Gone Livin'

Ever had those weekends where long walks with friends, family phone conversations, scripture reading (nay--delving!), starlit pondering, and the quiet inspiration of a solitary sunrise make you forget all about the obligatory internet log on?

Yeah...me too.

Do They Know It?

(Guest Post by Ashley Custer)

In the past few weeks I have been shocked by the untimely deaths of two people within my circle. One was the mother of one of my childhood friends. The other was one of my professors at university and the associate dean of my department. I am simply too far away to do much for my childhood friend, but I had the opportunity to attend Alan’s funeral last week. There I not only paid my last respects to one of my favorite lecturers, but also learned more about Alan as a man. The more I heard about Alan, the more my respect for him grew. As I listened to the various tributes over the past couple of weeks, a couple of things struck me.

First, one of my professors noted that at the mini-memorial held for the department, every person who stood up spoke of Alan as a friend, not just a colleague. When I think of my relationships at the various places I have worked, I find that rather significant. How many of my colleagues have valued my friendship even more than my contribution at work? This is not to say that the workplace should be all fun and games at the expense of fulfilling my duties, of course. Yet there is something special about a person who can get the job done while building strong interpersonal ties that extend beyond the workplace.

Second, there were so many wonderful things said about Alan, about his character, his love for those around him, his talents, and his many contributions to the health field. This led me to a question that often comes at funerals: “Did he know it?” Alan struck me as a person who encouraged an environment of love and appreciation around him, so I’m sure that he had a pretty good idea of how much his associates valued him. Nevertheless, it is sadly a moot point for Alan. The real question is whether or not our family, friends, colleagues, and other associates know how much we value them? If not, why? I suspect that, while most of us are pretty decent at letting our family and close friends know how much they matter (though more certainly couldn’t hurt), we tend to fail at showing proper appreciation for those who aren’t as close to us, but are still important.

Why do we tend to hesitate or neglect to show our appreciation and love for those around us? Why do we so often wait until after they have passed on to express to others how much they meant to us instead of to the person himself when we still had time? I received the email address of my eighth grade history teacher a few months ago. I have intended to let her know I had been thinking of her and how much she blessed my life and education that year. I haven’t yet done so, even after my mother – a teacher herself – let me know that teachers simply don’t hear those things often enough. And yet, for no good reason, I have failed to take the fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to do so.

Sometimes I feel like I need to wait for an “appropriate moment” to show my appreciation, such as at a holiday or when a person has accomplished something significant. But this doesn’t really make any sense. Times where I knew, really knew, that my parents loved and valued me were often those where we would be driving to school or running errands and Mom or Dad would say, “I love you, Ashley,” or “I’m proud of you.” I hadn’t done anything special to merit such remarks. It was the very act of telling me when the comment wasn’t “deserved” or socially required that reinforced the truth so much more. Or those days when a friend would give me a compliment out of the blue, simply because they felt that way. I have treasured those sentiments that mark the daily pleasure of my friendship so much more than the ones that mark great achievements (though I certainly don’t mind those either).

Life is busy and hectic, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt me to take a few minutes here and there to let my friends and associates, both past and present, know how much I appreciate them. On the contrary, I suspect that doing so would bless my life far more than I imagine. How much brighter could I make people’s days by unexpectedly sending an email, mailing a card (oh how delightful it is to receive something other than junk and bills in the mail!), or calling them on the phone – especially when it’s from half a world away.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a long overdue email to Ms. G. to write.

"Escapism"

(Anonymous Guest Post)

Escapism, the overindulgence of creating alternate realities, has always existed.  However, as technological advances increase, accompanied by affluent spare time, we seem to create even more venues of escaping.  Our sleepwalking hallucinations are self-induced remedies to help us alleviate present pains.  In using them, we never confront the real issue at hand, but side-step it.  All this side-stepping has further perpetuated our desire to run, as our “waking pains” increase.  Coming back to reality is a difficult confrontation.

I do not believe in the prescription of medication untried by the physician.  So first, I shall further illustrate my own vampire (unsettling as it is to write about) and then discuss the lessons I learned and the growth I gained in attempting to destroy him.

I am an escape artist primarily in the region of romantic relationships.

August 6, 2007
“I cut my finger today.  Accidentally.  The blood surfaced quickly on my ring finger and oozed with each pulse.  I quickly wrapped a paper towel around it—applying pressure and elevating the wound.  It was deep. The sting lessened as I pressed the paper towel and held it tightly.  I looked at my finger—my ring finger with no ring—and wondered if there was some significance that I caught the blade on that particular finger.  The lack of a wedding band being one of my deepest cuts.  Some days it feels as if I will slowly bleed to death, my confidence in myself and men so entirely sapped of life.  Other days, I’m pulsing with enthusiasm.

"But right now, the only ring around that finger is a band aid.  Would that there were some band aid that could fix the wounded and lonely heart.  Or at least a disinfectant that could eventually help me to heal…

"My brother…mentioned that I have set a lot of high qualifications for my men.  I’m a selective receiver and universal donor.  But my sister…said I shouldn’t settle.  And I don’t intend to.  In the meantime, I hope I’m not totally drained of love, waiting and looking for the right type of guy."

Part of my pickiness derives from my own form of escapism.  I fall in love with fiction.  I fall in love with men who are not real, not present and sometimes, not even alive.  Also, I glorify previous boyfriends in my mind to such an extent that I begin to berate myself for having broken ties with some of Gods most ingenious of creations.  These visions of perfected men with Herculean qualities almost entirely overshadow those brave men who might have a chance with me if I were only to give them one.  But I’m too busy critiquing their every gesture, and analyzing their every phrase, meanwhile thinking “How un-Darcy like,” “Where’s my Gilbert Blythe?” and “You may have been the inspiration behind the curse ‘Stupify.’”

At the same time, I really do love people easily.  It’s not hard for me to make friends, to feel at home wherever my skin takes me, and to be happy with my beloved family and friendships.  But as soon as a potential suitor leers in my direction, my fault-finding magnifying-glass goes up, and then, poor soul, it’s only a matter of time before I discover he’s not what my dreams are made of.  Not even close.

There is a line in the movie Sabrina that states “Illusions are dangerous things. They have no flaws.” It took a mentor, a lot of brainstorming, and some self-realization to go through the process of combating my form of escapism. And even after that, I don’t have the audacity to say that it’s totally gone. My writing mentor asked me one day “So, have you killed Cinderella?”

“What do you mean?” I asked her, looking up from an assignment.

“You have to kill Cinderella in order to get over your escapism, and I’m really curious to hear how you do it. When you do, write me.”

“Kill Cinderella?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. She often speaks symbolically and loves to point out symbolism in literature. In this case, she was referring to my waiting for a prince charming. So I wrote her the story. Killing Cinderella was rather fun, surprisingly. Most of it dealt with the fact that the prince, in all his perfection, was quite boring. Coming to terms with that made me crave the excitement of reality, with all of its unpredictable quirks. I came to discover that really falling in love with someone who is real is like tasting a wintergreen lifesaver. Cool green freshness all around. And wintergreen lifesavers spark in the dark if you bite down hard enough. And I like trying hard things.

I don’t have a sure fire process of how to kill escapism. More of a guideline with proper ingredients. The doses and order can vary according to the individual. Keep in mind, escapism begins because the individual is trying to fill a void by using an insubstantial substance. Or in other words, he or she is solving a problem with a counterfeit solution. For example, those who lack love may seek it elsewhere in the form of food, romantic films, and NCMO’s. Any addiction you can think of falls into a category, and for the most part, the void deals with a fractured or tense relationship, or else the lack of a healthy one. This has become rather verbose, so I will sum up my escapism prescription in the following five steps.

1. Realize you are running (ask yourself how you evade the present)
2. Get Real (desire a clear and truthful outlook, pray for assistance)
3. Get it out (say what you need to say, do what you need to do)
4. Get to Work (put your energies into a proactive “escape”)
5. Get Good (hone that skill in order to share it with or help others)

An important part of this factoring is that eventually, you are improving yourself so that you can in turn share your abilities with others, or help them develop their own abilities. Escapism centers around a self-centered individual. I find it ironic that Apple products begin with “I”—I-pod, I-chat, I-phones. These toys seem to create virtual relationships. When a person is isolated, they cannot make or renew significant relationships, which perpetuates a reason to run or escape.

So what is the antidote to escapism? Love. The more I’ve studied, the more I’ve come to that same conclusion for solving life’s problems. The other answer is always drink more water. But mostly love. Think of it this way, the more you love a person, the more difficult you make it for them to desire an alternate reality. It’s that simple. And it’s easy to love. It’s just hard to love first. In all earnestness, I encourage us to be first to love and last to regret.

Nurtured with Great Care

"All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother." (Abraham Lincoln)


"Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, and to teach them to love and serve one another, observe the commandments of God, and be law-abiding citizens wherever they live....Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. " (The Family: A Proclamation to the World, 1995; italics added)


"Nurture" is a wonderful word, isn't it?  It calls to mind the careful, gentle cultivation of a loved one, a selfless willingness to sacrifice for their good, a vision of their potential and a yearning desire to help them achieve it.  


It calls to mind motherhood.  


It calls to mind the women, filled with love, who have nourished each of us "with great care, that [we] may get root, that [we] may grow up, and bring forth fruit." (Alma 32:37; scripture slightly wrested, but hopefully still doctrinally accurate) 


And within the broader principle of selfless cultivation of another person, "nurturing" can take so many small, tangible forms to "bring forth [the] fruit" of latent potential: 

• A note of encouragement hidden in a lunch sack
• An expression of belief and affection in another during times of despair
• Patient listening to thoughts and feelings that need to be expressed...again
• Giving space when space is desired: standing ready to embrace when comfort is needed
• Preparing a cup of piping hot cocoa, just because
• Baking a birthday cake
• Baking a half-birthday cake
• Baking a 3/4-birthday cake
• Folding another's bathroom towel just the way they like it
• A welcome home kiss
• A last wave from the window

How much richer would our lives become if we gave the meaningful relationships in our lives the same nurturing attention that a mother gives her child; so instinctively, so wholeheartedly, so consistently putting his welfare before her own?  How much more powerful does the phrase "I care" become when coupled with daily acts of affection and service to literally "care" for another?  How much more memorable is a tight hug than a Facebook poke?

How much more do we realize, the older we get, that we want to be like Mom?

Happy Mother's Day.

At My Inconvenience, Please.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)

"As selfishness and complaint pervert and cloud the mind, so love with its joy clears and sharpens the vision." (Helen Keller, American author, activist, lecturer)

It's all about your convenience.

"Convenience" has always been the yardstick by which we measure the utility of technology, and it's never been more personal than now.  Your iPad, your smart phone, the ads popping up on your Facebook page...they all cater to you.  Instant messaging, texting, internet browser preferences, and Microsoft Outlook's crazy integrated email/calendar/address book/to-do list that will spawn an artificial intelligence to take over the world any day now...it's all designed to make your life, your day, your agenda more convenient.

Thank heavens that sincere, interpersonal relationships are very inconvenient things!

What a blessing to have special people in our lives who seem uncannily adept at spoiling our carefully laid, self-centered life plans.  People who help us rise above our personalized, profiled, bookmarked, virtual lives by giving us opportunities to serve, to listen, to nurture, to encourage, to love.  Dear people like the husband who upends your afternoon plans with a surprise lunch visit.  The daughter who calls at odd hours really "needing to talk."  The father with the nerve to have a birthday in only two days (time to mail that card!).  

In our frenetic, mile-a-minute society, so much of the wonderful technology that molds the day-to-day rhythm of our lives seems designed to reinforce our self-centric world view while shoe-horning precious relationships into convenient corners of our consciousness.  Return a phone call?  Respond to a text?  Comment on a blog post?  Email a picture?  Reply to an E-vite (or not...)?  At your convenience, please.

With so much revolving around our convenience, we require less and less thought to maintain our increasingly tech-deep and face-time-shallow relationships.  And the lousy thing about growing thoughtless is that, by it's own definition, we don't think about it; we don't have "eyes to see." (Insert frantic warning from your Superego ["It's a trap!"] against background of your Id's diabolical laughter). 

But when we remember to put people ahead of plans, life gets far more colorful than the monochromatic doldrums of self-centered scheduling.  

Suddenly we find ourselves madly typing a college paper into the wee hours of the morning because we interrupted our schedule to support a girlfriend's dinner party.  

We set aside a lengthy to-do list to fix a tuna fish sandwich for an unexpected, but always welcome neighbor.  

We forgo the chance to tour yet another historical site (how many sepulchers are in this crazy country?!) to buy a small keepsake for a loved one at home. 

We sacrifice an hour of sleep to talk with a child on the phone...just because. 

And when our real-time, real-world, real-person relationships begin to take precedence, life becomes a little less convenient and a little more...worth living.

And a lot more wonderful!