Pain

I've felt some pain lately that has taken me by surprise lately.  I mean, there's not a terminal illness that I'm fighting, but there's other things that I am.  Mentally, physically, emotionally, etc.  And sometimes I've just wanted to withdraw from that pain or at least want it to go away so that I don't need to deal with it.  But you know, there is strength and healing to be had in facing pain.  By that I mean enduring it and sharing it with others leads us to vulnerability, love, and hope.  It may not make the pain go away, but accepting and facing it with people we love offers such clarity that makes it easier to bear.  

This poem really helped me face my pain.  I hope it helps you, dear reader.     

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses

your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears. 

Khalil Gibran

Thoughts Lately

I've been thinking a lot lately about the power of words as well as the power of belief.  And the power of connection, but that is kind of another story (as you can see from the previous post).  Sometimes I get so trapped into thinking about me and myself and my problems with my four walls and my heart just sinks.  I realized this week how far I have plummeted and that it really hurts, but that is OK.  As I was processing my feelings about it all, this poem just sort of flowed from it.  I don't really consider myself a poet and have not labored over this one enough to have it clearly convey precisely what I'm looking for, but I wanted to share it.

Rebuke

Huddled, peering, until now
blanketed by familiar dimness.
Living in fear obliviously, unintentionally, unawares,
Until you, in a stated observation, shine a light on my cowering frame and force me to see my shaking in the shadows.
I resist, resent, recoil,
an animal fighting to keep things the way they are, focused on the pain of change and seeing
no kindness in your outreach.  I'm content with how I was,
even if it means I was plummeting.
Falling from what I once was and hoped and felt and loved.
I knew that I has slipped, but did not realize how fast I was going.
At least I grew numbed to the cold and deaf to the whistling wind.
The change you spark hurts, like pins and needles,
incessant, inescapable, insistent.
You've yanked off the blankets and until I get up and do something,
I am no longer at ease.
Sharing my burden with you makes it feel heavier, more real and weighty,
as though acknowledgement had granted it actuality.
Yet with the weight I heave on my shoulders, my heart heaves relief
and rekindles hope at the memory of connection.
Yes, that hope hurts.  But, oh, how that hope causes in the heart rejoicing, remembering, regaining,
reviving.  

Connection

Whew.  Its been a while!  How is everything going with you, dear reader?  While it is the typical lazy dog days of summer time, I have felt a little overwhelmed lately--err, rather like I've been on the verge of being overwhelmed for a long time.  Its is an odd feeling.  Moments of ugh have been had, moments of aha have been had, moments of face palming have been had, moments of high fives have been had.  And you?

I want to share something that we've been talking a lot about in the persuasive writing class I'm taking right now.  We've been talking about a therapist named Carl Rogers, who developed a theory of communication that has been applied to persuasive writing.  Its a pretty interesting form of persuasion because unlike other methods that seek present an opinion and bring others to that opinion, using Rogerian theory means that the writer is open to being persuaded themselves.  According to Rogers in the process of getting to know one's audience through "genuineness (openness and self-disclosure), acceptance (being seen with unconditional positive regard), and empathy (being listened to and understood)", one's own ideas on an issue may change, a risk that one takes in seeking to understand the other side.  

As part of our discussion, we watched this video.  I was struck by it and just really liked it a lot and wanted to share it with you.  I really like what she says at the end about how connection mades things better.  I feel like connection does make things better, even if it means that we get a little bit vulnerable and open ourselves to the sharing and bearing of hard-to-handle emotions, both our own and those with whom we connect.  

This continued and I thought about empathy and how Jesus Christ came to empathize with us, to be able to understand and share our feelings.  I love what is written of Him in the scriptures, especially about His role in our lives.  Alma shares it so beautifully: 

"And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.  Now the Spirit knoweth all things; nevertheless the Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance; and now behold, this is the testimony which is in me."

I know that He is there to connect with us always.  I am so grateful for the invitation that He extends to be yoked with Him and to take on the challenges in our lives with Him by our side.  I've recently had a really unhelpful habit of comparing myself with others and one day, it became clear that the Savior's invitation "Follow me" is between me and Him.  My connection with Christ and my decision to follow Him is not based on what happens around me or what others are doing or not doing.  Its me keeping my eyes on Him and doing what I feel is what He would do in the situations that I encounter.  

Remembering this, I feel to say with Paul, "For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.  Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need."    Its so personal.  He is waiting for us--for me and for you--to come, to give grace and mercy and help as we--you and I--seek it.  I love that and know that He is waiting out of love, that He is the epitome of genuineness, acceptance, and empathy.  It is so beautiful.  

  

One day

One day, my mom and I went to Home Depot before Sam's volleyball game to copy some keys.  We approached the check out counter manned by a thin, older but stately lady who became one of my favorite people at the end of our short exchange.  I felt that she was tired, not in a careless way, but a sort of weariness that comes from the weighty burdens and concerns of daily life.  We started talking and she said "I've helped you folks before.  Yes, I remember you."  She then told us that her day had been good, but her morning not so much, not hesitating to share that she had talked to God to ask Him to help her receive motivation and self-control.  The wry smile and shake of her head as she related her inner struggle and relationship with God made me feel like I was talking with an old, well known friend who knew God well and loved Him, though perhaps wanted Him to do things a little differently in her life than He was.  She was so genuine and warm with us, virtually strangers--who would probably not see her again in the near future.  I felt entrusted with a treasure, a knowledge of this woman and of something so wonderfully personal as her relationship with God; a treasure freely given by her and also by Him.

My heart brimmed and flowed over as we walked out of the store.  People.  I love the diversity among us and the common ties of being human that connect us.  I hope I can be more like this woman--giving and kind and a friend right from the start.  Sometimes I feel so conscious of myself that any opening up to others would be simply be too much for my frail self to handle, like I would melt into some puddle of indistinguishable mess.  Even now, writing this to let you, dear reader, (anonymous and ambiguous as you may be) know something that touched me, I can feel my color rising, along with my pulse.  But its not all about me.  I feel like its in sharing about ourselves, we can connect with one another.  Like this lady from Home Depot, we invite others into our lives, and not just by opening the door slightly, peering at whoever is outside and making terse conversation to figure out if they are worth talking to or if they will accept us.  Nope.  That is not how my friend from Home Depot greeted me.  She opened the door wide, pulled me into an embrace I thought was reserved for kindred, and wove herself into the fibers of my heart, there to be fondly remembered and looked up to.  She wasn't thinking about herself or about my reaction.  She simply shared.  In such inhibiting sharing, I'll admit that she stunned me a little bit, but it was gradual and and even welcome, rather than repulsive or anxiety instigating.

I learned a lesson that day.  The joy and disarming power of sharing one's self, of wearing ones' heart on their sleeve if you will.  Not that it is something to be manipulated or used to one's advantage; indeed, such calculation would erase the quiet power of sharing.  Nor is it to be taken too far and let all boundaries of propriety be crossed in the name of giving one's self without reserve.  I think at its best, it is being without guile, being honest, pure, and true.  Wise, but harmless.  I want to be like that more.  Without reservation, but with a healthy dose of discernment,  gladly swinging open the door to those who come knocking.

Light and Water

These are two of my favorite things on this planet.  So vital to our life, so ordinary and simple and constant, yet so beautiful and enriching and just so good.  I just realized the other day how connected they are; that is, how intertwined they are in our language.  The way we describe light is usually in images that involve water.  Bathe.  Filter.  Reflect.  Stream.  Pour.  Flood.  Seep.  And I imagine that other words for water would work just as splendidly with light.  Words like trickle, bubble, and others that just sort of slip from my attention right now.  So cool.

Oh and also, I failed to complete the haiku group by leaving out winter.  My apologies.  I do love winter, with its crispness, clarity, and cold that coaxes us outside to play and then eventually prods us race back home, eagerly anticipating warmth.  Somehow I feel like the constraints of a haiku may not fully express everything about you.  Anyhow.  Here's to you, winter.

Snowfall.  Quiet, still.
It envelops, yet sharpens,
Ladens every branch.

Poetry

So I just found out a little while ago that April is National Poetry Month.  How cool is that?!  A whole month celebrating this creative outlet of words in various forms, all laden with meaning and feeling and goodness.  In honor of that, I decided to share a few poems that I have been working on--they are not finished exactly, but I'm working on them.  Yet part of me feels like it may be a while before that work is finished; a joy and burden of wrestling with words.

Bright, vibrant spring green,

a promise of abundance.  

If but well tended.  

Raindrops on branches, 

suspended, glisten like pearls. 

Nature's adornment.

Autumn leaves descend,

Crimson, orange, yellow, brown. 

Change made beautiful.

Words.  Feelings, 

hopes tied up in letters.  

A soft fawn colored paper wrapped package, 

unmarked but intriguing, waiting.   

Meaning as varied as the audience that reads them, 

opens them, writes them, shares them, 

cherishes them, loves them.  

Each package to each individual a different gift,

sometimes what is sent differs from what is received, 

but with that, 

a world of potential and value and richness, waiting.  

Broken Hearts

First, a disclaimer.  This IS NOT a rant about a breakup or anything of the mushy-gushy sort, a fact I feel I must clarify, partly because I feel like I always associated broken hearts with romance as though the phrase was patented by whatever pop singer happened to be the latest rage.  I shrugged off just about anything that referred to hearts being broken as something that didn't apply to me because I didn't intend to do any heart breaking or to experience it for myself.  But, after much reflection and stepping outside my shallow definition of a broken heart, I found that I have had a broken heart, many times, and from that have found a glorious ocean of wisdom and understanding and love.  And I just wanted to share a little bit about that.

Second, an apology.  I feel like here I spew my thoughts with intention to clean them up before presenting them to anyone, but they just sort of slip past that clean up phase more often than I would like to admit.  So my apologies if what is written here fails to make sense or end up as rambles rather than something worth reading.  Also, thank you, dear reader, for indulging such a long prologue.

I just finished reading a wonderful book by Kate DiCamillo, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane.  While a children's book, I found it deep and moving, absolutely refreshing and much needed after some rather jagged literature that I had encountered earlier that week.  It follows a china rabbit who experiences several unexpected turnovers in his life and changes because of them and the people involved with them.  He learns to love, but not without heartbreak, and his story deepened my understanding of the phrase.  It may be considered juvenille, I feel like love is really a timeless, ageless theme, not limited to one age group.  DiCamillo begins with a quote from a poem called "The Testing-Tree" by Stanley Kunitz and I feel like today, it resonated with me. "The heart breaks and lives by breaking."  

My heart broke today.  I realized that it was time to change and while that was good and I knew it was coming and I was looking forward to it, being confronted by the reality of it--an actual time when I was expected in a place other than home and its surroundings--stunned me and I sort of reeled for a little bit.  That heartbreak didn't happen because I was rejected or spurned or was let go, it happened because my life as I knew it was changing.  I feel like change--at least for often stiff, inflexible me--invariably brings with it a break in me somewhere.  Yet, thats not a bad thing, really.  Yes, it means pain, ache, hurt.  But it is good to be broken.  It means that one can be restored and helped--if we seek it out and receive it.  I love scriptures that refer to broken hearts:

"And ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit. And whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost, even as the Lamanites, because of their faith in me at the time of their conversion, were baptized with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and they knew it not.  3 Nephi 9:20

  "The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; 
   and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit."  Psalms 34:18

I think that life includes a lot of broken heart periods.  I hope that I can receive it, with the hope of becoming more wise and understanding and sensitive rather than recoil from it and become bitter about it.

How do you embrace having a broken heart?

Sick

This past week I was sick, dear reader.  I caught a bug of some kind that gave me 4 days of wiped out, feverish, achy, I-break-a-sweat-when-I walk-more-than-20-steps-though-mentally-perfectly-sound-and-thus-feeling-stir-crazy time.  Yet the whole experience has been really clarifying for me as I thought about how I was not entirely well emotionally, mentally, or spiritually--not hugely malignant problems mind you, but I was ill or wounded and needed treatment just as badly as my physical body.  Those unseen issues were a little bit harder to find and take care of, though as I examined them I felt that I could see the poor effect that my incompleteness took on me.  I feel like I needed to experience weakness and recovery physically so that I could internalize and apply it to myself emotionally, mentally, and physically.  And while I still have a lot to learn, I think that I grasped some ideas that have translated to a better understanding of becoming whole.  

Recovery takes time.  I had things I thought I needed to or wanted to do and being sick just threw a wrench in my timetable.  For a little while I got frustrated, irked that I didn't have the ability to do what I felt was necessary, in the time that I wanted to accomplish it.  I focused on me--what I could not do, what I needed to do, and when I needed to do it--but soon grew weary of that approach because it zapped whatever energy I did have.  I realized what was expedient and what was not and felt better able to do what mattered and let go of whatever I was clinging to that didn't really actually hold much weight, all things considered.  Getting better was a really gradual process for me this time around, and I think that by having it drawn out and having a little bit of improvement each day helped me appreciate the improvement and savor it and rejoice in it.

You'll need to recover more than once.  While that recovery may not be for the same illness, our bodies encounter more than one sickness and we confront more than one type of challenge, weakness, or hardship in our lifetimes.  Thankfully, its natural to be sick and brought low multiple times--and it just leaves you stronger and more resilient for whatever lies ahead.  

Letting others know helps.  Others care about you and I feel like they really show it when you share with them that you are not well and in need of help.  They may not know exactly how to do so, but I feel like witnessing others' earnest desire to and efforts to help really made me feel secure and taken care of, even when I still felt really not well.

Being sick helps you appreciate being healthy all the more.  I have a lot more wonder and gratitude about my body and cells and rest and good food and a whole bunch of other things now that I have been restored to health.  Its pretty awesome the way that our body responds when we call upon it to exert or rest or do anything really.  And our mind and heart and spirit are the same way--responding to our choices and decisions to act, albeit a little harder to direct or guide than our physical body.

I feel like through being sick, I realized just how much of a gift being well is and how beautiful and good it is to be whole.  It is really a gift.

recovery |riˈkəvərē|

noun

1 a return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength

2 the action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost

Return

Hallo all.  So I returned from my mission in Tokyo Japan a little over a month ago and am transitioning to not being a full-time missionary.

Nakamoto san's baptism and Sister Crane 

Li Bing  

Dear friends in Koiwa

While the jet-lag has worn off, the suitcases have been mostly unpacked, photos and stories shared, homecoming talks given, and long-time-no-see people have been greeted, I feel like I'm still not really caught up with it all yet.  You know how when you return something to a store its assumed that the item has been unaltered and you are simply returning it as is, without anything changed?  I guess I thought that is what I would be doing as I ended my mission, but found instead that I had changed much during my mission (and I am SO grateful that I did) but the changes didn't fully manifest themselves until I came in contact full force with the environment that I had before I left.  And while those changes are amusing at times, sometimes I find myself bewildered, and just really uncertain.  Its like I expected to go back and found a one-way sign instead.

And rather than just taking it in stride and having an adventurous blast of things, I get hesitant, sweaty-palmed, and sick-stomached, tied up in knots about what to do next.  I panic, to put it simply, but I feel like I try to mask that panic with feeble smiles, comments to brush off concern, and brainstorm to the point of over thinking.  For it just wouldn't do to have others know that I didn't know exactly what I was doing.  Ha.

Fortunately, there is One who knows all this and waits patiently for me to come asking for help--or rather finally accepting and acting on His invitation to come.  I am glad that He doesn't change and will help anyone who seeks Him with questions of what to do in this one way life.  It is beautiful.  It reminds me of a poem that I have loved for a long time.  

" 'Come to the edge', He said. 
'We are afraid', we said 
'Come to the edge" He said. 
And we came. And He pushed us... 
And we flew."
Guillaume Apollinaire

OK then.  To the edge I can come.  It might take a while, but I know that I can trust Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd who calls His sheep by name.  This whole thing reminds me of something my mission president shared with us and made our mission scripture.  D&C 128:22 "Brethren, shall we not go on in so great a cause? Go forward and not backward. Courage, brethren; and on, on to the victory! Let your hearts rejoice, and be exceedingly glad."   Rather than turn back like I mistakenly thought I would-I am so glad to move forward with this one way life, seeking to have courage and love and joy.  Is it not good?