Truth vs. Happiness

A question often comes to my mind. There are times when it seems, to me, that to at least some extent, "truth" may be in conflict with "happiness". It seems like I have to choose between what is comfortable, easy, happy, familiar, or fun, and what is true, or what I believe to be true.

Those are hard decisions, no matter which way you look at it. Maybe you believe the church and the doctrines of the gospel to be "true" but want to pursue a romantic and sexual partnership with a member of the same sex, believing that will make you "happy". Maybe you are afraid to alienate yourself from your family and think you'll be socially "unhappy" without the church, but you believe that "truth" indicates the church is not what it says it is. Either way, you confront an apparent choice: truth or happiness?

Now, that's not to say your perceptions are always accurate, and most often I think you'll find things are not quite as dichotomous as you originally thought. So you may not actually be making as stark a choice as you first expect.

And in my opinion, truth must necessarily lead to happiness in the sense that you can only be happy with yourself as long as you respect yourself and believe you are living in some consistency with what you believe to be true. That kind of happiness isn't a bubbly, "hunky dory" view of life. It's being at peace with yourself and having some confidence that you are living with integrity, even if you must accept some things you hadn't thought you previously would or must let go of some idealistic perspectives you once held close for your own comfort.

Then there's the gospel/doctrinal perspective: if the gospel is, indeed, the "truth", then if you live the truth, life may or may not be "happy" the exact way you figured it should be, but in the end, this is a blip in your existence, and the eternal consequences will outshine what you have sacrificed in this life, probably more than you can possibly comprehend now.

From an LDS perspective: do you stay in the church because you believe it to be true, or because it has brought you happiness? Is one reason better than the other? Did you leave the church because you didn't believe the doctrines or because you were unhappy among "the saints"? Is one reason better than the other?

Or in life in general: do you treat people with kindness because it's just the right thing to do, a 'true' principle? Or do you do it only when it makes your world easier to live in? Do you choose to believe an urban myth, like faith-promoting stories, because there's no harm in believing something fabricated as long as it makes life a little brighter? Or do you prefer to know the truth about life, even at the expense of heart-warming myths, so you can face life with eyes wide open?

In my estimation, the question remains, as far as your motives are concerned: which do you choose? Truth or happiness?

Bunch of Oversensitive Homos

I've thought about commenting on this before, but I didn't want to alienate anyone or hurt those who are going through genuinely emotionally difficult times. But I just have to say: male homos tend to be hypersensitive and emotional compared to their "straight" counterparts, and it can get really old after a while.

I hope it doesn't sound like I'm harping or belittling in saying this, though. Many of you are going through pains I am not and may not fully understand. You are suffering, and some of that suffering comes out in your conversation. I mean no disrespect to your pain or your frustrations. They are real, and they deserve respect. I'm just stating my frustration.

I have several "straight" friends, and I find it remarkably refreshing to hang out with them in one aspect in particular: the marked drop in drama. I'd like to experience that with my not-so-"straight" friends as well, but maybe that's asking too much?

To be honest, I don't think gay men are doing themselves a favor at all when they start bickering in tones of adolescent insecurity. It certainly does little for the defense that we are just as emotionally and/or mentally healthy as the next guy. Most people would, correct or not, take it as a sure sign we are, in fact, nothing of the sort.

There are some interesting--even fascinating--discussions here in the moho blog world. I enjoy open, frank discussions. But I find the emotionality fascinating in the train wreck sense. Maybe it's just because most bloggers all know each other better than I do? So it truly is a more "personal" discussion for them than it is for me? I just don't understand the apparent hypersensitivity I see in some of these discussions. The thinly-disguised jabs. The insults trying to pass as wit. I'm not sure whether to feel sorry for the people who feel the need to constantly resort to that, or tell them to grow up and be respectful of others even in disagreement, or to laugh at the comedy of it, like an emotional version of a Three Stooges routine.

I mean, adults everywhere get defensive and act and speak in immature and disrespectful ways. It's certainly not unique to people who experience homosexual attractions. But it's the prevalence of the insecure, overreactive, pubescent adolescent tone that wears on me after a while.

So are we mostly mature adults, men, or are we allowing ourselves to be dominated by our insecure, adolescent personas, especially in the blog world where it feels like we're somehow less accountable or more masked? Sometimes I wonder.

Graphic Blogging

There's a recent discussion in the moho blog world about how appropriate it is to post pictures of half-naked men to get your point across. The bulk of the discussion I'm aware of is on Keep Changing, an entry titled Showing Skin. As you can read there, some bloggers are concerned because they would like to continue reading blogs, but they don't feel safe because some moho blogs contain images which, to be blunt, turn them on and trigger them to continue looking for provocative images. Because of this discussion, I decided to finally post some thoughts I've been having.

I posted what some have described as a somewhat graphic description of a locker room experience in Nobody's Bulletproof. Actually, that was toned down from what I might have written. I didn't see a need to be outright graphic because my intended audience didn't need that, and it wasn't the main thrust of the entry. I wanted to describe the experience accurately without pretending it wasn't as charged as it was, but I didn't need to be pornographic. Even so, a couple of friends have described that entry as reading like soft erotic fiction (though those same people also indicated how much they enjoyed reading it). *grin and shrug* What can you do? I thought about putting a disclaimer at the beginning of that post for those who are easily triggered to consider skipping it, but two factors stopped me from doing that:

1) I don't want to make myself out to be a babysitter and like to think that people are perfectly capable of deciding not to read further if they perceive something potentially triggering in what is to come, which I think I gave my reader ample opportunity to do.

2) I don't want other visitors to my blog to read such a disclaimer and suppose that most of us are compulsively out of control in our behaviors and incapable of speaking openly and maturely on certain subjects without it leading us to "act out".

However, I do try to be sensitive to this very thing. When posting about true beauty, I posted a picture of a pair of very attractive Abercrombie Models. I found a picture I think is indicative of their brand of attractiveness but edited it to make it a little less "charged". Then I contrasted it with a picture of President Hinckley and his brand of attractiveness. So though I did show a couple of hot guys, I think the context defused most any homoerotic charge. And believe me, in searching for Abercrombie models, there were a couple of pictures I thought about using which showed more skin and illustrated the message, but in the end, I found the one I used to be just as effective but without the flesh.

I try to consider my audience and try not to alienate that audience and to be aware of sensitivities. I also simply have to consider whether I am part of another blogger's audience. I have decided that some authors' blogs are not for me. They don't "speak to me" and seem relatively out of line with what I believe and value, so I'm just not part of their audience, and they can go on posting whatever they want unbeknownst to me. I've tried to learn to make those calls for myself, while showing sensitivity to my readers as well.

Mohot

I just had to share this: a moho acquaintance of mine recently referred to a mutual mohomie of ours as "mohot", and I think I pretty much love it. Sometimes I feel especially endeared to my mohomies.

I Dreamed of Conflict

I had a dream many years ago, before my mission, which was brief and simple but profoundly burned itself into my memory and stood out powerfully in my mind immediately following it and for some time afterwards, but I didn't understand what it meant, if anything, at the time.

The dream as I remember it:

I was walking through the halls of the local LDS Institute of Religion building which I considered my home away from home, surrounded by friends. We were walking together, past the paintings and classrooms which had become so familiar to me during my time attending the university. We were walking in a crowd, together, laughing, having a grand time. The funny thing was that I was the only male. I was in the middle, surrounded by my female friends. It was a fairly comical sight, actually.

Some of these girl friends were very clear in their interest in me, others were content just being friends, and I was just enjoying their company and not wanting to look for more. I loved and valued their friendship. These were friends I really enjoyed. But I felt a vague disinterest I couldn't explain.

We rounded the corner of the hall towards the front door of the Institute. But somehow, I found myself drawn to another doorway which had gone unnoticed by the others, and I wandered away from the merry-making crowd of young women. I went through this doorway and out onto a moonlit veranda, surrounded by lush vegetation and a warm, tropical breeze. It was beautiful, paradisiacal. I felt at home and at peace, yet strangely solitary. I enjoyed the rest, the brief time by myself, but also wished I could share this place with friends.

The door back into the Institute seemed distant now. Vague. Undesirable after this gorgeous veranda. I didn't want to go back in. This place was too amazing.

I heard a whisper in the distance, undiscernable. I strained to listen, and somewhere in the breeze, I began to understand the sound was distant singing. It was a full chorus, angelic in tone. As I peered intently through the rich, green foliage of the lush trees, I caught a faint glimpse of the location from which the singing emanated. The sound entranced me as I realized it was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing exultant hymns from Temple Square, distant in a valley below.

This only seemed to accentuate my deep feeling of isolation in spite of this paradise I was in. My heart was wrenched as I yearned to be where those voices were. I eagerly sifted through every potential opening in the trees for a path to the Tabernacle to be where I now longed to be. Though I was deeply torn between this peaceful paradise and the joyful celebration in the valley below, I was further frustrated and agonized by the fact that I could find no way into that valley. There was no path. There was no way to join the jubilee. There was nobody to help me. Nobody to share the experience with. They had all gone their way when I wandered through the door to the veranda, and they were probably already there.

As the chorus swelled to its most jubilant and glorious climax, my heart seemed to tear apart completely as I felt no way to be a part of it, and I fell to my knees and sobbed uncontrollably as I wondered why I wanted to be there so badly and why I could not get there from this amazingly beautiful place.

I woke up, face wet with tears and feeling despondent and lonely. I think I journaled the dream, but I don't know where I wrote it. If I find it, maybe I'll update this to correct anything I remember incorrectly, but that's the dream as I remember it. I had no idea what to make of it. It didn't make sense. It seemed random but deeply significant at the same time.

Probably 5-6 years later, after I had not thought of this dream for several years, the persistent nature of my attractions to members of the same sex and the probability that they weren't a phase of curiosity sunk in. I started dealing with things head-on. I started really trying to come to terms with this part of me and reconciling it with the gospel and the church. During one of my particularly reflective times, this dream came back like a flash, and the meaning was, suddenly, starkly clear. I had some choices to make, and they were going to be some of the hardest I'd ever face.

Holland's Sincerity Weakened by Editors

In the church's most recent publication on the subject of homosexuality, entitled Helping Those Who Struggle with Same-Gender Attraction, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (and one of my long-time favorites), has taken another step towards sensitizing the members of the church to the issue and helping them realize how difficult it is for many who experience same-gender attraction to feel like they're truly part of the church family.

I especially appreciate the personalized opening regarding an interview with a twenty-something man in which Elder Holland assures him that if he is keeping the law of chastity like anyone else, he has no cause for concern about his worthiness and can rest assured that he has a place in the kingdom and hope for a bright future with all the blessings of the gospel.

Because I did like this article, it's a little hard for me to even bring up the following because I don't wish to detract from the good the article can do. I grow weary of nay-sayers harping on sincere attempts to help, but there's something dangerously subtle in the layout of the article in the Ensign that I have to bring up, if only because I doubt Elder Holland would have wanted it done as it was.

Some editor missed the boat tragically and terribly. Maybe Elder Holland himself chose the excerpts he wanted highlighted next to the illustrations in the magazine, but I would guess he did not. The points that were highlighted were sadly indicative of a deep lack of understanding regarding what those of us who actually experience this need to hear from our fellow church members.

I think it would have been beautiful to see the following statement highlighted:

"I ache for those who do not understand that every blessing offered by God is available to anyone who obeys the laws upon which those blessings are predicated (see D&C 130:20–21). No one who lives the gospel should despair."

Or maybe,

"In saying this, let me make it clear that attractions alone, troublesome as they may be, do not make one unworthy. The First Presidency has stated, 'There is a distinction between immoral thoughts and feelings and participating in either immoral heterosexual or any homosexual behavior.'"

Or even,

"Above all, keep your lines of communication open. Open communication between parents and children is a clear expression of love, and pure love, generously expressed, can transform family ties." (emphasis added)

What was, in fact, highlighted? Aside from the blurb about the church's new pamphlet, the two highlighted paragraphs in this article directed not to those of us who experience the attractions but to those desiring to help us were:

"At the heart of God's plan is the begetting of children. Adam and Eve were commanded to 'be fruitful, and multiply.' We are to follow them in marrying and providing physical bodies for Heavenly Father's spirit children."
(next to a picture of Adam and Eve and family)

and

"Planting a garden with strong, healthy plants will help keep weeds under control. Likewise, if we fill our lives with the spiritual nourishment God has provided, we can more easily gain control over our inclinations."

Who made this call? Who decided to draw attention away from his suggestions to friends and family and instead emphasize, first and foremost, a reminder that they were Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, and second, the perceived admonition that I, as one who experiences same-gender attraction, avoid anything and anyone remotely homo and that my inclinations must be controlled?

I didn't mind Elder Holland's mention of these principles (in the form he gave them, not my brashly paraphrased version). When giving counsel, you must lay a doctrinal framework upon which that counsel is built.

But was this article just another thinly disguised sermon to us passed off as counsel to our loved ones, or do we have here a tragic example of priestcraft in our church publications? Somewhere in between? I don't know, but I sincerely hope this was not Elder Holland's decision and that he finds and has a heart-to-heart with whoever was responsible for trying to turn his article into another admonition to "strugglers" rather than a sincere attempt to present balanced advice to our friends and family. Please?

I can handle it. I'll get over it. I can look past it to the message I believe he was trying to portray. Like I said, I don't think this is Elder Holland's doing, but regardless, I just don't know how many more of these little "reminders" we as an already marginalized group in the church can take before we lose hope that church members truly are willing to take a break from reminding us the ideal is heterosexual marriage and children (do people really believe we do not already have this present in our minds?) long enough to let us know they truly are trying to understand our dilema and not just reminding themselves of what we must do so they can remember to crack the whip, but perhaps a little more gently?

No Homosexuals in Iran!

As I warmed up at the gym, I watched the news on TV as President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran proclaimed, over a podium at Columbia University, the following:

"In Iran, we don't have homosexuals, like in your country. We don't have that in our country. In Iran, we do not have this phenomenon. I don't know who's told you that we have it."


I didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity or vomit at the wretchedness of the statement. Of course there are Iranians attracted to members of their same gender. Cultural circumstance and environment might, in theory, not foster certain developmental "causes" of homosexuality as our culture does, so assuming environmental factors have some bearing, I could accept the possibility that there may be fewer there... But certainly risk of exile or death would have something to do with the scarcity of openly homosexual individuals.

If there are none, who are these people?

Maybe my culture and society aren't so bad, relatively. Not perfect, but not so bad.

Orientational Ping Pong

So I've been kind of all over the place lately. For example, last night at the gym (hey, it's one of the few places around here I people-watch, so I bring it up), I noticed more than one attractive girl. Weird. Normally, I mainly or exclusively notice the guys, or even if I notice the girls, I'm uninterested. But lately, I've been kind of interested, here and there and off and on. Go fig.

Recently, there was Office Store Boy, then there was Swimmer Boy, but then in comes Brazilian Beauty to steal the show. Crazy. Then, last night, at the gym, I was walking out of the lockerroom towards the co-ed sauna/hot tub area, and the guy right in front of me had just low-riding trunks on and a fairly nice physique. I thought briefly about the appeal of embracing him from behind but shrugged it off and went to sweat in peace in the sauna. Not long after I sat down in said box of heat torture, this girl walks up and into the hot tub in a yellow bikini, and I seriously could not take my eyes off of her. Now, I didn't feel the same charge I usually feel seeing a really hot guy, but I actually shifted in my seat to see her as long as possible, to just enjoy her beauty.

But wait...I don't like boobs and hips...what's happening to me? I wasn't "turned on" like a straight guy probably would have been, but I was, in fact, intrigued. OK, so I've gone from disinterested to intrigued. How curious. How queer. OK, queer's not quite the right word here.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'm jumping on some look-at-me-I'm-straight-now bandwagon. I still enjoy me some attractive male eye-candy. But in the last couple of weeks, I can actually think of at least 4 girls who have actually captured my attention even in rooms full of attractive guys.

In the gym yesterday, looking around, I was bouncing all over the place, thinking this or that girl was the most attractive person in the room, then this or that guy. No, maybe it's that girl. No, this guy. Orientational ping pong.

So maybe I'm in a transitional phase to hetero-ness. Or...perhaps I'm just that horny. I suppose time will tell.

Incidentally, a crusty old man peeked at me through the shower stall crack and then again while I stood spinning my swim suit dry. I don't particularly enjoy being gawked at naked. Probably partially because I'm not sure I trust the taste of someone who would find this frame worth getting caught gawking, but in any case, I recommend getting peeped at by dirty old men as a remarkably effective form of temporary reorientation therapy. *shudder*

Nobody's Bulletproof

A knuckle-biting experience, both exhilarating and unnerving, which I had last week and briefly referred to in my entry about Office Store Boy breaking my heart:


The lockerroom, which used to be a den of anxiety and terror to me, is now a normal part of daily routine that holds little trouble or temptation, despite the occasional pleasant view I may acknowledge as a thing of beauty and from which I then move on (hey, it's a benefit of being the way I am--what am I going to do? Use the ladies' lockerroom? Run home, 15 minutes away, just to shower? I don't think so). Anyway, most of the time, I don't feel particularly "gay" in the locker room. It's just part of working out. So you straight guys out there who are getting all weirded out, don't. Chances are you do nothing for me anyway. Most don't.

Eh, if you just found great comfort in those last two lines, you may want to stop reading here. Every once in a while, yes, you're bound to be checked out by some homo. Let's just get that out in the open. Deal with it. Straight guys are even often glancing here or there for whatever reason, I've noticed, so you're not fooling anyone but yourself if you think only homos sneak peeks. Even so, I sometimes catch some guy checking me out, and it most often grosses me out to be looked at that way. So believe me when I say it's a little awkward to continue describing this experience, but the show must go on for the benefit of humanity.

The story (as written the night of the encounter):

At the gym tonight, I left the shower to go back to my locker, unsuspecting of what I was about to experience. I was walking along in my towel, humming to myself like I tend to do when life is mundane or blandly content. As I rounded the corner by my locker, I faced initial dismay and a moment of frustration at one of the more annoying, sometimes horrific, lockerroom experiences: the naked man bent over right in front of my locker.

Generally speaking, no guy wants to find some drippy butt toweling off between him and his locker. Especially the kind of nasty, hairy butt which suddenly makes manflesh remarkably repulsive and makes you want to grab a woman and kiss her as soon as humanly possible to try to seal some of the newly-sparked hetero inside before it has a chance to wane.

However, my dismay immediately evaporated upon realizing this was no such butt. This butt was young, probably early-to-mid twenties. It was surprisingly well-shaped. Smooth. Grabbable. It was attached to a tall, lean swimmer's body with beautiful skin. At the top was a very pleasing face and silky brown hair that screamed to be tousled vigorously.

Normally, I have little trouble maintaining composure or minding my own business, even in the face of remarkable beauty or, dare I say, hotness. And I haven't been especially hot to trot lately. I've been in kind of a downswing, actually, where the old hormones are concerned. But in this instant, as I choked on the "Pardon me" I timidly squeaked out to this example of pure physical beauty, and he said a quiet "sorry" and moved his stuff out from in front of my locker, I actually felt weak in the knees, and I forgot that I wasn't hot to trot. I actually thought about sending signals to let him know I was impressed...you know, just to see if he was "family".

Of course, the thought of actually finding out if he's family is strangely pointless because even if some part of my mind fantasizes about him being flattered, I'm not about to do anything about it.

But in that moment, I wished I wanted to do something about it. When he lingered in his nakedness, seemingly giving me every opportunity to take in the beauty before me, I wondered why I should deny him the satisfaction. But no, it's creepy to stare, and this is exactly what everyone dreads in the lockerroom: having somebody actually lusting after you when all you want is to take care of business and move on with your day. ...but he didn't seem to be moving with any haste. Maybe he wanted me to look or at the very least didn't mind at all. Maybe he wanted to send a subtle signal, standing there in all his glory not two feet from me and seemingly oblivious to my conflict. He was patting his towel on his neck and just leaning his pelvis on out there, accentuating his...abs.

I suddenly felt very out of my element. I felt a little ill-equipped to withstand should it become clear he was interested. What if he did do something to indicate an interest or struck up a conversation? Would I have the strength and willpower to resist the drive I was feeling? I told myself 'yes, of course,' but I'd never been so unsure. It was unnerving. I warned myself in my mind, "See? This is how it can start. This is how people get into trouble. Are you so strong as to be impervious? Are you invincible?"

Don't get me wrong, I can't even fathom hooking up with some random guy, no matter how beautiful a physique he may have. But were he to strike up a conversation, and were that to lead to another conversation, then to going out sometime or him teaching me some swimming methods or whatever, and then if I found out he was family, then hanging out alone...at what point would I put the brakes on and decide this was going in the wrong direction?

Fortunately, I think I must generally send strong enough "Don't even bother" or "I'm ultra-repressed and unaware of my own sexuality" signals that people don't try. I have heard about guys meeting and ending up making out the same day, but I just don't get that mentality. ...but tonight was a glimpse into it, perhaps?

I suppose what I'm getting at is that I have rarely felt that way, so tempted to give in to lust if the opportunity had presented itself. So vulnerable and caught off guard. So seduced by physical beauty. So uncomposed. I still can't imagine anything happening, even if it should happen again. And I imagine if there's ever a next time, I'll be that much more ready to handle it. But that's because I care about determining boundaries and triggers because, as tonight's experience has reminded me, nobody's bulletproof, and though mistakes and learning processes are a part of life, I'd rather not do something in the excitement of a moment on which I would later look back with regret...but if you're going to regret something, regret something with a stud like that! ....no, bad me!

Fatherly Tenderness

More thoughts I jotted down while in the Brazilian Beauty's ward:

----------------------
It's interesting where my thoughts have been flying. For example, as I saw the bishop's councilor gently interact with his little daughter who ventured up to join him on the stand, I thought of the joy of being a father, and the tenderness which many fathers show, the tenderness I think I would enjoy with a little one. I remembered when a father of a kid from another ward in my stake gently ran his fingers across my back, in that churchy way people sometimes do, during a devotional on a youth temple trip and how significant that seemed at the time that a fatherly figure would do that. It occurred to me back then how rare male touch was and how soothing it felt.
---------------------

It's kind of an incomplete thought, but it was interesting to me. My desire to be or appreciation for that kind of a father and my appreciation for the dissolution of traditionally extreme gender roles was deep, and I was full of gratitude for a society which is more amenable than it used to be to men expressing emotion and tenderness and not balking at their perceived weakness because of it.

Brazilian Beauty at Church

What I wrote in sacrament meeting this last Sunday:

I almost didn't go to church today after sleeping in and lacking a lot of motivation, but I decided, last minute, to find a late sacrament meeting. After exploring for quite a while, I finally found one.

[A girl whose name shall be ommitted] from Brazil just set my mind on a really interesting track. Until she walked up front to bear her testimony, my eyes were mostly on the guys in the ward. Oh, there are many beautiful people in the ward, but only one gender was really catching my interest, and it wasn't the "opposite" one. OK, not entirely true. I did notice a few of each, and there were actually a few girls who caught my interest during the meeting, but funny enough, the most captivating person--once he started speaking--was possibly the bishop's councilor. Dang. Married. With kids. Can't want that. Oh well, I can just enjoy beauty without coveting it.

But [this girl] walked towards the front, and I could not take my eyes off of her. Her face, her hair, her dress, the way she walked. Class, style, elegance, humility, confidence... When it was her turn at the pulpit, her testimony and general demeanor and countenance matched or exceeded her physical beauty. Her testimony was simple, sincere, and beautiful. Her clothing was stylish and modest. Her hair was long and silky brown. She shared a personal story about her little sister, and I was captivated by the genuine, uplifting simplicity of her story, her words, her expression. I wanted, in that moment, nothing else but to get to know her better, to get closer physically as well as emotionally, and I wanted to give everything a chance to "blossom", if you will. In short, I was captivated.

I thought, "Yeah, but once she's done, the guys will all take center stage again, and she'll be lost in a sea of strong jaw lines and athletic-framed muscularity." But unlike the usual reaction, I didn't want them to. I didn't want the guys to drown her out. And what's more -- they didn't. Even long after she sat down, I knew that if I could ask out one person in that ward, I wanted it to be her. She's considerably younger than I am, I'm afraid, and I can't imagine she's not already taken, but maybe it's worth going against everything I believe about dating younger girls for the sake of simply dating a girl at all.

Well, then this other girl who had eyed me a couple of times from across the room got up to bear her testimony. I don't like to critique people's testimonies, so without going into detail, she said and did some terribly girly things, and I almost lost any taste for everything feminine. Then I thought of [the Brazilian girl], and the hetero kicked right back into gear. And I liked it.

Maybe I'll go to that ward again...


Oh, I did pay attention in church, too, and it was actually one of the best sacrament meetings I've been to in a LONG time, not just an interestingly hetero episode.

Emotional Dance

Breathtaking.





Or you could settle for the cheap knock-off on that ridiculous dance show.