In those days, for a person like me who never considered himself anything other than a boy, being a homosexual (aka faggot, queer, homo, pansy) was a curse worse than death. Even though I had very little understanding of what it really meant, I was programmed to believe homosexuality was “bad.” I knew I didn’t want to be one.
Like migratory birds responding to an archetypal memory telling them where to go, young men respond, drawn to the mosh pit and the opportunity it offers to work out their emerging warrior energy.
In the Sacred Synergy, gender confusion is absent, and gender identity is honored. Male and female contribute equally. The key is the balance, an essential control in any good recipe, for too much of any one ingredient surely makes the dish go bad.
American evangelicals replaced the pale, weak, skinny, crucified Jesus of mid-evil Catholics with their own distorted image ~ a strapping, Hollywood handsome Jesus in clean blue robes holding a snowy lamb ~ a poster boy for their pro-war, middle class, capitalist, Western values. A kept man. A poser. Both images are lies.
There is no way the human imagination can fathom the ultimate, and the only way to catch a glimpse of it is by vanquishing one’s fear of the unknown.