Apart Yet Not Afar

Well, it has happened at last - I have come home from college. You remember how homesick I was when I first started this blog? How this whole thing kept me sane because I could commit my feelings to someone elses' eyes, albeit unseen? Well, now I'm doing the same thing again - but longing for a different home.

The move home has been hard, but as a result I've discovered something that I probably should have put together years ago. I think I knew it for a lot of that time, but I never really articulated fully, even to myself.

You know the old phrase "Home is where the heart is," right? It's about that saying that I wish to write today. However, I would make an addition. Consider it like one of those old logic problems: "Caius is a man, men are mortal, therefore Caius is mortal." Well, here's my spin off of Caius. "Home is where the heart is, the heart is with loved ones, therefore the home is with loved ones."

Does that make sense?

I've been with my parents and siblings in our beautiful mountain valley home, sitting by a fire and drinking wassail and watching a movie or reading books from Dad's library. I've also been with them in a room in the Holiday Inn on the edge of town, with next to no belongings and no house to go to. I've even seen them out in the wilderness, when all of us were living in a tent, wearing torn jeans and old sweatshirts and smelling like sweat and campfire smoke. But no matter where we were, I was happy - because I loved them anyway.

I have been with my fondest friends in the comfort of our apartments, laughing and enjoying good food (usually courtesy of Adrianne) and listenening to Brittany or Adrianne singing or Katie playing heavenly strains on the harp. I have also been with them when we were all makeup-less and wearing pajama bottoms in the middle of the day, hoping that none of the young men from the ward would choose that moment to call on us. I have seen them in snow and rainstorms, on campus and off, and while hiking up temple hill in the middle of January. But no matter where we were, I was happy - because they were with me.

Whether it be my friends, my kin, my parents, my brothers, my sister - it won't matter where we are. If they are with me, I am home.

And once you have made your home with someone, and bound up your heart so closely with theirs, something happens. No matter where you go, even when you are alone, there is a part of them that will be with you. It is as it is written in a poem my Grandma Pullan shared with me:

"Go thou thy way and I'll go mine
Apart yet not afar
Only a thin veil hangs between
the pathways where we are.
'For God keeps watch 'tween thee and me'
So never fear.
One arm round thee and one round me
will keep us near."

See? Isn't that an amazing blessing? Those that we love, though apart from us, are never far away. This even goes for those who have parted from this mortal world. I know that God keeps watch between me and my great grandparents who have passed on to their next habitation, just as he does between me and my fond ones who have parted from each other until next fall. And better still is the blessed promise that one day we will no longer be kept apart, but will be reunited before the Lord.

"I know not where thy road my lead
nor the way of mine
but coming to the judgement seat my soul shall meet with thine.
'And God keeps watch 'tween thee and me'
I'll whisper there.
He blesseth thee, he blesseth me,
and we are near."

'Til next time my friends - and may He always keep watch over thee and me.   

Raindrops and Hyacinth

Well, it seems that the old saying is come true. April showers we have had aplenty, and the spring flowers begin to emerge. The robins are back, singing in the tree branches and on telephone poles; t-shirts and pastel church dresses are becoming less and less endangered every day; the grass is rising greener, and the wind is blowing gentle from the East. Spring, my friends, is upon us. But, as mentioned before, that does tend to bring with it the occasional cloudburst - as was the case yesterday.

The day before, Sunday, was absolutely beautiful - but Monday dawned cold and gray. Everything outside was wet when the apartment woke, as though it had been raining earlier, and before too long it began to rain again. With all the anxiety and pressure of finals and the emotional ache of approaching partings weighing heavy to begin with, it did not improve my morale to look outside and see the dark, rain-laden clouds hanging low over the valley. The morning didn't change anything, filled only with the tense silence that accompanies rigorous study.

Later that afternoon, I hurried up to campus to take one of my finals and found myself wanting for cheer, feeling alone and troubled by many things. Feeling the need to see something beautiful so as to improve my thoughts, I went and stood for a time in front of the fine arts center, allowing myself to be rained on and looking at the blossoming tulips that grew there.

I remembered the way in which a friend had put things into perspective for me. The end of finals was right around the corner - and really, with all the hard study and reading I had done for my classes throughout the semester, I was more prepared than I thought I was. I would soon go home and have the best of summers, filled with family and friends, sunshine and sprinklers, petunias and popcicles, hard work and hard play... Then we would return to BYU and have a semester just as wonderful as this one has been. And after that, we would go to Jerusalem and have the experience of a lifetime... How blessed I have been! And how blessed I shall be! To think of it that way, I could not keep myself from being comforted.

As I came away from the tulip bed, I had a thought. It was spontaneous and out of character, but I acted on it anyway - I took off one of my shoes and tested the ground. It wasn't all that cold. The earth and pavement were warm, and the rainwater was fresh and cool. So without further ado, I removed my other shoe and set off for the JKB walking barefoot in the rain.

It was good and wholesome and healing - like new rain should be. The cool water splashed over my feet, and the still-falling raindrops delicately annointed my uncovered face and hands. The whole world was filled with the smell of moist earth and growing grass and - as I bent over one of the flower planters - the sweet perfume of fresh hyacinth. Every hue was brightened by the rain, turned by the storm's magical touch into the world's finest treasures - emerald grasses, jewel-bright tulips and pansies and hyacinth, ghost-white flowering tree buds, and paving stones of shining silver. And there I was in the middle of it - bare headed and shoeless and smiling.

Yes, it was probably not wise. Yes, I got funny looks - more than my usual share. Yes, I could have caught my death out there, and yes, the bottoms of my pants got soaked, and yes, my feet were nearly numb by the time I got to the appropriate building.

I don't care.

For a few moments, I was able to leave behind everything that was weighing me down. I was able to remove the intervening layers and make myself a part of the magic that was nature. I was at one with the puddles, the storm, the growth and newness and life all around me. It is as Ralph Waldo Emerson said:

"To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most person do not see the sun. At least, they have a   very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and heart of the child.... To the body and mind which have been cramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal and restores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney, comes out of the din and craft of the street, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself."

This time of year is hard and crazy, especially for students. My encouragement for the day is this: find a little nature every day. A flower, a bird song, a vernal breeze... whatever you will. As Emerson so perfectly put it, come away from the craft and din for a few moments, let nature work its magic upon you, and allow yourself to become a little more human. You don't have to go any futher than outside your door - no long hikes or retreats required - but even so, in nature's eternal calm, you will find yourself. Go see the sun, feel the moving wind, or walk barefoot in the rain - and let yourself become whole.

Faithfully yours - 'til next time...  

Sunday Scribblings #262 - Befuddled

I know why you're here. You've come to ask me what happened. That's right, isn't it? You want me to tell you the whole sad story.

Well, then, I don't suppose you'll believe me when I tell you that I don't know.

Don't look at me like that. I know what you're thinking. "Of course she doesn't know. That's what they all say." Think what you will - but its true. I don't know what happened.

It's not that I don't remember. Not really. I do remember, but only in flashes - like seeing bits of the landscape lit up in a lightining storm. Something here, something there, but never the whole picture. I can't even say for sure if I did it or not. They tell me I did, so I suppose I must have - but I don't know.

Could I have done it? Physically speaking, I suppose so... but I don't think I have the right psychology. Not normally anyway. Normally, I wouldn't be able to lift a finger toward such a thing. But people can become desperate. At that moment, perhaps...

Perhaps I could have done it.

You read books or hear stories where a character feels something "snap" inside them. I didn't have that moment. I didn't feel anything snap. Something must have happened, though... With a whole resevoir of emotion pressing against my every nerve, there must have been a point when the dam burst.

But I didn't feel it.

There we were, and he was... and I... and the next thing I knew, there were more people around... I couldn't say if I was on my feet or on my back... that horrible thing was in my hand and I couldn't say how it got there... He was bleeding... it was on me, too... Someone was shouting, people were shouting, running... People asking questions  I couldn't answer...

They took me away after that.

They say I should plead insanity. I won't do it, though... I won't... I wasn't insane. I don't know what I was, but I wasn't insane. I'm not crazy, I wasn't crazy then and I wasn't crazy now.

That's all I know. Please, don't ask me anything else. That's all I know.

I don't know what happened, I swear.

On my honor.

So help me, God.

I don't know...

Let it Snow!

Sorry about the delay, everybody. Life has not been granting me the luxury of leisure time of late. And as far as budgeting my time goes, leisure is all I can afford to spend on this poor neglected little blog of mine. Right now, though, I am in desperate need of something to write that isn't literary criticism, so I am more than willing to make it work with my otherwise hectic to-do list.

I have a roommate. Well, five actually - but one in particular I shall make mention of. She is from Georgia. She is a regular Southern belle, minus the thick accent. She always looks lovely, is of a sunny disposition, and is an exellent cook (suffice it to say that the good old Freshman 15 wasn't a danger to us until she moved in at the start of semester). But as I said, she is from the South, and so is accustomed to sunny skies, warm days, and a significant percentage of humidity during the spring and summer. As a result, today came as quite a frustration to her, to put the situation kindly. And why, do you ask, was she in such a state?

Well, my friends, it snowed. Heavily. In MARCH. And here's the great irony of the thing:

HAPPY VERNAL EQUINOX, EVERYBODY!!!

Indeed, it is so. Last Sunday was the official, astronomical, by-the-calendar, universally known FIRST DAY OF SPRING. And how does Mother Nature celebrate? Well, it didn't look like Botticelli's "Primavera," I'll tell you that much.

However, there is still great beauty in it. Have you ever seen fresh, living green grass covered in delicate snow crystals? Or how about a little bird dancing through the air with a chorus of snowflakes? Have you thrown a snowball lately, or caught one of the cool, delicate flakes on the tip of your tongue?

I am a cock-eyed optomist. I know this about myself. I made most of these observations to my best friend while we walked home through a big, wet, drippy blizzard, both of us soaked to the bone and so cold we couldn't feel our feet. After I had stopped mid-stride and bent down to observe the aforementioned blades of grass, Katie just looked at me, shook her head, and declared in a disbelieving tone that I would probably be able to find something pretty to look at even if I were stranded in the middle of Antarctica. I took it as a compliment. But in spite of it all, I hold to it still - there's beauty in any situation if you're willing to look.

You know what I'm going to say, I image - but I'll say it anyway. Go find something beautiful! Every single thing in creation is a blessing. And even if it snows, they're still there, just waiting to be discovered. And who knows? You might just find something magical you wouldn't have known before.

That's all for now, friends - I'll try and be more prompt in my postings in the future (though I won't make any promises I intend to keep until after finals are over). 'Til next we meet....

The Love of Learning

I have an announcement to make, everyone. I have found it - the solution to every education related problem there is.

OK, that's not exactly true. I don't say it will solve the issue of underpaid teachers, nor will it deliver books and paper to third world countries. It won't improve buildings, or save the rain forest, or notch up the public transit system. It won't give you the perfect principal, and it certainly won't do a thing for the quality of public school lunch.

But it does have great advantages. It WILL solve the problems of inattentive students, failing grades, and low test scores. It CAN make a great student out of a poor one. And what is this almighty solution, you ask? Well, here it comes... drum roll, please... The solution is:

LOVE LEARNING.

Sorry if that was a bit of a disappointment. Think about it this way, though, and maybe you'll change your mind. Here is a list of frequently heard school-related complaints uttered by average male and female secondary education students in the vicinity of Wasatch County:

"This book is boring. All those classic books are."

"I'm getting a bad grade in math. My teacher hates me."

"This is stupid. Why do we have to do this?"

"What's the point?"

"I don't get it."

"Who cares?"

Those are the problems. I have told you the answer. Match it up with each statement on that list, and you will see it. Mind, I don't say that you have to love learning everything. If you are not a fan of reading classic books, so be it. It would do a lot of good to read them anyway, but I don't say you have to enjoy every word. I, for one, have a terrible grudge against learning math, as a result of a rather poor classroom experience in high school (slow learner, advanced class, bad combination).

I don't say that you have to love everything you learn - but I do say that you should love learning in general, and you should love at least one thing that you study. It can be most anything, and it doesn't have to be what you're going to do for the rest of your life. My father went into law in college, but he has never stopped learning and loving literature. My mother is a nurse, but never stopped playing the piano and improving her already practiced hand at craft projects. She even took up photography, and for years has had the pleasure of learning the ins and outs of her cameras. In the last six months I myself have taken up knitting, contemporary piano, blogging, a little harp, and some on-the-side Arabic. I become excited every time I knit a new stitch, teach myself a new song, sound out Arabic characters, or reverently place my hands on Katie's harp. None of the above have anything to do with my major - but I have loved learning them anyway. I have even grown to love the work that does have to do with my major - and that is what has made school not only bearable but the most enjoyable time of my life.

Besides the obvious, having a love for learning something has yet another advantage: it is entirely sharable. It's like I've said with love - knowledge, too, is something that can be infinitely given but never diminished. All of the subjects I listed above that I have been enjoying are the result of the tutelage of a friend. It is admirable to have a talent, but it is infinitely greater to have a talent and to be willing to share it with others. It is one of the greatest gifts anyone can give. My father taught me to love books, my mother taught me to love music and to play the piano - and I've haven't stopped since. They have filled my life with pleasure and fulfillment, and will doubtless continue to do so as long as I continue to cultivate them.

Imagine how the world would be if everyone had something to learn and love. Perhaps it would give our teachers an excitement in their classrooms, despite their low salaries. Perhaps learning could inspire someone to bring books and paper to third world countries. Perhaps it would produce architects and environmentalists and engineers who would give us better buildings and save the rain forest and discover renewable energy. And best of all, because those people loved what they had learned, they would perform their work at its best - as close to perfect as it can be. Just imagine - if everyone was able to make one improvement to the world they inhabit, no matter how small, how much could the world be changed for good?

Start now. Find what you love, and put it to use. A little change in you, or a little change you work in someone else, will be the first step. And maybe, if we all work at it together, we can change the world one step at a time.

Yours always - 'Til next time...

Feels Like a Smile

Yep - time once again to change the wallpaper. It's not easy, being green... but it's worth it. St. Patrick's Day is next week! We've got to be green this month!

And speaking of green, did anybody else see what a beautiful day it was yesterday? I bet half the student body here at the Y was sitting outside on the campus lawns. Some were studying, some were pretending to study, and some had abandoned the books all together and were either asleep or just soaking in the sun. Whole classes, even, came pouring out of their buildings of habitation to do their work in the open air. I, for one, was reading a series of excellent short stories and doing my knitting. But that was the afternoon. The story I want to tell was in the morning.

My dear friend Katie and I decided to meet up for lunch, as we had a mutual hour of free time from 11 to 12. We spent the better part of that hour just lying there in the grass, barefooted and coatless, drinking in every ounce of sunlight we could touch. The breeze blew just enough to keep the day from being sultry, but not enough to usher away the warmth. After several minutes of soft companionable silence, Katie sighed peacefully and said, "It feels like a smile."

She was right. That's exactly how it felt. A big, warm, beautiful smile - the kind that is just on the verge of turning into a laugh.

In a week and a half, it will be March 21 - the Vernal Equinox, or astronomical first day of Spring. It's true - spring is right around the corner, and the whole world is smiling and singing in anticipation. The robins are coming back, the grass is coming up green, the trees are beginning to bud, the daffodils and tulips are bursting into bloom, and the golden sun is shining over it all. It is a time of renewal, of fresh starts and new birth. It is a time of coming back and revitalizing after the long, cold days of winter. It is a time for all things to live again.

Funny isn't it - even with all our internal heating and insulated clothing, we human beings come away from winter feeling like we've weathered something. It's as though the whole world breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank heaven - one more winter behind us, and another spring ahead."

I encourage you to get outside and feel the world smiling. You can do it however you please. My father will do it riding some thirty or forty miles on his bike. My friend Addy will go running around the grassy field behind our apartment in her bare feet. And I shall be found sitting in the grass, shoes and jacket forgotten, reading a good book and smiling along with the sun. May it be as glorious a spring for you as it is quickly becoming for me.

I am respectfully yours in Penmanship always. 'Til next time, my friends...

Human Again

Guess what? It is time once again to talk to all you scholars out there who feel like you are drowning in a veritable sea of higher learning. Or who are still working on that High School diploma. Either way - this one's for you. And if you are not a student, you may of course read on - you might find some value in it yourself.

There is a difference, in my book, between being a scholar and being human. The two are different species entirely.

The scholar is a bipedal primate whose greatest advantage in its environment is its literacy. Its natural habitat is a library, desk, or anywhere where textbooks, computers, and lined paper can be found in abundance. It is a solitary creature who spends its time foraging for factual information and applying it in meaningful contexts, such as papers and exams. Their diet is severely restricted to time and current resource, but often consists of heavily processed items that can be prepared in haste. Some are even nocturnal, depending on the time of semester.

The human being is also a bipedal primate, but the resemblance doesn't go much farther than that. The human being is a creature capable of seeing the world around it, and of being at peace with itself - much more than can be said of the average scholar. It can inhabit almost any ecosystem, live off of a wide variety of sustinence, and is generally aware of both its emotional and physical needs. The human being is capable of creating and appreciating things of beauty, and of doing many things as a matter of personal improvement or endurance - rather than for the sake of a grade or score. The human being is a creature of widely varied temperments, but that can generally be found in good spirits, especially in the company of other human beings.

You see? Different species entirely.

However, for all those of you who consider yourselves died-in-the-wool scholars, there is a ray of hope. These two species are physically interchangable. Yes, it's true! You can be a human being if you want to - whenever you want to! All you have to do is put down the books - really put them away! - and do something that doesn't bear any relevance on your grade.

I know, I know - its a great sacrifice. But it will do you all the good in the world. Just put the books out of sight, close the word documents, lock up your Facebook, rid yourself of all flashcards, highlighters, and sticky notes. Get it out of your view and out of your head. Then, when that painful process is complete, go do something else. Ride a bike, bake cookies, go for a run, see a movie or play, have a look at the stars (yes! They're still there! Even during exams!) or simply take a rest. I like to go out on the lawn in front of my apartment building and read a book, or sketch something, or even just lie there and breathe. Did you ever consider what a miracle it is just to take a full breath? You don't realize what a blessing it can be until you've experienced a constricted airway. Believe me - deep breathing is heaven itself.

I won't prattle like this forever, I promise - though you may not take my word for it. I've listed these options before, and I'll likely do it again. The point I wish to make is this: It is possible to be both scholar and human. It is not healthy or productive to be only one or the other. The two must work in tandem - perfect harmony. When they do, you'll find yourself better rested, more productive, and more at peace with yourself all the way around. Take all things in moderation - both the things that must be done and the things that merely should be done.

All scholars need a little humanity from time to time. So take time to be human - don't let yourself look up from your textbooks and realize that the day is passed! Enjoy every moment - even the one's spent in studying. I will bet a pound to a penny that there's even a little magic to be found in that textbook, if you'll only seek it out.

'Til next time, my friends. Ciao!

The Poetry Lense

Last semester, while deeply immersed in my astronomy course, I discovered a handy little impliment called a defraction grating. It looks like a normal photo slide, but without any image on it. It's made of cardboard and cheap plastic. When you look through it though... every particle of light is bent into its seperate wavelenths, and the world becomes a sea of rainbows. It's a beautiful, magical, scientific wonder. I have one myself, a gift from my teacher in the aforementioned class. I look through it from time to time, just to remind myself that the rainbows are still there, just out of sight.

I know I've written about my defraction grating before, in one of my first posts - so my apologies if it's old news to you. I wanted to share it again, though, for a new purpose. I've recently been assigned to read a work of Japanese fiction in my World Literature class - The Narrow Road of the Interior. It's about a pair of poets that go off on a trip to travel the countryside, getting ideas for their work and putting in some quality time with their spiritual improvements. Everywhere they go, if they see something that inspires them they write a Haiku about it. Some, they take with them; but others they leave behind, tacked to doorframes or settled between two rocks, waiting for another traveler to discover them.

I think this is a brilliant idea. I might just leave a couplet on the door of the fine arts center tomorrow, just to see what happens. But why, you ask, would I want to leave bits of literature on public structures? Well, think back to the defraction grating. You see everything as normally lit and normally colored when you look at it with your normal eyes. Through the defraction grating, however, the world becomes colorful and bright. I think that poetry is supposed to work this way. It's a little window into the way the poet views the world, a place where ordinary things, in the words of William Wordsworth, "Through turnings intricate of verse, present themselves as objects recognized, and shining with a glory not their own."

For example, my father gave me a poem of his to read last week. I will not detail it here, for I don't have his express permission to do so. Suffice it to say that it related winter images to a religion, such as stooping "Pine monks of the monastic order" or a tree's "bare limbs trace stained glass window panes." It was beautiful work, but I didn't notice the really beautiful part of it until the next day, when I saw just such bare tree limbs "crisscrossed high against the sky." It took me a moment to remember why I was thinking of a cathedral as I looked at the tree. I soon realized that my father had done the magical thing poetry is supposed to do - giving those ordinary objects their own shining glory, so that I will come to better understand them in the literal world.

This is why I like the idea of leaving poems behind us when we travel. I don't say everyone ought to do this - its a rare person who can whip a poem out of their pocket on such short notice. But just imagine! What would it be like to see the same object, be it building or brick, through the grating of someone else's soul? How different would the world become if we could see it not only in our own way, but in the way others do as well? How different would those others become to us? What new magic and glory would we see in the world through their eyes, minds, and hearts?

Just something to think about. I don't say we must all go write a poem tomorrow - but you might try it sometime when you feel so inspired. I shall certainly be looking for an opportunity with bated breath.

May the wind be at your backs, my friends. 'Til next time...

Everyday Humanity

There's a funny thing about the way we human beings tend to think. Because it is your brain, your heart, and your body, and because you are the spirit inhabiting them, you have a tendency to thnk more about yourself than about others from day to day. This thought process should not be mistaken for selfishness. It's only natural. Because your joys, sorrows, peace, and pain are for you alone to experience, you feel them more acutely than those of anyone else. This is how we are.

However, this natural phenomenon can become a less-than-innocent vice if too long ignored. In this state of self-awareness, it is easy to become less and less aware of the emotions of those around you. The real catch, however, is this - all those people you see and interact with every day are feeling their own pain and sorrow just as closely and sharply as you are feeling yours. The fact that you cannot feel what another feels does not lessen the gravity or depth of the emotion in their own heart. It is still there - but so easily goes unnoticed.

I would beg my readers to remember the feelings of those outside themselves - whether they be friend or enemy, acquaintance or kin, stranger or family. No matter the circumstances, no matter what barriers may divide us, we are all part of the same whole - humanity. We are all people, no matter where we come from or how we think or what we do.

We all have felt pain, and just the same have known joy. We know what it is to be hurt, and also what it is to injure. We have known days of sunshine, and days of cloud. We have experimented with faith, each trying to find his way in a world that offers few anwers. We have experienced both excitement and dissapointment, both euphoria and despair. We have all felt the cherished love of another human being, and in turn have loved over again. We have all felt the agony of loss, the darkness and sorrow of grief. We have known happiness and sorrow, peace and pain - every single one of us.

I think that this deeply egrained humanity is a keystone to the admonission to "Mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort." Comfort without experience is empty - mere pity, nothing more. If someone comes to you in need of comfort, look deeper than that. Look into your own past, your own memories, your own feelings. Look deep enough, and I think you will find that you have felt what that comfortless soul is feeling before, even if under different circumstances. And when you have experienced the feelings of another, it will become infinitely easier and infinitely more meaningful to give them the respite and peace they need.

Remember, too, the one who did this same thing for each of us. He willingly experienced all our sorrows and pain, so that he could bring us the joy and peace we seek. It is a miracle simply to know of that sacrifice - and more of a miracle to feel it at work in yourself. "I shall not leave you comfortless..." "My peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you. Not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart by troubled, neither let it be afriad." "Therefore, continue on your journey - for behold, and lo, I am with you, even unto the end."

So it is, and so it shall be. 'Til we meet again, my friends...

The Simple Things

Once upon a time, way back in the days of Greek mythology, there lived a Titan named Atlas. Atlas was very big, very muscular, and had been asigned the less-than-pleasant task of bearing the weight of the sky on his shoulders. He made Heracles carry it for a while and tried to ditch him with it, but of course Heracles tricked Atlas into taking it back. Why? Well, the Greeks couldn't just leave Heracles there - he's the hero. We can't have him missing out on his happy ending just because he's stuck under the sky. But Heracles isn't the one we're focusing on here, so forget about him for a while. I want to take a moment to think about Atlas. He had to carry the weight of the whole sky for a milenia before Heracles came along, and even then he only got a ten minute break. I feel sympathy for the poor Titan. The sky is quite a load to shoulder.

I find that sometimes we as people try to take on the weight of the sky, so to speak. Of course, thanks to modern discovery, we know that there isn't acutally a giant guy in a loin cloth standing at the top of a mountian holding the sky. We know about astronomy and gravity and atmosphere and everything else. When I say we hold up the sky, I mean it figuratively - in the sense that we hold up burdens that are extremely heavy for us, but that we feel are necessary to bear. For example, I now bear the burnden of my major requirements (all of them), my finances, and many thoughts of a future for which I cannot yet plan. Others shoulder the weight of supporting a family, the paying of bills and mortgages, the battle against illness and physical pain, or the crushing pressure of debt. You name it - everyone has something to carry.

Now, I must introduce another character to the scene. His name is Henry David Thoreau. He went out into the New England woods, built a cabin, grew his own food, and lived there next to a little lake in Massachusets for two years, two months, and a couple days. He wrote about his experiences there and published them in a book named after the lake - "Walden." He told the world to "Simplify, simplify, simplify," to live on the nessesities, and to own our possessions and not to let them own us. He said of his experience, "I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I cam to die, discover that I had not lived."

I wonder, sometimes, if that person won't be me - the one that gets to the end of their life, and realizes that I spent so much time worrying about what may be, or could be, or should be, that I forgot to live. May I urge every one of you not to let that happen to you or anyone else. Own your burndens and troubles - but do not let them own you.

The weather is becoming warmer. Today was absolutely beautiful, and the rest of the week promises much of the same. It is, as I have heretofore stated, the time of year for chocolate and sugar cookies. I suggest going and enjoying these things while they are present, instead of letting them pass by in the shadow of worries and troubles. Go and feel the sun on your face. Let the wind brush across your skin and bring new life to your lungs. Look at the trees and the grass and the robin readbreasts on the buildings and telephone wires. Listen to music or birdsong. Run. Rest. Dance. Sing. Anything - just go experience one of the simple, beautiful, magical things that make life worth living from day to day. Every blessing you discover will bring a little more peace and happiness to your days - and I think you'll find that the burden you carry will be a little lighter for the experience.

That is all I can write. I must now go out and enjoy the sunshine before the clouds roll in. Many thanks, and much love on this Valentines Day. 'Til next time, my friends!

Valentines Day 101

Yes, it has happened again - Everyday Magic has changed her look. There are two reasons for this - first is that I got tired of blue. People always use the color blue in January, but blue is such a cold color - if it's already freezing outside, why add to it? If one is going to color January (or any other winter month, such as February), I say one ought to color it with a bright, warm, sunny, happy color - something that will keep us from freezing before the winter campaign is over. The second reason for the pinks and reds is because of the Holiday we are all going to celebrate in less than two weeks:

Valentines Day.

If you are a hopeless romantic, perhaps this is a holiday you look forward to. If you are not a hopeless romantic, perhaps this holiday makes you want to be sick. And, perhaps, if you have a significant other to provide for and pamper thereupon, this holiday might even give you a scare (or at least a nervous reaction).

So the question is - what to do? What can one do to celebrate Valentines Day? Well, if you are one with a significant other, I don't have the answers for you. I have never been party to such a relationship (virgin lips still!), so I am not the person to ask. Go talk to someone you know who is married, who has been courting for a significant period, or who knows your significant other up close and personally (like a close friend or cousin). But don't ask me. I don't know.

This post is for people who lack a significant other, but may in fact wish that they had one as this holiday approaches. It is also for those who simply want a good way to celebrate. So here are my thoughts:

1. Make Valentines anyway. You don't have to have a boyfriend or girlfriend to give them to. Make them for your friends, just to tell them how much you appreciate them. Make one for your mom and dad, and remind them that you love them (and just in case my parents are reading this - I love you both!). My family always makes one for each of the grandmothers and great grandmothers, and ships them off with lots of love and homemade treats. And on the subject of treats...

2. Make cookies! Sugar cookies! Heart-shaped! With sprinkles! But wait - that's not all. There is a multitude of advantages to the cookie baking activity. First of all, you can make a date out of it. Just ask someone you know and like of the opposite gender to come mix up some sugar cookie dough with you. Who's going to refuse that? And if you don't know how to make sugar cookies, comment below and I'll send you the best recipe I've got. The other fun part is this: when put on paper plates, cookies are extremely useful for activities besides eating - such as being left on doorsteps or given as gifts or cheering up a sad someone. I need not say more. You are educated people - you know where I'm going with this.

3. Stop and smell the roses - even if you can't or don't want to buy any. They've got some beautifully scented ones in their selection at most Costco wholesale stores, if anyone's interested. Or if roses aren't your thing, do something else. Watch a sunset. Go for a walk or a run or a drive. Look at the stars. Feel the sun on your face and the wind in your hair. Go to a museum. Listen to beautiful music. Whatever you will - just go experience something that you think is beautiful.

4. Pamper yourself just a little - whatever pampering means to you. For me, it's curling up with a treat and a good book, or even taking a hot bath. You can define it how you will - but whatever it is, do it for yourself on the 14th, just to make the day (and yourself!) feel a little more special.

5. Remember that there is always someone out there who loves you - even if you are without a boy/girlfriend status or a ring on your finger to prove it. There are so many people who love you more dearly than you know. And best of all, there is one who loves you the most - your Heavenly Father. Never forget it.

So this sums it up: Love yourself. Love the world. Love other people. Love the Lord. It doesn't get any plainer and simpler than that. And as I've said before (and will likely say again), love is an absolutely inexhaustible resource. It never diminishes when you give it away... it multiplies. So give it away freely this month, the month designated for its celebration, and you will find that you have more in the end than when you began. May it be so at this time and always.

All my love and gratitude! 'Til next time...

Echoes of the Ages

Greetings, once again, friends, kin, near relations, strangers, critics, and enemies alike. You are reading Everyday Magic. If this is not the blog you were trying to reach, my apologies - you somehow typed the wrong URL. If I may say so, however, you might find it worth your while to read on. I've actually got a really good story for today.

I have had a momunental experience as I rambled through the Social Sciences section today. This afternoon, here in the Harold B. Lee Library (from whence I now write), I handled the oldest book it has ever been my privelage to encounter. It was a very aged thing, wearing away at the bindings, barely keeping it's long-since yellowed pages together. I could not at first locate a date within, so I had thought to simply put it away and move on. As I was about to shelve it, however, I caught sight of the library catalogue label on the spine - and couldn't suppress a gasp. This book - a collection of heroes and characters from Greek antiquity - was published in London, England... in 1774. 1774! I couldn't believe my eyes. I was holding a work of non-fiction literature that was 237 years old... older than my grandparents, my great grandparents, my great-great grandparents... something to the tune of four or five "greats" on the prefix.

I was suspended for some time in a state of awe. I withdrew the book again from the shelf, carefully examining the pages and cover with a sort of profound revrence. The inside cover held two labels - one with stamped the crest of the Royal Family (the lion and the Unicorn) that read "Haud Muto Factum" (Latin for "nothing comes from being mute"); the other depicting a tall sailing ship with the words "Ex Libris" ("from the books") printed above. Within the cover was written the name John J. Kest. My mind immediately started going a mile a minute. Who was John Kest? He wasn't the author... so perhaps an owner of the book? What did tall ships have to do with anything? What did the author and the printer and Kest think about the Americas? Did any of them realize that revolution was but a year away?

A veritable treasure trove - and right there in a college library. I remained with the book for some time, looking it over and enjoying its presence. I was reluctant to shelve it again and return to my usual work. However, even after I had left the bookshelves, visions of John Kest and sailing ships and antiquitous books danced before me, and my hands smelled of the dusty vellum cover for an hour afterwards.

I was reminded of this poem by Emily Dickinson:

IN A LIBRARY.

A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,

His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.

His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old;

What interested scholars most,
What competitions ran
When Plato was a certainty.
And Sophocles a man;

When Sappho was a living girl,
And Beatrice wore
The gown that Dante deified.
Facts, centuries before,

He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.

His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

I have experienced the action of this poem firsthand today. I certainly believe that last stanza - "His presence is enchantment, you beg him not to go... old volumes shake their vellum heads and tantalize just so." That said, I think I can truly proclaim that I have been both fully tantalized and unwittingly enchanted today. I was glad to make the aquaintance of such an ancient friend, and I can promise that I will certainly be back to see him again very soon.

Many thanks, and keep smiling! 'Til next we meet...

Sunday Scribblings #251 - Eternity

The little girl walks down into the water, where her father stands waiting for her. He takes her hands and arranges them on his arm as they had practiced, she intently trying to remember his earlier instructions while concious of the luke-warm font water soaking through her jumpsuit. She closes her eyes as her father raises his arm to the square, addresses her by her full name, and speaks the baptismal blessing. As soon as the 'amen' is spoken, he carefully pushes her back and submerges her beneath the water. For an instant all is silent, then she is up again - blinking and spluttering, but suddenly... happy.

The little one leaves the font to put on her new white dress, feeling lighter and more cheerful than ever before. It had happened so quickly, but she knew that didn't matter... she was baptised. "Clean and pure...," she whispered to herself. And so she was.


-oo0oo-

The young bride and her handsome husband came out of the temple at 11:30, and hour and fifteen minutes after going in. Her flowing white dress blended in with the pearly white stone behind her, both sparkling bright in the sunlight. Pictures were arranged with both families - first with his parents, then hers, then the siblings, then all the aunts and uncles and cousins.

The day to come will be a long one, filled with greetings and goings and preparations for the reception. But for now, all that is forgotten as she looks deeply into the eyes of the man she loves more than anyone in the world and smiles as he draws her close. He sweeps her up into his arms and walks down the hill to the gates, the sealer's words still ringing in both of their ears. Together... not "'Til death do us part," but "For time and all eternity..." And so it was.

-oo0oo-

The newspapers had put a story out about it the week before, but it was small and went generally unnoticed. A teenager and an involved in a car crash. Black ice... an accident by most accounts, though the police wouldn't have called it so. Both cars were totalled. Both men were killed.

The young man's family was devastated. At his funeral there was a great deal of pain and many tears. The widow of the old man attended, but she felt that there was little she could say or do to assuage their grief. Yet it made her heart ache to see them brought so low - they looked as though they would never be happy again.

Her husband's funeral could not have been more different. There were tears, and there was time for mourning... But when all the words had been spoken and the dedication of the gravesite was through, the crying stopped. The pain of loss was still present, of course, and would be for some time to come - but it was only a shadow of what it had been before. The family retired to the cultural hall in the church and enjoyed a beautiful meal prepared by the Relief Society sisters of that ward. There was laughter and conversation again, smiles and love flowing freely. Somehow, it was almost impossible to feel pain in the midst of such joy.

Later, at home, the widow continued to smile. It had been a beautiful service... the best she could have hoped for. Everything was cleared up now, and everyone gone home... but there was one more thing that needed to be done. For a moment she disappeared into the bedroom, then came again into the living room, this time with a framed photograph in hand. She looked at it fondly - an unplanned shot of a beaming bride being kissed by a dashing young husband. Smiling again, though a little sadly, she placed the picture next to the painting of Jesus Christ on the mantlepiece. For a moment the tears almost came again, but one glance at the Savior stopped them. It would be alright... She would see him again soon. And when she did, it would not be a fleeting embrace, but a lasting union...

"For time and all eternity." And so it is.

Love's Magical Touch

Again, I am going off of a quote. If you've read my little quotes list to your immediate right, you will have seen it before. It was spoken (or written) by Charles Morgan, and it goes as follows:

"There is no surprise more magical than being loved. It is God's finger on man's shoulder."

I want you to think back to your childhood. Remember the people who were close to you... and single one out who could be considered your best friend. If there's more than one, that's fine, too. What were they like? Why did you like to be with them? And most importantly, what did you feel like when they were around you?

I have a poem to share with you now. Keep that person in mind, and read this excerpt:

I love you
not only for what you are,
but for what I am
when I am with you.

I love you
not only for what
you have made of yourself,
but for what
you are making of me.

I love you
for the part of me
that you bring out.
I love you
for putting your hand
into my heaped-up heart
and passing over
all the foolish, weak things
you cannot help
dimly seeing there
and drawing out
into the light
all the beautiful belongings
no one else had looked
quite far enough to find.

There's more to it, but it's rather long - by Roy Croft, I think it is. Anyway, does this sound any familiar tones with you? It does with me. Here at college I have found some of the best friends I have ever known. And in doing so, I have discovered a version of myself that I didn't know before. It's true. They are the sort of friends that make me want to be my best self - and I have found that I love the person that I am when I am with them. They make me feel like I am someone worth being... and after hearing it so many times, I have begun to believe it. Just a little, day by day - but still.

Have any of you had those kinds of friends? Do you have any now? Then my thought of the day is this: the best thing you can do for a good friend to give them your thanks is to be a good friend back to them. It's easy to do, really... and it's such a beautiful feeling for everyone. I would also remind my readers that there are many out there who have not been truly befriended. May I encourage you to give of yourself to those who need it. A little love can work wonders - it truly can. A person touched by the love and belief of another can become almost a new being.

The effect is... how shall we say it... magical?

'Til next we meet my friends. Fare thee well... 

The Great Decision

Welcome once again to Everyday Magic, coming to you for the first time in this brand new year of 2011! The holidays are at an end, and routine has made its annual encroachment back into our lives. But no worries there - good old routine will soon be welcome enough.

Today is all about a choice. For many years, my mother kept a little framed embroidery sample hanging in the upstairs bathroom, just above the towels. Being in such an often used room, the members of our family had many opportunities to read it throughout the day - as we went about brushing our teeth, bathing little ones, washing hands and so forth. It read as follows:

"We are as happy as we make up our minds to be."

Now as a child, this phrase was lost on me. I thought it meant that we would be happy when we made up our minds to become something. We are as happy as we make up our minds to be... nurses? To be mothers? Primary leaders? I was a long way off the mark. This little quote means that we are only as happy as we choose to be. What an idea! We can choose to be happy... just imagine the sorts of possibilities that open up.

This idea came back to me as I was sitting around on the couch a couple nights ago. I hadn't been given much homework, so I was rather bored. Without some sort of productive occupation, I'd had a relapse of homesickness and was vainly craving human companionship. I had been in such a sorry state for over an hour before it occured to me. I didn't have to be miserable. I could choose, right then and there, to be happy, have a good day, and to be content with where I was. Even though the lonliness did persist a little, I was much improved thereafter.

The decision is yours, my friends - happiness or sorrow, contentment or misery. Your pick. And while there is no doubt that our circumstances do contribute to our emotional well being, they are only what we make of them. In the words of a poet, "Environment is but [our] looking glass." We possess the ability to make the world around us completely miserable if we view it through the wrong mindset. But if we can make the world miserable, surely we can make it joyful as well?

Perhaps I am simply a broken record. The appearance of the world depends on how you look at it - I've surely said it a thousand times. But it's a true now as it was last semester. Your world is only as bright, as beautiful, as magical, and as happy as you make up your mind that it shall be.

May you be safe and cared for, my friends, 'til next we meet...

Ring out the Old...

Yes, Christmas is past. I am aware of the fact. But these Christmas colors are staying up until January has fully begun, and even then.... well, we'll see how that goes. Welcome to any family, friends, kin, or acquaintances who are visiting based on my mom's little link at the bottom of our Christmas letter. Thank you for taking a few minutes out of your day to listen to the hopeful ramblings of an often misplace muse. Under the circumstances, you must either be very curious, very crazy, or really love me. Whatever your reason for being here, I thank you again for your time.

The year is almost out. I don't know about anyone else, but for me it has flown on wings of lightening. I have experienced a lot of changes, especially in heading off to college. Many thanks to those of you who have helped me through those difficult days. I can't possibly find adequate words to express the joy and blessing of the support of a friend or dear one when the road grows rough and the feet grow weary.

It has been quite a year... a year of long-anticipated endings and fresh new beginnings. A year of friends, of family, of near kindred. A year of song and dance and music. A year of herbal tea and wool socks. A year of lost keys, found keys, and borrowed keys. A year of hardship, work, and pain. A year of late nights and early mornings. A year of partings and a year of greetings. A year of temple trips, hot chocolate, and late-night conversation. A year of new friends and old friends. A year of sorrow. A year of rejoicing. A year of thanksgiving. A year of magic.

Isn't that amazing? Before we know it, a whole year gone. So here's the moral of the story - for a moral there must be. Three hundred and sixty five days have passed us by. Did we use them wisely? Now that the holidays are over, we are looking over our accounts to see how our funds have been spent. I think that ought to be the way we treat the new year, as well. Last January we were given three hundred and sixty five days to spend as we chose. Did we spend frivolously, or did we use them for the improvement of others as well as our own? The answer is yours. Just something to think about...

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind
should auld acquaintance be forgot
for auld lang syne,

For auld lang syne, my dears
for auld lang syne
we'll drink a cup of kindness yet
for auld lang syne.

Robert Burns. Probably a familiar tune, isn't it? Auld lang syne, loosely translated, means "for the sake of old times" or "days gone by." I agree with Burns here. Though mountains, oceans, and passing years divide, let us never forget the bygone days, for they can be a great help and comfort to us in the future. Yet let us also raise a cup to days to come... and may they be as beautiful, as sweet, as prolonged, and as magical as auld lang syne.

Happy new year, my friends. Here's to auld lang syne, and to many days to come! May you be blessed and happy this new year and always. 'Til next we meet...  

Three Gifts

There is a book of religious doctrine out there - the Korahn, I think - which has a very interesting idea to go along with its reading. It is said that every doctrine written therein has seven meanings. The first is the most literal - for example, "And the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights" (Jonah 1:17). So Jonah was swallowed by a fish and waited around inside for three days. Literal, face value interpretation. The second level is slightly more symbolic - say, the Lord prepared a trial for Jonah to endure. The third level more so - the Lord prepares trials for his children, which they must endure to become more like Him. And so on and so forth, until the seventh level, which, according to tradition, is known only to God.

One of my religion professors brought up an idea rather like this about Christmas. This season, too, has different levels. Three, as it happens - a number closely associated with this holiday, especially in the three gifts of the Magi. So, in honor of the season, consider these three kinds of gifts, of three levels, of Christmas.

The first kind of gifts are the secular ones. There's nothing wrong with that, by the way. Secularism, while often overplayed in the modern world, isn't always a bad thing. What I mean in this case is the gift that you go to a store, website, or retailers to purchase for someone near and dear to you for a holiday or special occasion. It could be anything - clothing, toys, books, electronics, home appliances, beauty supplies, you name it. Secular simply means it goes into wrapping paper and under the tree. Secular gifts are a great thing. I have gotten one for each person in my immediate family. My mom has been frantic trying to hunt them all down for the kids and my father. We have received countless tokens and treats of the season from neighbors and friends in the past weeks. These gifts are our ways of showing others that we love them and are grateful for their influence in our lives. It's how we give aid to those who we don't know, but who happen to need a guardian angel or Christmas elf - which, in turn, happens to be us. It's our way of participating in the season of giving.

The second kind of gift one from our Heavenly Father - that is, the Christ child. There are all kinds of gifts that go with this one - gold, frankinsense, and myrrh, to name a few, as well as bright stars, angel carols, and visits from neighboring shepherds. It's the perfect nativity - shepherds, wisemen, Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus in the manger. This is the second level of the Christmas season. Perhaps less noticible than the secular side sometimes, its spirit still penetrates our holiday celebrations with the sweetness of new birth.

It goes deeper still, however. There is a third level, a third gift. This level is the most important, but often the most overlooked of the three. It does not celebrate holiday sales and brightly colored presents. It does not celebrate a baby in a manger, or even a redeemer on a cross. Not a child Christ, or a dead Christ - but a living one. This level is one of remembering that at this time over two thousand years ago, our loving Heavenly Father gave to us the greatest gift the world has ever known. It is bearing in mind the great suffering that Jesus Christ took upon himself for our own sinful sakes, and bearing in our hearts the joy of knowing that we can be healed at his hand. It is celebrating that a baby was born - a baby that would make it possible for all of us to return to our Heavenly Father. It is a time of feeling of our Heavenly Father's incomprehensible love for us, and refining our desires to match his. And even though Eastertide is yet to come, this is a season to rejoice in the knowledge that our savior lives. Those are, in my opinion, the sweetest words human tongue can utter. Our savior lives!

I now most humbly descend from my little soapbox. You can come to your own conclusions about Christ and about faith. But I hope that my words have at least brought to your remembrance the true origins of this season. An unfriendly town, a shabby stable, a less than adequate manger, and a baby - a baby who would someday be the greatest gift the world has every received. May we give thanks for that gift this day and always.

Happy Holidays, my friends! 'Til next we meet...   

Silver and Gold

Three words: FINALS. ARE. OVER!!! Suffice it to say that I have been in a jubilant mood since I escaped my last exam yesterday - Astronomy. I no longer have to study for days at a time. I have two weeks to simply repose at home - no deadlines, no pressure, no textbooks. It will be a glorious experience. Anyway - to the point. I do have a tendency to get around that, don't I? We'll, we're here now - so let's begin.

"Make new friends but keep the old - one is silver and the other's gold." I imagine that you all have heard this so many times it hardly requires repetition. Yes, it's commonplace. Yes, it's been overplayed. I'm here to tell you that it's also true - but not in the way you might suppose.

Indeed, old friends are as good as gold and better. I have many companions that have been Daemon to my Pythias since before I can remember (and by the way, if you don't get the greek reference, look it up - Daemon and Pythias. It's a story worth the reading). I have many friends with whom I have formed sweet alliance as the years passed, throughout my school days and on. They have been dearer to me than any material possession I could ever own or desire. They have made life bearable for me when it could hardly be shouldered. They have supported me in my high ascensions, even when they themselves had already reached the summit. I couldn't have asked for anything or anyone better than they. Next to such unfailing friendship, where does gold stand a chance?

But here's a rather interesting spin on the old phrase. Did you know that silver is acutally more valuable than gold? It's true. Gold often sells for more on the market, but silver - in its broad usefulness and comparative scarcity - is actually higher in value. Now what does that say to us? Allow me to give example - and again remember, as I relate my own experience, that I do so only for a lack of anyone else's. If you can make relation with the topic at hand, please bear yourself in mind as you read.

I came to college lonely and afraid. All of my old companions had gone to other schools, and I was very much alone. The size of the school overwhelmed me, compared to the little high school I had just left. My apartment was altogether too quiet after the hustle and bustle of a household of seven. I found myself crying often, and sighing almost every two or three breaths. It was a difficult first few weeks, without question.

But college didn't bring hardship only. When I came here I discovered something else - pure silver. My wonderful roommate was my best helpmeet during those difficult times - always smiling, always free and easy, and a cock-eyed optomist to the core. She cared about what classes I was taking, how my day had gone, who I had met, or what I had done, and earnestly listened to the telling. My other apartment-mate soon made herself known as a veritable rainbow, bringing life and color into any room she entered. And then, not long after, we met the girls next door. Addy, a constant ray of sunshine who hails from rainy Washington. I suppose that when natural sunlight is scarce, you learn to make your own - Addy simply radiates it everywhere she goes. And then her roommate - if you read my sunday scribblings entry a week or so ago - "What a Difference a Day Makes" - then you know how I met Katie. She came over one night, without pretense, and asked if I was doing anything. We ended up making a movie night of it, and we both had a wonderful time. What she could not have known was that I had been having a horribly homesick day, and had despaired at sitting in the apartment alone all evening. I had no sooner completed the thought when her knock came at the door - a little miracle in its way. We have been fast friends ever since. We plan to room together next year, and to go to Jerusalem together come next winter.

I could tell you endless stories of a similar nature. It's incredible how many memories can be made in three and a half months! There have been so many evenings, so many days, so many hours that I have held on to afterwards, and which I have later fled to and cherished on difficult days.

But the point, once again - gold and silver. I love my old friends. I do. I've missed them, and I've tried to take every opportunity to correspond with them. I've missed high school and Heber City. And even in their absence, I prize them as gold. And yet... here in Provo, I've found something equal to gold and better. Even in the midst of difficult change, even in a new, unfamiliar place, I have been blessed with silver everywhere I turned. I haved thanked my lucky stars and my Heavenly Father every day for such friends and such blessings as I have been given - even during the difficult days. And those dear friends have been more valuable to me than the old, simply because they are not a letter or a message, but a warm, living, breathing human being standing in person before me. Someone I can physically turn to when I need encouragement, or comfort, or a sweet embrace. And I can say with all honesty that none of my shining silver friends have ever let me down.

This time of year, both Thanksgiving and Christmas, is a good time of year to take stock of your personal coffers, both in a physical and spiritual sense. As you do, I encourage you to take particular notice of your gold and silver, and express your gratitude to both for their friendship and service. I also encourage you to look around and notice those who count you as gold or silver in their own treasuries. I know that every time my friends have given me comfort, my only desire was to return it in their hour of need. So take notice, be aware, keep and open mind - you never know what you might discover by the simple act of keeping your eyes open.

I know I have well expended my time on this page - yet one thing more. Never forget who sent you among these loved ones - our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. They are our finest friends, now and forever. When all other metals have rusted and tarnished, when "from love's shining circle the gems drop away," they will always remain. May we remember to turn to them in all our doings, during this sacred Christmas season and always.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and safe journeys to all. 'Til next we meet...

Sunday Scribblings #245 - Limits

Can't is a horrible word. For one, it's a conjunction - and in my book it's just as easy to say "cannot," as it was said in proper English for centuries before Americans hit the scene. And crazy though it may seem, even in this conjunction-heavy modern day I am a great supporter of proper English.

That's not the real reason I hate it, though - "can't." I hate it because everyone says it about me. Almost every day. They've been saying it for sixteen years, and I for one am at a loss for anything that might make them stop.

I "can't" use the stairs, so I have to have an elevator pass, or take classes on the ground floor. I "can't" be in the school play because it requires dancing - no voice-only parts available. I "can't" do any school sports, even though I'm sure I could dominate at track and field if I wanted to - or basketball, or even rodeo. I "can't" drive myself anywhere (even with my liscence) because I "can't" get in and out of the car by myself. And I "can't" get any job that's worth getting. Believe me - I've tried. All because of this stupid wheelchair.

I shouldn't say that, really - my wheelchair allows me to do a lot of things I wouldn't be able to do otherwise. It takes away a whole world of "can'ts" from the picture. The proper thing to say is that I hate the fact that I will probably never be able walk. It's the only "can't" I've learned to accept. I can't stand for more then a few seconds on my own - I never could. I suppose that after so many years of living with a "can't," you start to get used to it.

But I have a secrect. In the evenings, after the dinner dishes are cleared away and my siblings are off to their respective activities, I disappear to my bedroom. I have it to myself - the only one on the ground floor. I lock the door, turn on the desk lamp, and pull the shades. I get out of my wheelchair and onto my bed. I even collapse it and push it beneath the desk, so I don't have to see it. I kick off my shoes and pull off my braces. Then I slip a hand under my pillow and draw out what's hidden there - a novel, whatever I was able to get my hands on in the library that week. I reverently pull back the cover, find my last stopping place, and read.

And suddenly I am in another world. It doesn't matter which one - the effect is the same. I am taking the stairs of Hogwarts two at a time, trying to be on time for Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. I am dancing in the moonlight with the Scottish selkies, their seal skins abandoned on the beach. I am playing discus or racing chariots with Perseus and Jason and Heracles himself. I am travelling the world - by ship, by train, by horse, by hot air balloon. I am working alongside both the great and the humble - sluething alongside Sherlock Holmes, weaving with Silas Marner, striking the hour in Notre Dame with Quasimodo, or farming beside Alexandra on the Divide. I fly over Alegaesia on Saphira's back, ride through the woods with the Elves of Rivendell, wield a sword in defense of Narnia against the evil White Witch, or join the crew of brave Odysseus in his journey home to Ithaca. I can be anyone, go anywere, or do anything between those blessed pages...

And when the novel is over, or life comes once again creeping beneath the door and through the blinds to steal me back from the realm of fastasy, I turn to other means. When my mother or teachers think I'm doing homework, I open a fresh notebook and write. And then the world is my own, and I am once again free of the contraints of reality and flying on the back of my own imagination.

The world may say that I "can't." I say "you can't stop me."

As I Am

I wanted to share another piece of prose that is not my own. This one's poetry, actually - but that's not really important. Here it is:

I am the place where God shines through
for He and I are one, not two.
I need not want, nor will, nor plan -
my place is where and as I am.
And if I be relaxed and free,
He shall carry out His plan through me.

It's that fourth line that I wanted to show you particularly - "My place is where and as I am." That is temperence at its best. I think that not all of us feel that way. It is easy to wish that we were somewhere else, some other time; or that we were like someone, or had what someone else has, or could be in someone else's place. Sound familiar? It sure does to me. More than once have I been touched with envy for another, for for longing for another time and place, away from the care and responsibility of now.

Perhaps, though, we ought to think more along the lines this poem suggests. I am not, in fact, in a more stress free environment than the one which I occupy. I am not the girl with the angel voice in the Fine Arts Center, nor the skilled actress in the main stage production, nor J.K. Rowling (or anyone like her). I am in finals week. At BYU. I am an actress, a singer, and writer, even if not perfect or highly trained. I am student, a sister, a daughter, and a friend. My place is where and as I am. I use myself as an example simply because I haven't the words to relate it to every one of you. Imagine the words as they would sound with your name in their stead, and your place and talents, and you'll have a better picture.

And then there's the next part: "And if I be relaxed and free, He shall carry out His plan through me." Relaxed and free. How often are we so set on our own plans that we forget our Heavenly Father's? I know I have become so misguided at times. Again, it's easy to forget. It is an inherent part of our nature to let even the sweetest memories slip away from us. Because we can't see Him, we sometimes forget that He is there. But even on our brightest days,and especially in our darkest hours, He never forgets us. All it takes is for us to turn to him, to "Humble [ourselves]... before the mighty hand of God, that He may exhault you in do time... Casting all you care upon Him, for He careth for you."

And that he does - more than our lesser minds and hearts can ever comprehend. He knows us, and loves us, and has a plan for each of us. If we will only be relaxed and free, seperating ourselves from the hasteneing and rush of our everyday lives, and let Him work through us. May we all remember His everlasting love this sacred time of year.

Onward, ever onward! Until next time, dear readers...