O remember, my son!

"The morning frost on the manure looks lovely."

That's what my daughter said this morning, partly in jest and partly because it really does look pretty. We've got manure spread all over the back "yard". All winter the rain will come down on it and all winter a lovely slushy manure tea will sink into our clay-like dirt and then, come spring, we'll plow all that yummy manure into the dirt and we'll hopefully be able to plant anything there and it will GROW. That's the plan, anyhow.

Here's what grabbed my attention in my scripture reading this morning--a description of us pitiful humans: (from Helaman 12:4-8)

"O how foolish, and how vain, and how evil, and devilish and how quick to do iniquity, and how slow to do good, are the children of men; yea, how quick to hearken unto the words of the evil one, and to set their hearts upon the vain things of the world.
Yea, how quick to be lifted up in pride; yea, how quick to boast, and do all manner of that which is iniquity; and how slow are they to remember the Lord their God, and to give ear unto his counsels, yeah, how slow to walk in wisdom's paths!
Behold, they do not desire that the Lord their God, who hath created them, should rule and reign over them; notwithstanding his great goodness and his mercy towards them, they do set at naught his counsels, and they will not that he should be their guide.
O how great is the nothingness of the children of men; yea, even they are less than the dust of the earth.
For behold, the dust of the earth moveth hither and thither, to the dividing asunder, at the command of our great and everlasting God."

So even the dust of the earth remembers and obeys better than we do. And so, according to the scriptures, do the hills, the mountains, the oceans, yes, the whole earth does better than we who claim ownership of it do.

Poor, tired Nephi (son of Helaman) has preached to his people all his life and they constantly forget all the teachings of the prophets and all their past experience with God. Here's the part that scares me:

"And thus we see that except the Lord doth chasten his people with many afflictions, yea, except he doth visit them with death and with terror, and with famine and with all manner of pestilence, they will not remember him."

I don't have a good memory. And it's the chastening that I fear. :)

Sometimes I think that the reason all today's saints (that's us!) aren't going to completely forget, embrace wickedness and lose the gospel on the earth--as we've been promised will NOT happen--the reason that won't happen to us, perhaps, is because of the media. We vilify it for its use in furthering the agendas of Satan, but it also furthers the purposes of God--the building up of His kingdom on earth. We've got satellite TV, webcasts, books, magazines, websites, conferences, podcasts, blogs, etc, etc. It is so easy to access all kinds of media that remind us forgetful humans of God and His commandments. Of course, perhaps we--those who have been saved for these last days--ARE stronger. Perhaps. But it IS easier to remember for us. We read, we write. We have been commanded to keep personal journals of remembrance.

It seems that one of our greatest weaknesses as mortals is our permeable memories. I blame a lot of my failures on forgetfulness. That lady I felt impressed to call yesterday when I said my morning prayers? I got caught up in the day and forgot. I forget to pray some nights when I'm really tired and distracted. I wait all day for the "perfect" time for family scripture study--when everyone is home from work and fed--but then time passes and I forget all about it.

But this is the age of memory assistance! Post-it notes, personal planners, the iphone, Blackberries, even the standard cell phone has alarms and calendars and notes! Forgetfuness has never, I believe, been easier to overcome.

Helaman 5: 12 "And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall."

Seems simple enough. Remember and be protected. Remember and be saved. Remember, remember, my sons and daughters.

So you like shopping?

I just read this book entitled, "I Want That!:How We All Became Shoppers". I, like many women, love to shop. Mostly. I also feel frustrated, overwhelmed, guilty, irritated and conflicted about shopping.

Lately I've been seeking for some sort of balance in the whole wanting and consuming cycle. What is okay to want? How much luxury can one have without crossing the line into decadence? How much of my "discretionary" income should be spent on entertaining me and my family and how much should be dedicated to the service of others? If I am blessed by God with more than enough money to meet the needs of my family, is it vain to spend that extra on luxury acquisitions and entertainment? I have no answers to these questions.

However, Thomas Hine, the guy who wrote the book I mentioned, refers to an idea about shopping that I find very interesting and not a little amusing. Mr Hine explains a theory postulated by an anthropologist named Daniel Miller. Here is his idea, quoted from "I Want That!" in the chapter entitled "Responsibility: Why Women Take Shopping Seriously":

Shopping has cosmic meaning.
"Shopping does connect with something deep, ancient, and widespread in human behavior... The shopper . . . is more like a priestess. And shopping is a ritual of sacrifice.

"A sacrifice, he says, consists of three stages. The first is the moment of expenditure, such as the slaying of the animal, the offering of the fruits. The second stage involves isolating that portion of the sacrifice that is sacred, which belongs to the gods. In several cultures, this is done when the entrails are burned and the smoke that rises into the air is viewed as the property of the gods. In Jewish tradition, blood, viewed as life itself, is the sacred portion. In Jewish ritual slaughter, it must be returned to God and not eaten by humans. The third part of the sacrifice is when the sacrifice becomes food, and people eat it.

"It's not difficult to see how the first and third aspects of sacrifice are part of daily life, but it's harder to discern the central stage. To what gods are things being sacrificed? And what is the part of it that belongs to the gods?

"Based on his interviews, Miller concluded that the central aspect of the shopper's sacrifice is the aspiration to thrift. Virtually every shopper to whom he spoke expressed a belief that shopping must be done carefully so that money won't be wasted. The shopper should look out for sale items, for coupons, or for items that, though they might be more expensive initially, will last longer and offer greater value in the long run. By striving to be thrifty, the shopper tells herself that she is making a sacrifice to ensure the future of her family. She is careful, not wasteful. By observing the rituals of coupons and discount cards, the shopper can reassure herself and demonstrate to others that she takes a sacred responsibility seriously.

"Shopping is a ritual, and like all rituals, it must be done properly or something will be lost. You must strive not to pay full price. The discounts you receive are an offering to the future."

Amusing, isn't it? I love it--it feels serious, yet it makes me laugh at the same time. It's also a kind of an explanation for why shopping feels so dang good when you get THE deal, and why you feel so virtuous when you pay much less than your purchase was "worth". It's definitely a kind of triumph when a shopper gets what she wants and pays less than she expects. I've felt this triumph so often that I have become "addicted" and I can't bear to pay "full price" (whatever that is) for anything.

This idea of shopping as ritual also has plenty of "good stewardship" overtones--and we all know that we have a responsibility for stewardship and thrift with our resources. How many times have we heard the counsel: live within our incomes, stay out of debt, save for a rainy day?!

However seriously you feel about consumption and excesses and whatever your definition of luxury and entertainment, spending hard-earned money on needed/desired goods is worth thinking about. I'm still setting my own limits and I'm sure they'll change depending on my income, my perception of "righteousness" and, more trivially, my mood and my hormones! Anyway, I still love this idea:

"Shopping is a ritual, and like all rituals, it must be done properly or something will be lost. You must strive not to pay full price. The discounts you receive are an offering to the future."

That's me, high priestess of the outlet mall.

Aristotle and Politics

I am reading Aristotle. Well, I'm trying to. Philosophy is like another language. I read a paragraph and then I read it again. And maybe still again. I'm a total ignoramus when it comes to philosophy.

Here's one of the ideas I've gleaned so far:

According to Aristotle, politics is the "highest" art because: "it is this that ordains which of the sciences should be studied in a state, and which each class of citizens should learn and up to what point they should learn them . . . Since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from..." therefore, politics "is most truly the master art." (Aristotle "Nicomachean Ethics" Book 1, chapter 2). Whew!

He goes on to clinch this argument by pointing out that since politics has the power to do the greatest good to the most people ("it is finer and more godlike to attain [good] for a nation or for city-states" than "merely for one man"), it is really the most authoritative art.

It seems that he's invested politics with far more power than I somehow imagine it having. It's so easy to scoff at the politicians, to be angry and disdainful at their posturing and their pontificating. But I think I have gotten into the habit of underestimating their effect on my day-to-day life. Science, literature, medicine, art... these all contribute greatly to my comfort and even to my survival. But Aristotle is correct--all of these are subject to legislation. What is available to me is available because the law allows it to be so. What is studied for my sake (and for the sake of all consumers) is studied because it was legislated or permitted to be taught. I really never thought about it this way. I get used to the idea that we are "free" and we are indeed free--to a wonderful and great extent. But.... consider how much of our freedoms have been legislated away and are now being legislated away in the name of "fairness" or "safety", etc. Very interesting.

Interesting too, because of his reference to the state dictating what their citizens should learn. This has been happening since compulsory public school first began, less than a century ago. And when compulsory public education began, it was with the idea of suiting the worker to the industry--therefore, policy really did dictate class education. And really, nothing has changed. Politics dictate curriculum. Every public school student studies what the state says he/she should study. Every person who opens a textbook or some other compilation of information is reading pre-digested material, chosen for him/her by someone else, some remote "expert". Is this bad? Probably not. But it's good to be aware of.

I hope we never lose the ability to access and understand original source writing. I am reading Aristotle (slowly and painfully) after reading a pre-digested summary of his philosophies. I find it hard work. This is because I am used to reading things that are simply written, with sound bite ideas and quotable thesis statements. I read things that are written for my rapid consumption, glittering with entertainment and leaving me wanting more. I do like this kind of reading material. There's definitely a place for it in my life (just check out my goodreads library). But Aristotle is reminding me that there should be a place for the real stuff too. I need to want substance as well as air.

Just Another Brick in the Wall

On tests to measure education: "If we stick only with the national exams as a means of [measuring children] . . . it is transparent and simple, but it will tend to narrow our definition of talent, and it will tend to narrow our definition of success." --Tharman Shanmugaratnam, Singapore's minister of education

On ADHD and drugs: "...there is a consensus that many children are being diagnosed with ADHD for the wrong reasons. This is part of a broader cultural shift. These days, rather than change the environment we live in, we prefer to rewire our brains to fit the environment. Shyness, anger, sadness and other "undesirable" emotions or traits are increasingly seen not as a natural part of the human condition but as diseases, symptoms of an imbalance in the chemistry of the brain, problems to be fixed with drugs . . . 'We are not prepared to live with variation as we did in the past,' says Professor David Healy, director of North Wales Department of Psychological Medicine. 'We want kids to conform to ideals based often on parental insecurities and ambitions.'" --from the book Under Pressure by Carl Honore

I believe there is too much pressure towards homogeneity and that our kids feel it the most. We school them to state and federal sameness. We test them by the same yardsticks. We push them into the same education and career paths. We expect them to conform to the societal mainstream that is dictated by the media--dress the same, act the same, have the same interests and likes. We want them to all behave the same: sit down, be quiet, get good grades, be cute, be polite. We want them all to have the same strengths: math, English, writing, sports..... etc etc.

We say we encourage individuality, but we don't really mean it.

When society pushes sameness, it invites dissatisfaction in everyone. We AREN'T all the same, of course, and pushing us all into the same mold makes everyone uncomfortable, and some of us desperately unhappy. Is this push for sameness what is causing our epidemic of depression?

When society pushes sameness, it punishes brilliance.

When society enforces homgeneity, it destroys genius.

When society punishes differences it feeds our fear of those who are different from us. We become bullies when we won't let others be who they are but instead push them into the boxes that are not made to fit them.

I don't know what I'm preaching here. It's not anarchy or rebellion or any kind of certain doom. But I really hope that I can be one of those people who is not afraid of differences and can look for and find the particular bent of genius in each individual and point it out and celebrate it. I'm not sure I am one of those visionary folks, but I'd certainly like to give it my best effort. No one should be "just another brick in the wall."

Time

Time is my enemy.

It pushes me into doing things I don't want to. When I have to meet a deadline, time brings it closer and closer, pressuring me into doing what I have to do to meet that deadline. I can't choose when I will do something--time forces me to do it arbitrarily. When I am eager to do something, time brings it to me slowly and then rushes me through it before I am ready to be done with it.

Time keeps me from doing all the things I do want to do. Time limits my reading, my piano playing, my shopping, my visiting. When I want to go on and on doing the things that make me happy, time runs out and I must stop and move on to what time next requires I do.

Time limits my contact with the people I love. Time keeps track of my phone calls and cuts them off before I am ready. Time sweeps away my vacations and holidays before I am ready for them to be gone. Time makes my husband go to sleep early when I want to talk, and it wakes him up early too. Then it dictates when he leaves the house and when he is able to return.

Time makes me tired because it goes so quickly when I read in bed and it causes my alarm to wake me before I have gotten enough sleep. I never get enough time to sleep because time is greedy and keeps itself all to itself. It rations my sleep and I'm always hungry for more.

Time takes my children from me. It passes without stopping and they grow and then they leave to spend their time in other pursuits. Time makes them forget many of the precious memories that we have forged together. Time separates us inexorably, taking them to other places and among other people. As time passes, these things must happen. If time were to stand still, could I freeze the best moments to hold forever?

Time hurts my body. It takes away my youth and brings me ever closer to my death. Its passing steals my flexibility, my energy, my hair color, my smooth skin, my clear eyes, my strong body.

Time takes away my grandparents and it will take away my parents too. It passes unstopping, leading them all to their old age, taking away their good health, their dignity, their independence and freedom, and enforcing their eventual death.

Time, this week, has run out for my young niece. Like a thief it has stolen her future. Like a dictator it has trampled over her wish to live. Time is my enemy because it keeps me from seeing her again for so very, very long. Time stands between me and togetherness with her and all the family I have lost to death. Time takes away my clear memories. Time will throw a blanket over the hole she has left in our lives. I don't want this hole to be disguised. I don't want to forget anything. I know I will see her again, but time makes me wait. Time will force me to be old and slow and diminished and dead before I can see again Carmen and all those others whom I love and who will have passed, or who have already passed.

So today I am not afraid of poverty or loneliness or even death or pain. Because I could stand all of these if time were not involved. But time sticks its pushy head in my business and makes all of the bad things last for an unspecified duration that I cannot control or stop. It makes the good things speed away. I want to grab those and keep them in the now. But it whisks them away farther out of my reach as every minute, hour, day, month and year passes. Unkindly, it slows down for that which is undesirable or painful. No one can stop it. No one can hold it fast. It just goes on and on, with its own will never challenged, always getting its way. This is why time is my enemy.

The Silken Tent

So, here's my favorite poem. It's by Robert Frost

The Silken Tent

She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.

I love this poem because I feel my own internal life is a balance between staying where I need to be, where I love to be... and wanting to run away, to escape. And this poem paints this special kind of bondage--the mom/wife/daughter/woman bondage--in such a beautiful way.

I must be a coward at some essential level of my soul because my first impulse in the face of any kind of stress or trouble is "RUN AWAY"! But when I most want to run away I look at what I would be running away from: everything that I love and all that brings me joy. And I know I couldn't be happier living any other life. This poem covers it all and I see myself: the silken tent with the heavenward sure core, standing free until the wind blows and then the guy ropes pull and I feel it. And sometimes it feels really windy and I feel all tied down. But like the poem says, my life is summertime and the tent is beautiful, and the central pole is solid and sure, and pointed towards Heaven.

Anyway, I love this poem. And there must be thousands, millions of women like me who wish to run away sometimes, but stay in their lives where there is beauty as well as there are burdens.

Carmen is sicker. She's grown a new tumor and this one has spread all down her spine. They go to the doctor tomorrow to discuss options. Carmen is in good spirits, her mom says. I am afraid to lose her.

And I do have my versions of running away. When I'm most worried I read almost non-stop. I can read 5 (or sometimes more) books in a day when I'm "running away". And I play the piano, especially when I am angry or frustrated. It's like, having the playing to concentrate on takes just enough brain power to slow everything in my head and heart down so I can cool down and consider things.

Life is good. I feel my ties tonight but I am happy to be "strictly held by none," but "loosely bound by countless silken ties of love and thought". I embrace the ties tonight and... I'm gonna read myself to sleep and read some more tomorrow. :)

Gimme gimme gimme

So, my life has been um.... challenging... lately in several categories. And I have for many many months now been praying for several specific outcomes. And, contrary to my expectations, my requests have not been granted by God.

When I first began my desperate prayerful requests I asked for immediate assistance. I had deadlines in my mind: if You, God, do not send this by this date, then life as I know it will end. Those sorts of things. And God missed every deadline. I thought my life could not continue in the comfortable fashion I have become addicted to without those requirements met....and they were not met.

[The aside here is how my life is still just as comfortable and happy and how my shoulders have broadened to carry my burdens, how my mind has expanded to imagine solutions that seemed impossible, how events align so that the eventualities I fear, the disasters that I imagine could send me over the edge--these never happen and life goes on in safe and comforting patterns. And how what I was sure could not be endured actually CAN be endured and even learned from. But this is an aside--too important not to mention, but not directly pertinent to what I'm talking about here]

So when first my requests were unfulfilled I observed my behavior: I was angry at God. I didn't want to talk to Him any more. I pouted. My observing self noticed that I was indulging in the same behavior that my own children exhibit when their wishes are denied. No matter if the refusing parent has a logical and sound reason for those denials, the childish reaction is the same: petulant, sulking, resentful. I saw these feelings and behaviors in myself. Like God was my sugar daddy who had unexpectedly denied my latest whim. Like He exists to give me what I ask for. As if He were falling down on the job.

However, childish reactions aside, not receiving Divine assistance in the ways that I requested really bothered me. My desires were righteous. They were unselfish. And they feel quite desperate. I feel that I deserve to get what I'm so fervently asking for. So I began to wonder: what is prayer for?

When you take away getting what you ask for, then what's left? When people bear testimony of prayer, inevitably it's because they got what they asked for. I can't even count the number of times I've heard something that began like this: "I'd like to bear my testimony of prayer because God answered my prayer for....."

There are little shadows of other sides to prayer. There are stories in the scriptures of prayers for relief being answered with strength to continue suffering. We've all heard stories of prayers not being answered for years. One lady I admired greatly said that God has 3 basic answers to prayer: "yes", "no" and "not right now". And of course there has been lots said about building a relationship with God through prayer. I am not forgetting these things about prayer.

But somehow the biggest impression I have had in my mind is that when you have a need, a righteous desire, pray to God and He will give it to you. There are actually scriptures that say this kind of thing quite explicitly. But I have experienced more than once having a need that was desperate, a need that I took to God, a need that He chose not to fulfill. And I have realized that I have an incomplete understanding of what prayer is. Somehow I have imagined it as being mainly a tool to get what I want. And not getting what I want has brought me smack into my shallow perceptions. Can I really be this superficial in my approach to God? So I've been working to expand my understanding.

And I don't know that I understand any better, but my heart has changed its feelings about prayer. It started when I was talking to my brother Reed about this (I asked how he bears having his prayers for Carmen's healing not answered in the way that he wishes) and one of the things he said was something he'd read in the Bible dictionary: that prayer was work. I don't know why this rang bells in my mind, but it started me off on a whole new track of thought about prayer. The first and most obvious thought I had was that I had overlooked the idea that prayer is my duty as well as my privilege. That it is a commandment for me to be on my knees at least twice a day and to pray in my heart many many more times. Just those thoughts were enough to soften my heart and change my feelings about prayer.

So currently I have no hard definition of what prayer is about. I know for certain that it's not a means to an end. It's not what I do to get what I need or want (although prayer does serve this end sometimes). But it's far more than that and I'm finding out what it really is for me. I am starting with the idea that I will work to be on my knees as often as I can with no expectations of reward from God. I will pray with no agenda. I will continue to make my requests, of course, and continue to hope for fulfillment of all of them, but somehow it seems so obvious to me that it is His will that will be served and not mine and that is so obviously correct and safe that I cannot be dissatisfied.

Well, that's where I am for now on this. I've obviously got a lot more to figure out. Just like all of my thoughts and impressions--there are no permanent conclusions. Every new experience (mine and those of others) lead to a reevaluation of my previous ideas. It's all a journey and I am one of those who just has to talk it all out all along the way. You know.