So, uh, yeah

I’m not sure if I really have a coherent followup to my previous post of gay Catholic angst and weird body horror (only at Res Studiorum et Ludorum!), but it did kinda leave things hanging. So here are just some disorganized thoughts that have flickered through my mind recently.

A lot of my progress here recently, if it can be called that, is just an increased acceptance of a lack of resolution. Barring some radical change in my personality or some new action of grace, there’s going to be a part of me that chafes against the Church’s teaching on homosexuality. And, without a pretty big overhaul of my religious beliefs, I’m probably not going to find shacking up with a lover to be a viable option.

This awkward position is tolerable right now because I feel that in the past week or so I’ve repaired my relationship with God. In the sense that it actually feels like a relationship again, rather than an abstract philosophy that I try to apply to my life. Receiving the Eucharist feels like the profound moment of intimacy with Christ that it should be. That makes a difference. Love is real.

Getting to that point again hurt, like resetting a dislocated arm. Even when I wrote my previous post, I wasn’t entirely aware of just how many negative emotions I had stuffed into the box I was opening. And I had to suddenly deal with them all, both for my own health and my faith. I hope that the lesson I take home from this is to not be so stupidly stoic in dealing with my own feelings.

When I was a relatively new Catholic, I did toy with the idea that I had a real vocational call to celibacy. But this implies a certain giftedness in chastity which the ensuing years have done a good job of convincing me that I don’t have.

Still, inasmuch as this appears to be my life, I believe there’s probably some good here that could not be obtained otherwise. There are all sorts of inchoate thoughts fluttering around my head on this point that I don’t think I can quite articulate yet. I’d like to think that being weak and vulnerable in this way is heart-softening, at least if I let it be.

It’s probably not a coincidence that all this blew up just around the same time that my calling as an artist has started to come together. Because my desire to draw and to tell stories did, for some months, did provide a sense of purpose and fulfillment that dwarfed what I felt I was getting from my religion. I recognized that, and it really disturbed me.

So that’s, uh, no longer quite the issue it once was.

About Josh W

Scribbler and doodler
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3 Responses to So, uh, yeah

  1. Gaheret says:

    Your last point reminds me of the dual pilgrimage of Lewis “The Pilgrim´s Progress”, in which the Artist, on search for trascendent, true beauty, and the Moral Man, on search of a trascendent, true good, follow their way towards God, sometimes intersecting, sometimes separating, sometimes deviating, sometimes guiding each other: it became apparent that they separating was not a good idea. Only near the end the burning vitality and beauty of the good becomes part of the Moral Man, and the solid moral order of all which is beautiful becomes evident for the Artist, and they somehow become integrated. Maybe is the same for all of us, in a way, but it is much more dramatic in your case, being an artist which can vividly sense beauty and confronted to a clear precept of the Holy Church which is painful for you and which you cannot grasp intellectually. I´ve never been in such a position, so I can only pray Our Lord helps you day by day on His path. And I´m glad you feel nearer now.

    I´m thinking that the co-creation of the artist, the Refracted Light of Tolkien, is a sign of God too, and a vocation with its own rythms: I´m remembering also that in Wilde, homosexuality had to do with the impulse towards ideal beauty. We may need to painfully put the heart in the Cross or the desert sometimes, but the purpose is to be faithful to the deep meaning of a sign which is good in itself but not for us now or this way, for blest is the wood through which justice comes about, but the handmade idol is accursed. What I mean is that what lies beneath every wish of the heart, now matter how disordered, won´t be forgotten: every single tear will be wiped from our eyes, and there is no purely negative renounce in the way of the Lord. Maybe you´re helping someone with this, those suffering what you suffer and you can understand better now, or someone else, or myself. Not that any of this is a great consolation when one is in pain, but even so. I did ponder if it was best not to comment anything at all, but I didn´t want you to think that the readers of your blog are there only for the comfortable stuff, the Lynch movies and the Gene Wolfe books (to the extent that both things can be called “comfortable”). This is enlightning for us, too, in a lot of ways: so go on all you need, we´ll be here.

    • Josh W says:

      Thanks. I do appreciate getting a thoughtful comment on this.

      I’m not familiar with the C.S. Lewis work. It does remind me a bit, though, of when I converted during my undergrad years, and how it felt like the proper integration of the different directions my English and Philosophy majors were taking me, respectively. The current point I find myself in life has, perhaps, created a new variation on this. I feel I have a lot of thoughts here that I haven’t fully worked out yet.

    • negativeprimes says:

      What you said. 😺

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