To all my subscribers and new readers, please feel free to subscribe to my new page which is located at www.homospirituality.com.
Thus ends my efforts to rescue Jesus. Mission accomplished. Hope you will join me at the new site!
Namaste ~
gail
www.facebook.com/homospirituality
Death.
Where is thy sting? (1 Cor 15:55)
Oh I don’t have to go far to wonder that.
It’s right here, in my eyes, as I type out the words that my 78-year old father died.
It’s right here, in my heart, when I remember his tone on one of his last voicemails, weakened by years of smoking, coughing, maybe crying and certainly a twinge of wonder and worry as he said, “Honey it may be a matter of days. Pray for me. Pray for yourself.”
It’s right here, in my mind, while I grieve the fact that even his “warning” wasn’t enough because I wasn’t ready to say that my father, one of two people who brought me into this world, has left this world.
It’s right here, in my tears, that flow with an endless concern about what he’s doing right now.
It’s right here, in my hands that now host a memory of holding the box of his ashes…
Once you’ve held your father in your own two hands, you realize, death has a sting.
Especially because you are only one degree of separation away from being dust too.
This post will be the last from this site, as I will be allowing the death of my father to be the tipping point that forces me to end the attempts to rescue Jesus from Fundamentalists and begin rescuing myself from the belief that death or life is to be feared, or that god is to be put into a box and held in my two feeble hands.
I don’t yet know how but just as the death of a stranger brought me to back to life as a writer in the spring, the death of my own flesh and bone now brings me into a spiritual rebirth.
Homospiritual rebirth even.
My life has been changed by the death of my father.
For Gail So Loved the World will continue but under a new site, a new look and a whole new purpose.
Until then…
RIP peace Dad.
“Whatever our fathers are to us, in all their human imperfection, they anchor us in the world for better or worse. They do the best they know how, most of them, and the blessing of their passing is the opportunity for us to put away the parts that didn’t work so well for us in a box and allow all that was good to sit prominently on the eye-level shelf of our memory.” – Ellen Fenner
http://tribune-democrat.com/obituaries/x1700249388/Charles-Edward-Dickert
(Warning: Reading this post may cause more spiritual reflection than you were originally prepared to experience today. This is not for the skeptic who doesn’t think any answers exist or the Fundamentalist who thinks all has already been figured out. It’s for the rest of us in between, who know we are fashioned for flight but are still waiting for our wings.)
I reflected and meditated deeply on what I would post today, without being dismissive of the need for others to process their stories, nor did I want to dismiss my own memories of the anniversary. However, I’m becoming a more intentional writer and for several days I worked with a mantra to ”Be Universal, Be of the Light” with today’s post.
That sounds about as hippie, new-age, homospiritual and psychobabble-ish as it comes, right?
Alas, true to form, what evolved was a poem that I find frustratingly ethereal but incredibly grounding at the same time. I don’t know how that happens but the very simplest of concepts can become the most complex when we try to use words to capture it.
My point today is this: When we live in our moment, in our bodies, we learn that home is where the soul is and the soul, right now is… in the body that we currently possess.
Another way of stating it is simply to say that we are where we are.
Fully knowing and accepting that means I’m accountable for the moment I was given… and in it, if I am able to find a sense of “home,” then nothing else will matter.
So my prompts to you today are:
Do you feel at home in your own body?
Are you longing for a sense of peace that is outside of your body?
Can you sense that your soul resides comfortably in that space you call “you?”
This is the goal today, for me and for many who meditate upon being human.
It is my belief that when Jesus went alone to pray, it is upon such things that he set his intentions: How to be human. When we seek enlightenment, peace or understanding we do not need to seek something outside of own bodies, but we go inward, as deeply as we will allow ourselves to go… and we seek the Divine within…
Because She is there, waiting for you.
He is there, a living Light inside of you.
She is the author of your story and He is the truth of your experience.
The Divine… within the human?
What else could transcend trauma more than this?
~~
Without any further reflection and prompt, I share the poem that I hope will pierce the thick cloud of memories and emotional hooks that draw you outside of your body today…
Go into your body. That’s where your soul is.
Go into your “home” today. And be safe, in your own skin.
May it Be Universal and Be of the Light…
~~
A Home for the Soul (by gail dickert)
“My body houses my feelings like a dam that could flood a small village.
My body houses my heart with its doubts that could talk a child out of her innocent smile.
My body houses my wounds about invasions and persuasions that could turn a flower into a scorpion.
But more than that, my body houses my soul with its visions and dreams that could turn the face of the Divine into the face of every man, woman and child.
My soul could turn a small village into a community of friends.
My soul could turn a child’s innocence into a mantra of light.
And my soul could turn a scorpion into a voice of freedom.
This soul about which I write, she is greater than my body but for now, she is in fact, at home in my body.
So I will visit with her , listen for her wisdom and know that no matter what happens, everywhere I go, I am there…
And I am home.”
Have you ever worried about something to the point that you couldn’t make a decision without crying or getting a pain in your stomach as you tried to prevent the worst from happening…
Only to end up being wrong about the damn whole thing and feeling like you wasted all that energy over nothing?
Thankfully this is a rare occurrence for me but when it does happen, I remember it forever and allow it to change me because anxiety is one of those forces that can make a blue sky turn yellow with fear or transform a simple puddle into a rip tide. Anxiety has a way of taking everything and blowing it so far out of proportion that not only does the molehill become a mountain, the mountains are filled with monsters who will haunt the villagers for centuries to come.
A few weeks ago, I went into a tailspin of anxiety about a pending move and by the time the dust settled, I couldn’t believe how upset I had been over something that I simply couldn’t control.
Alas, that is what the root cause of anxiety really is: deep concern about what I cannot control and the fear that I will not be able to survive whatever the Universe has in store for me.
In order to support my personal healing as well as to protect myself from the obvious anxiety that is stirred up in by the media this weekend as most of us try not to relive our collective cultural wound, I wanted to share a poem that I memorized as a way of mesmerizing myself into a meditative state. It’s a self-calming exercise that reminds me that while I cannot choose anything from what terrorists will do to what leasing agents will screw up…
I can choose to make a space inside of my being for the Divine. Welcoming the Divine into every fiber of my being is my way of dealing with anxiety… and now, after all is said and done, everything is as it should be and I can handle whatever the Universe sends my way…
And you can too.
~~
The following poem is from Rev. Jim Cotter, as listed on the opening pages of “Anatomy of the Spirit” by Caroline Myss… as memorized by me:
~ God be in my head and in my understanding.
God be in my eyes and in my looking.
God be in my mouth and in my speaking.
God be in my tongue and in my tasting.
God be in my lips and in my greeting.
~ God be in my nose and in my smelling/inhaling.
God be in my ears and in my hearing.
God be in my neck and in my humbling.
God be in my shoulders and in my bearing.
God be in my back and in my standing.
~ God be in my arms and in my reaching/receiving.
God be in my hands and in my working.
God be in my legs and in my walking.
God be in my feet and in my grounding.
God be in my knees and in my relating.
~ God be in my gut and in my feeling.
God be in my bowels and in my forgiving.
God be in my loins and in my swiving.
God be in my lungs and in my breathing.
God be in my heart and in my loving.
~ God be in my skin and in my touching.
God be in my flesh and in my paining/pining.
God be in my blood and in my living.
God be in my bones and in my dying.
God be at my end and at my reviving.”
Forgiving Exodus International for their soul-raping ways has left me with a mild case of identity crisis.
First of all, when you exist solely to fight your oppressor, your oppressor becomes a part of your identity.
Secondly, when you receive praise for fighting your oppressor, your oppressor’s existence also becomes latched into your self-esteem.
Finally, when you stop believing that your oppressor is your enemy, you’re left with the question…
Why am I doing any of this?
As most of you know, I published my first book 7 years ago, (http://rescuejesus.wordpress.com/lesbian-coming-out-book) but then a series of wounds prevented me from moving forward in the “activist” scene. When I made this “triumphant return” 5 months ago, I thought for sure that my main objective would be to focus on the words, actions and energies that would create the best weapon for overcoming fundamentalism. (Ending Fundamentalism… the New F Bomb?) I thought I would craft powerful narratives that would light a fire under even the most complacent reader and we would all begin to see that Fundamentalism is a violent force against the very nature of the Divine and work towards its destruction.
I thought my calling was to shine the light on the darkness of my oppressors.
I thought that being right was the more important work that I was to be engaged in as a writer.
After all, what’s so wrong with being right?
Well, as I discussed in my forgiveness post to Exodus, focusing on being right maintains the same pattern of thought as what the fundamentalists teach. The need to be right is a vehicle that doesn’t have to lead to hate but it is one that knows the way… so forgiveness, for me, was getting out of that vehicle and learning to walk a different path.
What I’ve learned in the last 5 months is that this work is about relationships… and being whole is more important than being right.
Restoring a sense of personal power and a trustworthy community is more important than making sure Alan Chambers hears me call him a soul-molester. (The truth: He is a soul-molester but he is also oppressing his own self and that must be a far greater pain than I can understand anymore).
So I will continue to call Exodus International what it is but let me be clear…
I exist not to shine the light on the dark world of Christian Fundamentalism.
I exist to be a light in the rainbow-colored world of those recovering from any kind of oppression, be it religious or otherwise.
I’m here to shine not for those in darkness…
But for those in dim, gray places where hope was almost lost.
I’m here… for survivors.
That is why For Gail So Loved the World exists…
I’ve never felt more whole than I do right now.
Thank you all for being here, where all are welcome… no exceptions.
I love you so much I could burst into a thousand rainbows.
~~
This post is dedicated to the fine healing work being done through New Wings. Please feel free to check out their website (www.new-wings.org) to learn more about how to be a part of healing from fundamentalism… we’re in this together.
As always, if you are a survivor of the ex-gay movement specifically, please reach out to our community at Beyond Ex-Gay. You are not alone. www.beyondexgay.com
Oh and no worries… I’ll still find a way to be a snarky satirist from time-to-time. I mean, I forgave the fundies but I didn’t have a lobotomy!
When you see the end of an era coming upon your soul, resistance is futile… wholeness is the only option.
Exodus International, I forgive you for teaching me that there is a God who is intolerant of me.
Exodus International, I forgive you for pulling me away from my body.
Exodus International, I forgive you for pulling me away from my family.
Exodus International, I forgive you for dividing me from my own mind.
Exodus International, I forgive you for dividing me from my own spirit.
Exodus International, I forgive you for raping my soul.
Exodus International, I forgive you for molesting my identity.
Exodus International, I forgive you…
Not because you have stopped hurting others with your cult tactics.
Not because you aren’t guilty of attempting to control others with ideas about heterosexual supremacy.
But because you taught me how to hate…
And it’s time I surrender that tactic entirely.
Forgiveness is my act of self-love and an act of refusing to hold any space for hate, even hatred for your ways.
I will not have space for hate anymore.
I will not hate myself for being human.
I will not hate God for making me homosexual.
I will not hate people for not understanding how spirituality and sexuality beautifully converge.
I will not hate churches for refusing to honor my commitment to love.
I will not hate this world for being a place where choices are taken away from us.
I will be a person of love.
So, in short…
Exodus International, love really did win out for me.
Because I forgive you for teaching me to hate.
~~
For anyone who has been damaged by the ex-gay movement’s attempt at genocide, know that there is hope and you will move BEYOND being “ex-gay.” www.beyondexgay.com And for anyone who has ever held on too long to an injury to your soul, know that in just wanting to let go, a change will come, the earth will tremble and eventually, forgiveness will find you…
In the News: Exodus shuts down its residential soul-raping facility. This is the power of forgiveness at work, friends: http://www.exgaywatch.com/wp/2011/09/love-in-action-suspends-residential-program/
To read more about my most recent transformation regarding ex-gay survival, follow the “ex-gay lie” category on my blog or view this post: http://rescuejesus.wordpress.com/2011/07/07/ex-gay-confessions-christian-fundies/
Surviving an earthquake and a hurricane in the same week can definitely be cause for reflection. I kept thinking, “I’m going to write some bad ass poetry out of these disasters” but instead all I was able to do was hunker down and be around family, friends, (my dog) and spend time alone asking myself probing questions about what it means to be “Gail” in a world that can often be chaotic, uncertain and energetically windy, rainy and shaken.
All the reflection is tedious as always but it has left me with the ever-present reality that if I’m going to forgive the leaders of the ex-gay movement, which we all know is the spiritual, psychological and socially responsible thing to do, I have to let go of one simple fact:
Forgiveness may not be good for my career.
Ya see, if I want to be a well-respected writer or political activist, I should keep a certain amount of ”unforgiveness” handy so I can write angry posts about what they did to me or how they should be put out of business because of their unrelenting soul-raping in the name of God. I mean, will I still feel that way and still be a proponent against ex-gay fundamentalism once I’m standing on the other side of forgiveness?
I’m wise to the ways of the world (though I’m not sure how that’s happened at my ripe young age) so I know that what sells is OUTRAGE and HYSTERIA regarding injustice. We have to get really pissed off as if someone kicked our puppies or punched our children before we actually take action. How will forgiveness boost my blog readership, help me find an agent or prepare me for finishing my book when what people really read are posts about my outrage? What happens when I’m just righteously indignant rather than repeatedly wounded?
How will wholeness fair with this audience?
I want to think Oscar Wilde had it right when he wrote, “Always forgive your enemies – nothing annoys them so much.” However, it would mean that I would stay fired up, channeling revenge energy and that isn’t at all what I want my life to be about, eve
n if it means the claim to fame goes… unclaimed.
If being seen and heard means sacrificing my soul, I choose that I would rather continue a quiet journey with my humble community, new friends, and fellow survivors than need to burn with a rage against their fundie machine that is still molesting innocent minds and sexually repressing wounded souls.
Sometimes, the cure is to be the cause of your own healing… to be your own cure.
It’s not sexy but…
It’s what life is about when the earth shakes, the power goes out and you’re left with nothing but your roots.
As always, time in nature clears away paths that lead to awareness, healing and ultimately, spiritual wellness. That played out for me over the last few weeks after recovering from a peculiar bacterial infection that actually cannot be explained by Western medicine (not that I’m surprised). I spent time in nature, clearing my qi and trying to separate out the “needs” from the “wants” and walk in the moment versus striving for the future. Sounds a little lofty but when you spend even 5 minutes a day watching with curious eyes and listening with expectant ears, something special can happen…
The journey that I’ve been on has been intense in the way that a sunburn is intense. I put myself out there, hoping for a nice golden tan but have at times found myself lying face down on my bed praying for a bucket of Aloe Vera to be poured over my singed skin. Since I came back to the scene 5 months ago, the new book is coming along, the blog posts are getting an impressive amount of traffic for someone who isn’t even getting paid to do this, the Facebook community on my author page (www.facebook.com/homospirituality) is rich with personality and authentic love for one another and ultimately, I’m recovering from the spiritual laryngitis that was transmitted to me by the ex-gay genocide and Christian Fundamentalism.
I have my voice back, as a writer, activist and a person who simply wants Love to win out in all circumstances, however volatile they may first appear to be.
My challenge now, given to me from whatever angels, spirits, internal voices, God or Divine Spark who have decided to accompany on my journey is simply to look at my roots… examine them, meditate upon their gnarled ways and accept their woven paths under and over dirt and other roots.
Roots.
Spend time looking at them next time you are standing near a tree. A tree with exposed roots looks naked, as if its secrets are being told right there, before your eyes… someone with a biology degree could probably explain it away with principles of erosion but to me, when I look at the roots of trees, I cannot help but wonder what my roots would look like.
Are there some that are dried out, choked out, too deep to unearth, or too shallow to survive and support the overall tree with its branches?
My confession today is that in looking at my roots, I have unearthed the importance of the F word.
Forgiveness. (Which does elicit another F word, I know… )
I have become aware of the fact that I have not forgiven the people who raped my soul with their lies about God, Jesus, Christian community, sexuality and ultimately, my identity. Their lies left scars that have kept me from trusting others, believing in myself and knowing that I am welcome in spiritual communities. Granted, I no longer believe their lies and all of the people I meet along my new path lead me to healing but that does not change what they did…
And forgiveness, as we all know, is the gift we give ourselves.
But what is it that holds us back from forgiving?
I don’t think it’s as simple as one post, saying, “Hey I forgive them.” This is going to be a series of posts and only in sharing more about the roots will I be able to understand what it means to be willing to forgive and better yet, maybe actually learn how to forgive…
As always, thanks for being a part of my journey and sharing yours with me. For some of us, our roots are intersecting and it’s a beautiful thing. The emails that I receive mean so much to me and they always outweigh the hate-filled comments. Please feel free to share more of your story by emailing at gail_dickert@yahoo.com or finding me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/gail316. Both are Fundie-free zones where healing and forgiveness will never be choked out.
After reading a post by religion writer, Becky Garrison, I decided it’s time I chime in on the subject of “Progressive Christianity.” This is going to be short and probably not-so-sweet commentary because there’s something rising up inside of me that has to do with newness and perhaps new wine in old wineskins, to draw from the Bible (gasp!)
I propose, right from the start, that what we are attempting to do by marrying two ideas such as “progressive” and “Christian” is already an unequally-yolked union destined for divorce court. Perhaps we are guilty of trying to mix oil and water and calling it wine!
I know, my Christian readers furrow their brows and my atheist readers cheers. I’m openly torn on the subject. I mean, isn’t progressive Christian an oxymoron? (Who you calling a moron?) But then again, wasn’t Jesus a progressive force to be reckoned with, challenging the religious leaders, political leaders and anyone who came in his path to think outside of the “status quo?” Wasn’t Jesus one of the most progressive people of his time and of any age?
As always, my jury is still out, especially because it is comprised of a group of peers who do identify as progressive Christians and that identity seems to be serving them quite well.
But as I read the post that describes how once again Sojourner’s Magazine a “progressive Christian” organization (ahem, business) falls short of being progressive in their treatment of LGBTQ concerns, we have several options. We can do as Ms. Garrison suggests and develop new labels for groups like this. Perhaps “traditionalist progressives” is a working option or maybe we need to go back to the drawing board…
And make a distinction not between progressive and conservative but authentic versus inauthentic.
I hate labels as next as the next Homospiritual Lesbian Hippie Wanna-Be but if we do require labels in order to maintain a conversation, know where someone is coming from and identify obstacles to understanding, let’s go with authentic vs. inauthentic.
Christianity that excludes, promotes division and moves us towards external conflict rather is inauthentic.
Christianity that includes, promotes understanding and draws us towards internal revelation, consciousness and action is authentic.
Let’s try those on for a bit and see how it goes.
I may not be able to prove it’s what Jesus would do, what Paul would say or what the Pope may approve of but it’s what Gail is going to try…
Authentic Christianity.
Maybe the people at Sojourner’s are more comfortable with the “journey” they are on but I wager that not only will business be affected by their policies, flip-flopping and inauthentic expression of Christianity, the people there will begin to listen to the stories of their friends and family members and refuse to work for an organization that doesn’t welcome all, no exceptions.
That’s my creative activism today: I’m sitting with the workers at Sojourners… all of them. We are having a sit-in and we are going on strike because FAMILY matters and inclusion is the only model of family worth emulating.
~
To read Becky Garrison’s article, go here: http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/on-faith/post/what-to-call-progressive-christian-who-struggle-with-lgbt-equality/2011/08/19/gIQA6J9VQJ_blog.html
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