My Life has become a research project.
Archive for the ‘Love’ Category
My Life has become a research project.
Who is this girl
and how did she come into my life?
I don’t know, but when I’m in my lowest low I can feel her skin against me. In the lowest of my valleys, in the darkest of my times it’s like She’s God to me… holding me close and letting me know I’m loved. In the darkest shadows with nothing else there, she’s there. Who is she? And how did she make it here? I don’t know, but I don’t know where I’d be without her.
How did I come to love her? Who is this girl, and how did I come to love her?
I don’t know, and sometimes I feel bad for chasing after her, but I was struck and pulled… somehow she got a hook in me and she was beautiful, and I didn’t know who she was but I wanted to know… I wanted to look into her and know her.
God, who is she?
But I look into her now and I know her. We’re both scared now and sometimes, but sometimes… aside from the pain and our foolish careless bumbling youth, I see her… I see her… I told her she was beautiful in the dark and she said, “but it’s dark!” and I hushed her and said, “shhh… I see you. And you are beautiful…”
God, who is she?
I love her so much and sometimes I wonder if I keep on asking myself these questions because I’ll never really have the answers, I’ll never really have the words to describe her, the words to explain who she is, deep down. I’m learning to write volumes on it now, in my head, but it’s because I know her, and I want to know her, and for some god-unknown mysterious reason she is the direction of the universe I want to know everything about.
Wow…
Why?
I know my voice isn't the best, but the fact that I'm composing and singing on video is pretty amazing.
I wrote this last week when I was freaking out about my sexual orientation lecture… I didn't feel prepared, and I didn't feel good enough, and, and, and…. This is what came out.
To all of you who struggle with the same, with standing tall, here are my words for you.
Butterflies are not so much about love as about surprise. Will she? What if? Does she? Really? What if?
I got butterflies today when she gave me a sneaky unexpected I love you! I was taken off guard and I almost forgot to speak for a moment.
I hadn’t goten butterflies in a while. It’s more like a full-body wag, like my soul and my insides and my tail and my ears wag with joy and excitement and anticipation when I get something from her. She does that to me a lot. A lot. more than she knows, I think.
Butterflies are that “Oh no! Does she like me? really? REALLY REALLY?” Butterflies are that “Oh! Be still my fleeting heart! I think I’m in love!” moments. It’s not that serious but it’s the unknown and the promise of love like you hadn’t felt before.
I got butterflies a lot before, and not as much now. It’s more comfortable now, more known now — but I like the butterflies. I like changing things up where she has me fawning over her with a fluttering heart. I like being her dumb-struck loverboy.
Making love is tender, intimate. Even with quick motions, it is an experience of being deeply tied to the other person, tethered to their desires and tethered to their self.
Making Love is something only people who are deeply connected can do. it is a love passing deeply through the parts of us that go on forever, and when you make love, you connect and tie and become one with the forever of another person, their soul, the beautiful part of them that simply is, which hides not a thing at all… which is shining clear, and bright, and unique.
“Making love” is called making love because when you see a person that clearly, that crystal, when you see that part of them, you can’t help but love them.
This is so special, because it is so incredibly rare.
None, not even ourselves, regularly see the purist, most perfect of ourselves. We hide behind our mistakes and lies, we hide behind the faces we put on at work and home and around friends and in our hobbies. GBut when you make love, those faces are not there, the othe rperson sees deeply through you, they see the precisely pure, beautiful, thriving glowing pulsing vibrant soul that you are… and sometimes, you see it too. Sometimes you see in their eyes the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen and you’re floored and struck and moved and your heart calls out to them and you wrap your innermost heart around them in the black forever that is making love, and you see and feel it come back to you. Sometimes you feel it come reeling back at you and all the glory of their light wraps around you and spins you and makes you dizzy, and sometimes you come to and you see yourself glowing with the same beautiful light that consumed your senses about them and you realize…
…you realize that they are looking at you with the same beauty you feel for them in that moment and that you… you are as beautiful as you feel their light. Sometimes you realize that you are as beautiful as they.
Making lvoe is so intimate that few can experience it. Few of us are able to expose our most honest, naked souls to anyone other than the one whom we most deeply trust.
This is why it is so special, and so beautiful.
Making love is the kiss, the touch, the lips on your skin, the motions of the body that, against you, cry out with every inch that they love you more than their heart could ever express in the deepest, most powerful of human expressions.
Making Love is God-like.
Making love takes you to a place that created the universe.
Making love is in the same moment the force that is life and the force thatcreates life. Making love is everything that we could ever be in one moment, it is a glimpse into the everything, and we can only reach that view of the universe from the arms of another, from combining with another, from looking through and caring absolutely for another soul in forever; through becoming one.
Through making love.
I don’t know you, but I love you.
I don’t know who you are, or where you live. I don’t know what you’re good at; I don’t know your hobbies; I don’t know your aches or pains. I may never see your face.
But I love you.
I know you hurt. I know you love, or have loved at some point in your life. I know that you want to feel wanted, and appreciated. I know that you appreciate good weather and I know that, sometimes, you look at the stars and feel a sense of wonder, like me.
I love you.
I want what’s best for you.
I want you to smile with the sunshine on your face.
I want you to live your life and know that, even at the worst of times, someone out there loves you.
I may never know your name, but I would hold you when you cry, if I could.
I don’t have much to give. I can’t be there at every moment.
But this is what I can do.
I can write and create and perform.
I can pour my soul out and hope that for someone out there, it makes a difference.
I know that my difference is just one tiny drop in the tides of our time. When I think of the problems of this world I get swallowed up by their power.
But for you, whoever you are, this is why I do this. So that someday, you can know that someone out there, me, loves you and wants you to be happy.
I’m terrified to love, but it’s all I have. I hope it makes a difference.
It’s hard. It’s really hard.
“How do you feel about homosexuality? Well I believe what the Bible says.” With the presumption that it says it’s wrong.
But it doesn’t. It doesn’t say it’s wrong.
It hurts when someone says you’re wrong. “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” But why do you believe it’s a sin? Because you’ve been told. Because it’s been translated and taught in a way that makes the whole act a sin.
“You can love someone but you can never expres your love sexually. That would be a sin.”
How is that? What is that like to be told that? You love someone with the same depth and breadth and intimacy as a heterosexual pairing but to ever touch them in a sexual way would be a sin… while the heterosexual consummation of the same love is sanctioned by God.
There are some who will argue on and on and on about what the texts of the Bible actually mean; I just wish I could show someone — ideally after converting them — the hurt and the pain and the frustration and the anger and the shame and the myriad of damaging emotions that are created by the promotion of the belief that homosexuality is wrong.
A challenge of faith. A crisis of faith that few make it through in their lifetimes. I felt the pain of this debate before I understood that I myself was queer and when I think it I feel the pain of all those around me and before me and I just wish I could make it stop. I wish I could end the people’s pain and I wish I could heal the people’s hurting and I wish I could just turn off the blows that continue falling as the generations continue crawling on.
Life as a rejected people. Life as a group of people scattered across the world and communities and time, as a group of people condemned by a global dogma that says the nature of your love is a sin.
That says the way you know how to love is wrong.
It doesn’t matter how much support you have. It doesn’t matter how much someone says you were “Born This Way” and they — and God — love you just the way you are. You live with the knowledge that your mother or your brother or your grandma or your pastor or your elementary school teacher or your banker… think you’re wrong. You live with the knowledge that they believe and preach and teach that every time you extend a loving touch to your partner that you are doing something wrong.
How does that feel?
They live a life where they can show in marriage the loving touches and caresses and kisses and the knowledge that they share a bed – a sexual bed – together with their family and friends, they can be proud of their love and show it off in an approved way. In parties, in weddings, in church at family reunions.
And what about the rest of us?
When your heart is filled with joy and you are met with sneers and curses? When the family that was supposed to support you no matter what would rather you be alone than share your love at all?
Queer people don’t know how to be straight. Even if they can be in a happy heterosexual marriage, there is still the knowledge that their loved ones reject part of how they know how to love.
What is it like going through life being told that your love and your capacity for love is wrong?
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”