Thankful for Nothing

There once was a child who was poor. He had just entered that age when material things started to matter. He now had reason enough to wish for things, and he also had innocence enough to believe they’d come. He intuitively knew his family was poorer than the others, but it didn’t matter, he was taught that “Santa delivers gifts to ALL the nice children of the world. Rich or poor.” That year, Santa had a job. So even though Santa “Forgot” or was just “Too much in a rush” to fulfill every request on the nice child’s list, it was okay because empty handed he was not. Months passed by, and this child new that being nice paid off. But being extra nice would have to pay off even more next Christmas--perhaps a list of wishes entirely fulfilled. Santa, however, would spent most of the next year seeking work… ironic for such a busy fellow. On the next Christmas day, the young boy saw sadly out his window as other kids played with new toys, new clothes, and new joy. And all he had received was two things, emptiness and confusion. How could Santa do this if he was so nice all year—nice than last year even! Over the next few months he would work his young mind to figure out the mystery. He started to see that the idea of Santa Claus was flawed in many ways. And not just on Christmas day. It wasn’t always as simple as being naughty or nice. Little by little, the idea of Santa repulsed him. He wanted to no longer believe. But alas, he had nothing else to believe in. So he just made some “minor adjustments” instead to the idea called Santa Claus. The list would be shorter, the items would be cheaper. The definition of “Nice” wouldn’t be as strict. Santa’s income would even be considered. What a mature kid. But maturity and all, something still felt wrong. He wanted to continue believing, even if he knew he didn’t because believing feels good. It was an uncomfortable feeling. On the week of Thanksgiving, Santa lost his job again. On Wednesday, the boy’s best friend invited, “Hey, me and my dad are going to camp out at Best Buy for Black Friday. Wanna come?” There they were again, the boy’s most prized possessions, emptiness and confusion. No Black Friday. Little to no hope for a good Christmas. But Thanksgiving would not be held back--at least not by the calendar. On the morning of Thanksgiving, the young boy woke up and went to the fridge. Nothing. A bunch of nothing everywhere. And what made it worse is that he knew that in his entire block, his family had to be the only one with so much nothing. So he would not spend months analyzing again. This time, he just made it simpler on himself, “I don’t believe, period!” As the years passed he realized that gifts don’t just come out of the sky. Food doesn’t either. In fact, Santa’s job doesn't either, ironically. He realized that what he was taught wasn’t always right. He realized good intentions don’t always produce truths. And just as he was beginning to discover hard truths, he lost both his parents one tragic day. Now an orphan, but not quite yet an adult, he’d have to rely on another lesson learned as a child, “Heavenly Father.” Perhaps if that man were real, then he wouldn’t actually be an orphan. And as the years passed, on some moments Heavenly Father seemed closer, and on some not so much. He realized that the “Heavenly Father” and the “Santa Claus” he was taught about were really quite similar. They didn’t function magically. The requests to Heavenly Father were less materialistic of course. “Father, please take away this feeling of emptiness and confusion that has been with me over the years.” He would often say, “I find myself silently in the arms of my constant companion, loneliness. Take it away.” And some days those prayers seemed answered, others not so much. But he wouldn’t stop praying, until one day in the midst of all these prayers, he fell ill. The pain was excruciating. It was constant. It was uncontrollable. The doctors would check him physically and promise tests and results, IV’s and medications. But they didn’t know that he was carrying an illness inside that wouldn’t show up on any CAT scan. After all, how do you image loneliness? He felt misunderstood, alone, like a fake who could no longer fake it… and it was then that he realized, “I want to die!” He sat in that hospital bed thinking while the nurse stepped away, “Who am I kidding? I want to die! I don’t have a purpose here, I’m not needed, I’m not loved, I don’t love, I’m not essential or sincerely functional. And the routine keeps killing me every day!” But it was at that moment that the medicine flowing through his IV finally took full effect, and put him to sleep. After a couple hours he awoke. Still feeling silently unhappy, but at least the physical pain had seemed to go away. So he went home with medicine and with the doctor’s instructions. He managed to fall asleep for the next 10 hours. The next day as he got up to have breakfast and to take his medicine, the image of himself sitting on a hospital bed genuinely wishing to be dead kept flashing before his eyes and his soul. And the more he saw that, the more tears fell down his face. He finally realized, “I am nothing.” But nothing meant something. It meant he was not a child someone needed to mold. It meant he was neither a believer nor a non-believer. It meant he was not an orphan. It meant the God he was taught about was nothing, for if he was nothing, God was nothing. It meant the answered and the unanswered prayers were nothing. It meant he was not genuine, but not a fake. It meant he no longer had to willingly, unwillingly or intuitively live on a mold of ideas and morals which he did not help design. It meant he was simply there, with a chance to start from zero again. It was Nothing…on HIS TERMS. Thank you for nothing. Happy Thanksgiving!

Gay Dignity

When Rosa Parks stood up for what she believed in, it was not just for equality, it was for human dignity. When I decided to stop being Mormon, it was not just about Gay Rights, it too was about human dignity. I had to abandon my dream of being straight to embrace my inner reality. For nine years I avoided that reality to live a lie that slowly killed me. Until one day an extremely attractive married man--who to this day is an active Mormon--started flirting with me. I'm in my mid 20's and he's in his mid 30's. After I got over the initial feeling of attraction, I had enough courage to tell myself, "Wait, if I don't embrace my reality with dignity, I will be this man when I'm in MY 30's, living a double life, devaluing the worth of a woman, and teaching children that it's okay to lie. Ultimately a selfish, unhappy man." I had to stand up for my dignity.

Over the next few months I had some of the most emotionally painful moments of my life! As hard as I tried, I couldn't answer the question, "WHY did I allow myself to be put through such a damaging lie?" And the damage caused was not as damaging as the realization that I was the one who chose to be Mormon and effectively hide who I've always known myself to be. But, finally I found my response, "Because no one told me, 'I know you're in pain, but don't worry, you will be fine." That's all it would have taken. The world is so void of people who reach out. Not necessarily because we don't want to, but because we don't know how. My world as a 16 year old teenage boy was void of anyone who had apt knowledge of what homosexuality was and how to deal with it. And the two people who came to what I then called "My rescue," taught me that practicing homosexuals were not approved of by God. If we don't stand for those around us living in pain and anguish, someone else will.


What I have learned in these last few months since I left the Church is that I am not the only teenager scared to admit he's gay, that that married gay man in church is not the only man who flirts with other men behind his wife's back. But I have also learned a devastating truth, that there are men and women, boys and girls out there willing to commit suicide because their feelings are not approved of by the masses. Because I've been lucky to live and realize how great and beautiful life--even my own--can be, I want my life to have meaning from now on.

As Rosa Parks teaches us, sometimes standing up for what matters is better done sitting. There are far too many children and adults who need someone to sit with them and let them know, "You are understood, you matter, and you deserve what every other human being deserves, to live a happy life with dignity." I want to be that someone. May you be too.

A Daughter to the World

Recently, a friend posted a picture on his Facebook page. The picture was of an alcoholic man who was asleep on the sidewalk outside my friends house in Guatemala. (The above picture is not my friends pic--gotta respect his privacy--but it's close enough.) In the comments that followed, a debate developed on whether alcohol is bad in and of itself. Here's my response:


ALCOHOL VS ALCOHOLIC

As far as the specific point you're trying to make about alcohol, I'd rather not comment on it. I do, however, want to say something more on the topic of the ALCOHOLIC. On my mission I came across a man who was asleep face down on the porch of his house. After awaking and turning to us, we (my companion and I) saw he had a dog bite on part of his eye and cheek. There was blood all over his cheek, some of which was starting to dry. (I promise this is not a Halloween story.)

Despite my companions argument that "There's no way our message will get through to him," we went into his house and taught him. A few minutes later, his little daughter quietly walked into the living room, walked to him in little, innocence-filled steps, hugged him, and said, "Papá, al fin llegaste. Te extrañé." ("Dad, you finally came. I missed you.") He started crying and said, "Por ella voy a cambiar." ("For her I'm going to change.")

Months later, a different man ran into me while I was serving in another area. He was a well groomed, clean, and healthy man. (I can't say a Latter-day Saint man, but that's not my point anyway.) He said he knew me and he was treating me like I was one of his life-long friends. After realizing I simply did not recognize him, he said, "Hermano, yo soy aquel hombre con la mordida de perro en la cara que era alcohólico." ("Brother, I am that man with the dogbite on his face who was an alcoholic.") It was then that I realized, "This really was the man the little girl (his daughter) could always see."

My point? The picture posted is of a person, not a bottle. So easy to forget that. And even easier to believe some people are beyond hope. While we don't all demonstrate it, we all want a better life. I hope that man found a "daughter" on time.

Smile Even With Your Liver

Recently I've had a heartbreak that has caused a lot of sadness, confusion, and loneliness. If you know me, you know I am one of those people who realizes happiness is not an event, but the result of real, personal, conscious effort. So to say I'm working overtime to get over this heartbreak is an understatement--I want to be happy again! HAPPIER THAN I WAS BEFORE!

It's been said one can smile with the liver. At least in the book I am currently reading, "EAT, PRAY, LOVE" by Elizabeth Gilbert. While being taught to meditate, an old, happy medicine man teaches her "the most easy way to meditate." He tells her to sit and smile--smile with all her being, "smile even with your liver." So today, I sat and smiled with my liver.

I had originally planned to go to the nearby track and run a mile under the sun--(you know, Vitamin D gets me in a good mood)--but then it started raining as I was walking there. Then, I thought I would go sit at the middle school right next to the track, and read (since I took my book with me anyway for after the run.) I figured I'd just sit in a covered area. Then, I saw there were a bunch of kids there doing who knows what. So I had to walk home without my run, without my read.

When I got home, I realized that what I was looking for at the track--being in nature, relaxing by reading, and meditating--could all be done at my house. I have a beautifully green front yard, and two large trees. So instead of coming in my house, I sat under one of those treas and started reading. It was great to read this book I love so much, but all I could think was, "I need to smile with my liver." I put the book down, and started what at that moment I would call, "quote on quote 'meditation."'

Not thinking it would be real meditation, I still did it because I just wanted to FEEL a smile that powerfully. I smiled with my mouth, and really tried to feel it in my gut. Then I realized, "wait, I need to smile with ALL my face, not just the mouth." So I tried to smile with my forehead and my eyes, then my cheeks and even my chin. As I was all smiley, I started looking around me, observing.

There was a large mountain ahead that never seemed so captivating. Though it was far, it was close. But even closer to it were some lush, green trees. They were the trees on the block next to mine. Then, even closer, I noticed the soft, cushioned green grass in my front yard. The grass I was sitting on. Then, as I looked up, I saw above me a powerful, strong-willed tree, "planted" in its path in life. And I was leaning on it. I couldn't help but feel how beautiful this Earth is... and all I could think was, "I bet God feels a sense of accomplishment for sticking with it for so long."

I begin trying to find the lesson in all this that is around me. Knowing that I am at the epicenter of beauty and that I must be changed by it, I begin trying to find the parallel between myself and this Earth; between my pursuit of happiness and Gods beautiful Earth. Still not realizing what it means to be at the "epicenter," a good amount of knowledge does come, "It took God hundreds of years to create this, but, damn, look what resulted! Like the tree I lean on, I must remain planted in my path in life. Happiness. Love."

Still smiling, but now in a real way, I decided I wanted to continue observing. I had already looked in front of, behind, to the sides, below and even above me. So, after taking another glance at the grass near me, I realized the only place left to look at was... me. The epicenter. I started by looking at my legs. Somehow that was enough to observe all of me. And without even realizing it, a thought from outside of me came, "This beauty is in me too."

Smile even with your liver.

"Oh Mom, It Was So Easy."

Oprah, who happens to be one of my heroins and role models, share's a story of a dying son who's last words to his mother were, "Oh Mom, it was so easy." The son and mother had been suffering with his illness for one year until it overtook him. Yet he lets his mom know it was easy. I'd like to talk of two very powerful things this taught me about living.

For the living, we often think our life is too hard--or better yet, that we are too week. But regardless of how many times we wonder why us, we need to realize its not that hard. In other words, we need to realize how easy it is... if we only realize how strong WE are. And its not even about being optimistic, it is about being REALISTIC.

For years now, I have regretted greatly not trusting my mother with... me. I did not allow her to be the best friend of the real me. I never communicated to her as I really am, and I have truly and profoundly regretted that. Lamentably, I realized that after she died. I realized she would have been the only person to understand, accept and adequately support and befriend me. But today, that lamentation has changed.

As I heard Oprah say the words of the dying son, I heard them said in the voice of my mother, "Oh son, it was so easy." As I type this, I find myself crying tears of relief. I KNOW she is in this room with me. Madre, te quiero.

And my mother has told me, "Instead of living in regret for not having a better relationship with me, realize your problems are 'so easy.' BE happy! Realize your so-called problem is meant for your happiness. And most of all, realize it is so easy NOW--not in hindsight!"

Mother, it IS easy. :)

Funny

There is one problem when you're perceived as "funny": you often wonder if they are laughing with you or AT you. "Are they laughing because what I said or did was funny, or are they laughing AT me?" This especially happens when you didn't even realize you were being funny until after people around you start laughing. I mean you weren't even trying and yet laughter was the result. It's really kind of an awkward, confusing and, surprisingly, still somewhat of a pleasant moment to be caught in.

I'm not saying everyone finds me funny, or much less that I believe I am, but some people have told me that I'm funny. And then a few don't even have to say it, they're laughter gives it away. And those in particular are the ones that cause my confusion about the matter. There are a few of them in my life, who just smile and laugh the minute we see each other. That worries me.

How is it that I'm not even trying to make them laugh, and the second they see me they laugh? Come on, that seems a tad cruel. Am I that ugly? Or is it my hair? Or my weight? Or is it that disgustingly huge pimple I have on my mustache area? (Unfortunately, I really do have a huge pimple today, I'm not trying to be funny.)

Today, for example, I went to play volleyball and saw a person I recently became friends with. The second he saw me he smiled and laughed. So I was thrown off by that, and I honestly didn't know how to react. Um... okay, I'm beginning to realize it was the pimple. No, but in all seriousness, this is not the first time he laughs, it has happened a few times before the pimple. Anyway, I didn't want to be rude and say, "what the heck are you laughing at?" But I really wondered. I ended up just telling myself, "He's just being polite and doing what normal people should do when seeing someone, say hi and smile."

As I think about this, I am reminded of two specific people with whom I too am "polite" and "say hi and smile." In an effort to know if I am making a fool of myself to cause the laughter, I have asked myself why THEY make ME laugh. My laughter is not based on malice or condescension upon them. I don't find them to be fools, ugly, fat or anything like that. One has acne sometimes and the other doesn't, so acne is not the cause either. They just naturally seem like happy, unpretentious people; and so I find that refreshing and joy inspiring---at (often) times funny.

Now, I am sure those are not the same reasons a few of my friends find me humorous. But, honestly, does it really matter why someone finds us funny? As long as we're not intentionally hurting anyone in the process, it can't be that bad. A smile is a good thing, and a smile with laughter behind it is even better.

May we all be a little less self-conscious and less afraid to be who we are. If that happens to be "funny" in the eyes of another, then perhaps we have the opportunity to be a little blessing called "joy" in their lives. "Funny" is one of those simple pleasures of life. And the blessing to us, the people being laughed with or at? If you can make someone laugh, you can make a friend.

Just real quick, don't TRY to be funny. Nothing more annoying.

Self Worth and Self Respect

(Because I wish this story to apply to both males and females, this will be a story about "Person.")

There once was a Person who felt unlike any other... until God taught Person a very important life lesson. Person was tired of responsibility, of having to be socially fit, and of living life as others seemed to define. So because it seemed perfect to solve the problem, Person decided to go on a trip to Utopialand.

In Utopialand, people are not judge mental, persons could be persons, not Others, and there are no "definitions." It is the land people like Person can go to to take a brake from "Life." So person determined to go there for a few days.

However, "Life" seemed to be against this trip. Before the trip even started, things began going badly. Person got sick and ended up in the emergency room. But, because Person was a hard headed person--wait, no, Person calls it "Determined"--after receiving medicine and taking a couple days of rest, Person embarked on the trip to Utopialand anyway. Halfway to Utopialand, however, Person's car broke.

The car broke A Few Miles Away from the nearest town. And, in A Few Miles Away, it was dark and it was somewhat chilly, especially at 2 am, when Person's car broke. Now, because Person was alone and too far from "Life," Person had to walk to the nearest town and hire a tow truck to take the car to the nearest hotel. It only cost Person 150 dollars... plus another 55 for the hotel room. After 20 minutes of sleep, Person awoke to face a grueling 17 hours of walking in this strange town to find tools, an alternator and a battery to fix the car, and mechanic work.

Person's only true help was Person's Family, which, though far, far away in "Back Home," still sent Person money for expenses and helped by being as supportive as possible.

Finally, at about 8 pm, Person fixed the car! But Person now was too tired to continue on to Utopialand. Besides, practically two days that would have been spent there were spent on fixing the car and loosing sleep and money because of it. So, Person had no choice but to return to Life.

Life was a place that had never seemed so attractive before. After so much crap that Person had been through, Life didn't seem so bad after all--in fact, it felt like a relief! But Person couldn't help wondering why God would allow so many trials; why life was so difficult and packed with challenges all of a sudden. And, to make matters worse, on top of all that Person had lost two friends and come close to losing two others that same week. So with Family being Back Home and a sudden reduction in friends, person was not only confused and tired, but very alone. Alone made it all feel so much worse.

After wondering and wondering, Person understood one thing: Person was missing Self Worth and Self Respect in life. Self Worth and Self Respect are not a place, not another's definition, not a social norm to fit in, not another's form of judgement nor the lack of. They are not what "Uniques" lack and Socialites abound in. And most importantly, the lack of Self Worth and Self Respect is not the meaning of "Unlike any other"--or at least it shouldn't be.

All those challenges were to help Person understand that the place Person really needed to travel to was the place of Self Worth and Self Respect, not Utopialand. Perhaps Person will forever feel "Unique," "Different," "Unlike any others," but Person still considers this trip one of the best trips ever. It was full of sickness, fatigue, feelings of inadequecy, mechanical difficulties, and loneliness. But it was well worth it because Person learned that being different is no excuse for having a lack of Self Worth and Self Respect. Person is now on the journey of Self Worth and Self Respect.