Embarassing Day

 First, a slight rant against a religion class.  On my final I was asked a question about my study habits. Through the semester our teacher posted several videos online of apostles speaking about New Testament doctrine, stories, and characters.  The last question of the final (worth 12 points out of 200 so 6% of the test) asked how many of the videos did I watch through the semester.  I have watched maybe half a dozen.  I couldn't play them on my computer.  What I saw was information I knew and mostly came from General Conferences of the past.  I answered honestly knowing I'd lose 11 points.  I do not know why I answered honestly.  I'm not even glad I did.  I'm frustrated that my study habits were being questioned.  The test is to prove acquisition of knowledge not how it was obtained.  The test shows understanding of a subject not how often it has been studied.  The test is to permit passage to a higher difficulty in the subject not show the diligence in work to get there.

Sorry friends, I have one more thing.  I do not like BYU's grading system.  It produces what appears to be an influx of B students.  I have classes that require a 94% to get an A in them.  Maybe that is the standard we should be graded on.  But I've shot for a 90% my whole life.  Well, a 92% in case I mess up on a final.  So I'm getting an A- in many of my classes.  This would appear as a 4.0 at NAU and at many other universities I'm sure, but here it appears as a 3.75 (which is not even high enough for most scholarships mind you).  3.75 came from having a few B's, not by having straight A's.  Also frustrating, but something I'm slowly caring less about.

Honestly, today might be the most embarrassing I've had in a very long time.  I just missed my Arabic final.  All week I've been telling myself 2 to 5, that's my last final, Friday from 2 to 5.  Well, it was actually 11 to 2 today, which is what I wrote down in my planner.  But why would I check that when I knew it was from 2 to 5...  On my way to the final I ran into a guy from the class riding away.  I asked where he was going.  So I even found out I had completely missed it before walking into the class in front of everyone.  Instead I got to quietly wait around the corner, talk to my professor, and figure things out.  What this means is an answer to a prayer, honestly.  I've been wondering a lot if I should retake Arabic 101.  I love the language and I want to be good at it.  I want to understand this stuff but it never clicked this semester.  If I had gotten a C in the class I probably would have tucked my tail and kept going, never catching up.  But this forces me to retake the class.  I failed.  Outright.  First F in a class of my life.  But when I retake it I'll be able to focus on what isn't clicking.  I can learn the names of letters, get better at numbers, do all the homework, memorize more, and speak more clearly.  It is not what I would have said I wanted (a good grade) but it is what I want (to really understand Arabic).  Hey, life is good.

I'm the King of New York!

Well, not really, but I do wish.  On that note though, Newsies is set to hit the Broadway in a few months.  This might be one of the few events I've honestly waited the majority of my life to happen.  It's weird.

New York was glorious.  Such an adventure.  Just getting there was fun.  I was walking to the bus and was early (6:30 pm).  A bus was leaving right when I walked up, but that was no big deal because the had planned on was a little later.  Except a little later became a lot later because it was rather late.  Which made me late for my train.  Which made me late for my second bus.  Barely late.  Like, I can see the bus I need to get on pulling into the parking lot as the train is slowing down late (9 pm).  So I had to take a taxi instead because no more buses ran that night.  My cabbie is a Sudanese refuge who moved to Salt Lake City at the turn of the millennium.  Crazy.  Awesome too.  Good man.  I get to the airport and find I can't check in my luggage because it is too late.  Well, that's fine because my flight isn't until 5:30 am the next day.  I make a call though to see when they open up to check baggage.  I was told 5 am.  Thirty minutes to get through security and get to my gate?  Sounded like an adventure.  It ends up they opened at around 4:30 am so it worked out fine.  But I slept in the airport that night.  Not too bad actually.

New York is so neat.  I met up with JJ and Kelli at the baggage claim and then we traveled to Grand Central Station (we stayed in a hotel over it, the Hyatt).  The graffiti in Queens is quite superb.  Not only the symbols and designs but locations.  And many of them were advertising which I think is neat.

We ate so much food.  It was nice to be full.  And we sang so much.  My voice is not used to singing for four hours straight.  We sang under the direction of John Rutter (you would probably recognize his music.  He was commissioned to write one of the songs for the Royal Wedding in England this last summer).  So, I had six songs to practice before arriving in New York.  We ended up performing more than twice that many.  None of them were too difficult, but I've never had to use sight reading types so desperately.  Thank you Mr. Manz.  And the concert was just a delight to be in.  The orchestra and the power of the music and the audience, it was all great.  Carnegie Hall is unlike any other performing space I've been in.  The wings are walled off so they don't mess up your acoustics.  Also, there is also no light above the stage so that there is less open space to take away from the acoustics.  Which would make quick entrances and lighting a nightmare.  But this is Carnegie Hall, where the audience is in no rush to be entertained and they aren't here for dancing or acting.  The sound is all that matters and the hall delivers.

And we traveled all over the place.  We saw Follies on Broadway.  Lovely show.  It is by Sondheim so the emphasis is on social commentary through the music, which is almost an overwhelming focus.  We went to the Bodies exhibit (which was shorter than I was expecting).  It was neat to see the real parts of the body connecting and doing their thing.   I do like New York pizza.  We went on a river cruise after the concert.  When we got to the pier and things looked familiar, but I didn't know why.  Well, that was true until we walked up the ramp onto the boat.  It was the exact same company, the exact same pier, and the exact same ship I had been on for the exact same river cruise in 2005 with Alyssa Fabia while in New York for the People to People conference.  Ridiculous!  Other neat places were the Manhattan Temple (I got to participate in sealings for the first time!  Natalie-the-Elder and I really wanted to go, so we just made it happen), Battery Park, Central Park (so big, so varied, and so cool.  There was a musical group that just started playing and some roller-skating group came up and started dancing with them.  Fun to watch), the Brooklyn Bridge, and Grand Central Station.  I love New York.  It has such a feel to it.  A real pulse.  A life unlike any other.  The variety is so wonderful.  One of my favorite moments was watching a Hasidic Jew being helped by a Sikh at a food stand (Sikhs are the ones who wear the turbans and are often mistaken for Arabs).  It just seemed so right and good.

Zion

I am waiting until it's time to go to the bus stop for New York.

Zion seemed to come up a lot this last week.  Sunday's Best gathered to hold a Thanksgiving Potluck.  It was magnificent!  The turkey was worth the wait, Japanese curry was a treat, pie and cobbler, green beans, fantastic mashed potatoes, and more than enough for everyone.  Then we talked on Zion.  What is it?  Will we see it?  Is it really to be seen?  Where will it be?  What will it do?

The tenth article of faith was quoted, "We believe in the literal gathering of Israel and in the restoration of the Ten Tribes; that Zion (the New Jerusalem) will be built upon the American continent; that Christ will reign personally upon the earth; and, that the earth will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal glory."  Is this a timeline?  If it is then Zion will form before Christ comes and after the gathering the lost tribes.  It was mentioned by separate sources that ten of the tribes have been identified in Mongolia and in Russia (not surprising as that is the East of Jerusalem.  Oh, a shout out to the Hmongs, they claim that they return to Mongolia, the land of their fathers, when the pass away).  Or what if the gathering is what incites Zion to start forming a physical location?  Or what if the gathering is by tribe, each claiming its own land but all tribes being united in heart and mind?  Will we call Zion by its name before Christ comes, will we recognize it for what it is while we live in it?

And what does being of one heart and one mind mean?  I pondered that a lot with my companions.  I imagine being of one heart means having the same desires.  And when it was just me with my companion then I felt being of one mind meant having the same methods to reach our goals.  But to apply to a community that feels exclusive.  The gospel is not a funnel.  We do not all become the same as we come closer to Christ and Heavenly Father.  There are certain things that move us forward but has God treated all His children the same when they make mistakes?  No, because He knows as long as we are alive we can change so He gives each of us our best situation to succeed.  He needs diversity and so will Zion.

We were talking about the Millenium during priesthood earlier that day.  The two subjects go together well.  We were talking about Satan during those thousand years.  He will be bound.  Why?  Because of us?  Christ will not come and suddenly everyone will be converted to His kingdom.  Every knee shall bow and every tongue confess, but that can simply mean they accept Him as the best leader for the moment.  They do not have to follow Him, especially not with their hearts.  Think of when Christ came to the Americas.  It took a long time before everyone agreed to the new order.  So the opportunity to sin will still be open to all.

Revelation reports that before Christ comes there will be a great battle.  I imagine it might be fought between Zion and those of the Sign of the Beast.  What that sign will be I don't know.  But those without the sign will be denied food, shelter, medicine, and safety.  What will designate who gets to have a sign or not?  I don't know.  But they'll be different so they will be sent away.  Maybe they'll think differently and hold protests asking that everyone be let into the cities.  Maybe they'll look different and want to not shave their armpits.  Maybe they'll dream differently.  Maybe they'll love differently.  I do not know why they'll be rejected.  But I do know that they'll be welcome in Zion.  That will be our duty, protecting the rejected of society.  Imagine that.  We, as a church and people, will be responsible for accepting the rejects: the gays, the extremists, the hippies, those who occupy Wall Street, the high school drop outs, the multi-racial, the neo-nazis, the bald, the handicapped, and everyone else who doesn't fit in (not that these groups do not fit in, but they are groups historically separated by the mainstream).  Are you ready for that?  Could you be one of the founders of Zion?  And to make it more strenuous, we won't turn them away if they do not believe as we do.  We will accept them without reservation.  If they seek to destroy us, our peace, our families, our religion, or our God we might turn them away.  We might.  I hope we won't though.  As long as they live in peace we will never turn them away, even if they hate us for helping.  Are you ready?

Prayer

Sunday was magnificent.  Testimony meetings are so funny because everyone gets maybe a minute to share how they feel and it still goes over.  I really appreciate that about our bishop, I can see him watching the clock and worried about time but he never rushes or denies anyone.  And he is very perceptive.

One of the lessons was on prayer.  We talked about several of the scriptural stories that are great examples of prayer can and should be: Enos, Nephi, Alma, Paul, etc.  Then we heard an unconventional dialogue between a man praying and God's real-time responses.  It was good because of how accurate it was so often.  I received a neat realization.  When I give a blessing I ask the recipient what they want, what they need, what troubles they are having lately.  I ask the Lord to guide me in what to say.  I make sure I'm worthy.  I fast in preparation when I can.  I am solemn and take all the time I need.  Afterwards I usually try to talk to person about how they feel and if they have any questions.  When I receive a blessing I record what I'm supposed to do and what has been promised.

What is the difference between prayer and a blessing? The more I've thought about it the closer they seem.  I should be asking myself what I want and need.  I should be thinking over the previous day and the next several to see any trials occurring and mercies along the way.  I should ask the Lord to help me know what I need and how to express it in words.  Setting aside enough time really helps.  Afterwards, listen to how I feel, if I have any more questions, and if there is anything I still need to receive and digest.  Recording it afterwards is a really good idea too.

Policy or Doctrine?

Is it policy or doctrine?  Is the rule something we use now because of circumstance or is it a divine law eternally?  How do we know?  Are we meant to?  What about issues that are not covered by either, only by uncodified opinion of the masses?  These things worry me.
Public policy of a government is often surrounded by rhetorical reasoning and emotion that practically seduces us into subjection.  And political doctrine we simply call law.  No eternal kingdom could exist with such frivolous attempts at control.
Doctrines have existed before this life and will always be in effect, even influencing the identity of God.  They are often easy to identify because of their eternal nature.  If something has been always and will be always then it must be doctrine.  But our vision is awfully limited to chronological distance.  I wonder if Jews thought the Ten Commandments and subsequent Law were eternal in nature.  Many forms of Christianity I've learned from certainly seem to feel that the New Testament has always existed.  Maybe not in its present form, but certainly in its ideas and discussion.  And yet there are obvious cases where what was felt to be doctrine was really just policy.
The Judaizers in 1 Corinthians strongly felt that circumcision was a doctrine.  It was required of the patriarchs and their families' so it followed that it must be required still.  But Paul does a wonderful job explaining the difference between the law and faith and how the two must work together for our salvation (not just our cleansing).  Also, how such sacrifices were no longer required after the sacrifice of the Lamb.  Circumcision was a policy, but it was a policy for thousands of years!  It would require sight much sharper than most (certainly sharper than mine) to recognize this as mere policy instead of doctrine.
Polygamy was a policy.  This is quite confusing because it was a policy taught several times by several people, all inspired by God for their time.  How do you deduce policy from doctrine when they come from the same source, the leader of the church (who in turn, receives it from the Lord)?  But why was it apart of the church?  Why then?  I've heard a plethora of suggestions.  So many man had fallen in battle and someone needed to take care of their young widows.  One recent theory that appeals to me is that the church needed something it could sacrifice to man to become accepted.  It is quite difficult to help those who despise you.  So many Americans and groups opposed the church in the mid-19th century.  Polygamy could have been used as a scapegoat for their aggression and once the church stopped the practice we we were more accepted as pretty decent folk.
The next issue for us is homosexuality.  Doctrine or policy?  There is some doctrine on the matter, it is just as any other sexual sin and it has the same consequences.  I can find little doctrine beyond that.  The policies are a little fuzzier, especially when there are no policies and we substitute our own opinions.  Anyone can be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints if they are willing to make sacred promises and keep them.  Anyone can attend sabbath services.  An openly gay man can hold a leadership position in the church (I've heard of several cases in California, no surprise).  But do gays and lesbians feel accepted at sacrament meeting?  It isn't policy to make anyone feel uncomfortable at church and it is certainly not doctrine to turn someone away, but do we sometimes enforce this as a unspoken rule?  I feel confident I can say some LGBTQ's feel just fine in our churches, which is only a start.  Why would some not feel comfortable?  Since this is a church of charity and accepting others as beautiful individuals, what affect can I have to put the church in a position to change policy and non-policy?
I can do nothing to change another person's mindset or their decisions, but what I can do is help them feel loved and comfortable.  If I did all I could to help someone feel a part of this family they would still be able to choose whether or not they wanted to be there, but at least I gave them that choice.  If I ostracize someone because of their sexuality (or race or number of children or workplace or anything) then I effectively take away their choice on whether to be at church or not.  Yes, they could still show up each week with their head held high and stand valiantly against my ridicule and rudeness, but those individuals are few.  (not many actually like the fire.  Being thrust in for a moment by another force is one thing, but how many willingly choose to step up onto the pyre and burn?)
So we must love people, everyone, openly and fiercely.  Just as I cannot force a gay man to feel comfortable in a church, I cannot force a congregation to accept him in their church.  But if I love him and treat him as the wonderful brother and equal that he is, others will eventually treat him the same.  I hope.  Not all will.  But I can help some of that congregation feel more comfortable, more trusting, more accepting.  That is the start.  If I'm consistent in my treatment of him (and everyone else, for that matter) as a loved sibling who is unique in his trials, his feelings, his thoughts, his goals, and his abilities then I can start the cycle we need.
We change policies day by day, choice by choice.

Old Poems

First, random thoughts:
I kinda dread fashion.  I try to look nice but do not care enough to figure out how.  Some days I just get lucky.  Male fashion at BYU is fairly ordinary, except for Taggart who always looks great in a vest (at least every time I've seen him).  The gals on the other hand, crickey!  High-waisted skirts?  Rather strange.  I'd like most of them, length and design, if they weren't clinging to their rib cages by a ridiculously wide belt.  But I'm just a long skirt kind of guy.  It sways.  Remember the curtain that hid the Wizard of Oz.  That is what skirts do for me.  It is the gentle notion that I really have no idea what is under there but it must be powerful and beautiful to move the rest of her.  Is that the adventurers' spirit?  The beauty in mystery.  Will it still be as beautiful once it is realized?
Snow is great.  I love snow.  Everything about it really.  It is better than rain because it doesn't necessarily get you wet.  It is cold and helps me clear my head.  You can build with it.  You can throw it.  Snow is the lego of winter.  You can do anything with it.  It is even great for washing your hands (because the ice is rough and scrapes off gunk but it melts too so it removes it too)  And it is beautiful.  So serene.  This last week it snowed one afternoon and as I looked at the mountains the snow line was just below the Y.  It looked like someone had taken a giant paint roller over the top half of the mountain with white, but only once so that there were still some spots bare.  I really appreciated the sight.

This morning I stumbled upon a random book of poetry (from 80 years ago!)  Still in good condition.  Flipping through it, I found two of my favorite poems, "O Captain, My Captain" and "Horatius."

"O Captain, My Captain" is one of those poems that comes to mind over and over.  It is like the game or "Here Comes the Sun," so many events connect to it that it has a certain sorrow to it, a certain reflection.  Generally events revolving around death, such as Gordon B. Hinckley's passing, but even when President Jardine's mission ended it was in the forefront of my mind.  The poem amazes me because it shares so much excitement and disappointment.  The victory was won, they were home, everyone was safe.  Well, every was safe except the captain.  The best among them was the fallen, the sacrifice.
Increasingly I see Christ all around me.  In the beauty of mystery, one reason I love the Gospel is that there is always more to learn, understand, and share.  In the snow, I doubt it was just for me but knowing that Heavenly Father loves me enough to send a little snow to a boy in need of memories means a lot.  He also loved me enough to send someone more pure than snow to cleanse me without the cold.  We're gonna make it home because of our Captain.  We will all reside in safe harbors someday because our Captain led us there.  Even for those who do not like Him, they are on His boat and will arrive safely to shore where they can then decide to leave Him and His crew.  He loves them enough to give them that choice.  I hurt when I read this poem.  It is a good hurt.  A necessary hurt.  I hurt when I, step by step, find parallels and symbols of Christ's sacrifice.  It is a good hurt.  A necessary hurt.  Probably what hurts the most is wondering who will I captain and will I do the same for them?

My father has memorized several poems.  As he has aged some have steadily slipped from his mind.  I remember long rides through the countryside of Nebraska and hanging on every line of the "Jabberwocky" as he recited it.  Another childhood favorite was "Horatius," a real hero of ancient Rome (actually, the word "hero" is derived from his name.  At least that is what dad always told me and I'm not about to find out if it is wrong).  The poem is rather long but weaves a wonderful story.  A gruesome fight.  Rome might fall.  Three heroes step forth to defend the bridge.  The townsfolk start tearing the bridge down as the three fight off enemy after enemy.  The bridge is almost down and the city is almost secure.  The townsfolk cry out to the heroes to return.  Horatius stays to make sure.  He is wounded, a deep slash to his thigh.  The only way home now is death or to swim across the swollen river that is to be the cities salvation.  He leaps in.  Allies and enemies cheer him onward as he swims and struggles.
What hits my heart is the depth of the poem.  It is no philosophical subject, it tells the story of a fight and some heroics.  But the details are so easily processed that you can see everything going on.  You throw yourself into the story, fearing you'll miss out an ounce of the adventure.  The immersion is so deep that you find the messages that are not there in words but in paintings.  Would I have stood with the three?  Would I have gone back when my battle was done?  Would I have given praises to God when my enemy made it home?  These are tough questions for me.  I will never have to fight with a sword.  The stands I might be called to make will probably involve no tool of death.  Words will be fired.  Conceptions will be cut apart.  Can I stand together?  Can I stand alone?  I find it dangerous to think "I can do it because Christ could do it" because it leads me to "if Christ could do it, I can too."  That is not true.  But I do know that I can accomplish anything in front of me as long as I'm doing it for the right reason (which also means there are things I cannot do because there is no right reason for doing it), the Lord gave me at least that much power.

Count Your Many Blessings

This was a stressful weekend, until I let myself rest. The Sabbath means a lot to me. It did not always. I remember one time, as a child, being so angry about having to get ready to go to church that I used the railing on my bed as a battering ram into the wall. My parents were not happy. I do not remember the punishment. I am embarrassed that I every felt so agitated by church. I also remember Eric telling me that worms were now able to crawl through the hole at night and that they kissed me on the lips while I slept (I still maintain I had the greatest childhood ever).

In an act of extreme mercy, this weekend was building up to be one of the most stressful of school so far. Of course it was also General Conference. I have decided that more and more I need to take each moment as it comes and people and adventures over rest and personal advancement. There are exceptions. Not going to Las Vegas was a difficult but important one. Our house was invited to attend breakfast and the Saturday morning session with some fantastic girls from our ward so I went to that. Then someone decided we should go up to Salt Lake City and watch the afternoon session in the Tabernacle. So we went up there. Then we found Merritt and several friends from Prescott (it was really good to see him again). Then we went to dinner and started heading to Priesthood session. We had two tickets and seven guys. By the time we got to the Conference Center we had seven tickets. They came from everywhere. Girls from Prescott, friends we brought with us from Provo, strangers as we walked. It was miraculous honestly. On the way home we stopped by the home of an old friend of Merritt. She fed us peaches and raspberries. Fantastic. Then we got home just before midnight.

Sunday was similar. We watched the morning session with the gals from the previous morning. We watched the afternoon session at our apartment from a projector Travis borrowed. Then we went back to the gals apartment for a fantastic dinner one of them (Zina) put together. Then went back to our place to set up Spiritual Sunday Cinema.

Things I needed to do on Saturday:
Study for an art test on Monday and memorize at least sixteen different pieces of art by name, artist, and date.
Research and write a paper on dance history. The research had to be done at the library.
Study for my geography midterm on Monday.
Find my wallet.
Find a date or make plans for a date this week since they fell through again...

Things that the Lord did for me this weekend:
My dance paper got moved back to Wednesday.
My geography midterm got moved back to Thursday.
I found my wallet in a pair of shorts I had worn last week.
I was able to get to sleep relatively early on Sunday and took several short naps while studying all morning and might have done alright on the test, though I do not know the results yet. Honestly, I felt like I made very basic and shallow points but I do not know if they were the points that I was supposed to make. But I got the studying done that I needed.
Plans for dates are in action.

He is a pretty amazing Lord. I do not know why things work out the way that they do, but it is a miracle. For that, I am thankful.

Alternative Sunday School

Each week we hold Spiritual Sunday Cinemas here at the Moore's home on Sunday evening. We invite everyone to play games, partake of hot koolaid and popcorn, and watch an uplifting movie. It's grand. It was there I met Rachel, who mentioned that she was late because of Alternative Sunday School (which is hosted by her apartment). I was intrigued so I asked a lot about it. Well, finally, last week I was able to attend. While my expectations were quite high I was amazed by how I underestimated it.

Hearing about it I assumed it would be some organized lesson for people who might not normally be comfortable at church, for whatever reason. A way to still be spiritually fed while some barrier exists. For a lot of reasons I was really excited by this idea of a more relaxed and comfortable gospel education. Feeling comfortable at church has never really been my forte being the most forefront.

It was even better. We gathered in a circle. People came and went. Herbal tea was shared. We had a mediator with a topic he had been pondering a lot lately, the scriptures and how he was having difficulty using them as a primary source for spirituality (especially since he returned from his mission). He asked some basic questions about how we use to the scriptures to feel the spirit and other ways we find the spirit through each day.

There was no expectations. No one had to speak. No one had to be quiet. It was peaceful discussion, everyone trying to help their neighbor or be helped (and for most of us I think we were seeking both). We talked and worked through it. As questions arose we addressed them without judgment or anticipation. Everyone was free to speak their heart and mind.

What was so amazing to me was that whenever I've seen groups like this come together there is tension. Someone trying to prove something. Some agenda. It gets expressed with hasty words or personal questions. None of that happened though. It was freeing. Like there was a giant cauldron in the middle of the room and everyone was free to pour as much of themselves into it as they wanted and everyone was free to take out as much as they needed. And it was spiritual. We all accepted each other's claims and opinions. We came knowing we knew a lot as individuals but very little compared to our whole. We were open to expansion.

How does such a group come about? Could it be replicated? Will it continue when the founding woman leaves? I don't know. I can hope. Engaging intellectuals takes perpetual growth, it has that potential.

Provo, Utah

Well, I've been here a few weeks. It's awesome! I realize I needed to go to Northern Arizona for that year for oh so many reasons. Friends, relationships, teachers, judo, the church, late nights, sleepless nights, midnight bike rides, photography, and distance taught me so much that I needed right then. I wonder if I would have found all of it at BYU. I don't think so. I needed a little more dirt to appreciate the squeaky clean feeling. I do miss some things, especially best friends.

I love having the mountains so close. The mornings are great because the mountain keeps campus cool into the late morning. Riding my bike is so relaxing. Flowing and interpreting pedestrian traffic is a simple pleasure. My classes are great. I'm learning how to folk dance (last week we worked on a Romanian dance and this week is Mexican Polka. How awesome is that?). I'm taking shotokai karate (I can't find judo anywhere!). No music this semester...which is weird. No science either. Lots of changes in my education. I'm also learning Arabic which is so difficult but so satisfying. I'm really glad I learned some French, somehow it makes it easier, except when I can't find the Arabic word while talking and choose the French one instead. The ward I'm in is fantastic and our home evening group is just a gem to my week. Oh yeah, and living with the Moore's is a constant entertainment.

This morning Neil L. Andersen visited BYU today for a devotional. He spoke of honesty and integrity. It was quite good, but the part that hit me the hardest was just at the end. He told me that if I sought to perfectly honest in all things that it would become a light that could shine from me. That is the light I want. I've been trying so hard to find it. I feel it is so close at times but that I get too startled or scared and repress it. I want to trust the light. I want to trust what others see when I'm in the light. I want trust myself to be a light for others.

Amidst the massive attack against my social insecurity to turn every activity into a date, I am it nice and peaceful to get to know people and have fun. Our bishop challenged our ward to go on a date a week for the rest of our lives. I think that is a really neat idea. We'll see how it works out, starting Friday night. Jeremy and I are going on a double date to World of Dance, which I am very excited for because it is going to be a fantastic show but also because of those who will be attending with us.

A few answers to prayers. I found out just before I came up to BYU that I had enough saved up, because of the generosity of so many to actually attend school. This has allowed me to take a lot of classes and get involved with BYU. I got housing the day I got back from Sacramento. I paid my fast offering this month. On Sunday night we came home with a box of donuts and other sweets. Last night I came home with a couple bags of food. I have been asking how I could bring the light back to my eyes and this morning Neil L. Andersen told me one path. I needed to talk to my department's advisor to add another class but she was gone yesterday which was the last day to add classes. I got an e-mail at 9:30 pm telling me I had permission to take the class. At 11:30 pm, I felt like I should check my e-mail one last time, just in case by some random act of humanity she checked her e-mail early and gave me permission. I was able to sign up for the class. I've needed some closure and it has slowly been coming.

Life is good, Zion grows, and God loves us. I see that a lot, every day really.

Prescott, AZ

Farewell lovely land of the mountains. I hardly spent four weeks with you but already miss your sunsets, downtown, evening breezes, and the comfort of knowing my way around even if I couldn't remember how.

Prescott is one of my favorite places. Not necessary because of the people, but because of so many individuals that make up the blood of the city. It's tried and old blood in general but frightfully alive and pure in a way. It has a less intense sucking sensation compared to California but I feel as if a part of me has been left there, not with the people or with family but with the city: the rooftops, the gazebo next to the courthouse, St. Michaels, Firehouse Square, the tunnels (I missed the art rooms on this recent tour and am sad), the shops, and oh so many places.

Grab some gelato and walk down Whiskey Row. Eat some lunch at St. Michaels. Compare the murals and statues hidden amongst public facilities (the parking garage and library for example). Explore a lake or the dells as the sun sets. Traverse a storm drain to test some true underground art once the lights are low. Make even Aladin jealous as you finish the evening bounding from rooftop to rooftop watching people and the city drift into a stupor. It's majestic.

King's Canyon

This is the return from a wonderful week in King's Canyon, California. A few years ago my dad approached me asking if I wanted to go on an adventure with him. Sounded like a good idea. He told me to pick what I wanted to do. I suggested backpacking through Scotland. He marveled at the idea. Too much time past and suddenly I was on my mission. Then he thought Glacier National Park would be fun because we could hike into Canada if we wanted to. Due to an unusual amount of snow this year the park has only barely started opening so that fell through. So instead I returned to California's beautiful landscape for a week of backpacking.

It was marvelous. Breathtaking at times. King's Canyon is adjacent to Sequoia National Park, so it contains very old and very large trees. We went up the Lewis Creek Trail (apparently an unpopular and thus ill-kept trail. It tended to be overgrown at times and occasionally gave up on switchbacks at the steepest parts). It was Tuesday when we started hiking. We were planning on having at least a little trouble getting the pass we wanted but nope when we got there no one else was in line. But getting up early was a good thing. Dad saw a black bear at the main campsite that morning. I thought he was joking so I stayed in my sleeping bag, sad day. It was the only bear we encountered.

True to form, we got lost a couple times on the way to our main camp. The hike was just gorgeous though. We mostly followed a creek to Frypan Meadow. So we had plenty of water and foliage. Lots of wildflowers. About a mile before camp we could not find the trail at all though. We had come to a small hilltop and a good fifty yards of the trail disappeared into a thicket of these nasty, prickly plants. Eventually, having gotten frustrated being lost, we prayed to know where to go. Once we finished Dad looked up and saw a section of the trail just above us. It was a nice miracle. That night a group of five, three brothers and two of their sons, descended upon our camp. They had been hiking a long loop that went the opposite direction of us. Very nice. The boys were hilarious, telling us stories about all sorts of things they had seen.

The next day we hiked Kennedy's Peak. Well, maybe...it might have only been some other nearby peak, but we did make it to the pass. On the way up we again crossed several streams, one of which had a waterfall. I decided to climb up the waterfall (the side of it really) to see how high it went. It was a small waterfall, not even eight feet high. While climbing though I dislodged a rock which was followed by a small rockslide which crushed the big toe on my left foot. I was kinda stuck where I was though so I kept climbing and afterward found out my toenail was bleeding. After washing it out I realized I was gonna lose the toenail (I'm still waiting for it to fall off though). When we got to the top we were looking down on all the mountains in many miles. It was astounding. The wind was cool and refreshing. On the other side of the pass there was still several inches of snow covering the entire trail for maybe a quarter mile. This would have been no trouble except the slope was probably 45 degrees or so. Slipping meant falling very fast. We made it down with a bit of luck and light feet so we could refill our water bottles and then headed back up so we could get back to camp. The lakes up there were awesome. Huge! And the water tasted so good, even after being filtered.

The next day involved two failed hikes. We started to one destination but found the path nearly impossible to follow. And I had sunburned the tops of my feet the previous day so clambering through all the foliage was painful. So on our way back to camp we tried another site but were too tired to make it up the last hill. Still, it was lovely country. So many lizards. And deer often visited out campsite. After returning to the main camp in Frypan Meadow we played a little frisbee. That night we were visited by Charlie, also from Southern California. He had hiked the loop by himself. A very polite third-grade teacher, he confused his wife was always bothered and very worried about him when he did things like this (hiking by himself) but he just couldn't get away. He told us that the trail we took was the worst trail, in terms of upkeep, he had seen in the park and gave us some suggestions for our next adventure.

The next day we hiked back down off the mountain and drove back to Prescott. Just a lovely trip. There were several times I felt very close to that higher power. The feeling that something so magnificent was created for us to enjoy. It was not corrupted or commercialized. It was serene in those mountains. I got to think a lot. Put things in order and discover what I need. Talking to dad was also very nice, hearing his stories and asking advice. I've learned a lot. Life is good.

And we're off

Just so I feel comfortable starting right into this, I write this. As I am about to start the beginning of several adventures and travels I want to just keep track of where I am and what I'm thinking. The plan is to write something when I get there about my first impressions and one when I leave that place to recollect what I learned. I tell you this to keep myself accountable.

Current goals:
Go to Jerusalem and study Arabic and local histories there.
Backpack through Scotland.
Return to Sacramento and revisit memories.
Find my place in Provo.
Find an adventurer to bring along.