Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust more dead leaves fall,.
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold and dark and dreary.
It rains and the wind is never weary.
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past.
And youth's fond hopes fall thick in the blast.
And my life is dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart and cease repining
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining
Thy fate is the common fate of all
Into each life some rain must fall
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Chi-Town Kid: Don't be a Me Monster
Greetings from the Chi-Town Kid. I am that random friend kt has told everyone about that lives in Chicago. If you don't know the story, ask her. She would love to tell it again.
What a sad little party it would be if this little beauty didn't exist. Can you imagine?
<-- Example of Me Monsters attacking your conversation
I post today on a phenomenon I like to call the Me Monster.
Preamble
Preamble
Have you ever wondered about those kids that talk all the time? I have always been curious as to how an individual could possibly talk for so long. Most of us, after a while, reach a point in a conversation where we're simply done talking. Not necessarily done talking with you, or your friend, or my sister for that matter, just done talking - either because it's your turn to talk or because there is simply nothing else to say. Even if I'm tempted to keep talking, then I might stop and ask myself, "Does any of this even matter?" or "Am I boring you? Well, let me stop then."
I have come to the conclusion that individuals who can ramble on forever and ever and not get tired of hearing themselves speak, and relate mostly boring stories, are Me Monsters.
I would like to point out that allthough these individuals seem to be quite self-centered, the size of the ego is the least disconcerting. The disturbing part of it all is that this creature is boring: the conversation has derailed.
Examples
Let's say you are at a party just chatting away with friends. You start telling a lovely story about how your uncle has a small plane and let you fly last weekend. Next thing you know, some individual (read: "Me Monster") has overheard your conversation, and must outdo you. It turns out this kid has been on a space ship to the moon (!?!). So, you think to yourself, that was awkward, but you shrug it off and just move on to the next story. By this time, however, he has moved in closer. This time you begin telling of the time you went to Anaheim Stadium and got Vlad's autograph. Again, before the period is placed on your last sentence, he comes in with his story about going out to dinner with the entire New York Yankee team. This is where you withdraw - and allow the Me Monster to dominate the conversation.
I'm sure you can see there could be an endless number of scenarios where the Me Monster could rear it's ugly head.
I would like to point out that allthough these individuals seem to be quite self-centered, the size of the ego is the least disconcerting. The disturbing part of it all is that this creature is boring: the conversation has derailed.
Examples
Let's say you are at a party just chatting away with friends. You start telling a lovely story about how your uncle has a small plane and let you fly last weekend. Next thing you know, some individual (read: "Me Monster") has overheard your conversation, and must outdo you. It turns out this kid has been on a space ship to the moon (!?!). So, you think to yourself, that was awkward, but you shrug it off and just move on to the next story. By this time, however, he has moved in closer. This time you begin telling of the time you went to Anaheim Stadium and got Vlad's autograph. Again, before the period is placed on your last sentence, he comes in with his story about going out to dinner with the entire New York Yankee team. This is where you withdraw - and allow the Me Monster to dominate the conversation.
I'm sure you can see there could be an endless number of scenarios where the Me Monster could rear it's ugly head.
What a sad little party it would be if this little beauty didn't exist. Can you imagine?
<-- Example of Me Monsters attacking your conversation
Doctrine and Covenants 111:11
Therefore, be ye as wise as serpents and yet without sin; and I will order all things for your good, as fast as ye are able to receive them.
Flashback: Mr. Men
Did anyone else read books like Mr. Happy and Mr. Messy growing up?They're almost exclusively in the UK now (I believe they are French originally).
I love 'em.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Married by Jack Gilbert
I came back from the funeral and crawled
around the apartment, crying hard,
searching for my wife's hair.
For two months got them from the drain,
from the vacuum cleaner, under the refrigerator,
and off the clothes in the closet.
But after other Japanese women came,
there was no way to be sure which were
hers, and I stopped. A year later,
repotting Michiko's avocado, I find
a long black hair tangled in the dirt.
around the apartment, crying hard,
searching for my wife's hair.
For two months got them from the drain,
from the vacuum cleaner, under the refrigerator,
and off the clothes in the closet.
But after other Japanese women came,
there was no way to be sure which were
hers, and I stopped. A year later,
repotting Michiko's avocado, I find
a long black hair tangled in the dirt.
Moroni 8:25-26
25 And the first fruits of arepentance is bbaptism; and baptism cometh by faith unto the fulfilling the commandments; and the fulfilling the commandments bringeth cremission of sins;
26 And the remission of sins bringeth ameekness, and lowliness of heart; and because of meekness and lowliness of heart cometh the visitation of the bHoly Ghost, which cComforter dfilleth with hope and perfect elove, which love endureth by fdiligence unto gprayer, until the end shall come, when all the hsaints shall dwell with God.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Secularization & Families
Gordon sent me this article today.
It's quite long, but very thought provoking. The article contests the general axiom that religiosity leads to focus on / large families, and suggests that perhaps large families lead to religiosity.
An especially interesting read from a doctrinal perspective, as well as within the context of the The Family: A Proclamation to the World
... not to mention Malachi 4
It's quite long, but very thought provoking. The article contests the general axiom that religiosity leads to focus on / large families, and suggests that perhaps large families lead to religiosity.
An especially interesting read from a doctrinal perspective, as well as within the context of the The Family: A Proclamation to the World
... not to mention Malachi 4
Alma 32:13
And now, because ye are compelled to be humble, blessed are ye; for a man sometimes, if he is compelled to be humble, seeketh repentance; and now surely, whosoever repenteth shall find mercy; and he that findeth mercy and endureth to the end the same shall be saved.
CTA
My life is governed by the train
The routine of the populus
My life is governed by numbers
7:14
4:39
The train's timetable
As I descend into the tunnel
and climb into my train
I feel a surge of happiness
I am in the company of strangers
Who share my life
Together we enter
Together we exit
And we are each of us a part of something big
and strong
and forceful
and alive
In these moments of secure anonymity
I can look around me
holding my bag
holding my book
with ticket in hand
and gripping the rail
and I can smile with sweet confidence
that I own what I hold
The routine of the populus
My life is governed by numbers
7:14
4:39
The train's timetable
As I descend into the tunnel
and climb into my train
I feel a surge of happiness
I am in the company of strangers
Who share my life
Together we enter
Together we exit
And we are each of us a part of something big
and strong
and forceful
and alive
In these moments of secure anonymity
I can look around me
holding my bag
holding my book
with ticket in hand
and gripping the rail
and I can smile with sweet confidence
that I own what I hold
High Flight by John Gillespie Magee Jr.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
And while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
(My mother sent me this poem this morning along with the following note:)
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
And while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
(My mother sent me this poem this morning along with the following note:)
An American volunteer with the Royal Canadian Air Force, 19-year-old John Magee was killed on December 11, 1941.
This poem was much quoted and remembered right after the explosion of the Challenger space shuttle in the 1980s.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Quote of the Day
I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.
Augusten Burroughs
Augusten Burroughs
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Helaman 3:35
Nevertheless they did afast and bpray oft, and did wax stronger and stronger in their chumility, and firmer and firmer in the faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation, yea, even to the dpurifying and the esanctification of their hearts, which sanctification cometh because of their fyielding their hearts unto God.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Prelude by James Russell Lowell
(technically it's Prelude to The Vision of Sir Launfal)
Over his keys the musing organist,
Beginning doubtfully and far away,
First lets his fingers wander as they list,
And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay:
Then, as the touch of his loved instrument
Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme,
First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent
Along the wavering vista of his dream.
Not only around our infancy
Doth heaven with all its splendors lie;
Daily, with souls that cringe and plot,
We Sinais climb and know it not.
Over our manhood bend the skies;
Against our fallen and traitor lives
The great winds utter prophecies;
With our faint hearts the mountain strives;
Its arms outstretched, the druid wood
Waits with its benedicite;
And to our age's drowsy blood
Still shouts the inspiring sea.
Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us;
The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in,
The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us,
We bargain for the graves we lie in;
At the devil's booth are all things sold,
Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold;
For a cap and bells our lives we pay,
Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking:
'T is heaven alone that is given away,
'T is only God may be had for the asking;
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean
To be some happy creature's palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o'errun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,--
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?
Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop over-fills it,
We are happy now because God wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back,
For other couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, --
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing!
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving;
'T is as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, --
'T is the natural way of living:
Who knows whither the clouds have fled?
In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake;
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed,
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache;
The soul partakes the season's youth,
And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe
Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth,
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow.
Over his keys the musing organist,
Beginning doubtfully and far away,
First lets his fingers wander as they list,
And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay:
Then, as the touch of his loved instrument
Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme,
First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent
Along the wavering vista of his dream.
Not only around our infancy
Doth heaven with all its splendors lie;
Daily, with souls that cringe and plot,
We Sinais climb and know it not.
Over our manhood bend the skies;
Against our fallen and traitor lives
The great winds utter prophecies;
With our faint hearts the mountain strives;
Its arms outstretched, the druid wood
Waits with its benedicite;
And to our age's drowsy blood
Still shouts the inspiring sea.
Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us;
The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in,
The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us,
We bargain for the graves we lie in;
At the devil's booth are all things sold,
Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold;
For a cap and bells our lives we pay,
Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking:
'T is heaven alone that is given away,
'T is only God may be had for the asking;
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean
To be some happy creature's palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o'errun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,--
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?
Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop over-fills it,
We are happy now because God wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back,
For other couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, --
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing!
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving;
'T is as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, --
'T is the natural way of living:
Who knows whither the clouds have fled?
In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake;
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed,
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache;
The soul partakes the season's youth,
And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe
Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth,
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Quote of the Day
Excerpt from Chapter 10 of "A Little Princess" by Frances Hodgson Burnett
One of these nights, when [Sara] came up to the attic cold and hungry, with a tempest raging in her young breast, Emily's stare seemed so vacant, her sawdust legs and arms so inexpressive, that Sara lost all control over herself. There was nobody but Emily-- no one in the world. And there she sat.
"I shall die presently," she said at first.
Emily simply stared.
"I can't bear this," said the poor child, trembling. "I know I shall die. I'm cold; I'm wet; I'm starving to death. I've walked a thousand miles today, and they have done nothing but scold me from morning until night. And because I could not find that last thing the cook sent me for, they would not give me any supper. Some men laughed at me because my old shoes made me slip down in the mud. I'm covered with mud now. And they laughed. Do you hear?"
She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing--Sara who never cried.
"You are nothing but a DOLL!" she cried. "Nothing but a doll-- doll--doll! You care for nothing. You are stuffed with sawdust. You never had a heart. Nothing could ever make you feel. You are a DOLL!"
Emily lay on the floor, with her legs ignominiously doubled up over her head, and a new flat place on the end of her nose; but she was calm, even dignified. Sara hid her face in her arms. The rats in the wall began to fight and bite each other and squeak and scramble. Melchisedec was chastising some of his family.
Sara's sobs gradually quieted themselves. It was so unlike her to break down that she was surprised at herself. After a while she raised her face and looked at Emily, who seemed to be gazing at her round the side of one angle, and, somehow, by this time actually with a kind of glassy-eyed sympathy. Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse overtook her. She even smiled at herself a very little smile.
"You can't help being a doll," she said with a resigned sigh, "any more than Lavinia and Jessie can help not having any sense. We are not all made alike. Perhaps you do your sawdust best." And she kissed her and shook her clothes straight, and put her back upon her chair.
Doctrine and Covenants 67:13-14
Continue in patience until ye are perfected. Let not your minds turn back; and when ye are worthy, in mine own due time, ye shall see and know that which was conferred upon you
Friday, June 15, 2007
If you build it, they will come
This Talk I love because I have been thinking so much about preaching the gospel - and how much we all need to teach and be taught!Even though I have been taught so much by the scriptures, the prophets, and the efforts of my family and friends, I often struggle to remember and so it is a great gift to have others teach me again and again - to remind me. In fact, that's why we have church, the scriptures, and the prophets - to continually cry repentance to us - so that we can REMEMBER.
Anyway, this specific talk by President Monson presents the idea of building bridges for each other - bridges to the gospel - and that if we build them, they (we!) will come.
I'm so grateful for the people who have built bridges for me and I hope that I can be more diligent and sincere in my efforts to build bridges for others.
p.s. The talk actually references Field of Dreams, so that's why I put the pic of the baseball field. PLUS it's summertime and who isn't in the mood to go to baseball games and watch Field of Dreams?????
p.p.s. My friend directed me to this talk by Elder Holland a few months ago, which is somewhat related.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Quote of the Day
A thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go--let it die away--go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow--and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life.
C. S. Lewis
I really appreciate this quote today because I am feeling that my life is very boring all of the sudden ... and while I am grateful for the lack of drama, I don't see a lot of thrills or life changes coming up. I made so many changes in December/January (6 months ago), and I was so accustomed to the uncertainty of my Chicago traveling days, that this steady state is starting to make me antsy :)
Enter the aforementioned quote. This is a great time for me to put "my house in order" so to speak. Now is the time to work hard, discard old habits, adopt new ones, and invest my time and energy in building great things - because I am not distracted nor encumbered by changes and thrills - and to appreciate the small and simple things, or "thrills," that are all around me.
And, as we know all too well, Change always comes soon enough ...
C. S. Lewis
I really appreciate this quote today because I am feeling that my life is very boring all of the sudden ... and while I am grateful for the lack of drama, I don't see a lot of thrills or life changes coming up. I made so many changes in December/January (6 months ago), and I was so accustomed to the uncertainty of my Chicago traveling days, that this steady state is starting to make me antsy :)
Enter the aforementioned quote. This is a great time for me to put "my house in order" so to speak. Now is the time to work hard, discard old habits, adopt new ones, and invest my time and energy in building great things - because I am not distracted nor encumbered by changes and thrills - and to appreciate the small and simple things, or "thrills," that are all around me.
And, as we know all too well, Change always comes soon enough ...
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Recent Resolution: No Soda
Seriously. So great. It's not a hard rule, but I haven't had one for like a month and it's fabulous. Reasons why I might have a soda:- Work Event with drinks (drinking water can appear ungracious)
- Low Blood Sugar
- Soda Party (ask me about this later)
Quote of the Day
A righteous life requires discipline. Discipline is that characteristic which will give you the strength to avoid giving up what you want most in life for something you think you want now.
Richard G. Scott
Richard G. Scott
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
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