Expect More: A Soapbox Response to a News Article and the Comment that Followed

I guess it is time for me to get up on my soapbox about a comment that was made to a link I saw in my News Feed on Facebook. The article was through Edge Media Network and is about a lawsuit that was filed Tuesday in Mississippi and the lawsuit says gay students are being bullied in a southern Mississippi school district. This bullying included a lesbian student made to sit alone in the class when the other students were split into boys and girls. (The article can be found at this link: http://www.edgeonthenet.com/news/national/News//153237/lawsuit:_gay_students_bullied_in_miss_district .)

While the information in this article and the act of bullying in any way are despicable, there was a comment to the link, in which Ms. Landry commented, saying, "I live in Mississippi & I love my state but honestly you can't expect much from a state that still holds KKK conventions! If Blacks can't have respect in 2013 why expect that for LGBT?" There are two things I find erroneous about this comment. The first is that we can indeed expect more from the people of Mississippi who are engaging in such horrendous bullying tactics. Just because the KKK conventions are being held does not mean that we cannot expect more. Expecting less is the reason this bullying warfare (yes, warfare because the students being bullied are bombarded with assault after assault) continues to go on in school districts. Expecting less of the teachers who allow this cruelty to continue is the exact reason bullying continues in the school districts. Expecting less of the parents is the reason the children aren't held to a higher standard when they are in a public forum. Expecting less of the kids in the school and not asking for more respect and decorum in schools is the very reason bullying continues. And finally, expecting the bullied students to just sit back and take it because the teachers, parents and the school district will do nothing to protect them is despicable and should never be expected of them simply because they live in a district that continues to hold KKK conventions.

Finally, stating that because we are in the year 2013 and other's can't expect any respect then why should the LGBT community. Stating that it is the year 2013 does not give any credence to the idea that we are in a civilized world. The year has nothing to do with the mindset of the people...obviously! Also, the LGBT community, the Black community, and every other community can indeed expect respect. It is a right given to us simply by being. And if the communities think because they are Christian that gives them the right to treat others as though they are lesser beings, these same Christian communities need to revisit their Bibles and the words of Christ. Even Christ would not judge the harlot when she was brought before him. If Christ and his words, which are the very essences of Christianity, will not judge a harlot and also state, "Love they neighbor as thyself," what makes it okay for someone to treat LGBT kids or Black people any less than Christ would treat them? Perhaps, they need to rethink their affiliations with Christianity. The message of Christ is love and has nothing to do with color, gender, or sexual identity. Just love! So, no matter what century we are in and no matter what race, gender, sexual identity, or any other thing that identifies us as different, we can indeed expect more. We, in fact, need to expect more or we will, in the end, destroy ourselves.

Expect more of each other. Expect love from your neighbors and your teachers. Expect change from school districts. Expect more! We are all a part of the great human race and simply because we are different from on another does not give anyone the right to treat us as though we are lesser. We all breath. We all love. We all live. And to do nothing and expect nothing is one of the greater sins. Is it not?

Namaste. 

The Fear of Tomorrow and What is to Come

There comes a time in everyone's life that we need to ask: is this all there is? I have reached that point in my life. I cannot tell you how many times I have looked at the minuscule and meager paycheck I receive bi-weekly and have realized that I can never get anywhere on that amount of money. The meager paycheck will continue to allow me to go from paycheck to paycheck and keep the debtors at bay, but is that enough? And lately, the resounding answer to this question is, "No! It is definitely not enough."

With the student loans I already owe, the idea of adding more onto that amount is ridiculous and absurd, but the idea of going nowhere with the current degree I have is disheartening and frustrating. So, today, I begin my journey to obtaining at least a Master's degree in Psychology, if not going all the way and earning my doctorate. It is going to be an interesting journey, but I the field I am looking into will be rewarding in its own way and will allow me to help people.

I am very nervous about this life decision because I cannot see past what is happening today. The idea of tomorrow is very nerve wracking and scary, but if I do not step into the unknown, the fear of tomorrow will never leave me no matter if I choose to go into Psychology or not. Tomorrow is wrought with fear and uncertainty, but it is time to take of these vestiges of fear and dress in the armaments of courage and hope. So, wish me luck! I am definitely going to need it. Namaste.

Sometimes There is Just Nothing More to Say and the Words Speak For Themselves

Sometimes, I sit in front of my computer screen and wonder what I am going to write about. I try my hardest to see beyond the fickle and finicky things in life; however, sometimes, you just cant escape the fickle and finicky. Tonight, though, I am sitting in front of my computer and trying to see beyond my own existence and decided to pick up the collection of Walt Whitman's complete poems I have on my bookshelf. Sometimes, an author or a poet can give me strength to see beyond what is and see what needs to be seen. Sometimes, when I find those passages, I try to expound on them and add my own two cents. However, tonight, there is nothing that I can add to this passage but feelings. Tonight, I am just going to let the passage speak for itself and let it touch you as it has touched me.

The passage is from Whitman's Leaves of Grass from "Song of Myself." I can add nothing to it and I cannot find the words to expound on it. It is a gem hidden and waiting to be polished. All that I can say is if you haven't read at least "Song of Myself," do yourself a favor and pick it up. Without further ado, here is a passage from "Song of Myself."

...Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,/You must travel it for yourself./It is not far, it is within reach,/Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,/ Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land./Shoulder your duds dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth,/Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go./If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the cuff of your hand on my hip,/And in due time you shall repay the same service to me/For after we start we never lie by again./This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven,/And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied then?/And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond./...Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams,/Now I wash the gum from your eyes,/You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life./Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore,/Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,/To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair (118-19).

Namaste. 

"I Must Not Fear": Seeing Beyond Fear and Opening Myself Up to Possibility

How do you know the perfect time to say that you like or even love someone? Is there a set time for pet names? Is there a set time to do it? I found myself asking these question when I started to feel an inkling of affection for a guy. We haven't know each other long and we have gone on a few dates. However, I have had this strange need to call him "babe." When I text and talk to him, the word almost slips out as if naturally, but I tend to censor myself because I don't want to scare him away. Is there a time frame for things or do you just let yourself fall?

Life is an interesting hodgepodge of chaotic events that I don't understand and have a hard time navigating. I have to take what I see in pop culture as the way things are. I don't have a couple I am close enough to to turn to for these kind of questions and examples of how to approach dating men. I know it sounds stupid, but I don't know who to turn to to answer the questions that are abundant and confusing in my mind. It is a tornado of uncertainty and misconceptions on how to act and how to be.

When I told the guy I want to call "babe," that I keep censoring myself in text, he asked me why I was censoring myself. I told him it was a bit early to start doling out pet names and I didn't want to scare him away. He told me to stop censoring myself because there is not set time to do one thing or say another. He told me to do what feels natural.

It still makes me nervous to call him "babe," but at the same time, it feels normal and it feels great. I think if I continue to censor myself to save people's feelings from being hurt or because I am nervous I will scare them away, I will continue to miss out on some of the greatest adventures of my life because fear ruled me and my actions. I can't let fear be my ruler; I must rule it.

One of my favorite books is Dune by Frank Herbert and in it is one of my favorite quotes. It is the Litany against Fear that the Bene Gesserit say and the main character Paul says multiple times throughout the novel. (I know I am kind of a geek, but deal with it! :-) ) The Litany against Fear is kind of a mantra that I am adapting to my own life. The Litany against Fear is:

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain (12).

Life is not meant to be feared but is meant to be lived. If we fear, we miss the most important and meaningful events in our lives. And sometimes we skip out on some important people coming into our lives. So, "[We] must not fear," and we must open myself to the possibilities beyond ourselves. And sometimes, just fall. Namaste. 

Sometimes We All Need a Little Love Note To Keep Us Going.

I don't know if it is just me, but there are days when everything seems to just fall apart and all that you can think of is giving up. The easiest thing to do would be to let go and forget everything and everyone. In fact, there are days when I wish that I could forget everything and start over; a tabula rasa in my mind would sometimes seem the salve to soothe a tired mind. There are days, like the past four, when I just want the world to stop its revolutions. Then, the most amazing thing happens; the universe gives me a glimmer of hope and love to keep me going. And I am grateful for that glimmer of hope and love the universe deems necessary for me at that point in time.

Over the past four days, I have often thought about the loneliness I seem to be stuck in; the holidays have a tendency to give me that little reminder. I go to work and then come home to an empty bed and am reminded of just how alone I am. At that moment, I just wonder how cursed I must be to find myself alone without a glimpse of the loneliness ever changing and I want to crawl into bed and never get out. Those moments bring on the feelings of wanting to start life over or for the world to stop turning. Those moments are the times when I want to give up and stop trying.

But, I keep going. I keep waking up and I maintain the cycle that seems to be the meaning of my life. I try a
little more. I get myself out of bed and right before I hit the breaking point again, the universe deems me worthy to have a glimpse of hope and love. At that point, someone I haven't heard from in a while messages me and tells me they love me or someone invites me over for Thanksgiving dinner with their family. And the glimmer of hope and love spark a renewed desire for life.

Today, when I was feeling sub par and irrelevant, I received two very important messages from two very special people. First, I haven't talked to my cousin Megan in a very long time. In fact, I can't even remember the last time I actually sat down and caught up with her and her little family. However, today, out of the blue, Megan messaged me and said that if I didn't have plans for Thanksgiving, I was welcome to come and join her and her family for their meal. Then, as if one love note wasn't enough, one of my favorite teachers and mentors, commented on one of my posts saying, "Love you, Micah."

And with a dinner invitation and a message of love, I was reminded of how blessed I am with such loving friends and family. The universe saw fit to send me these two love notes. I am truly grateful for the little love notes the universe sends me to keep me going. I am grateful to Megan and to Karin for their simple but loving messages. I am grateful to know that no matter how alone I may feel, I always have family and friends surrounding me. Thank you all for your love and your light.

To All the Candles That Are Continually Lighting the Darkness, Keep Shining.

My friend had his car stolen the other day. As I was talking to another friend about the incident, she said, "People are horrible." In the instance of the person who needed to take my friend's car, I would like to say that yes, that person is horrible and there seems to be a lot of horrible people out there in the world today. However, as I told my friend, there are a lot of really good people out there too. And this is something that I am extremely grateful for.

If we watch the news, we discover that there has been a mugging, a robbery, a shooting, a car theft, and/or many other chaotic and disheartening things happening in the world today. Unfortunately, I think the focus of the news on the negative and the injustice that is occurring all over the globe keeps us from seeing the good things people are doing in the world to combat the evil that seems so prevalent. The focus on the negative is unfortunate and seems to keep us afraid. But there is so much good to contrast the bad and for that I am grateful.

How can we be a part of the cause for good when we seem so few sometimes? The Buddha said, "Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared." St. Matthew also wrote, "Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works..." If we are like a candle and share our light or our goodness with the world, the one candle that burns brightly can bring light and happiness to many other lights and not take away from itself. Likewise, if we share goodness and live our lives trying to help others, our goodness can light many other people's lives and maybe they will share their goodness with others. Good will shine and maybe someday outweigh the evil.

I am grateful to all of those candles out there that are burning bright for the world to see. I am grateful to the people who, in spite of the rising tide of evil that surrounds us, continue in their daily lives to try to share their light with one more person. I am grateful to all of those good people out there who continue to give people hope. Thank you to all of you. Please continue to share your light and goodness with the world because we need it.

Namaste.

The Sounds of Silence: Pure Enjoyment in the Quiet Stillness

I am sitting in front of my computer and wondering what I am grateful for today. I could think of something
insightful or at least, I'd like to think it is insightful. I could write about something trivial just to say that I updated my blog today. However, as I sit here in the solitude of my room, all I hear in my house tonight is silence. The beautiful, exquisite silence like a breath of fresh air.

Why would someone be grateful for silence? Living in a city (well, I don't think you can completely consider Orem a city, but some of the sounds are similar so I will go with city) you hear the rush of traffic, the honking of horns, the yelling children in the street, the barking dogs, the wailing of a hungry or sleepy baby or toddler, the boom boom boom of music from a passing car, the slamming doors, the beeping at checkout counters, the crash of an opening cash register, random conversationalists, the whir of CPU's, the rapping of fingers on computer keyboards, the buzz of neon lights, and so much more. The world is a chaotic mass of sound and sometimes it is just too much. Sometimes, the world just needs to have an off switch or a mute button.

Tonight, at my house, the mute button seems to have been pushed. There is nothing but the sound of the intake of my breath. I can hear the beat of my heart in my ears. I can hear the rustling of my clothes as my body finds motion. I can hear my feet brushing against the carpet. I can relax and close my eyes, hearing the sounds of silence. And I find it music to my overstimulated ears.

My being an introvert has a lot to do with the joy I find in being in solitude and silence. I am truly grateful for the sounds silence brings. I am grateful to come to a place of quiet and feel like my own thoughts have room to run around and collect themselves. I am grateful for the pure joy silence can bring and for the awareness of the now silence brings with it. I feel like a have a glimpse at what Superman must feel (if Superman was real) in his Fortress of Solitude. I am free in my solitude and my silence. I am grateful I can rejuvenate and calm myself for another week of work, and then, all of the sounds coalesce and converge into the chaotic symphony of life.

Ties That Bind: Grateful for Friends That Make Life Enjoyable

At the end of day nineteen, I feel it is necessary to say I am grateful to be free from the harmful addictions that plague our society. There are so many things that are harmful to the body and the mind. These things are so easy to get from pornography to drugs to online gaming and gambling. I am grateful today that I have not become addicted to some things that I have been exposed to and am glad I have not been exposed to the more harmful ones. I am not saying I don't have any addictions; I have an addiction to sugar and to soda, but, though these two are not necessarily good for my health, I am not losing friends and family over them.

Today has been a hard day for some of my friends. They have had to kick a friend out of there house because of his addiction to a substance. I won't go into complete details on the who's, the why's, or the how's, but because of his addiction to a heavily addictive substance, he no longer is able to live with them and their friendship will not be what it used to be. All of this because of a drug that will give him short amounts of relief from whatever he is running from.

I am very grateful to the universe, to God, to the angels, or to whatever aide I received and receive in my journey so that I was never lead down this dark and lonely path. In my job, I have seen many people's lives ruined because of drug addiction and alcohol addiction. These addictions, and the others like them, separate families and friends and they sever ties and bonds that can rarely be reshaped into previous forms of what they used to be.

Finally, I am very grateful to the friends that I associate with and the friends that make life fun and enjoyable without having to resort to substance abuse. I am very blessed with wonderful friends that keep me smiling and laughing. I am grateful I know them and I am blessed they have chosen me to be counted among their friends because without these ties, I don't know where I would be or what poor life decisions I would make. So, I am very grateful to my friends. You are amazing people and I can't thank you enough for all you do for me.

What are you grateful for?

Happy Birthday, Grandma: Gratitude and Love to a Great Woman

At the end of day seventeen, I need to send out a very special thank you to the woman that made my life and my dad's life possible. Today is my grandmother's birthday and she deserves every bit of recognition I can give her. Along with the recognition, I owe my grandmother the most deserved thank you. Without her, I could not be and without the way she raised my dad, my life would be very different.

In all of the days I have known this great woman, part of them with her other half and part of them

Grandma with Aiden, Ashlan, and Kaly.

without him, she has worn her faith on her sleeves and has shown a great example for her children and grandchildren. Grandma always went to church when should was able. She and Grandpa served a mission, and no matter how busy she was, she was always looking after the people--especially the people of Pioche, Nevada. Service with a smile was one thing that I learned from Grandma. No matter how busy she was with family, she always had time to help someone out. I am grateful to her for her example of faith and service. 

I am very grateful to Grandma for raising Dad to be a man of faith and a noble and loving man. The way Grandma raised Dad was shown to me in the way Dad raised me. Through her teachings to Dad, I learned to honor the name I bore; I learned to show kindness in word and deed; I learned to keep my word; and I learned to love without exception. The person that I am today is in part due to Grandma who raised the man that raised me. I am grateful to her for raising Dad the way she did. I would not be the man I am if I didn't have the son she raised to be my dad.

I could go on and on about the many things I owe to Grandma and for all of those things I owe a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid to one of the greatest women I know. My words will never suffice and will never be able to repay her for all that she has done for me. I will never be able to repay her for the example she has set for me. I just want my grandma to know she is amazing. I am grateful to her and for her everyday. Thank you, Grandma. I love you and owe you so much.

My Gift of Writing: Gratitude for the Ability to Express and Create

At the end of the fifteenth of November, I sit in front of my laptop thinking of the many things with which I have been blessed. Today, I have to say I am grateful for the ability to express myself in the art of words. Some people have conversational skills, some people have skills with a paintbrush, and some people have skills with a camera. All of these people have the ability to create. They have the ability to take a blank slate or canvas and make beauty out of what other's would see as nothing. Where some see the nothing, artists and creators see potential and possibility.

For me, a blank screen or a lined piece of paper holds vast amounts of possibility. There is adventure
between the blue lines of lined paper. There are princesses who don't need a prince to save them, but in the end, the princess saves the prince. In every moment of creating and producing the written word, there is a God-like moment of creation. I get to be fate; I get to be judge, jury, and executioner or angel of mercy. I have the God-like ability to create a world and the people within that world. The possibilities are endless when it comes to writing.

Not only am I able to connect and create worlds and lives, but I can also use my words to inspire or to attempt to engage people in conversation. I can attempt to use my words and my thoughts to make people reconsider their views about others. I can hope that through my writing they could see beyond race, gender, sexual orientation, and even spiritual belief. And I am grateful to be a part of a group of people that use words to create, inspire, inform, and engage others.

The final reason that I am grateful to be able to express myself with my writing is because I am not a conversationalist. I am an introvert. I look inward and observe the outside world. I listen and occasionally offer advice, but usually, I just listen. Listening has always been one of my best qualities. However, there comes a time in my introversion I feel like I have something to say and speaking it just doesn't seem like the natural thing for me to do. So, I write and I create something from nothing.

I am grateful for the ability to express myself. I feel that the universe looked on me and offered me this gift as my means to expression. I am grateful to the universe for this gift. I am grateful to all of my mentors, professors, and teachers who have helped me to hone my gift to a sharper point. I have a ways to go before my pen will prick the hearts of the reader, but I am grateful for the journey I have been on. I am grateful. Namaste.

What are you grateful for?

"Can You Hear Me Now?": Grateful for the Technological Advances of Our Generation

It's day 12 of my days of Thanksgiving. As I thought about the something that I am grateful for, I was thinking about the phone call I received this morning from my mother. She called to tell me she has been on an emotional journey.

 "What made you go on this emotional journey, Mom?" I asked, driving back from the gym. It was common of her to call me during the week, but usually the reason she has been on an emotional journey is because of something bad that I may have done, said, or posted, but since I knew I hadn't done anything like that, I waited for her reply.

"I read your blog today," she said. I waited for her to continue, but there was a silence on the other side of the line. Then, I could hear her sniffling and I knew that she was crying. "I am grateful for the way that you write," she cried as I imagined the tears welling up in her eyes. "You write with such emotion and some of the things you write about, I wouldn't have even thought of. It is kind of like you say when you say that we take for granted some of the things we have been blessed with. I am proud of you and just wanted to tell you that I love you. I asked your dad if I could make comments on your blog. He said I could and then he said that I could just call and tell you, so I decided to call and tell you."

"Thanks, Mom," I said as the tears began to well up in my own eyes. When my mom cries, whether good or bad tears, I always cry. "That means a lot to me. I am glad that you are crying happy tears this time and not the kind that I have made you cry in the past. I guess this kinda makes up for the sad tears I have made you cry." I laughed and could hear the sparkle in her own laugh. We continued to talk for another ten minutes and then we said our goodbyes and went on with our separate days. 

Tonight, as I considered the conversation, I realized that without the blessing of technology (cellphones, satellites, and many other things), I wouldn't be able to just randomly call my mom and dad and talk to them. I wouldn't be able to pick up my cellphone and send them pictures or random texts. I wouldn't be able to tell friends and family that I love them even though they are miles away from me. So, today, I am very grateful for the blessing of technology.

I wonder what it would be like without the technology we have today. I realize that life would be different and we would be back to the old fashioned way of sending messages via the coach or the post. E-mail and text messaging make conversation, though digital, a lot faster and a lot easier to know that the ones we love are still at the touch of a button. Life would definitely be a lot different if we didn't have the gadgets and gizmos that we have in abundance. So, I am grateful to the brilliant minds that came up with the technology that we enjoy everyday of our lives and that allow me to keep in touch with the ones I love. I am truly blessed.

What are you grateful for....?

In Honor of the Men and Women Who Sacrifice Their Time and Lives....

At the end of day eleven, I need to give a shout out and an enormous thank you to all of the men and women that have served and serve in our military today. Today is Veteran's Day and I need to give my support, love, and thanks to all of the men and women that protect the rights and freedoms that many of us take for granted. This country has remained what it is because of the men and women that fight and give their lives for the protection and maintenance of this country and Her many virtues.

I have some friends that are serving in the various branches and I have some family that has served in the previous wars that plague our history. To all of you great men and women, I need to say thank you for protecting this beautiful and amazing nation I call home. To Grandpa, Cam Davis, Elias Sampson, Matt McBride, Cortney Mansanarez, and all of the other people that I haven't mentioned, I say thank you for your

service past and present. I am grateful to each and every one of you and for the years you sacrificed and will sacrifice for the protection of this great country and the rights of each and every American citizen. Thank you for maintaining this land of the free.

In thanking the servicemen and servicewomen, I need to also acknowledge the families and loved ones that supported their husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and friends. Thank you all for supporting the men and women that gave and give of their time and sometimes their lives for our great country. Without all of your sacrifice, their sacrifice would not have been possible. To Grandma, the Davises, the Sampsons, the McBrides and Matt's fiance, and to Cortney's family and his husband Nick, thank you all for supporting your loved ones during the good and the bad times.

On this day, I say thank you and I am so grateful for the country that I live in and the brave men and women that protect us and our freedoms. I am grateful for their sacrifice and the hope they allow me to continually have because of this great nation. I am truly blessed and wish that I could do more than say thank you, but today, I am especially thankful to our military men and women who serve and have served our country. Thank you from the depths of my heart; I will never be able to repay you for your sacrifices. Namaste.

The Circle of Life: The Miracle of Nature and The Gifts We Receive

I've missed a few days, but for good reason; at least, I'd like to think it was a good reason. Dare I to hope... Anyway, I am four days behind again and am working on finding the four things that I find to be the most important at this point in my day. (Which is not to say that the aforementioned items and people aren't just as important today...) Each moment I consider all the things that I am blessed with, I am overwhelmed with the amount of blessings that I have been gifted in this life.

As winter approaches, then, I would like to say that I am grateful for Nature. I am grateful for every changing
season and for every moment that I am in awe of the mountains, whether snow-capped or full of greenery. I am grateful for the trees that produce the oxygen that keeps inflating my lungs and oxygenating my blood. I am grateful for the sun, the moon, and the stars and for the light they shine down on this minuscule planet lost in the sands of the universe. I am grateful for snow, rain, and any form of water that feeds and nourishes this planet. I am grateful that the planet continues to rotate on its axis and revolves around the sun. I am grateful for every single heartbeat that makes this planet live. Nature is a force to be in awe of and I am grateful for every single aspect of it.

That being said, I  am grateful for the roof that is over my head. I am grateful for the water heater that gives me a hot shower or a hot bath after a workout at the gym or on a cold night. I am grateful for the electricity that pulses through the wiring of the house and gives life to the inanimate. I am grateful for the ground on which the house is built and for the bed on which I lay at night. I am grateful for the protection that the house gives me against the elements when they are sweltering or when they are freezing. I am grateful, in spite of the cockroaches that creep and crawl, for the house that protects and shelters me.

I am grateful for the clothes I put on everyday. I am grateful for the warmth my sweaters and coats give in the winter and for the protection from the sun the hats give in the summer. I am grateful for safety clothing gives and the way every item of clothing makes me feel sheltered against the eyes of the world. I am grateful for the shoes I put on my feet that protect me from the solid rocks, pointy pebbles, or out-of-place shards of glass. I am grateful for the socks that protect me from getting cold feet and protect my feet from getting blisters. I am grateful.

Finally, at the close of this tenth day of the month of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the animals that give their lives for my sustenance. I am grateful for the blood they shed for me to continue thriving in this world. I am grateful for their spirit and their life. I am grateful to the Earth for the vegetables and the fruits it produces. I am grateful to the bees that pollinate the flowers and help the plants to grow and produce. I am grateful for the hands that go into the care and harvest of all of the vegetables and fruits. I am grateful for all of these and more.

So...what are you grateful for?

Namaste.

Philosophy, Faith and Thought: "These are a Few of my Favorite Things"

It's day six of my attempt to maintain a list of all the things I am thankful for and I have missed day four and five; so, today, I will attempt to list three things that I am thankful for. It is interesting how many things I have that I have started to take for granted. Even as I try to list the things I am thankful for, I realize how hard it is to list. You wouldn't think that it would be difficult to list all the things you are thankful for, but it is hard to do. I think the toughest part is just thinking of one thing a day to be grateful for when there are hundreds of things that I have taken for granted. So, today, I will attempt to come up with the three things that stand out to me.

I am grateful to have a belief system that was instilled in me from the time I was a child. I am grateful that, though my beliefs may have morphed into something that was not originally what my parents intended, I still have something to believe in. I am grateful for everything my parents taught me and the faith they helped me to achieve. Some people see putting faith in something that you can't see or prove with science as a weakness, but there is no greater strength than allowing faith and belief take you to the unknown and raise you higher than you knew you could go. 

I am grateful for the great philosophers of life, i.e. Plato, Socrates, Jesus Christ, Gandhi, Laozi, Siddhartha Gautama, Rumi, Thich Nhat Hanh, Mother Theresa, and the many others. These are the people who, through their teachings, allow us to look deeply within ourselves with their words and see the possibility and the potential for much more than we think we are capable. They help us to see beyond the self and see the inter-connectivity of all life and all beings here in this life. Their words have inspired many people and will continue to inspire many more. They have taught selflessness, life, love, charity, hope, and many other things that we allow ourselves to take in and utilize for the betterment of ourselves and/or the betterment of society. 

Finally, I am grateful for the ability to think. I mention belief and the philosophers of the world, but without the ability to think for ourselves, what would be the purpose of belief? What would be the purpose of philosophy? What would be the purpose of the pursuit of truth and happiness if we are not allowed to think critically? I am grateful for the ability to take in information and meditate on it for truth hidden within the metaphors and analogies. I am grateful I am able to think for myself and find truth in the beautiful gems of belief and philosophy that are so abundant.

These are a few of the things I am thankful for...what are you thankful for?

Namaste

Slaving Away: Thankful to Have a Job and Thankful for the People I Work With

Day 2 comes to a close of my days of Thanksgiving and though it has been a long day (sixteen hours to be exact), I have to say that I am grateful to have a job. My job is far from difficult when it comes to manual labor, but it is the psychological aspects of my job that wear me down many days. Some days, being a psychiatric technician is a thankless job and you feel like the piece of crap that administration has just wiped off of their shoes. However, in the economy we live in today, I am grateful to have a job that gives me medical benefits, so I try not to complain--much.

As a psychiatric technician, it is my job to take care of mentally ill patients who have allegedly committed
crimes and because of their mental state, they are unable to stand in their own defense. The crimes that are allegedly committed (because we are innocent until proven guilty here in the great USA) range from murder or homicide to petty drug charges. Each patient is unique in their needs and in their personality, but we as staff are there to help them to stabilize and to get closer to getting back to the streets or taking the next step in their journey.

The psychological journey that my co-workers and I go through on a daily basis is enough to make you go crazy yourself, but the best part about the job I have is the people I am blessed to work with on a daily basis. We have each others' backs when there is a threat made to one of us. We make each other laugh when it is so hard to even think that we have another four hours to go on the shift from Hell. We hug each other when life seems to crush us and we are simply there for each other when the job becomes too much to bear. My co-workers are my second family and I love each one of them. We are a kaleidoscope of personalities that makes the job worth coming to. I love my team and in spite of the lack of VIPs awarded or recognition given for a job well done, I want to say that my second family rocks. I am grateful for each and every one of them.

In the end, though my job can seem thankless and often times seems like the means to a paycheck, I am grateful to have a job and to be working with some of the greatest nurses and psych techs around. I am grateful for the opportunity to help my patients every day I work with them. I am grateful for the opportunity I have to learn patience with my patients, with administration, and with myself.

So...what are you grateful for today?

Namaste.

Giving Thanks: Seeing Beyond Consumerism During the Holiday Season

This month, at many retail stores, we start to see Christmas trees, wreaths, red and green ornaments, and Santa Claus statues roll out onto the floor to remind consumers of the obligation to buy gifts for loved ones and neighbors. However, the one holiday that should mean more than some consumer-driven holiday is forgotten. Many people forget Thanksgiving and its purpose. No! That purpose is not to eat, drink, and be merry. The one thing that the holiday gets right is family; however, we forget to give thanks daily for the blessings we are given.

This holiday season, I am going to give thanks, daily, for something that I have that I am grateful for. If I can see beyond the consumer-driven holiday that has become of Christmas and remember the various reasons for the season, perhaps, the magic of the holidays will come back and the wonder and joy that once suffused my childhood memories will return and give back what has been lost.

I am a day late so I will have to start out with the two most important aspects of my life that I am grateful for and the number one thing I am grateful for this holiday season and every year past, present, and future is my family. I have been blessed to have one of the most loving families. At my brother's wedding last week, I was able to see all but one of my siblings. I could feel the love in every hug and in every attempt to see how life is going for each one of us. We are lucky, as siblings, to be so close. As the time comes for our parents to go on a mission, we will be tested on how close we are and how close we can become. My family is truly a blessing in my life and a blessing to be counted among the ones for which I could never pay the universe back.

The second thing I am grateful for is the life I have. There have been many times in my existence that I have wished for my lungs to stop breathing and my heart to stop beating, but as I grow older and as I draw closer to truth and understanding, I see the blessing that is life. I am blessed to be able to live a life and experience existence. Life is never easy and it can definitely be a stressful event, but there has always been someone there to help me with my troubles; I want to be able to be there for someone who needs it too. So, I am grateful for every beat of my heart, every inhalation and exhalation of my lungs, every emotion I feel, and every moment of firing neurons.

I encourage everyone to give this challenge of posting, tweeting, or blogging about the things you are grateful for a try. I want the reason for the season to not be lost in gadgets, clothing, shoes, food, et cetera. We are truly blessed in the nation that we live and we need to show that gratitude in word and in action. Let's bring back the joy and the magic of the season. Be grateful and give thanks. Namaste.

The End of Childhood and the Beginning of New Adventures

Stephen and I giving our dog, Kuzak, a bath.

I am fighting so many feelings this week. My little brother is getting married. He is the last of us, aside from me, to settle down and marry the love of his life. They are adorable together, so I am not sure why I am feeling alone and lonely.

I think the biggest reason I am feeling alone and lonely is because when I would go home, Stephen and I were the single ones. There were two of us and I had someone to relate to. Now, I will be the only one. He will have another family to go to Christmas and Thanksgiving with. Summers will be split between the two families and I will see him less than I already do. It is a disheartening thought.

Stephen as a baby.

 Gone are the days of being kids, playing Ninja Turtles in the backyard or in our rooms. Stephen and I used to play in the marigolds that grew behind the Pavant Drive house in Richfield. Stephen would make up random rules that protected his characters but completely obliterated mine. He would tell me he had a force field and my character's blast of fire or laser beam could never reach his character. My character was smashed by a pile of rocks or blown up by a rocket. I always seemed to lose and it would start a fight.

Stephen vacuuming the carpet in his diaper.

Long gone are the days of watching Stephen in the backyard sword fighting his shadow. He would spend as many hours in the backyard as he could. I would look out the sliding door or the kitchen window and see Stephen fighting, as best he could, his shadow that was cast on the back fence. I would laugh at him, but in retrospect, I should have gone out back and joined him. It seems, now, to be a missed opportunity. I regret not playing with him. I am still amazed at his imagination.

When we lived in Price, we had a weeping willow tree that Stephen and I would climb. I was less adventurous than he was. He would climb to the highest branches he could, swing like an ape from branch to branch, and he would hang from his legs on some of them, letting his arms dangle. He seemed to love every minute of it as far, as I could tell from the ringing sound of his laughter.

Stephen loved to dress as a cowboy like Pappy.

One time, Stephen was playing outside by himself. He was being his ape-like self in the tree. When I walked out onto the porch, Stephen's limbs were sprawled out, his legs up on the dog's cage. His head was on the ground and he was unconscious. I yelled to see if he was faking it; he had a tendency to cry wolf. He was and still is quite the tease, but when he didn't respond, I called for help and ran to him. He was okay but I think he had a concussion.

The funniest part to the story is that Bethany, our older sister, left earlier. When she saw Stephen sprawled out like he was, she said, "Whatcha doin' Beez? Oh. Just chillin'?" And she left. We still laugh about it; Beth probably doesn't laugh as hard about it as Stephen and I do when we reminisce.

Stephen and I used to fight all the time. I think I instigated most of the fights, but he ended them all when he would start punching me (most likely accidentally) in the kidney. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he did it anyway. I would tell Mom and he would get in more trouble than I would even though I started the fights. In spite of all the fights, we were really good friends. We quite often shared rooms and talk and tease each other.

We were good friends then, but when we moved to Brazil, we became best friends. You learn to become best friends when you don't understand what's going on and rely on each other for everything. We swam together; did homework in the same room; went to the movies; went shopping; helped Mom with groceries; and survived church together. Yes, survived! Because it was like a battle trying to understand what the heck was going on. Brazil was a blessing in disguise. I learned that my little brother was the best friend I ever had.

Stephen is my very best friend and I think the worst part about him getting married is he has found another
best friend. I know that we will always be friends; he is my confidante and the person I know will always be there for me whenever I need him. The fear is now that he has his wife for a best friend, what happens to me? I know it is silly, but I feel alone and happy for him at the same time.

As I contemplate why I am taking this so hard, I realize that, although we are both adults, his marriage brings about the finality to the end of our childhood. It may sound stupid, but I honestly think that is the reason I am feeling alone and lonely. Stephen and I were best friends throughout childhood and with the upcoming nuptials, childhood is over. I guess it is time for the trial of adulthood and getting older. And perhaps, adulthood will bring with it some of the greatest adventures of life. Only time will tell. I love you, Beez. Great adventures still await us.

Happy National Coming Out Day: A Time to Celebrate Who You Are and Not Fear

Today is National Coming Out Day. It is a day where people get to tell the ones they love that they are gay. It is a day that is possibly seen as a bane to existence for the extreme conservatives and a blessing to the liberals. But no matter what your views are on National Coming Out Day, I for one am very grateful that there is a day that can make people of the LGBT community feel less and less broken and more and more part of the conversation.

This first part of my post is the horrendous feelings I had about being gay because I was raised as a member of the LDS church and, as a member, was taught that being gay was a sin. The complex range of emotions that I have suffered through are, in part, because of religious belief and my desire to go to Heaven rather than to go to Hell.

Here I lay, tied to the mire,

And unable to break free of it

For fear that nothing will remain,

And that I will no longer be.

The muck, I have grown accustomed to

And the aromas that linger around,

But to be reminded daily,

Suffering the anguish to know

That if I break free of my chains

I will forever remain undesirable;

Forever remain broken and dirty.

I cannot be reminded daily

That by my simple existence

I am

And will always be one.

The closest I will come to home

Is nowhere near it at all.

By simply being me,

I remain a failure:

The black sheep.

By following all I feel inside,

I remain a sinner.

Since I was a child, the church and my parents talked about the importance of a temple marriage. A family forever, who wouldn’t want that?

            The goal of getting to the temple became a dream of mine. I dreamed of the day when I would take the one I loved into that enormous palace built for the God I loved with all my heart and marry not just for this world, but the next. I dreamed of my future children meeting the one they loved and all of us living and loving together for eternity.

            My dream just had some contingencies on it. If I wanted my dream to come true, I had to change how I felt about men. I had to live a more perfect life and to continue on living a lie to gain access into the temple of God.

            I told my parents when I was thirteen years old that I was gay. I remember asking Mom and Dad if I could talk to them. In their room, they had their king sized bed with a green silk comforter on the top of it and hand stitched into it were roses and clouds. In the very center of the comforter is the Manti temple—the temple my parents were married in.

            In front of their bed was a chest of drawers finished in a black stain with silver handles and knobs. Above the dresser, in a golden frame, was a picture of the Manti temple. The two domed edifice of a cream colored stone on a hill top surrounded by green grass and flowers watched over the room.

            Pictures of the first presidency and Jesus Christ with the words “Come unto Me” stitched and frame were hung on the walls. I felt safe in the confines of their room. It felt like home. It was home and what better place to reveal such a damning secret than in the confines of a warm and welcome home.

            It was Sunday. The cloud speckled blue sky added to the reverence I felt that day after Sacrament meeting, Sunday School, and then meeting with the other deacons. I didn’t feel that I could pass the sacrament that day because you had to be worthy and I was gay and therefore couldn’t be worthy of handling the blood and body of Christ.

            Mom sat on the bed next to me. She was dressed in a red dress; brown nylons with a run up one side of her left leg; and a cream colored cardigan. Her blonde hair ratted in the back and hair sprayed to give it more volume. The grey roots showing through at her part. I have always told her not to dye her hair because she is gorgeous with her grey hair too. She, however, is self-conscious of her grey hair, mainly because people used to ask Jaclyn, Stephen, and me if she was our grandmother. I could tell that that bothered her, so I could understand why she would dye her hair. She is beautiful either way.

            Dad sat in the arm chair kiddy corner from the bed. It looked like a throne. He wore a button up, long sleeve white shirt without a tie. He always took the tie off when we got home from church. He wore black slacks and black socks that he would roll back and forth, on and off as he sat in his chair.

            Mom gave me a side hug and held me close—she has always been able to tell when something was wrong. Dad sat across from us with his arms folded above his protruding stomach. He just waited for me to talk.

            Mom’s hug gave me no courage; the hug only made me feel more nervous. I looked down at the taupe colored carpet and at my feet. How would I tell them my secret? I prayed for courage to tell them. As the butterflies in my stomach got stronger, my tongue loosened. “Do you guys know how the guys at school, on the bus, and at church call me fag, queer, and gay?” I began. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mom bite her lip and nod. Dad looked me in the eyes and nodded.

            “Well…” I hesitated and could feel my throat tighten up. “I think I am gay.” My voice caught on the last word.

            Mom hugged me closer to her. She felt, at this point, like she had a vice grip and was not going to let one of her babies go. She wiped at the welled up tears in her eyes with her free hand. I could feel her breathing grow more rapid and her heart beat louder and quicker.

            Dad still didn’t say anything. He looked at me and Mom. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking; I could feel what he was feeling. The only noticeable change was how fast he rubbed his feet together and across the carpet. Also, he moved his arms from folded to placing them on the arms of the chair.

            After a slight pause which felt like hours and made my heart begin to race, my mind began to reel with questions, waiting for Dad to say something. Is he going to kick me out? Do they hate me? Am I salvageable? Will the Atonement of Christ save me?

            “Son, what makes you think that?” Dad asked, now with one arm behind his head tugging on his dark brown hair.

            “I like some of the guys on the football team,” I said.

            “Liking them doesn’t make you gay, Son,” Mom said.

            “I don’t just like them Mom,” I said, “I think they are cute.” I felt embarrassed to tell my Mom something so personal.

            “Son, you know that Satan is making you have these feelings right?” Dad said, matter-of-factly. “These are not natural feelings and this is Satan’s way of trying to keep you from returning to God.”

            “I know Dad,” I said, “that’s why I am telling you. What am I supposed to do?” I started to cry. I could feel the warm tears run down my already reddened cheeks. I hate crying because boys aren’t supposed to cry. None of my brothers cry.

            “Well,” Dad began, as mom held me closer and wiped at my tears and her own, “we need to talk to the bishop, so you can repent and start back on the right path and then if you are willing, I know someone who just graduated with his master’s degree in psychology. If he will take you as a client, will you go up and see him. We can get it fixed before it gets any worse.”

            “Okay,” I said more out of a hope that Dad and Mom wouldn’t hate me or be disgusted by me.

            “I’ll call him tonight,” Dad said, “and we will make the appointment for this week. He is up in Provo, but it will be worth the drive. If we can stop this feeling before you act on them the happier you will be. I’m proud that you would tell us Son. We want you to be able to come to us whenever you are feeling those feelings, so we can help you get rid of them. We will pray, read the scriptures, play a game, whatever it takes.”

            I smiled at Dad, at the word “proud.” I didn’t often hear Dad use that word, so I felt that I was doing the right thing.

            Mom’s tears stopped, but her hugging continued. “We love you Son,” she said, “We want what is best for you and just want you to be happy. And we know what brings happiness.”

            “Let’s kneel down and pray together,” Dad said as he roused himself from his chair and began to kneel down. Mom and I followed his example.

            “Our kind and gracious Heavenly Father,” Dad began, “we are grateful for all of our many blessings. We are grateful for Micah and his willingness to follow in the paths of righteousness and his kind and gentle spirit. We ask Thee to please bless him, Father, that he will be able to fight these feelings he is having and to continue to want to fight the feelings. Help him to fight off the devil’s temptations and the minions of the devil so that he might return to Thee with honor. These things we pray for, if it be thy will, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

            Mom and I echoed, “Amen.”

            When we got up, Dad gave me a hug and patted me on the back. Then Mom hugged me to her breast tightly and said, “I love you.” She wiped her eyes.

            “I love you too,” I said.

            I smiled and walked down the hall to my bedroom. I closed the door and picked up my scriptures. I am not sure what I read, but I remember feeling a warm feeling in my chest. I knelt down and prayed for the feelings to go away and the burning in my chest increased.

            That experience was the last time for years that I felt so close to God and the burning in my chest. After that, I looked into an abyss of darkness and tears. I would go through the fires of Hell trying to rid myself of being gay.

            The following Wednesday, Mom pulled me out of class and she and I drove in our bright blue Aerostar van from Carbonville to Provo. We drove through the winding roads of Spanish Fork canyon, passing herds of Elk and spotting a few white tailed deer. Aspen trees and pine trees flew behind us as we sped past them. We listened to Chris Heimerdinger’s Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites series on tape. Mom asked me how I was doing and my simple response was, “I’m okay.”

            I wasn’t okay. How was I ever going to be okay? In the span of three days, from the Sunday I told them to Wednesday, things had changed. I felt numbness. It was like my body was on auto pilot and my mind was on vacation. I don’t know where it was, but it was far far away, possibly on Judea’s plain.

            We reached Provo at about 4:30 pm and we reached Scott’s office at 4:45 pm. off in the distance I could see the Provo temple. It looked like a carrot cake with a big carrot stuck in the middle. I was reminded of my dream of eternal marriage and families forever, before I walked into Dad’s friend’s office.

            It was a brown building on Freedom Boulevard next to some trees behind a fence on the left and an ambulance garage on the right. The hospital was off to the right a distance away. Mom would always remind me that Utah Valley Regional Medical Center was where I had my kidney surgery when I was four.

            I walked up the carpeted creaking steps and to the left. Dad’s friend was waiting for me. He had Dad’s build, with a protruding stomach, plaid shirt, slacks and a tie. The only thing that made him different from Dad was his vest he wore and he was bald on top of his head. He looked like those monks you see in pictures with the bald head and hair on the sides.

            He extended his large hand and with a deep voice said, “Hi Micah, I’m Scott. It’s nice to meet you.” He also stuck out his hand for Mom and said, “Hi Bonnie. I’m going to just meet with Micah by himself. If you’ll just wait here,” motioning towards a leather couch, “we shouldn’t take too long.”

            Mom took my hand and squeezed it, then, letting go, she sat down. “I’ll be right here Buddy.”

            Scott took me into his office. To the right was a brown leather sofa that crinkled as I sat down on it. Scott’s desk was littered with books and papers. A lamp in the corner was the only source of light in the room besides the dimming sunlight coming through the slated shades on the window. A tall bookshelf with books and books galore decorated the wall. Scott sat in a leather arm chair with thick wooden legs to support his weight. Several fake green plants and trees were scattered around the room. It was quiet in the room, but not uncomfortably quiet.

            “Your Dad has already talked to me a little bit,” he said, “about your problems and issues. I want you to talk a little bit about what’s going on, and then I will ask you some questions.”

            “Okay…” I started. I had no idea what to say next. What did Dad already tell him? What had Dad said about me? What does he think of me? I felt dirty and I felt betrayed. This stranger knew my dirty, sick secret. I knew I was coming here to talk about it, but Dad had already told him. There was emptiness in the pit of my stomach like when you are starving and can’t find anything to eat.  I felt sick and didn’t know how to keep telling him what I needed to tell him.

            “I’m gay,” I said, quickly and in whispered tones. He didn’t laugh at me, didn’t kick me out, and he didn’t point and mock; he just sat there. He looked at me and just waited for me to continue. “I’m gay,” I said a little bit louder, “and I don’t want to be. I know that it is not natural and I know that God doesn’t make mistakes. I know that Satan is making me feel this way. I don’t want to be gay. I want to get married and have children. I want to go to the temple and be a family forever. I want to die and go to heaven and not go to the fiery pits of Hell.”

            My thirteen year old form started to shake as I started fitfully crying. I hoped and prayed that my mom couldn’t hear me. The tears rolled down my face and the snot streamed from my nose. I grabbed for tissue that I hadn’t noticed was there before. I wiped at my eyes and blew my nose.

            I continued on, my pre-pubescent voice cracked as I spoke, “I’m afraid of looking at myself in the mirror because I hate who I see. I hate looking at the faggot looking back at me through the same wired frames that I wear. I hate seeing the sinner and knowing he is me. I avoid looking in the mirror whenever possible. I cry after I pray at night wondering why I haven’t felt God’s warmth ever since I told my parents. I don’t want to go to school because the boys at school don’t like me. They always call me queer, fag, fudge packer, and whatever else they want to because the teachers never say anything.”

            I wiped at my eyes again and looked down at my small hands, remembering what Stephanie Simmons said after measuring from the base of my palm to the top of my middle finger, “You know what they say about small hands?” she laughed. “Small hands, small penis.” She and her friends laughed. I just hated myself even more.

            I looked up from my small hands and kept talking, “I hate my girly voice that is so high that some people think I am one of my sisters. I tried on one of my sister’s bras the other day to see what I would look like as a girl. It was ugly. I was ugly. I’m not a man or a woman. I’m a thing. I’m ugly and God hates me because I am gay. I will never get married in His temple and He will send me to Hell.”

            I began sobbing. The idea of doom grew stronger and stronger as I continued to talk. I continued to dwell on the teasing and my own personal hatred for myself began to grow.

            “Do you think God hates you that much?” Scott asked. He looked at me with sympathy and pity.

            Is he expecting me to answer? I asked myself. “Yes…I mean no…I mean I don’t know. The scriptures don’t seem to show much love and kindness for the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. He burned them up and they were gay. That’s what they say happened to Sodom and Gomorrah, so if he burned them for being gay, won’t he do that to me?” I looked at Scott with complete seriousness.

            Scott looked at me and said, “Yes, that is true, but the people of Sodom and Gomorrah were unrepentant sinners. You want to change don’t you?”

            “Yes.”

            “Then you aren’t unrepentant and God is not going to destroy the unrepentant. So, let’s work on the processes in your mind that will help you change the way you think.”

            “Okay, what do I have to do?” I asked eager to change.

            “It’s not going to happen right away and you will probably fight these feelings for the rest of your life.”

            “Really? Then what is the point in fighting them? Why not give up?” I was becoming physically drained and broken.

            “Because you want to change and you want to be righteous, right?”

            “Yes,” I stammered.

            “You want to return to God with your family and live forever right?”

            “Yes!” I almost screamed it.

            “Then you have to keep fighting. You have to endure to the end. It will be worth it. What’s that saying?” he thought to himself, “Oh yes, ‘I didn’t say it would be easy. I just said it would be worth it.”'

            Immediately, I thought of the picture of Christ with his arms outstretched with that saying underneath him. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll try.”

            Scott looked at my hazel eyes and said, “Do or do not there is no try.” He smiled and I smiled thinking of Yoda, that cute little green man who is very wise, but speaks funny.

            “I want to see you twice a week for a while, and then we will cut back to once a week, and then when you are ready, twice a month. Is that going to be okay?”

            “I think so,” I said, “but we should probably ask my mom.”

            “Okay,” he said, “But one thing before you go, I want you to pray and read your scriptures every night. Okay?”

            “Okay,” I said. I already planned on it because in order to get a good grade in seminary, I had to read my scriptures every night. However, if that was going to help me not be gay, I was going to try that much harder.

           I continued to pray and read my scriptures, but my attractions for the guys at my school weren’t going away. They just seemed to be getting stronger and fiercer. Why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t God fixing me? If I do everything that God asks of me, will he cure my disease? Will he fix me?

           I have yelled so many times inside, Some people get tried with small sins and mine is going to send me to Hell if I don’t endure to the end. My demeanor and outlook on life changed. I saw an angry and cruel God that was like a child with an ant farm. He was playing with a magnifying glass, making us writhe in agony in the magnified glare of the sun.

            I wore two faces very well. I learned to take one off and put the other one on without hesitation. I became two people though with one soul. My soul was torn between the two desiring to be one person all the time.

                                                                              *  *  *

          Now, for the "It Gets Better" part of my message. For those of you that suffer through the self-hatred and distaste for the person you see in the mirror, I am here to tell you that, after years of suffering, we become the pearls that we are meant to be. 

          There is a lot of hatred and cruelty in the world because of a lack of understanding. However, there is a movement going on in our nation and in the world where there is more conversation going on and more people caring about understanding.

          Today, as contrary to the past experience and contrary to my feelings expressed in my coming out story (or rather part of my coming out story), I am a stronger man because I believe that I am who I am without mistake or error. I am stronger in my beliefs in life and I am seeing beyond the formative years and living a life I was meant to live. The universe has a plan and we are all part of that plan--gay and straight alike. We are luminous beings that are full of love and beauty.  

          I guess what I am trying to say with this post, in spite of how some of it may appear, is that it does eventually get better. We learn to surround ourselves with the people that will love us in spite of how they think we should be living our lives and love us for us. We become forces for change and forces for good if we allow ourselves to learn from the past and live for today. If we can keep going and "endure to the end"(if I may borrow the phrase I so often heard in church), the rewards of life and love will be endless. We always have suffering no matter where we are in life, but the love that we can experience will balance out the suffering if we let it.

          Don't be afraid this day to be you or any day after today. Be you and don't let anyone make you feel inferior to the pearl or the diamond that you are. Be all you are meant to be and more. Live your life and shine on into the darkness that threatens to make you despise you and the life you live. Shine on and shine bright. Namaste.