excited to prepare for and meet real people, with real interest in me and what I might do for them. The talking went well, but the stress was physically and emotionally draining. And the commute home battling rush hour traffic was grueling, and took almost an hour and a half. It was Halloween, the little goblins were coming out, I wanted to be with my little grandson (premiering as a red M&M), and I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. So when I arrived home to meet my family's hopeful and expectant questioning, I felt . . . empty. Maybe discouraged and uncertain and afraid would be more telling. Was it 'Trick or Treat?' I didn't expect to feel this way, not after so much anticipation that this was the answer to our prayers for staying in Arizona. After all, we had been to the Temple in the morning, we reviewed expected questions and answers, we wanted this to be the one. And now I just didn't know if I liked the opportunity. I knew I did NOT like the traffic nightmare.

Yesterday was phase two of more interviews. This time around even better discussion and some answers to spoken and unspoken concerns. Another drive home through rush hour via different route home took only one hour. I listened to Schubert's 'Unfinished' Symphony on the public radio station. I asked myself "Are we there yet?" I think so.

Now I am hopeful and excited with the opportunity to work for this company. Early this morning before waking I dreamed about working on a project as if I were already employed. I already have creative plans if they have a job offer for me that is acceptable. I think it would be a great team of people to work shoulder to shoulder with. And they have great expectations for growth and innovation within the company's brand. It would be a chance to launch neat stuff into the marketplace, the kind of stuff to dream about at night.

But the saga continues. The job opportunity in Salt Lake appears to be opening up. I have a phone interview next week. It would be wonderful to be close to family. Maybe I could even sing in the MTC! There are also opportunities in Nebraska and Massachusetts. Anything could happen. "Are we there yet?" Lord only knows.

Murmurings along the trail

2007-10-29T05:14:00.000-07:00

I just haven't felt much like writing lately. I've been sick for a couple weeks with a horrible chest cold, coughing at night and croaking by day. But if that were all of my excuses, I would be so lucky. I've been sullen, too. I've been applying for government assistance, and I've seen the face of the poor. ("How much longer until I'm one of them?") And the side of my new car got backed into in the parking lot at the Department of Economic Security. (Unbelievably, the woman with all the tattoos and piercings actually had insurance... shouldn't that be a sign someone is looking out for me?)

I should be using my blog as a way to vent my anxieties, and yet I've been holding it in and seeking other diversions. The job trail has been winding up and down, mostly down, and I'm tired of it. My knees hurt, and not from kneeling too much in prayer, but in stumbling down the path. I want to whine, "Are we there yet?" to my Heavenly Father. It's been over a month of unemployment, lots of phone interviews and still I have yet to get a face to face. I knew I was a prime candidate for a couple positions with major companies, and yet they both fizzled without so much as an invitation to get on a plane. One company restructured their department, eliminating the open hire position; the other company enacted a hiring freeze until next year.

"But wait, don't you see how valuable I could be? Come on, guys."

I wanted options to choose from. I wanted them to compete for me with ever increasing offers. I wanted a little respect for my long distinguished career. I wanted them to want me, badly. I wanted my dreams to come true about promptings I felt came from the Lord. Surely, 'This is the Place,' wasn't it? Aren't we there, yet?

"O Pride, O Vanity, canst thou not mask thy leering face?"

Yesterday (Sunday) I started the day on spiritual 'EMPTY.' I should have had at least a quarter of a tank; after all, I've not really gone that far from my front door for several weeks. I guess I've used up a lot of spirituality on 'IDLE.' So anyway, yesterday was our ward's Primary Program, "I'll Follow Him in Faith." I was asked to help out with a couple of the musical numbers that needed a second conductor for the kids to follow. So we got through about forty minutes of the usual darling one-liners, earnest effort, songs of faith, and then it was my turn to join them in 'Love Is Spoken Here.'

Mine is a home where every hour
Is blessed by the strength of priesthood power.
With father and mother leading the way,
Teaching me how to TRUST and OBEY,
And the things they teach are crystal clear,
For LOVE is spoken here.

And there it was, my answer. I knew it all along. My own voice was simple and clear, floating above the young crowd of sweet boy voices so full of faith and believing. Trust in the Conductor, He's telling you the truth. You know it. His voice is rich, confident and inspired. Several people came to me after the program to compliment how lovely the song was ("I just love to hear you sing!") and I wanted to tell them I have a cold, it wasn't really my voice, but I just meekly said, "Thank you. The children were lovely, weren't they?"

And if that wasn't enough, then the second number a little later, a round, 'Listen, Listen.'

Listen to the still small voice!
Listen, Listen.
When you have to make a choice,
He will guide you,
ALWAYS.

The cacophony of children's voices singing at odds with one another in a controlled chorus of echos, eventually resolved and caught up with "ALWAYS." Another answer.

Doing yard work on Saturday I flushed a gecko out of hiding and picked him up as he was scurrying up the wall to find new cover. They're only about 2 - 3 inches long, fully mature. They are soft and tender and gentle; they don't bite. They like the humus of the earth and crevices to hide in. They sport mottled colors that blend in, and you only see them when they move. The gecko did not like being held. He looked furtively around for escape, licked his lips with a tiny tongue and in an instant flung himself out my hands back into the rubble of twigs and leaves I was raking up. I let him be.

"Just have faith, little Gecko. You are in my hands. Don't jump away so fast. "

So this is the week for hope. Doors have closed, but others have opened. There is a food company in Phoenix, and their R&D Manager just moved away with a spousal relocation. The phone interview went well last week, and I'm supposed to interview face to face this week. I'm hopeful that I won't have to move and leave my children and grandson. I hope this is the job for me. The Lord will guide me, always, if I can but stay in his hand.

Ups and downs on the job trail

2007-10-16T21:59:00.001-07:00

Being unemployed really sucks; it removes so many of the structured activities by which we get through a day and appraise ourselves. I'm applying for positions all over the country and hoping that something will stick on the wall; staying in Arizona is highly unlikely, and that's depressing because we've loved it here. Waiting for a phone call of interest or invitation to interview, and not going nuts when any response seems to take an eternity is requiring great faith for me.

I feel like I'm bipolar, bouncing between feelings of teary-eyed depression and optimistic conviction for the future. Deep down, I believe that this is in the Lord's hands, and that 'somewhere there's a place for us,' yet then I feel like I'm the Tony guy laying on the ground with a bullet in my chest. As the weeks are marching by without a paycheck, anxiety about the reality of the mortgage and 'what in the world are we going to do with the house?' is getting oppressive. It's then I tell myself that I'll get my tithing paid up, and even if it all falls apart and we have to turn the keys into the bank: "So what? its just money, no big deal!" comes into play. I've got my loving family, and that's what is really important. And it's exciting to think of a new area to discover, a new start on a job, and a new set of friends to get to know and love.

So here's to Pres. Eyring, and remembering what the Lord has done for me lately:

Right now there are two potential jobs with major companies I hope to continue to interview for. One of them progressed quite positively and then went on hold for a couple of weeks. The other opportunity I thought would move quickly, but it has stalled out too. This was discouraging to me, and then I realized that if both come back into gear at the same time and move toward job offers, then I can play them against the other. "Hope springs eternal."

An opportunity came up yesterday with a recruiter whose name came to mind while I was praying. The open position would be returning to a previous employer. Even if it goes nowhere, just the opportunity to talk to the person I owe a conversation to would be a great thing.

Yesterday we found out that a huge charge on our credit card ($9475) which we've had in dispute for over six months has been credited back to us--what a blessing!

And being home with my chosen companion, sorting through stuff and getting through a chaos that has piled up over the years and having so much time to talk about what we want out of our life ahead has been a really good thing too.

Gosh, we should all be unemployed every so often! Still, forced vacations are no picnic. Anybody want to buy a car?

Marital Trust

2007-10-11T08:38:00.000-07:00

As I read and get to know many in the Moho blogging world, there are lots of categories for me: the openly gay and the closeted gay, the fervent and the doubtful, the marrieds and the singles, the old (would 'mature' sound better?) and the young, etc., etc. Regardless, we're all family and I value all viewpoints and experiences that people share. Among my particular subset, the active LDS and married, there are even two groups: those who are open with their wives, and those who are not.

Going through much turmoil over the past seven years, I'm glad that my relationship with my wife is now one of the strong pillars of support I have to keep me true to the faith and my family. We don't have a perfect and peaceful relationship--there are plenty of things about her that annoy me and vice versa. What is better though, is that we're more open about the marriage. We talk about hurts and feelings and what isn't right. We talk about my SSA. We talk about her weight problem and her lack of conformance to her diabetic needs. There are no secrets. I'm feeling understood, loved and supported. Some things are changing to the better, some things are not changing, but at least we're dealing with it more honestly.

I'm sharing all this for a couple reasons. It's good just to acknowledge where I'm at in my blog, every now and then. After all, I'm using this as a journal of sorts. And I bring it up because marital trust and relationship isn't a topic that is discussed much among my particular Moho subset. It's whined about a little bit, but it isn't chewed on and elaborated. Why not? Is it too personal? Too painful? Can we help each other here?

I'm particularly concerned about my married SSA brothers who are struggling with coming to open terms with their wives. Having gone through more than a little grief with this, but now on the other side of the forest, I would wish for them to take the risk and start opening up, because I see how it's helped me.

I offer this overarching advice: marriage has to work both ways. First, strengthen your friendship and understanding with her, support her in her trials, and you are preparing for the day when you can include her into your deepest trials. You may need the assistance of professional or ecclesiastical help, to act as a mutually agreed upon moderator of what is right for both. Hopefully, you will one day tell her that you have been and will remain loyal and faithful to her alone, and that you love her still--those are the most important things she really wants to know, even if you are SSA. Letting her understand your trials will eventually draw you closer together, if you are honest and open with her, and if she truly loves you.

My wife hungers for intimacy, for inclusion; SSA is inherently a disconnect to that need. Because of my shame, embarrassment and the reality that I would naturally be more comfortable with a man, it is difficult to be intimate with her without honesty. It is my challenge therefore to go beyond what's natural or comfortable for me, to leave my isolation, and to trust in her and the Lord. This change in my behavior has brought challenges and blessings to our relationship. A year ago I finally came to the point where I determined I had to do this or not survive emotionally and spiritually in my family and the church. I knew my emotional health and salvation that was at stake, and I was doing this for me as well as for her. Asking her to go the distance, because she already knew about my SSA, but to do more than sweep it under the rug, to embrace me with my flaws, to be open and talk about this whenever I needed, to be able to accept and love me as is--this is what I required of her. And in return I would make concerted effort to be more loving, more forgiving, less critical, less self-centered. She rose to the occasion, and I responded with more love, and we are happier than ever. Burdens and stress are so difficult to handle alone; we are not meant to do that in our marriages; sharing our trials and overcoming together is part of the plan.

You cannot control your wife and how she will respond to your disclosures. You can hope for a particular outcome, you can pray and be on solid ground yourself, you can invite her to join you in the middle and continue down the path of eternal companionship. But in the end, we each must decide for ourselves what is best. This may be scary, but to be willing to let her do that is a sign of deep love and respect for her. Acceptance of all possible outcomes in the spirit of humility and charity is the place to get to one day. I've been impressed with Elbow's account, even though it had an outcome feared by some, but their honesty and love for each other led to what they felt was best. I wish for him the best. I wish for all of us tangible trust in our most important relationships.

Are there really any secrets?

2007-10-09T08:59:00.000-07:00

This morning I was reading Forester's blog, where he was commenting on the dilemma of telling his wife about his attractions, and part of his reticence is frankly what to do about his blog. This led me to begin commenting about anonymity, and it got too long, so I'm posting my ideas here:

A few words about non-anonymous blogging, since this has been my lot, by default, because I told my wife and later my adult children what I was doing on the computer! Yes, at times I hold back on what I might say, because they often read my blog and sometimes others' as well. If no one dear to me could be offended, misinterpret or be injured by brutal honesty or emotional ranting, then perhaps I would have more controversial things to say out on the edge.

But what of accountability? Can we really get away with saying anything, just because we feel like it, and then walk away with no consequence to our thinking or words? Even though we may not know real names or where each other lives, we do exert influence upon each other. I hope my words, whether they are anonymous to some or not, will be on the positive side of the ledger. We may not always be able to hide behind a veil of anonymity. We know that there will come a time "when the books are opened." Sooner or later our words and actions are usually known; privacy is a fleeting thing even in this world, if not in the next.

So as I consider my words and who may be reading them, it helps me to 'school my thoughts.' Do I really want to say that? What will [insert name] think about that word or that comment? Will this bring up interesting conversation around my Sunday dinner table? Or, on the other hand, if I have nothing to hide, why shouldn't I say this? What's the Geckoman afraid of?

Hopefully our personal scrutiny, anonymous or not, works both ways to keep us accountable AND truthful.

Coming out yields new revelations

2007-10-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

I had an amazing time at General Conference. My wife and I travelled with our Bishop and his wife up to Utah. It was the shortest trip we ever made, enjoying each other's company. We stayed at my cousin's house as we usually do, because he has room and he invited us to be with them. However, we spent most of our free time with our daughters who are attending BYU.

Sunday morning, before everyone else was up and coming over for a family breakfast prior to the 10 am session, I had time with my cousin. He is 10 years older than I, a father of 10, well educated, a humble man of God. We love each other in a brotherhood enriched by our mutual testimonies of the Gospel and the Lord's Spirit. I have always respected him greatly, trusted his judgement, and admired his family. I've shared with him some of my problems and feelings in the past, but I've never disclosed my orientation. So as we were talking together this last Sunday morning, about the unknown future of my life, I felt the great desire to tell him of my recent spiritual progress in Arizona and of my faith in the future. But the words were sounding hollow to me, lacking evidence or connection to what I've experienced. And then I said, rather impulsively, "I'm not sure if you ever suspected through my personality or behavior, but I am same sex attracted." He smiled quietly and acknowledged that he had not known, but yet he did not act surprised. After all, he's known me for over 40 years; I lived with his young family during my freshman year at BYU. We talked about the trials of life and the Lord's refining of our hearts. He confided in me of a personal tragedy that occurred in his family and we agreed together how these struggles of ours impact so many other things downstream, yet give us depth and faith if we so choose. He had no condemnation of my reality, only compassion and admiration of my faith and perseverance. I felt truly understood. I'm not sure why I haven't confided in him sooner; perhaps it was the fear of disappointing him.

My cousin has faithfully served decades as a Bishop, in a Stake Presidency and currently on a Stake High Council; so he has a well-developed experience base for church discipline. He said several interesting things: the church understands there are multiple origins for SSA. This contributes to the great complexity and dilemma of how church policy should appropriately respond to all members fairly. He personally believes there is a gay genetic component for part of the SSA population, which is beyond a person's control. But there also is evidence that SSA can be a learned or developed behavior brought on by abuse, culture, people's circumstances, as well as personal choices, curiosity, etc. Given all this, what is a reasonable response to one member might be a condoning of sin for another. I had never thought of it in this light. Overall, he said his observation of church courts for members involved in homosexual activity were judged by the same criteria as heterosexual adultery, and that long histories of damaging dishonesty were more of a common denominator for excommunication than just sexual behavior.

He also talked about a principle he called 'The Law of Compensation,' his belief in eternal rewards given to those who bear extraordinary burdens in this life. I think this follows with the idea of the Law of the Harvest. He felt that this applied to the gay community of saints, because there is no good answer answer for them in the church at this time. I'm not so sure that I feel specially burdened, but I believe there are many people who deal with great injustice and abuse in life, and I hope that special consideration will be granted to their trials.

Then my cousin dropped a personal bombshell. It is his speculation that our paternal grandfather, my namesake who died before I was born, was gay! I've heard the same anecdotal evidences from his life, but I never put it together the same way. My grandfather grew up on the Maine coast, separated from his family as a young man at the turn of the century, took on the life of a sailor, spent several years in Hawaii, Alaska and Washington as a single man before returning home to start a family and marry my grandmother at the age of 35. It was said they both believed sex was for procreation; they had only two children. My grandfather was a skilled craftsman and he had a woodshop that was a gathering place for men in the town. He loved his association with men; he had a respectful but independent marriage with my grandmother. My father attributed these somewhat unique behaviors to the New England culture he was raised in, and I always just accepted that explanation; what a pause for re-consideration my cousin brought to me this weekend!

I think as we seek to understand our family history, we can find the pieces that put together our individual puzzles, which brings a sense of wholeness, satisfaction and identity.

Extremity vs. Eternity

2007-10-01T13:17:00.000-07:00

Something changes in our hearts and minds when we're faced with extremity. Now that I'm unemployed, with a $2000/month mortgage and two kids going to BYU, there are different things I'm concerned with today than those of just a couple weeks ago. Funny how temporal changes in our lives can have such an effect on our emotional and spiritual consciousness.

Yesterday was my father's birthday. He would have been 89. He passed on about two years ago, just as we were moving to Arizona. Tomorrow, in the Mesa Temple, my son-in-law and I will perform his baptism, by proxy. The thought of doing my father's ordinances in the Lord's House is tremendously calming for me in the present uproar of change surrounding me. Later this week we'll be in Utah for Conference, and we'll gather as a family and complete the sealings for my parents, myself and my deceased brother.

What is really important in life? As I reflect on all the "stuff" I've kept myself busy with over the years, my pet distractions and frustrations, I have to conclude that my heart, despite it all, is resting in the right place. I have peace and faith. I don't care if I lose my home's equity, have to sell a car, find another job and reinvent myself; it doesn't really matter. They are set backs, disappointments, a pain in the ass. What matters to me is the Gospel of Christ, feeling His love and acceptance, knowing that I can and do make a difference in the eternal scheme of things, if for no one else than simply my family, who mean all the world to me.

Yesterday in Fast and Testimony meeting, as I was bearing my testimony of these very things I felt the singular glow of the Holy Ghost emanating from the exact center of my heart. . . I know the Gospel is True! I know where my true riches and blessings are. Nothing else matters.

Reverberations

2007-09-27T06:50:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged for a couple weeks. First it was a vacation break from everything, mandated by my wife who insisted I not be focused on the Internet, but rather on her. Fair enough. We had a lovely week in San Diego, relaxing on the beach, going to museums, enjoying each other for the first time as empty-nesters on vacation. So then I return to work this last Monday, to find out that while I was gone my company re-structured and I and 20 other people are no longer employed.

"You're kidding, right??"

"Sorry, no."

I am totally in shock. I've been with this great company for a little less than two years. I worked as a food scientist in a small R&D group. I was valued and respected. I was inventing really cool stuff. But then the company 'merged' a few months ago. The acquiring company didn't have an R&D group. (Would that be a red flag?) Last week they ousted the wonderful and vibrant CEO with all his positive values, and established their own way of doing things, which obviously will be without his vision of the future that included me.

How could this happen? Shit happens. But nothing happens in a vacuum. Reverberations happen. Well, it so happens that the founder's daughter was out driving drunk and killed someone earlier this year. They needed money to protect her in court with high-powered attorneys; they had to sell the company. We all wondered if there would be fall-out from the 'accident.' Yup, there sure was. It all rolls downhill. But maybe not without a purpose.

So, where do you want me to go, dear Lord? I'll do what you want me to do. The reverberations are not finished yet. We'll be starting again somewhere else, and only the Lord knows the end from the beginning. This isn't the first time of packing up and moving on for us. A new horizon, a new calling, a new opportunity to serve, and new important lessons to learn. Given my love for change, it's always a new adventure--maybe my dreams will come true, this time around...

Q for struggle

2007-09-10T09:37:00.000-07:00

"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved."

Helen Keller

Gone But Not Forgotten

2007-09-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

My brother would have been 54 today. Growing up, my family usually celebrated our birthdays together. He died over three years ago, and there is a hole in my life where he used to be. Even though he was my big brother, he was always more like my little brother. My brother was severely handicapped by epilepsy and he never lived a 'normal' life. He lived mostly alone, in a world of reaching out for meaning and acceptance, a world that I fear was too often brutal and disappointing.

My brother joined the church while I was on my mission, and his true satisfaction in life was serving wherever he could. But he was the wierd guy that volunteered for everything, that had to be told sometimes to please go away. It nearly broke his heart when he had to put away his Scouting uniform, because some mothers were concerned about him with their boys. Yet he was genuinely loved by his ward--I learned this from attending his funeral. I chose not to speak, I only wanted to sing. It was and still is the most important solo I have ever sung: How Great Thou Art. I also chose the hymn, "Lord, I Would Follow Thee." It fit him, his zeal, his love, his quiet heart.

My brother was a dreamer. When we were boys, he loved to draw fantasy castles filled with magical animals and we would let them live through our imaginations. He drew all the time; he was never without a pencil. We created all kinds of stories about kingdoms and chivalry. Then as he grew into a man, and the effects of heavy medications began to take their tole, he stopped drawing. But he always had big plans, like businesses he wanted to start up, things he wanted to invent, a wife and kids. Although none of that could ever happen for him, he'd never admit to believing in any of his limitations. Maybe that was his saving grace.

My brother died in his sleep, probably from a seizure. He was found several days later in his apartment, with his hand outstretched. I thought this was iconic: he always was reaching for something. Maybe now he can get his arms around his dreams. I wrote this poem about it. I believe his death was a sweet release, a gift from our loving Father in Heaven.

So today I'm missing him. Again. I wish he could know that, maybe he does. Happy birthday to you, John, my beloved brother.

Poem: Dragonflies Mating

2007-09-07T13:21:00.000-07:00

This is the last section of a longer poem.

I think the observation of human need and behavior, set in the stirring imagery of this poem is thought provoking, so I'm sharing. Do we wound ourselves and others, carry it with us, in going back to the abyss, time and time again in seach of love? Do we marry with the sky? And what of the cosmos do we transfer in our loving relationships?

The author is Robert Haas, a contemporary American poet.

6.

This morning in the early sun,
steam rising from the pond the color of smoky topaz,
a pair of delicate, copper-red, needle-fine insects
are mating in the unopened crown of a Shasta daisy
just outside your door. The green flowerheads look like wombs
or the upright, supplicant bulbs of a vegetal pre-erection.
The insect lovers seem to be transferring the cosmos into each other
by attaching at the tail, holding utterly still, and quivering intently.

I think (on what evidence?) that they are different from us.
That they mate and are done with mating.
They don’t carry all this half-mated longing up out of childhood
and then go looking for it everywhere.
And so, I think, they can’t wound each other the way we do.
They don’t go through life dizzy or groggy with their hunger,
kill with it, smear it on everything, though it is perhaps also true
that nothing happens to them quite like what happens to us
when the blue-backed swallow dips swiftly toward the green pond
and the pond’s green-and-blue reflected swallow marries it a moment
in the reflected sky and the heart goes out to the end of the rope
it has been throwing into abyss after abyss, and a singing shimmers
from every color the morning has risen into.

My insect instructors have stilled, they are probably stuck together
in some bliss and minute pulse of after-longing
evolution worked out to suck the last juice of the world
into the receiver body. They can’t separate probably
until it is done.

Robert Hass, “Dragonflies Mating” from Sun Under Wood. Copyright �© 1996 by Robert Hass.

Happy Birthday to me

2007-09-05T15:09:00.001-07:00

But its not all about me. . . more than half a century ago, my dear mother descended into the shadow of the valley of death to bring me into the world. I wish she were here to enjoy my day with me, but I honor her in all my thoughts today.

Q for love

2007-09-04T09:55:00.000-07:00

"If you have it [love], you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have."

-- James M. Barrie

Yes, I can feel so now.

2007-09-01T22:04:00.000-07:00

How can you not look at this little boy and not want to smile? I think he has a secret, maybe a joke, something wonderful he's just busting to share. He is feeling grand; I can feel it.

How can we not hear the music of Zion, especially when it stirs our souls, and not want to sing? It's happened to most of us, those moments when you get carried away, when you know the God of Heaven lives, when you simply want to cry out and acknowledge, "It's True!"

Such a moment happened to me today. I was sorting through old emails and came across a large file. "What's this?" I thought to myself. It was an MP3 file I hadn't had time to download when I received it, then I'd forgotten to get back to it. Now it was Saturday morning, the house was still, and I had an extra minute. The music was by the BYU Men's Chorus, singing "I Love the Lord," text taken largely from 2 Nephi 4, and arranged to the tune of "Be Still, My Soul."

Here are the words:

I love the Lord. In him my soul delights.
Upon his word, I ponder day and night.
He's heard my cry, brought visions to my sleep,
And kept me safe o'er deserts and the deep.
He's filled my heart with his consuming love,
And borne me high on wings of his great dove.

Yet oft I groan,"O wretched man am I!"
My flesh is weak and I'm encompassed by
A world of sin, which holds me in its thrall,
If I give in and to temptations fall.
Then strength grows slack, I waste in sorrow's vale.
My peace destroyed, my enemies prevail.

Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin.
Rejoice, my heart! And let me praise again
The Lord my God, who is my rock and stay
To keep me strict upon his straight, plain way.
O let me shake at the first sight of sin
And thus escape my foes without and in.

I love the Lord. In him my soul delights.

I wish I could figure out how to attach the MP3 file to this post. If Blogger has a widget and someone knows how to use it, please give me a clue.

I had quickly scanned these words when my friend sent the email, and thought "that's nice." But usually it takes more than just words to move us. Somehow the sound of the choir, the exquisite harmony of men's voices in perfect unity took on life, and it grabbed me by my heart. Tears began to stream down my face and I had to just let the feeling of the Spirit flow, slow at first, then in heartfelt sobs as I reveled in the fire of my faith. Yes, I could feel as though no doubt ever existed in my life. I could feel only praise for so sublime a plan as the Lord's perfect Atonement. My love and adoration for Him was sent on the wings of prayer to on high.

How is this so? I don't know, other than it's been a while since I really pondered on my love for God. I wish I could reproduce these kind of feelings on demand, but I acknowledge they are a gift of the Spirit. Grace happens. It's like experiencing a vivid dream and for some unexplainable reason, it all makes perfect sense. But when you wake up and try to explain it to another, it somehow falls apart. We live in a world of great beauty and ugliness, light and varying shades of darkness. We must go through turbulent waters on our journey to the infinite. But today I felt my true love flowing again, it felt wonderful, and that feeling has lifted my hope to new heights.

Q for the Eunuchs

2007-08-31T08:37:00.000-07:00

"One of the secrets of life is to make stepping stones

out of stumbling blocks."

-- Jack Penn

Q for image

2007-08-30T08:42:00.000-07:00

"The world is a great mirror.

It reflects back to you

what you are.”

-- Thomas Dreier

Poem: At a Window

2007-08-28T09:05:00.000-07:00

At a Window

Give me hunger,

O you gods that sit and give

The world its orders.

Give me hunger, pain and want,

Shut me out with shame and failure

From your doors of gold and fame,

Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger!

But leave me a little love,

A voice to speak to me in the day end,

A hand to touch me in the dark room

Breaking the long loneliness.

In the dusk of day-shapes

Blurring the sunset,

One little wandering, western star

Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.

Let me go to the window,

Watch there the day-shapes of dusk

And wait and know the coming

Of a little love.

Carl Sandburg

Better Out Than In

2007-08-27T14:09:00.000-07:00

My wife had a Cockney grandmother whose favorite saying, whenever she'd pass a fart was, "Better out than in!" Ah yes, this is certainly true, in both the real and analogous senses.

I had a really nice Saturday afternoon with my son-in-law. We painted my adult daughter's office in the morning, had lunch and did some odd jobs together around the house, then hung out for an hour or so in the pool. My wife had gone shopping with my daughter, which allowed time for just the two of us. So I asked him, "Did I do the right thing, in telling you two of my orientation, and sharing my blog, or has it been too much information to handle?" He said, "Absolutely a good thing. Speaking as her husband, this has been so good for my wife, to put things together and sort out some of her family questions from the past. Changing some of her assumptions has caused her to adopt a new paradigm for viewing the family and herself. We now have greater understanding and such respect for you and the Moho's in the bloggosphere."

My daughter has felt somewhat disenfranchised at times from mainstream Mormonism, because of her passionate feminist viewpoints, and so to see what some gay LDS people are dealing with in terms of sacrifice and faith has been expanding for her. She has been a reader of Feminist Mormon Housewives and the like, but the Mohosphere is new territory, one that she didn't realize existed. Some things come full circle: it was her blog-reading that piqued my curiosity in blogging and initiated my search for greater meaning through writing and sharing. And my coming out to them has helped her to better understand her emotional and attitudinal roots, and has given her a greater respect for both her parents and their individual struggles. This was my principal hope in sharing when I was faced with the "Shall I tell them?" moment. In a word, I'm glad I took the risk and opened up when I had the opportunity.

Q for the old

2007-08-23T09:55:00.000-07:00

"Youth

is a gift of nature,

Age

is a work of art."

-- Helen M. Carrall

Testimony and the Trial of Faith

2007-08-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I was moved to reflection on my testimony in a post by Beck, "Can ye feel so now?" wherein he stated,

But "good" and "righteous" and "right" don't feel as "good" and "righteous" and "right" as they once did. Such words have lost their power and meaning. Why? What has changed?...Why can't my world be black-and-white clear and exact again as it once was? Will I ever have the unquestioning faith that I once had?

Or I might add, where is that straight rod of iron which leads to the Tree of Life? And if I find it, will I hold onto it?

Why should we care? Because a key tenet of our faith is latching onto truth, God's Truth, not man's truth. I wouldn't want to believe in something that maybe is true, or go through a bunch of denial only to find out it really didn't matter.

Relative truth, or the "Spirit of the Law" is so much more difficult to define and comprehend than the standard answers we hear in Primary, Sunday School and most Sacrament Meeting talks. Maybe I will regain surety of knowledge when I'm kneeling at the feet of Jesus, washing the dust off with my tears. But for this life, I have chosen to step off into the vast unknown space of hope, realizing that sure knowledge comes by trial and faith, and if I'm persistent, by revelation. I do this because the perfect mold of Black & White Mormonism doesn't really fit for me. The generic faith answers don't square with the scope of my experience. And yet I know God lives, I have felt His love, and the Spirit has confirmed the validity of the Gospel in my life.

One of my poems I published early on in my blog, Prairie Wind, speaks to the struggle we have in finding and keeping the Spirit alive in our daily walk, because we shut ourselves in and don't embrace the Spirit. I labored over this poem for a couple dark years, and couldn't get it finished until I moved out of the frozen prairies of Minnesota into the light and warmth of the Arizona sun! (No offence, JG-W!) My point is, we don't usually get our answers at the first asking, and we sometimes have to move on to new perspectives to realize truth and understanding in our mortal rear-view mirror.

The fact is, we change. We experience new vistas, new sin, new doubts, and new truth as we traverse through life. I chose to answer the angst in my poem with a veiled reference to the Savior's admonition to become as little children in seeking the Kingdom of God. But even this is not an easy answer to the doubts and fears that plague us, it is simply a guide. In our quest for conviction Beck asks the thorny question of whether our religious experience at church will ever again feel "right." I don't know. What matters to me is that I must feel right with God.

Case in point: of all the things that constitute party-line rhetoric in Mormon testimony meetings that I find somewhat discomforting, it is the phrase "the only TRUE church." I have great faith in the Gospel of Jesus Christ because I have felt repeatedly the gift of forgiveness; I know the Priesthood is real because I have felt and been an instrument of its power; I know we have a prophet who speaks for God because I have felt the Holy Ghost testify to me that this is so. But don't ask me to smugly recite the 'only true and living' phrase because it doesn't fit my personal experience and observation. I have too great a love and respect for people of faith practicing other world religions, and know of God's love for them, to say something that implies for me that God doesn't direct and reveal Himself to them as well. I realize our church teaches people of other faiths can be inspired, but adhering to 'the only true and living church' for me runs the risk of being condescending and doesn't match my personal faith in God's universe, therefore I don't say or believe such things. I cannot imagine God's celestial garden being only red roses, not that they aren't "true," but that the diversity and beauty of His real garden of life is simply so much more wonderful and compelling.

So how does my kind of testimony stack up? Well, I might be accused of 'relativistic morality' or 'buffet line faith.' This assessment certainly hits the fan of rigid dogma as it relates to gay lifestyles, feminism or you name it. I know we can find ourselves outside mainstream Mormonism when we start developing special cases for our situation, especially if our belief system runs counter-current to recorded teachings by apostles or prophets. However, I think a relative faith, taylored by personal revelation can cope. I realize this kind of faith causes some concern to our 'straight' brothers and sisters for our eternal salvation, but this is our problem, not theirs.

How do you think God will judge the peoples of the world's diverse belief systems? I don't think it will be by Mormon theology. I believe He will judge and reward people according to their faith and love, the desire and intent of each individual heart, and as demonstrated by personal observance, just like us.

If I think God will show latitude in judging the diverse peoples of dispensations and cultures, shouldn't I think he would do the same for me, even under the mantle of Mormonhood? If I am willing to venture in my faith where others of the church are cautious, my only constraint is this: I should deeply believe that I am "right" in light of the Holy Ghost guiding my belief, and then I must live my belief with integrity, because that will be the measure by which I will be judged. Otherwise, my self-fashioned religion is only a convenient farce.

Q for friends

2007-08-20T10:22:00.000-07:00

"Laughter is the shortest distance between two people."

-- Victor Borge

Bobbingness

2007-08-16T08:44:00.000-07:00

Here is my supreme trial in life: consistency of faith and action. This is where I toil and feel most often like I'm coming up short. I'm sure I'm not the only one who struggles with this dilemma, but I take it personally. The crux of my dissatisfaction when I'm on the low end is wondering where the integrity of my heart is. The desire to pray and desire to feast from the scriptures are two crucial actions I have direct control of, yet I often fail to do this with intensity or regularity. For example, lately I've been much more interested in blogging than either praying or studying the scriptures. (Maybe it's because I seem to feel more interaction and feedback from the Spirit doing this than with the other more routine religious activities.)

Almost 2 weeks ago, "L" posted thoughts on a change of heart, which stemmed from the LDS Family Services' Addiction Recovery Manual, Step 6: KEY PRINCIPLE: Become entirely ready to have God remove all your character weaknesses.

Admittedly, I struggle with the concept of healing, and was feeling a willingness to be exposed at the moment I left this comment in response to L's ideas:

"A Change of Heart...Bobbing up and down, as I tend to do in life, is the hardest thing for me to deal with in my faith. How many times will I make the same stupid mistakes and acknowledge that yet again, my randomness doesn't work or bring me fulfillment? It's hard to pray always, read the scriptures with real intent and maintain fervent belief when my behavior seems all over the board. I'm a perfectionist and I doubt I'll ever be perfectly happy with myself. It's not that I lack love for the Lord or that I don't try hard--I do. But carrying on with faithful desire, realizing that I probably won't measure up in the end to the Lord's standards, based on my prior performance, is the angst I struggle with most."

Now, it is my belief that to admit to sin and weakness is not self-loathing, but a vital step in the process of change and improvement. However, if we are trapped in a cycle of failure and self-condemnation, then we often don't like ourselves very much, and it's hard to have faith in anything. So, how can we overcome feelings of inadequacy, be patient with ourselves, and experience a lasting change of heart? At times it seems so overwhelming.

I think we need to be willing, have faith it will happen and accept the Grace that is already evident in our lives.

I also think the answers are in Steps 7 through 12: humility, seeking forgiveness, restitution and reconciliation, daily accountability, personal revelation and service. This is simply the gospel plan. Our overcoming will probably not be a "poof (!) then gone" experience for us. This doesn't seem to be the typical healing we see in the lives of any saints, SSA or otherwise.

Growth for me seems slow, like the dews from heaven. Yet I can look back on my life and realize much progress. But my immediate-gratification self longs for more spirituality, especially the rich spirtual blessings detailed in my Patriarchal Blessing. I ask myself,

"Will I ever achieve these in my lifetime?"

When I'm distracted with self-doubt, bobbing up and down between spirituality and failure, the answer is usually, "No."

When I'm on the upswing, grateful for my many blessings, filled with love for my wife and family and in control of my angst and attractions, the answer is:
"Yes, God willing."

Q for the simple

2007-08-15T09:08:00.000-07:00

"I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all."

-- Laura Ingalls Wilder

Q for the Soul

2007-08-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

"The Soul is dyed by the color of it’s thoughts.
Think only of those things that are in line with
your principles and can bear the light of day.
The content of your character is your choice.
Day by day, what you do is who you become."

--Heraclitus—

I thought this quote was appropriate to consider, in light of speaking with 'no guile.' A key here is understanding our principles and not being ashamed to own them. And I really like the last line, because I've seen in my own life how I've evolved into the person I am.

Speak No Guile

2007-08-13T08:51:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I went to the Mesa Temple to be with one of my Young Men who was receiving his endowment. However, the temple was packed and I was unable to get into his session, so I decided to do initiatory ordinances instead. It's been a while since I've done this, and after 10 names, the words and meaning impressed upon my mind.

Earlier, in my post on profanity, I posed the question about what words are appropriate in expressing our feelings. I think I got my answer on Saturday: let us 'never speak guile.'

Guile. noun. "insidious cunning in attaining a goal; crafty or artful deception; duplicity. "

Nowhere in the definition of guile is mentioned the type of language or our choice of words in communicating. I believe the Lord is more concerned with personal honesty. Our self-righteous lips may utter no profanity, but if we intend to deceive others with pleasing words, then we have denied the Lord's expectations for us.

The Chambered Nautilus

2007-08-10T15:32:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to a referral in Bored in Vernal's blog, extolling the beauty of this poem, I have something of value I wish to share:

The Chambered Nautilus

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,

Sail the unshadowed main,

The venturous bark that flings

On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings

In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,

And coral reefs lie bare,

Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;

Wrecked is the ship of pearl!

And every chambered cell,

Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,

As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,

Before thee lies revealed,

Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!

Year after year beheld the silent toil

That spread his lustrous coil;

Still, as the spiral grew,

He left the past year’s dwelling for the new,

Stole with soft step its shining archway through,

Built up its idle door,

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,

Child of the wandering sea,

Cast from her lap, forlorn!

From thy dead lips a clearer note is born

Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn;

While on mine ear it rings,

Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,

As the swift seasons roll!

Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, nobler than the last,

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,

Till thou at length art free,

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea!

– Oliver Wendell Holmes

At first glance while reading this poem, it came across to me as nice, but rather random. Why would this poem be considered so special to BiV? As I reread and considered, the poem began to unveil its beauty to me. Such it is with the gospel and with people who turn out to be good friends.

I had a vague image in my mind of the chambered nautilus, so I went and refreshed my memory. It is a curious being that floats and swims in south Asian oceans, and builds a lovely shell of progressively larger chambers through it's lifecycle, forming a nearly perfect equiangular spiral. This humble animal is a magnificent example of our Creator's genius!

The sophisticated beauty of this poem is two-fold: its structure and its deep analogy. If you go back and look at the author's devices in constructing the poem, you'll find that all the stanzas follow a pre-meditated pattern. The stanzas each consist of 7 lines, with a rhyming scheme that goes aabbbcc. Not only do the vowels repeat predictably, but the rhythm also repeats: the number of syllables in each line of each stanza follows the pattern 10, 6, 6, 10, 10, 6, 12.

Why go to all this trouble? First, the poem is meant to be auditory, to be shared. Secondly, it lends a design and exquisiteness to the ideas expressed. When I write a poem, like 'Skinny Dipping,' I have a general idea of what I want to say, but the exercise of making the words fit into a desired structure pushes me to word places and meaning that would never happen if I took the first random thought that came to mind. It is conformance to will that shapes the deeper meaning of the poem, the same as in observing the gospel's demands. And herein lies the creative and inspiring process experienced by poets, as well as Disciples.

The wonderful imagery and metaphor of Holmes' The Chambered Nautilus communicates beautifullly to me that we must move on through life, continually making for ourselves new 'temples' of abode, bigger and better, until one day we join the infinite. This is our doctrine of eternal progression. It inspires me to not short-change or discount my experiences of mortal life, but to learn and grow and plan to build 'more stately mansions' of my soul. The poem also lends the image of sealing off the past, that it is our present where must live; however, the empty chambers of the soul still serve a valuable function to keep us buoyant and moving on in eternity's expanse.

Profanity, would you like that mild, medium or not at all?

2007-08-09T08:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was definitely feeling edgy. I posted my quote for the day blog, but then later went back to make an additional comment because there was more I wanted to say... the stuff inside that was bugging me. I'm a creative, an innovator trying to make change happen, and at times I feel stifled at work because change is slow.

So, among other things I made this comment: "Just tell me your truth, I'm tired of bullshit." Later I read JGW's insightful comment, which was kind in admonishing the truth of not jumping to conclusions, that things are not always what they seem, and that we can learn from others if we aren't too reactive and learn to keep our mouths shut. (Thank you, John, you're right!) And then I felt a tinge of guilt for using the B word.

My wife gets a little upset with me anytime I let slip out a little mild profanity. There isn't a damn, hell or shit that I can ever say without an immediate rebuke or raised eyebrow! But I like to use these words for a little theatre, to express my feelings with a bit more passion. They have affect for me because I don't use them very often; they draw attention to what I'm trying to say.

Certainly there are various forms and intensities that can be used in expressing profanity. I tend use only the mild forms, like what I grew up with in my non-LDS home. There are more times that I think in such words than when I say them. I do get uncomfortable when I hear the Lord's name used in vain, especially if it's repetitive and intense, the same goes for the F word.

Okay, so the Moho blogs have talked in circles about the Mormon taboos of pornography and masturbation; how about a little profanity? When and where, if at all, does profanity have a place in our lives? We certainly encounter many such words in our daily world, and it's rampant in gay culture. Is it something that we should just accept and live with, or should we try to 'overcome' it? (That was for you, Beck!) And "flip," what about substitute words? Is anything appropriate?

Quotes for the day...

2007-08-07T13:01:00.000-07:00

I'm finding it hard to come up with a fresh idea here in the Moho blogosphere. I mean, we have our pet topics. These are invigorated by our sharing individual experiences and insights. But, we don't usually post strategies on things like world hunger, global warming, or even whine about how lousy our current political system is (thank goodness!). Our tastes seem to be more personal and philosophical, which is really fine by me. As things come up in my life, I intend to talk about them, but I don't want to invent drama for myself, and I do want to have ongoing dialogue.

I love a good quote. Nice combinations of words or a singular idea is just what my bobbing mind likes to grab ahold of, and then another one, and another one. . . but I digress. I collect quotes that I tend to harmonize with, to remind me of the good and the true or the poignant.

So, I am going to start posting a quote every other day or so, since I have pages of them. Maybe I'll include an analogous photo, a short commentary or a question thrown out there, and see where it goes. Here's one I have posted in my cubicle at work, as a warning to all who enter:

"The truth is always exciting.

Speak it then.

Life is dull without it."
Pearl S. Buck

Take time to enjoy a sunset.

2007-08-06T15:57:00.001-07:00

Usery Sunset and Saguaro
Originally uploaded by sundevilstormin

It's 'Monsoon Season' in Arizona. That means higher humidity and rainstorms in the afternoon and evening. While others complain about the overcast skies and occasional cloudbursts, I watch for the contrasting beauty of cloudy sunsets and marvel at how wonderful a creation the earth and sky are.

I hope you all do the same.

Poem: Cowlick

2007-08-03T19:06:00.000-07:00

Oh please, do I have to bring it up again?
Some pesky little things ya just live with.
And long as I can remember, my cowlick
Was always there. Yeah, I didn’t wake up
One morning fightin' off a rough tongue
Caress from some overly passionate cow!
I wasn’t born in a barn, ya know. (But it
Sure would make a sweet storyline, though.)
Nope, I guess I came out the chute that way.

Yup, never asked for damned pointy-up hair,
Right in front, and refusin' to lie down and
Act respectable. Yeah, cowlicks can surely
Be kinda embarrassin' sometimes. I mean,
Bad hairs goin' the wrong direction aren’t
What you want to talk about with nice folks,
Except maybe your Barber. Shucks, I tried
Special haircuts, gels and the like, but it
Always liked to fight back, given a chance.

Now I hoped maybe one day, after a few
Years of trainin', it might somehow conform
To my persistent combing and secret prayers.
Nope, it never happened. My cowlick still
Insists on going its own way, so to say.
Just because everyone else’s hair acts all
Normal like, don’t mean my rebellion hair
Wants to grow anywhere but straight up.
Try as I might, it just likes projectile location.

So what to do? Chop it off? No freakin' way!
Why should a cowlick matter, anyways?
Guess I’ll accept it the way it is and enjoy it.
Actually, to be honest (for once), I’ve grown
Rather fond of my old friend, that cowlick.
Hell, it’s a unique part of me that demands
A little extra attention, but ya know what?
At least I still got a full head of hair, which is
More than some high-minded folks can say.

.

A Letter to my 'Single' MoHo friends

2007-07-29T21:50:00.000-07:00

Preamble: I've been reading some of the single brother Moho blogs expressing concern or doubt that they could ever marry. The desire welled up in me to share the story of my mixed-orientation-marriage (MOM), in hopes that you might consider and benefit from my personal experience. I am no gold standard. I'll be pretty open in my account about the problems we faced, so please don't interpret my story as a negative warning--there have been great rewards along the way. If you someday choose to marry, I hope it will be because you feel directed by the Lord to do so. And may you avoid some of the errors I've made, which will allow you to focus on your own unique set of challenges! So, here goes...

Growing up through young adulthood I never felt a shred of masculinity or sexual attraction to women. Girls were my sisters. Deep down I feared I was more attracted to boys, because images of naked men were erotic to me, whereas images of naked women were kind of disgusting. But I was in denial about my attractions, and since I joined the LDS Church and was aware of the church's prohibitions, I generally repressed all feelings of sexuality as much as I could. I was determined to live the LDS 'happily-ever-after' lifestyle.

After about three years of post-mission dating, I wasn't any further along the marriage path; I just wasn't getting romantically close to any of these 'sisters' of mine. Then I started dating this young woman who showed a streak of independent promise; after several dates she had the audacity to say to me, "Are you just going to be my friend, because if so, I'm not interested. I've got enough friends. Where are you coming from?" I was challenged to start owning some feelings and to make a commitment one way or the other. I liked that forthrightness, and I really liked her.

So how or why did I get married? Sure, I had wanted an eternal companion and a family, and it seemed like the only option at the time. But the real reason I took the leap was that I prayed in faith about this young woman I was dating and wham, I got a direct answer. It kind of surprised me. Now what to do? Ignore it? The Spirit had given me a powerful witness to proceed, so I stumbled down the "will you marry me" path totally out of blind hope and obedience, and she said "yes." The engagement period was kind of rocky, a few red flags, but I had had this witness and I was determined to go through with it. We even talked in detail about our sexual histories in the spirit of full disclosure, but in retrospect we were generally unaware of the downstream effects, or what we were getting into. We married in the Manti Temple and headed down the next path to 'happily ever after.'

At first, married life was mostly no different than I expected. We were in school and found plenty of time to play together; we dreamed of the future, we did practically everything together, I was in love and I was happy, most of the time. There were occasional conflicts, but we were pretty good at talking our way through the difficulties, and she usually let me win. The role of power began to shift in my direction, so subtly at first I didn't recognize it, but in time I became the decision-maker, and she the subordinate. I lost my independent, self-assured eternal companion.

Erosion of marital equality also affected the whole topic of my same gender attraction (SGA), which turned out to really make my wife even more insecure. So, I pretty much went into hiding, to spare her the pain. That was a big mistake--I created distance for myself, and my isolation spared her nothing. We both suffered. I had no one to really talk to, to resolve my turmoil, and it eventually became a wedge of distrust between us. Life in the work world became demanding, and I could blame a lot of dissatisfaction on that. At home there was always another diaper to change, bills to pay and the honey-do list. I longed for intimacy and understanding, but for my most vital emotions, I had little of either.

I confess I honestly thought my SGA would go away with an active sex life. I was wrong. In some ways, my SGA got even stronger because I was no longer repressing my sexuality. I hungered. I'm lucky I didn't break my marriage covenants, given the peripheral exploring I did. I had a few offers for anonymous gay sex, but always backed away because I knew it just was so terribly wrong to my wife. I think that if I had not received so sure a witness, an actual physical manifestation I felt and didn't make up for myself, I would have eventually abandoned the marriage and the church because of the internal conflict and unhappiness I was struggling with. But how could I walk away from my family and from doing what the Lord told me to do, even if I wasn't sure at the time if I would do it all over again? The answer was I couldn't leave, I wouldn't retreat, so I just hung in there.

Despite our individual issues, my dear wife has been my loyal friend and supporter through the years. She has been willing to take me mostly as is; it's been more difficult for me to return the favor. I now realize it's not easy being married to a creative perfectionist who is rarely pleased with anything. So it was hard for me to be praise-giving or just grateful for her simple gifts of motherhood and devotion. Mostly I saw the mess and chaos, picked up the pieces and inwardly resented it. It wasn't until I learned how I'd injured her that I began to change my heart. I love her again, for having faith and patience in me, despite my self-centeredness.

Well, to make a long story short, it's been a long row to hoe, but definitely worth it. I've grown up. We've both matured in so many ways. We've been through our share of counseling, endured moments of great pain and tears inflicted upon each other, and yet there is love and loyalty. Despite our problems, we lived the gospel in our home and we managed to have a wonderful family. I'm thankful for three beautiful daughters, for their individual lives and the role I've developed as a loving father; it all brings such meaning to my life.

It's taken me a long time to come to terms with my orientation and how to be satisfied in my marriage. By no means am I "healed" of my SGA. However, repenting means change, especially in how we view ourselves. Our journey isn't over, and we may still have serious hurdles in front of us, but I've come full circle and am now grateful for my marriage and its winding path. The ups and downs have revealed so much about me, stuff I would have never believed possible about myself if it had just been told me; I had to live it.

So, my dear younger single MoHo brothers, each of you have a MOM dilemma in front of you that will be unique to you. Each of you have your eyes much more wide open than I ever did at this crossroads in your life. My only advice is to simply and humbly seek the Spirit to direct you. Maybe you'll get an answer like I did, maybe you won't. Whatever the cost, get an answer and follow it; it is something to hang on to, a beacon for the soul.

Poem: Skinny Dipping

2007-07-27T08:35:00.000-07:00

Slide me quietly in without a ripple
To your warm pool, let it envelop me
With living wetness, suspending my
Exposed body in transparent fluidity.

Slowly move my sodden feet through your
Smooth resistance, pushing aside years
Of sinking fears, not sure whether tidal
Oceans would triumph over my tears.

Reach and pull the liquid past present
And recall the warmth of summer sun
On wet soaked heads of naked boys,
And splashing fights that laughter won.

There was a certain freedom felt then,
An exquisite joy that cool water lends
To the unclothed in murky green ponds
Of innocence, growing close friends.

Pure water, float me in your arms
Of mercy, listen to our varied voices
Echo the banter of bare bottomed boys
Happily unaware of time and choices.

Sparkle water, dancing ever brightly
In gentle waves of coy temptation,
I feel your presence at my open legs
And dream in my boyhood elation.

Despite my mute drops of saline grief
Which fill Bethsaida’s pool at times,
I dive down deep and hold my breath
For cleansing stream that upward climbs,
And releases new life within my death
That grants me being, beyond belief.

.

Critical Thinking -- The Golden Thread of Choice

2007-07-24T06:01:00.000-07:00

I love my boys, all eight of them. My job at church as Young Men's President aligns me with the Priest age group (16 - 18 years). I've never had boys, before Arizona. They are beautiful young men, full of spirit and impressionable.

This last Sunday in Priest's Quorum I taught a lesson on critical thinking that was in part a rebuttal. Earlier in the week, as part of our annual Stake Youth Conference, the invited keynote speaker (a local CES seminary teacher) used several trite mormonisms that I frankly disagreed with. My first clue that things were going in the wrong direction was when he read the poem "Invictus" and made no apologies for its proud and sometimes malevolent history (Timothy McVeigh used it as his final statement). I got more upset when the brother taught "there really is no agency--we just choose whether or not to break our covenants with God," and claimed this idea came from an apostle he heard speak at a local Priesthood Leadership Meeting. He went on to preach how the Gospel was black and white, and those who promote shades of gray are just complicating things.

Oh, that young minds could be white-washed so simply in one easy coating of mormonized guilt! But not on my watch.

I believe too often in the church we are led down the path of all or nothing. So, we played a little exercise I called, "Accept or Reject." Following is a list of some true, some partly true and some ridiculous religious statements, which I read to my class:

The Church is true.
Church leaders are always right.
It's wrong to be critical of the Church.
I have to follow the counsel of my Bishop.
Talks in Sacrament Meeting are always inspiring and help my testimony to grow.
I can pray about what to believe in, and will be led by the Spirit to truth.
Seminary teachers are inspired by God to help youth and only teach true doctrine.

Some but not all the boys answered in predictably acceptable fashion. When I asked if they felt comfortable in swallowing all the statements, none did. We then worked up a continuum decision scale of accept, agree with qualifications, don't care one way or the other, mostly disagree but acknowledge some valid points, and reject. Going back over my list of contrived statements was then much easier the second time around and applied better to our understanding.

Then I think I surprised them when I said my not-in-the-manual lesson topic was triggered by the youth conference speaker's remarks, which I did not agree with. Whoa! What did he say? Open dissent?! Yes. I said I wanted to take the opportunity to teach the process of critical thinking, and the exercise we had just done was a good starting point. So what of the speaker's points did I have a problem with and why? I reviewed my sticking points and replied with Orson F. Whitney's poem, "The Captain of My Soul."

Another way to evaluate what we hear at church is to consider it in proper context. Did the Apostle want or intend to be quoted to youth at a Stake Youth Conference? He was speaking to Bishoprics and Quorum leaders at a Priesthood Leadership meeting. Did the speaker quote him correctly, or was it filtered through his own bias and desire to make a point? I taught that we should rely on the words of Apostles as they are recorded in General Conference. Then I read this quote from Howard W Hunter, taken from his October 1989 General Conference address entitled "The Golden Thread of Choice":

"To fully understand this gift of agency and its inestimable worth, it is imperative that we understand that God’s chief way of acting is by persuasion and patience and long-suffering, not by coercion and stark confrontation. He acts by gentle solicitation and by sweet enticement. He always acts with unfailing respect for the freedom and independence that we possess. He wants to help us and pleads for the chance to assist us, but he will not do so in violation of our agency. He loves us too much to do that, and doing so would run counter to his divine character.
"Given the freedom to choose, we may, in fact, make wrong choices, bad choices, hurtful choices. And sometimes we do just that, but that is where the mission and mercy of Jesus Christ comes into full force and glory. He has taken upon himself the burden of all the world’s risk. He has provided a mediating atonement for the wrong choices we make. He is our advocate with the Father and has paid, in advance, for the faults and foolishness we often see in the exercise of our freedom. We must accept his gift, repent of those mistakes, and follow his commandments in order to take full advantage of this redemption. The offer is always there; the way is always open. We can always, even in our darkest hour and most disastrous errors, look to the Son of God and live."

Isn't this teaching so much richer than the accept/reject proposition of "we don't really have agency, just the choice whether or not to break our covenants?" My heavens, if it was the Seminary Teacher's way, why even try? I usually manage to break a commandment or two every day!

Our Bishop sat in on the lesson and reinforced at the end that we need to take people's "he said/she said" with a grain of salt, particularly if it sounds a bit extreme or glossed over. Finally, I closed with a statement that spilled over a little into heartfelt emotion, that I loved each of them, prayed for them, and desired them to think about how the gospel applied to them, and not take whatever is said at church just at face value. I hope they got the point.

Poem: Libera Me Domine

2007-07-16T10:31:00.000-07:00

I. The Snake

Smooth curling flesh, divider of light
And darkness, I will grab you by the neck
And not let go. Flow in the warm river of my body,
Gorging on hope and dreams, I will choke
Your ecstasy in the grip of my determination.

Twist and wrap around my heart, damn you.
In faltering moments I may stumble, but I will not
Lie down. Strike my tender spots, whip my face,
Raise a red welt for the whole world to see
And wonder, I am beyond embarrassment.

Poison my weary mind, seduce me with your
Venomous promise of rest, I will yet hang on
To an iron rod with my free hand, still strong.
I shall drive my fingers into your bitter darkness
And back out again into the sweet white fruit.

Snake of filthy waters, I will purge your ugly stain
With a clear torrent from the deep blue well of life.
Let my issue of blood pool and dry beneath the green
Delicate fronds of moss and maidenhair bordering
The spring, just beyond my tired aching fingers.

God, how I hate snakes! Hanging onto reptile rage,
Dare I ask for deliverance? Afraid of letting go,
Shall I find healing relief? Cold brutal scales,
Set in repeating bands of ochre and black, I find
No comfort in the illusion of your perfect symmetry.

II. The Stone

Born of silent deep blue waters,
Ancient mineral stone, cut without hands,
Worn by years of turning over and over again,
Back and forth in traveling tides,
The stone, the smooth rounded stone,
Now rests in my pocket.

I do not recall much of the day
We picked it up off the cold wet sand,
Admired the simple shape,
The silken patina of some distant place--
Gathered with common shells and driftwood,
The stone was a treasure.

Remembering you, I unconsciously reach
For the stone and turn it over and over again
Between my fingers and palm, rubbing in
The oils and sweat from my hand,
Warming the cool surface,
Polishing the rounded edges
With an essence of life.

At times I weep for the smooth touch
Of your hand, a silent glance
From your glistening deep blue eyes.
And I hold onto the stone,
Moments from some distant place
Worn smooth with time, turning them
Over and over again in my mind.

My stone is a treasure, I will not let go.

III. The Tree and the Hawk

Three outstretched limbs rest against the cool gray
Of November sky. What is it that lifts them up,
Embracing the stars? I watch the saga of seasons
Struggle against the resilience of oak. Buds no longer
Burst out in early April, spinning chartreuse energy
From the sun. The thick old tree stands tall,
Well acquainted with time, unconcerned with gravity.

Piece by piece, wind and ice have stripped away
All but the most rugged branches. Shards of bark
Quietly let go, revealing golden wood that silvers
With each setting sun. A new wave of young trees
Reach up around the old sentinel, garnering strength
From aged humus. Gone are the filtered shadows
From dense leaves that once portioned the light,
And hungry the saplings bristle towards the sun.

Facing the aura of morning and ruffled against the wind,
The hawk grips his hardwood perch high above
The stone river of quilted steel. Patchwork of colors
Ebb and flow in predictable waves of no apparent
Order. The traffic whines and roars, flies and crawls,
Unaware of its silent surveyor. How curious my world
Must appear through the sharp lens of avian eyes,
Accustomed to the minute details of mice and voles.

Every day over the stone river I glide past the great tree
And wonder how much longer will worn limbs give sanctuary.
I watch the hawk hang onto the tree, holding her up against
The sky. Shall my admiration of resistance overcome reality?
Time and termites eventually work what wind and ice will not
Wield alone. One day the hawk hovers down to the tree,
Lands in the usual place, and feels his perch give way.

Still gripping the familiar wood and beating the air with
Anxious wings, the hawk rises slowly, circles above the tree,
Knowing he must let go. Late in languid afternoon distant
Rumblings ripple slowly through humid calm. Possessing no
More peace offerings of incidental limbs, the tree waits for the
Furious dance with wind and rain. Raging black clouds
Backlit by the pale blue-green glow of deep energy hurl
A relentless barrage against her unyielding trunk.

Taking shelter in thick woods the hawk does not witness
The roar of light connecting his tree to the sky. In an instant
She is liberated to the earth and rests. Now there will be plenty
Of time and dark space for the building of burrows by woodland
Creatures. In the rising fuchsia of dawns, I watch for the circling
Hawk returning to search unfamiliar tops of trees for his favorite
Vantage point, wish to cry out with him, then silently move on.

.

Note to self--remember this

2007-07-12T19:38:00.000-07:00

Don't you hate it when you come up on the tail end of an interesting discussion, and everyone else is wrapping up and excusing themselves? Well, this probably happens a lot in the blogging world because we're not all in the same room at the same time, and we have to catch up on each other's conversations. So anyway, today I went over to Beck's blog and saw I'd missed his post-before-last entitled "Feeling very envious II". It is one of the most poignant soul-searching examinations I have read to date on the inner turmoil of what it means to be LDS, gay and married. And then I was equally touched by the JGW's comments as one speaking from the "green grass" on the other side of the partner commitment fence.

Alas, with 14 comments already posted it seemed to me that the party was over, but I still felt the urge to contribute something. So I'm copying my remarks here, because as I thought about it on the drive home from work, I want to be able to remind myself occasionally of the immediacy of my message. Here's a practical answer that may be so close to home that we don't give it enough consideration in our search for philosophical solutions.

Beck, my compliments to you--I don't think I've ever seen the Moho angst more articulately or honestly described than by you and your questions. I'm going to share this with my wife, if you don't mind, because it verbalizes so many of the raw doubts and feelings we share. It will be a good place for us to begin conversation. Have you shared this and the comments with your wife?

This leads me to the main point I want to make: Spend as much of your emotional and spiritual dollars as you possibly can on your wife. Replace the soul-searching, doubting, rehashing, guilty, self-condemning expenditures of energy with investments of love, openness, gratitude and time with your chosen companion.

I say this at the risk of being mis-interpreted as a trite Mormon fix-all to a very complex reality. But I've struggled with your same list of questions. And I'll tell you, the doubt can go even further--now add on top of that angst, later on via life's disappointments, a generous dose of frustration with, and lack of respect for that chosen "eternal" companion. That's where I was, in an even worse place to be stuck, because it sounds to me like you still admire and appreciate your wife.

So how have I gotten past all this angst and downward negativity? I went back to the base of all human need, the wellspring of love and gratitude. Despite her faults, my wife has been my loyal companion, my standard bearer, my friend, the devoted mother of my children, the unintentional victim of my never being quite satisfied with her. I've decided it's pay-back time, and I'm investing again in her. After 26 years of marriage, our needs remain fairly simple: she wants to be spoken to more often, played with, cherished, acknowledged, affirmed. . . and so do I.

I still have my issues, but I can remember her more often. Once I started this pattern of giving back, I find the SSA is getting easier to manage, I feel more secure, and I have on less critical filters of my own making, the design of my own self-centeredness.

Note to self: in your never-ending SSA saga of self-discovery and analysis, remember the one who remembers you daily in her prayers. I love you, Sweetie.

Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, well, sort of.

2007-07-10T06:37:00.000-07:00

A couple evenings ago while floating around in the pool beating the Arizona heat, I casually mentioned to my adult daughter that I had acknowledged how I was proud of her in a recent post. Immediately she was excited with the revelation that her father was blogging (maybe this was shocking since I am rather slow and old). Then she wanted to know my blog's name and my tagname. "Should I or shouldn't I?" flashed across my screen; I knew it would be like opening Pandora's box. Since I inherently have nothing to hide and I didn't want to tell her not to go there, I proceeded with the requested blog information. Now what to do--let her read my post of 8 randomly ragged facts, first of which is my admission to gayness, or do I tell her and my son-in-law the bare naked truth, face to face.

So, it was kind of like when she was 10 and I had to admit the truth that Santa was really an expression of love from her parents, give or take a few analogies to Jesus. Well, she took it like a big girl, but I could tell it was as hard for her as it was for me to disclose. We both cried. This was a coming out soon not to be forgotten, yet somewhat sweet in that now she could begin to put some of the pieces together as to why her parents are the way the are. Suddenly it begins to validate some of her mother's insecurities. My loyal companion wife has quietly endured for years the brunt of all my daughters' critical appraisal for her legion anxieties without a legitimate defense. And I, that uniquely liberal creative guy that was way more sensitive than most other guys and dads was just found out, but somehow I hope it made gut sense.

Even though I'm now suddenly "gecko" to my daughter, I'm still me, the same person who has trudged up and down the path of faith and fatigue, still pointed in the right direction. Has anything changed? Yes, our perspective, but not the actual facts of life, which are that I love you, wonderful daughter of mine.

Reflections at Lake Powell

2007-07-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

I wanted the 5 day trip to Lake Powell for my Young Men's group (ages 14-18 years) to be more than just playing around in the water. It is not often in our lives that we have the privilege to retreat from everything we normally live with, surround ourselves in glorious nature and just hang loose. I was hoping that the guys would take a small portion of each day for personal reflection, and so to facilitate that I came up with four daily sets of questions for them to ponder on. I don't think my reflection exercise was widely practised by the group (tubing with friends had stronger draw), but perhaps they'll think on these things in the future. I thought they were worthy of posting in my blog for me to go back to and for my friends to also consider.

Day 1: This journal exercise is all about defining your sense of self and personal mission. Living with integrity and following your righteous heart’s desire is vital to growing into mature manhood. This reflection time is just for you—-please be honest with yourself. Here are some questions to help you consider your life’s journey so far and where you want to go:

1. What do you really enjoy doing? Why? Does it make you happy? Why or why not?
2. What one big dream do you look forward to achieving in your life? Why?
3. When do you feel inspired? Who inspires you?

4. What role does conflict play in your life? How do you deal with rejection?
5. Considering your answers to the above questions, do you know what you want in your life? If you do, what is it? If you don’t, how do you think you could learn what you really want from your life’s journey?

Day 2: Here are some questions to reflect upon who you think you are, what and who has contributed to your sense of self:
1. Do you feel you’re growing into the man you always longed and desired to be one day?
2. What comparison source are you using to measure your progress to manhood? Would it be your peers, parents, family members, church leaders, the scriptures, the media culture or something else?
3. What do you fear? Why?
4. When you mess up, what do you usually do? Do you learn and change from your mistakes?
5. What life factors (good and bad) have helped you develop into the person you are today?

Day 3: Here are some questions to guide you in your journey by examining the men of influence in your life. Please consider your father, grandfathers, uncles, friends, teachers or church leaders, and the impact they have in your life:
1. In what ways do the men of influence in your life help you with your life goals, aspirations and dreams? And, in what ways have these persons influenced your actual daily behavior?
2. Who has made the biggest positive difference in your life and the direction you’re going? Why?
3. When you reflect on the men of influence in your life, what thoughts and emotions do you have about them? Could you possibly be such a person to others?
4. Do you currently have male friends that you are close to and can confide in and trust? If not, how important is it for you to find someone? What should you do?
5. What do you look for or need in a close friend? Do you think your current friendships help or hinder you in your journey to manhood?

Day 4: Here are some questions to consider how you share your life, and the influence that you may have upon others:
1. Do you want to be a man of influence in the lives of your family and friends? Why?
2. Do you try to lead by example in doing the right thing or by trying to help out your family and close friends? Is this a pattern in your life? Why or why not?
3. Do you forgive your friends when they are not their best selves? How do you show it?
4. Do you open up your heart and bear your soul to the important people in your life? Why or why not? How can openness help you in being a man of influence in the lives of others?
5. Do your friends trust and confide in you? Are you a loyal friend in the face of opposition?

Do we take time to reflect on ourselves, aspirations and relationships? I know I am largely in the thick of thin things, and seldom go through this kind of thoughtful analysis. I plan to talk more about some of these points in the future.

Tagged: {8 randomly ragged bits & pieces}

2007-07-07T20:28:00.000-07:00

Thanks to JGW and his evil friend, I'll play this rendering game and relinquish 8 relatively raw reminiscenses of myself. Watch out. When I find some unsuspecting souls to tag, I'll edit and include them in.

THE RULES 1. All right, here are the rules. 2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts. 3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves. 4. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. 5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

1. I like to dive into the deep end. However, posting these daring confessions is way beyond my comfort zone, because I like to live mostly in the closet. Well, sort of. My sweet wife wishes what she did know would just go away; my good friend and Bishop is supportive. I don't tell either of them everything. I'm not sure my adult daughters know of my orientation, but they appreciate my unique individuality and I suspect they claim a heritage to it, since they're all a bunch of Mormon feminists. I am proud of them and hope they rock the boat. . . without loosing their lifejackets. I struggle to know how and when to tell them, if ever. My dear mother lived the second half of her life with a wonderful woman friend, although we never talked about the closet. I suspect she felt it was never any of my business. I never told her either.

2. I've stuttered my way through life ever since, at age 10, my unconscious picked up on the fact that my parents were divorcing. I cursed this sensitivity for 30 years, until I realized that it was something to simply accept and appreciate for helping me to mold the man I am.

3. I wish I would have got that PhD in Dairy Chemistry. I am fascinated with the hydrophobicity of Beta Lactoglobulin and all things relating to Brownian movement (such is my life).

4. I have sung Tenor most of my adult life, but as I mellow and age, I'm discovering there is a rich Baritone lurking somewhere below the surface. Some day I will sing 'Libera Me Domine' from Foure's Requiem, and maybe then I'll get out of the closet. If not, I want it sung at my funeral.

5. Five is my favorite number. I don't know why, but it multiplies so nicely, doesn't it?

6. I joined the LDS Church at 17.967 years of age, and for the sake of religion became a Black Sheep in my mother's aspirations for me, especially when I left for a LDS mission and she wept on my shoulder, but still let me go with good grace. Note: I've always found off-colored sheep more interesting than white sheep. I've never aspired to be a white sheep. Truth be known, I feel more closely akin to goats.

7. I write poetry for myself, family and friends. Poems are a revelatory experience for me, not only in their creation, but in reading the work of others. I love Isaiah; a poem don't have to reveal itself all at once. If you feel so inclined, please leave me some of your thoughts with the poems in my blog.

8. I am the Ice Cream Man. I dream in ice cream. Actually, I invent new products for a major brand of ice cream and actually get paid for eating the stuff. Go ahead, lust after me, but watch your daily intake of saturated fat. Gecko ice cream is not currently in my dreams.

Poem: Face Towards Zion

2007-07-05T10:57:00.000-07:00

In the confidence of spring my heart vision searches
Distant mountain valleys, gazing over unknown oceans.
Shall I turn my back on the sweet green fields of home?
The bleating lambs follow their mothers for only so long,
Then find pastures of their own. I shall dream of prairies,
Endless as the sky, and full of the promise of tomorrow.

Leave behind the civility of fine things, the tender grasp
Of family and friends, never to see or embrace again.
I must bite my lip, let the tear crease a corner of my soul,
Yet move steadfastly forward, one foot in front of the other.
Oh, let me see beyond the mountains to glimpse the bright city
Where He that watches over neither slumbers nor sleeps.

Today I will hear his voice, I will kneel beside the quiet stream
And never thirst again. Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,
Along the endless muddy mire or hot dusty road, it matters not.
Gladly I pull my handcart to join Enoch and those of one heart!
And if only I am a stranger in the land, then let me face towards
Zion, while I gently close my eyes, and wait upon the Lord.

.

Poem: Outstretched Hand

2007-07-03T10:32:00.001-07:00

There is space in the economy of heaven
And yet he extends me to below the sky.
My land lies flat, like an outstretched hand.
Its small rising hills stretch out in fingers
From a palm of expansive dark water.
Where shall I walk in his valley of peace?

Barely the whisper of evening air stirs
The amber leaves along the glowing bank.
I stand beside the glassy shore and listen
To the murmur of silken water lapping
The handsome edges of round granite
Ground smooth ages ago by millennial ice.

There is a quiet hand reaching from the sky.
I search for the subtle point where mauve
And coral pinks became their own reflection.
Simple souls who stray beyond the shore
May not see the melding of the water’s line.
When shall I find the moment of his release?

Far on horizon, blazing edges of steely clouds
Pour molten light into the earth at a distance
Known only to lands not shrouded in dusk.
I think of his hand, outstretched and reaching
For those solid lines of light, not realizing
Why familiar faces reflect upon the wall.

There, in the misty-eyed surface of sky or water
Or faith, I dream of him, leaving the warm bed
And greeting the embrace of generations suddenly
Remembered, like green-mirrored reflections of
Sunrise, clasped upon the alters of templed hills.
Oh Father, how shall I not praise such increase?

.

Poem: Wind and Water

2007-07-01T14:11:00.000-07:00

I stood among the silent crowd
Of boulders and Cottonwoods
At dusk, between luminous walls
Of stone in Zion’s canyon.
Unexpectedly you came, fresh
Like ocean rain at dawn.
For a moment I tried to hold you
Tight as sand in the smallness
Of my hand, but I could feel you
Weeping through my fingers.

The warm wind will carry you up
Invisible from the dust at my feet
To sing among the jade leaves
Dancing high beyond my reach.
And I will have to be content to wait
For your choruses of wind and water
To send me the cool rushing stream,
To roll the rough stones and wear them
Until they are smooth.

.

Alter to the Son God

2007-06-30T08:26:00.000-07:00

I have just returned home after enjoying the company of church brothers and young men in an annual "Super-Activity" retreat to Lake Powell for almost a week. It is a place I have always wanted to go and experience. I serve as Young Men's President in my ward, and this trip was a culmination of months of planning; it was great fun, lots of bonding moments, very hot, and all worth it.

We camped on the east shore of Warm Creek Bay, and thanks to a rather uncomfortable cot, I was often awake for the morning's very first light. Looking west, I repeatedly watched the face of Castle Rock, a monolythic mound of sandstone shaped somewhat like that island castle in France, light up like a celestial city across the wide calm of blue glass water. A couple days into the trip I hiked up to a sandstone ridge overlooking the camp and the bay for a better view.

The top of the sandstone ridge was fascinating and the stone tended to cleave in rather flat columns of various widths and lengths, but in very regular obtuse and sharp angles. As I was admiring all the beauty around me, I saw a particular shaft of stone that was fairly thick and over three feet long. In a moment of inspiration I knew what I wanted to do: I erected it lengthwise and gathered other stones around its base to secure it from toppling over. It was a symbol to me of the strength of manhood and the creation all around me.

To further make the point, I gathered smaller stones and arranged them on the top head of the tall stone in a deliberate ejaculatory representation. This was an offering of praise from me to my Father above. Then something interesting happened. As I was walking down the hill from the ridge I met another brother who was headed up to the ridge. Suddenly I experienced feelings of shame and embarrassment! I offered to go with him and deftly decoyed him away from my monument.

As I was thinking about this later in the day, I reflected on how we tend to hide the things that are significant and sometimes difficult to us, particularly man to man. And yes, we should make choices and act within the bounds the Lord has set, but should we be so shy about what we're feeling, even if it is out there on the fringes? As I analyzed my discomfort of almost being "discovered," I realized that the fear was mostly that of being mis-interpretted. I was not raising a hedonistic phallus to call the world to pleasure; I was being a man that was simply glad to be a man. Funny how something so simple could be overlooked and then overcome by fear of ridicule by the very brothers I was growing close to at the camp.

The next day I went up to the ridge to tear down my alter. But when I got up there, I just couldn't do it. I felt it best to remove the obvious suggestions that could misrepresent my intentions, and instead made with the round stones a representation of the Sun, with rays projecting from the center. And down at the base of my alter I again made several additions: several sharply triangular stones pointing up representing truth and higher knowledge, a heart-shaped stone I found nearby placed on top of a red womb-shaped stone, and yes, a smaller phallic representation of man's creative ability.

This redesign signified to me putting things in better order: on the top of the stone, an acknowledgement of the source of light in our lives, and below at different levels, the needs of men and women to find happiness and purpose in life.

If and when someone discovers my alter to the Son God, granting the elements do not obliterate its symbolic effects, would it still be mis-interpretted? Probably. But I didn't make my alter for them. I made it for me, to say what I wanted to say to my Father in Heaven. If someone stumbles upon it in the near future and is disgusted by anything about it, that is for them to sort out. I am now comfortable with that and any other outcome.

Poem: Prairie Wind

2007-06-18T09:29:00.000-07:00

The voice begins as a breeze, soft like the flutter
Of flightless wings on chicks, settling among the frail
Willows, gently moving the aching branches of early
Spring in a random harmony of motion. I wait for the
Braille song of the wind to whisper its single melody,
But my wanting ears confound its simple hearing.

Oh, I have desire for wind, the kind that roars into place,
That gives evidence of power. I have heard the wind speak,
Seen it wrestle the branches until I feared for the trees.
But this morning, in the brilliant calm of orange sunrise,
I am blind for sight with sound. The bare black soil lies
Hard and cold, its straight-line furrows windswept.

Beyond my walls, past my silicon panels of perception,
The wind now sails. I watch sparrows sling themselves
To high limbs, never falling to the ground, translated on
Unseen current. If only I could get off the ground,
Believe in the wind enough to grasp its full embrace,
I would let it lift me, beyond the treetops.

Come, the constant wind beckons. Venture outside
Your little box to feel the pull of fresh cool air against
Your face, raising you again in warm tingling sensation.
Let me speak to your horizon of places far away and often
Dreamed of! There I shall give you unspeakable gifts:
Children’s voices ringing like the bells of towers singing.

.

What to do with a shovel

2007-06-17T23:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday in another forum I posted a reply to an individual who was expressing concern about the narrow worldview that some LDS people have with regard to religion. I shared an experience that my brother, who is not a member of the Mormon church, related to me a long time ago. This actually happened to him, and I think he was sharing it with me to make a point about my own religious observance. My brother's story and its subtle implications quietly bothered me for years.

My brother worked in a gravel pit, running a rock crusher. At the time he was less than 20 years old, and he was head over heals with a nice girl that was devoutly Southern Baptist. Although my family was never religious, my brother was actually considering going into the Ministry, just to please her. Well, there was a crusty old foreman that was running the operation, and one day after listening to my brother's aspirations, he offered his advice with an object lesson.

The foreman took his shovel and put the spade-end of it right up into my brother's face. "Okay Bob, tell me what you see." My brother's reply was simple, "A shovel." Then the foreman stepped back about ten feet and said, "Now, what do you see?" My brother's answer was more revealing: "Well, I see you and the shovel. I see the gravel pit, the crusher and the front-end loader. I see the river, the trees and the sky. The old foreman replied, "Exactly. Do you get my point?"

My brother said he got the point, and after some consideration he decided the Ministry was not for him. More than that, he decided he had been a little crazy about this girl, and that he'd momentarily lost sight of the real world, and that religion in general was not for him either. He has since lived his adult life fairly void of any religion.

And so I've sometimes asked myself, "Do I have a shovel in my face? Is there more to life than this shovel?"

Here's the answer that I've worked out for myself. Jesus never intended for us to have a shovel in our face. A shovel is a tool that is designed to accomplish work, not obstruct vision. The shovel of religion is best used with a strong arm, a strong back, and a sharp mind that has a purpose in using it. We need to have balance in our lives, and the perspective of others is vital, even enriching. There are lots of ways to use a shovel; in fact, there are many kinds of shovels that do different things. And so it is with religion. The good Lord and Foreman of us all appreciates all his workers, whether or not they own genuine Craftsman® brand shovels.

I believe the 'restored gospel' is all-encompassing of human diversity as well as our individual needs, if we allow it to be by being faithful to the rather simple requests of the commandments the Lord has given us. The fact that our LDS religion actually requires us to walk the talk is indeed one of the key attributes that some in the world are critical of. In the final analysis, if we choose a life of faith, we need to also make the choice to be obedient to the Lord's standards, as described in the scriptures, whether or not we put the shovel to our face or use it at arm's length.

Poem: Gecko

2007-06-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

The only reason I see him
Is for silly bobbing up and down
Over the roughness of stone wall;
Otherwise, he would blend in among
The rocks, mortar and twigs of rose bush.

I try clumsily to imagine his beating heart,
His worldview through tiny grey eyes
That drives his simple existence,
Compelling him up and down,
Revealing his very being.

I do not know why I go
Back and forth between two
Rhythms, exposing my humanity
Against a porous terrain of arrogance
Unaware as hot stone, just as unyielding.

Yet my desires that pulse for recognition
Will not be requited in man’s mortar
Connecting pride and willpower,
Rather in my heart’s quiet hum
Must I linger in patience.

There thirst for sweetness
Of rose nectar blooming still
Beyond the wall on living stems;
I shall not want for the narrow view
That blinks and retreats from bright sun.

If I am destined to bobbing up and down
While making the meaning of my life,
I’ll chance to confess a simple view
Clinging to the Rock I’m on, and
Risk loosing my tail for cover.

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