In my junior year of High School I had a Mormon girlfriend named Jenny. I would do anything for her. She was super kind and smart, had a great laugh and always had me thinking about something. I would go with her to her Temple up in the Oakland Hills where we would square dance together or play vollyball. We would take long walks, do of lots of math homework for Mr. DePasquale and generally live a Rated-G (sometimes PG!) existence.
So one evening we are sitting on her porch, probably after doing some volunteer thing for her church Ward, when she asked me to please pray. While she she would ask me to do that regularly, I remember her intensity that day. She was seriously struggling with me being “different” and I think in her mind that was because I was one of the only non-Mormons doing the things we were doing. (I now recognize that it was most likely because I was one of the very VERY few Black boys/men – all male (I NEVER saw any Black girls. Never!) and all similarly light-skinned as me. At the time I believe the Mormons were actively recruiting in Guatemala or El Salvador so there were occasional brown people in the mix, but only a few and always from some family that had converted before they got up to California.)
So we are sitting on her porch swing and I tell her that I will go home and reflect on the idea that Joseph Smith really did get a message from God and found some golden plates and Maroni came down and all of that. And… I did. But, I did it my way.
I drifted off to sleep with images of Star Child making fun of Sir Nose when I am surrounded by this… “presence”. I experience it as warmth and light but I am no longer alone in my room. I am no longer in my room. I am no longer. I do not perceive myself at all. Everything just is… and I am part of everything.
Astounded, I sit up in a cold sweat. “WTF was THAT?!?!” I think to myself.
It’s not real clear to me, but it is hard for me to believe that I went to sleep and school the next day. But maybe I did. Anyway, I remember sitting on Jenny’s porch swing in the evening talking to her about it. I was super happy because she asked me to do a thing, I did it… and something new was now here. I figured she would be happy and we could talk about her similar experience and how she interpreted what she went though. I knew she would have something interesting to say about her path and spirituality and I was eager to hear it!
But, no. That is not what happened at all. Instead she became very concerned. I ended up storming off her porch and going home after maybe 20 minutes of her telling me to watch out! That the thing I had experienced was not God but, quite possibly, could have been the Devil! Jenny instructed me to go home and pray to God to see Joseph Smith and beg for forgiveness for being led astray by evil.
I was stunned. What was this crazy girl TALKING ABOUT?!?!? There was no God around. There certainly was no White man walking with golden tablets and some silly cherubic, androgynous-presenting, White male “angel” with white wings in a golden outfit looking like they stepped off some Hollywood set of Greek debauchery floating in the sky. I remember being convinced that Jenny was insane for even suggesting stuff like that. All this time I thought she had been joking when she showed me childish, images from her religious texts. Did she really believe all that bullshit? Holy Hell! This woman was sick. And all her people must be cray-cray as well.
Anyway, I drift off to sleep and once again, I am in the presence of something. Only this time I hear a voice in my head that goes something like this;
“Do you have a question for me?”
My father comes from a strict African-American family and he taught me to ALWAYS be respectful of your elders. I was shocked when I experienced this and replied – to myself internally – “Ahh… no. I have nothing to ask.”
What I really meant by that was that all of my questioned had been answered. I was not trying to be disrespectful. I knew, deep down, what I knew. I did not need anything or anyone to convince me otherwise.
What, exactly, did I know? I knew that life was bigger than just me. I knew the universe had order and reason but that it was far faaaaaaar more complex than I would be able to understand at the time. I am reminded of the expression lots of Black kids hear; “Hush now. Grown folks talking’.” It was not my time to speak up. I did not need to know anything more than I already knew. I was good. In Sweden after a good meal when you are full and can not eat anymore, the host often asks if you would like another helping and you politely reply: Jag är mätt. I was full. I did not need anymore sustenance.
I spent the next few months going to every different kind of church/religious/meeting I could find. But that is a different story for another time. Suffice to say, I was then, as I am now, a convert. I’m good. I know who I am, I know what is going on around me. I see the universe for what it is and am and perfectly fine with it. No more explanation is required.