Friday, September 29, 2017

Dear Mom, I think I'm still Mormon, though.

Dear Mom,

I'm not sure how to write this one.  It's probably gonna be long though, so gird your loins.

I suppose there's no reason to bury the lede - I've stopped going to church.

There are a lot of reasons, really.  Questionable history.  Practices and policies with which I do not agree. Changing doctrines. The culture. Oh, the culture. The fact that an overwhelming majority of Mormons in Utah voted for a man for president who does not, in any conceivable way, embody the teachings espoused by the gospel they claim to love and live. What it really comes down to, though, is that, anymore, church feels a bit like an old favorite pair of jeans that just don't fit anymore.

I also think maybe it's that the church doesn't really know what to do with me.  I mean that in a few ways.  First, The Church isn't very good at dealing with anyone who isn't straight, white, and married.  It's like a perpetual awkward first date. But also, I think people in the church don't really know what to do with me, specifically. Mormonism was, and to a large extent still is, my culture - I'm not going to request that my name be removed from the records or anything.  But Mormons, with a few rare exceptions, have never really been my people. I haven't ever really attended church for the social aspect.  I mean, the people are pleasant enough, but church is usually a pretty lonely place for me.  When I first moved to LA, it was about a year and a half before I felt like I had any real friends here.  And I went to church every week.  "But wait!" you say, "You have plenty of Mormon friends!"  True.  But I counted.  I can think of maybe a dozen people who I would consider friends who I met at church - and I didn't meet any of them in Utah.  The rest are friends who are friends for other reasons who just happen to be Mormon because I lived in Utah where everyone is Mormon.

I don't begrudge anyone who finds value and joy inside The Church.  It works really well for a lot of people.  And I don't hold anything against the church, necessarily. I still value growing up with that framework.  And I still believe in God and things like love, self-improvement, kindness, compassion, mercy, good stewardship, courage etc.  But more and more I've noticed that the times I feel most connected to those ideas, to something Divine, it has absolutely nothing to do with The Church.  It happens in yoga, or during the fireworks at Disneyland, or watching a sunrise over the mountains, or while playing a sparkly purple hippo in a kid's show because that's what a kid said I should play.  Church is a place I feel increasingly frustrated.

I don't know what this means long-term.  But for now, I need to take a step away.  It's entirely possible that will be a permanent decision.  Right now, I don't know.

There's a Buddhist parable about a raft that goes something like this: A man traveling along a path came to a great expanse of water. As he stood on the shore, he realized there were dangers and discomforts all about. But the other shore appeared safe and inviting. The man looked for a boat or a bridge and found neither. But with great effort, he gathered grass, twigs, and branches and tied them all together to make a simple raft. Relying on the raft to keep himself afloat, the man paddled with his hands and feet and reached the safety of the other shore. He could continue his journey on dry land. Now, what would he do with his makeshift raft? Would he drag it along with him or leave it behind? He would leave it.

A counselor in a bishopric said to me recently, "We're all on our own journey home." I think in this situation the raft was The Church for me.  And I can be grateful that it served me, but I can also recognize that for now, my journey doesn't require a raft and I can let it go.

Now comes the difficult part of facing well-meaning family and friends who love me and are going to try their darndest to reach and rescue me.  They'll send me Ensign articles and share scriptures they read that morning and mention conference talks in an off-handed way. And I know it comes from a place of love. I do. But Mom. No. I just...I can't. I grew up in the church, remember? So I know all about that stuff. I know all the tricks. And also, I didn't reach this decision because of a lack of study or prayer. In fact, the journey to this place has been a journey of study and prayer. Though I know it comes from a place of love, when people share scriptures, or issue spiritual challenges like that, it says to me, "You don't know what you're doing, and I don't respect you enough to make your own decisions.  Let me show you the right way."  But I do know how to make my own decisions.  God and I are good.  I don't need to be rescued. Ya know?

This is something I found that I think is pretty great for approaching these kinds of conversations:
Things to say and not to say when a loved one leaves the faith.

Anyway.  I'm rambling.  Shortly after making the break, I had a moment where I thought, "Am I making a mistake?" and then I just felt peace.  I'm good.  I have some larger contextual thoughts I may share with you another time, but for now, I think I can be done.

If you need me of a Sunday, you can probably find me in yoga class, or wandering the beach, or reading a good book in my hammock, but you won't find me at church.

Love you,


Thursday, September 21, 2017

Dear Mom, I've become a vegetarian.

Dear Mom,

So.  Vegetarianism.  Remember when I kind of tried that out a couple of years ago?  I can't remember if you were around for that. Anyway, I decided last week that I'm gonna take the plunge and commit to doing it.  It's something I've been thinking about for a while, and based on what I've read and what I believe, it just makes sense to me.  I actually think I might be trending vegan, but I don't know that I'm ready to jump into that full-tilt.

This probably isn't a surprise to you.  After all, I wash my hair with baking soda, live a somewhat minimalist lifestyle, sleep in a hammock, try to buy eco-friendly products, and want to live in a tiny house.

Here's what it comes down to for me.  I believe in God.  And I believe that God probably isn't too pleased with our approach to animals as food.  Because I believe he wants us to be good stewards.  And we're not. That's not to say I'm against eating animals, just that our current system of making that happen is kind of messed up (Did you know it takes 50 times as many resources to grow a pound of beef as a pound of plants? 50!) so I will make the decision not to participate in that system so far as I can.

I did accidentally order a beef taco at Taco Bell yesterday - all it said on the menu was "Cheesy potato taco," so I thought I was safe - but I didn't realize it was beef until I took I bite. I could have taken it in and exchanged it like a good vegetarian, but part of my whole rationale for being vegetarian is the wasteful aspect of the food system.  So, I ate the burrito because I figured if I took it in, they'd just throw it away, and that sort of negates the whole reason for doing it in the first place.  Ya know?

So. That's where I'm at.  And though I can no longer eat your chicken enchiladas - not that I have recently anyway... - family chip dip is still on the table.  Luckily.

Love you,


Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Dear Mom, thanks.

Dear Mom,

I went to an acting workshop yesterday.  Well, it was really more of an acting lecture, but all the same, I enjoyed it.  The speaker took us through a visualization exercise that I found rather impactful given my current life situation.  It went something like this:

Picture yourself as a small child.  Back when you were young, and vulnerable and full of hope and youthful joy. This is your inner child. Now take yourself by the hand.  Look up and standing in front of you are your parents, smiling peacefully. And you say to them, "Mom, Dad, thank you for raising me the way you did.  Thank you for teaching me and guiding me and loving me.  And I forgive you for the mistakes you made.  They weren't your fault.  After all, you're a product of your own upbringing.  But now it's time for me to take over.  I can no longer live my life for you."  Your parents smile, and wave goodbye. You turn and start to walk away.  You keep walking until your parents are gone and it's just you and your inner child.  He looks up at you perhaps a tad confused or scared, but you lean down, gather him in your arms and say, "It's okay.  I've got you now.  You are safe, and I love you.  I'm here with you now, and I always will be."  Then you put that child into your heart.  Once inside, you flip on the lights and your heart is a place of light and warmth and creativity where you and your inner child can play and explore and create together.

Well, that about broke me. I had tears streaming down my face. I think that actually probably has more to do with my relationship with Dad than with you.  But maybe it doesn't.  I guess Dad just seems  Which sounds obvious, but I think you know what I mean.

Anyway, I guess what I want to say with all of this is...thanks. And I forgive you.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go. This chubby cheeked little piece of heaven and I have some catching up to do.

Love you,


Sunday, September 3, 2017

Dear Mom, it's been a minute.

Dear Mom,

Remember when I had that crazy idea to write you letters to keep you updated on how my life was going, and then I only wrote one?  I remember that, too.

Well, I've been doing a lot of thinking recently and partly out of my own wish for yet another creative outlet, and partly at the encouragement of my roommate (You remember my friend Farrah, don't you?  We went to the roller derby together? She thought you and Dad would look like little gnome people for some reason...anyway, I ended up moving in with her.  It's a pretty great situation. You'd love her couches.), I want to start writing some more.  And my last letter to you was the last thing I published on my blog here, so I thought it might be fun to pick it back up again.  I don't think all of my blog posts will be specifically for you, but feel free to read them all anyway.

Anyway, I think I'm going to try being vegan for a minute.  But before that happens I want to use up all of the non-vegan food currently in my fridge/freezer (I'm also trying to be more conscious of food waste), so I'm gonna go have a nice, buttery chocolate chip cookie.  I'll have one for you, too.

Love you,