Crucial Conversations

In preparation for merging worlds, I'm reading a book called "Crucial Conversations." I've heard some good things about it and, if there's a high-stakes conversation in my life, it's this one.

On the first pages, the book describes a "Crucial Conversation" as one with three key aspects:
1. Stakes are high
2. Opinions vary
3. Emotions run strong

I don't know if merging worlds really counts in that aspect - at least not in my case. Stakes are high and emotions run strong, but differing opinions? I guess that since I've had years to process how same-gender attraction and the gospel fit together, and those close to me haven't had the same opportunity, it's possible... or pretty likely, if my past experiences hold true, that our opinions will differ. Yeah, it's a crucial conversation.

But as I've been reading, I've realized that this book has a much wider application. It may help me have valuable conversations with my family, but the real takeaway is in the conversation about gay rights, morality, and the world at large.

One of the first items the book highlights is the pursuit of open communication. Its basic tenet is that great decisions are made when all those involved communicate clearly, honestly, and respectfully. So the book begins by identifying conversational tactics that destroy open communication. They're divided generally into two groups - "violence" and "silence" - and extend to far more actions than I originally thought. Silence may be silence, but also not sharing what you honestly believe in the right forum, or not openly engaging in conversation because you are afraid of confrontation. Violence includes the obvious, extends to name-calling (any use of the word homophobic falls under this category, as do any any other derogatory terms used by either side), but it also includes intimidation, focusing only on your side, exaggeration, and controlling the conversation to subvert honest communication.

Controlling the conversation.

Controlling the conversation is something that I've done here on (Gay) Mormon Guy. I've wanted to create a safe environment, and I found myself looking at seemingly exclusive paradigms. Do I create an environment of complete safety - the kind of place I wanted to find when I was looking for answers - or do I moderate a more open forum of ideas from all sides? While I can see plenty of concepts in Crucial Conversations that others could apply, this hit home.

Before, in my mind, I felt I had to choose between the two. And each appealed to a different audience. On the one hand, safety for the people who were searching for answers, faith, and hope. On the other hand, discussions for the greater community at large. But maybe there doesn't need to be a dichotomy. It can be somewhere that meets both needs.

Silence and violence in conversations - name-calling, withdrawal, controlling the conversation, skewing facts, focusing only on one side - often come from fear and distrust. Fear that no one is listening, or distrust that they really care, which pushes us to shout. Fear of retribution, or distrust of others' motives and ability, and so we're silent. And, in fearing, we do the things we fear in others.

But, behind our fear, I think we have the same purpose in wanting to speak.

We want to do everything we can to help men and women, with same-sex attraction and without, find happiness. We want them to feel worthwhile, to make choices that will truly lead them to joy, and to give them the tools to overcome the obstacles that stand in their way.

We have a unified purpose. But how we see that purpose fulfilled then dictates the differences in our actions. One believes that happiness comes from the family as ordained by God, and writes Proposition 8 to support that. Another believes that happiness comes from societal affirmation, and opposes that same action. But at their core, they are seeking the same peace.

I realize that tossing off my own inclinations and fears will take a lot more work. I'm afraid of posting hurtful comments and then having to moderate a backlash of comments just as bad. Of setting a precedent of quick responses, then getting a 3-page article full of inaccuracies, biases, or logical flaws that I don't have time to point out. Of not being heard. But fear can be replaced with faith... and that's enough.

First step? My comment policy is changed. No swearing, graphic content, or outbound links to sites that support anti-Mormon ideals. I'll post comments when I read them. Then I'll do my best to make this a place where you can feel safe, and ask you to do the same. Safe enough that you don't need to call names, exaggerate, or withdraw because of fear or distrust... but instead to honestly work out your own salvation in the search for truth.

Complications

I'm concerned about how my mission companions will take this.

The first part of the issue is that we're not close. With a few of them, I'll make a phone call and I'm pretty sure they'll understand. In some cases, I don't have any current contact info and haven't spoken with them since the mission. Calling them up to tell them anything - let alone discussing same-sex attraction - would be a major effort. Which means that whatever information they get is going to be largely nonspecific and probably without the ability to give lots of context.

The second is that I really, really, don't want them to look back at our relationship and see me in a different light. But I'm realizing that's somewhat out of my control. If we don't have a strong relationship right now, then maybe that's even a blessing - I don't have a lot to lose.

And at least one of my mission buddies is somewhat opposed to the world of being faithful with SSA. He came out a few years after the mission and, around the time of Proposition 8, didn't seem very happy with people who opposed the sanctification of gay marriage. That was before (Gay) Mormon Guy, but I found myself wondering what his response would be if I shared my honest views... and the experiences that brought them to life.

Interesting. Again, I begin writing with a seeming dilemma at hand, and it sorts itself out in a few minutes of text on a screen. That's pretty amazing. And I'm not as concerned anymore.

Merging Worlds

I haven't been here on (G)MG lately. My life has pulled me in a thousand directions and I find myself with barely enough time to sit and think... let alone write something sublime.

But today something happened that I need to record, and at least some of you will want to know.

I made the decision to merge my worlds.

It's been on my mind for a while. The possibility has, at least. But it was never really an option because my anonymity was God-defined. The Lord told me to protect my anonymity at all costs... so only He could rescind that instruction - or especially tell me to do the opposite.

It struck a chord when Quintin L Cook spoke a few months ago about being real, but I realized that his comments were to safeguard morality - not to demoralize those who live dual righteous lives. It has come as a thought a dozen, a thousand times, as I've thought about it perhaps being easier to live one life than to have a busy reality alongside an unknown, yet still busy alter-ego named Mormon Guy.

But none of those are the reasons why. The last few weeks I've slowly realized that, as Mormon Guy, I can do good in the anonymous space of (G)MG... but as myself, I, perhaps, could do a little more. Merging my worlds is the next step in finding ways to make the world a better place.

There are a thousand reasons not to. It could destroy what little exists of my social life. Turn away people close to me. Mar me professionally. Make it close to impossible to get a date. Put my family into a moral bind as they work through finding the hand of the Lord for themselves - they fiercely love me, and I'm pretty sure the shock would turn into frustration and a sense of injustice. Shower me with real live hate mail. Immerse my family in a contentious discussion they've never imagined. Inject me into the midst of contention. Make it harder for people - in real life and online - to forgive my faults, and easier to see them. And potentially make any experience with guys loaded and frustrating. (Part of me wants to punch any guy who asks me if I'm attracted to them in the gut.)

But even though it's terrifying, the potential of reaching one more person - helping one more person not commit suicide - physical or spiritual - would make all the pain worth it.

So today I made the decision and turned to the Heavens for confirmation. And, for the first time, I felt peace.

I'm not going to call it coming out, because, for me, that statement carries deep connotations that I don't want associated with my life. I'm not asking my family or friends to be more understanding of who I am. This may be much harder on them than on me. I'm not trying to make a statement to the world or get out of the stress of dating or whatever. I'm simply opening the door of my life both ways... and I have faith that it will allow me to be a greater influence for good.

It's not going to happen today. Or tomorrow. I have to tell my family, and that's going to take some time. Thankfully, I already know how I'm going to do it - I'll just tell them about this blog, give them a few specific posts to read (or verbally explain the concepts), and then answer whatever questions they have. Then I need to tell the other people in my life. But someday, at least according to the plan, I'll merge my worlds entirely. And then everyone will be able to see the hand of God in the aspects of my life.


...
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In the meantime, do any of you have any good ideas (that's vague - these can be just random ideas that have no testing, or anecdotal advice, though references to scripture or talks would be great) of how to tell people in the second group - those who aren't close friends, but are still involved in my life? I have the blog to use as context, but I've had some really bad experiences in the past with fallout. How would you want to know?

Inspiration from General Conference

Conference was amazing. From the announcement of missionary age changes, to talks on missionary work, to the focus on faith in the public forum, I loved it all. The people I was watching with were amazed that I spent 10 hours on Twitter (@gaymormonguy). (none of them even know how to get on Twitter)

The talks, music, and atmosphere were great. But here and there were moments that made everything else pale in comparison. Moments when it seemed like God Himself was speaking to me. Answering my prayers. Addressing my unspoken needs. The moving words of a Christian battle hymn that made me feel loved and included and whole. A phrase in a talk that gave me the strength to make important decisions in my life. And the overwhelming feeling that God cared and was actively involved in my life.

I've had a bunch of questions recently, many related to how my life would be different if I dropped my name here on (G)MG. How it would impact my ability to help people I know personally. How it would affect my relationships and professional life. How it would influence my Church service. How I would deal with stigmatization from the media or others. How I would tell my family. How/if I would tell the people I know in everyday life. I don't think that some of them would even want to know. How it would change my voice in the world as a missionary.

The feeling I got at Conference, in response to the overwhelming questions in my mind, was simple. Follow God, do what you know is right no matter how hard, have faith, pour out your soul to the Lord, and everything will work out for the best. So I'm not as worried. If someday He decides that my anonymity isn't necessary anymore, and Mormon Guy has a name and telephone number, I'll let Him answer all the questions.

I'm incredibly grateful for living prophets and apostles... and for a gospel that applies to me, personally, and can give me direction along the pathway of life. It gives me hope in the darkness, light throughout life, and meaning and joy each passing day. It colors my Sunday school lessons, brightens my smile in scripture study, and opens my heart to listen and understand those around me. I'm grateful for the countless circumstances that have given me a chance to become who I am today - same-sex attraction, family, culture, upbringing, talents, trials... but I am grateful most of all that I've had these experiences within the perspective of the gospel. There is no better place to learn the truth, no better place to understand myself than learning from God Himself... and here, in His Church, I see and feel His hand.

Voices of Hope Project

When I first asked a priesthood leader for advice on sharing the gospel in the gay Mormon community, his advice was simple. Don't betray your anonymity.

Looking back, his advice was inspired and wise beyond his own experiences. I've had the opportunity to share and process my story out loud here on (Gay) Mormon Guy without having to worry about how it would impact my social, church, or professional life. The few times I shared my feelings with people close to me, I realized how far our world still needed to go.

But that world is changing.

20 years ago, openly coming out while in the Church often meant that you were giving up on the gospel. It came at the end of a long, isolating road of self-mastery, addiction, faith, courage, repentance, and finally despair. And it also often meant that you had come to a decision to engage in homosexuality.

Today, the story can be different. You can be like Josh Weed, who shared his story as a way of reaffirming his faith and in order to help others on the same path. Or like Ty Mansfield, who went so far as to write a book on his feelings. Most stories don't get picked up by the Associated Press like theirs did... but ultimately you can be like any of a number of other men and women - single, married, old, young - who have joined their voices in sharing their testimony of the gospel.

The world hasn't finished changing... which means that sharing this story with the world isn't the right choice for everyone. There are some families that would still disown a son for sharing his mind... friends who would never talk to him again... and others who would judge him as a sinner without ever asking.

But, in some places, at some times, the darkness can disappear. And shining that light of hope on the world makes people better - both those in and outside of the issue at hand.

To help people share that message, the NorthStar community has begun a project called Voices of Hope. Building off the anthology of the same name, the Voices of Hope project aims to enable people to share their testimony that the gospel of Jesus Christ really does have the power to save... and to bring happiness, authenticity, hope, satisfaction, and peace in this life, regardless of circumstance. Voice of Hope is a conversation - built around essays, videos, comments and questions submitted by people all over the world, we hope it will become another place to feel the truth of the gospel as it applies to homosexuality. We hope that it will be a part of the force to change the world - to show everyone involved that it is possible - and even preferable - to find salvation in the gospel.

The link to the project is here.
Voices of Hope Project

I'm not sure what this means for my own anonymity. Over the last few years, there have been a million thoughts in my mind... and I can see more and more the positive aspects that would come from combining the different aspects of my life.

But I keep my anonymity because of that first piece of inspired counsel years ago. Which means I will definitely need some type of divine confirmation before I do anything else. :)

It's So Easy

It's so easy to be bitter
When the world won't understand
When the people passing by
Don't think to lend a helping hand

It's so easy to be angry
When people walk away
As if friendship never happened
When we were best friends yesterday

It's so easy to be tired
When I've fought and bled and won
And the world, blind to triumph
Only sees a job undone.

It's so easy to be lonely
In a crowd of those I love
When their feelings stay below
And their topics stay above

It's so easy to be fearful
When I try to give my all
And find I traded hope for failure
Balance for a fall

It's so easy to be hopeless
When the world falls apart
And I'm left alone and brooding
With just a broken heart


It's not easy to be hopeful
But I know that God is real
And, somehow, there is purpose
In the way I think and feel

It's not easy to be faithful
But He gives me strength to try
And as I make it through one moment
Another one goes by

It's not easy to be loving
When it brings so high a cost
But love makes people better
They are better loved than lost

It's not easy to be zealous
When I'm never paid for zeal
But just believing in the future
Can transform the way I feel

It's not easy to be peaceful
But in storms I find respite
In whirlwinds, a nexus
In darkened ways, a light

It's not easy to be happy
Or to learn to really laugh
But that's what life is all about -
Finding joy along the path.


I don't think that life is easy.
And yet I still forget the cost of letting life choose for me how I feel until I've lost something I value - something beautiful I've found along the twisting, turning pathway to Heaven from the ground.

I am the author of my feelings.
But that doesn't mean it's easy.

Coming Out and Staying In

I finally read Joshua Johansen's FAIR address on navigating the labyrinth of homosexual desire. Yeah - I know - for someone involved in the gay Mormon world, I'm a bit late to the game.

But his article, combined with recent questions in my own mind, made me wonder about my place in this discussion. Right now, this blog and this aspect of my life run far below the rest of my priorities. I don't spend huge amounts of time thinking engaged in the conversation - this post even came as an afterthought.

But maybe that should be different.

Right now, in the Mormon Moment, the world is also making decisions that affect me and the rest of us who profess faith along with same-sex attraction. And being silent in that conversation means being regarded as nonexistent. Impossible. Immaterial.

And I find myself wondering what would happen if we were able to switch. If, instead of relegating sinners to the back rooms, we openly embraced their stories of coming to the light. If we created places of refuge where men and women could find solace from their temptations and inspiration on how to conquer the natural man. If the Church became a support group for sinners.

Nothing in the doctrine would have to change. In fact, we preach the imperfection of man each week over the pulpit. We would simply put those preachings to practice outside the walls of ecclesiastical counsels.

I wonder if this - and the term I'm using is "Coming Out and Staying In" - wouldn't be far more effective than what we currently do. Coming out - openly admitting your faults. Staying in - openly committing to the path of faith. What if more of us honestly accepted our failings, put ourselves on an open trajectory to being better, and then shared that vision with the world? For those who smoke or drink or want to change their diets, connecting with those around you is essential. For those who want to change in other ways, it is just as important. And I feel like our current methodology - as part of underlying culture - forces people to try to change on their own... without the support of people who could help them fight the battles they face.

I don't know what it will take. But something inside me makes me wonder. What if?

Jealousy

I met a really handsome guy yesterday, and we had a chance to talk a bit about life.

He had it all put together. Goals for his future, totally in love with his newlywed wife, both of them beaming from the inside out...

As our conversation progressed, I found myself feeling a mixture of admiration and happiness for this guy. You know the feeling you get when you meet someone who is honestly a good person, through and through? That's how I felt.

You don't become an honestly good person unless you make good choices, consistently, in the face of major trials... I don't know what trials he's faced, but I could tell that he was a really good guy.

As the conversation ended and we parted ways, I found myself reflecting on my own life... and inevitably comparing myself to him. Not always useful. I know. But it happened anyway.

He's blissfully married... and I'm not. I don't have a woman at my side who shares my love and thoughts and dreams. Right now I don't even have a girlfriend. He has his life planned out... I have some direction for my life, but nowhere near that amount.

But the part that hit me hardest was on spirituality.

I'm usually the stalwart guy who has faith all put together. But over the last little while, pieces of my life have been falling apart. Everything from physical health to professional direction to social environments has gone through complete overhaul... and somehow in the midst of the chaos I lost what was most important to me. My prayers became shorter and less fervent. My scripture study got tacked on late at night or not at all. And those two set a shaky foundation that eventually dropped everything else from its place. I'm even realizing, as I write, that I forgot to pay my tithing.

I'm not at rock bottom. I mean, I have a complete and sure knowledge of Christ, of His Church, and of the blessings that come through exercising faith. I know that those who keep the commandments receive all the blessings that God has promised.

I just lost sight of that.

Thankfully, though, I know how to go back. Take time every day to really, sincerely pray... to lay out my life on the altar before God and work out my salvation with Him. Study the scriptures and keep them close... have them become the first place I turn when a moment is free, and the first place I go when a question arises. I just have to put the habits I spent so long learning back into place.

I'm not sure if what I feel is true jealousy. I want what this guy has - a happy family, direction in life, and an unwavering connection with God. But I know how to get there... and our conversation was enough to help me realize where I'm lacking and which way to go.

Mission Memories

I read from one of my mission journals today - the one stuffed with letters written to me by my companions. I had intended to simply look up the first and last name of an elder I served with... and then an hour had passed.

I miss my mission.

I miss the people, having a companion to talk to even if we never really understood each other (and that was almost always the case), the clear direction in exactly what to do each day...

I've had far more missionary experiences since I got home. I realize that the mission is designed to help you develop skills to apply in the rest of life.

Hopefully I learn to apply them.

Either way, I will be forever grateful that I had the opportunity to serve.

Karma

I've never really been a fan of the statements that encourage men and women to be good only so that the world returns that goodness. "What goes around comes around," and even the Bible's "Cast your bread upon the water" make me wonder about the motivation, and lack thereof, of humanity.

I don't dispute the eventual reality of those statements. The scriptures are replete with examples of goodness being returned for goodness, and evil for evil. That's the whole point of our teachings on the last judgment. But I don't feel comfortable with obedience to commandments solely for the hope of eventual blessings.

Homosexuality is a good example - (and one that is ever pertinent to this blog...) partially because many of the blessings promised may not even come in this life. And, at least in my case, having a hope that in 100 years everything will work out is difficult to apply to the day-to-day.

People who claim that those who follow gospel principles instead of finding another guy are making huge sacrifices usually aren't exaggerating. The sacrifices are considerable. From the gospel perspective, you're expected to refrain from all activity that could stimulate homosexual feelings - and that list, while definitely encompassing the normal expressions of dating, may be long depending on the person. You may never get married, fall in love with a member of the opposite sex, have a family... and, perhaps with purpose, many of the men I've met have a stronger desire for a family than the norm. Giving that up is, for some men, an Abrahamic trial. From a societal perspective, you're expected to be honest with girls you date - even if you don't share your life story in the first conversation - and there are plenty of people who vocally denounce anyone who even tries that route. If marriage doesn't come, it brings with it potential social stigma, tons of questions... Perhaps the greatest sacrifice, though, is giving up our fear of the unknown. When you've never fallen in love and live in a Church where eternal families are essential to mortal progression and happiness (and where women are often mentioned with condolences when they are unmarried, while men... usually are not), being willing to believe the promise that God will make everything right - not just in the future, but as life unfolds - is hard.

So what's the solution? I definitely can't claim to have any of the answers but for my own life, but, in my case, I've found that goodness naturally brings its own constant rewards. Not some gift from the cosmos, but in that being good makes life inherently better somehow.

Serving someone else, even if they never know or acknowledge it, gives me context into my own trials. Keeping the commandments somehow makes me closer to God - even when I keep the mundane ones like following the laws of the land. And as I choose to follow God into frustrating and unknown paths, I learn important lessons about myself and Him - something the world could never give me.

I think that if I were better at focusing on being good - not just doing good, or acting good, but truly becoming a new creature in Christ - many of the difficulties I face would simply fall into place. And while I'm sure that eventually the universe will repay goodness with goodness, that often seems a long ways away. I'm not really content with having to wait until death to be happy.

Afraid

Sometimes I look at my life, and my future, and the unknown scares me. I work with people who are incredibly talented, accomplished, and faithful on a daily basis... and I feel like I am swimming in deep water. Most of the time, I don't have problems communicating, and I do well in my work. But what happens if I meet a woman tomorrow or the next day, and begin to fall in love? What next? I had the thought today that maybe it'll happen soon. I've been dating since I was 16, and can manage the outward signs of chivalry and grace as well as the next guy... but I feel like my emotional being is so... I'm not even sure of the word... unconventional... that even if I were to fall in love, I'd botch the opportunity. Or run away in fear.

And then I wonder if the reason is that sometimes I'm too complacent with the status quo... too afraid to make ripples in my own life... too afraid to jump off the edge of the cliff into the water even when I know I can learn to swim.

And that concerns me.

I can't afford to be Mormon Guy for the rest of my life, even if change means putting myself into situations far outside of my comfort zone. I can't afford to be nonchalant in my dating, or to brush off the advances of girls who may very well be a good fit in personality, passion, and zeal.

But that scares me, too...

I don't know what I'm afraid of.

Is it success? Falling truly in love and finding happiness? I don't think so.

Is it failure? Trying and getting rejected again and again and again? No.

I think that maybe what I'm afraid of is making the wrong choice. Passing up the opportunity in fall in love - a little... But more - tying myself to someone for eternity without ensuring that those ties will hold.

Is that a valid fear?

I'm not going to get married just because someone fits my personality. I know that. It's not because I feel societal or organizational pressure - I don't. And so the thought that I would make the wrong choice - and marry someone I couldn't love and support forever - sounds sort of absurd.

The fear of missing the right opportunity is probably more realistic... in my case, I'm pretty sure that if I did nothing, I'd never get married. It takes effort and faith no matter what we're trying to accomplish. And so I guess I just need to dive in head first.

That's one thing that's nice about cliff jumping and acting in faith. As soon as you jump, it doesn't matter anymore if you're afraid. You've set the pattern in motion and you'll hit the water either way. And if you miss the mark the first time, you just climb the mountain and jump again. And yet again, your fear is irrelevant as soon as the air surrounds you.

Weddings

It's such a beautiful thing to attend a wedding. To see a bride dressed in white, flanked by a beaming husband, and surrounded by an air of infinite peace.

For a moment, I forget that I've never found myself standing there. I live life vicariously through their honest and truthful smiles, their endless optimism, and the faith that this step belies.

And then I remember where I am, and all the things that keep me from getting here, and the promise comes. "Mormon Guy, it'll be okay. Have faith... and this day will come for you, too. I promise."

And I believe it. And even if I didn't have that assurance, it would still be beautiful.

Spontaneous Combustion & Love at First Sight

Let me preface this post with the caveat that I'm exhausted. So this may not make any sense.

There's a rag downstairs that is soaked in gasoline. Don't ask why. Every time I walk by it, I envision piles of gas-soaked rags suddenly bursting into flame... remnants from safety trainings or somewhere.

And then I also envision those same piles of rags suddenly spawning frogs. If I learned one thing in high school biology, spontaneous generation is impossible. Frogs don't come from rags. Except for when they start talking about the beginnings of life, and then they backtrack and say full-grown amoebas can spawn from hot mineral broth, but not frogs from rags.

But that's a sidetrack.

Rags can burst into flame because of the vapors that ignite. But they don't ignite on their own - they always need heat from somewhere, or a spark, or a bunch of sunlight... otherwise the rag downstairs would already have caught fire.

In my mind, to make a massive metaphoric jump, I think that love sort of follows the same dichotomy. I don't think that full-grown love is going to grow out of my lackluster dating experience... just like frogs don't grow from rags soaked in gasoline. But I do think that there are definitely ways to cultivate love... and to make it more likely to happen.

I think that falling in love with a girl, at least in my case, is going to take an outside spark. Something beyond where I have control. If it were in my control... I definitely would have done it. But it hasn't happened yet.

So I have a few options. Soak the rag in gasoline, and try to develop the skills to be a great husband and father someday, learn to serve and honor women and communicate with them... Or do nothing and hope for spontaneous combustion of love without much fuel... Or give up, soak the rag in water, and refuse to believe that fire is even possible. I'm trying to choose the first... and I'm pretty convinced that it'll work out. Gasoline-soaked tags eventually combust. Which means I should throw out the one downstairs, or at least get a metal garbage can with a lid.

Wow. I just compared love to a rag soaked in gasoline. I'm really tired.

My First Post at Northern Lights

My First Post at Northern Lights - I Am a Child of God

Just wanted to let you know.