Reaction
because you take life in your stride(instead
of scheming how to beat the noblest game
a man can proudly lose,or playing dead
and hoping death himself will do the same
I've been working on this blog for awhile, and I wasn't sure how to approach it. That sounds odd -- after all, if I've been working on it, then obviously I found an approach.
In any case, it didn't sound right to me.
because you aren't afraid to kiss the dirt
(and consequently dare to climb the sky)
because a mind no other mind should try
to fool has always failed to fool your heart
Just recently, however, I started reading some e. e. cummings, and I happened across this poem. Just like that, I had an approach.
You see, what I am about to tell you involves a person that I have a certain admiration for. That's right kid -- I admire you. I've seen what he's gone through in the last year plus and I've been privileged with being fairly close to the action. But one thing I've never had the nerve to do is write about any of it on here. It started as "It's not really my place" (because for awhile there it wasn't) and turned into "Well, what will people think?"
And that's pretty lame.
Those of you who know me very well know I'm not a confrontational person. It's not really a fear of confrontation as it is a full knowledge of my own strengths and weaknesses. I am not a gifted debater. I'm not even an adequate debater. I get tongue-tied in normal conversation, much less heated discussion -- which is perhaps why I'm a fan of the blogging medium. Here, I can organize my thoughts.
I'm done organizing. Now, I'd like to tell you this story, from from an outsider's point of view.
but most(without the smallest doubt)because
no best is quite so good you don't conceive
a better;and because no evil is
so worse than worst you fall in hate with love
--human one mortally immortal i
can turn immense all time's because to why
-e. e. cummings, "because you take life in your stride(instead" (#7 from 95 poems)
Do you ever get the feeling that Something Is Off With The Universe? I do. Every so often, it's too hard to ignore. Last year on my sister's birthday, this happened to me -- the day we got into a car accident in Minneapolis. However, that's not the case I want to tell you about this time. No, this time I'd like to tell you about a Tuesday in November during my (first) senior year of college.
One of my closest friends was coming back to school after some time overseas, and I was psyched. It had been over nine months since I had last seen him and I knew that he'd be full of stories. Besides that, I had just plain missed him. We had become friends early in our freshman year and had been close ever since; the past semester had been missing something, but that wouldn't be the case now.
This sounds a little mushy, but it's important. Trust me on that one.
The day he was going to be back in RC, I woke up with The Feeling. It wasn't quite dread or a sense of tragedy to come -- instead, I just knew that by the end of the day things were going to be different. I didn't know what or who it would concern, but Something Would Happen.
In any case, he rolled into town late that afternoon and my roommate and I were waiting for him. A joyous reunion ensued. Eventually, we settled in and listened to his stories as he flipped through picture after picture on my computer. And ... then he skipped a folder. Odd.
After we had gone through all the rest of them, he went back to the skipped folder. He rambled a bit, warming up to ... something. Then ... "I ... like guys? And I'm sort of dating this guy ..."
Wham.
My roommate described it as though something had hit her square in the face; I felt a cold ring work its way down my entire body, from the top of my head to the ends of my toes. My brain went blank. I think we both blinked at him before turning back to the computer screen. Yup. There was his ... um, boyfriend. What just happened?
All I can say about my behavior for the next half hour or so is that it was strange. I felt like I was sitting across the room, watching myself get more and more baffled,saying, "So, Ashley, what are you going to do next?" I was doing the only thing I was capable of -- watching him, confused. Yes, this was the same guy I had hung out with for the last three years. A little thinner, maybe, a little uncomfortable at the moment, but the same person. He didn't morph in front of my eyes; he was still ... him.
Not long after, we made plans to meet up at Borders and I went to class. That's right -- class. Could I concentrate? Ha! I'm lucky I even remembered what building it was in. Heck, I was lucky I even went. To top things off, we had a test that day, blessedly open-book. That was the only thing that kept me from staring off into space, mumbling to myself.
By the time I got to Borders, I was much calmer. Found them, grabbed his arm, and started walking. "Okay. Start talking."
That night, we talked more openly than we ever had before, and I realized something -- my friend had changed. But ... not in the ways I would have expected. He was more comfortable, more confident, and most importantly, more passionate. Before, I had known him as someone who rarely took a stand, but now he ... cared. It was that simple. And it made all the difference.
The next morning, it hit. One of my best friends was gay. It seemed so elementary, but my world as I knew it was now upside down and orange. It would be melodramatic of me to say that nothing was as it had been, but at that moment that was how things felt. I drifted through my classes that day in a bit of a daze, my brain registering little more than static. At least I had my roommate -- we were both in on the big secret. All the same, I wanted to run away, to just disappear.
You see, I had two voices conflicting in my mind. The first said that this person was a close friend of mine and I wanted nothing more than to support him. The second told me that, as a Christian, I was supposed to behave very differently.
What made it harder was that I had been back from Russia for about four months and everything from that was still fresh. I had thought I was figuring things out, but somehow that day I knew that something was wrong.
Despite my urge to bolt, I offered my ears and mind. He needed a friend and I was going to be it, even if I was uncomfortable and clumsy. And I was both, very consistently. Sometimes I was downright selfish -- this hurt. But it didn't matter; what he was going through was much, much harder. Unfathomable to me, even. My life was easy, even if I couldn't see it.
And so began my intellectual -- and spiritual -- battle.
Before I tell you anything about this, you should know that, over a year later, I still have no idea what's going on. I thought I knew how I would react to this kind of situation, but as it turned out I was uncommonly ignorant. I didn't have the slightest clue. While I'm aware of that now, it doesn't make explaining things any easier. All the same, I want to try.
The main conclusion I've reached -- perhaps the only one -- is that it is far more important for me to love him than judge him. I don't understand why we're so different, but I chose not to see his being gay as a disease or something to be cured. This is the way things are and it is not my job to make him somebody else.
I know this isn't necessarily a popular view, but so be it.
As it turns out, loving someone isn't as hard to do as it initially seems. Think about how much energy goes into judgement: it starts with a thought, which becomes a time-consuming idea, and then an effort, usually to share it. But judgement is the ultimate safety, which makes it quite attractive -- you don't have to be close to someone to follow it.
Loving someone, on the other hand, requires considerable risk. They'll disappoint you, anger you, hurt you, and sometimes it just won't feel worth it. But in the end, it's the only thing that will give you any peace.
But loving someone -- the verb form -- is a choice. And the choice itself isn't as easy as the action. More often than not, I pass up the option, and I know I'm not alone in that. This is one case, however, where I can't decide against it.
I still wrestle with why things are the way they are, and I still get angry. I still don't get what he's going through. The battle is still going, albeit on a much quieter note.
The catch? I'm okay with that. The fact that I'm still reacting tells me that there's still something at work.
Some days that's all I can ask for.
of scheming how to beat the noblest game
a man can proudly lose,or playing dead
and hoping death himself will do the same
I've been working on this blog for awhile, and I wasn't sure how to approach it. That sounds odd -- after all, if I've been working on it, then obviously I found an approach.
In any case, it didn't sound right to me.
because you aren't afraid to kiss the dirt
(and consequently dare to climb the sky)
because a mind no other mind should try
to fool has always failed to fool your heart
Just recently, however, I started reading some e. e. cummings, and I happened across this poem. Just like that, I had an approach.
You see, what I am about to tell you involves a person that I have a certain admiration for. That's right kid -- I admire you. I've seen what he's gone through in the last year plus and I've been privileged with being fairly close to the action. But one thing I've never had the nerve to do is write about any of it on here. It started as "It's not really my place" (because for awhile there it wasn't) and turned into "Well, what will people think?"
And that's pretty lame.
Those of you who know me very well know I'm not a confrontational person. It's not really a fear of confrontation as it is a full knowledge of my own strengths and weaknesses. I am not a gifted debater. I'm not even an adequate debater. I get tongue-tied in normal conversation, much less heated discussion -- which is perhaps why I'm a fan of the blogging medium. Here, I can organize my thoughts.
I'm done organizing. Now, I'd like to tell you this story, from from an outsider's point of view.
but most(without the smallest doubt)because
no best is quite so good you don't conceive
a better;and because no evil is
so worse than worst you fall in hate with love
--human one mortally immortal i
can turn immense all time's because to why
-e. e. cummings, "because you take life in your stride(instead" (#7 from 95 poems)
Do you ever get the feeling that Something Is Off With The Universe? I do. Every so often, it's too hard to ignore. Last year on my sister's birthday, this happened to me -- the day we got into a car accident in Minneapolis. However, that's not the case I want to tell you about this time. No, this time I'd like to tell you about a Tuesday in November during my (first) senior year of college.
One of my closest friends was coming back to school after some time overseas, and I was psyched. It had been over nine months since I had last seen him and I knew that he'd be full of stories. Besides that, I had just plain missed him. We had become friends early in our freshman year and had been close ever since; the past semester had been missing something, but that wouldn't be the case now.
This sounds a little mushy, but it's important. Trust me on that one.
The day he was going to be back in RC, I woke up with The Feeling. It wasn't quite dread or a sense of tragedy to come -- instead, I just knew that by the end of the day things were going to be different. I didn't know what or who it would concern, but Something Would Happen.
In any case, he rolled into town late that afternoon and my roommate and I were waiting for him. A joyous reunion ensued. Eventually, we settled in and listened to his stories as he flipped through picture after picture on my computer. And ... then he skipped a folder. Odd.
After we had gone through all the rest of them, he went back to the skipped folder. He rambled a bit, warming up to ... something. Then ... "I ... like guys? And I'm sort of dating this guy ..."
Wham.
My roommate described it as though something had hit her square in the face; I felt a cold ring work its way down my entire body, from the top of my head to the ends of my toes. My brain went blank. I think we both blinked at him before turning back to the computer screen. Yup. There was his ... um, boyfriend. What just happened?
All I can say about my behavior for the next half hour or so is that it was strange. I felt like I was sitting across the room, watching myself get more and more baffled,saying, "So, Ashley, what are you going to do next?" I was doing the only thing I was capable of -- watching him, confused. Yes, this was the same guy I had hung out with for the last three years. A little thinner, maybe, a little uncomfortable at the moment, but the same person. He didn't morph in front of my eyes; he was still ... him.
Not long after, we made plans to meet up at Borders and I went to class. That's right -- class. Could I concentrate? Ha! I'm lucky I even remembered what building it was in. Heck, I was lucky I even went. To top things off, we had a test that day, blessedly open-book. That was the only thing that kept me from staring off into space, mumbling to myself.
By the time I got to Borders, I was much calmer. Found them, grabbed his arm, and started walking. "Okay. Start talking."
That night, we talked more openly than we ever had before, and I realized something -- my friend had changed. But ... not in the ways I would have expected. He was more comfortable, more confident, and most importantly, more passionate. Before, I had known him as someone who rarely took a stand, but now he ... cared. It was that simple. And it made all the difference.
The next morning, it hit. One of my best friends was gay. It seemed so elementary, but my world as I knew it was now upside down and orange. It would be melodramatic of me to say that nothing was as it had been, but at that moment that was how things felt. I drifted through my classes that day in a bit of a daze, my brain registering little more than static. At least I had my roommate -- we were both in on the big secret. All the same, I wanted to run away, to just disappear.
You see, I had two voices conflicting in my mind. The first said that this person was a close friend of mine and I wanted nothing more than to support him. The second told me that, as a Christian, I was supposed to behave very differently.
What made it harder was that I had been back from Russia for about four months and everything from that was still fresh. I had thought I was figuring things out, but somehow that day I knew that something was wrong.
Despite my urge to bolt, I offered my ears and mind. He needed a friend and I was going to be it, even if I was uncomfortable and clumsy. And I was both, very consistently. Sometimes I was downright selfish -- this hurt. But it didn't matter; what he was going through was much, much harder. Unfathomable to me, even. My life was easy, even if I couldn't see it.
And so began my intellectual -- and spiritual -- battle.
Before I tell you anything about this, you should know that, over a year later, I still have no idea what's going on. I thought I knew how I would react to this kind of situation, but as it turned out I was uncommonly ignorant. I didn't have the slightest clue. While I'm aware of that now, it doesn't make explaining things any easier. All the same, I want to try.
The main conclusion I've reached -- perhaps the only one -- is that it is far more important for me to love him than judge him. I don't understand why we're so different, but I chose not to see his being gay as a disease or something to be cured. This is the way things are and it is not my job to make him somebody else.
I know this isn't necessarily a popular view, but so be it.
As it turns out, loving someone isn't as hard to do as it initially seems. Think about how much energy goes into judgement: it starts with a thought, which becomes a time-consuming idea, and then an effort, usually to share it. But judgement is the ultimate safety, which makes it quite attractive -- you don't have to be close to someone to follow it.
Loving someone, on the other hand, requires considerable risk. They'll disappoint you, anger you, hurt you, and sometimes it just won't feel worth it. But in the end, it's the only thing that will give you any peace.
But loving someone -- the verb form -- is a choice. And the choice itself isn't as easy as the action. More often than not, I pass up the option, and I know I'm not alone in that. This is one case, however, where I can't decide against it.
I still wrestle with why things are the way they are, and I still get angry. I still don't get what he's going through. The battle is still going, albeit on a much quieter note.
The catch? I'm okay with that. The fact that I'm still reacting tells me that there's still something at work.
Some days that's all I can ask for.
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