Put it on the back burner

So I almost took a job this summer where I would have been living in the forests of Washington, working with the forest service, getting experience for my future, and getting in shape. It sounded perfect. The drawback: I'd be working the whole summer and wouldn't be able to go to church for about three months. The crazy thing is I really considered it. I did the phone interview, basically had the job if I wanted it, and I seriously thought it out and considered the pros and cons...the guy said people who are religious just have to "put it on the back burner" for a couple of months. All right, I thought. My faith is pretty strong, and gets stronger when I'm out in nature.

And then I realized what he'd said. Put it on the back burner? What is that? Is that something I was really willing to do? Did I have such little testimony and commitment? It suddenly seemed very clear and I knew I couldn't take that job. Instead I went back to a prior place of employment, where I only have to miss church every other Sunday. Not ideal, but do-able for a short period of time. So I started last week and spent my first week back out in the desert, camping and hiking and learning new things about myself. And I realized very early on that I have, in fact, put my faith on the back burner, not from necessity, just from life and where I'm at right now. I don't really know what to do. I'm a little worried, a little shocked, and mostly apathetic. I found myself doing and saying things out there that I wouldn't have dreamed of before. And I listened as other LDS people would talk about their faith, and I think I scorned them slightly. Very well and good, for you. But does it really mean anything to you? I know it does, yet for some reason I can't make it mean anything to me.

It's still there. I read a book, and I feel it. I want to do better. But then you know what? I don't. I don't do better. And I'm sick of the inconsistency, sick of the wishy-washy back and forth game that I'm playing right now. How many times can I recommit? How many times can I pledge that I really mean it, that I'm going to do better, that I'll prove myself...and then go out and do the same damn things over again? I guess I'm really into a sort of "do what you feel" mode, and I don't really feel like forcing things. The problem is I don't feel like praying, and I don't feel like reading scriptures, and every time I do, I feel the Spirit, I feel it's right. But I'm tired. And the effort to do those things is slowly eluding me more and more. A lot of times you have to hit bottom to start coming back up...I don't want that to happen. I don't want to do that to myself willingly, when enough things come along and knock me down anyway. But I have been knocked down, and I've tried to pick myself up, and it's not happening somehow.

So I'm just whining. Complaining, like I normally do, without really wanting a solution. Getting it out where no one can try to offer me advice or try to "fix" me. I've gotten to a point I never thought I would, and I think I know how to get away from this point if I'd just try. But I've been trying, and I can't take these half-assed attempts anymore. What's the point? That's the problem, I've lost sight of the point of it all. But not really. I know. I'm just tired, I'm so damn tired. I see in others the example of who I want to be, and somehow I just drift further and further away. I don't want to feel bad, I don't want to be reminded of how bad I am, how much I have to feel sorry for. I can't pretend. I'm not a rock. People call me a rock, and I'm not. I'm mush, I'm weak, I'm not asking for help, I don't even know what I need. I guess I'm just saying please forgive me.

Disappointment

I think one of the things I hate the most is disappointment. I don't like to be disappointed myself, but I hate even more when other people are. Even about the stupidest, littlest things. I remember one time I went to the zoo for a field trip in school, and I had this thought to get something responsible for a souvenir. I decided to get a hair tie, a yellow one with this little thing on top. I thought my mom would be so proud of me. I couldn't wait to take it home and show her what I'd gotten, and how good I had been to get a hair tie. I can't even fathom now how this was so important to me then. I just remember bringing it home, and showing my mom, and her saying it was all ruined and stretched out. I remembered deliberately picking that hair tie because I thought it was bigger and could hold all of my hair in it better. She couldn't possibly understand how crushed I was that she didn't think it was wonderful...she just said cruelly how it would have been wonderful if I hadn't picked the one that was streched out.

I remember my little brother bothering me so badly; he was so selfish and stupid...(we didn't get along very well when we were younger), and every year at Christmas he would always seem disappointed at the presents he got, like they weren't enough or why hadn't he gotten what my older brother had? And I remember feeling so angry at him, this painful anger that I never even realized until right now was painful because I hated seeing him disappointed, despite how much we didn't get along. Why couldn't he just be happy with what he got? And even worse was my parents, who wanted to make him happy and had gotten him so much, and all they wanted was to see some gratitude. It makes me cringe a little inside even now to think of them.

It happens so often. Birthday party let downs, people you think are your friends turning out to betray you or your family, fun-planned weekends that turn into a fighting, frustrating mess, plans not working out, but mostly it hurts when I see others wanting something so much-wanting to impress someone, wanting someone else to notice something they've done, and being rejected, being ignored. Wanting someone to care and finding out they don't. No wonder I've tried to make it my motto not to expect anything, but just accept what happens. For some stupid reason I'm overly sensitive to disappointment.

For example. My dad bought me a camera for my birthday. Great, right? I need a camera, I've been trying to work out getting one, and here it is, an unexpected birthday present. But my dad, like always, has gone overboard, and instead of getting me a tiny, respectable camera that's good enough and will be easily carried, he gets me this honker of a machine that he doesn't think is too big and that does all these things I'll never learn how to do, and it came with a free photo printer that is mine as well. He's so excited about it, and my mom is there telling me I can trade it in for a little one like hers if I want, and my dad tells me I can too, but look at this cool thing, and all these other things my camera can do, and I know he's disappointed that I don't want it. It's almost like a battle between my mom and dad. But really just him wanting to do as much as he can for his little girl, and I feel sick to refuse him. So I just stare in disbelief at the camera and pretend I'm just in shock that they got me one at all, but I'm sure he realizes I'm not as excited as I should be. See the ridiculousness? But it happens all the time. I can't even count the number of times I've gone out to eat when I wasn't hungry or gotten ice cream or played basketball or tennis or any number of other things with my dad just because I knew he wanted to and I couldn't disappoint him. I've stopped a little now; I realize I kinda hate basketball right now and I won't shoot hoops with him, and when I give in and say I will he's all upset and won't do it because he can tell I don't want to. and I understand. I hate doing things with people if they don't want to. I get upset at people when they don't want to do what I want to do. It's so stupid.

I hate disappointing people. That's when I wish I could just live on my own and have no one ever depend on me or want to do anything with me. And I don't want to depend on anyone else, cause they always let me down too, or don't want to do exactly what I do, or don't think exactly the same way as me. Why does it matter?

Giving Homeless A Try

Despite my desire to have a home and feel rooted, this summer looks like it will find me homeless for about half of it. I'm actually excited and looking forward to the things I can learn from this new perspective. So last weekend was my first shot at not having a home, and I guess I found there are good and bad aspects to it, as with most things.


I drove into Provo Saturday night around 7 PM, and had no idea where to go or what to do. All I knew was that I needed a shower. Turns out my trusty car, a.k.a. Horn Powder, does not have a trusty AC system. So I texted a friend and asked what her plans were for the evening. "Not much" she said, and asked if I had any good ideas. "A shower sounds nice," I responded. This was awkward. I don't like people thinking I'm using them, any more than I like actually using them. I did want to hang out with the girl, just wanted a shower first. She very graciously let me use hers, and then we had a fun night watching a movie and eating cold stone ice cream. *Side note* why do I keep going there when I'm against it by principle? It's way overpriced and not really worth it. But then again, it's so good!


Anyway, I spent the night on her couch, then snuck off in the morning to attend church with another friend in my old ward. So wonderful, seeing old friends, promising to call people and hang out...will I honestly do it? I don't know. But its somewhat liberating to know that if I don't want to, I just won't ever see them again, and that's fine. If I do want to, I'll just go to church or something. After church I went to a park, pulled out a blanket, a ton of books, and my phone, and settled in for a great afternoon spent outside, observing others and feeling so transparent. Whenever I'm gone from Provo for a while, the shock of coming back is rather harsh. The park was wonderful because weird people go there, cool people, boys with mohawks at a family picnic, girls with dreads and tank tops. I felt so much more comfortable with these people. I called a ton of people I never talk to because I always have something to do and no time for phone calls, then just laid there for a while until another friend called and I went to see her. It's great. I get to visit people, they generally feed me- under the false impression that I'm starving in my homelessness-then I leave them and go to a park in the downtime. I've never spent so much time in parks, and I really like it. Somehow, from my homeless position, I don't even think about what I must look like or what people are thinking of me, a poor lonely girl sitting alone at a park watching others. Its' amusing really.


So that night I really just wanted to be alone. I'd spent two weeks living on other peoples' timetable and was feeling the need to be independent for a while. I thought of all the friends' I could call that had offered me a place to stay, and instead headed up a canyon at sunset, realizing that though necessity had driven me to it, I really do come to the wilderness for help, for answers, for solace. The beauty calms me, and things somehow become clearer, or less important. The perspective changes. So the answer did not come by way of a place to stay that night, but somehow it didn't matter. I drove back down the mountain, looking for a quiet place I could sit for a while and think. I found a cozy niche and laid out my blanket, again with books and notebook in hand. I read from the Bible, then just sat and looked at the one star that shone in the slowly darkening sky. I listened to the noises and felt even more liberated at my ability to be alone, without worrying, and to connect with myself, to feel alive. As the darkness deepened I had my first real talk with God in months, and I was humbled to find He stills loves me, still waits to hear from me, no matter how stupid I am or how long I take to find Him.


We had a good talk, a long talk, and then I realized that I really did need to find a place for the night. So I headed to another spot, intent on sleeping in the back of my car, only to find a couple people parked there with a dead battery. Luckily I had jumper cables and we got them on their way...helpful for them, and for me, because I didn't really want anyone to know I was sleeping there in my car. I got my "bed" ready, and as I snuggled into the back seat of my car I realized, yet again, that I just don't sleep well in cars, although I was more comfortable than I expected. I also realized how happy I am to have discovered how little I mean to others. Last time I spent the night in my car I was so paranoid someone would see me, or I'd get in trouble, or something terrible would happen. While those are possibilities, I understand that no one really cares about a lone car, or thinks to look inside, and if they did look in and see someone curled up on the back seat, they probably wouldn't think much of it. It's wonderful!


Although perhaps the three stranded people with a dead car battery did care that I was there to help them. And so do I; interesting that the last time I slept there it was my car that had died and someone else that helped me. So I guess it went full circle.


Well I got through the night, and then spent the first half of the next day hiking up an area I know fairly well, only to find a wonderful surprise a bit further along then I've ever gone. How have I never found this place? An hours hike and there I was, sitting on a ledge that overlooked a rushing mountain stream, curving down through rocks and grass, surrounded by pine trees and overlooked by a snowy mountain peak in the background. I was surrounded by mountains, birds were singing all around me, a squirrel actually charged me unaware of my presence, and the sun warmed me after the sweaty chill of hiking and then not. One hour away. What other treasures await me this summer? I sat and read and took a nap and thought again how glad I was that I was the only person there.


The rest of the day was spent in mundane errands and such, but as I had no where to be rushing home to, I didn't seem to mind as much as usual. I went to the computer lab on campus and checked email and spent an hour on the computer without feeling guilty or antsy about wasted time. Then I met up with friends for FHE and dinner and another wonderful night on a couch. Up in the morning on my own time, finished a couple more things I had to do, then I set off for home and a couple visits on the way, with no time constraints at all. Well, that part is due to the fact that I have no job or responsibility at all for a month, which will end when I start working, but then again not entirely. I'm either at work with nothing else to do but work, or I'm off work with nothing to do but play. So really, I think I'm going to enjoy this summer. The big downfall is going to be a shower whenever I need it, because it is a bit odd to ask people to use their shower, but perhaps I can find an obliging river or something...

I am, most of all, excited at the opportunity I'll have this summer for new glimpses into myself. I really feel that something exciting is coming, or at least that I'm going to make something exciting happen. I guess we'll see.

Random Thoughts

I really like the sound of a train at night. It's comforting to me somehow. I remember when I was little there was a train somewhere near my house, and sometime early in the morning I would hear it as it drove past. What is it trains do? They don't honk their horns. It's not a whistle. What is that sound called? I forget. Anyway, I would hear that sound, and I'd look out my bedroom window trying to see where the train was. I couldn't see the train, but in my mind's eye I can see the view as it was so long ago; the backyard with its protecting ring of trees, the curve in the road that was part of neighborhood behind us, my best friends' house. I like the memory.

Then I remember when I lived on the coast of the Adriatic Sea, next to a port where the cruise ships would come at night. We would watch the ships sail away in the morning, and listen to them honking their horns (?that so doesn't sound right! ) at night as we were going to sleep. Hmm.

So recently I've noticed a train that passes through sometime at night, and I enjoy the feelings and memories it brings with it. Trains. Who knew?

7 is my favorite number. In church the other day I heard it means "wholeness" or "completeness." It could have been one of those made up meanings a lot of things seem to have in church somtetimes, but I still like it. 3 has some meaning too, I think, and that's my other favorite number. Besides, of course, 21, which is by far the best number ever.

I also heard that my name mean's "goddess of the moon." I'll take it.

I walked home from school the other day under a beautiful sky. There were clouds in the distance that hinted of rain, but they were far away. There were fluffy clouds to my right, and overhead blue skies. I found it interesting when rain began to fall and I started getting wet. It seemed perfectly fitting of the spring day, but a little unorthodox from the cloudless part of sky I was traveling under. So the realization came to me: you don't need clouds to have rain.

It seemed meaningful.

My Special Tribute

Little things make a difference. That's the lesson I learned today. Two weeks ago to the day I wrote a letter to my grandparents, just to tell them what I admired about them and how much I love them. Mostly I had to write it because I never seem to tell them when I'm around them. The truth is I don't enjoy being around them very much. You know how it is, slow, boring conversation when you'd rather be watching T.V. or relaxing at home. To be honest I avoid them whenever I come home because I don't want to sacrifice the time. Wow that sounds horrible. All the same, I do respect them and love them, and am much better expressing that in writing. So I sent a letter and forgot about it.

This morning I gave them a call and asked if they were going to church, thinking if I went with them on this trip home, I'd see them without actually having to talk to them all that much. They were delighted, and turned it into inspiration because they haven't been going to church for a while and this was the push they needed. Well that's neat, and it also gave me someone to go to church with. So there we were, sitting in fast and testimony meeting as just about every kid in primary got up to bear their testimonies, when the thought popped into my head how it would mean so much to my grandparents if I bore my testimony. I dismissed the thought however, and smiled happily as one kid after another "knew the church was true and loved their families." But when the tides of testimony bearing kids slowed and long pauses came between speakers, I went into missionary mode and started wondering what I could talk about if I got up. Well it's all downhill once that thought process gets started, and I knew I would eventually go. I did, and I rambled unfeelingly about this and that, then sat down with a feeling of incredulity and slight embarrassment that I'd done it. Grandpa squeezed my hand and grandma gave me a hug, so I knew that to them, at least, I was still a hero. Well, even more of a hero, turns out.

Because then Grandpa got up, and I guess I just wasn't prepared for what was coming. Have you ever had a testimony born about you? It's an odd feeling. I understand why I'm famous in this small town-I've got a couple of men over the age of 50 that really love me and they tell everyone about it. Well, my grandpa got up to the pulpit and testified of how great I am, how grateful he is that I'm in his life (very nice), how he loves all his grand kids but I'm just really special, and even told how when I got home from my mission everyone wanted me to speak in church and some parents actually called for their sons wondering if they could set us up. It was a wonderful testimony. How do you respond to that? I had everyone in the audience turning to look at me, smiling at me; oh my gosh, it was amazing. I've never been so uncomfortable. But it meant a lot to me too.

We went back to their house, and though I thought it would be nice to talk with them for a bit, I vowed not to get sucked in for too long. I really did enjoy talking to them. They told me some things about their past, told some stories, told about ranching and how that was going. Then they started talking about the letter I sent them. For nigh unto half an hour they told me how much it meant to them, tears involved, how it was perhaps the nicest letter they've ever gotten and my grandpa even confided in me that he wanted me to read that letter on his big, last day...at his funeral. Wow. There was a lot more talking, I stayed about an hour longer than I meant to and I was ready to go when I finally made it out. But you know, I really was touched. I don't know what I've done to impress these people so much, but its nice to know that I do mean so much to them. And that something so simple as a little letter can impact them for months.

I just had to write about this because it's the only thing that got me through the whole day-thinking about explaining it and yes, mocking it slightly. It's so hilarious, in a way. But also so sweet and touching. It just shows that with a little effort on our part, we can make a huge difference in the lives of others. So the moral of the story is: write your grandparents! you have no idea how much it will mean to them.

My Deepest Desire

So I finally found it. About a year ago I asked myself a question, and I hadn't found the answer until somewhere in the past month, when I finally realized how simple and straightforward everything was. I asked myself what it is that I really want in life; what I would do if I could do anything, or what I want to have more than anything else. I tried being both selfish and unselfish, but for a long time was unable to think of anything I wanted so badly that I could claim it was my deepest desire. I wondered if I was just too casual in life-not really fighting for anything or trying to get anything out of life. What, I wondered, am I fighting for? What am I seeking? I really didn't know.

There are lots of things I want. I have lists of material things I hope to have some day (just so I don't forget); I have goals to help me achieve all those future plans of mine, but to what end? Why do I want to be married, have a family, help people in need, make a difference in the world...what's the point?

I don't know how or when the answer came to me, and it's not really that complex or even unusual. Actually, I think this is the basic, instinctive desire of just about everyone, or at least all the people I know. The purpose behind all of my actions, and my deepest desire, is peace.

Well that's a shocker. So anticlimactic. Isn't that the infamous beauty pageant answer for what the girls want most:"world peace"? So it's true then. Peace is the motivating factor; peace is the hoped-for end result. There a couple of manifestations of peace. I want, first and foremost, inner peace-peace with myself. That sounds selfish, and probably is, but after all, I am the most important person in my life. In a talk in church a couple weeks ago, a really neat point was made. The speaker said that there are over 6 billion people on the earth, and there are 6 billion different worlds. We each live in our own worlds, and what I see is just a product of what I want to see.

I want to be happy with what I see. I want to live without regrets. I don't want to fail to act on impulses because I'm scared, and miss out on what life has to offer. More importantly, I don't want to go against what I know is right and feel that regret, that self-loathing that comes from falling short of my potential. I've seen enough of the tempting substitutes for happiness, and felt enough of the pain that comes with them, to know that down those paths lie only sorrow and pain. I really want to do what's right, corny as it may sound, because when I do, when I align myself with God and feel His acceptance and approval of my life- then I feel the greatest peace I've found on earth. Nothing can top that. Why I constantly fight against that peace, I don't know. But when I can trust in the Lord and accept whatever He sends my way, I find strength and happiness no matter what's happening around me. Then I don't worry about the future; I feel no anxiety for events in my life or things not working out the way I want them to. "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you." That's the beauty of the gospel.

I want peace for my family. I want to know that they're okay, that they're happy. Why can't they be happy? There is so much confusion, heartbreak, disappointment. I love them so much, and I try to help. I try to be strong for them, always happy, words of encouragement. I "preach" to them about following their dreams and not being afraid to seize the day...things I think could help them be happy. That's all I can say to them; the unfaltering source of peace that I know, the peace and the purpose that only God can bring, somehow I can't talk to them about that. Yet it's the only thing in my mind that makes any of this worth it. I can't force that on them, and it kills me sometimes to hear their struggles and not have anything to say; to feel the despair and hear the questions about why certain things happen, and not be able to explain that, to me, the question of "why" is unanswerable and, in the end, irrelevant. I don't understand the "why" to a lot of things, but somehow I've found this ultimate source of peace that says why doesn't matter, if I can just get some help with the how of dealing with it. Once again, my source of peace is through the Savior and the knowledge that God loves my family as much as I do, and will help them just as He's helped me.

I also want world peace. *round of applause* I really do. When I feel these moments of true joy and happiness and peace (I wish I had a synonym for peace because I realize I've written it about 100 times), I have so much desire to share that with others. I want to help them overcome the things I've overcome. I want people to know of the goodness that is in life. And yet...there is so much badness, and I've never tasted of that. I don't know how to combat the horrible things people have gone through; my puny experiences pale in comparison to the sufferings of the world, and I don't know how to attempt to heal the pain that exists. But I want to. When I think of people who grow up with nothing; who suffer every day of their lives from lack of food or water or love; who live each day, fighting for survival while at the same time wanting nothing more than to die; I know I have to do something. I've been given so much, and somehow I should be able to take that and give a little back. While I have no idea what to do with my life, this gives me direction- knowing that somehow, whatever I do, my career needs to focus on one of these needs.

So it's not that I can envision a world of perfect peace and harmony stemming from anything I do. I just finally understand that all of my actions have at the core this idea of peace: peace with myself, with the people around me, with whatever part of humanity and life that falls into my little world-bubble. Seeking this has helped me see times when I fight against that peace, when I do things that bring frustration, anger, blame, and animosity towards others. I feel these bad things, and I realize I've gotten off track. At a fireside this amazing woman taught that pain is important because it tells us that something that we're doing is bad. If we bang our head against a wall, it hurts-thus we know to stop banging our head against the wall. I've tried to apply that to life and found it pretty true. When I'm in pain, usually there's some stupid thing I'm doing..more often than not just a silly thought process that pulls me down, and I need to start over again to get back up again.

The return to the root is peace.

Peace:to accept what must be,

to know what endures.

In that knowledge is wisdom.

Without it, ruin, disorder.

~Tao Te Ching

I'm not a Wanderer

I just got back from an amazing run on the rain-soaked streets of Provo and I feel great. Today was a beautiful day and the night was no exception. There’s a smell that comes with rain that’s so invigorating. I felt invigorated, at least, enough to be out a lot longer than I had planned. And in that time I got to thinking. There’s a lot of uncertainty ahead; a lot of -I don’t have a clue where I’ll be in two months and that’s slightly frightening. I have all these plans, and it’s coming down to the time when I have to decide one way or the other.

Well, tonight as I was walking around to cool down, I thought about some of these plans. I thought of Alaska; of how two people have called me about a job there and I still haven’t called them back. I want to go. It’s been a goal of mine for years now, to live in Alaska for a while and check out the wilderness. What better time than now? That’s what I keep telling myself to try to outweigh the regret I feel about things I’ll miss out on if I go. My best friend having her first baby; a real family reunion with people I haven’t seen in years and other family members I’m just starting to get to know; a lot of new friends that would be really awesome to have around this summer; and anything else that goes on that I’ll be too far away to even hear about…so many things. While these thoughts twirled around in my head, I reasoned with myself that there will always be things to miss out on. But I can’t not live my life, right? Then I started thinking about the Peace Corps, and how I want to join that in 6 months. That’s a huge commitment; a whole lot of missing out on things and not being a part of people’s lives. If I can’t even decide about Alaska, how can I leave for two years? But in those two years I’ll be shaping my life. It is a dilemma.

So while I thought about this, and felt the familiar rain softly fall around me, this wonderfully obvious realization spread through me.

I am not a wanderer.

I like feeling like I belong. That’s what I want. I have all these great ideas of traveling; I feel inspired by that Bob Seger song, and especially the lines

“Stood on a mountain top staring out at the great divide. I could go east I could go west it was all up to me to decide. Then I saw a young hawk flying and my soul began to rise. And pretty soon my heart was singing-Roll, roll me away wont you roll me away tonight. Gotta keep rollin gotta keep riding till I finally find whats right. And as the sunset faded I spoke to the faintest first star light next time, next time I'll get it right”

I love that. I really do. I am at a cross-road; my life is in my hands, and I can do anything with it. That’s so incredible. And daunting. And while I do dream big dreams, and plan big plans, I’m much more of a dreamer than an acter, and I think that all I really want is a home, with people that love me and things that are familiar. I want to belong somewhere. I’m getting to know Provo on a much deeper level than I have before, and I love it. But Provo’s not home and never could be. The problem is - no where is home. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. And maybe this is my wandering time, where I drift along, trying out new places until I find something that’s right. But if there were ever a time when I wished I had someone I trusted unquestionably with my future, that I could ask exactly what I should do with myself and where I should go, it would be now. Not that now is a particularly hard time to decide, or I’m faced with anything out of the ordinary in life’s unending quest for surety and confirmation. It’s just that right now I have decisions to make, and I’m too lazy and indecisive to make them.

At least it’s somehow comforting to come to this definition of myself, that I don’t want to wander my whole life; that I do want a place that claims me.

Sometime I'll get it right.