Sunday, August 12, 2018

My Naked Reality...Undressing Shame



On the final morning of my wedding anniversary trip to Como Maalifushi in the Republic of the Maldives, I opened my e-mail to see the following message from a family member: 

“Anyway, I see many of your postings on face book.  I recall some of the beautiful nature pictures of flowers and capturing God’s beautiful earth.  Recently, the focus seems changed.  BUT it also reminds me to pray very much for all of us to be what God has meant for us to be.  God has given you abilities…. I care.”

For those who are not on Facebook or for those who don’t engage in social media connections with frequency, allow me to make the following point of clarification.  At this romantic island resort – the location of Kim and my honeymoon one year ago – I have enjoyed sublime moments of bliss with my wife.  At times, we have elected to share these with photos of sunsets, turtles, sharks, sailboats, and yes, us celebrating each other’s beautiful bodies.  Growing up in the oppressive environment that sought to crush my spirit for nearly 5 decades, I am, for the first time being who I “was meant to be” – naked, in the garden unashamed. 

I love sailing.  I love the ocean.  I love the sun and the dance of light across each cell of my being.  I love the feel of skin lightly pricked with the sun’s rays.  I love the pulse of the waves caressing each part of my body.  And, without question, I love sharing this experience with a woman who sees and loves me. 

Religion corrupted beaches for me at an early age.  I associated beaches with beautiful, lightly clad women and men celebrating life and freedom.  From nudists on the California coast to surfers in Hawaii, I loved to see how ‘others’ were able to enjoy what I was conditioned to despise.  Because for me, the beach and ocean were precisely the places of temptation for which Matthew 5:28 was my eternal indictment.  I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”  As a teenager, I fantasized that one day one of these beautiful women would find my pimply-faced visage attractive (or at least sympathetic) and I would enjoy what seemed to be beyond my fate.  

And what religion defiled, marriage obliterated.  While I begged and pleaded for physical beauty to be a shared value – heightened by my incapacitation from my severe accident in 1988 and my loss of use of my legs – I was bombarded with lies at every level.
  •         ‘Love’ what’s on the inside regardless of what’s on the outside;
  •         Men who look at good-looking women are ‘superficial’;
  •        ‘Physical beauty’ fades so you have to diminish its importance;
  •       “You should” look at me the way you look at her; and, worst of all,
  •        “It's normal to fantasize when you're having sex."
And here’s where the lie metastasizes into the cancer that destroyed much of my life.  I gave most moments of my life to the reverential service of my ‘partner’.  The utility I represented was appreciated and frequently acknowledged.  But I was castigated for desiring what I …, well…, like breathing…, DESIRED!  And on the few occasions where to possibility of shared aesthetic and erotic values emerged (and they did on three occasions in three decades), the brief interlude of physical prioritization ended with actual contempt and anger.  “I hate being controlled by exercise and what I have to eat,” was the benediction on effort before apathy shrouded life’s beautiful potential.

So back to this morning’s e-mail.  Ironically, I spent years making my life look like the beautiful image I desired.  A review of my Facebook posts shows hundreds of images curated from thousands in which lighting, angles and vistas were curated to highlight the natural beauty I sought to celebrate.  I’m beginning to experience a life where the “ideal” and “reality” match.  I have a wife who celebrates my reverence for her - beauty and all.  And I choose to celebrate it! 

But now I’m going to get a lot more blunt (and controversial).  I’m sick and tired of living in a world where a flower, a mushroom, a sunset, or a puppy can be celebrated but a photograph I take of Kim in her beautiful essence or the two of us together “crosses the line”.  People who once shared my life and family are incapable of “liking” the posts of my life on Facebook while having no problem “liking” nature posts from my family, my friends, or complete strangers.  And why?  Is it really because they find the content offensive?  And if so, why?  At 51 years of age, I am finally celebrating my beautiful body aided in large part by a wife who baffles me each morning with a smile and an affirmation about how much she loves “my beautiful body.”  And I’ve walked into enough venues around the world where I’ve seen men’s heads whip around in admiration (and lust) for Kim, seen some women inspired by her beauty and seen the cruelty of those who have contempt for the same to know that my beautiful wife is… beautiful.  Do they truly despise me or us or do they wish to defile what they’ve decided is their justification for suboptimal physical expression of inner beauty?

When Kim and I work out together most mornings of our life – hitting the gym between 5 and 7 most days or riding bike for a few hours – we’re not obsessing about fitness to fit a “social ideal”.  When we juice celery and kale, are we “denying” ourselves or are we choosing to feel vital and unbloated?  What we’re doing is celebrating the amazing beauty of the gift of living and doing everything we can to honor and reverence ourselves and each other by presenting each other with the gift of beauty.  Kim in a bikini is stunning.  Kim, as “God meant her to be” is even more breath-taking.  I’ll leave Kim’s view on me to her post if she feels like it needs a comment.

And my journey isn’t an easy one.  I struggle most days with the fact that my life and values were diminished and disregarded.  In every day, I’m exorcising the demons of shame, guilt, and fantasy.  For the first time in my life, I’m able to have intimate honesty and transparency with my wife and lover who compassionately seeks to mend what was broken.  And while the God of my childhood and much of my culture can only trade on shame and guilt to entrap loyalty and adoration – I’m falling into the loving embrace of a Universe that constantly reminds me that to Fully Live is to be beautiful - birds, bees, bosoms, breasts, butts, bears, bison, black-eyed susans, barley, barramundi, and all!



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