What else I might say—if asked—to an LGBT student at Taylor University

Actually,  I might not say anything at all. Rather I might suggest, “Keep your ears open as you read this post by a favorite blogger of mine, Esther Emery. She’s writes a letter to a woman called to leadership in a society that isn’t all that sure it wants a woman in leadership. If you can, hear in Esther’s words/warnings/hopes/encouragement an address to the LGBT soul in you, called to stand free and proud and humble and happy and grateful and giving in a society and church and college that is not all that sure it wants to hear your voice, or face the fear felt when you are seen.

Esther begins with these words:

 

I don’t know exactly who you are. Maybe a young woman, just now stepping out into your life. Maybe a mother or a crone, entering a new phase of your authority. Maybe just my beautiful dominant four-year-old, who is ready right now to start setting the world to rights.
But I know something. I know this. You are called.
You are called to stand up, speak up, use your voice. You are called to the front of the room. You are named. And you are called.
Rise up.

The darkness does not want you to use your voice. You are so full of light. The darkness will tell you that you are too much.

Too loud.

Too greedy.

Too masculine.

Too angry.

Too emotional.

Sometimes you will believe this. Sometimes you will try to make yourself small, and quiet. Sometimes you will hurt yourself trying to be small and quiet.

Do this with me. Walk outside and look up to the sky. Reach your hands up to the wide, expansive sky, far above the crowdedness and the jostling. There is room for you up there. There is room for every bit of you up there.
Continue reading here

Desire is the very essence of man.

The artwork was shown at the Tate Modern in London; the art is by Kathryn Maguire. It’s a mirror that lengthens the image (of the person) reflected in it; the words are laser cut into the mirror. The quote is from Spinoza.

Mark Doty says something similar in many of his poems. I think especially of one about sunflowers—even dying, their arched forms are true to their nature, their desire to be a burning rush forward into the world.

Perhaps this is what and who we are, first and last; desire. Not such a bad fate after all, say what?

How are you, at essence, Desire?

If I were to open that door, what awaits me? [ part 2 ]

2.

Gate

It’s not what’s

in a gate so much

.

as what might

lie beyond it

.

makes us want

to push it open.

From Bloodroot: Indiana Poems

by Norbert Krapf

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About the photo: And I was looking for a picture of a gate. My gosh, there’s a long story attached to this one, and it’s here at the flickr site. Photo by Fergal Jennings

If I were to open that door, what awaits me? [ part 1 ]

1.

The picture I wanted to use here (but can’t find with usage rights) is titled, “Unbroken seal to a room within King Tut’s tomb, Harry Burton.” I shivered when I saw it. Even in so somber/sacred a place as a royal tomb, there are locked doors, barred closets, seals set about with fearsome curses to stop the casual person from daring open them. before coming out I carried around one such sealed door; I lived behind it, in its shadow; in its darkness. It bears taking a moment to think about the sealed doors/locked passages/gateways/threshholds in our experience of the world.

We are all the time opening doors in our lives. Some seem important at the time. Others reveal their significance only upon later reflection.

+ = +

Photo by documentarist at flickr.com

A tortured relationship with Desire

1.

When I was a kid I wanted to be the best Christian little boy in the world. Without knowing I was gay, I sensed I was different from my peers, would have to work extra-hard to be accepted and acceptable, to please God and Mother and Church. When I hit puberty I was horrified to realize my attractions were to other boys. I’d marinated long enough in the societal, religious and familial messages that told me this was wrong, evil and sinful. I tried to squelch desire, fight against it, subdue it. Prayed that God would make me strong. Believed God would. Would grant me victory if I were valorous in the fight. “The sword of the Lord and of Gideon,” and all that.

Desire called to me. I stoppered my ears. I believed my desires had nothing to say to me, were only leading me astray. How much time and energy I expended on repressing, suppressing, ignoring, burying, fighting desire. How much I could have learned had I faced up to my desires, listened to what they had to say to me.

for reflection:

To what potential messenger have you closed your ears?

for action (or, if you’re Catholic, penance):

Find a quiet place. Breathe slowly, deeply, four times. Listen within.

About the photo: Perseus battles Medusa in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen. Photo by florriebassingbourn at flickr.com (retouched by yours truly)