Surviving Suicide
That which we sow we shall reap:
when we sow our thoughts we reap our actions;
when we sow our actions we reap our habits;
when we sow our habits we reap our character;
when we sow our character we reap our destiny.
—Hindu proverb
Many of us have long since mastered the art of despair. Many of us have fallen into despair’s trance, memorized by thoughts of suicide.
In some religious circles, the act of killing oneself is a subject of great controversy. Some traditions use their power to shun and shame those who have committed suicide and have the audacity to condemn souls into further despair in the afterlife—as if they had such power. These demeaning beliefs are just as harmful as the religions that turn their back on those in this life. As Unitarian Universalists we seek to build a new way, based on acceptance and love.
Facing Fear
“Many of our fears are tissue-thin, and a single courageous step would carry us clear through them.”
—Brendan Francis
Unitarian Universalists value knowledge; we believe in facing the facts and tackling problems rationally. We might even go so far as to affirm that there is a kind of salvation of the heart and mind in knowing life as it is, in all its glory and ugliness.
The human psyche does not always cooperate, however.
What do we do when irrational—perhaps nonrational—fears seize us and send us running from the knowledge?
Most people have fears that play havoc with their reason, and I am no exception.
Coming Out in a Conservative Family
“The world is full of suffering; it is also full of overcoming it.”
—Helen Keller
I am honored to be a part of a inclusive religious tradition that values not only the worth and dignity of all people but that also actively seeks to affirm and invite diversity, which is not always the case for those of us who grew up in more exclusive religious paradigms.
There are, still, many religious institutions which cling to a dying worldview that people who are not heterosexual are not normal. Or they take it a step further, and say that lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and transgendered persons are an abomination to God.
This is a sad and harmful stance, and it leaves a trail of pain and suffering for those who have endured such teachings. Some of us have been able to escape the bonds of belief systems that condemn us through religious hate-speak.
As an “escapee,” I offer you words of comfort: You are not an abomination. You are not flawed. You are good and worthy, and you deserve to live life in an unfragmented fashion—as who you are, knowing that you are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” that you are loved, and that you deserve to be happy and whole—as well as confident that you deserve to walk your own spiritual path with authenticity.
Divorce
“Healing does not mean going back to the way things were before, but rather allowing what is now to move us closer to God.”
—Ram Dass
Just as much as marriage, divorce or separation can be a holy choice. When divorce is grounded in deep reflection and care, it can be an expression of love and commitment to life. The covenant of committed partnership is an important one, to be honored and respected. However, ’till death do us part,’ is not a vow to cling to, if the relationship itself is causing death.
A belief in continuing revelation in our search for truth and meaning says that, when new information becomes clear to us, honoring that information is a spiritual path to be followed.
After the Disaster
“What people here experienced in the years after Katrina was unique in countless ways—just as the storm and its aftereffects was a disaster unprecedented in U.S. history. But what we have seen are heightened struggles over the same concerns faced by folks everywhere: education, health care, housing, workers’ rights, criminal justice, and the privatization of public services and resources.”
—Jordan Flaherty, Floodlines: Community and Resistance from Katrina to the Jena Six
A disaster strikes fiercely and suddenly. It shatters our homes and property. It puts an end to many community services. It plays havoc with our interiors. A disaster leads people into and through stages of despair. Our once-so-comfortable-existence is replaced with anger, grief, frustration, and confusion. Looking back, I now see this after the disaster calamity as a null zone. In many cases a null zone impinges into the life of those who try to reconstitute themselves after the disaster.
The basic human instinct to recover, return, and rebuild motivates people after the disaster. Unfortunately, the situation around them is not normal; in fact, it is far from being anything like “normal.”
Responding to Trauma Across the World
Tragic images,
a crying sound in my ear,
and I turn to ice.
Have you ever felt frozen after hearing the news of a traumatic event or catastrophe After the sadness and reality of the situation have settled in, you’ve probably also experienced the sinking feeling that there isn’t anything you can do to “fix” the problem.
We hate acknowledging that difficult truth.
Coming face to face with existential powerlessness turns our worldview upside-down. It confronts a sense of security that we depend on and, in fact, spend much of our time trying to build.
The Challenge of Being “All of the Above”
I’m just not willing to choose only one.
I have been a student of religion all my life, it seems. But I have lived in worlds that press me to choose. I attend a Christian seminary. I have been in a “goddess group” of Wiccans. I honor humanism. I have had the holy joy of worshiping with Muslims, with Pagans, with Protestants, with Catholics, with Jews, with Hare Krishnas.
Sometimes, kind practitioners of one particular religion or another will profess that they know what I truly am (and it is always what they are). I take these as compliments, for I know they are intended that way.
Others are not so complimentary. Mine is a deliberately syncretic faith. “Syncretism,” to many in exclusivist religions, is a heresy, an un-holy mess, something to be avoided at all costs.
Well-meaning people will explain that it doesn’t matter what I choose, but I must choose, and only one. Only then can I go truly deep into a religion.
Parenting Gender-Nonconforming Children
When our first child was born, we were filled with wonder and curiosity and love for this newest member of the family who had taken up residence in our hearts long before we knew any details of identity. Personality, voice, talents and challenges were all unknown to us, all seeds just taking root in our new baby, all blossoms in waiting.
Over the years, we learned that gender too was one of the seeds that would only emerge in time. How beautiful it has been to watch as our beloved child has bloomed, in gender and identity and expression.
A Quest for Integrity
It always surprises me when people tell me how brave I am for being openly transgender.
It doesn’t seem like bravery to me because I know how painful it was to live in the “before”—the time of hiding and questions and thinking no one would love me if they knew the truth. It took some courage to choose to live honestly—it always does—but no more (or less,) I think, than for anyone else.
That’s the thing. Every time I tell my story, people come to me and tell me about the long journey they’ve made (or wish to make) to live in a way that feels honest and real.
Loss of a Spouse/Partner
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold itagainst your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.—Mary Oliver from “In Blackwater Woods”
I would love life to be this neat and linear—first you love, then you hold, then you let it go. But living is messy, not neat or linear.
I’ve thought about being able to bargain with God—I certainly know many people who use prayer to get them through what seem to be unfathomable depths. But I have a hard time getting my head around the actor God of my Jewish childhood who had the power to make things happen in response to human behavior.
I prepared for ministry with the Christian God, who at least had a little more time on earth through his son, Jesus. But the God in the Christian testament is even less personable and no more believable to me. And though the God metaphor is my preferred vocabulary for discussing the sacred, my image of the mystery which connects us to one another and to the larger universe is neither personal nor omnipotent.
This makes it kind of hard to know how to invoke the spirit of connectivity and support that I have longed for as I go through the biggest challenge of my life thus far—watching my soul-mate succumb to cognitive dementia over the last six years. She passed away in July, so the years of observing her suffering are behind me, but my needs for connection to the larger universe remain.
