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Slow-Cooked Conversion Stories

I was raised in one of those white nationalist churches,
passing itself off as a Christian evangelical Bible church,
where “evangelical” meant fundamental
and “fundamental” meant we did not interpret scripture
but accepted it as God’s literal trans-historical Word
of universal white male dominant
Bible thumping supremacy,
transcendently un-changing like…
like…
like nothing I’ve ever seen or heard
or smelled or tasted

Which is why we call not-Him-or-Her “God”
and not “SuperEgo”
or multicultural “Gaia”

Or anything else.
It turns out “God”
is a bit like not saying Valdemore’s name;
As Yahweh
is more about the ambiguously missing vowels
than their YHWH
YYXY
Either/Or-Both/And
bicameral structure.

Anyway, enough about sacred bisensory ecology.
While at People’s Bible Church
I was told, by all the white heterosexual adults
supporting and educating me
that being born again is not a gradual thing,
like growing into a pubescent body,
but instant,
like convenient oatmeal
or inferior mashed potatoes.

If I could not say,
with one hundred percent persuasion,
that I was reborn in Christ
on May 8, 1964
at 2:53 PM
Eastern Savings Time,
Just as I was originally born
on May 8, 1952
at 2:53 A.M.,
much to my mother’s inconvenience–
finished just in time to get home
to our dairy farm
for an unleisurely visit with “The Girls”
during her morning milking parlor gig–
Then the deviant
devilish mark of Satan
still clouds my not so milky white
not straight enough
not truly pure soul.

Such instant and yet resilient grace
felt unlikely to me.

I did not instantly lose hope
for a hot SantaDaddy
sliding down our family chimney
emerging from the family wood-burning furnace,
scorched of unnecessary
and superfluous clothes
to give me all the fruited manly gifts
I have felt so empty without
warm and wet accompaniment,
accomplishment.

Gradually,
over several years of neglecting this Santa myth
as cultural fantasy,
I did not wake up on May 8, 1956,
at 2:53 A.M.
and announce to all those not listening,
“I no longer believe in Santa Claus.”

De-mythification progress
seems to take me
about as long as my left-brain
dominating commodification process
took to grow into queer adolescence,
feeling unsafe,
unwanted,
with a best case possible future
of invisible insignificance,
hidden deeply beneath healthy humility.

Just as it took awhile to comfortably acclimate
to the toothlessness of myth,
It took me all my development years
on into late adolescence
to be sure that I would never safely
or resiliently convert
into a heterosexual.

When we were mutually experimenting grade school boys
during not much sleep overs
I was sure we shared the same destiny–
future heterosexuals,
Mr. Cleavers,
Mr. Smiths
not all too fascinated with Mr. Johnsons.

I didn’t suddenly realize,
“Oops. I failed to convert.”
Maybe I was a late bloomer,
just as some girls get pubes
and teats
and mensies later on
which seemed like more unfair girl pressure
than just sprouting new hair in old moist places
and growing at least somewhat less girlish voices.

Just as there was no May 8, 2:53 P.M.
of any year
when I knew,
“OK, that’s it.
It’s done growing
in both length and width.”
I had no day or night
when I said,
“OK, that’s it.
I choose to be queer”
so I can be the target of hate crimes,
bad jokes,
white Christian heterosexual predators,
bigoted employers,
homophobic police
and teachers
and parents
and siblings,
and preachers

Fully capable of witnessing against me
the exact date, time, and year
they began their life long love affair
with white male Jesus Christ,
straight (presumably) Jewish carpenter’s apprentice,
Son of God and…
and…
God,
who finished creating Earth,
and at least our entire Solar System,
exactly seven days
after He started, on May 8th
at 2:53 A.M.,
year 0000.

I have developed health-considered faith
in win/win progressive processes.
I accept that faith actively hopes in unseen relationships,
unheard communications,
unnoticed actions and reactions.

Still,
I find an always changing
transparent
vulnerable,
courageously curious difference
between left-brain statements of verbal instant faith,
and right/left-brain emerging lifeskill learnings
conversions
healings
redemptively felt economies,
salvific co-relational powers,

And I have trouble believing
that such ubiquitous differences
between slow-grown processive maturation
and imitative instant role-playing
is only accessible to queers,
white, black, brown, red, purple, green, or ultra-violet,
born on May 8, 1952
at 2:53 A.M.
much to the inconvenience
of busy heterosexual
pre-millennial dairy farmers.

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Listening for Healthier Scripts

I know,
in both head
and anemic heart,
other climate healers
right here and now,
compassion theaters
across Earth’s internationalized space
and throughout tribal time
breathe integrity’s potential
acting
thinking
feeling out and in there and here
somewhere close
and somewhere far
across Earth’s polluted oceans,

Yet my own everyday
immediate family relationships
neither speak nor hear
anything of this cooperative win/win integrity.

What am I?
What are we
listening to instead?

Internal climates of despair
about outside long-weathered detachment,
disintegration,
desecration,
degeneration

Win/Lose competitive commodification of life,
evolution of ego-expansion,
anthro-history hubris of detachment,
now rabidly fragmenting
into organic ecosystemic empires
of self-isolated would-be communicators
for and against our future experiential lose/lose outcomes,
or maybe win/lose, though highly unlikely,
in a ZeroSum,
winner takes all, capitalized Wealth economy,
or maybe win/win personal and public
economic and ecological
political and empowering prospects
of secular/sacred integrity scripts
scriptures

Regenerative transcriptions
still powering with
not not degenerative inscriptions

To Lose exterior nature, is to Lose interior spirit;
To Lose secular faith, is to Lose sacred hope;
To Lose integral health, is to Lose integrity wealth;

To Lose RightWing Win/Lose zealous zero-zone dominance,
is to Lose LeftWing ego-liberated,
not interdependently ecocentric,
climate health EarthTribe prominence.

To Win/Win
breathes in and out transubstantiation,
just this here and now,
appositional cooperative,
secular/sacred compassion.

Curious,
such lack of re-attaching courage
to give voice to feeling needy
for shared compassion
with each other,
within our families, extended and nuclear,
within ourselves, eco-big and ego-small,
as with Earth’s exterior healthier climate
prospects for future familial regenerators
of all species,
and parties,
and local communities,
and global universities
of ecological/theological inter-relationships.

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Conversion Therapies

I could not support a ban on Conversion Therapy
to change gay into straight,
spirals into lines,
because I believe we should each be free
to pay for any alternative languages
someone might be prepared to make
and write
and speak,
with self-marketing audiences to listen
with therapeutic outcomes genuinely preferred.

If some unhappy gay person,
or lesbian longing to be not,
remains willing to invest in persuasions
to switch teams,
transfer and exchange identities,
then that’s a high risk investment
that will die its own ego-exhausting death
when conversion
levels into diverse reversions
and/or some depriving perversion of healthy cooperating love,
or inversions into repressive silos called despair
and, more likely, some of all
of the above.

But, conversion therapy for unhappy gay to happy straight
only if this becomes equally available
accessible therapies
for unhappy straight toward happy gay,
for if it can work
to teach someone into a different dominant identity,
then it could work both ways,
more bisexually.

And, if conversion therapies can,
they should,
to be fair to all those unhappy
with their current team,
or teams,
preferably multiculturing toward health,
rather than monoculturing toward further climates of pathology.

Then we might invite further Conversion Therapies.
Unhappy Conservatives
becoming wealthier quasi-progressive
Earth natural-spiritual residents again,
and vice versa,
except more ecotherapeutic conservators
of regeneratively full-steamed life.

If all it takes is investing in some therapist
to convert my unhappiest attributes
into those that would make my new best ecopolitical day,
then such therapy should not just be free
from gay to straight
and straight to gay
but equally persuasive
for all now feeling out
wanting more in toward sane integrity.

But, investors beware,
we have had many WinLose Therapists
for unhappy powers to become more capital rich,
yet only few narrow WinWin unhappy rich
to become more simply and contentedly reinvesting
away from larger WinLose anti-therapeutic tragedies.

The larger WinLose therapeutic sector
has best outcomes
only for already full-played out entrepreneurial change agents,
and their larger scale not-so-therapeutic marketers
of further competitions
within and between
our diverse unhappy identities.

Conversion AntiTherapy
would be so funny
if not so ecopolitically tragic.

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