"A kind of a telephone line through time..."

I'm struggling today. Spiritually, I feel neglected and impoverished. Ever since I came out 12 years ago, I've felt this gaping wound between my faith and my sexual orientation. Millions of queer people have been and are in the same boat and yet this situation feels like an isolated occurrence to me.  You'd think a gay, progressive church would be a welcoming refuge for someone like me. It's not. The truth is I've felt more love and genuineness from some of the most bigoted, misogynist, Southern men than I have leftist, Christian dykes. At least when the good old boy talks to you, he's being authentic. He may think you're going to hell but when he says hello and asks about your mom he's not bullshitting you. I could go on a whole separate rant about sincerity and the south and would probably make sweeping generalizations about the PNW and the south because I'm in a dark mood. From my vista, I look around and see spiritual strangers. I don't fit with the right-wing anymore and I don't have the special knock to get in the queer kids' club. No, my people lived thousands of years ago. I should have been an Essene. I'd spend my days talking to God in the desert and hammering away writing the Dead Sea scrolls---I would have been content with a quiet, mystical existence. The beauty of art and the written word is the tangible recording of our most human moments. Somebody somewhere has probably felt almost exactly what you are thinking or feeling. They might have lived centuries ago in a culture very different than yours but they can offer you something: solace, passion, hope, humility, gratitude, etc. The Indigo Girls said it best in their song Virginia Woolf, "And so it was for you, when the river eclipsed your life. And sent your soul like a message in a bottle to me and it was my rebirth." I may not have found my spiritual community in this present reality but I'm grateful God has given me a connection where at some level I belong and am understood.