The Plea of an Unrighteous Man

There has been a topic that has presented itself in my life numerous times as of late, almost on a daily basis. It is the controversial topic of marriage, courtship, girls and love.   It seems the society in which I live has an obsession with marriage and courtship. In fact, if you are not currently seeking a spouse with all diligence you are doing something wrong because that is the single most important attribute of your current life. I feel there are erroneous beliefs being perpetuated from that statement.  True happiness comes only through marriage and singleness is a disease that needs healing being among the erroneous beliefs.  True happiness comes from within oneself, not from a spouse.  If we hearken back to our days of Elementary Algebra and remember  basic equations like:
                                                         x + 2 = 3       or       y + 5 = 15
 from these equations we learn a great truth. Equations are easier to solve when there is only one variable. Now if we move on to Intermediate Algebra we solve equations like this:
                                             6x + y = 24               or              3x + 2y = 30
                                              x + 2y = 18                                 x + 5y = 20
Equations with more than one unknown are more difficult to solve. When is it ever a good idea to add in another variable to one's life when you are having trouble solving your own equation with one variable?
Jesus, who is my example in all things, was single for at least the first thirty years of his life, and then it is still under debate if he ever was married. I am confident He lived a happy and fulfilled life despite his questionable marital status.  Marriage should not be the indicator of living a happy, fulfilled and successful life. If that were true then Susan B. Anthony, Mother Teresa, Henry David Thoreau and Joan of Arc would have lived unhappy, unfulfilled and unsuccessful lives.  Circumstances should not indicate happiness.

It may appear that I have a personal vendetta against marriage, courtship, girls and love.  I do not. I have experienced the sweet fruits of all but one of those on more than one occasion. It was wonderful. I loved knowing that there was one person that you could always run to when life was scary, one person whom you rushed home to share your happy news with, one person that filled you with so much love it made the angels jealous, one person who inspired you to be more than you realized you could be, one person whom you trusted absolutely or one person who knew exactly what to do to calm and comfort you even when you didn't want to be.  This is love. Love is of God. The Bible teaches, "God is Love." (1 John 4:8).  Let's go back to math class one more time. Remember the day when your teacher told you this equation:

 A = B = C   so   A = C

If you were like me you had no idea this could be used outside of the world of numbers, but it certainly can. For example, if we were to take God and make him 'A', then take one if His attributes and label it 'B' it would have to equal 'C' or love. God = Perfection = Love, God = Truth = Love, God = Justice = Love, God = Mercy = Love, God = Glory = Love, etc.  This love cannot be rushed, it cannot be forced, it cannot be contrived. It is organic. Trying to force love to grow is like trying to make a bean sprout before its appointed time. It will blossom when it is ready and it will be beautiful. It might be awhile, but it will happen when it is supposed to.

Consider this the plea of an unrighteous man who knows that one day he will find love in its purest and most beautiful form, but until that day please don't try and convince me that I am a lesser person because I am not actively seeking marriage. 

Roses Can Bloom Amidst Thorns, But Not In Darkness

Two things that everyone must know about me. First, I hate the cold. Second, I have a semi-chronic condition of being cold all the time.  I feel my situation is a cruelty handed to me by none other than the Fates. Now with most of life's cruelties we have two options. First, we can complain about our situation and hope that one day the Fates' hearts will soften from their stony enclave hidden inside their chest thereby removing this cruelty from our lives...Or, the second option is that we can work in spite of our cruelty, our thorn in the flesh, and bloom as a rose would, amidst the thorns.

I have recently learned a profound lesson from my seemingly small cruelty of being cold. It happened on a beautiful Saturday. I had gotten up and finished all of my schoolwork by mid-morning and was looking forward to spending the rest of the day doing my heart's desire. Unfortunately, my thorn was going to stand in the way of that. You see the temperature in my apartment was around 53 degrees...much to cold for a house plant like myself. My nose had started to form icicles on its end and my fingers and toes looked as if I had a family of Smurfs living on them. I sat complaining about the temperature while huddled under my blanket knowing that eventually I would be accused of smoking due to my frozen exhalations.  

All of a sudden an idea, no, an inspiration came to me that enabled me to pluck the thorn from my flesh for a time. I threw off my blanket, took off my shoes and socks, picked my blanket back up and marched out my front door to greet the 75 degree sunshine. I laid my blanket on the lawn plopped right on top of said blanket and started to bask in the light and warmth provided by the sun. It didn't take long for me to thaw and then fall into a blissful nap. I awoke to the sounds of birds singing merrily and cars passing me.  As I lay on my blanket I realized that for the first time in since I had moved back I was actually warm, even borderline hot. It felt so comforting to simply lay in the sunshine and be warm.

I looked back at my house and saw a lonely cold shell of brick and it seemed to me a shroud against light and warmth. How could I stay in a place like that, I thought to myself. A place so devoid of color, light, or warmth. More importantly, how had I not noticed it before? Had I been wrapped in its darkness so completely that I thought it was light? How could that happen (and I don't mean to sound pompous, but I probably do) especially to me? I have a very healthy opinion of myself and love to think that I rival Mary Poppins at being practically perfect in every way (I am completely joking, I know Mary Poppins is way out of my league). Anyway, this course of thought lead me to a much deeper concept.

How many of us are in the cold darkness of ignorance freezing and cursing, pleading for someone to pull us into the light and warmth of truth?

To quote the finale of a famous musical that is based on Victor Hugo's novel of unparalleled beauty, Les Mierables:

Do you hear the people sing,
Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing toward the light 

For the wretched of the earth
There is a flame that never dies
Even the darkest night will end
And the sun will rise.

These lines evoke an image in my mind's eye of people dressed only in rags that are tattered and torn, their hair is matted against their head from their perspiration, they are on the ground clawing their way forward to the light, giving everything they have to this supreme effort to cast off the darkness. I look into their eyes, the windows of their soul, and see a resolution that is unbreakable; they seem to know that if they stay in the darkness any longer they will shrivel and die. We can see in nature this same determination, plants will grow in whatever way possible to get light. If they need to grow horizontally for a while they will. If they need to grow upside down to find light they will. Why? Because without light they will die. We are no different.

We can bloom in spite of our thorns. We can even bloom so well that our thorns become accents of beauty and character. The road of blooming is perhaps long with precipices that need crossing and mountains that need scaling, rivers that need fording and oceans that need sailing. Despite all of fates' thorns we can bloom beautifully. Thorns never were the obstacle. The obstacle lies in casting out darkness and moving toward light.

Our thorns have been given to us by fate; we cannot change them. Our only choice is to live in the light of truth or die in the darkness of ignorance. When will we desire light with the same ferocity as, "the wretched of the earth"? When will we crawl in rags as starving destitutes toward the light? When will we throw off our blanket and leave the shroud of darkness behind us and embrace the world of light and truth and warmth? I hope it is a question of "when" and not "if" and I hope the answer the answer is now.

Roses can bloom amidst thorns, but not in darkness.

 

The thorn photo is compliments of Erik Noeske.

Serendipity: Remember this day...

I was given a fortune from a fortune cookie three months ago this very day that said, "Remember this day three months from now. Good things are in store." Well that was 13 June, 2011 and now three months exactly have passed. I am not normally one to believe in fortune cookies, but this one has already proven itself, for it was given to me by someone very dear to me; I believe that Anne of Green Gables fame would say, "A bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know a kindred spirit to whom [one] can confide [their] inmost soul." She got the fortune cookie three months exactly before I returned home from Atlanta, Georgia after serving a two-year LDS mission. She gave it to me exactly nine months and four days after she received it initially, which makes it one year and four days since she received it...if my calculations are correct.

Perhaps on this thirteenth day of September I will meet another kindred spirit. Or perhaps the fortune cookie knew that today I have a math test that I definitely could use some extra luck. Or perhaps the fortune will lend me some needed leniency on a research paper I submitted less than an hour before the midnight deadline tonight...procrastination is bad. I don't want to get my hopes up only to have them crushed by the reality of normal day-to-day living, and I don't want to interrupt the serendipity of the cosmological events set to transpire this day. But, if it isn't too much to ask, I would love to have an outpouring of serendipitous circumstances today. Not for me, of course, but for the sake of the integrity of this solitary fortune cookie; who has no voice to speak for himself. Pretty, pretty, please with a cherry on top let it happen for me...I mean the fortune cookie.

Death: The Journey of a Lifetime

After much thought and deliberation. I have decided that I would post something related to that infamous day ten years ago; September 11, 2001. I hesitated because I knew that countless ceremonies were happening and I am sure there will be plenty of news sources to read or memorials to attend. There has been a music written by John Adams, "On the Transmigration of Souls" that expresses beautifully the feelings of that day. What could I add? I decided that instead of looking to the past to remember those who lost their lives I would try to portray the present and where they are now.

Emily Dickinson wrote a poem that discussed the topic of death. How she felt about it and the journey after it.

Because I could not stop for Death,

He kindly stopped for me;

The carriage held but just ourselves

And Immortality

We slowly drove he knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove

At recess; in the ring;

We passed the fields of grazing grain,

We passed the setting sun.

Or rather he passed us;

The dews grew quivering and chill,

For only gossamer my gown,

My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed

A swelling of the ground,

The roof was barely visible,

The cornice only a mound.

Since then tis' centuries, and yet each

Feels shorter than the day

I first surmised the horses' heads

Were toward eternity.

-Emily Dickinson

Ms. Dickinson describes Death as one who, "knew no haste", as civil, and kind. You could call Death a gentleman by this description. One who comes when he is necessary and opens the door of the carriage to his passengers. He is the transport between mortality and eternity. Some will pass away at an old age, others will be taken in infancy; some will lose their lives fighting in war and others as an innocent casualty of war. Death passes upon us all. It is as natural as birth. It is not something to be feared. J.R.R. Tolkien describes it as a journey on a ship when, "...the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he [Frodo] beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise." Death is not the end. Death is the beginning of something more grand than we presently can imagine.

It has been a decade since that fateful day that claimed hundreds of lives. Thousands of lives have been claimed in its aftermath. I am not suggesting that we forget them, for they have not forgotten us. I am only suggesting that we view them in their present state; a state of tranquility, of hope, and perhaps some contentment.

I Must Confess

I don't normally do this, but I confess that I had a love affair tonight.

Time slowed as I saw her. My eyes were fixed, drinking her in as if she were the sweetest wine. I saw before me Aphrodite; she was coming toward me. I knew that this was going to be a night not soon forgotten. She was saucy and fresh, but not to a fault. Her subtleties and complexity kept me wishing that this night would never end. It was as if I had fallen in love with a beautiful sonata.
We both understood that it was only for tonight. There were no obligations for the future. We didn't let that keep us from smiling and enjoying the intricacies of one another. I was as giddy as a little schoolboy who has found his first frog. It has been a long time since I felt that way. Love does funny things to a person.
She gave and gave to me until she was no more. They came and took her away; leaving me with only a taste and a memory.

There is a beautiful relationship between a man and his salad.

I went last night to a restaurant that is by far the best place I have eaten in months, maybe even years. My salad was composed of crispy lettuce leaves, fresh corn cut right off the cob, craisins, pumpkin seeds, tiny cheese crumbles, and a dressing hand-crafted by the Gods. Words cannot adequately describe the entree's we experienced. I will say though that when I sampled a vegetable from my friend's plate; I was positive that I was eating the season of Autumn. I don't how else to say it. The food was beyond words. It wasn't only the food that was outstanding, for the atmosphere in the restaurant was perfect as well. My friend Al and I, sat under a glass roof looking up at the evening sky though it wasn't necessary to look up to view the heavens for the tables were glass on the top and reflected the sky beautifully. Our waiter, no he was much more than that. Our guide, tantalized our taste buds with his extensive knowledge of every aspect of our dining experience. The entire restaurant exuded an aura of organic elegance; beauty and charm without chicanery. It was like what every restaurant wants to be when it grows up.

There is a reason why the subject of blending, forming, and combining foods is called culinary arts. It is because it is an art. Perhaps one of the most under-appreciated forms of art, but art nonetheless. People often associate the word "art" with forms such as music, poetry, sculpture, painting, or literature. It is not too often that we associate it with food. It well may be because we are used to a steady diet of big-macs and fries. Fast food fits our lifestyle. It is easy; it is adequate; it is inexpensive. How often though do we really enjoy it? I am a staunch advocate for the enjoyment of life. If I am not happy and enjoying life then something needs to happen, usually that involves a book or movie and lots of chocolate in a plethora of forms i.e. cakes, brownies, ice cream, pies, or just a classic bar of chocolate. Anyway. Life is meant to be enjoyed and food, really yummy food, is a beautiful way to enjoy it.

The Relative God(s)

I have been contemplating this post for nearly four months now. I have tried to write it several times but have been unable to express my feelings quite accurately. I must admit the title of this post can be misleading for it is not my belief that God is relative; He is absolute. The more accurate title of this post would be the The Relativity of God Throughout Humanity. I do not claim to be a philosopher or a great theologian. I am only offering my observations as a poor student of a University. And yes, I know that I am trying to swallow an elephant with this post.

In my observation there are two very broad categories of religion those that try to explain God and those that do not; e.g. Christianity and Buddhism, respectively. Since this post is about God's relativity I will not be discussing those religions that do not attempt to explain God. For those who know me, I definitely hold nothing against these religions, especially Buddhism. I will ignore these religions for the simple fact that I don't like to compare apples and oranges or try and swallow two elephants at once.

Let's compare apples to apples; Fuji's to Gala's, and Granny Smith's to Red Delicious. It will be noted that religion as with apples there are personal favorites, but that doesn't inherently make them a better apple. It only goes to support the claim of relativity of humans.

As far back as 4000 B.C. we have a record of the people that inhabited the area of Mesopotamia. These people were the Sumerians and the Akkadians. It has been estimated that they worshipped over 2000 different deities ranging from patron deities of varying cities to Gods of war, agriculture, fertility, death, etc. The facets of their life were ran by the favor of the Gods. This polytheistic pattern of appeasing the Gods continued for the next four and a half millennia with the rise and fall of multiple civilizations e.g. Greek, Egyptian, Indian, Norse, Roman, Mayan etc.

We also have a record, the Bible, of a small peculiar group of people, the Hebrews, that practiced a monotheistic religion. This record begins about 4000 BC as well. So I don't bore you with biblical history I will give an extremely brief summation. Adam, the first man, has children and about nine generations later we have Noah, the one with the Ark. In another nine generations from Noah we have Abraham. Abraham has a son Isaac; the one he was willing to sacrifice. Isaac has a son named Jacob whose name is later changed to Israel and he has twelve sons who become the twelve tribes of Israel. after Jacob/Israel dies it is 200-ish years before Moses comes on the scene and liberates the Israelites/Hebrews and takes them to the promised land. After several years in the promised land they split up into two kingdoms Israel and Judah. The kingdom of Judah is where the Jews originate. They had one God, Jehovah.

If we examine the Greek view of deity we will find an interesting correlation to their whole society. Greek deities were extremely human, they had vices and passions. They had disagreements with one another that spawned wars. Now if we think about how the Greeks viewed themselves do we not see a similar pattern. Greeks loved the concept of "humans" they thought themselves to be the best. In essence, they viewed the Gods to be like themselves.

If we look at the Hebrew religion of the Old Testament. It is filled up by a God who is anything, but human. A God who is perfect, authoritative, absolute, and in all candor, a bit of an extremist. Now looking at the people that ascribed to this philosophy another correlation can be seen. The people, as a whole, viewed themselves as absolutely and unquestionably the chosen people of God and everyone else as heathen. They viewed humanity not something to be celebrated, but something to overcome. They viewed themselves how they viewed their God.

The examples of this throughout history are vast. Unfortunately I cannot discuss them all here. I am sure though that if you were to look at other examples you would see the pattern repeat over and over.

We are no different today. There are as many varying perspectives of God as there have ever been. The different sects of Christianity, for instance, all view God differently. Some paint Him to be a God who requires praise, not obedience; and in turn all they do is praise. Others paint Him to be an ethereal spiritual mass without parts or passions that can never be fully understood; these people feel that they cannot reach an understanding of themselves. Others are unable to forgive themselves and thereby deny God's forgiveness. Some view themselves as unhappy and "going through a rough time" and therefore feel that God is unhappy with them.

In our individualistic society we all have varying beliefs of God. It is these beliefs that make Him relative to us. One day I am sure that the grey curtains of this life will roll back; the sun will shine through and our understanding of God will be complete and perfect. We will see Him as he is. Until that day though He remains to humanity, relative.

My Walk

I have no purpose in going for a walk; I have no purpose in staying home. I should be studying for my math test on Tuesday, or perhaps I should be preparing for my audition for band in two days...No I shall go for a walk.

Do I turn left or right? If I go right I take a stroll around the block I walk around a church that I have never been inside...no that won't do. If I go left I journey back to campus where I have already spent several hours today...Yes that is where I shall go.

It is quiet. It is evening, just before the sun sets. Campus is virtually empty. I walk by a girl who is sitting on the steps waiting for 'him' to arrive. We exchange polite smiles and I am on my way. I have no preference where my feet take me. I see two more people studying furtively, trying to eek out every last bit of light to study by. I pass by unnoticed. My feet turn once more to the left and now I stand in front of the Humanities building. I smile and know exactly why my feet led me here. On the fourth floor of the Humanities building is an abstract painting. I have stood there before gazing at its colors, its shapes and patterns. I have tried before to understand its purpose; the reason each brushstroke fell in its exact spot on the canvas. But today, I simply appreciate its wonder. My musings are interrupted by a professor who thinks it odd that a student wearing a lavender dress shirt, blue argyle tie, black vest, nerd glasses, and converses; who has the audacity to be sporting a faux-hawk while toting in hand Les Miserables and a journal has been standing in the same spot staring at the same painting for nearly ten minutes. My time here is spent and I am the servant to my feet once again.

My feet take me now right and I know there are only two places they want to go, but which is first...Of course, we are going in the Performing Arts building. My feet take me not to the elevator, but up the stairs until I am on the third floor. I know why I am here; I hope it is still unlocked. It is. I am outside again this time on the patio that provides a most stunning view of city, the lake beyond, and finally closes where the sun dips behind the mountains setting the sky aflame. It is an inspiring scene. Does anyone else do this? I wonder. I see the people below rushing to get to their cars. Hurrying to the next task of the day. I want to cry out to them to stop and look at the beauty of it all. Bring them up to where I am and show them a different perspective, a more grand perspective. Alas, I stay silent. I sit on the bench and my eyes catch a glimpse of a folded paper and pen. I open the paper and of course there is a music scrawled upon it, Edelweiss.

Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever.
Edelweiss, Edelweiss
Bless my homeland forever.

My feet are on the move again. This time down the sidewalk to the Fine Arts building. I have been here many times, but at this time of day all the galleries would be closed. But my feet march in that direction relentlessly. I walk in and the cleaning crew is going about their nightly routine. I make my way to the elevator and push the button labeled three. I have never been to this part of the building before. All white walls and rooms that are darkened; is this still the Fine Arts building or did I step into a mental hospital? I find my way soon enough and once more I am outdoors on a patio. There is only one chair. A chair without a back, a front or sides; only a seat. I sat hesitantly facing one direction then changed to another and another and another. I was never quite comfortable where I was facing. I finally settled on looking directly at the building I had just walked out. A man passes he doesn't see me. He passes once more and pays me no mind. My feet are all too anxious to leave this spot.

I start back home and realize there is one more stop I will be making this evening. The duck pond. I step down the stairs listening water falling on top of water and observe that I am intruding upon a private setting. Over in the far corner sit two lovers; feet dangling into the pond and hands clasped tightly, eyes locked on one another and hearts becoming one. I smile. I know. I withdraw until I am unseen by them and sit and am swept away by the sound of the fountain. Water shooting into the air thirty feet then succumbing to gravity and colliding back into the pond . I try and follow a single drop from its birth to death. I can't do it. I walk back home in silence.

I begin to type.