Another day, another destiny

Tonight is again the time where I find my journal (it's a bit dusty from being hidden under the bed so long) and consider the past year. I know, I know; tonight is everyone's night to think about the last year. Perhaps I'm a bit unoriginal. Really, I make more goals during March (the month of my Birthday) than January. I do like to think about life though. You could say I'm a reflective person. There's always two parts to the reflection though; what happened in my own life and what happened on a grander scale.

My Life: graduated from college, completed my Honors, began graduate school, starting teaching at the university, attended my sister's wedding (the first woman in my family to get married!), climbed Ben Lomond, left the country (briefly, but Canada counts), moved to the west side of town, went cliff jumping...sort of, broke up with my first boyfriend, learned how to make green smoothies, tasted non-alcoholic beer (terrible stuff), busted my father's truck window with my bare hands, finally learned how to crochet successfully, ran for more than 2 minutes for the first time since elementary school, learned how to make bread, kept my first herb garden, finally took a picture I was proud of, tried dairy-free, sugar-free, fat-free, gluten-free diets to see if they worked (they didn't), tried eel for the first time, learned how to play softball, saw my adopted nephew join our family forever, began using a nalgene water bottle (yah, now I'm one of those people), opened my own eBay account, had my first operation in about 15 years, and saw the last of my freshman 5 girlfriends get engaged.

It has been a good year. Lots of growth. However, I wonder how much my own life is connected to the bigger picture: Sudan voted to become and independent state, the Tunisian government falls because of protests, President Hosni Mubarak of Egypt resigns because of protests, a giant tsunami hit Japan,
 Osama bin Laden announced dead, Kim John-il pronounced dead, NASA's space shuttle program ends with the landing of the Atlantis, and many many more events of importance.

I wasn't even paying attention for some of these events. In fact, this summer when I made friends with international students through my job was the first time I cared enough about world events to start reading past the headlines. Suddenly it mattered to me what happened in Cambodia and Iraq because I have friends who live there. I don't magically have more time to look up what is happening in the world. I don't even have television. And the world events had little or no impact on my life. I'm living a privileged lifestyle. I may joke that my grad student budget is tight and I may admit that student loans stress me out, but I realize that each breath I take is a gift. There are billions of people on this planet that I may never meet, but I have more appreciation for those that I do meet.

So, as I look toward the supposed ill-fated year of 2012 I see it with hope. I hope to do as Thomas Monson says, to live an abundant life regardless of my circumstances.

Sing Sweet Nightengale

Waiting is not my favorite activity. I must correct myself. I do enjoy waiting for sunrise after a good night's rest, for my check at the restaurant while having wonderful conversation, for the laughter of friends during a funny story, and for the feeling of warmth of a cup of cider as I relax. I do not enjoy waiting for test results, grades on my papers, or phone calls. I just about lost my mind waiting for Fridays. And sometimes, I do get a bit antsy waiting for my dreams to come true. The other day I felt just like Cinderella singing to herself, "A dream is a wish, your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." As much as I liked Cinderella as a child; I have woken up to realize that Cindella let an awful lot of opportunities pass her by. It takes three movies for Cinderella to take charge of her life. She needed a fairy godmother to make her a pretty ballgown so she could woo the prince? And in the end it wasn't her personality that won her the prince, but small feet and a helpful bunch of mousy and chattery friends. I have significantly larger feet and my friends in no way resemble woodland creatures. Neither do I have any evil relatives who would keep me from obtaining any happiness that I did find.

And I cannot be the passive woman that Cinderella was, even though I may share her dreams. I may have to wait for some things, but waiting is not a passive activity. Waiting is more than sighs and stillness. It is moving forward. It includes hope and happiness in the moment.

So as I wait for dreams to come true, I'll be a bit more Cinderella in a few ways. I will clean out the dusty corners of my mind and serve those around me with a smile and a song. I will find a new friend in need and give him or her a bit of...cheese (?). And maybe someday, "the dream that I wish will come true."

Garden Inspirations

Plants are pretty amazing. Not only can they take carbon dioxide and use it productively, they also give me delicious oxygen for my breathing pleasure. Oh and on top of that, plants can photosynthesis. The most fantastic ability (according to me at least) is that they can make me feel productive with little effort or make me feel like a failure despite my best efforts.

A few weeks ago I moved my herb garden indoors to keep if safe from an impending frosty death. Within one week each plant save one measly parsley up and died on me, leaving me feeling like a terrible human being. Also, since it was an herb garden I was frustrated because I felt oh so domestic snipping bits of rosemary for my potatoes or basil for my chicken. Writing about the experience still makes my heart heavy. What more could I have done?

Yesterday I decided that I needed plants of some kind so I can make it through the wintry month in Cache Valley with some source of clean air. Herb gardens are near impossible to come by unless it's early spring here, so I settled for the office plant section at Lowe's. Again I was surprised with the joy I felt as I gently re-potted the plants and watered them, willing them to live inside and flourish. These are not the same plants as before, but I am already gaining affection for them: the miniature roses that may just bring color to a dismal grey day, the Ficus that looks like a bonsai but hopefully isn't as fragile, and my favorite, the teenie tiny green and yellow cactus all prickly on the outside but full sweet water at its center. I need to think of some names for them. Things with names always live longer (at least, that is the hope I maintain for Matilda, the Buick who thinks her transmission is dying).

People say you should start your relationships with plants. Learn to take care of plants. Once you've accomplished that you can move on to a pet and finally, a real person. I think this is an unwise method. Let me expound. While it is true that plants take time and attention, they bear little resemblance to pets or people. Yes, you incrementally increase the attention needed to maintain the "relationship." Let's be honest though; society generally looks down on people who talk too much to their plants or pets. People, on the other hand, should communicate regularly. Added to that, plants don't ever get a chance to talk back (at least, my plants have never given me any verbal feedback), so having them teaches people to monologue instead of dialogue. Finally, once you realize how much it hurts to have a plant die, you are never going to consider a relationship with a real person! That's just setting yourself up for disaster.

No, we should definitely not base our ability to relate to people with our ability to relate to plants. I love plants. I love people. I don't like to think about my plants dying, but I still grow them. I may not be as skilled with plants as I am with people, but I keep trying. And, ready for the cheesy line? While plants may be a tasty garnish to a meal, people can fill my whole life with joy. On the other hand, plants do help me breathe better...guess both relationships matter for life.

I'll Take the Stairs, Thank You

I have begun counting how many stairs I go up and down during the course of my day. I reach 97 long before I make it to my office in the mornings and then I give up counting. Four flights later I finally reach my desk. Then, down two flights for any copies, printouts, or restroom breaks. I can only hope that my legs will become exceptionally buff this year. This morning, the walk seemed longer than usual to my first class. I was not the only one. I had one of my stellar students fall asleep for several minutes. I didn't wake him. I knew where he was coming from.

For the first time in my short teaching career, I changed a due date. My students said I was the greatest teacher ever for giving them an extra weekend to finish their papers. I wonder if I did it because I wanted that precise response or simply because I did not want to start grading yet another round of papers before I've finished the first. Either way, I have to figure out some brilliant plan for Friday's lesson now.

This week I have read several news articles that trouble me. One student was writing about how members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are cultists. Regardless of the writer's position, the article was poorly researched and had so many logical fallacies that it resembled Swiss cheese. Another was a statement supposedly from all homo sapiens saying that we are going to hold off on having children for a few years because it seems kind to the planet. Finally, there was an article that claimed pornography had some positive sides to it. I am not troubled because some think these things (it comes as no surprise). I am troubled because these ideas are becoming more common, and in places where I had previously assumed many agreed with my moral standard. Mostly, I am troubled because I wish I knew how to respond with my own view in a Christ like way, but respond nonetheless. All the academic knowledge in the world won't help someone to accept the Savior. But neither can I stand by quietly and let His doctrines by trampled underfoot so casually.

So I start a blog which no one yet reads. I wonder if I should even make it available to a wider audience because I don't want to make everything sacred to me a debate. What am I really saying today? That climbing the stairs is like following Christ. It hasn't gotten any easier yet. In fact, come some snow it will get a lot harder. I guess that sometimes the way up to where He is, is difficult. I make it worse by wearing high heels and forgetting my umbrella for the unavoidable thunderstorms. Even when I've gone up as far as I can, there's more work to be done. That work is important for me and for others, but it's still work. Maybe I just need to stop counting the stairs and enjoy the view I have as I try to climb a little higher.

Sunday Mornings

I don't know if there's anything quite like the peace of waking up on a Sunday morning without an alarm and seeing the golden gleam of early morning through my window. Especially now that autumn is creeping its way into the air, giving it a crisp feel. This morning I simply lay in the silence, appreciating the silence pervading my mind and heart. For those who have not tried this strategy of contemplation, I say try it out. Too often we let the alarms of life dictate our schedule from sleeping to working to homework. By allowing my body to wake me up I can feel rested spiritually and physically.

Of course, that means we must be able to wake up before noon without the aid of an alarm. I realize this may be difficult for some. I have had numerous friends who simply won't wake up until noon if they don't set an alarm. Sine I have never truly had that problem, I can give no real advice. I can only speculate that our bodies will do as we train them. If we deny them rest for years at a time, they may begin to rebel against our efforts to wake up on time.

But as I said before, I've really never been one to sleep in, not from the time I was a child. My parents' early morning scripture and prayer routine at 6 am made it a habit to wake up quickly and move out. When Mom would come by, singing brightly, we had only a few seconds to roll out and report to the family room with our scriptures before Dad would come by, knocking loud enough to wake someone in a coma. So I am used to a gentle waking, not the harshness of an buzzing alarm, but the sweet voice of my mother saying (and sometimes singing), "Good morning" or, "Rise and shine."

Perhaps it is those years of waking early for spiritual renewal (alright, I'll be honest, attempts of spiritual renewal) that make cool Sunday mornings near to heaven for me. But I believe that the Lord is awake then as well, waiting for me to come to Him and find answers in the rare stillness of the morning. He knows that I won't be distracted by the traffic of life so He opens the windows of heaven and lets me catch the exquisite breeze.

A New Beginning

Cum Grano Salis. It means "with a grain of salt" and implies that it takes some intellect to do. Which is why I followed it up with "a bit pretentiously," because I know very little about Latin, blogging, or the world in general. However, I spend all day in graduate courses listening to the philosphies of others. I have a few philosopies of my own. So for all you folks who give a hoot about what I think-read on. And take it all with a grain of salt.