Gospel booty call...

My epic weekend of celebration (Craig & Rudy's idea--each of us celebrating a different flavor of freedoom,) has come to a close with my usual post-semester cold.  I can do anything for two years, i tell myself, or for four months; do anything for one week--two more hours. And i can. And it catches up with me. My adrenals are constantly in overdrive, until the stress i've come to lean on is yanked out from under me and i tumble. 

I tumble and i reach out.

I met with a man in a suit who smiles so wide it reaches into the next room, a man with the priesthood of God, who is designated to revelations on my behalf. He said a prayer for me that i would not run faster than i had strength. Wisdom meant for me.

I struggled with the assumption that Mormons are sexist when i began to involve myself in the religion the summer of 2006. I was afraid that people would not believe that i'm a feminist, a goddess, a hippie AND a Mormon. I  shelved those thoughts hoping an answer would come, because i wasn't willing to give up the peace i was feeling-- more deeply than ever before. I was experiencing miracles (like the immediately answered prayer to find my cat brush) as i learned to pray, to go to church even when i'd rather be rock climbing, or to turn off that old Tool song i used to like so much because of the blessings that would follow. All these things were hard, but made my life make sense. I felt joy.  

My peace has only grown, and an answer to my question has come slowly, quietly, as i associate with priesthood-holders who respect and cherish women to the ends of the universe; as i meditate on my vision board that says, "Men & Women, though spiritually equal, have different but equally significant roles." When i snipped that phrase from an Ensign in Crystal and KaRyn's cozy apartment a year ago, i didn't know what it meant. But i wanted to know. 

Now after a year of stretching and growing and seeking earnestly to live in harmony, to be connected to God every day and meet him in his house, the temple--i am beginging to understand. The LDS religion is not sexist. The blessings of the priesthood are available to everyone. But Mormons are humans. And the flaws of the people are not the flaws of the gospel. I swear that the gospel is flawless, and nobody can make it completely through darkness, sorrow or insanity without turning to the Lord. He does everything with his purpose in mind, which is for his children to be not just happy, but brimming with the joy that comes with the eternal perspective (and booty-shaking at the gay bar.)

welcome to my head

i'm new to this. but it can't be much different from journaling, which i do obsessively--sometimes 6 or 8 times a day at different intervals in military time. Although one might suggest toning down the intimate details, bodily functions or tales of gruesome gore, tonight it's a tale of all three: It's now quarter to three in the unit of the hospital where i work. And before I came in I ate a sizeable quantity of Thai food after my swim workout, but let me back upfrom there. Last night i attended a fantastic white elephant party; and Paula Abdul's zesty dance workout video tape now lives on my shelf and in my heart ( i've yet to locate the outfit worthy of trying it out.) Said party began to wind down and the hardcores had stories to tell of--i know it's cliche--pooping their pants. Our beloved East-coast-art-leviathan told a charming story of pooping his pants and tying his underoos up in a glad bag and cycling away from his studio. Then the hostess piped in that she too had recently pooped in her pants with chagrin. Well, whatever part of my accupressure/mind-body connection/touchie-feelie/yoga/hippie body that speaks Freud decided to translate my preconcious "what about me?" and "that wouldn't happen to me." sentiments into a fabulous culmination in my generic blue scrubs this very night! I was wraped up in a matching blue plastic gown and my coworker either didn't hear or repressed the terrible sound which accompanied the surprise down my leg, and she continued giving me tasks to complete in the sweaty plastic outfit--now gooey inside and out. It was 10 or 15 minutes before i could get out of the patient's room to survey the damage. I smiled. Iniside i was laughing at the timing, the irony, the silly and perfect humbling i recieved directly from God. And thanking Him I had three more pairs of scrubs in my locker down the hall. But when i finally checked things out, to my pleasant surprise, the surprise was not brown, but clear and runny, like antibacterial soap or even the antimicrobial stuff i slather on every three minutes. But it came out of my butt! I think i'm just gonna pretend it was that anitmicrobial goo and repress where it came from. A la freud.

ok