The responses

Honestly I am surprised at how many people have contacted me as a result of my youtube offering. Suddenly people are pouring out their stories and their experiences to me like I have known them for years. It has been a truly humbling experience to hear what so many young men have been through on their journey as gay children of our Heavenly Father. Several people have also taken the time to write and share their disapproval of my testimonial. I have had a few people tell me that I am using voice for evil and not for good-- and I even had a comment recently tell me that I should make a nude video. Maybe I will-- maybe not.

Every time I get a response, I feel quite affected by it. When people write to thank me, I feel sincerely humbled and grateful that what I have to say struck a chord with someone else. When someone writes to tell me that I am doing harm, I feel genuinely hurt and sometimes a little confused. I am not impenetrable by any means, and I think I make my humanity glaringly obvious. Though it is hard to have others vehemently oppose my hard earned self awareness, I think its a really important part of sharing. Just because I have come to what I feel is a beautiful sense of peace and self-acceptance, that doesn't mean that others will feel that my peace is their peace. As zealous as I am about gay men and women having a full and happy life with a same-sex partner if they choose to, there are others who are perhaps more zealous about my reality being a false one (and this isn't my nose it's a false one!! anyone know that quote??).

The good thing about my current stance is this: For myself, I left no leaf unturned on the path that I have traveled. While I was in the church, I truly gave it my all to try to find a way to make myself feel whole and complete within that paradigm. Of course those that disapprove of my current position will always be able to say, "you didn't try hard enough Clark." Be that as it may, I know I did try hard enough. That is why, though it isn't easy to face the words of people who don't like what I've chosen to do, nevertheless I feel fully equipped to do so. As I simmer and stew on the words of others, both the words of support and the words of disapproval, I always come back to my center in a short time. I realize that I know what I know, and I can't deny what I know.



Overall its been enriching and quickening having openly expressed myself. I hope that anyone who can benefit from this blog and others like it will be guided to find it. I truly hope that people who are slowly accepting the invitation to die will reconsider and instead accept the invitation that is likewise extended: the invitation to fully live.

The Entire Video Blog

I have just decided to post this in its entirety. I know its a lot (60 minutes) but its in 10 minute chunks. If you are interested, dive in. It might be fun for you. Or not. :)

My video blog

Some of you may have seen my video blog that I have been posting on youtube for the past month or so. This is the final installment!

No to Soul Chemo

Do you know what happens when a person gets cancer? In some cases of early detection, the malignant tumor may be removed before it has spread. If the tumor was indeed isolated and discreet, this may be the end of that person's battle with cancer. Sometimes there are clusters of tumors, all malignant, but perhaps localized, and thus again there is a possibility of removing them and keeping the cancer from spreading throughout the body. Sometimes cancer seems to be gone, but then another tumor appears, and again we remove it and hope for the best. But then, there are cases where the cancer has spread into the lymph nodes, and then eventually the whole body is filled with cancer. In most cases certain genes have mutated and instead of creating healthy whole cells, they code for production of cancerous cells. After cancer has spread throughout the body, there is not much that doctors can do. They often give the person afflicted with cancer a certain amount of time to live.

One way of fighting cancer at this advanced stage is chemotherapy. "Chemo" is basically injection of dangerous chemicals that primarily attack rapidly dividing cells. Oncogenes (mutated genes that cause cancer) code for such cells, and thus chemo chemicals attacks them. However, the genes that code for hair growth and intestinal lining are similar. In other words, chemo takes certain systems in your body to within an inch of death with the hope that in killing almost everything, you kill a lot of the cancerous cells. Of course it stands to reason that you will also kill healthy cells in the process. Your hair will fall out and your stomach and intestinal lining will be obliterated. Some individuals even have a port (shunt) put into their bodies: basically an opening where the chemo can be dumped in directly, often in agressive doses. In the film "Wit" Emma Thompson's character is undergoing intense chemotherapy and radiation and therefore she has literally no immune system. She is placed in complete isolation, almost even from her doctors. This is to protect her from simple opportunistic colds or flus, which in her weakened state would kill her. At one point she muses, "I'm not isolated because I have cancer. I'm isolated because I am being treated for cancer." People who are being treated for cancer in this way often seem to be on the brink of death. Well, thats the point. We are almost killing them hoping to get rid of the bad stuff inside. At the same time we hope enough of the good can survive.

If you have ever watched period films, you might have seen doctors treating patients in a similar way when they fall victim to some serious malady. A medical practice called bloodletting existed from antiquity all the way into the late 19th century. The idea was the same: bringing the person even closer to death in hopes that enough of the bad blood would come out to allow the infirm person to recover. Again, good blood was also seeping mercilessly out, but again thats collateral damage.

Many men and women today react to their homosexuality in a similar way to someone being diagnosed with cancer. We have been told directly and indirectly that homosexuality is akin to murder in its seriousness, and that it is a spiritual killer. The church needs to watch out for feminists, intellectuals and homosexuals. Homosexuality is an aberration, a veritable spiritual cancer. In fact when repressed, I see homosexuality as often having a cancerous effect. The more you try to ignore it, the more powerful it becomes. Ignoring cancer will get you killed. Ignoring your homosexuality can make you feel so out of touch with yourself that you no longer feel like a person at all. That's why we are all here now blogging. Even those that are married and fully devoted to the church are making a point of reaching out to this online blogger community so that they can have some contact. We have to admit it. We are gay. Or if you prefer to follow the ambiguous and reductionist vernacular of many anti-gay groups, we have SSA. Gay would mean that we can't do anything about it. And that's wrong. We can change, right?

The big lie that I want to decry is this: homosexuality is a spiritual cancer. That is a lie. I'll tell you what is cancerous-- being treated for homosexuality. Like Emma Thompson in Wit.. we are not isolated and confused because we are attracted to people of the same gender. We are isolated and confused because we are trying to not be attracted to people of the same gender. Cancer will eventually kill your body. Homosexuality will not kill your spirit. If allowed to flourish, cancer will put you in a coffin. If allowed to flourish, homosexuality continues to be exactly what it always was: the emotional and physical desire to couple with a person of your same gender. Nothing less, nothing more.

I have spent 30 years believing that "giving in to my homosexuality" would lead to my spiritual death. I believed that if I did not take an active effort in trying to control the spread of my homosexuality to all areas of my life, that it would literally kill my spirit. As I got closer and closer to the edge, as I became that frog cooking ever so slowly in warming water, as I gradually became "past feeling", as I (insert your favorite fear tactic here), I became terrified of what I would lose when I did fall over the cliff and become that boiled frog and become that past feeling ex-nephite who was now a son of perdition.

Reader, I want to share something with you. I fell. I boiled. I changed. I can't believe what I found. My spirit is alive and thriving. I am whole. I am grateful. I am humble before God. I'm spiritually quickened. I'm connected to the Savior! What I was so afraid of losing was my connection to the Savior. I'm shocked. I thought I would have to choose one or the other. Gay or Mormon. That is true in a way. I guess I really can't be fully Mormon anymore. I'm not allowed to be with a man in any way (even in a legal and lawful union) and still be temple worthy. But what I realize now is that my connection to mormonism was mostly a need to feel connected to the Savior. And I feel Him in my heart in this very moment. I finally decided that I am not going to be a celibate gay mormon. I'm going to be me. I'm not even sure what that is yet, but I know what it's not. I will not be marginalized. I will not be celibate. I will be respected. I will be heard. I will be loved.

All sexuality is a gift. Homosexuality is beautiful. I hope that each of us will look inside and see beauty, not cancer. I pray that none of us will bring ourselves to the brink of death or beyond in the hope of killing his/her homosexuality. We are so beautiful. When will we learn to stop destroying ourselves? I hope that day is today. Today is our day of life.

FROM THE PULPIT

FICTIONAL SCENARIO #2: An average white man stands up and slowly edges out of his pew during fast and testimony meeting. He smiles as he passes the rows on the way up to the pulpit. He clears his throat, looks out at a young woman in the audience, smiles and then begins to speak. "Good morning brothers and sisters. I've come before you today to share something really important to me. About 8 months ago I left the church. I moved out of my apartment and started living with my girlfriend. I just came here today to tell you how happy I am! Alma tells us that wickedness never was happiness. I guess if that is true than living with my girlfriend is not wicked. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."

QUELL THE WHITE NOISE AND LISTEN AT LAST

I found myself completely awestruck by what I was hearing. My best friend from college was saying words that I had so longed to hear for nearly a decade: you have the most amazing nail beds.. JUST KIDDING. He called me yesterday just to share some of the things that were going on in his mind. He said something like: for the first time in my life I find myself not worrying about the future. In some ways I have this feeling that my life is over.

Take that at face value and it might be a little bit confusing. He is saying he is not worrying about the future-- most of us would agree that is GREAT, but then he feels his life is over-- thats NOT GREAT. Or wait a moment.. is it?

My friend is someone who can do everything. He is handsome and winsome and takes everything he attempts to do by storm. In college everyone was a victim of his talent and brilliance. Let's call him Dr. Doolittle. Not because he talks to the animals mind you, although he probably could if he tried. A month after joining the vocal performance major, the faculty would call him into an office to say things like: you know we have about 150 full time students in this program. Of those 150 students, we think about 3-5 have a chance to actually make it in the opera world. We want you to know that you are one of those 3-5 students. You have just joined the major, but we feel so strongly about your potential. My friend would walk away feeling satisfied and happy that he received such validation from these renowned professors, but he also started to feel nervous. Do I really want to be an opera singer? Now that they love me so much what are they going to expect of me??

Inevitably my friend would spend the rest of the semester showing up late for rehearsals and classes, perhaps arrive a little unprepared with his german aria, and in whatever other way he could, he would try to dissapate the pressure by disappointing the faculty as much as he could. He did all of this largely subconsciously. When they stopped caring about his progress, he would change majors. Take the above scenario, and transfer it to the new major he chooses: Graphic design. There is a new star in the program people would soon say, but just as suddenly that star would begin to fade, or at least move out of view. Then English, then Russian, then Classics.. and on and on it went.

I would stay up late talking about the future with my friend, as college students are known to do. Over the years I probably had over 20 conversations with him about his career, and what he wanted out of life. I began to see his talent as a handicap in some ways. If this guy could only do one thing well he wouldn't be able to bounce about so. He would have to focus because there would be no choice. (OMG Satan's Plan?!?) My other friends and I would often discuss him and say things like-- this is a bigger issue than just career. This guy does not know how to be happy! Every time things start to go well for him, he sabotages the chance to be happy for some reason unknown to even himself.

My recent ex was very similar in many ways. The minute we resolved one problem that seemed like the ultimate crisis, another equal or greater crisis would arise in its place. After about a year of living in total crisis mode, I started to check out of the relationship. I started to feel like my boyfriend was creating problems because he didn't know how to feel like a whole person without a struggle. There was always so much white noise going on in his life. Sounds created only to create noise-- with no message: only a wall of sound. I would often talk to him about this hypothesis and he usually fervently disagreed with my diagnosis and for pity's sake would I stop psychoanalyzing him. Sometimes I stopped.

Imagine the reaction of all of our friends when Dr. Doolittle came forward with his newest career du jour: medicine. After already finishing nearly 3 majors at BYU, having a degree in Russian, and being accepted to NYU in the Russian Literature Masters program, he would go back to undergrad for 2 years to do the medical prerequisites. He would then most likely have to wait another year and apply for schools. Everyone said-- oh here he goes again. Another career-- more white noise to drown out the voices. Something inside me said that this was different. This is actually what he had always wanted to do but was too scared to try. Something from within him was trying to quell the white noise.

My friend is now in his third year of medical school. He is doing a pediatrics rotation currently. He did his 2 years of prereqs, took the MCAT, got an amazing score, waited a year to apply and was accepted to an amazing school: all to the chagrin of the white noise. What would happen to his life without the constant stress of a new career and an unsettled spirit?

When the white noise stops, what DO we hear instead? What is it that we have been drowning out? My friend told me yesterday that he had been thinking a lot about his Jr. High and High School years. He said that he was thinking back to those times when he had no self esteem whatsoever, and he found himself reliving small seemingly insignificant disappointments from his past. Little things like a passing comment to a teacher that had been taken in the wrong way which caused him a lot of shame during his whole senior year. Or like answering a certain question wrong on a test and getting a lower letter grade that semester. What do these vague memories from the past hold within their sordid narrations? What started the white noise? And why is it suddenly gone?

Is his life over because the white noise has become obsolete for him? In a way yes. His life of finding meaning only through unhappy struggle and confusion seems to be over indeed. But maybe you, gentle reader, will not see this as a positive occurance. Maybe he won't be so driven to spend what little free time he has volunteering. Or maybe he won't learn a new language this year. Maybe he won't call his mother as much as she would like him to. Maybe suddenly having more self esteem makes him a less productive individual. One thing is for sure though: a new person seems to be emerging. It looks like a happier person. It looks like a more peaceful person. It looks like our Doctor is more capable of loving.


Regardless of what it is we don't want to hear, the white noise is not the enemy. I think it protects us from things we are not ready to face, and that is why it exists. It is my conviction that one day we will all be perfected. Slowly the universe, GOD, or the collective consciousness all draw us toward perfection. Even our defense mechanisms are our temporary friends. But as with Dr. Doolittle, there comes a day when they are no longer needed, and like scales from our eyes they shall fall away. We are already reborn.

THAT MAN IS ME

FICTIONAL SCENARIO:
A man stands up in front of a room full of his peers, one onlooker coughs, then another. A 9 month old toddler crawls away from her father who is holding a blow up book with pictures of Jesus inside-- the father bends over at the waist to avoid making a stir and goes after the crawling child. A woman with white hair clears her throat and swallows loudly. The man standing before them speaks.
"Good morning brothers and sisters. I stand before you today, humbled to be in your presence. I feel so unworthy to stand before you today. I just love and admire you all so much even though I don't really know many of you yet. Thank you so much for being so welcoming to my family and me in the short time since we moved here. When the bishop called me, I knew it was to give a talk, so I screened that call.. (nervous chuckle from the audience). But of course I decided to call him back, and that's why I stand before you today. I spent all week working late, so I didn't really have a chance to prepare this talk, so BEAR WITH ME."

BEAR WITH YOU???? Are you for real? You mean that I have to sit here and give you my undivided attention with an opener like that? Gag me with a spoon. How am I supposed to engage in what you are telling me when you have clearly told me that you are not only unprepared for this oration, but beyond that you are unworthy to stand before me. What? You are not!

It reminds me of Pride and Prejudice when Darcy proposes to Elizabeth Bennet the first time. He tells her basically that he has struggled in vain but it is no good, his feelings will not be repressed. He asks her to marry him telling her that while he does this he also realizes that proposing to her is most decidedly against the wishes of his family, friends and last but not least against his own better judgement. In her reprimand she asks him how this proposal could ever induce her to marry him. How could you possibly expect me to accept you when you told me that you were asking me against your own better judgement?? How can I care to listen to anyone who says BEAR WITH ME?

Peoples of the blogger community, I'm just going to come right out and say it-- I can tarry no longer: BEAR WITH ME: I am a really bad blogger.

WOW! I can't belive how relieved I feel. Having that out in the open is just an amazing feeling. I could have waited until national coming out day.. which is coming up all you closets out there.. but I think now is the time to get this all out in the open.

Elbow is a close friend and cohort of mine, and he encouraged me to write a blog. I love elbow with every fiber of my being, so I of course agreed. He told me that he thinks I have a lot to say that would be interesting to people. But here I am, a bad blogger with a head full of ideas. So starting from right now I am setting a completely different intention for myself, as Clark the blogger. I'm going to give myself full permission to be a stream of consciousness blogger. Where are all my stream of consciousness bloggers-- where are the ward members who give stream of consciousness talks-- lemme hear you say HEY (HEY echo). BORING TALKS IN THE MOTHER FRIKKIN HOUSE!!! I feel like if I don't have the pressure of being totally focused every time I write, then the chance of me being a good blogger, or at least a prolific one, will be much greater. Yeah, so basically I am giving the world full permission to completely ignore my blog because I have started it with the universal turn off: BEAR WITH ME. I am unworthy to write this blog. Who says these kind of things? I do apparently. THAT MAN.. IS ME.

That little stream of consciousness inside me breaks forth into a joyous refrain: I'm small I know but wherever I go the grass grows greener still. Singing singing all the day, give away oh give away. Singing, singing...

The Bishop Made Me Do It

Those of you who read Elbow's blog may have already read this entry. He posted it as a guest entry on his blog today. Its my coming out to my parents story...

I sat in my empty house in Houston, TX shuffling through the white pages of the phone book. My dad was at work and my 6 siblings and my mom were all out of town on summer break. I was an 18 year-old pre-BYU student at the time; working at Dominos Pizza to save money for college. I was searching under the letter G for gay.

Gaylord, Gaynor.. wow. This is really ridiculous. Do I really think that I am going to find the words gay club………….713-come-out? Still I searched. What about H for homosexual.. hmm lets see. As I scanned the page something caught my eye. HATCH. That is all it said.

“You’ve reached the Houston Area Teen Coalition for Homosexuals. If you are interested in attending a meeting or speaking to someone please leave your name and phone number after the tone.”

The following day a man’s voice asked for Clark. “So, are you gay?” the man asked after some BRT’ing. A chaotic pause. “Yes,” I mustered. I had never met anyone who identified as gay before, and I was so stunned that a real actual gay person was talking to me on the phone.

My only other experience talking to a gay person on the phone was my version of phone sex. I was 16 years old and somehow had found a phone sex line that was not a 1-900 number but it was a long distance to somewhere in Indiana. I was like.. wow they must really have it going on in Indiana! Anyway, I just hoped my parents wouldn’t see the charges even though I was calling frequently asking men what it was like to be gay, and trying to figure out if I was gay. It was really hard to find someone who really wanted to talk, but occasionally I would find someone who was willing to talk to me. I remember feeling confused because I would ask these men if they were gay and many of them would say no. Eventually (of course) my parents found out, and that is a whole saga in itself. But I digress.

I attended my first HATCH meeting on a Sunday. I felt severely guilty about it. I remember attending church with my dad and then making some excuse as to where I was going that night. I felt at the time that going to a gay meeting on the Sabbath was far worse than gathering manna would have been for the Israelites, but on the other hand, my gay ox was definitely in the mire.

I still hadn’t officially told anyone in Houston that I was gay. Several months earlier I had had this moment where I stared into the mirror in my bathroom and looked deeply into my own eyes and said, “I’m gay.” I realized at the time that what I was doing was a little cheesy and overdramatic but I felt in that moment that it was warranted. I guess it could have always been more so.. I mean, I could have turned on “Close Every Door” from Joseph in the background, or worse yet, “I Will Survive.” So don’t judge.

I won’t share all the sordid details of my first gay “kiss” with someone from the group. (basically getting a tongue plunged into my adenoids after watching “Funny Girl” for the first time) But after a while I started hanging out with another guy in the group who was about my same age. We spent a lot of time together and our relationship was very sexually charged. One Sunday I attended a non-denominational church with him and his extremely homo-aware but homophobic mother. Later that day I took him to church with me. Over the sacrament hymn, the bishop eyed me in that “I totally have the gift of discernment right now” look. I stared back as if to say, “I’m ok with that.” After the meeting the ward clerk told me the bishop wanted to have a brief interview with me that evening. I obliged.

“Clark, how are you doing with masturbation?” the bishop asked. I had actually never really spoken to him about this issue, but ironically since I had started spending time with my new friend I had not really felt any need to masturbate. I told him that I was doing really well with it. He continued that he only asked because sometimes masturbation can lead to other sins: mutual masturbation and then even more serious acts, such as homosexuality. “Are you serious?” I dubiously inquired. “Do you really think that masturbation can actually cause homosexuality?” By this time I had already read SW Kimball’s Crime Against Nature chapter of The Miracle of Forgiveness, so I was well versed with this developmental theory. The bishop seemed a little thrown off balance by my response. He cautiously asked me if I disagreed with that idea. Hmm. Should I try to present a more truthful view of homosexuality to this kind man who has the best intentions for me (by telling him I know I am gay), or should I shrug off the topic and go my merry way? “Yes I disagree with that idea,” I finally blurted out. “I know masturbation doesn’t cause homosexuality because I realized I was gay long before I ever masturbated.” Now he seemed even more shocked. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so forthright or so self-aware for that matter.

In short order I told him about my involvement in HATCH, my necking and petting with my new male friend, and everything else I had been hiding about my sexuality. I even told him about my first sexual experience a year earlier in a mall bathroom. It felt really good to share all these things with this good man, although he seemed very heavy as the details of my late adolescence poured out. His suggestions seemed normal to me: separate myself from my gay friend, don’t attend any more meetings, and prepare for my time at BYU. He told me that he had no wish to withdraw my ecclesiastical endorsement; he felt that I needed to attend BYU. But he did tell me that the things in which I was participating were serious and could keep me from attending BYU. His only other question was this: “When are you going to tell your parents?” I told him that I had no plan to break my parents’ hearts as I was sort of the golden boy in the family at that point. I told him I didn’t want to do that to them. He looked at me squarely. “As your priesthood leader I strongly council you to tell them as soon as you can.” He had said this so soberly that I felt very impressed that this was a really important piece of instruction. We ended the interview shortly after that.

Thirty minutes later I gathered my dad and my mom (now returned from family vacation). We sat down on their bed in the master bedroom and I told them I had something difficult to tell them. I have no idea what they expected. They were a lot more scared than I was in that moment. I was just riding on the strength of the bishop’s council. “I’m not sure if you already know this, but I have homosexual tendencies.” They both sat stunned. My mom spoke first: “I just don’t understand this. I have been with you every day of your life—I have raised you and I know every influence that you have ever been under. How could this have come into your life?” My dad just sat there looking sort of numb. I told them I didn’t want to tell them this, that the bishop had advised me, and that I was sorry if they felt disappointed. I felt really responsible to validate my parents in that moment. I didn’t want them to feel like bad parents, and I guess I innately knew that my mom especially might go there. I told them that this wasn’t their fault. “Well we can fly you to Utah tomorrow so you won’t see this boy anymore,” my mom suggested after I told them more of the details of my situation. I told her that I didn’t need to run away from anything and I would leave for BYU as we had planned. After a while my dad finally said, “Clark, we will always love you and I know that this is going to be ok.” He didn’t seem to be emotionally stirred, but just took it into stride. Thus we concluded our family council.

Later my dad explained to me that he felt a huge panic coming on after I told them about my “challenge”. He said he really started to feel lost and hopeless but then suddenly he felt the Spirit tell him that I would be alright. He calmed down. I had had terrible visions of my parents rejecting me, of my parents breaking down in tears, and many other night-marish things that could have occurred. I was extremely happy that it went as well as it did.

3 weeks later I was on a plane to Provo, Utah to start my first year of college.

Our shame-driven obligation to happiness

There is a subtle but sometimes conscious shame that often drives my behavior and my sense of value. I have been in a monogamous same-sex relationship for the last year and a half. Recently I ran into a woman who I used to be close to, but who I have not seen for about 5 years. When I knew her, I was still temple worthy and I had the intention to someday marry a woman. Back then she and I often talked about mixed-orientation marriages and authenticity, and whether a gay man could find the latter within the bounds of the former. She seemed to teeter-totter a bit from day to day, sometimes telling me that she wished she and I could marry and then other days telling that she felt like it might be frustrating and futile for me to marry a woman. At the time, I was totally unwilling to picture my life outside the church, and even more unwilling to picture my future without a wife and a family.

Over the course of the 5 years since I last saw my friend, she has married and had 2 children. Through the mormon grapevine I would occasionally hear news about her; always good and happy. 2 months ago I became aware that I could show up to an event and surprise her, so I made plans to do so.

"Hey there is someone here to see you..." "Oh! Is it _____?" (her husband). She came around the corner and freaked out at seeing me there. I pretty much freaked out too because one of my favorite things in the whole world is to get back in touch with people that I care about.. even if our paths only crossed very briefly. After our elated verbal ejaculations (sorry had to), she started asking me what I was up to. I told her what had been going on in my career and also where I had been over the past 5 years. "Yes, but Clark, HOW ARE YOU??" she asked. I paused quickly and considered whether my preformulated plan to share what was going on in my life was really a good choice. One wants to share, but one never really knows whether it is truly symbiotic. "Actually, I have been in a great relationship for almost a year and a half... with a guy." Already dubious of the decision to share, I felt even more weird when she took my face in her hands and brought her face within 3 inches of mine. "Clark-- ARE YOU HAPPY THOUGH?" Still holding my face in her hands, I wanted to say-- honestly I don't know if I'm happy because you are so close to me that I can smell your stomach lining. I of course told her I was happy-- not because I actually felt happy in that moment but because I felt a sweeping obligation to gays and apostates everywhere to be blissfully happy in spite of the fact that I have decided not to follow all the precepts of the restored gospel. But I am getting ahead of myself.

In the days following this experience, I spent a lot of time thinking about happiness. If I walked up to some random card carrying mormon and grabbed their face in my hands and said.. "I know you are living the gospel-- BUT ARE YOU HAPPY?" I don't really know how that person would feel. They would probably say yes I'm so happy because as LDS people we feel a need not only to be happy, but sometimes more importantly to appear happy. If we are happy we validate the gospel we live to any doubtful observer. An onlooker might say, "you know, I really don't buy into the whole mormon thing, but you have to admit that those people are really happy." Our happiness is a powerful testament to what we do. It truly empowers us in the sight of the world.

Ironically, men and women who are in same-sex unions today face a similar pressure. Particularly those people who have brought children into their families. There is a lot of pressure to prove that not only are the 2 adults happy and fulfilled, but also that the children are happy and well adjusted.

A few years ago I got onboard the R Families Cruise ship bound for a week of universal acceptance while hitting the hot spots of New England. One of the defining moments of my adult life occured as I was sitting out in the sun near the pool area shortly after boarding. There were about 100 children of all colors, sizes and shapes running around the pool and frolicking in the sun. Their one common bond was that they had same sex parents. There were over 600 children on the ship, and the experience was magnificent. Every child seemed so wanted and loved. There was a really powerful feeling on that ship. Later in the week I attended a "teen forum". It was a panel of about 10 teenagers who had been raised by same-sex parents. They spent about an hour answering questions to a room full of curious potential parents. One of the most articulate young women on the panel said something to this effect: "I have spent so much of my life in the spotlight. Everyone is always coming at me from different angles to either prove or disprove that I am well balanced and happy. I am just a normal girl with hopes and dreams like any other girl. I just have 2 dads."

Being different doesn't obligate you to justify your choices and behavior through the medium of excessive happiness. Every human being has the right to be happy, unhappy, emotional, tempermental, loving, graceful, or imperfect as the case may be, regardless of what they choose. I realized that my friend expected me to be blissfully happy because that would be the ONLY way she could justify me not following the gospel the way that she follows it. This is a trap that we can all fall into. For those of us who stand today within a mixed-orientation marriage, we have no need to proclaim how happy and amazing we feel simply because we got married to someone of the opposite gender. For those of us who stand today in a same sex relationship, we have no need to justify our present path through excessive happiness. In life we reap what we sow. We can all just be ourselves, and if we are not totally happy right now in our lives, we are the only ones who really know that anyway! We can instead focus on how we can get what we want and set really clear intentions to fulfill the measure of our creation.