As I sit on the front porch of the home I grew up in on this spectacularly beautiful Fall Sunday morning, I’m overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude. So much stillness so much peace. I feel like I’m in an extended Sivasana. Nothing to do, but absorb. No plans, no goals, nowhere to be, nowhere to go. Just to sit and enjoy the sights and sounds of the morning.
Home. A place of refuge. A place to recharge, a place to plug in to stillness. A place to hear and feel my breath, to hear and feel the breath of nature. To touch peace. To feel the lifting of my life stuff, and imagine it dissolving into the fog floating above the motionless lake in front of the house. A moment of presence, a moment of now. A moment of perfection. Mmmmm.
Then, a Buddhist thought comes to mind. Offer this moment of perfection, Offer your mandala. Offer it to those who only dream of peaceful presence. To those whose “now” is a far cry from yours. I think about all those gay teens who will never know this, who didn’t give life enough time to get to this moment.
I know for me, there were many times as a teenager, sitting in this very spot where what appears to be a Pure Land for me now, only appeared like Hell at that time. Struggling with my newly emerging feelings toward men, that I didn’t understand and prayed would somehow go away. Feeling despondent and hopelessly trapped in this seemingly insurmountable conflict with my religious upbringing. How, why? All the self hatred, and confusion left little room for hope or peace. I don’t think I ever contemplated suicide, but I certainly felt like I was dying inside. I felt like a freak and I vowed to do everything in my power to be different and to feel differently. To fit in, to be loved. Fortunately I was able to fit in, externally anyway. But on the inside I was in agony.
The thought of someone telling me “it gets better” would have been amazing. It would have saved years of self loathing, years of searching for comfort, for relief, from the agonizing, unending inner conflict. Just someone to say, you’re perfect just the way you are. God didn’t make a mistake, you’re not a freak. It’s OK to feel what you feel, to love who you love. It’s all OK. Now let it go, move on, and live out your dreams.
I wished I would have heard that then. But better late than never, because I certainly hear it, and experience it now. It’s been an arduous and painful journey at times. But yes, IT GETS BETTER. I’ve taken on a variety of roles in the past 50 years. A preachers kid, a missionary, a party boy, an activist, a Buddhist, a yogi. All amazing roles, all so vitally important in weaving together the fabric that I see today sitting on this porch. I’m fortunate that I’ve had a loving family throughout this journey. They haven’t always, and probably never will, understand me. But they never kicked me out, and they never stopped loving me. For that, I am most grateful. Many of my gay brothers and sisters in the South are not so lucky.
So for them, and the countless others, we say, it gets better. It gets better because we love you. We believe in you, in your inherent goodness, in your perfection, in your fabulous gayness.
We’re out, we’re visible, we’re living our dreams. We’re here to help. We’re here to support.
We are your Role Models.
So hang in there because indeed, IT GETS BETTER.
