The Problem of Too Much

(Ahh, more reflections... ;p)

We live in a day filled with information, information and stuff.

What happens to me, and a lot of people, is that with so much information and so many choices what to do with our time becomes a difficult question.

One of my goals is to get rid of the excess "stuff" hanging around my house. Getting rid of excess stuff is a really easy way to become more focused I think, plus getting rid of excess goals as well. :D

An interesting thing about my Grandparents home was that it was always clean and uncluttered, their house seemed to speak of simple elegance. I think that the main reason for this was my grandpa's unrelenting battle against clutter. He was always getting rid of stuff (to my disappointment though, he got rid of a really neat tee pee that I used to play with).

Of course, there were some area's that had accumulated things that we had to get rid of when they passed away, but on the whole their house was really a pleasure to be in.

In my last contemplative post I eschewed the idea of setting ever more goals, defining and refining them until they became succinct little goals that I could easily accomplish.

What is interesting to me is that people seemed to accomplish a lot more with their time so many years ago with out the "convenience's" of microwave ovens, computers, the Internet, television...

What did people do with their time? They took care of things that needed to be done, and then spent time talking to each other, singing, dancing, (unless you were of some religious sects) and living life.

Of course, I like the Internet, computers, (but not microwaves)... and a lot of the modern convenience's that we have. But I believe they can get in the way a lot of times. Plus they bring so much information into our lives that it can be hard to do anything but answer e-mails and sort out the news.

So what then to I suggest doing? Well I guess we have to be more ruthless in ridding ourselves of excess. Too much stuff, to much information, too many goals, too many expectations. Narrow things down and don't easily let new goals, stuff and expectations in.

It's all about balance isn't it?

:D

Perspective

My 7 year old boy Sione was coloring last night on the floor with Roxie (2 years old). He had laboriously been working on a cute little tree when suddenly Roxie came by and decided to "help" him by coloring a long purple line coming out of the tree.

He immediately started crying about it, "Roxie ruined my picture!" So I had to think fast... "No she didn't, she just added a rope swing," is what I replied.

Sione started laughing as he caught onto the idea "Yay!! Thanks Roxie!!" He shouted gleefully then went back to his picture.

It all depends on how you look at it.

Blue Beards Tale

I've heard of Blue Beard before but always assumed him to be a famous pirate that I had no interest in learning about. Imagine my surprise to find out that he is in fact a nobleman, the mythical crux upon which a very old story revolves. A story which in general is taken to point out the follies of a women's curiosity, but as explained in the book "Women Who Run With the Wolves," Estes points out many things that women must learn to overcome their naivety.

This is how it is told in the book.

There is an intriguing and somewhat frightening man who's nicknamed "Bluebeard." He is courting three sisters all at once, however they are frightened of his beard with its "odd blue cast," so they hid when he called.
He decides to take them on a trip into the woods with their mother to charm them with stories, food and fun, and they start to decide that he's not so bad, however the older two sisters fears return.
The younger sister convinces herself that his beard is not all that blue, and decides to go ahead and marry him, he brings her off to his castle in the woods.
Then one day he goes on a trip and leaves his young wife with his key's telling her that she can use all of them but the tiniest key, which he tells her not to use. He urges her to invite her family and friends over, to roam the castle freely, and grounds, and to have the cooks make wonderful feasts for her and her guests.
She invites her sisters to come and they were very curious souls and wanted to see which keys fit to which doors and what was in each room.
So they started to explore the castle and found stores of food, money, and many wonderful things. Until they came to the cellar at the end of which was a blank wall.
They were wondering about the last key and one of them said "Maybe this key doesn't fit anything at all." When they said this a door appeared in the once blank wall that was closing and when they tried to open it again it was firmly locked. One cried "Sister, sister bring your key. Surely this is the door for that mysterious little key."
She quickly opened the door with the key, and found that the room was so dark that they couldn't see inside of it. So they brought a candle, and when it was lit they all screamed at once, because the room was filled with blood and blackened bones of corpses.
They slammed the door shut, took the key out of the lock and when the wife looked down at the key she saw it was stained with blood. She tried to clean it with the hem of her gown, but the blood would not be stopped.
The wife hid the tiny key in her pocket and ran to the cook's kitchen, when she got there her dress was stained in blood because the key was weeping drops of dark red blood. She asked the cook for some horsehair and tried to scour the key clean but it wouldn't stop bleeding. "Drop after drop of pure red blood issued from the tiny key."
She then tried to press ashes onto it, to scrub it, then heat to sear it and cobweb over it to staunch the flow, but couldn't get the key to stop bleeding.
She didn't know what to do so she hid it in her wardrobe.
Her husband came home the next day and asked "Well? How was it while I was away?" she replied "It was very fine, sir." "And how are my storerooms?" he rumbled. "Very fine, sir." "How are my money rooms?" he growled. "The money rooms are very fine also, sir." "So everything is good, wife?" "Yes, everything is good." "Well," he whispered, "then you'd best return my keys."
He saw quickly that the smallest key was missing and upon inquiry the wife thought to lie to cover up how it came to be missing. He told her "Don't lie to me! Tell me what you did with that key!" He put his hand to her face as if to caress her cheek, but instead seized her hair." "You infidel!" he snarled, and threw her to the floor. "You've been into the room, haven't you?"
He threw open her wardrobe and the little key on the top shelf had bled blood red down all the beautiful silks of her gowns hanging there.
"Now it's your turn, my lady," he screamed, and dragged her down the hall and into the cellar till they were before the terrible door. Bluebeard merely looked at the door with his fiery eyes and the door opened for him. There lay the skeletons of all his previous wives.
"And now!!!" he roared, but she caught hold of the door frame and would not let go. She pleaded for her life, "Please! Please, allow me to compose myself and prepare for my death. Give me but a quarter hour before you take my life so I can make peace with God."
"All right," he snarled, "you have but a quarter of an hour, but be ready."
The wife raced up the stairs to her chamber and posted her sisters on the castle ramparts. Knelt to pray, but instead called out to her sisters.
"Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
"We see nothing, nothing on the open plains."
Every few moments she cried up to the ramparts, "Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
"We see a whirlwind, perhaps a dust devil in the distance."
In the meantime Bluebeard grew more and more impatient and called for his wife to come to the cellar.
Again she called to her sisters, "Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
Bluebeard shouted for his wife again and began to clomp up the stone steps.
Her sisters cried out, "Yes! We see them! Our brothers are here and they have just entered the castle."
Bluebeard stomped down the hall towards his wife's chamber. "I am coming to get you," he bellowed.
Just as Bluebeard came into his wife's chamber her brothers galloped down the hall on horseback and charged towards Bluebeard, chasing him down the hall and out onto the parapet. There and then, they advanced upon him, striking and slashing, cutting and whipping, with their swords beating Bluebeard down to the ground, killing him at last and leaving for the buzzards his blood and gristle.

One thing that I realized after reading this story is that I was chastising the young wife in my mind, how could she disobey her word? How foolish of her to look in the room she was told to not look in! I felt guilt at the same time that I was curious myself to know what was in the room. Guilt that I would have done the same thing and I felt the embarrassment and shame that she might have been feeling from her betrayal.

Then I read on and find that there is legitimacy to the feelings that I was having, that it points out very clearly the naivety that I have had in the past and at times still have.

Estes points out that at some level a woman recognizes that something is wrong, that she feels something out of place and will begin a process over and over again trying to find out what that something is but lacking guidance and support will not be able to finish it.

Another thing that Estes points out is that a naive young woman can often does agree to "become the prize of a vicious man because her instincts to notice and do otherwise are not intact." I never realized that that is what I had done when I was 16 years old agreeing to marry the father of my child.

She mentions that "young girls and boys are as though asleep about the fact that they themselves are prey." That we are all born "analgen, like the potential at the center of a cell: in biology the anlage is the part of a cell characterized as 'that which will become.' Within the anlage is the primal substance which in time will develop, causing us to become a complete someone."

"So our lives as women are ones of quickening the anlage. The Blue-Beard tale speaks to the awakening and education of this psychic center, this glowing cell. In service of this education, the youngest sister agrees to marry a force which she believes to be very elegant. The fairy-tale marriage represents a new status being sought, a new layer of the psyche about to be unfurled. However, the young wife has fooled herself. Initially she felt fearful of Bluebeard. She was wary. However, a little pleasure out in the woods causes her to overrule her intuition...." she discounts her instincts.

Estes mentions that woman are taught to deny the truth to '"make pretty" all manner of grotesqueness whether they are lovely or not... In the tale, even the mother colludes. She goes on the picnic, "goes along for the ride." She doesn't say a word of caution to any of her daughters. One might say the biological mother or the internal mother is asleep or naive herself, as is often the case in very young girls, or in un-mothered women."

I keep thinking, yes, yes this is true, this is exactly what happened to me!!

The older sisters represent the voice of warning against "romanticizing the predator.The initiated woman pays attention to the older sisters' voices in the psyche; they warn her away from danger. The uninitiated woman does not pay attention; she is as yet too identified with naivete."

So the marriage occurs and a woman who has chosen someone who is destructive to their lives will be determined to "cure that person with love." "They are in some way "playing house." One could say they have spent much time saying, "His beard isn't really so blue."

I've been in this situation, I've loved my heart dry, bleed out my love until I was dead inside. "As long as a woman is forced into believing she is powerless and/or is trained to not consciously register what she knows to be true, the feminine impulses and gifts of her psyche continue to be killed off."

"Instead of living freely, she begins to live falsely... there is a way out of all this, but one must have a key."

THE KEY

"Provides entry to the secret all women know and yet do not know. The key represents permission to know the deepest, darkest secrets of the psyche, in this case the something that mindlessly degrades and destroys a woman's potential."

Bluebeard's destructive plan was to create a farce, to tell the wife that she was free to do what she liked but really she was not free because she was kept from the knowledge of the predator, "even though deep in the psyche she already truly comprehends the issue."

"The naive woman tacitly agrees to remain "not knowing." Women who are gullible or those with injured instincts still, like flowers, turn in the direction of whatever sun is offered."

"Bluebeard forbids the young woman to use the one key that would bring her to consciousness. To forbid a woman to use the key to conscious self knowledge strips away her intuitive nature, her natural instinct for curiosity that leads her to discover "what lies underneath" and beyond the obvious. Without this knowing, the woman is without proper protection. If she attempts to obey Bluebeard's command not to use the key, she chooses death for her spirit. By choosing to open the door to the ghastly secret room, she chooses life."

That is it isn't it!! I identified with obeying Bluebeard's command! I choose all the time to not know, I choose death for my spirit!

Estes mentions that some psychological thinkers, interpret woman's curiosity with a negative connotation but men's curiosity is interpreted in a positive way. Woman are called nosy, whereas men are called inquiring.

The sisters, who were reluctant to marry Bluebeard, Estes mentions as having "the proper wildish instincts for curiosity intact." They nudge the youngest sister to find out what is behind the door.

For me the importance of this section comes in this point that Estes brings up. "Asking the proper question is the central action of transformation-in fairy tales, in analysis, and in individuation. The key question causes germination of consciousness. The properly shaped question always emanates from an essential curiosity about what stands behind. Questions are the keys that cause the secret doors of the psyche to swing open. Though the sisters knew not whether treasure or travesty lies beyond the door, they summon their goodly instincts to ask the  precise psychological question, "Where do you think that door is, and what might lie beyond it?"

"It is at this point that the naive nature begins to mature, to question, "What is behind the visible? What is it which causes that shadow to loom upon the wall?"

In fairy tales and stories the symbolic key is often represented by words such as "Open Sesame," as in Ali Baba, or "Bibbity-bobbity-boo!" as in Cinderella.

"In the Eleusinian mysteries, the key was hidden on the tongue, meaning the crux of the thing, the clue, the trace, could be found in a special set of words, or key questions. And the words women need most in situations similar to the one described in Bluebeard are: What stands behind? What is not as it appears? What do I know deep in my ovarios that I wish I did not know? What of me has been killed or lays dying?"

That is my question, "What of me has been killed or lays dying?"

It's important to remember that this is not a simple tale about men's oppression over women... no it is more complex than that. It is about the "killing aspect of the psyche, part of whose job it is to see that no consciousness occurs, (it) will continue to assert itself from time to time and twist off or poison any new growth. It is its nature. It is its job."

It is a complex battle that each woman must face.

"What of me has been killed or lays dying? and "How has it gotten to be that way?" That is my question, that is the answer that I am seeking to find

"A starved soul can become so filled with pain, a woman can no longer bear it. Because women have a soul-need to express themselves in their own soulful ways, they must develop and blossom in ways that are sensible to them and without molestation from others."

I will talk further about this, it is so late... I find it interesting though to note that I practiced the next point that she makes to a T in my former marriage. "Backtracking and Looping."

Goodnight Internet...

Woman Who Run With the Wolves

Just a tid-bit from this fantastic book for now, the story of The Four Rabbinim...

"One Night four rabbinim were visited by an angel who awakened them and carried them to the Seventh Vault of the Seventh Heaven. There they beheld the sacred Wheel of Ezekiel. Somewhere in the descent from Pardes, Paradise, to Earth, one Rabbi, having seen such splendor, lost his mind and wandered frothing and foaming until the end of his days. The second Rabbi was extremely cynical: "Oh I just dreamed Ezekiel's Wheel, that was all. Nothing really happened." The third Rabbi carried on and on about what he had seen, for he was totally obsessed. He lectured and would not stop with how it was all constructed and what it all meant... and in this way he went astray and betrayed his faith. The fourth Rabbi, who was a poet, took a paper in hand and a reed and sat near the window writing song after song praising the evening dove, his daughter in her cradle, and all the stars in the sky. And he lived his life better than before."

Lovely lessons don't you think?

(Shout out to Ecogrrl who introduced us to this book...)

Friday Night Thoughts

First of all band pictures, my son was rather hard to catch as he marched down the street playing Clarinet for the Timpview High School band...

 

 Koli is the fourth one in... hard to see...

Anyway, I stayed late at work today, basically because I got here late, like always... I'm glad that I have the freedom to stay late. I REALLY needed something to ease myself into working again.

So I'm here, the kids are at my parents (my oldest and youngest that is...). My daughter Angie is at Girls Camp, Sione is with his Dad.

Sooo, some thoughts. I'm 32, no seriously self... that's the number. I remember the time passing, yet it passed like a dream. Every waking day it seems as though I'm trying to get past it... trying to get over it... well almost every day... there are a few days and hours... minutes... seconds... that I wished would never end. Yet they treacherously did, and now on to the next minute of this day as simple and complex demands take my attention.

I hear the sound of the cleaners, emptying the trash. Soon they will discover me here...

They are down the hallway though... so I will write some more.

I remember getting my diploma, it's sitting on a shelf here in my cubicle, a weighty piece of paper... it took many, many moments of my life to get it. The hours I spent reading, rereading, and listening to lectures... taking tests. It's ironic that they dare to feel authorized to "confer" upon me some title, a degree, an award for all of that effort, "The degree of Bachelor of Science - Accounting." Honors, Cum Laude... irony. I felt so little when I graduated, a walking stone... In reality it was the equivalent of the paperwork you fill out after the labor of bringing life into this world, anticlimactic...

Especially since I had been through so much during this time, death, pain, sorrow, helplessness, lost love...

The death I starred at, late at night, it drained out of me, it lived in me... I struggled to know why it was there. The death I ritually wrapped in a cloth and carried to a tiny grave hoping to bury a piece of the sorrow. I faced it in the day time as well, with hard cramps and familial responsibilities. You never know how strong you are until you hide the pain from those who are too young to carry it...

Death I heard as a call in the night, a call to my heart... eminent relinquishment of a bond. I heard a voice tell me my Grandmother was about to die and so I went to see her in the hospital, stroked her hair back, marveling that my strong and gracious Grandmother could lie there helpless and oblivious. I talked to her, told her how much I loved her and she struggled against the tube down her throat to say something to me, anything! I told her that it was alright, that I understood and that I loved her. She lay back down and in the morning she died... my father was there to see her go.

How hard it is to grasp the divine. How hard it is to live with your hands to the glass, peering into the unknown.

I lay close to death, many times, and those who could have helped me were oblivious. After eating far to much gluten I found myself lying in bed, painfully caring for my baby daughter, struggling to lift her to my breast. Struggling to hang on. I told my mother that I was dying as I sat at her kitchen table, she didn't believe me. But I felt my soul rise, I felt disconnected from the world. It happened many times during the months, nay years after I had damaged my intestines so thoroughly. I remember lying in the tall grasses outside, staring at the kitchen window, weeping at the frailty I felt. The silent walk back inside, the utter helplessness as I watched the kids play, unable to direct them to stop doing this or that... to weak to speak to them. That is my own touch with death, I hope to not have to visit that world between worlds any time soon.

God, to me always this silent understanding that I've held of the universe. I've known that he was there ever since I walked silently through the dark gym behind the chapel partition, looking up at the dark green "Exit" sign, walking slowly as my shoes tapped on the gym floor. I think that God knows how to work with man better than men know how to work with man. Because I've often had to separate the actions that people take, the choices they make, from the actual manifestation of Gods will because very often people get it wrong. The closest that I've come to God is when I don't even know he is going to help me.

The blessing of a broken heart. The blessing of separation... the blessing of guilt, and the harm that unfounded guilt can do...

The important thing to remember is that when your heart is broken you are humble... it is quite different from deep grief. A broken heart is a sorrow for the state of separation that you feel from God. It is quite keen, poignant... and ultimately quite healing.

The separation that you feel creates the yearning, the sorrow that cannot be healed until you feel the healing balm of Gilead sooth your soul.

Guilt, by far the best indication that something is wrong with what you are doing... yet misinterpreted it can be harmful if all you do is live in a state of guilt. Becoming immune to guilt completely is to be completely unable to be persuaded by what is right, good and moral. But wallowing in guilt, feeling guilty for something that is not your fault... is destructive in and of itself. It is a fine line to walk to honor your conscience and yet to spurn the message of inadequacy or of failure. I suppose the best guide is to feel bad for those things that you intentionally do that you know are wrong. To question and evaluate those things that other people have influenced you to do and/or have done to you... and to not allow yourself to feel guilty for not having the time to do everything that you want to do.

Prayer, useless if you're not even trying, but a vital connection to the divine if used properly. The trouble is knowing in your mind and in your heart what you should do, because often your mind doesn't agree with your heart... and sometimes you wish that you had another choice... and sometimes the impossible seems to be within your grasp, it is marvelous.

I'm going to sign off, wishing that I knew more about this puzzling world... and yet ironically wishing that all I knew were those people whom I loved, and wishing that I could stay with each one of them forever...

Paying Attention

Life is so beautiful, so fragile and so hard to grasp a hold of. What do I know of it?

It has been a great teacher, each little day slipping into another, honestly at times it has been hard. Yet I would rather grasp at it and keep going rather than let it pass by.

More than anything I despise ignorance, ignorance is not something that is easy to eradicate though, you either learn from experience or you learn from searching out what others know about life and the world.

There are things that you know, from learning, from observation and then there are the things that you know in your heart.

I can't tell you that I have seen God, that I have read enough or know enough about life and history to say that all of the world can come up with a clear vision of what the reality of religion is.

I can tell you though that through all of the hard times, when I needed extra knowledge and assurance God has been there.

There is a tangible state of mind, state of feeling, state of being; that comes from quiet intentional worship.

So I go throughout my day's, it is hard but I'm trying, trying to eradicate the ignorance in my life.

Sometimes the storms of life drive away the debris that piles up from inattention...

it is when I am paying attention, to life, to my thoughts, to why I am feeling the way that I am that I really get somewhere; so I hope I can pay attention more often and hopefully I can learn to avoid ignorance.

(I just want to say thank you to everyone who's been such a help and a blessing to me as of late and I want to say how proud I am of my brother Evan, who through the recent e-mail that he has sent us has shown a great deal of understanding of life, of leadership and of the Gospel... Plus I want to thank Susan for helping me yesterday, her tips have helped a lot... though I think I will have to call on her again) ;)

The Peace of the Gospel

I am naturally a curious, questioning person who wants to know about everything. I have mounds of books around me, an attempt at osmosis a hope that somehow I will find the time to read them or else that somehow they will become imprinted upon my soul and mind. I have always been like this, always loved to be surrounded by books.

I'm the type of person who will catch fire with something and will pursue it until I have satisfied myself that I've studied enough about the subject to have a good grasp on what it is and then I try out the theory in my life to test how valid it is. There are quite a few things that I know through this method, for instance that fat (real fats like butter from grass fed cows, coconut oils, olive oil etc.) certainly will not make someone fat but that they are good for you and that your body craves them. I know that milk, raw milk, can be a good thing... but that It is mostly not for me.

Trial and error... one herb after the other... what works.

Then there is philosophy, I took an "Ethics and Values" class about 10 years ago. I became immersed in exploring philosophy, if this that and the other is true than that is true. I think that if a person doesn't have a good grasp on critical thinking that they could become quite confused... and I was, because I didn't know how to sift out one theory from the next.... all I knew is that most of it felt wrong, and perhaps intuition is better than reasoning in these matters. Or else I've not been raised to question, and questioning made me feel uncomfortable.

At about the same time I became engulfed in a consuming desire to really know whether or not the Gospel itself was true, and what about other religions, what were they about?

So I started to read everything that I could get my hands on, all the material that I could ever need really had been surrounding me for the whole of my life. That is everything about the Gospel, about other religions I took to the internet. I searched and questioned and thought over a lot of deep and weighty matters all at once and then found that my questions had run out, there were still a few that couldn't be answered through the texts that I had on hand and that bothered me, niggling little unanswered questions, right at the pit of my mind.

Yet they were not what I thought of as fundamental discrepancies in the course of  theological verity, so I decided upon a course of cautious worship as I tried out theological theories in my life. I guess that's the way I've been ever since, somewhat of a skeptical believer.

There have been times though, where I have been confronted by pure and sweet peace. When I have felt with utmost certainty that what I have heard and read and have done was the right thing to do. When the Gospel has brought great peace to my life. Even miracles I'm not afraid to call such events and moments by the label of miracle. It is at times such as these that I regret most deeply that I am not a more constant personality, that I learn through fits of enthusiasm rather than from gleaning wisdom as I go. Well, I do find that I learn a bit more here and there as I go along... but I seriously think I need to develop better habits of study.

Thus the peace of the Gospel, to some it might be a torturous burden of guilt that they can't seem to shake because they can't seem to live up to the lofty ideals that the Gospel seems to impose. That it is a burden to believe, because belief requires commitment and commitment is hard when committing means reexamining your thoughts, your beliefs, your ideals... and yes often times it involves reevaluating things which we have accepted as simple habits that cannot be changed or things which we would rather not face.

I've felt all of that, yet I've come to a point where I know, I simply know that all I can do is live so that I am facing the truth and embracing it rather than turning from it. What is truth? That which we have thoroughly examined, which we have placed on the alter of disbelief or temporary acceptance and have found that if we violate or disregard that bit of truth than we will face consequences for which we will suffer... it is a natural thing. Therefore the Gospel is simply a guide which points out the natural and logical consequences for our actions, if it were false than we would be able to justify our actions against the untruth of it and find that nothing happened. So far I have found nothing which has been an unjustified law or untruth in the Gospel itself.

Then why the fits and starts, why is it so hard to simply live and believe and shout to the world that I know that these are truths?

It is for the same reason that I sometimes hesitate to tell people that such and such food that they are eating is not good for them, well they eat it right? and it hasn't killed them, right? True, simply and yet if it truly is something antithetical to health then the consequences will eventually show themselves, and I will have nothing to say except that I knew it wasn't good... but that I couldn't tell them that because they wouldn't listen, and what do I know anyway? Except that I've tried it, and it hurt me... and that everyone must find out the truth for themselves because I sure can't tell them what it is.

That brings me to the peace of the temple. There is concentrated peace there, the kind that settles into your soul up in the mountains or while sitting near a river, or a beautiful lake or the ocean. Going to the temple and emerging is like breathing a breath of fresh air. Personally I need to partake of that a bit more... I haven't been for far too long.

Perceptions

I am thinking today about perceptions. What I see, hear, smell, taste, touch may be completely different from what you perceive. Perceptions may change as well what may have been one day may be different the next based on a lot of factors.

Perceptions shape our thoughts and our actions, for instance, say you meet someone for the first time and think to yourself, "they are arrogant, they are shy, they are nice, they are not nice."

These are perceptions formed from a brief interaction, in many ways we need these judgements for some sort of guidance about who to develop a friendship with, who to trust and who to avoid.

Yet many times these perceptions are wrong, thus knowing this I try to keep an open mind about people until they prove quite succinctly that they are someone to avoid.

I have also found that perceptions shape the thought processes of others with whom we meet and interact, that is, what you say can effect upon other peoples ideas about themselves and life in general.

Sometimes we characterize our children into certain categories, "oh he's the smart one, she's lazy, she is just cranky all of the time." Admittedly I am guilty of this, for kids all have very different personalities.

I tend to think that these labels can be limiting, who wants to be known as the lazy one? The cranky one? I try to avoid saying anything negative about the kids in front of them, plus I try to avoid excessively praising one over the other when the other kids are in the room (It creates jealousies.)

Labels become self perpetrating prophecies, when your children hear the things that you say about them, they will act out what they think your perception of them is.

It can effect you as well, your own self talk can limit or help you.

I think, that in order to avoid ridiculing ourselves, we need to take a look at things in perspective. Look over your whole life, the opportunities that you have had, the situation that you have grown up in, mistakes that you have made. All of these things are in the past, you must accept that they have happened and move on.

Then, think about what brings you joy, what you enjoy doing. Focus on those things, and ignore voices of self doubt. Look at yourself in the mirror and smile, look into your own eyes and find acceptance. Move forward, don't dwell, move forward.

Saying all of this, I know that depression is very real. I used to be depressed all of the time. The change in my diet helped me to overcome it, though I still go through certain periods of depression.

What I find helps me is acknowledging that depression as a thing separate from myself, and pressing forward with my goals and plans despite it all. I fight it, I look for foods that I can eat to help change the chemical balance in my body (Omega-3 oils, Maca, Roobios tea are some). I exercise even if I don't particularly feel like it, and even if I think that I look like the biggest dork out on the street I keep walking anyway.

Depression brings with it different perceptions, and with those I try to make the best of the emotion by writing something. Some of the most interesting things I have written have come from the depressions that I have gone through.

Then, when I am on the other side, I am more able to feel the gladness of life and the beauty of things.

Don't ever think, if you are depressed, that it is a reflection of your true self. You are a creature of light and life, an interesting person. Not the outward shell, not the inward sadness but someone who is of eternal worth.

I am very happy today to have heard from a returning missionary in our ward, and to then go and hear from my little brother who is set to leave on his mission on the 7th of August.

He is very special to me, he was the first little creature that I mothered as a young girl. I remember reading to him the book "The Giving Tree," over and over again. Plus I remember him asking me "how do we hear, what makes sound?"

I explained to his rapt listening ears that there are invisible sound waves that travel through the air to reach our ear drum. I then had him recall seeing the vibration of things like drums and strings.

He has struggled with ADD or earlier on ADHD and being medicated with Ritalin. My parents did not know what else to do, I don't blame them it is a hard thing to deal with.

In fact my own little boy has some form of ADD, not diagnosed but I know the signs. I brought him out of school last year to home school him and have been partially successful as he now knows how to read and he's not dumb on his math facts either.

Yet he still struggles with writing things, and he does struggle a bit with the flow of reading (plus some other facts). I wish I could have done better for him, I went through a terrible year last year and the beginning of this, so I didn't teach him as much as I could have.

But at least he wants to learn and that is an important factor in life, something that being in school was zapping away from him. I have to send him to second grade though, because I need to work, I fear for the little fellow.

Anyhow, this post is long enough. I hope you all have a good and blessed day.

SG

Abide with Me

Wouldn't it be nice,

to be in a place that was safe from the world,

safe from judgment,

safe from the fray of trying to live.

To just sit and listen to the strains of heavenly chords

in a nice warm chair, wrapped up in love

and to finally be able to talk, freely, calmly

to someone who cared enough to just listen, again, without judgment

someone who loves you so much,

someone who believes in you

and knows that you can do something great

someone without an agenda of their own,

all they want is for you to heal

and become stronger

They would never ask you to compromise in any respect

they love you too much

and understand that what is best is what is right

They hold sacred life, and love

and you can just rest

That is how I felt when listening to "Abide with Me" by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, that I was loved and cherished... I wanted to stay there in that chair, it is so hard to face the world, to be kind and loving without being compromised. To be taken seriously, and respected without having to resort to meanness. Firmness without anger, guidance without hatred, love without lust. Can I just curl up in that chair and stay?

Ramblings

To a certain degree we all struggle with the perception and reality of aloneness. It is a perception because often, though we feel alone, we are surrounded by people. It is a reality because unfortunately we live and breath and die with the constant companion of self and there is no other that can dwell there unless we open and let others in to whatever degree that is possible.

In fact that is the dilemma that we face when trying to open ourselves up to the influence of spirit. The inner voice is the strongest voice, and even then the inner voice can be silenced  by distractions, nonsense and idiocy. The challenge is to embrace the enlightening influence of the spirit, incorporating it into our awareness and balancing that with the immediacy of the corporal world in which we live.

I think my inner voice has been silenced in many way's at times by certain desires to fit in to the general mold, not surprisingly this general tendency leads me to silence as in the world of generality I really have no voice as I am generally and naturally separate and distinct from others, though I have the same underlying desires of being understood and loved for who I am.

Ironically I find not only silence but a retreating into a shell of defense when I allow myself to be categorized as a certain stereotypical person, which I suppose is unavoidable in some respects.

The irony really is that I betray myself in order to fit into the mold and then find that I am uncomfortable there.

So this blog then has been an effort to blend in, as unnecessary as that may be, and instead of writing lengthy discourses on my thoughts (as I tended to do in the beginning) I have limited it to a few pithy antidotes about my life and whatever amusing or enlightening bit of media that I came across... so much dis-ingenuity that I have often thought about closing this blog from the sheer burden of having to come up with more of the same to post.

Thus, I vow to ramble away if the need strikes me, for then truly this blog will be a reflection of myself.

SG

Upstanding Citizens

Today I had the occasion of sitting in a court house, awating to speak to the judge about something that I had no control over and still don't have any control over but which has been the primary source of antagonism in my life for the past year and a half... almost two years.

Actually this was the second case of the day, (different matters) the first one at 10 am the next at 2. Agravating the situation is the fact that they sent us to the wrong court room, we sat through a trial, then found that we were late to the court room that we were supposed to be in and had to sit through about 30 custody cases before being able to speak to the judge to tell him that we had been there all that time (before he issued a bench warrant).

So during the time from 2-3 while we were in the wrong court room I was pondering the lawyers and the arguments, the judge and the process and of course writing whatever I could that came to mind.

Some of what I was thinking is that I have always tended to shy away from argument, I hate it when people try to "read" other people and make judgements about them; in my quest to avoid judging others I also have found that I excuse others, don't get angry about things that I rightly should get angry about and subsequently get taken advantage of at times.

This tendancy has improved quite a bit without suffering from too judgemental an attitude, but still it has led me into situations (some that I am currently in) that have been very agravating, and if I would have judged correctly the people and situations that I was confronting things would be a lot less messy than they are now.

Another tendancy is my hatred of being the bad guy, of saying no, putting my foot down, forcing the issue. Perhaps I need to change that and be more unafraid to push the issues a bit more. Part of it has to do with (unfortunantly and I hate bringing this up) the tendancy of my own Mom to not push the issues about anything. Plus insecurity, not wanting to be in that uncomfortable position of being angry and/or dealing with others anger.

Another bit of thought today was the idea that for some reason society has turned against those who strive after excellence. They uphold idiocy, stupidity and find a great deal of humor in it all. I know the appeal, truely, yet I have to wonder about the world that we live in and how unfit people are becoming for critical thinking.

It is amusing to watch people being stupid, I suppose, there are many shows on TV that display peoples stupidity. To me though I feel a great sense of loss that there is so little enjoyment in, what used to be normal. Things like striving after the memorization of a great poem, the enjoyment of listening to someone perform a piece of piano music well, the enjoyment of intelligent conversation about the issues of life. These things used to be how people entertained each other while sitting around together at night.

I like thinking about things, writing stuff, talking to people... I wish there was someone to discuss it all with.

To this long post I'm going to add what I wrote in court.

Conjecture, supposition, clear headedness, arguement, blind judgement, is justice blind?

How much ignorance is there? How ignorant am I? Fit for the position, how much are we unfit? There is so much... Upstanding citizens, hard working, full of integrity, these citizens, these, are scorned for the heights they acheive. Shall I then fear to be upstanding? Shall I fear to lose friends and acquaintance? Who then shall I relate to? Who then shall I speak to?

Plus, as a closing thought (you can tell I have been thinking too much today can't you) people want those things that others have achieved, like success, brilliance, admiration and the houses and things and respect that have been earned by hard working citizens... yet they scorn those same people for their hard work, they scorn them as being snobby, arrogant, self important... when in reality who, if not these citizens, will be fit to lead, if everyone is caught up in the celebration of idiocy?

Interesting, that I have recieved this e-mail newsletter which starts out discussing these same issues, here is a link, (and just so you all know, I try to read both sides to the conservative/liberal argument because I am trying to be fair minded. And yes this is a highly conservative bent and could possibly offend someone, nevertheless they do make some good points)

(Omitting Link as it is no longer valid).

Seizing the Opportunity to Live

In some ways everything is in suspense, the still air around me, deceptive in its transparency, its calm, where has it ragged before now?

Life is moving forward despite everything, despite answers to some of the questions that I have about who I am, what I want to focus on in my life. I once thought that I knew where I was going and what I should do every day until the culmination of my faithful and fruitful life. I thought I had all of the answers before, but things have changed.

In many ways I am putting off doing normal things, in some ways it is more difficult to get to the cleaning and the laundry when there is this endless sense of suspended time.

But isn't this also what I have always wanted, a suspension of time to do nothing but read and think and be? Yes I admit to having made the wish in times past. In some ways it has come true and I am trying to take the opportunity for what it is.

Yet I find that some of the normal felicitous feelings of living have altered as well, the urgency to finish some project or other is not there, in a way I am adrift in the sea with no breeze to set me sailing towards my goal. I am paddling as all get out, but it feels a little pointless.

Yet I know time, and I know life, that it will change and this opportunity is never going to present itself in quite the same way again. So I must seize it with all that I have as the chance to make up for those little skills that I feel that I have never learned well enough, since I have been going full throttle at life, trying to stay afloat, ever since I was 16 and married so young.

Perhaps one day, all of what I have been grappling with and dealing with will culminate into understanding. As a once often read piece of prose extorts; stop getting ready to live and live your life, stop waiting for tomorrows and seize the day (this is the gist of it anyway).

August

Today is a crisp August day, I cannot help but recall the feelings of fresh breezes through fevered mind that August has always brought to me, fresh, new, life. I feel as though I am a young student, getting ready for the new school year again, it is quite a different feeling than the frenzied pace of summer, the madness of winter, and the early awakening of spring, in fact I would go so far as to say that fall is my favorite time of year. For me there is a bit of longing in it too, longing for the girlhood friends that have lost their sense of life, who no longer will link their arms with mine to stroll barefooted down the sidewalk, around the block, or into the cool wet water of the river. I feel as though I would like to cry, to pull some felicitous compatriot out of the air and embrace her, sigh. Back to being sensible again, at least for now.

Grateful

Today I am reflecting on what has happened over the past year or so that I have been blogging.

I originally thought that it was the way to keep in touch with your family by putting updates and pictures up. I didn't think it was worth much attention or time.

So it has been a surprise to find so much more here than the obvious, namely the transformation of thought that I have gone through from speaking with people from many different cultures.

What I was going through when I started was a lot of insecurity about who I was, setting up a blog forced me to define who I was. To choose what I liked, to write out my thoughts, to see how people reacted and what they wrote about.

Now I have goals, and direction. It is worth a lot, I am grateful, for the changes, and for the friends. What a beautiful force of fate!

Henry David Thoreau

I think Henry David Thoreau got a lot of things right

A quote about living at Walden Pond:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

I think we all need to metaphorically go to the woods to learn what we may of the truth.

Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity

Beautiful

Flitting Thoughts

Sometimes I get the feeling that there is something out there, pure beautiful thought that I would like to dwell upon but I have crowded so much into my life, into my time that I am overlooking the sweet nectar of knowledge.

Really I would enjoy browsing around in the library, finding something that caught my interest and then sitting down right there to devour the words. I need things that make me think.

But then, being a mom and all kind of disrupts that plan.

I am not really the cloistered librarian type with the funky glasses and shy ways. Nope, I would also die of starvation if I couldn't speak to and communicate with a bunch of people.

Yet I did work in the library once upon a time. When I was about 13 or 14 I worked in the library at my junior high school, that was heavenly for me!! The smell of books and paper, the solitary moments sorting and shelving books, the freedom to explore the books. Yes my inner nerd shone brightly at the time. ;D

I'm trying to learn though how to choose just one book to devour at a time so that my attention is not constantly flitting from one thing to another (as it has been lately). So currently I have only four or five books that I am attempting to read but not getting very far on. ;p

Yes, I must give up a few and focus, because I need to think, and this flitting thing is just not doing it for me.

;S

SG

Just a quick how do, to ya all!!

We can feel so lost sometimes, I get lost when trying to do too many things at once. When I do that, I end up standing around indecisive until my entire day is gone, Oi'

I've gotta get more organized, I literally want to do so much that I get stuck on where to begin. Plus it's hard for me to prioritize I usually end up intensely working on one area, letting everything else slide until I get what it is I want to do, then coming up for air and jumping into another intense project. Except I told myself I wasn't going to do that anymore, try to be more rational, so I have just been puttering around not getting anything done. Except cleaning, I did get some cleaning done over the weekend!! It was driving me crazy, the house gets progressively worse until I can't stand it anymore then I like to throw everyone out and clean until I regain some sanity.

Usually at these moments I walk around the house cleaning and singing my heart out, both very therapeutic occupations. That or I listen to music, run up and down the stairs carrying stuff from room to room, and dance at certain intervals just to break things up. ;D

Speaking of singing, I've really enjoyed singing a beautiful patriotic piece with our ward choir, "This is a choice land." It allows me the chance to belt it out without everyone in the house wondering about my sanity.

Next week is going to be a bit sad because my oldest son is going with the scouts on a 30 mile hike and is going to be gone all week. *Pout* I love that little fellow!!

Anyhow, I am off, got so much to do and so little time... perhaps I can convince myself that it is not entirely necessary to read a book on the history of the world, but then again, it could always mean more interesting things to write about!

SG

(Oh and the title of this post was influenced by the western movie going on in the background)

A Conversation with My Blog

Well, what do you want to do?

Write

Write? You seem to be stuck, wading around in the muck of your own depressingly boring thoughts.

What if I am!? What's it to you!?

Nothing, nothing, back away slowly...

*Sigh*

Just my life, not terribly interesting... ;D

Today's been a funky day for me so far. Got up early to walk up the hill to my mum's, thought through a bunch of stuff, grabbed my bike and rode it down the hill.

I lost a pound, 1 pound... but I have been pounding the pavement, which tends to make my body react at first by inflamation and holding onto every ounce it can get.

I've lost weight before by doing Weight Watchers, got down to 120 wohoo!! Cept' I felt like a walking zombie (not enough fat in my diet).

So now I am trying to do things the other way round' which is eat right and exercise like well, a maniac and all!! ;D

Another thing that is frustrating to me is the whole money issue. I am so frustrated, we need money!! Sam's trying, plus he's going to school, but things are not panning out.

He took a week off school to run up to North Dakota to work with his cousins who've got a contract up there. Turns out that he needs to take care of a few things down this way before they'll let him onto the army base. So he's neither studying or working!!

But it's been good for me actually to have him gone. I needed some evaluation time, so much has happened in our relationship over the past 13 years, sometimes I get to this point where I am like GAH!! That's it, it's over. Then I will think of what else I can try and keep going.

So with all that I'm sitting here today contemplating re-working my resume (again) and whether I should push harder to get a job.

I just recently discovered a source of Gluten in my diet, the Tapioca flour that I've been using from my local health food store is contaminated!! It's milled on the same equipment with the other grains!!

I went up to SLC with my parents on Saturday to buy some certified Gluten Free Tapioca Flour. I can tell!! A big difference in how I feel, the clarity of my mind, the anxieties, the frikin' stuff goin on in my gut!!

That's what is so annoying about this!! I think I am alright, for me I can go walking around in an "alright" state, but it messes with my mind!! My thought processes!! When I get gluten out of my diet its like I am looking through clear glass, when it is in my diet its like looking through streaked glass. I can see either way, but it is so much better to be looking out of a clean window!

So I am glad to get out the bit of contamination that was in my diet.

What is hard for my dad is the idea that I seemed normal when I was growing up, "Seemed" normal!! If he only knew!! For him I have gone overboard, "a little bit of gluten isn't going to kill you." Well no, not right away, but it will and does hurt me. He kept saying "but I used to make you peaunut butter sandwiches all the time." I'm like, "I know that Dad, but your not taking the time to read about it and understand. It's terrible what it does to you."

Luckily my Mom is now on board, for me having a Gluten problem, though it is a hereditary disease so she and everyone else in my family should be tested. But I am not pushing it because it stresses her out if I do.

Anyhow, that's what's going on. Kazow!! I've gotta get out to garden, the Morning Glory has taken over!!

Tired, and feeling down... but writing.

Sometimes I fall into these melencholy moods for no particular reason at all. It's irksome irritating!!

So ya' today's been a bit melencholy for me, probably because I stayed up until almost 4 am trying to get Sam off to go work with his cousins in North Dakota (and apparently they are to take a short trip up to Canada as well).

I contemplate things when I am in this type of mood, like what I should be doing with my time rather than what I am doing. Plus I hold arguments with myself, because I tend to put myself down when I am feeling down.

Sometimes it is alright though to get down, and sad. It's normal, it's human, I mean we can't all be Pollyanna right?

So turning my "temporary" down mood into a creative outlet, I wrote a little piece on my.

I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you did not have a down day (unless you needed one of course). :D