So Who Cares?

Back in January, I started this blog. One of the reasons I started it in the first place was because I had been assigned to write an article for a magazine - christened [in]visible, that I'm helping to start up at Scripps - about the distinctions between journaling and blogging. I had thought they were two manifestations of the same thing, but nevertheless I started up a blog for fun.

I was wrong.

I didn't realize how public blogs were. I knew anybody could see them, yes, but who would take the time to track down "spoony driftwood"? Does anyone really care what I'm thinking about? Type in "spoony" into your Google browser and I assure you, you'll get through the definition of spoony, spoony bards, and spoony's glass pipes (which you should actually check out - click http://www.spoonysglasspipes.com/ oh goodness the free advertisement) before you've even dented the amoutn of links it'll take you to get to spoony driftwood. I'm not really worried about who sees what I'm writing - that's the point, and why I still keep a journal to record more private thoughts - I simply didn't realize who cares. I have my own obscure little corner of the internet, and I'm quite content here, but there are some of you who have followed me here. And there are more of you than I had expected. Admittedly, there are more of you than expected, but still. Thanks.

Reflections of Neruda

A rose sits in a transparent and blue-stained glass vase. Behind it sit a string of fake orchids, and a calendar with a picture of a snowy tree in streetlight after midnight. There is nothing more calm and perfect than this right now. The rain is gone for now, but it'll be back soon. The world can be contained in a vase and the petals of a white flower.

A red scarf, Wellies with the New York Times posted over them, bag in hand, rushing down the streets because the time has run over. Lacking a p-coat for the winter evening, but moonlight shining and casting shadows where there are no streetlights.

Clair de Lune

There is something peaceful and complete about listening to "Clair de Lune" while it's raining outside. It's like crying, like cleansing oneself. You're more whole.

I wonder what Debussy was thinking about when he composed it.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKd0VII-l3A

Simple Confession

I'm going to own up to it tonight that I miss my mother. I miss seeing my brothers, my dad, my sister. Even the cat. I miss being home and driving down familiar streets, which I've known for the past ten years. Being away at school is wonderful, and I love my friends here; it's new and exciting, and when I think once again of those streets, those same old streets, I'm glad that I'm away. But despite being surrounded by people, being still in the thick of newness and change, sometimes it is simply lonely. That's all I really have to say: it's lonely sometimes, and I miss my mom.

Mount Fuji

“There are many ways to the top of Mt. Fuji.”

The first time I heard that phrase, it was from my brother. He served a mission for the LDS Church in Fukuoka, Japan. Whether he picked it up there, reading Shinto texts for a class on Japanese religion, or from Pat Morita in one of the Karate Kid movies remains to be seen, although when it comes down to relevance, it does not matter where he first heard it. What is relevant is how I have applied in my life and what it means to me.

It means there are many ways to the top of Mt. Fuji. For some, it may be a long path up a shallow incline with many switchbacks that make you feel as if you’re not making any headway: pleasant, but it seems without an end. For others, it may be up a near-vertical cliff with few purchases for clinging to its face as storms pound against your back and every gust of wind threatens to tear your fingers from their scrabbling handholds. Everyone must find their own path up to the top of Mt. Fuji.

I used to think this as an allegory to God. “Everyone must find their own pathway to God.” I allowed myself to think that, so long as you find your way to belief, that will get you to the top. Whether you believe in the Christian God, the Muslim God, a pantheon, animism, karma, ancestor-worship, the Infinite, or no God at all but could find a reason to wake up in the morning and derive enjoyment from life, it didn’t matter. You had found your way to Mt. Fuji, whether by your own creed or someone else’s. But you had done it. You had found what makes sense to you, and thereby reached God.

Now I am not so sure.

What if “reaching the top” didn’t mean “reaching God”?

I shudder at the use of the word, but I want everyone to be “saved.” In a more aesthetically pleasing sense, if not more clichéd, I want everyone to be happy. However, it has to be happiness on an individual’s own terms. I can do nothing to influence others’ happiness, other than perhaps take happiness in my own way of living and serve as an example. If someone wants to be happy like I am, I can offer them guidelines; perhaps what makes me happy will make them happy, too.

“Straight is the gate and narrow the way,” “broad is the path that leadeth down to hell,” and “there can be no other salvation save it cometh through Jesus Christ” put a cramp in my happy worldview. There are many, many good people who have lived, are living, or will live. The Church makes provision for them; if they do not choose to be baptized in this life, others will stand in proxy baptism for them here on Earth, and they can choose to accept that baptism. I agree with that wholeheartedly. I could not believe in a God who sends His Children to Earth, only to bar them from reaching his presence if they have not heard his Gospel.

My problem is that I continually defer my definitions. Does “reaching the top” mean reaching a point where you can believe in something, or does it mean reaching a point where you can believe in my God? But you cannot believe in my God, you can only believe in your God – even if it is the same person.

Now I am simply confusing myself. Let me go back to the basics.

I believe in God, our Heavenly Father. Because I feel like I should make it clear, I also believe in his Son Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.

We, as members of the LDS faith, have some belief that all of us “Mormons” – and only us “Mormons” – will be saved in the Celestial Kingdom. I take the Celestial Kingdom, not simply Heaven, but to live in God’s presence and his glory. Some of the best people I know are LDS. Many of them are not. Some of my least favorite people are LDS, as well. I cannot reconcile the fact that people who are searching for God, who are living God’s life, will not be accepted by Him.

There are times when I dislike Institute, which is basically the LDS equivalent of Bible-study, but there are times when I am humbled and taught more than I could ever have figured out alone. (Quick side note: I am also glad that I have been given a mind of my own so that I may try and reason things out for myself, but if I fail, then I fail. There is great comfort in knowing that there are things that mortal man was not meant to know. [And when I say "man," I include "woman" in that, as well. I know it's a given, but I go to a women's college, and we have to make these things clear - the Gospel, reason, immortality, and eternal life are available to everyone regardless of gender, ethnicity, age, sins.]) “Immortality and eternal life,” as mentioned in various places throughout our scriptures seemed to be the same thing to me, but one of the graduate students delineated the difference. First of all, immortality is life without death – according to LDS doctrine, all men shall be resurrected and redeemed from death, regardless of who they are or what they have done. But eternal life is something different. Eternal life is granted to those who live the way God lives, who are ready to live in his presence. Eternal life is in itself the way that God lives. Although we do not now have immortality, we can attain eternal life by striving to live that life.

Perhaps, then, that is the way to Mount Fuji. But it does not solve the problem. I’m going to take the easy way out and say that I believe my religion has the most truth of anyone on the Earth at this time, or ever has had. That is not to say that other religions don’t have truth, or that mine is perfect. I will be narrow and say that this is the only way to God, but there are many ways to find this God, be it through searching other Christian Gods, Hindu Gods, or no God at all.

In an anticlimactic ultimate sentence: may you find your own path.