Lots of thoughts today. Lots of music. Lots of moments.
I still keep some of my garments. Garments are the "underwear" a Mormon wears after going through the temple for the first time. Occasionally I still wear them. I have a relationship with these pieces of material shaped into symbolic clothing that isn't really unique. They are hot, and they are uncomfortable, but I wore them for a decade, despite being deeply opposed to forced modesty when I think that modesty is and should be an internal characteristic rather than an external one. Garments symbolize much more than modesty, but they become a tool for judgement about hemlines way too often.
With all of that, sometimes I still wear them. And I never minded wearing them to the temple, when I went, as a piece of ceremonial clothing. Somedays I wear them because they are familiar. Other days I wear them because I long for a sort of connection to this world I know so well, but from which I have chosen to separate myself.
Today I wore them. And today the bottoms I was wearing formed two holes. I once heard the story of a gay man who had grown up in the Mormon church making his own garments. After coming out, he could no longer go to the temple nor buy garments. But they were sacred to him. When his last pieces wore out, he decided to make them. I was still attending church services when I heard his story. He wanted so desperately to be part of this thing that he loved, but he couldn't be. I left, in part, for him. For the sum of stories just like his. There are so many stories just like his.
And today I am faced with the fragility of my own garments. Of threadbare connections. Of everything the temple meant and means to me. I am aware of being written off, of others' misplaced fear that I will lead people astray. I've heard all of the stories - of people's concern that my truth affects the truth of others. Sometimes it makes me laugh. I'm "controversial." Other times it breaks my heart. My garments - will I patch them or let them go? I'm not sure.
This evening, after the holes and wondering, I was watching a documentary about Nina Simone. Some of the final words were a quote from Romans 12.
And I fill it out: Do not conform to the pattern of this world [or institution that feels like a world], but be transformed by the renewing of your mind [over and over and over again] [so you can reach out and feel the will of the Universe/Creator/God].
Yes, that feels better. I went through a phase of sadness and stagnation and understand and appreciate the value and power of renewal. It is hard. Renewal usually comes after a season of loss. Life is a funny dance of holding on and letting go. And such it is with the complexities of my faith.
*I wish I knew the name of the young artist who painted this. She attends a local high school, and I saw this piece at a conference I attended this summer.
I still keep some of my garments. Garments are the "underwear" a Mormon wears after going through the temple for the first time. Occasionally I still wear them. I have a relationship with these pieces of material shaped into symbolic clothing that isn't really unique. They are hot, and they are uncomfortable, but I wore them for a decade, despite being deeply opposed to forced modesty when I think that modesty is and should be an internal characteristic rather than an external one. Garments symbolize much more than modesty, but they become a tool for judgement about hemlines way too often.
With all of that, sometimes I still wear them. And I never minded wearing them to the temple, when I went, as a piece of ceremonial clothing. Somedays I wear them because they are familiar. Other days I wear them because I long for a sort of connection to this world I know so well, but from which I have chosen to separate myself.
Today I wore them. And today the bottoms I was wearing formed two holes. I once heard the story of a gay man who had grown up in the Mormon church making his own garments. After coming out, he could no longer go to the temple nor buy garments. But they were sacred to him. When his last pieces wore out, he decided to make them. I was still attending church services when I heard his story. He wanted so desperately to be part of this thing that he loved, but he couldn't be. I left, in part, for him. For the sum of stories just like his. There are so many stories just like his.
And today I am faced with the fragility of my own garments. Of threadbare connections. Of everything the temple meant and means to me. I am aware of being written off, of others' misplaced fear that I will lead people astray. I've heard all of the stories - of people's concern that my truth affects the truth of others. Sometimes it makes me laugh. I'm "controversial." Other times it breaks my heart. My garments - will I patch them or let them go? I'm not sure.
This evening, after the holes and wondering, I was watching a documentary about Nina Simone. Some of the final words were a quote from Romans 12.
Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.The full context - "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, then you will be able to prove what God's will is - his good, pleasing, and perfect will."
And I fill it out: Do not conform to the pattern of this world [or institution that feels like a world], but be transformed by the renewing of your mind [over and over and over again] [so you can reach out and feel the will of the Universe/Creator/God].
Yes, that feels better. I went through a phase of sadness and stagnation and understand and appreciate the value and power of renewal. It is hard. Renewal usually comes after a season of loss. Life is a funny dance of holding on and letting go. And such it is with the complexities of my faith.
*I wish I knew the name of the young artist who painted this. She attends a local high school, and I saw this piece at a conference I attended this summer.
