I'm WAY fucked up.
I feel like someone has punched me, well below the belt, and left his fist there.
My colleague Tom is one of my best friends here in the Northwest corner of Pennsylvania where I've ended up. The other day he stopped by my office to see me and I asked, "Do you speak New Age?"
"A little," he said.
"If I start talking about my root chakra, are you going to know what I mean?"
"Not really," he said. So I explained: in various schools of eastern physiology and philosophy, you have seven energy centers running along the center of your body, from the base of your spine to the crown of your head. The lowest chakra (Sanskrit for wheel), the one at the base of your spine, relates to issues of physical safety and of the unit that provides you with that safety--in other words, your tribe, especially the one you were born into.
My birth tribe is the Mormons, and I recently returned from a week in Utah, and my first chakra got a heavy dose of weird, weird energy, some of it good, and some of it not. That's the fist I can feel gouging into my intestines.
Before I go any further, I must hasten to add that I am NOT from Utah--I am from southern Arizona, thank you very much, a fourth-generation native, which is something not many white people can say. Three of my four grandparents were born in Arizona before it became a state. While I was in Utah at the end of July, I met a po-Mo (post-Mormon) who asked me, "So, did you never live in Utah?"
"Not unless you count the nine weeks I was at the Missionary Training Center," I said. I never even went to BYU. My alma mater for my first two degrees is the University of Arizona--go Cats!
But since 2001 I've been going to Sunstone, this symposium on Mormonism held every summer in Salt Lake City, and every summer it has been a really good experience: I connect with old friends and meet some new ones; I stay with my sister and her family in Bountiful a few extra days and play with my niece and nephews, tickling them, reading to them, picking them up by their ankles and swinging them around; I present several papers that I can list on my curriculum vitae.
And every year when I get home, my insomnia is out of control and other stuff is screwed up too. This year I cannot eat. I have this constant, low-grade nausea right now. Eating doesn't make me feel better and not eating doesn't make me feel better. The only upside is that I'm losing a lot of weight, something I have vaguely and remotely intended to do for the past few years.
Fifty-one weeks out of the year, the only practicing Mormons I talk to with any frequency are the members of my immediate family. I know Hinckley is still president, but I have no idea who his councilors are and I don't really want to know. I don't want to keep up with what's going on in the church these days, because I don't care: I only care about the church insofar as it affects the lives of my family, and insofar as it is among the primary institutions that shaped me.
But that "insofar" goes a long way: I truly believe that "an unexamined life is not worth living," so if the church somehow lost all its members tomorrow and existed only as a historical relic, I would still be concerned with scrutinizing and puzzling out how my present life has been shaped by my past, including the 26 years I spent as a devout Mormon, obeying the commandments, participating in the culture and passionately studying the doctrines of the Church.
And one of the things I want to know is this: why is it so traumatic to go to Salt Lake City, to march through the matrix of Mormondom? Why does it so screw up my system? Why does it take me a month to recover from Sunstone when I really enjoy the conference while I'm there, and why has this trip been extra bad?
The Matrix of Mormonism. Yeah. Right now I feel sort of like Neo before he takes the pill. Funny thing was, I thought I already swallowed it.
The reason "it [is] so traumatic to go to Salt Lake City, to march through the matrix of Mormondom" is because deep down, I mean deep deep down, you know its ALL TRUE! It's called "guilt", Holly, and you're going to have to deal with it sometime, if not here, then in the next life. In the meantime, please remember that we Mormons love you, and we'll continue to pray for you.
I'm kidding.
(Okay. Maybe that wasn't funny.)
Holly, I'm a big fan. I've listened to most, if not all of your Sunstone talks at Sunstone Online. The panel you participated on (Will, Grace, and Angels in Brokeback America...) was the emotional highlight of a weekend full of great symposium presentations. I discovered your Blog a month or so ago and have enjoyed working my way through several new and old posts. Keep writing.
[BTW, I'm a Taiwan Mish Alum (Taipei) as well (1989-90). I wrote you an e-mail a few months ago enquiring about the status of your book, The Rib Cage, but you were bummed out that I wasn't a publisher.]
I'll take a stab at your question (even though I'm pretty sure it was rhetorical)... Does the Rape Victim ever fully recover from the Rape? Does the Vietnam Vet ever completely forget Vietnam? (Especially when they return to the scene of the crime?) More importantly, do they *want* to forget?
What I mean is this: The journey back from Rape/Vietnam is a powerful journey, and possibly the most important and bravest thing the Victim/Vet ever accomplished. That "journey" of self-discovery and healing probably defines them more than any other aspect of their lives. And the journey is inextricably tied to the cause; elliminate the cause (or its ability to inflict pain), and the journey looses its meaning.
I'm amazed how many survivors of traumatic events proclaim years later that they wouldn't change a thing... its not traumatic event they're grateful for, but the journey back. A return to SLC causes some "flashback" pain, but isn't it also a reminder of how far you've come?
And if the "stomach punch" you describe is really that fucked up, I guess I'd question if the pain is merely "flashback" pain, or the very real pain one feels while they are actually on the journey back?
[Apologies if I offended anyone by comparing Mormonism to Vietnam or Rape... wish I could have thought of a less melodramatic example.]
Hi Matt--
thanks for dropping! Though I admit that when I first started reading your comment, I nearly started to hyperventilate.... Good thing it was a joke.
Did you come up and talk to me after the session? If you did, I apologize for not connecting the dots and remembering who you were, and if you didn't, why not?
In any event, thanks very much for your kind words about my work. And you're right that I think of myself with regards to Mormonism as a sufferer of post-traumatic stress disorder, but I also think I want to get over it all and not feel so bothered by things. Though who knows what would happen if I ever went back to Taiwan....
No, I didn't talk to you after the session. Maybe next year.
Come by Sunstone Blog http://sunstoneblog.com/ every once in awhile. I see you have us as a link. I'm blogging there now; in fact, today I wrote a small bit about a Taiwan experience.
Have you left a comment there before? They'd love to have someone of your intelligence and experience weigh in with a comment every now and then. John and Jana Remy blog there, as you probably know.