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Until recently, outside of family, I was reluctant to discuss several significant topics in my life: alternative medicine, atheism, and our son's homosexuality. Oddly enough, I was hesitant to talk about these subjects because when I did, other people got all squirmy and I felt bad about making them uncomfortable. Kind of dopey, huh? I felt bad about seeing them uncomfortable.

For years our family has politely listened to Christian songs performed at public school winter concerts. Every morning on my Facebook News Feed page someone posts the 'On this day God wants you to know' app and I quietly continue scrolling. But it was at a wedding two weeks ago that I decided to stop worrying about other people's uneasiness - I just didn't realize it until today.

I had an acupuncture session this morning with my naturopath, Dr. Liz Herman. Each acupuncture pathway is associated with a pulse; we have twelve pulses, six in each wrist. Dr. Herman monitors these pulses to inform her to the state of my Chi, or circulating life energy. As she felt my pulses and inserted needles in various parts of my body she said seriously, "We have to keep your organs balanced. We don't want you dried out. We want to keep you moist and buoyant."

"Moist and buoyant," I chuckled! At that moment she inserted a needle at the base of my bottom left rib, the Liver Chi.

"Whoa!" she observed. I felt an intense itchiness at the point where the needle was and she said I had a mark, the size and shape of a croissant, with the exact redness and shininess of a third degree burn! Dr. Herman explained that something toxic was working its way free and that anger and repressed frustrations cause the Liver Chi to stagnate. When we are in perfect health, all the Chi energy runs harmoniously throughout the body.

I spent the next sixty minutes on my back, in a very relaxed state, thinking about what I was repressing and dying to see this elusive red mark. I caught myself quietly snoring and then out-of-the blue, a table conversation from the aforementioned wedding popped into my mind.

I don't follow any sports or teams, but since we live in Connecticut, a major topic of conversation these days is college basketball. I responded to the guy seated next to me that the only sport my husband faithfully watches is UCONN Women's Basketball, primarily because he likes the coaching philosophies of Geno Auriemma.

"Women's basketball? What's wrong with him? Is he gay, or something?" my tablemate sneered.

I don't think it's necessary to point out the stupidity of this comment, let alone the inappropriateness. However, I knew how embarrassed this guy's wife would have been if I had called him on it, so I just ignored the comment. I ignored the sexist, offensive comment so other people at the wedding, a joyous celebration, would not be uncomfortable. All weekend I thought about this. I let this guy get away with something that was wrong on so many levels - he had insulted women's sports teams, my husband and our gay kid. I didn't speak up and hold this man accountable. I contributed to a culture of silence that says it's not okay to make waves or swim against the tide. With whom was I more disgusted? How was I any different than the homophobic mother of our son's boyfriend who refuses to accept her son's sexual preference and his relationship with our amazing child?

We often choose silence because we dread awkward conversations. We fear them because experience has taught us that if we open up and are honest, bad things may happen. So we choose silence. As I stare at the ceiling of my naturopath's office and think about that flaming red 'croissant' on my left side, I realize bad things are happening inside of me, and that is the risk of not speaking up.

The calming CD and the soothing warmth of the little room help me drift away into a contemplative state. The "First they came" quotation attributed to Pastor Martin Niemoller comes to mind:

"First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for me,
and there was no one left to speak out for me."

Dr. Herman returns to the relaxing little room and removes my acupuncture needles. I have that euphoric post-acupuncture feeling as I drive home and realize, it's okay for people to feel uncomfortable. Introspection can be extremely uncomfortable, and so can honest conversation. But those uncomfortable moments force us to grow and to think. Aristotle wrote, 'It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.' I don't expect anyone to accept my beliefs, but just as our family sat politely through those Christians songs year after year, I expect courtesy in return.

Here's to harmonious Chi and my goal to become "moist and buoyant."

Velya Jancz-Urban
April 7, 2011