Gay faith my personal journey

   There are many different people from all walks of life. Many races many skin colors within theses’ races, and many Faiths.

 Diversity is the way of the world, But it is not the will of man.

This issue of Touching Truth will be slightly different. Normally I talk about religious issues from outside abstract views, my goal is to make people take there spirit their moral code and their life and make it there own. To learn and be in there faith no matter what it is. (by be in their faith I mean not a weekend worrior but or some one who pratices in public but someone that if left alone on a desert inland for 30 year would still be what ever faith the walked on as because you don’t turn it on and off) because I feel only when you get passion from your convictions do you know that you are being your authentic self walking in the life you were meant to.

With out self knowledge Faith is nothing more then empty ritual. Ritual that you do for other people, to reassure yourself that your covered people will approve, you’re doing the right thing. But you’re not, your being lazy, your soul lagging inside a mechanical shell that repeats the functions you were preprogrammed with by family society and your religion to perform…Your hiding because it’s easy.

The subject of this issue I know has not been clear up to this point and that’s because it’s two fold, and affects me on a deeply personal level. I normally have no problem (at least I don’t think.) being unbiased. I will still try to do so but… we will see.

                                          gay and lazy faith.

Why do I feel this way? Living through it and being a black black black sheep.

I add three blacks to the sheep because; I am homosexual, Native American, and Wiccan.

I am pretty much a minority every way I turn.

When I was a teenager I went to live with my father. Through a through search of my personal belongings I was ousted from two closets at once the gay one and the less common Broom one. My father to spite his native blood came from a Right Wing, Conservative Republican, hard-line Christian, nuclear family. So he reacted predictably by burning all my faith related note books and placing me in counseling as well as making church three times a week mandatory.

My mother goddess rest her soul never put pressure on me to be anything but what I was. (Even though she to had a negative reaction to my sexuality some two years later) But I was wholly unprepared for the world of disapproval and shame I was trust in to. From every angle I was at war. I was told I was mentally ill for liking boys, spiritual sick for not being saved, and headed straight to hell for making pacts with Satan (some thing I think I would have remembered doing.) No one seemed to like anything about me. And it shames me to say I started to give in. I wanted my families love and approval. I wanted to be reassured that I was a good and worthy person. The only problem was I would have to change everything I was into something people wanted me to be.  

But I was alone my mother was lost in the Florida ghettos and had set me to live with my father to save me from the homelessness she was going through. So I had no one, no love or support or approval, only disappointment, disgust and lack of understanding.

So in my despair my loneliness I decided to try. I let my self image shatter and I listed to the therapist and the pastor. And I sang to god and got washed in the blood of the lamb and did every thing that was wanted of me. I prayed almost every night on my hands and knees feeling like a dirty pervert unworthy of who I was trying to contact. I asked to be good enough to be loved, to be a better person so my father would love me so my family wouldn’t be ashamed of me. I prayed to stop liking boys and to start likening girls so that maybe they would be proud of me… but god was silent. And in the cold empty space created by the lack of the presence of the Holy Spirit I came to the consolation that I was worthless god would not touch me because I did not deserve it. After all how could an abomination like me even dare as for the love of the one on high? It would be like a demon asking for forgiveness for surly no one was more vile and unclean then me. I had kissed a boy, and been molested by a man and said phrasing words to pagan gods in midnight rituals.

(This is a story I have never shared). So I deiced to try harder. I started fasting to show god I was sorry. I went for six days only eating Bouillon water. When I finally gave in I cried I remember sitting on the floor in my step mother’s kitchen eyes to blurry to see barely being able to breath snot running down my face in shame and failure as I at the remains of a left over KFC bucket. I was so upset and on such an emotional roller coaster that the stress of it made me vomit, and that’s how I became bulimic.

  

This was my life for eight of the longest months of my life. Eventually I heard from my mother she had scraped and clawed her way out of homelessness and was now in Boston. At this point my father had divorced my step mother and I was living alone with my dad who was drowning his failed marriage in various bottles of comfort.

So I made arrangements and was on a bus as fast as I could go. We lived for only a month in Boston. Before we made it back to my home state of Ohio and I was starting to slowly recover from what I had been through. I hadn’t talked to my mom about the things I had done. Because I couldn’t take her disappoint meant to  and I knew she would not be proud of me trying to be a good little daddies boy.

But faith would not let sleeping dogs lie. For a very sort period of time I had a relationship with a boy named….never mind. Anyway he had some how I believe through a friend found my address and wrote me some letters and I panicked when they arrived. Mom was completely out of touch when I had been outed so she hadn’t herd. And of course mom already knew I was wiccan she was my teacher but she never pushed me to learn. But this was different. When my letters disappeared from my room I knew it was only a matter of time before which ever of my siblings took them told my mother I had to do something.

I waited till the end of a particular long boring day as my mother was enjoying her third glass o whine to try and handle the situation. Because surly my open minded goddess loving mom slightly liquored up would be fine with letters from an ex boy friend right…

We started off talking about school and how I was catching up, I told her it was easy and that I was doing fine and she praised me. Saying how proud she was that I got my intelligence from her side and that I would do great things one day.

So I asked a question to brooch the subject hen I saw this opening.

“Mom is there anything I could do to disappoint you?”

She smiled “No not really any thing that would disappoint me you wouldn’t do.”

“So theres nothing then?”

“Well if you killed someone” and then her eyes got distant and sad and she said “or if you were to be gay”

My heart broke even writing this I am tearing up a bit thinking of the most hurtful words I can think of.

I said ok I was just wondering and walked out of the room.

She was going to find out and then she would hate me to, and I would lose the last person the only person in my life that loved me. I waited till the house was quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep and I push open my window and slipped out. I couldn’t face my mother once she knew the truth. Dad hated me god hated me and I couldn’t take it from her to. I went out to the barn and cried like I never have until my throat was raw and my head pounded I just laid in the hay loft and lost my mind to despair.

 As I moved around in the hay my hand came a crossed a length of old rope that must have been forgotten. And I had the answer. I was worthless I was an abomination in the eyes of man and god. Filthy to the core. So I fixed the rope around a rafter about five feet out from the loft and the other end around my neck. And I jumped.

Hanging is just about the worst way to die I can imagine anymore. now I can see why then had those trap doors to break your neck and make it quick. For about three seconds I tried to die to escape and just go to hell after all why wait I was only going to sully ever one I encountered any way I was doing the world a favor. Then the pain and the panic and the feeling of something close to drowning made me kick. I had no hope of reaching the floor it was a good three feet below my swing toes and there was nothing in arms reach so I just kicked pointlessly.

But the rope was old and rotted from age and exposure to moister and in snapped sending me down in to the mud (I hope it was mud) on the floor below when I hit I collapsed face first and laid there.

I was in shock I had failed I didn’t know what to do I could breath yet and I couldn’t move.

Then I was struck by something, the chance of it all.

When I had thought of dying before (had I had a lot) I always thought of taking pills I wanted to leave a nice corpses (stupid I know) some thing people could visit.

I would have never in a million years planed a hanging it was sheer fate the I touched some forgotten rope in an unused barn that would end up snapping and saving my life. I had witnessed divine intervention.

So one up there wanted me to live, someone up there liked me, and that made me like me, and then that made me pissed.

I was here for a purpose. A lot of this had to fall in to place for me to be a gay wiccan Lakota in rural Ohio. I was who I was supposed to be because some one wanted me that way. Being different had opened my eyes from a very young age and I knew I was more grown up then other people my age. These things were a gift that made me strong and smart and compassionate. And to kill my self would be a slap in the face of the Divine hands that crafted me to be a very rare person. I do not live this life for society I do not live it for my family though I honor them. I do not live it for the words of man written in a rule book by people who could not picture the unique mix that would bring me in to existence. I live it because I am supposed to I follow my heart and my body and my spirit because they know better then my brain.

I had found the courage to be me, the reassurance that my soul was pure to its purpose, and I have never looked back. I had to be striped bare to find my core of steel.

So is your soul in your hands or are you going through the motions?

Scream hallelujah for blood

   Picture if you will this scene. A city lays in ruins columns of smoke rise for the ashes; no sound is herd as every living thing is dead. In the streets lay the remains of the occupants. Men mostly hunters as they didn’t have the knowledge of farming and a few soldiers. There death more grizzly then most because they raised a weapon in defense of their home and families to a much larger and much more well organized force. In the remains of homes were they huddled, lay the woman never thinking to fight they stood no chance and because of there sex wouldn’t no how (it was improper). There bodies violated and left for the crows as no building stood. Yet some of these huddled women certainly did die with a weapon in there hand a dull kitchen knife perhaps or the shaft of a broom handle maybe they fought with just their teeth and nails “why?” because that’s what mothers do, but it did not save there little one’s there children lay were they were found next to the mother who tried to shield them or pulled from crawl spaces and other small nooks or simply in there beds where they had hope a blankets might save them like it did from bed time monsters.

In there pens herd animals are systematical butchered Cow, Sheep, Pig and Goat all laid to waste with the same brutality and totality of the humans. The dogs that worked with man ever loyal no matter the coast can be found next to there hunters or perhaps a lonely old woman who liked his company. The cats to never again to walk the street at night getting in to trouble that only a feline can pull off all dead an entire people. Man woman child pet and live stock. All field’s(if they new how to farm this is debated), buildings, history scrolls, religious places defiled and laid to waste. And when all this is done the very earth is salted so that no living thing can grow ever again.  and a curse place upon the land so that if any one dare try to live here there first born would die (more innocent children killed)    

 

What had these people done to the invaders? What crime could they have committed that so inspired hate that they would have a curse laid on there broken corpses should any one dare live in the shadow of them and possibly morn or honor there tragedy?

The answer is nothing. They did not know for these invaders had never committed a crime ageist them nor had there children or babies. There crime was living were they were, because I am speaking of the city of Jericho in the land of Canaan.

These unsuspecting people died because the Israelites wanted there land minus the people. And perhaps the saddest thing to me is that Christians call this the greatest miracle of the bible “yeah! The walls were brought down and the defenseless people butchered hurray for genocide.”

If this story fills you with pride at the glory of god then you are a sick sick sick bastard. No crime they could have possibly committed warranted the death of every breathing thing in side those walls down to the house pets.

Cheer for your blood and genocide ageist innocent people all because some stones fell over on cue. What a wonders miracle behold the power of the Christ god.

Well you behold; I’ll try to keep my lunch. How blinded by a single magic trick do you have to be to celebrate an event that would cause the Gestapo to duck there head in shame?

Merlin’s running amok

                            Merlin’s running amok

  In almost every verity of faith there are those with fresh and innovative ideas. Probably none is more open to this then Wicca, which is a mixture of old tradition’s dating back to prehistory to the new age and neo-pagan movements. This makes for an inclusive policy and open membership under heard of in most dogmatic religions. Were two people that follow different gods or goddess will come together and share a faith.

Were no one looks at you side ways for saying “My dragon spirit guide told me to make up with my friend.”

But there are certain levels of believe ability and I found one I am having a hard time swallowing. The point of my contention Druids.

Now let me clarify so as not to offend neo-Druidism is fine with me. These are people who try there best to emulate there beliefs based on what they know of druids and mix it with the modern earth love and harm none message of are current time.

What bothers me is when I talk to some one and they inform me that they are an enth degree Druid of the Ancient order privy to Druid only secrets. Really !!!

No your not. You know why because are only records of Druids are Roman references and the order disappeared in the second century. What we know of the Druids is that they trained for some twenty year learning the Oral history from there mentors. So unless your stashing the oldest man alive in side that grove who is it that’s telling you this oral history. The answer no one, your making it up and for some reason (Most likely a love for rank, station and arrogance) you will not call your self a neo-druid.

Other things we know about real druids. Human sacrifice was an important part of there rituals as they functioned as both spiritual and judicial leaders.

It reminds me of the church of latter day saint saying Jesus talked to the Native Americans just because they say so. Now I am a firm believe in finding ones on truth through spiritual self exploration and trying new things but that is a far cry from telling people you have facts, secrets only for the privileged among you from over 1800 years ago.

With all the difficulty Wiccans face trying to keep as much of the Ancient knowledge preserved and uncover that which they can because of years of persecution and hatred.

To create an elitist society base on absolutely nothing is counterproductive to the point of embarrassing the effort.

You’re as much a Ancient trained Druid as I am a Jedi Master. Please stop trying to be self important as it just makes you look foolish. There is nothing wrong with neo-druidism. So stop being a title snob and face facts sadly the knowledge is lost (not that human sacrifice will be missed much) to Christian influence. And all we can do is honor that which we know and how we have grown more socially conscious in there shadow.      

Christian Identity thieves

                                              The Silent Christian Crime

In a recent study I saw it stated that 80% of the world population is some denomination of Christian. The Vatican City in Rome its own micro country is a testament to the far reaching ever present church. In America and most civilized countries freedom of religion is one of the most important corner stone’s of a progressive society.

So it makes me profoundly sad that something horrible is happening to are world and no one is talking about it. In fact when you first read what it is that I find so horrible you may need to take a second to understand why I am saying this.

Christian Missionaries.

Of all the varieties of religion Christianity is possibly the most aggressive in their need to convert and spread. Almost every American has had there door knocked on by Jehovah Witnesses and the Church of Later Day Saint trying to spread there less popular version of the “Good word”, and were is the harm in that you might think?

The answer is on the boarders the fringes of well developed countries. They go to these indigenous people and offer them things they have never seen before and most alluringly the ease of labor. Running water, heated homes, telephone, medicine all these modern luxuries, But its never free it’s usually not until it’s to late that they realize what they have lost for these things.

There cultural identity is being stolen for fast food and a welfare dependency. Who they are is being fundamentally changed. Not by the slow integration of free thought that creates a natural amalgam of who you are and were you came from, But in a brutally quick why that leaves them unprepared to face the new world they have been injected into.

Perhaps you are having trouble seeing the implications. After all what could be so bad about this? So let me explain to you what this has done to me personally.

My great grand mother was an Americanized Native American and met her husband a immigrant who changed his last name to sound more English. They had children and raised them in the only way available. When my mother was born they named her a word from my great grandmother’s language meaning flower.

There was only one problem her name was wrong. By losing her Cultural heritage at a young age and having to learn English so she could communicate with the under educated English she lived with my great grand mother accepted there word for her people she believed her people were call black foot a (sub tribe of Cherokee) because they were the most populate tribe in the area at that time. So what was wrong with my mother’s name? It’s not Cherokee its Lakota and until I was looking up Native American names I didn’t know the difference either. I hadn’t felt up to tackling the trouble of a second almost extinct language.  And here I had spent all this time learning as much as I could about black foot culture and history only to learn it’s not a part of who I am.

As a homosexual I have felt apart of a largely Christianized America and not until I fond the mystery of my mothers name did I learn of the Lakota belief in “Two spirits” a term that covers most of the L.G.B.T community today. Were who I was born as is not vilified with more anger and more financial backing then people use to go after killers, but instead is seen as a blessing marking some one as being able to see more of the world to be wiser then most because they stand between the masculine and famine being a person of two spirits. How much pain and struggle could I have done with out if I hadn’t lost this part of were I came from?

The oral histories folklore spiritual beliefs and traditional practices are the first victims to go when a missionary converts people. Hundreds of tribes and thousands of years of lore lost for ever as heresy. Then the physical objects ancestor shields and totems passed down for years carrying the story of there family’s and the names of the ancestors are burned to show that they are faithful to god and not attached to heathen objects of “Magic”.

The quest to become one people should not coast us the knowledge of were we came from. The last time knowledge was controlled it was called the DARK AGES. So I ask you readers don’t send money to these history killers. If god wants them he can call them him self. Let a child pick up his fathers spear to hunt and stop for a brief moment to ask his ancestors to bless him while he attempts to feed his family. Instead of taking away his knowledge of how to take care of himself and replace it with third world poverty and no option other then to put his hand out.

Thank Yeshua the end!

Thank Yeshua the end

Does this sound strange to you? Does it lift your spirit with love for the only begotten son? No maybe you think it should say “Praise Jesus Amen”. How Important are those word you might say them once a week. You might be more enthusiastic and say them everyday. Maybe you have a lot to be thankful for, just sharing some sacred words, words that hold power. You can ward of evil and call down commands in the name of Jesus Christ. He compels and delivers and can I get an Amen.

Ok so this is what you’re comfortable with if you’re a Christian, its common practice. But should it be? The bible was written in Aramaic it had to go through four language changes before Yeshua turned in to Jesus. Jesus is not an Aramaic word. No such person existed the son of god was called by his father and mother and friends Yeshua maybe Yes or shua for sort.

 Popular among some theosophists, proponents of Afrocentric theories of history and adherents of esoteric Christianity is the conjecture that amen is a derivative of the name of the Egyptian god Amun (which is sometimes also spelled Amen).

So we have praise (the wrong kid) name of the Egyptian All god, still sound like a Christian thing? It sure doesn’t to me. Sounds like you’re praying and invoking the name of the wrong person.

So ask your self what does this mean to you will you change what you have always said? What has always held power and felt sacred to you? Hoping that the big guy up stairs forgives you for being wrong this whole time? After all it wasn’t your fault you were just repeating a four times reinterpret book create over a nine hundred year process.

Or does it not matter the History, Entomology and facts. You feel in your heart that his name is Jesus because it works for you and you feel good saying it. It lifts your soul and makes you feel better and Amen is just another form of woo hoo or yippy.

Well then you are deciding to ignore that book. That precious book of do’s and don’ts, which tell you how to take your next breath without falling straight in to hell. Can you do that just say it like you want it to be because you’re comfortable? 

                                                                                                                                

I say this. What is in a name?  The Creator in all faiths gives us free will a sense of right and wrong. Yeshua didn’t write a book he lived a life lead by what he knew was right and wrong told to him by his heart. Maybe you should ask your self WWWYD ?

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