I first discovered it completely on my own when I was about 13. I was sitting on the sofa reading a book. When I shifted positions, hmmm. What just happened? Bit of a zing there. Curious. Nobody had ever told me anything about this. I tried it again. Zing, again. Hey what was that? I sat still and tried to solve the mystery, and realized something else was going on in a particular locale where I'd never noticed anything before. Gee, I didn't know I had a pressure cooker built in there. This was weird. To this day I have no idea how, but I just knew instinctively that something had to get out. So I went into the bathroom, and 30 minutes later emerged wide-eyed and giggling. [excuse me, I have a quick staff meeting]
Okay, I'm back. Where was I? Oh yeah, getting in touch with myself. Well, as any normal boy would, I quickly became an expert. And soon ran into the full barrage of guilt from on high in Salt Lake, filtered through well-meaning, obedient but (I've since concluded) innocently clueless local leaders. So I did my best to refrain from hand to gland combat and went without for long stretches sometimes, but I never pulled it off completely. And the Church-sponsored guilt was incredible. Kimball's Mirage of Forgiveness set me back years in terms of spiritual confidence. Sometimes I still want to go buy a copy of that book just so I can burn one particular chapter atop a big pile of crumpled Kleenexes. Most Mormons don't know about Kip Eliason who killed himself out of Church-imposed guilt that he couldn't stop. Horrific. The Church deserved to pay every penny Eliason's dad sued it for.[excuse me again, now I have to go walk the dog]
Okay, back again. So the mission comes (oops) and goes, I make it through without a single "slip up" except for that one time when my MTC companion remarked the next morning about the little earthquake he thought he felt during the night (slight bunkbed tremor). I'm thinking wow, I must be Superman. Can I sustain this? Answer: LOL! Finally I get married and experience "the real thing", but guess what. I also discover that spouses of the Mormon female persuasion often grow up with even more unnecessary Church-sponsored guilt and hang-ups than the boys do. Fortunately I have coping skills. Said spouse's sanity eventually goes kablooey, and your humble correspondent finds himself single once again. And this time re-examining lots of things in light of little son who will someday be sitting on a sofa when something suddenly goes zing, and by that time I'd bloody well better be more equipped to deal with the issue (oops) than my dad and church leaders were.
[sorry for the interruption, I have to go rope the pony]
So I start reading and researching. What is really the basis for all this autoerotophobia? I'll spare you the details of the process, but the climax was finding a lengthy, thoroughly researched scholarly article about the entire history of official LDS treatment of The Big M. I learned that "official" pronouncements about it had been all over the map since the first mention in the 1870's which was right in line with the hysterical and hysterically false Victorian notions of the time, through the 1920's when Church publications were a lot less stiff about it and merely counseled parents to discuss it with their kids so it didn't get out of hand, and then the pendulum swung back again with the advent of Spencer Kimball, Mark Peterson, and Boyd Packer's seminal Little Factory speech which re-ignited a firestorm of new guilt in new generations of otherwise normal fine upstanding Peter Priesthoods, and now it seems that Church publications are going softer again. My hero-worshiping nephew says he's never heard a word about it in his incredibly conservative ward.[sorry for another interruption, I have to clean a rifle]
OK, back again. My conclusions from all this? Real true gospel truth doesn't fluctuate like that. Only possible logical conclusion? I had the bad luck to come along at a time when a handful of church leaders were force-feeding us all a diet of personal prejudice cloaked in the mantle of authority, masquerading as gospel truth despite the total absence of any Scriptural basis for it.Result for me? I won't beat around the bush. More loss of trust in LDS leaders and increased attention to identifying the philosophies of men mingled with scripture. The loss isn't complete, but the trust is now much more narrowly focused and placed. Outside that shrinking circle, I take full responsibility for my own judgments and conclusions, based on the best reasoning, study, and inspiration I can find. Oh, and while I am of course decorous, I have completely lost all that old paranoia and become the most laid-back, tolerant, open, frank, unshockable, unprudish person you will ever meet. SO much healthier.
And my final judgment now tells me that, as long as it doesn't become an obsessive addictive behavior, The Big M is a delightful part of being a boy. God's way of keeping us chaste until we're married (and after). Honestly, it seems to me a demonstration of the staggering creative genius of God; imagine how much He must love us, to give us the capacity to feel like that! And the intelligence to conceive of such a thing and then create it. Are there words to describe it? No! But what an incredible celebration! And it's portable, too! Not to mention heart-healthy and good for warding off prostate cancer. And how can we love others unless we love ourselves first, right? [excuse me, but darn it, that monkey just won't behave, I'm gonna have to spank it]
When I was a kid I was so frightened of even the mention of The Big M that I learned to lie to the bishop when he asked about it. You might say I learned to beat the bishop at his own game. Now, complete about face. Aforementioned little son is now not quite so little, he knows all about it, knows what to expect (well, theoretically), and knows he is in for a rollicking good time. Like tasting every flavor in a banana split in every cell of your body, a million times magnified. But warmer. He has none of the hang-ups or prudery I had, he is going to grow up happy and healthy and well-adjusted and confident in himself and delighted with this gift God gave him. He also knows that if any prying bishop asks him anything about this topic, he is to tell said bishop to butt out, he doesn't discuss it with anyone but his dad, and if said bishop has any more questions he's to talk to dad. And God help that bishop if he actually follows up with me.So that's the long & short of it from here. And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change the oil. And then practice the organ. And then the flute . . .
























