Being center but not central

So I've been wondering how I can feel so introverted sometimes and seem so extroverted at other times. I like being around people even if they make me uncomfortable and drain me. I doubt I'm a social masochist, so here is my other explanation.

Being the center of attention can be great. When I tell a story I am at the center of attention. Rules are established. I am doing my job as storyteller to be quick and entertaining. Others are doing their job to listen and chime in when appropriate. I am the center, but I am not central. The story is central, the audience is central, but I just happen to be in the midst. This is a comfortable and satisfying place. One can receive praise and love without fear of making any damaging mistakes.

But, say someone gives me a gift and they wait to watch me open it. Or someone wants to celebrate something I've done by throwing me a party. Suddenly I have to not only be proud of whatever it is I've done (graduated, destroyed all evil, survived another year, whatever) but I have to appear excited and grateful for their efforts on my behalf as well. Suddenly I am awash in pressure. My reaction matters to the person and a poor one might mean a poor relationship in the future. I am being made not only the center of attention, but central. With little context I have to figure out the appropriate things to do to maintain social status quos. It is uncomfortable and scary.

Now, this happens to everyone, but we should probably stop doing it to each other. At least I think so. (I recognize I'm being selfish here). Questions out of the blue, unexplained or half-forgotten or empty or unloved traditions, and most expectations make people the center of attention and central to the situation. Unless no one cares about the outcome, these things rarely go very well.

Blended

I'm dried-out Alton Brown ground beef.
A congealed mass of chuck this and loin that,
kosher salt and pork fat.

Why? How?
What blended me up?
What's the goal?
Am I the sacrificial foal?
The ungodly hole?
The warning shoal?
The ungodly whole?
The hearth's coal?
The potter's unmade bowl?
Cause I sure do feel young, empty, shallow, legion, brittle, and lumpy.

Was it the depressed child, too young to have a sense of self to lose? Or the middle-class public education that tried so hard to convince me that I was special, just like everyone else? Or the church rooms and classrooms that taught me to treat everyone equally and well because they were just as valuable as me, and if I could do that then I'd be better? Or the society that emblazoned successful people into my eyes, people who by themselves would make an average person but together form the person, just enough that when I look in the mirror or memory bank I can see their mutant superimposed over myself making all the right decisions and comebacks while looking good?

I walk home in flip-flops and a hoodie. Sleet soaked my socks through the hole in my sneakers, guaranteed to make a kid run faster and jump higher. I prefer cold feet to wet ones, so I'm stuck with the annoying sound of one hand clapping beneath me.
I want to hang my head down to avoid accidentally catching the eye of someone I know and become further embarrassed. I want to raise my head up of to make sure I don't walk into anything and become further embarrassed. My indecision embarrasses me.

But I make it home. I always do. Sometimes I wish I didn't, so I'd have to change.

Hungry Humility

Fasting is one of the most gratifying experiences for me. At least once a month I go without food and drink for 24 hours. I've tried other forms of fasting too. Ramadan was one of my favorites. As long as you can see sunlight then it's work hard, meditate, and don't eat or drink. A day of silence is another favorite. Try to not to speak from when you wake up to when you fall asleep. I have also heard of mirror fasts. People refuse to study their physical appearance for days, weeks, or months. They avoid mirrors, reflective surfaces, and photos of themselves. They just exist and take away the temptation to judge their body.

Humility, to me, is being grateful for your dependency on God. And if you don't believe in God, can you substitute a higher power, nature, or the goodwill of others for God? I think they'd work for the sake of this. It has three parts. It means being grateful that someone, something, or some others help you. And it also means recognizing your dependency on it or them. I can do both of those easily. Part three is being grateful for your dependency. That is a Herculean feat for me. I do not want to be dependent forever and being grateful for it seems like giving in to the idea that I cannot become great on my own (and while I think I am not great on my own I do not believe it yet. Cursed disagreements between my heart and mind).

But I realized food is a great source to explore my humility. I love food. I am often hungry. I do not grow, harvest, or produce anything I eat. Sometimes I cook it, but it is with materials provided through tubes and rods to my apartment. So I recognize I am dependent on others for my food and ability to cook. I am grateful I live in a society that provides me with easy ways to trade money for food so that I can specialize my education and labors on self-gratifying dreams. And I am even grateful for my dependency.

I am grateful because the economic model of such a system makes sense. Specialization helps everyone (okay, just most people most of the time). It improves society as a whole, enabling us to reach new heights of art, technology, study, and thought.

I am also grateful because it is so rewarding. I love food. I love that I have to eat several times a day. The way it feels: chewing, swallowing, pooping, digesting. It's all so relaxing and relieving. I love how exciting it is to taste new dishes. It's even better to make new dishes. It is an easily learned skill with delightful, immediate rewards. Food is great.

So I wonder, why can't my hungry humility apply to other situations? Why can't humility be more consciously rewarding? Helping someone move makes me feel good because it is a workout, I get to know new people or say goodbye to old friends, and it makes me grateful for what I have. I feel humbled by the experience. Teaching a class feels good because it helps me relive the learning opportunities I've had. Whether they were good or not I am grateful they happened because they taught me something, whether intended or not. I am humbled by seeing people learn new things.

There really is a way to be more active about my humility.

100 Percent

Having enough credits to have graduated if I'd applied them correctly, I am now taking my last 100-level college class. We turned in our one paper a couple weeks ago. I put some good work into it, infusing anecdotes, style, and classy metaphors into one short page.

When we got the papers back I saw 100 circled in red pen at the top. A perfect score. And my first thought was, "Great, I spent all that work and she just handed out perfect grades for completion." Then I looked around (my vanity often compares myself to others' grades). I saw 83 circled. Next to it was an 87. A 93 peeked over someone's shoulder in front of me.

I felt no pride. I was not better than any of these people. I have a lot of experience that has made me a fairly good writer. I worked hard on the paper. I produced something good.
But it wasn't my best and it wasn't life-changing. So I felt sorrow. It was depressing. I could not be satisfied with my grade. By the standards of a 100-level class I probably did deserve the grade I got, but I could not accept it. I cannot accept someone's praise for a really good job. And I hate it.

This is a sad result of college for me. There is a poison I incubate, injected by teacher after teacher who refuses to give out A's in some self-righteous false doctrine of secular education. It secretes just as I want to accept that I am not mediocre. That I might just be above average or, dare I say, excellent. I can no longer feel the joy of accomplishment or even acceptance, because I have spent three years surviving a godless competition of artificially valued curves, as if my value is as chaotic or arbitrary as the stock market.

And in a way it shut me down. I have trouble trying in my classes now. I am sick of trying to impress someone who does not care about me. I am sick of teachers. I want a mentor.

Giving the Chance to be Forgiven

A couple of my friends are in a bit of a contention. One guy had a bad breakup a couple months ago with a gal he really liked. After the breakup he found out she had dated him for practice. Well, this last week, said guy found out his best friend has started dating this heart-breaker. Hard toke brah.

Unfortunately I disagree with the way both of them are dealing with the situation. Guy 1 feels deeply betrayed. Understandable. Guy 2 feels like he needs to take what life is giving him. Understandable. I've been in both positions. I can dig it. But 1 feels that 2 needs to decide between a bromance and a romance, so he gave 2 an ultimatum: 2 had 24 hours to decide to break up with the gal or find a new place to live for the upcoming months.
My trouble with their actions are the consequences. I can understand going with the flow, but you have to draw some lines for yourself. Most people are not going to do a kilo of cocaine if they happen upon it. And hopefully a person's line is far before that. I've heard all sorts of "rules" about when it is appropriate to date a friend's ex, but making a rule about emotions is like using a sieve to hold water; they're too fluid. So when you care about a person you should draw lines so that even the lemons and sugars of life cannot force you to hurt them. We might not mean to hurt others, but we should be careful to ensure we mean not to hurt them too.

But my biggest trouble is with giving an ultimatum. It only makes things worse. If 2 picks the friendship then he may always feel regret and spite towards 1 for denying him a chance at happiness. If 2 picks the girl now and then later finds out she is not someone he can love then he lost a friend (it should also be mentioned that the girl is planning on leaving in a few months for a year and a half. So she isn't looking for a long-term relationship and one isn't really possible). Worst of all, 1 is preventing 2 almost any chance of someday being forgiven. If things turn sour with 2's relationship and he wants to renew his friendship with 1, 1 is telling 2 that there is no chance. So why would he try? And if no one tries to seek forgiveness then there is no chance for the relationship to continue.

I almost went there a few years ago. A girl really hurt my heart. She lied to me and broke countless promises. I wanted so badly to tell her that she had to choose between me and another and that I would never be there for her again if she didn't choose me. I have always been grateful that I decided not to tell her that (mostly because I realized it isn't true). It would have been unfair. It would have forever prevented us from reconciling. She and I are still not close and I would have trouble calling her even a friend after how she still treats me, but I feel like there is a chance for either of us to someday try to renew what was a very deep and satisfying friendship. I am glad I gave us a chance by denying myself the selfish pleasures of telling her off.

Things don't always work out the way we want them to, but life is good; things always turn out alright. Sometimes (most times) one needs to just leave them alone until they come home.

Overheard

"You know when a guy is...like...well...he is still like a Man, but just effeminate too?"

"How could he do that? I won't want to look anyone in my family in the eyes the day after my wedding night."

I happened to overhear both of these conversations while walking around campus today. The first one made me laugh. The second kinda bothered me.

BYU is the only place I have lived or visited where a lot of straight guys wear scarves. I do not know why. I sometimes think that homosexuality as a topic is so avoided and as a situation repressed that people do not think of it as a possibility. In a culture that is not very accepting of people who are homosexual this might be helpful, because it allows people with traditionally taboo traits or preferences to fly under the radar of just being different. Because being transgender or homosexual is not discussed it is not assumed and does not become part of people's causal logic when trying to explain something they see. So a guy who is still, like, a man can be effeminate and no one questions his sexuality. Though, if that effeminate man is gay and he wants to let people around him know then he has no gentle way to do it, because his neighbors might refuse to think of homosexuality as a reality so close to them. So, I laugh, because the situation is ridiculous.

The second quote came from a conversation I heard quite a bit of. The girl was discussing how someone she knew well had been married the previous Saturday and then had to go to the baby blessing for his niece the next day. They she expressed how she thought that would be uncomfortable. Why? Is sex really that scary? Is it embarrassing? I will sweat for lots of reasons on my wedding night I am sure, nerves definitely being one of them. But I would not (I hope) feel embarrassed to be around people. Especially my family.

This connects to another conversation I have had. Apparently some people feel that holding hands is more of a commitment than kissing. They will kiss a person long before holding hands. What!? Kissing is much more sexual (if you feel differently I would love to hear more about that) than holding hands. More sexual situations hopefully express more commitment. But their rationality was that holding hands is a public thing and lets other people know you are in a relationship, but kissing can be done quietly and privately. To them, it is the public announcement of a relationship that means more commitment.

People often have sex on their wedding night. That is nothing tot be ashamed of. You just married someone you love and adore. But are we so scared of being public about love and intimacy. Why?

Political Dichotomy

Why do Republicans preach that the government should have no involvement in business? Why do Democrats declare that the government should have no say in individual's moral decisions? What is the purpose of government, what should it be involved in?

Why do Democrats say that the United States should not impose its ideals and culture on other countries (by opposing the Monroe Doctrine and dismissing the value of Westernization {that might a bit extreme, but I have heard it rather often of late}) but supports every state having the same morals, laws, and regulations? Why do Republicans try to push the American Dream and culture on the world but reject unification of state laws, projects, and programs under the national government (Romneycare vs. Obamacare for example)? If everyone is supposed to be the same why is it only at a certain level of humanity?

Seriously, I am really confused by these issues. On two big issues, freedom and unity, our major parties use the same rational to suggest opposite suggestions. Silly if you ask me.

Politicians

What is the job of politicians?

Did you know that the expected inflation rate can affect the economy and unemployment rate as much as the actual inflation rate? It makes sense. Reality is warped into our perception of it. Unless we have a clear view of truth then we cannot base decisions off of it. In terms of unemployment, according to the Philips Curve, the best situation is when inflation is high and expected inflation is low, unemployment will be lowest. Sounds great. But that means people have to be completely ignorant of reality.

That is when politicians come into play. They are the great deceivers of society. Why? I suggest that it is the fault of society. We want unrealistic things accomplished, such as having a high inflation without anyone realizing it. And in the short run that would work. No one would see through the lie and the economy would produce a lot more, because more people are working. But eventually the lie cracks. That is where we are now. The lies are coming to light. And we no longer trust the politicians or their appointments. Now, even if they are being honest with us, we assume they are lying.

An example is the 1970's. Paul Volcker was the chairman of the Federal Reserve. America had trouble with inflation and unemployment. It was called stagflation. Trouble was all up in the back pocket of America. So he told everyone that he was going to decrease inflation (the job of the Federal Reserve is to influence the inflation rate by increasing or decreasing money supply by buying and selling bonds by setting the interest rate. Make sense?). And he did it. But everyone had been saying that before so no one believed him. So expected inflation was much higher than actual inflation and unemployment increased a lot in the late 70's. He got a lot of blame. But he knew it was needed for two reasons: people needed to trust politicians and people to lower their expectations of inflation. Eventually people reduced their expectations and unemployment rates went back down.

So here is the problem. If politicians are honest/transparent then society benefits in the long run, but the general populace does not like them, because sometimes they will have to be like Volcker and do something unattractive, even damaging to some people. Then they are eliminated during the next election cycle. A short term in office means they cannot do a lot of good. A political appointment, like Paul Volcker, is able to do a lot more good because his job was tied to the election of other people (Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan to be specific) and only has to account to a few people.
If politicians are dishonest and give society what it wants then they are able have power for much longer. Society is satisfied and benefited in the short run, but suffers more long term. But, by retaining political power, they have the potential to do more good in some ways. Maybe a politician realizes his/her election can be assured if he/she buckles on a social issue, but that means that he/she can influence the economy in a better way. So the politician caves to peer (constituent?) pressure in order to benefit more people in a more pressing matter. Is that moral?

So is the job of politicians to have society in their best interest or is it to appease the masses that elected them? I think I understand better why Plato was opposed to democracies.

"The Name of Thy Son"

The sacramental prayers, and other sources, mention "that they may... witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son." Jesus Christ. But what does that mean? And which name?

Jesus was a man. He healed the sick, taught people a good way to live together, and lived a good life. Four different accounts of His life paint different pictures. I am sure the same would be true of us. Imagine if you had your parents, your siblings, your best friend, and your exes write about your life. Crazy. Awesome too. He is depicted like John Wayne in Mark, a good man who is a little rough around the edges, who can still get angry but always has others in his best interest. Luke's Jesus never even approaches an emotion short of an angelic entity. They are different men. And yet, when we combine the four identities we can find a person we might actually be able to be like. Jesus is a name that we can take upon ourselves. It is the name of someone who has needs but puts others first, who takes time to play with children, who cooks fresh fish on the beach with friends, and who tries to share the gospel with anyone who will listen even if they will not hear.

Christ is a title. Christ is the Messiah, the anointed one. Hebrews had three anointed offices: prophet, priest, and king (or prophetess, priestess, and queen. Please apply all nouns and pronouns to your gender). A prophet teaches by example. They live the life they teach. Their most basic actions can be applied into great lessons. Gandhi, Muhammad, Joseph Smith, and Moses lived lives worthy of emulation. They were prophets.
A priest sacrifices the self to be dedicated to a cause (often a religious one, but not always). Because they are completely devoted to their cause, they are able to teach others when and how and what is appropriate to sacrifice (because it is not always your life or livelihood. Maybe it is an opinion or comfort). Joan of Arc, Martin Luther, Martin Luther King Jr., and Mother Teresa understood the blessings of sacrifice for a cause. They were priests.
A king leads with common good in mind (a king that is self-serving is really only a tyrant). A king might be appointed by common consent or inheritance or circumstance. A king can be a president, a senator, a CEO, a shift manager, a mother or father, or anyone in a leadership position. A king must understand why they are in their position, what they can do, and how they are going to do it. A king works with their subjects for their good, because working against the subject's desires (even in their best interests) will appear tyrannous. Queen Elizabeth, George Washington, and Abu Bakr lead their subjects kindly, honestly, and transparently. They were kings.

And these are only two of His names, the most literal. What about the dozens of others: Good Shepherd, Living Waters, Bread of Life, Counselor, Wonderful, etc?

I hope you think more about which name you are expressing a willingness to take. As I am beginning to learn, one of the most productive and beautiful parts of religion is ambiguity. It allows practitioners to apply lessons to the self, even with various needs, dilemmas, and insights. Ambiguity allows a message based on truth to reach everyone, regardless of how far they are along their path. So, which name means more to you? Why? 

A Whim of Wheels

A club at my university does an annual event to raise awareness of physical disabilities. I wanted to participate last year but was unable to because of my schedule. This year I opted to experience a couple hours in a wheelchair for their study and to promote campus awareness. One disappointment was that it seemed like such a small effort for me, but I was proven wrong by the challenge and BYU students.

I knew BYU campus was fairly wheelchair accessible because I try to ride my bike around a lot. I knew how I could get to every building, but I quickly realized that I did not know the fastest ways. And some ways seemed dangerous. Long, steep hills are on almost every side of campus. Some elevators are accessible but not convenient. Using the bathroom is terrifying. It is so hard to get in and out. And I do not know if I could put on my pants without control of my legs (I am greatly impressed by others). The hardest feature of any building or landscape was slanted walkways. Even a slight slope to the left or right made traveling very slow and cumbersome. If you push a wheelchair along a sidewalk that is not flat then you drift to one side if you try to go straight. So, to go straight, you have to either only push one wheel or constantly slow down to turn opposite the way you are drifting. It was annoying when sidewalks were not flat. It was frustrating when the floors inside buildings were not flat. They were constructed! Why would they slope?

I do not know how many students knew that demonstrations were going on today. They do happen annually. But there are a fair number of students who have permanent disabilities. And why would anyone assume that I was just rolling around for fun. I received a lot more smiles from people through the day. I was surprised by how often people would try to dart in front of me, forcing me to stop. People that were texting rarely saw me. I had to constantly be on the vigil for those bumbling booby traps. And cars were scary. I do not know if they could not see me as I crossed the road or just did not care. I ran into several friends who were very concerned about me, which was nice. They also became interested in the event so I suppose I fulfilled my role. The highlights of people's reactions were definitely the girl who held two doors open for me. She was the only one how tried to help me at all. And then I had to fill out some paperwork for a job. One of the supervisors came in and started talking to me. Right before I left, she asked if I had come in before and met the boss. She then said that she did not know how to be tactful about it, but she had to know the limits of my disability. I thought it was rather tactful and obviously did not bother me, but I was glad that she was comfortable enough with the situation to ask then instead of passing off a potential trial to someone else.

It was a good experience. I assumed it would be difficult for a wheelchair-bound student to attend BYU, but it was not as bad as I thought it would be, as long as he or she stayed on campus. Traveling off campus would be a nightmare. I would probably require assistance traveling to and from campus. Which would also mean constantly caring everything I would need for the day with me. It would be a constant trial. I assume friends would seek to help me more, but only a stranger offered any help. What it really means is I should look out for what I could do.

Final Bellwether

This was a magnificent experience. Tamarra is amazing. She is a very talented and encouraging editor; it comes from her incredible writing. This is the final edit of my article written last month. I really like being able to see the development of the subject, audience, and style. And it is neat to see my own ideas better expressed with the help of others. Once again, I find myself more converted to the quality and consistency of good writing.

This I Believe
Spencer Campbell

“Persecutions may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble, calumny may defame, but the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent.”

I was first enticed to memorize the “Standard of Truth” by a Snickers bar when I was 14. At 22, I am still uncovering how deeply these words, and others like them, affect Mormon culture.

Powerful statements like this one, though once shouted in the face of violent persecution, seem – at least in the Provo student wards I’ve attended – to act as insurance that in the end we,  conservative Mormons, the embodiment of truth, will win.

To argue against that conservatism is not just some philosophical or religious debate to many Mormons; it is a personal attack on our identity and potential. It would be like telling an Israeli Jew they should give East Jerusalem back to  its Palestinian inhabitants, or telling a Muslim that Muhammad was not the last prophet. We, as people, simply take offense when our concepts of eternal laws, rights, or prophecies are disagreed with.

I lived in California for a couple years and was often reminded of the financial and physical efforts the church put forth to defeat Proposition 8. Our strength and unity is infamous within some circles. It is as the Standard of Truth states: “no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing.” The unhallowed, the unholy, the hateful, the spiteful will never have power to stop the herd. But there is a difference, I believe, between what is truly unholy and what many of us perceive to be unholy.

I love the joke that says, “Catholics say that the Pope cannot make mistakes, but they do not believe it. Mormons say their prophets can make mistakes, but they do not believe it.” We readily acknowledge that we have faults, so why are we so reluctant to identify specific problems? We have needed help to change our direction before: stricter adherence to the Word of Wisdom and diligence in tithing paying, for example. I realize neither of these examples were terribly “hard sayings,” but we, individually and collectively, have needed to be corrected. Yet this does not seem to cause us to ponder our future. We do not seem to sit back and give consistent, honest evaluation to the type of Mormonism we are living individually and collectively and what changes may move us closer to the core of our faith.

In Church we often talk about sheep and the Shepherd. However shepherds know sheep have a tendency to look for a leader among themselves—a practice I do not believe God discourages. A bellwether is a sheep chosen by the flock to initiate movement and direction. It is still within the herd, but the others trust it to lead, to think. We often simplify our lives by choosing areas where we can act more and think less. We assign ourselves bellwethers at work (bosses), in fashion (celebrities), and in entertainment (Oscars). This is not a bad thing: it feels good to trust and follow sometimes. So imagine the impact you could have by being a bellwether within the Church.

The bellwether still has to look, sound and smell like a sheep to fit in, but it does not have to think like the other sheep. Under the influence of the Holy Spirit, its possible to gently lead those in your own circle to the green pastures and living waters we read about in the scriptures, and do so by avoiding the pitfalls infesting elitist Mormonism and self-centered Mormon policies and politics.

If you disagree with Mormon policy or tradition, then imagine what you could do if you became a trusted bellwether within the flock, instead of aggressively, directly and openly opposing the Church and its members. You must remain humble about it. You must be doing it for the Lord Himself. And you must not think yourself above covenants. To be successful you must hold those closer than all other things.

In a way, I suppose I am encouraging you to be part of the Church, to make yourself accepted, so that you can have an influence -- a voice that matters.  As college students, we are the next generation of leaders and thinkers in the Church. We are not going to change doctrines -- those belong to God -- but we can change tradition. We can change perception.

So feel free to empower the women you meet (not just open doors for them), to exclaim your joy that you are saved by grace (not works), or love a gay (or lesbian or bisexual or straight or questioning) friend because they are just as good as people as the rest of us. We can make a difference in how the Church of Jesus Christ is accepted worldwide.

Just stay a while until you can help us because we need more colorful Mormons. And who knows, we might even herald in Zion.

Separate iff Equal

I believe that there is a divine power that wants us to become more advanced beings and accomplishes this by giving us responsibilities, abilities, and possibilities. In other words, I believe in God and that the situations we face are given to us so that we can become more like Him. We do this by learning about and understanding who He is. We do that by doing what He does. We can do that because we can have access to His power. We call it the priesthood, but I have trouble defining what that is.

When I hear "separate but equal" quoted in any context it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is a too obvious reference to the opposition to the Civil Rights movement. It references racism. But I have heard it recently in reference as to why Mormon men have the priesthood but women do not. It is usually used along the lines of, "Men have the priesthood, but women bear children. We have separate but equal responsibilities in the family/home, in the community, and in the church." If you ever have the urge to use that phrase to explain anything to anyone (that is an American. I suppose it may not have the same guilt associated with it in other cultures. Probably) stop. Just say no. It will weaken your argument because people (at least my mind does) associate that phrase as a justification for unjust elitism. Your intentions may be good and your reasoning may be sound, but your audience will associate anything you say after "separate but equal" as bigotry.

What makes this situation terrible is that some things do have to be separate to be equal. I might try to defend that most things have to be separate if equal. If two things perform the exact same function in the same way and at the same rate, if they are equal, then they spread out. They inhibit each others potential and production by being too close. Think of two burger joints next to each other, neither receives as good of business. The gases that make up our air spread out until evenly dispersed. Economics encourage specialization so that people perform different functions and increase social production, because if everyone did the same job than we produce less as a whole. If two things are equal then they will perform best if separated. If two things are separated then they can be equal (without the force used in fictional dystopias for the same effect).

So, I am not arguing against the explanation that men hold the priesthood to make them as equally useful and purposeful to women. I only suggest that we avoid ever using the phrase "separate but equal." Try separate and equal or separate iff equal or come up with a creative and catchy phrase that can be shared to illuminate the need for people to perform different roles in close social settings, especially in a family or church.

Mormon Bellwether

I hope to publish this in BYU's Student Review, but with obvious editing for length and possibly language. This is the first draft, written after reading several replies to posts (that I found quite respectful and moderate) by Mormons in online journals. I realize it is rather forceful and that is why I hesitate posting it, but this issue is very close to me. If someone wants to change, improve, repent then you should forgive and forget. Whisper words of wisdom: Let it be.

“Persecutions may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble, calumny may defame, but the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent”

I was first enticed to memorize the “Standard of Truth” by a snickers bar when I was fourteen. Years later I realized the depth statements, like this, have within Mormons. This standard states that an absolute truth of God will be shared to everyone everywhere until God says it is enough and that nothing can stop it. Ever since Joseph Smith originated the document in the Wentworth letter, Mormons, especially missionaries, identify themselves as the truth going forth.

So how can someone not aligned with mainstream Mormons (member or not) manage disagreeing with the conservative Mormons, the self-proclaimed embodiment of this truth? Powerful verses, such as the Standard of Truth, are used to indoctrinate the flawlessness of the future for Latter-day Saints. To oppose ideologies like this is not just some philosophical or religious debate to many Mormons; it is a personal attack on their identity and potential. It would be like telling an Israeli Jew that they should give back East Jerusalem or telling a Muslim that Mohammad was not the last prophet. We take offense when our concepts of eternal laws or prophecies are disagreed with.

 Yet, direct and disagreeable opposition to Mormon doctrine and culture seems like the only option for dissenters. I have seen Mormons give in to Sunday School doctrines and ignore any misgivings they receive from other members, friends outside of the church, and the Spirit. I really disagree with that method, because when you close yourself off from further light and knowledge you lose what you have already (and not everything I learned in primary is true doctrine. Sorry). But a far worse option I see many people choose is to leave the church or never learn about it because they are offended by some phrase in a talk or line in an outdated book, once treated as a source of doctrine.

I see the church described in the Standard of Truth as a herd of buffalo. It is big. It consumes the very earth beneath it as it moves toward its goals. No amount of force can do much to alter or stop the path of the herd. Its momentum is too great. It is made up of too many individual members. False thoughts shared decades (or months) ago have shifted our path and it seems no outside force can reverse the change. But that is one point the Standard of Truth makes, “no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing.” The unhallowed, the unholy, the hateful, the spiteful cannot stop this herd from moving and growing. And it is just as Joseph Smith said in the Wentworth letter, “Persecution has not stopped the progress of truth, but has only added fuel to the flame…” If you remove yourself from the church, from the herd, and then try to alter its course then you shall fail. It is not that we are not wrong sometimes but that we are so proud to be opposed to the world, even if the world is our friends or family.

Since I am talking about cattle and Mormons, I think sheep is an appropriate matter to bring up. A bellwether is a sheep that is chosen within a flock to initiate movement and direction. It is still within the herd, but the others trust it to lead, to think. People of all sorts simplify their lives by choosing areas where they can act more and think less. We assign ourselves bellwethers in the workplace (often our bosses), in fashion (celebrities), in entertainment (Oscars), and throughout our lives. This is not a bad thing, because no one can control everything. So imagine the impact you could have by being a bellwether within the flock. You would still have to look, sound, and smell like a sheep, but really, you would not have to think like the other sheep. But really, you are leading the flock to green pastures and living waters. But really, you are avoiding the pitfalls that infest the elitist lands of Utah and the self-contained Mormon policies and politics. If you disagree with Mormon doctrine, policy, or tradition imagine what you could do if you became a trusted bellwether within a flock, instead of aggressively opposing the church and its members.

For me, one moment that helped me move in a better direction was in the spring of 2012 when “It Gets Better, at BYU” videos were published on youtube.com. I recognized a lot of friends in those videos. I have never hated homosexuals. And I cannot say I did not make some assumptions about a few of the people I knew who shared their stories in those videos. But those videos moved me to stop being complacent as friends and family members insulted homosexuals and their desires. I was changed by people in my flock to be more supportive of love and more understanding of individual’s challenges.

(these are the two endings I came up with)

In a way, I suppose I am encouraging you to be a part of the church, to make yourself acceptable, so that you can have an influence, a voice. Would you rather be allowed to look differently or think differently?

So, to those insisting on insulting the attempts of Mormons to empower women or support homosexuals or see both sides of international conflicts,  maybe if you spend more time with the herd being a bull (or heifer), you’d have to deal with less of the s*** you wallow in by measuring our every step and mistake. Please, help us move in a better direction instead of throwing the crap at us that some of us are trying to move past.

Jerusalem, I won't forget you

Strong emotions run through these veins. Maybe they come from the remnants of my exhaustion. Maybe I miss the people. Maybe it is the Civil War era cannon I can see behind my computer in the library. I hope that stages the level of internal confusion.

I miss dancing, people, food, classes, the color green, swimming, Natalie, Spiritual Sunday Cinema, attending church on Sunday (even though I still think Saturday is a better day for it), music, family, Prescott, mountains, shorts, and many much things. But the problem is I'll always be missing things I suppose. I miss the Dome of the Rock, the call to prayer, trash in the streets, buffets at every meal, classes on religion that I enjoy and satisfy my need to think as part of my study, a new group of people, knowing that every street holds a historically significant place, falafel, missing things in the states, exploring one of the most fascinating places I'll ever live (seriously, the center we lived at has more secrets than I could hope to find in three months), and having unique adventures every day.

Getting to Provo involved 46 hours awake and 31 hours traveling. Which was actually 6 hours more than it had to be, but I might have gotten myself lost between Salt Lake City and Provo. This morning I woke up at 4 am. My first thoughts were, "It's dark. Too dark. I'm not where I think I am. I'm not in Jerusalem. Where am I? Oh yeah, I'm at the Moore's :) (I wasn't thinking in emoticons, but I did smile). You know this room. Map it out. Alright. What time is it? 4 am... You should say 'good morning' to Natalie. No, it is way too early. Yeah, too early. Go back to sleep." It has been a slow day. I've really needed to recover. But it was wonderful to walk around at noon and notice how cool 95 degrees feels after this summer.

Despite living in a city layered in Jewish history and caked with Christian sites, I think what I'll miss most are the morning and evening calls to prayer, seeing the Dome of the Rock any time I look out a window, and the green lights from minarets reminding me of The Great Gatsby (light on the docks) every night.

I love Jerusalem. I do not think I changed the city (as I hope someday to have a chance), but I know it changed me. It's like a love affair that I want to share with everyone. On that note, there are hundreds of stories to share if you would ever like to hear. As a warning though, give yourself time to listen if you dare/care to ask. Also, I'll love you more for it.

Galilee

So...I should probably write about Israel while I'm here... I just figure it'll be so much easier when I get back home and include lots of pictures.

We spent the last eleven days living on a kibbutz on the Sea of Galilee. I hope to express my various levels of existence while there.

Physically:
Fantastic, for a day. Upon arrival and immediately put on swimsuits. The water was warm except for occasional patches creeping along the bottom. I loved swimming. Real swimming, with strokes and everything. I found out how weak my shoulders, but I can still do a better good butterfly stroke.
That night I felt congested and figured it was just the sea water in my nose. But then I started getting a sore throat, which is what happens when I start getting a cold so I figured it was that. But then the sore throat was gone after a couple days and I stayed very congested. So I've been sick since we got to Galilee... My nose is still congested and I can feel the pressure in my teeth and jaw. Unpleasant but bearable. I still swam a lot though :)
The day before we left the sea we had a long field trip, exploring mountains and cities and churches and the like, and got back to our rooms right before dinner. So a few of us ran into the water with our clothes still on. Which was fun. When I got out, I found a sandy loogie on my leg. Rather gross. Later that night my leg felt sore, but I thought nothing of it. The next morning my leg had an inflamed red mark with a scab in the middle. I had been attacked by a jellyfish! I do not think jellyfish are supposed to be in the Sea of Galilee!

Mentally:
This place is beautiful. Sunsets are a delight. The waves are calming. I realized that kibbutzim started forming around the beginning of the 20th century. During this time many Jews were coming from Russia into Israel. This was close to the time of the Bolshevik Revolution. This could mean that socialist ideologies influenced the creation of some of Israel's most historic modern Jewish settlements. Pretty neat. We went on a hike with a man from the kibbutz we stayed at. He was paid fairly well for taking us out. He does it as a side job while he lives at the kibbutz. It was at the kibbutz (Ein Gev) that he met his wife and has raised his three sons. We went to some waterfalls and swam for a while. He told riddles along the way. He is older than my father but his youngest child is younger than my youngest brother. Just interesting. After majoring in Russian while at college in the United States, he decided to travel to Israel for a year and then just stayed out here since. As a faithful member of the kibbutz, all of the money he earns as a hiking guide (an incredibly fit hiking guide with a magnificent beard) he gives to the kibbutz to be used by everyone. Strong ideals.

Emotionally:
I am worried to return to real life (as much as life as a college student in Provo can be termed "real") in two weeks with its work, roommates, unstructured classes, money, and competition. I am excited to see close friends again, dance, attend wedding receptions, and walk around a city alone late at night. Mostly, I am exhausted. Overwhelmed into happiness would be another way to describe it.

Spiritually:
The comparisons between a summer in Israel and living in Sacramento for a couple years are astounding. The structure in both has been wonderful, but I am glad for the freedoms we've had in Israel. I like walking around late at night because I just want to breathe the city. The intensity and energy of both has been empowering and sustaining, but the brevity of Israel has been most needed for recovery. Though I am thankful for the endurance of Sacramento. Studying in both places has been extraordinary. The depth and opportunities to learn have been so vast in both areas.
I feel fulfilled here. And complimented. It is interesting to see the change in return missionaries as they have been here. I feel like Jerusalem has been a place to understand my time in Sacramento much more fully. I doubt it comes as a surprise but I was not a forceful person while serving in Sacramento. Because of the missionary environment I sometimes felt uncomfortable because I find no satisfaction or result in trying to argue religion or force ideals. Israel is one of the best modern examples of the failure of forced ideals and argued religion. And so I feel that my calmness might have been more helpful than I saw. At least I can hope. My time here has been resolving, replenishing, and everything I wanted out of the Holy Land.

So There is This Girl...

And you should know she is fantastic. Here is one of many reasons why.

Blogging is one of the most interesting mediums of communication. Many blogs are written like a journal or diary, personal insights/stories/journeys are shared in a day by day manner. "Successful" blogs do tend to have a theme, purpose, and regular schedule of posting, but that is not necessary. Writing of all sorts, like theater or movies, naturally has the "fourth wall" element that allows readers to put themselves in the story. But blogs naturally seek to break that fourth wall. Blogs are a giant, expansive, endless conversation. Bloggers want readers, so blogs are written to an audience instead of a story contained by four walls. This means a blogger can talk directly to people through their medium. This is unique.

So I'm going to relay a couple bits of information and stories to you and hopefully connect them by the end. The title is above and hopefully will keep you interested as you try to figure out how these words will come full circle.

I originally started this blog as an attempt to conveys thoughts and keep people up on my travels. I think I've done a fair job of the first and a terrible job of the second. The disconnect, I think, is that I'm not updating enough pictures. More images would encourage me to discuss sights and feelings more. Another reason is I already relate my stories two or three times before blogging them. That extra time seems excessive, except this is the place for most people to catch up on me. So I apologize to you. There will be a much better job done come August. I'll probably start by just uploading lots of photos. I've already taken almost two thousand shots.

It is two hours past midnight. My eyes feel like they are swelling in their sockets and a slight headache is starting to come on. I will tell myself many times throughout this night that I only need to stay very hydrated in order to avoid discomfort. I am only slightly wrong, but not enough to worry. I just got back home. We went to the Israel Museum (one of my favorite places in Jerusalem). Jerusalem puts on a lot of artistic and community-oriented events. I love it. Jewish religious celebrations are big deals here. Secular celebrations are too. The Israel Museum hosted a couple dozen artistic displays. Some (most) of them were temporal displays. Attending them and seeing the creative process of the event was what was interesting. The results were mediocre and stood no chance standing the tests of time (I think that is the shame of many modern arts, but it is only a personal opinion. I prefer the creation of those arts more than the final products. And a repetition of the final product, such as attending the same performance by a different cast, brings me no further insight or pleasure). But it was so much fun to watch. One exhibit was a man in a small shack writing. You could watch him. Or you could watch what he was writing as it was being displayed onto a large stone face a dozen meters away. The writing was in Hebrew so I can only guess at what he was writing. I think it was a short story. They had a kabuki demonstration. There was an original folk dance performed (I got to dance with them :). My favorite exhibit was some minimalist art. There was no order to the art, but one piece I really loved was a large, black X on a piece of paper with a clear, vertical rod over the point of intersection. As you walked past the piece the rod refracted a different image because the angle of your view changed. Simple. Creative. Made me think about physics. That is good art.

As I've been told that I assume everyone is as excited about everything as I am, I have started to realize it is a trait I really appreciate in other people. Several times I was in situations that were strange. The art was unusual. The demonstrations were graphic; they tried making a statement through strong expression and shocking display. I can think of many people, here in Jerusalem and at home, that I would feel uncomfortable attending with because I know their opinions on similar things are negative and I truly dislike causing people to be negative. But I felt alright being there because I could categorize certain things as art and separate myself from the situation or exhibit.

Then I thought about Natalie Harman. I have never felt uneasy with her around me. Now, I have felt quite nervous around her, but that is for reasons completely separate from what we were doing. I can be climbing trees, solving clues for Easter eggs, looking at art, admiring dance, or attending shows with her and never feel like I'll offend or scare her. I also feel like if something ever did bother her then she would let me know. Both are traits I admire greatly. I love feeling that when I am with her I have a whole world of adventures still available to explore; she wouldn't slow me down and actually improved the enjoyment and ultimate value of every experience I have had with her.

That is (one reason) why there is this pretty fantastic girl named Natalie.

Out of Body

Happy 4th of July! One of those holidays that has no literal meaning (as the Declaration of Independence was signed over several days) but is a great symbol and reason for celebration. We have a few people at the Jerusalem Center that are not Americans (two born in Colombia [one of them was raised in the States though], four Canucks, and one Englishwoman). The gal from England read the Declaration of Independence for our class. It was endearing.
We had fabulous burgers and ice cream for dinner. Then we played Minute to Win It games and then started a dance party. Honestly, any time we get together as a group to do anything at the center it ends up with a dance party. Not a bad thing, just not really my thing.
With that in mind, once the dancing started I found myself wanting to not be there. I didn't feel like thinking or trying to dance and move to the music. I just wanted to move. I started wandering around the outside of the center. The building was constructed very well and is terraced up the slope of the hill. So lots of outside space that connects. I wandered up to a high place and just looked over the city. As I walked there I could feel my body moving but really felt no control over it. I was wandering and my mind was elsewhere but no where. I took off my glasses to view the city. Fireworks were going off in the distance. I couldn't tell if they had any design, but they were lovely. Bright flashes. Honestly, I sometimes feel blessed for glasses because of the light orbs. I am very nearsighted, so when I see lights, especially at night, they are not defined. Lights are actually floating orbs, radiating stars hanging above the city. They are beautiful. Sometimes it is worth not seeing the leaves on trees to see the orbs floating over me.
And I just thought there. Or tried to think really. I was so full from the food today that I couldn't grasp anything. I tried rhyming but everything was sour. I tried singing a medley I came up with but lost the words. Eventually I snuck back into the building by way of an art exhibit (this place is seriously amazing. We have art exhibits upstairs and two professional concerts each week). I happened to come upon a couple before leaving the exhibit but they didn't see me. I retraced myself and left another way. I found a way atop the organ. Lovely little place. Quiet, dark, secluded. Little there for me though. I wandered, trying to find my head again.
Eventually I gave up, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and started some homework. Gradually some sense returned.
Days/daze like this confuse me. Why did I feel so strange? Was it just a bit of crusty cheese and old sausage with mustard (I think that is what Scrooge attributed it to)? Despite the confusion I felt refreshed after. I didn't need to dance tonight, I needed to wander. Tomorrow might bring dancing. Probably a blood drive and working out though. But who knows.

Other Blogs

I try to follow and support blogs that interest me. It is a wonderful view into thought processes and into the deeper thoughts of people I genuinely love and/or want to get to know better. A couple blogs I try to follow are of people I have never met.

One such blog is The Weed. He recently posted this story http://www.joshweed.com/2012/05/vomit-story-of-romance.html. It's hilarious. And beautiful. The awkwardness is just great. I imagine if she did no vomit on that first date they would not have gotten married (sorry if I ruined the story). This same man (a practicing marriage therapist and Mormon) posted this story http://www.joshweed.com/2012/06/club-unicorn-in-which-i-come-out-of.html recently too.

His thoughts are fascinating. I love that she knew ever since their first date. And the family is absolutely beautiful. It's hard to express how I feel about the whole thing. I've always felt like there is a separation between attraction and experience and it was nice to know someone agrees. And maybe defining things doesn't matter. The most important part is how you live. Are you good? Righteous? Obedient? Believing? Loving? I wrote about Zion a while back and I still think charity will be our defining trait. Christ said, "By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love one to another." And I can bear (or bare) all the words of "love the sinner, but hate the sin" or how loving someone means helping them not sin. I can't agree with the apathy or ambivalence it produces though. This is a whole new world for us, for me. I need to learn what and how I need to help.
I've known a lot of addicts. I've tried helping them. A few things I've found is that I've almost never been around long enough to actually help them. You can't just tell an addict to repent, to stop, to just clean themself up. You certainly can't help an addict who does not want or feel a need for help. And once they are willing to accept help it takes time, contact, reminding, no fear, and lots of love, especially when they relapse because almost everyone does. I feel like many people try to help homosexuals the way they'd help addicts.
Homosexuals are not addicts. I hope that association never occurs to anyone. I would love to say this process would be good advice for someone wanting to help a homosexual, but you don't "help" a homosexual. Helping suggests changing them from something bad. You shouldn't be trying to change them. Sexuality is no foreign substance or artifical stimulation. Love and intimacy are the most real and pure stimulations we have. Sexuality and experience play a big part in those. Do not ever try to take those away from someone, because you will deny them one of the greatest blessings of life. If they want to change (and there is a chance they won't want to. Be ready for that), then help them change and understand what that will mean. Even then, the best thing will be to ask questions (so you can understand them), show you're unconditional in your love for them, and offer help when it's asked for. People don't ask for help only verbally. You shouldn't give help only verbally.
So there is no word for what you should do for LGBTQ's (over anyone if we're being true) other than love. That is how they'll know you can make a difference. That is how they'll know you're a disciple of Christ (even if they don't believe in Him).

Yad Vashem

Cold and still, the room echoes more than sound. Gentle, striking strings pluck my heart and draw my tears. Times like this I feel no right to defend myself. No desire to recover. I hurt and rejoice in the strangest ways. Harsh and happy quotes flash before my eyes. Some cut. No explanation can justify the years and fears behind the words. Some give hope of healing for myself and them. Though lost in this canyon of trial there is a light at the end. It takes conscious effort to not punch the faces of men I cannot understand, foolish cowards too scared of their own work to let themselves live. Yet I cry most at the survivors and saviors. And I desire my own. A hand to hold. The warmth of another soul. Another heart. A hug reminding of smiles. Anything to break this cold I cannot feel but which I still embrace. I hope my empty smiles offend none. They are more to reassure myself. This may be my hatred of being a man. Some days I need to cry and mourn, but I feel my duty is to protect and comfort others, to give what I am so desperate for. A leader cannot break down else he or she gives permission for others to do so. Is this manhood? Adulthood? Parenthood? Growing up? Responsibility? I don't take these things well.

We went to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem today. These were my thoughts while sitting in the last room. It was tense. Well, I was tense. I started thinking of a young man, whose face and name is lost to me, who I attended Especially for Youth with many summers ago. He comforted me during a time I wanted to comfort him. It was just a back scratch, but just that simple contact meant a lot. It also made me think of Alyssa and the last time I went to a Holocaust museum. I do not know why I take such things so poorly. Is it even poorly? Maybe that is a terrible word for it.

I am glad to be in a world  that ennobles sacrifice and recognizes lost. It is difficult, but it is worth it.

Missing

A strange new emotion has hold of me and I'd fight it if only I could see. The source, of course, is clear. But the searing lane of pain from her to heart is crucibled art. Never before could I stand this bore. Or its drill. Or my core. A hedonist, by practice, never to miss a chance of new dance or place. That's my case. My mind screams, it seems, to leave, to upheave, my body to the sun. I'm surprised it has not won. Outside wonders draw me around and I always figured that's how I would be found, by others and myself. Never comfortable on the shelf, I stop for shinies of no wealth. They draw my eye and help something inside fly, sometimes sigh. But invited out I said no. My mind does shout excuse and regret, lest I forget the shielded shelf of solitude, safety, security, and sadness. Yet the core weighs more, though it didn't before. A desire so great as to depreciate my cause of embracing flaws and enjoying the noise of knowing nothing. Woah. No weight was ever so great a foundation or a flight station. I've never flown so high nor felt so nice. It's the contrast of fired veins cooled by morphine ice. To miss someone enough to stop? What's up with that? Like being hobbled by a bat. Knees weak, hands creak, eyes seek to find an explanation for my mind. Nothing. No heart beat stirs to treat the thought that aught to explain what I might gain. Yet I know no thing has the means to replace the face of her. That small part of art is more than any boring dash down a new path. Include the rest and at best you'd hold me back. The world does lack the knack to attack my desire to just hold hands. I'd love to include "ands" but that'd be enough to stuff me for now. The starved would carve wood if it should fill the pores of their bored core.