Quote of the Day

No matter who we are or where we live, there is much about our daily lives that is routine and repetitive. As we go about this dailiness, we must be deliberate about doing the things that matter most. These must-do things include making room first for the minimum daily requirements of faithful behavior: true obedience, humble prayer, serious scripture study, and selfless service to others. No other daily vitamins strengthen the muscles of our faith as fast as these actions. We also must remember that genuine fasting fosters strong faith. This is especially important as we faithfully seek to fix deeply embedded character flaws which go “not out but by prayer and fasting.”
- L. Whitney Clayton, "Help Thou Mine Unbelief"

The Firefly by Ogden Nash

The firefly's flame
Is something for which science has no name
I can think of nothing eerier
Than flying around with an unidentified glow on a
person's posteerier.

The Great Commandment by Joseph Wirthlin

The scriptures tell us that “if any man love God, the same is known of him.” What a wonderful promise—to be known of Him. It makes the spirit soar to think that the Creator of heaven and earth could know us and love us with a pure, eternal love.

Love is the beginning, the middle, and the end of the pathway of discipleship. It comforts, counsels, cures, and consoles. It leads us through valleys of darkness and through the veil of death. In the end love leads us to the glory and grandeur of eternal life.

Sometimes the greatest love is not found in the dramatic scenes that poets and writers immortalize. Often, the greatest manifestations of love are the simple acts of kindness and caring we extend to those we meet along the path of life.

True love lasts forever. It is eternally patient and forgiving. It believes, hopes, and endures all things. That is the love our Heavenly Father bears for us.

We all yearn to experience love like this. Even when we make mistakes, we hope others will love us in spite of our shortcomings—even if we don’t deserve it.

Oh, it is wonderful to know that our Heavenly Father loves us—even with all our flaws! His love is such that even should we give up on ourselves, He never will.

We see ourselves in terms of yesterday and today. Our Heavenly Father sees us in terms of forever. Although we might settle for less, Heavenly Father won’t, for He sees us as the glorious beings we are capable of becoming.

The most cherished and sacred moments of our lives are those filled with the spirit of love. The greater the measure of our love, the greater is our joy. In the end, the development of such love is the true measure of success in life.

Read the full talk here.

Quote of the Day

Let us recognize that fear comes not of God, but rather that this gnawing, destructive element comes from the adversary of truth and righteousness.
Gordon B. Hinckley

Happiness is

• sleeping in (but not too much!)
• June sunshine
• airplanes flying overhead
• family arriving from far away
• chubby babies
• flip flop Friday at work
• going to the Temple

Hooray!

Yesterday morning I woke up and paid off my car loan - before I even got out of bed to run!

It will process tomorrow and I should have no more debt by the end of the month!

I am so excited and now I just need to meet my OTHER goals (see previous post).

Goals

I have two short term goals that I am focusing specifically on right now:

1. Lose 10 lbs by July 1st.
2. Pray morning and night - aloud and on my knees.

I sometimes get bogged down by all of the ways that I want to improve, and my sister wisely suggested I pick two and let myself enjoy some success :)

Quote of the Day

“Often the deep valleys of our present will be understood only by looking back on them from the mountains of our future experience. Often we can’t see the Lord’s hand in our lives until long after trials have passed. Often the most difficult times of our lives are essential building blocks that form the foundation of our character and pave the way to future opportunity, understanding, and happiness.”

- D. Uchtdorf

I have found that this is true in my life. The times that I have consecrated the anguish that I've felt due to heartbreak, grief, depression, or any other cause, I have emerged humbler, more flexible, more compassionate.

I want to do this better with the day to day things that frustrate me - consecrate them, bear them cheerfully, and be the better for them.

Quote of the Day

"If you are going to win any battle, you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do... the body is never tired if the mind is not tired."

George Patton

Quote of the Day

“God never bestows upon his people, or upon an individual, superior blessings without a severe trial to prove them.”
-Brigham Young, as quoted in "The Sustaining Power of Faith in Times of Uncertainty and Testing"

Quote of the Day

"All that is not eternal is too short, and all that is not infinite is too small.”
- inscribed in Stanford University Memorial Hall

Quote of the Day

While wholesome pleasure results from much we do that is good, it is not our prime purpose for being on earth. Seek to know and do the will of the Lord, not just what is convenient or what makes life easy.
- Richard G. Scott, "First Things First"

Happiness is

• fresh navel oranges
  
• sunshine
  
• gummy bear vitamins
• early mornings
  
• roses

Another video :)

This one is of my cousin and his wife who were in a plane crash a year and a half ago.

Video

I have been in Mormon Messages a lot the last week or so and am remembering how great these are. Enjoy!

Quote of the Day

"The pillars of my faith are still intact, but the roof has blown blessedly off the structure to reveal a whole sky full of stars."
- Emma Lou Thayne, about writing as a Mormon woman

French Horn by Jane Hirshfield

For a few days only,

the plum tree outside the window

shoulders perfection.

No matter the plums will be small,

eaten only by squirrels and jays.

I feast on the one thing, they on another,

the shoaling bees on a third.

What in this unpleated world isn’t someone’s seduction?

The boy playing his intricate horn in Mahler’s Fifth,

in the gaps between playing,

turns it and turns it, dismantles a section,

shakes from it the condensation

of human passage. He is perhaps twenty.

Later he takes his four bows, his face deepening red,

while a girl holds a viola’s spruce wood and maple

in one half-opened hand and looks at him hard.

Let others clap.

These two, their ears still ringing, hear nothing.

Not the shouts of bravo, bravo,

not the timpanic clamor inside their bodies.

As the plum’s blossoms do not hear the bee

nor taste themselves turned into storable honey

by that sumptuous disturbance.

Quote of the Day

"Never eat more than you can lift."

Miss Piggy

Quote of the Day

Learn to love those who sin differently from you.
- Unknown

Quote of the Day

As you know, continued exposure to loud sounds will, in time, damage delicate organs of hearing. In like manner, if you overindulge in loud music, you will more likely become spiritually deaf, unable to hear the still, small voice.
- Russell M. Nelson

Kind of a big deal

Yes, I am cheating and back-dating these posts. Give me a break! I have had a lot on my mind!

Why?

Because on Monday, February 22nd I gave notice at my current job and I am starting a new job on Monday, March 15th!

I'm so excited, but making the decision was an agonizing process. (AGONIZING).

I'm extremely happy with this decision, the 2 weeks off I have between the jobs, and my ridiculously wonderful boyfriend. life. is. good. (!!)

Quote of the Day

The little things of life, sweet and excellent in their place, must not be the things lived for; the highest must be sought and followed; the life of heaven must be begun here on earth.

L.M. Montgomery

via Rachel

40 Days of ...

Tomorrow kicks off 40 days until Easter, and so I'm going to do the following:

• Purge my Google Reader of the superfluous design, fashion, and other blogs that distract me. (DONE!)
• Purge my iTunes of music that is distracting from good things.
• Blog daily (watch out!)
• Give up sweets (Bruce and I are doing this together).

Happiness Is

• space heaters
• tweed
• wassail
• Christmas lights
• rain
  

oh my dears

let me tell you how much fun I have had with the holidays this year!

Baking
1. Chocolate cream pie - made this for Thanksgiving and again for our church Christmas party. So delicious even though Gordon went overboard on the shaved chocolate garnish :) Love him. (ps: make this pie!)
2. Wassail - I just finished my second batch so far this season and it is warming my soul.
3. Chocolate chip waffles with peppermint stick ice cream - it was Sunday and we didn't have buttermilk or chocolate chips, so we had to settle for some rather dense waffles with chocolate chunks, but Marianne's ice cream more than compensated for it!
4. Chewy Gingersnaps - this recipe from my cousin Alice is the best I've ever tried and I will never, ever give it up!

Decorating
1. Dot garlands - my first attempt anything Martha Stewart and I have been SO happy with these! My friend Jess was the arm of this important operation.
2. Christmas Tree - my roommate and I decorated this with white lights while a third roommate made beautiful snowflakes to hang on and above it. I must learn how to make the snowflakes - they are amazing!
3. Wreath - I bought one from the local boy scouts and it is hanging just next to our front door (rather than on the door itself). It's rather fragile, so it will hold together better, I think.

I just attended my first Christmas party this year as well as the Creche Exhibit! AND I've been spending lots of time with this little nevvy of mine:

Journey of the Magi by T S Eliot

"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Happiness Is

• The color orange
• Ginger ale
• Flat screen monitors
• Roses
• A new book

Happiness Is

• cashmere scarves
• a fresh manicure
• kissing my nephews
• bright colors
• fog

Quote of the Day

There's the country of America, which you have to defend, but there's also the idea of America. America is more than just a country, it's an idea. An idea that's supposed to be contagious.
- Bono

Miss me?

Dear Reader,

I haven't forgotten you, I've just been shy. I have remembered how fortune favors the bold, however, and so I've returned. Truly a Thanksgiving miracle!

Here is what I've been occupied with:
1. work (ho hum)
2. traveling an inordinate amount (this has now halted for the present)
3. cooking/baking quite a lot
4. cuddling my nephews
5. running/falling in love

More to come on all of the above! Firstly, lets celebrate the fact that the man of my affections returns today and also that my baby brother Stu returns for Thanksgiving on Saturday. How spectacular!

Let's also note what I am making for Thanksgiving:
- Layered jello (see picture below)
- Chocolate Cream Pie

I'll be sure to take pictures and post recipes!

love
kt

His Voice Had Grown Softer Each Day by Kevin Goodan

I need you to get me a ticket, he said.
For what, I asked, waking at the foot of his bed.
For the train, he said. They say I need a ticket.
Except for the small lamp the room was dark.
The air was cool and clear. The first night of september.
Do you know who they are, I asked
and he said , Oh yes. They are smiling and waving-
I havent seen them in so long.
They want me to climb onboard...I need my ticket.
I want to give you a ticket, I said.

Theme in Yellow by Carl Sandburg

I SPOT the hills
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields
Orange and tawny gold clusters
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October
When dusk is fallen
Children join hands
And circle round me
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;
I am a jack-o'-lantern
With terrible teeth
And the children know
I am fooling.

a poem by Emily Dickinson

The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth.

The sweeping up the heart
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.

At the End of This Summer by John Haines

I wonder if I frightened you,
Coming as I did from behind
As you sat alone in your chair
With the low sun melting over your head.
I couldn't imagine what you were
Looking at or thinking of--
You who have always been so lively
And little given to quiet--
And the desire to bend and kiss your hair
Was almost unbearable.
You turned,
With that air of half-astonishment
You use so well, I smiled a greeting.

After that, we sat and talked for a while
And enjoyed the departing light.
Then the warmth was gone,
And we rose, I to take my leave, and you
To close the door and pull the shade,
And turn to the lighting of a lamp,
The starting of a fire in the stove.

Remember Lot's Wife

My roommate of bygone years wrote a blog post on remembering Lot's wife and not looking back. The many comments by the readers were (as usual) inspiring and some of their comments reaffirmed something that I have been thinking about lately, which is that

God is always forward looking.

I think that’s how He tries to coach our thinking, our attitudes, and transform us. Rather than fret and fester over the past, move on and do better.

We see a great example of this in the story of Cain and Abel. When Cain’s offering is not accepted (Genesis 4), Cain ‘was very wroth and his countenance fell.’ Basically he got depressed, angry, and was sulking.

And the Lord said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted?

Cain proceeds to give up trying to please God in spite of God's encouragement. I find that God's initial response to Cain is pretty consistent when I think about the things He says to me when I pray. It is always one of the following:
1. I love you. Thanks for praying.
2. You’re right, you shouldn’t have done that. Put it behind you.
3. Do this. (I can help you, just ask)
4. {Insert doctrine here}

He never says:
1. What took you so long. You never pray consistently.
2. I can’t believe you did that again.

I think the best record we have of conversations with God is found in Doctrine & Covenants. One of my favorite passages is a great case:

For, behold, you should not have feared man more than God. Although men set at naught the counsels of God, and despise his words— Yet you should have been faithful; and he would have extended his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he would have been with you in every time of trouble. ..if thou art not aware thou wilt fall. But remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent … and thou art still chosen. (Doctrine & Covenants 3:7-10)

If that isn’t forward looking I don’t know what is.

#23. Run a 5k Race

Last night I ran the Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5k and it was lovely!

Firstly, the weather was perfect and we ran on the baylands. I felt pre-race giddiness.

Secondly, so many friends were there! Lots of children, an assortment of neighbors and members of the community. It was delightful to jog in place, smiling, laughing. My newly released Bishop D W came by after finishing the 5k walk with his two beaming red-headed daughters. They were pink-cheeked and smiled so sweetly.

And then! We were off! I felt the imminent danger of a human stampede, but as I moved with the crowd we suddenly reached the open air of the trail. I forgot my iPod, so I simply ran alone looking at the night, focusing on my breathing, finding my pace. The giddiness melted away and I heard snippets of conversations from my neighbors as they passed me, I passed them. It was beautiful to think of all the many hearts beating in their respective chests. Most runners had some kind of light source - a blinking red button, a headlamp, a glowing necklace or bracelet.

And when I reached the last mile, I picked up my pace praying that I wouldn't burn out. And when I reached the final 100 yards, I sprinted. I beat my previous time, I was greeted by and continued to greet arriving friends. I ate orange slices, quarters of bagel, and reveled in the satisfaction that I had officially completed #23 of my 100 Things (see right hand sidebar). I ran a 5k race (and enjoyed it)!

A Vagabond Song by Bliss Carman

THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

Wordy Thursdy: Felicity

"Is there any felicity in the world superior to this?" - Marianne, Sense and Sensibility (1995)

use it instead of these words: happiness, joy, contentment, pleasure.

variations: felicitous (use instead of happy), felicitate, felicitation (use plural instead of congratulations)

I felicitate you! He offered his felicitations. The felicities of summertime. There is no greater felicity than chocolate cake.

It's felicity. (Not just an American Girl, people!)

------

Update:

gchat status 9/17/2009

"leads a felicitous life"

Wordy Thursdy: Loath

I don't mean, who do you loathe more than [insert loathed object here]. I mean, what are you loath to do?
It's a state of mind, not a verb. It's sans 'e.'

Also the vowel sound is similar to 'loaf''

use it instead of these words: unwilling, reluctant, disinclined, averse.

I'm loath to do that. I am loath to do so. She is loath to come with me. He is loath to do his homework. ad nauseum.

It's loath [or loth].

------

Update:

Email 9/17/2009

"If we change this to Tuesday instead would you be able to join? We had
someone else asking, so we just wanted to check before revisiting the date
(which we are generally loath to do)."

Vocabulary Challenge

I realized last night that I have many words in my vocabulary that I rarely (if ever) use in written or spoken word. I have decided to start integrating these delightful words here and now!

So starting now, Thursdays will be Vocab day! (do I ever stick to my "day of the week themes"? Let this be the first!)

Please feel free to take on this challenge with me. What I will do is report the 2-3 words for the week and provide updates from time to time on my usage. Please share your experiences!

2009 Haiku Hustlers (AKA Winning Poets)

It is with great pleasure that I announce this year's winning poets:

The Haiku Hustlers

Winners should email me via f r a n n y k t (you can direct it to a gmail account) with his or her mailing address to receive their prize. The prizes for the winner of each category are as follows.

Best September Haiku - wins a song about September sung by KT
Most Humorous Haiku - wins a (FUN!) surprise
Best Haiku Series - wins a serial story by KT
Most Creative Haiku - wins a work of art by KT
Best Haiku about a Place - wins at least 1 postcard (maybe more!)

And now... the winning haiku poets!

Best September Haiku: "Gayle"
September brings a
fresh start at the year's waning:
a birthday and school.

Most Humorous Haiku: "Whits"
facebook, gchat, tweets:
what would I do without you?
work? non-existent.

Giants break my heart
Please start hitting the baseball
Can't let Rockies in

Best Haiku Series: "Heresiarch"
Murder is elementary

Agatha Christie
Gives you a cup of hot tea
laced with arsenic

Blimp enthusiast
Has enemies. One lit match:
Death by hydrogen

Helium-filled room
Is inert, as you are--trapped
With your squeaky screams

Swimming late at night
Sodium plus H2O
Explosive moment

Trapped in a peat swamp
Compressed for one million years
Crystalline carbon

Tungsten filament
Saboteur, exploding bulb
Placed to pierce my heart

Ununquadium
Half life 2.6 seconds
How long will yours be?

Orange krypton light
Illuminates Lex Luthor as
Superman is killed

Twenty-one ponies
Die, selenium overdosed
Foul play is involved

Cancer struck quickly
Must be the plutonium
You slipped in my drink

Silicon circuit
Tampered with in robot's brain
Inventor's life ends

"Sweetness shows presence
Of beryllium," he says.
He omits "It's toxic."

My pet is smiling
(My chromium manticore)
As he leaps at you

Zeus hated Al's golf
Sent bolt to strike head of Al's
Titanium club

Most Creative Haiku: "LRH"
One more souvenir
A collection most esteemed
My fake credit cards

Best Haiku about a Place: "Alli"
Let's go to the moon
There is no gravity there
Good for dance parties

Return of the Haiku Hustle

Dear Reader,

After a 3 year hiatus, it is with great pleasure that we welcome back the Haiku Hustle: A Haiku Invitational and Challenge.

An Invitation
Please (using the Comments section) submit a haiku (a series of haiku, multiple entries, are welcome). Please review the guidelines at the end of this post.

A Challenge
I will award prizes to the best haiku (best = the ones I select for any reason I choose) in the following categories:
(1) Best September Haiku
(2) Most Humorous Haiku
(3) Best Haiku Series (containing at least 3 haiku)
(4) Most Creative Haiku
(5) Best Haiku about a place
- You are welcome to include an introduction or a note along with your haiku to assist in the judging.

Guidelines
1. Entries must be posted as a comment in order to be considered. Multiple comments, posts, submissions may be made.
2. Poems must be in haiku format. They must have 3 lines in 5/7/5 syllabic form. They do not generally rhyme (no extra points for rhyming. In fact, I may dock you points).
3. Poems do not have to be traditional Haiku, but there are awards in that category. Please note that traditional Haiku are minimalist and nature-themed.
4. You do NOT have to know me to make a submission! :)
5. Rated G please.
6. Deadline = Friday, September 11th. Awards will be issued on Monday, September 14th.

I WILL NOT BE POSTING AGAIN UNTIL THE CHALLENGE IS COMPLETE! Good luck!!!

My sister the magnificent!

My sister Laura just turned 30 on Wednesday and is, impressively, a neuropsychologist, mother, and authoress. Seriously. She writes murder mystery parties, and now, apparently murder mystery novels!

In fact, you can read one of her mystery novels on textnovel.com - which is currently in a contest to win something-or-other. In hopes that you'll go read her novel and help her win, I now introduce you to:

Seller of Soles by Laura Lyle...

Clickitty Clack is the most fashionable shoe shop in San Francisco and November Cole, the owner, enjoys every minute of her success. But when one of her wealthiest clients is murdered for a pair of blood red sandals, November begins to wonder about the mysterious designer who made them. When a second client is killed for a pair of red high heels, the police get involved and November becomes the prime suspect. Who is after the heels and why are they worth killing for?

Mmm, shoes and murder in San Francisco... delightful!

The House by Richard Wilbur

Sometimes, on waking, she would close her eyes
For a last look at that white house she knew
In sleep alone, and held no title to,
And had not entered yet, for all her sighs.
What did she tell me of that house of hers?
White gatepost; terrace; fanlight of the door;
A widow’s walk above the bouldered shore;
Salt winds that ruffle the surrounding firs.
Is she now there, wherever there may be?
Only a foolish man would hope to find
That haven fashioned by her dreaming mind.
Night after night, my love, I put to sea.

Stake Mission Rules

My friend Jennifer gave me these rules that her Stake Mission has outlined. I think they pretty much cover all the bases:

• Get up early; go to bed at a reasonable hour
• Offer regular, frequent and fervent prayer
• Engage in daily scripture study
• Write in your journal
• Exercise
• Look the part
• Keep the commandments
• Freely give service
• Go to the temple
• Don't waste time
• Share the gospel

I am toying with the notion of doing a blog post on my attempts to do each of these with consistency. But we all know how that went with the stress busters..

Isaiah 63:7-9

I will mention the lovingkindnesses of the Lord, and the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord hath bestowed on us, and the great goodness toward the house of Israel, which he hath bestowed on them according to his mercies, and according to the multitude of his lovingkindnesses.

For he said, Surely they are my people: so he was their Saviour.

In all their affliction he was afflicted, in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old.

A special friend!

Dear friends,

Today is my friend Peter's birthday. Let me tell you a few things I love about Peter:
1. Peter is always generous and includes others - he is always nice and friendly to everyone.
2. Peter has a hilarious giggle and is quick to laugh. It's always fun to be with him!
3. Peter fills his life to the brim with good things (okay maybe overflowing, because I don't see him enough...) For instance, right now Peter is acting in community theatre as a cowboy Bo. (hee hee. that's funny to me.)
4. MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL! Peter loves his family. His sister Kate suffers from a condition called hydrocephalus and Peter has organized a fundraising event to raise money for medical research.

Therefore, in honor of Peter's birthday and his amazing sister Kate, I'd like to invite you all to donate to http://teamhydro.org (no donation is too small! AND it's tax deductible, of course). If you do not have the means to donate, I invite you to spread the word! At the very least you can link to this blog post or Peter's web site http://teamhydro.org

Happy Birthday, Peter! I know there is nothing you want more than help for Kate :)

<-- Peter and Kate

The Spiritual Gems of Life by Jordan Cox

You use virtual reality in your lives all the time: video games, computer animations, virtual relationships through the Internet, virtual entertainment through TV and the movies—to name a few of the many forms of virtual reality. However, if you wish to win your bid for eternal life, you will need to put away the virtual reality of your life and develop real relationships and real friendships. You will need to build eternal realities.

These gems sparkle on my dreary plain, and I have discovered them only as I have kept my eyes focused on the Son of God. I have collected them in my collecting bag—my journal. You have your own plain to explore. Unique and beautiful gems are there. I hope you will find them. Remember, keep your eyes toward the Son of God. Pray always in your heart. Look for spiritual parallels. You will see them. At first they will be tiny sparkles scattered upon the plain, but then you will notice that they are really more organized than you thought. I think that one day we will all collectively discover that they are part of an amazing sea of glass hiding under the dusty soil of this earth life. And this sea of glass will tell us all things about the kingdoms we have been living in (see D&C 130:7).

Read the talk here.

Quote of the Day

If I esteem mankind to be in error, shall I bear them down? No, I will lift them up and in their own way too, If I cannot persuade them my way is better; and I will not seek to compel any man to believe as I do, only by the force of reasoning, for truth will cut its own way.
Joseph Smith

Quote of the Day

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and success of liberty.
JFK

Quote of the Day

We identify the flag with almost everything we hold dear on earth, peace, security, liberty, our family, our friends, our home. . .But when we look at our flag and behold it emblazoned with all our rights we must remember that it is equally a symbol of our duties. Every glory that we associate with it is the result of duty done.
Calvin Coolidge

Quote(s) of the Day

It takes a long time to turn a big country around. Just be of good cheer and keep working on it.

There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.

Bill Clinton

My dear Readers,

I am going to formalize what you may have already noticed - I am taking a vacation from blogging. I have a lot of things I need to focus on, and sadly, blogging has not made the list.

I will be back from time to time, or not.

much love to you,
kt

Doogie's Obituary

here.

I'm back

I got back last week, but -WOW- it has been busy!

- back to work
- moved to a new house (!)
- family tragedy

I am grateful for a wonderful extended family that is such a great example to me of faith and trust in the Lord. I am grateful for the promise of the resurrection made possible through Jesus Christ. It gives hope where otherwise there would be none. I am grateful for temples where families can be sealed together forever - so that death need not part.

Much love to you all, I'll be posting again soon.

Greetings from Vienna

Hello, my lovelies.

Turns out I missed my flight to Norway. I won't go into the tears and frustration, but instead will tell you I salvaged my weekend by flying to Vienna to visit the family of my dear friends Becca and Benj. It's been glorious weather and I still got to visit continental Europe for the first time. {Can I also tell you that Saturday night was the first night I slept in a bed since Tuesday? Fantastic...}

As for visiting my friends Inki and Robert, I will be in Norway May 17th next year ... I'm committed!

love to you all,
kt

Hello Tommy!

I'd like to introduce you all to my newest nephew:

- Born 10:25 pm Wednesday, May 13th, 2009
- 7lbs 9 oz

It seemed probable a week ago that Nephew #2 would arrive before my trip, but today I acknowledged that I would probably not meet my nephew until after I returned.

I was wrong!

When I got out of the temple tonight, I had a voice message that Laura had gone into labor. I was able to go directly to the hospital and meet Tommy just 10 minutes after he was born :)

He looks a lot like Brady - he is beautiful! I got to cuddle him while Laura ate and both of them are very healthy and doing "more than perfect" (says the Nurse).

I'm so grateful I got to be there with my sister (and brother-in-law and mother) and to welcome little Tommy here. I know Brady will love him and be a great older brother. I love nephews !!!

Photo #2: Laura (mom) with baby Tommy

Photos #3 & #4: Baby Tommy just received eye ointment and is being cuddled by Brock (dad)

Gone Fishing

Dearest Friends,

My backpack arrived today and so I am leaving for 2 weeks on vacation. I am going to Europe* and the exotic Midwest**.

I love you, I'll miss you and my iPhone, but it's time I go exploring...

xoxo
kt

*London, Bergen & Oxford
**St. Louis & Chicago

To the mothers in my life,

Grandma,
When I am with you, I am home. Being with you fills my heart with a deep warmth and sense of security - and gives me a vision of who I am beyond age and circumstance. I think that must be what heaven is like.

Mom,
I love your guileless wit, your tender heart, and your rich gifts with language. You are beautiful, patient, and wise. The lessons you have taught me of equality and compassion still resonate in my head; you have never talked "down" to me, nor have you ever taught me that I am "above" anyone else. Thank you for loving me no more and no less than your other children.

Laura,
Motherhood has crowned you with a beauty, grace, and serenity I hope to have someday. Your son is a testament to your sweet nature and disciplined character. "By their fruits ye shall know them," indeed. The love I have for your son, which is often expressed on this blog, is only an appendage of my love for you.

love
kt

Laura as a Baby

Adorable, no? Just thought you should all see where my nephew gets his dimples and smiling eyes... xoxo

Quote of the Day

Be silly, be honest, be kind.
R. W. Emerson

Happy Birthday, Brady!

oh, how I love him...
{sigh}

A House of God

Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing; and establish a
house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a
house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God;

Doctrine & Covenants 88:119

Should* I ever express, with a sigh, my love for the Temple while in the presence of my father, he would surely reply (without a pause, and without variation), "you know, kt, Jesus Christ is the pattern for our lives, and the temple is the pattern for our homes."

One of my father's most effective parenting methods has been consistent, strategic communication** and his practice in this case does not vary. And so I have thought about the principles behind how the temple is managed and decorated - with the aim of executing those strategies effectively, albeit differently, in my own home.

Order and Cleanliness
One of my resolutions this year is to have "a place for everything and everything in its place" - and working toward this has been incredibly satisfying. Moving twice in the last 9 months has given me ample opportunity to purge my possessions. Even my car is tidy in this moment.# Truly, I've exceeded my expectations for myself.## The final frontier is my small bookshelf and coming up with a system to manage my bills / personal papers.

Holiness
Let me hang the proverbial WIP sign on this one. After hearing secondhand about a wonderful address on worthy music, I have been trying to purge my iTunes and DVD collections. This is really challenging for me. Not because I have anything 'black,' but of course I have lots of 'gray' (I will reserve my preferred 'grey' spelling for good greys. like shoes.). Do certain songs by the Beatles and Michael Jackson get grandfathered in? What about movies with fast cars and fast women (or ballerina dancers for that matter..) ? It's a difficulty, and I'm working through it.

Appearance
I have strong convictions about the relationship between the spirit and body. If the temple is a metaphor for our bodies and a pattern for our homes, then the appearance of our homes must also be significant. I don't mean tidiness/cleanliness, but the actual decoration.

But surely my apartment does not need to be decorated exactly like a temple, right? (right??) Firstly, I've seen quite the variation in temple decor. Secondly, I like lots of bright colors and whilst some temples have quite a bit of color, I find it is more subdued than I would like in my own home. Thirdly, as the function of a home varies from a temple, so (I presume) the execution of these principles may.

And so, let's keep this high level. Here are the patterns I've noted thus far:

• Motifs are simple, primarily organic, but often geometric.
• Artwork is not exclusively "religious," but may depict nature, or family life (emphasizing local history /culture).
• White and gold are used extensively. Other commonly used colors include green, purple, and pink (again, colors often found in nature).
• Lots of wood, stone, glass, mirrors, chandeliers.
• An impression of light, simplicity, and open space.

I love the idea of strategically decorating my home using similar principles. I may use this as my "best" in the good better best spectrum. While I could end up collecting quite a bit of pop art (I love movies, pop culture, etc.), what would that emphasize and romanticize to my {future} children? What would I find myself thinking about when I am home in my leisure time? If the artwork reflects the beautiful world God has created, the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, and the joy of family, I can see that supporting the strategy for keeping an eye single to the glory of God and raising children to do so as well. I think that the more I model my home's decor after the temple, the more the temple will seem "like home" to me and my {future} family. The temple may be more soft, more sober, more subtle; but I would love for it to seem familiar - perhaps even an extension - of home.

* hypothetically speaking, I mean.
** remind me to give further evidence of this later...
# I consider my car to be an extension of my home. Indeed, I consider my personal email inbox and my work cubicle to be extensions as well.
## did I mention they were low?

Hooray for May!

I have to say that even MY love for poems has been satiated by National Poetry Month and I greet the month of May with relief. It will take something truly splendid to bring another poem anytime soon (You have my permission to take that as a challenge. However, if I were you, I'd save it for August's Haiku Challenge). Who knew that 30 poems would exhaust my supply and test my resourcefulness? Surely, I did not.

Anyway, it's now May. And May is all about...

Mums!

So check these out:

Scary
Sad
Sweet
and
Real





ps. I sometimes wonder what kind of mum I will be. Here's my guess:

• bossy
• charming
• preachy
• entertaining
• exacting
• affectionate
• always right

Covenants: Source of Power

{I wrote this for my ward's May 2009 newsletter}

Last August, my cousin, 30, and his wife, 27, were in perfect health and beauty, but within the course of an afternoon, a private plane crash left them both severely burned – even in critical condition. Our family was filled with great pain and anxiety by the thought of the physical, mental, and emotional burdens they would now carry.

During this time, I found that the covenants made in the temple increased in significance and tenderness. As I attended regularly and performed each ordinance, I thought of how each promise I received had also been made to my cousins. The promise of the resurrection became more dear, physical blessings more tender.

In the past 9 months, our family has witnessed many miracles of healing. Most marvelous of all: seeing my cousin and his wife greet and bear these burdens with the endurance of faith. Their strength is a gift from God, given through the temple covenants they have made and kept.

In his recent conference address, “The Power of Covenants,” Elder Christofferson taught that God is the source of moral and spiritual power:

“The source [of power] is God. Our access to that power is through our covenants with Him. [And] we enter into covenants by priesthood ordinances.”

Elder Christofferson goes on to identify three ways that making and keeping covenants with God “gives us power to smile through hardships, to convert tribulation into triumph, to be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and bring to pass much righteousness.”

1. Gifts and Blessings - Obedience to covenants brings “a continual flow of blessings”.

"And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them" (1 Nephi 17:3)

2. Increased Faith - “[Covenants] produce the faith necessary to persevere and to do all things that are expedient in the Lord.”

"It was [faith] that enabled the ancient saints to endure all their afflictions and persecutions, and to take . . . not only the spoiling of their goods, and the wasting of their substance, joyfully, but also to suffer death in its most horrid forms; knowing (not merely believing) that when this earthly house of their tabernacle was dissolved, they had a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. (2 Cor. 5:1)" (Lectures on Faith [1985], 67).

3. The Bestowal of Divine Power – “In all the ordinances, especially those of the temple, we are endowed with power from on high. This power of godliness comes in the person and by the influence of the Holy Ghost.”

With Elder Christofferson, I testify that through sacred covenants we can grow in faith and godliness. I have witnessed the power of covenants in the life of my family and hope to feel their transforming power over the course of my own life, and that all of us “after … temptations, and much tribulation, … shall be converted, and [that Christ] will heal [us].” (D&C 112:13)

Very Like a Whale by Ogden Nash

One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and
metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,
Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to
go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
What does it mean when we are told
That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?
In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience
To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of
Assyrians.
However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and
thus hinder longevity.
We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.
Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were
gleaming in purple and gold,
Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a
wold on the fold?
In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy
there are great many things.
But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple
and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.
No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was
actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof;
Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red
mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof Woof?
Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say,
at the very most,
Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian
cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.
But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he
had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,
With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers
to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of
wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets,
from Homer to Tennyson;
They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,
And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket
after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of
snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical
blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm,
And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly
What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.

Child by Carl Sandburg

The young child, Christ, is straight and wise
And asks questions of the old men, questions
Found under running water for all children
And found under shadows thrown on still waters
By tall trees looking downward, old and gnarled.
Found to the eyes of children alone, untold,
Singing a low song in the loneliness.
And the young child, Christ, goes on asking
And the old men answer nothing and only know love
For the young child. Christ, straight and wise.

Different Ways to Pray by Naomi Shihab Nye

There was the method of kneeling,
a fine method, if you lived in a country
where stones were smooth.
The women dreamed wistfully of bleached courtyards,
hidden corners where knee fit rock.
Their prayers were weathered rib bones,
small calcium words uttered in sequence,
as if this shedding of syllables could somehow
fuse them to the sky.

There were the men who had been shepherds so long
they walked like sheep.
Under the olive trees, they raised their arms—
Hear us! We have pain on earth!
We have so much pain there is no place to store it!
But the olives bobbed peacefully
in fragrant buckets of vinegar and thyme.
At night the men ate heartily, flat bread and white cheese,
and were happy in spite of the pain,
because there was also happiness.

Some prized the pilgrimage,
wrapping themselves in new white linen
to ride buses across miles of vacant sand.
When they arrived at Mecca
they would circle the holy places,
on foot, many times,
they would bend to kiss the earth
and return, their lean faces housing mystery.

While for certain cousins and grandmothers
the pilgrimage occurred daily,
lugging water from the spring
or balancing the baskets of grapes.
These were the ones present at births,
humming quietly to perspiring mothers.
The ones stitching intricate needlework into children’s dresses,
forgetting how easily children soil clothes.

There were those who didn’t care about praying.
The young ones. The ones who had been to America.
They told the old ones, you are wasting your time.
      Time?—The old ones prayed for the young ones.
They prayed for Allah to mend their brains,
for the twig, the round moon,
to speak suddenly in a commanding tone.

And occasionally there would be one
who did none of this,
the old man Fowzi, for example, Fowzi the fool,
who beat everyone at dominoes,
insisted he spoke with God as he spoke with goats,
and was famous for his laugh

To My Child by Anne Campbell

You are the trip I did not take;
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky.

Forgetfulness by Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Child Moon by Carl Sandburg

The child's wonder
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
To the far silent yellow thing
Shining through the branches
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,
Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!”
And in her bed fading to sleep
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.

A child said, What is the grass? by Walt Whitman

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we
may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe
of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow
zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the
same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and
from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps,
And here you are the mother's laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old
mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths
for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men
and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and
children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait
at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.

All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and
luckier.

Crowning by Kevin Young

{I know that this post is late, but my sister is going into early labor and so I've been helping her with her 2-year-old and I'm headed to my older brother's MBA graduation today, so needless to say: I'm behind!}

Now that knowing means nothing,
now that you are more born
than being, more awake
than awaited, since I’ve seen
your hair deep inside mother,
a glimpse, grass in late
winter, early spring, watching
your mother’s pursed, throbbing,
purpled power, her pushing
you for one whole hour, two,
almost three, almost out,
maybe never, animal smell
and peat, breath and sweat
and mulch-matter, and at once
you descend, or drive, are driven
by mother’s body, by her will
and brilliance, by bowel,
by wanting and your hair
peering as if it could see, and I saw
you storming forth,
taproot, your cap of hair half
in, half out, and wait, hold
it there, the doctors say, and
she squeezing my hand, her face
full of fire, then groaning your face
out like a flower, blood-bloom,
crocussed into air, shoulders
and the long cord still rooting
you to each other, to the other
world, into this afterlife
among us living, the cord
I cut like an iris, pulsing,
then you wet against mother’s chest
still purple, not blue, not yet
red, no cry,
warming now, now opening
your eyes midnight
blue in the blue-black dawn.

Rain Light by WS Merwin

All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning

Making the House Ready for the Lord by Mary Oliver

Dear Lord, I have slept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice - it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances - but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
What shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.

it may not always be so; and i say by EE Cummings

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be -
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

I Do Not Love You by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

The Meyer Lemon by Laura Russon Hansen

mystery, texture
makes you want to pucker up
you are like this fruit

{This poem was presented to my roommate Ashli and me on the occasion of our birthdays in 2009}

Not Easily by Jack Gilbert

When we get beyond beauty and pleasure,
to the other side of the heart (but short
of the spirit), we are confused about what
to do next. It is too easy to say arriving
is enough. To pretend the music
of the mountain needs only to be heard.
That the dance is known by the dancing,
and the lasagne is realized by eating it.
Not in this place on the other side
of desire. We can swim in the Aegean,
but we can't take it home. A man finds
a melon by the road and continues up
the hill thinking it is the warm melon
that will remain after he has forgotten
the ruins and sea of the summer. He tells
himself this even as the idea of the taste
is replacing what the melon tasted like.

Falling: The Code by Li-Young Lee

1.
Through the night
the apples
outside my window
one by one let go
their branches and
drop to the lawn.
I can't see, but hear
the stem-snap, the plummet
through leaves, then
the final thump against the ground.

Sometimes two
at once, or one
right after another.
During long moments of silence
I wait
and wonder about the bruised bodies,
the terror of diving through air, and
think I'll go tomorrow
to find the newly fallen, but they
all look alike lying there
dewsoaked, disappearing before me.

2.
I lie beneath my window listening
to the sound of apples dropping in

the yard, a syncopated code I long to know,
which continues even as I sleep, and dream I know

the meaning of what I hear, each dull
thud of unseen apple-

body, the earth
falling to earth

once and forever, over
and over.

who knows if the moon's by EE Cummings

who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky-filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where

always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

Isaiah 61:1-4

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;
To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.
And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations.

I love this passage! All teaching and preaching should be directed by the Spirit and should be focused on healing, joy and comfort. I especially love the focus on exchanging joy for mourning. That where we have ashes, mourning, and the spirit of heaviness, we may receive beauty, the oil of joy, and the garment of praise.

Beauty, joy, praise - these are tools of nurturing. How appropriate it is that the image then is used of trees of righteousness, "the planting of the Lord." Truly we are the Lord's "pleasant plant" (Isaiah 5:7) and it is with these gifts that we flourish when we are children, and why not as adults?

i thank You God for most this amazing by EE Cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

Every Day is Monday by Ogden Nash

Monday is the day that everything starts all over again,
Monday is the day when just as you are beginning to feel peaceful you have to get up and get dressed and put on your old gray bonnet and drive down to Dover again,
It is the day when life becomes grotesque again,
Because it is the day when you have to face your desk again;
When the telephone rings on Saturday or Sunday you are pleased because it probably means something pleasing and you take the call with agility,
But when it rings on any other day it just usually means some additional responsibility,
And if in doubt,
Why the best thing to do is to answer it in a foreign accent or if you are a foreigner answer it in a native accent and say you are out.
Oh, there is not a week-day moment that can't wring a sigh from you,
Because you are always being confronted with people who want to sell you something, or if they don't want to sell you something, there is something they want to buy from you,
And every shining hour swaggers arrogantly up to you demanding to be improved,
And apparently not only to improve it, but also to shine it, is what you are behooved.
Oh for a remedy, oh for a panacea, oh for a something, oh yes, oh for a coma or swoon,
Yes indeed, oh for a coma that would last from nine A.M. on Monday until Saturday noon.

After Love by Jack Gilbert

He is watching the music with his eyes closed.
Hearing the piano like a man moving
through the woods thinking by feeling.
The orchestra up in the trees, the heart below,
step by step. The music hurrying sometimes,
but always returning to quiet, like the man
remembering and hoping. It is a thing in us,
mostly unnoticed. There is somehow a pleasure
in the loss. In the yearning. The pain
going this way and that. Never again.
Never bodied again. Again the never.
Slowly. No undergrowth. Almost leaving.
A humming beauty in the silence.
The having been. Having had. And the man
knowing all of him will come to the end.

Marriage by Lawrence Raab

Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
What if
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you’d been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
Then she tells him a secret.
She’d been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn’t answered.
Because she felt—
because she was certain—her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
of you.
I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.

Oda a la Tormenta (Ode to the Storm) by Pablo Neruda

{Spanish here.}

Last night
she
came,
livid,
night-blue,
wine-red :
the tempest
with her
hair of water,
eyes of cold fire -
last night she wanted
to sleep on earth.
She came all of a sudden
newly unleashed
out of her furious planet,
her cavern in the sky;
she longed for sleep
and made her bed :
sweeping jungles and highways,
sweeping mountains,
washing ocean stones,
and then
as if they were feathers,
ravaging pine trees
to make her bed.
She shook the lightning
from her quiver of fire,
dropped thunderclaps
like great barrels.
All of a sudden
there was silence :
a single leaf
gliding on air
like a flying violin -
then,
before
it touched the earth,
you took it
in your hands, great storm,
put all the winds to work
blowing their horns,
set the whole night
galloping with its horses,
all the ice whistling,
the wild
trees
groaning in misery
like prisoners,
the earth
moaning, a woman
giving birth,
in a single blow
you blotted out
the noise of grass
or stars,
tore
the numbed silence
like a handkerchief -
the world filled
with sound, fury, and fire,
and when the lightning flashes
fell like hair
from your shining forehead,
fell like swords
from your warrior's belt
and when we were about to think
that the world was ending,
then,
rain,
rain,
only
rain,
all earth, all
sky,
at rest,
the night
fell, bleeding to death
on human sleep,
nothing but rain,
water
of time and sky :
nothing had fallen
except a broken branch,
an empty nest.

With your musical
fingers,
with your hell-roar,
your fire
of volcanoes at night,
you played
at lifting a leaf,
gave strength to rivers,
taught
men
to be men,
the weak to fear,
the tender to cry,
the windows
to rattle -
but
when
you prepared to destroy us, when
like a dagger
fury fell from the sky,
when all the light
and shadow trembled
and the pines devoured
themselves howling
on the edge of the midnight sea,
you, delicate storm,
my beloved,
wild as you were,
did us no wrong :
but returned
to your star
and rain,
green rain,
rain full
of dreams and seeds,
mother
of harvests
rain,
world-washing rain,
draining it,
making it new,
rain for us
and for seeds,
rain
for the forgetting
of the dead
and for
tomorrow's bread -
only the rain
you left behind,
water and music,
for this,
I love you
storm,
speak to me,
return,
awaken me,
illuminate me,
show me your path
so that the strong
and stormy voice of a man
may join and sing your song with you.

The Weight of Sweetness by Li-Young Lee

No easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness.

Song, wisdom, sadness, joy: sweetness
equals three of any of these gravities.

See a peach bend
the branch and strain the stem until
it snaps.
Hold the peach, try the weight, sweetness
and death so round and snug
in your palm.
And, so, there is
the weight of memory:

Windblown, a rain-soaked
bough shakes, showering
the man and the boy.
They shiver in delight,
and the father lifts from his son's cheek
one green leaf
fallen like a kiss.

The good boy hugs a bag of peaches
his father has entrusted
to him.
Now he follows
his father, who carries a bagful in each arm.
See the look on the boy's face
as his father moves
faster and farther ahead, while his own steps
flag, and his arms grow weak, as he labors
under the weight
of peaches.

Doesn't Every Poet Write a Poem about Unrequited Love? by Mary Oliver

The flowers
  I wanted to bring to you,
    wild and wet
      from the pale dunes

and still smelling
  of the summer night,
    and still holding a moment or two
      of the night cricket's

humble prayer,
  would have been
    so handsome
      in your hands -

so happy - I dare to say it -
  in your hands -
    yet your smile
      would have been nowhere

and maybe you would have tossed them
  onto the ground,
    or maybe, for tenderness,
      you would have taken them

into your house
  and given them water
    and put them in a dark corner
      out of reach.

In matters of love
  of this kind
    there are things we long to do
      but must not do.

I would not want to see
  your smile diminished.
    And the flowers, anyway,
      are happy just where they are,

on the pale dunes,
  above the cricket's humble nest,
    under the blue sky
      that loves us all.

Waiting and Finding by Jack Gilbert

While he was in kindergarten, everybody wanted to play
the tomtoms when it came time for that. You had to
run in order to get there first, and he would not.
So he always had a triangle. He does not remember
how they played the tomtoms, but he sees clearly
their Chinese look. Red with dragons front and back
and gold studs around that held the drumhead tight.
If you had a triangle, you didn’t really make music.
You mostly waited while the tambourines and tomtoms
went on a long time. Until there was a signal for all
triangle people to hit them the right way. Usually once.
Then it was tomtoms and waiting some more. But what
he remembers is the sound of the triangle. A perfect,
shimmering sound that has lasted all his long life.
Fading out and coming again after a while. Getting lost
and the waiting for it to come again. Waiting meaning
without things. Meaning love sometimes dying out,
sometimes being taken away. Meaning that often he lives
silent in the middle of the world’s music. Waiting
for the best to come again. Beginning to hear the silence
as he waits. Beginning to like the silence maybe too much.

Bergen, Norway

I'm going to visit my dear friends Inki & Robert who live in Bergen, Norway in May and I was just looking at flikr sets getting excited. I thought I would make a mosaic and show you where I will be on May 15th!

On His Blindness by Milton

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

Personal Revelation (Part 3)

And what does God want to reveal to us?

Confirmation of testimonies born to you

• "Being filled with the Holy Ghost, which beareth record of the Father and the Son" - Moses 1:24
• "[Alma] believed the words which Abinadi had spoken" Mosiah 16:2
• "If he will bow down before me, and humble himself in mighty prayer and faith, in the sincerity of heart, then will I grant unto him a view of the things which he desires to see." D&C 5:24
  
• "the Spirit cried witha loud voice, saying ... blessed art thou, Nephi, because thou believest in the Son of the most high God; wherefore, thou shalt behold the things which thou hast desired." 1 Nephi 11:6

When others bear witness of truth to us (written or spoken), we can receive revelation from God that what they have said is true. Whether this is in the moment of their testimony or in the private moments of prayer, we can receive that confirmation for ourselves.

April: National Poetry Month

In honour of National Poetry Month, I am going to take up the extremely grand effort of posting one poem each day for the month of April (!)*

I know this is pretty ambitious, and for those of you who are not as excited about the poems I post, I will make a special effort to write other types of posts.

Please feel free to share a favorite poem and I'll post it (if I like it haha)! you can email them to me at frannykt (at) gmail

love
kt

*I'll be backposting through April 1st so that we've got one for each day of the month.

The History of Forgetting by Lawrence Raab

When Adam and Eve lived in the garden
they hadn't yet learned how to forget.
For them every day was the same day.
Flowers opened, then closed.
They went where the light told them to go.
They slept when it left, and did not dream.

What could they have remembered,
who had never been children? Sometimes
Adam felt a soreness in his side,
but if this was pain it didn't appear
to require a name, or suggest the idea
that anything else might be taken away.
The bright flowers unfolded,
swayed in the breeze.

It was the snake, of course, who knew
about the past—that such a place could exist.
He understood how people would yearn
for whatever they'd lost, and so to survive
they'd need to forget. Soon
the garden will be gone, the snake
thought, and in time God himself.

These were the last days—Adam and Eve
tending the luxurious plants, the snake
watching from above. He knew
what had to happen next, how persuasive
was the taste of that apple. And then
the history of forgetting would begin—
not at the moment of their leaving,
but the first time they looked back.

Gethsemane by Mary Oliver

The grass never sleeps.
Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.
Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.
Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn't move,
maybe,
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.
Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.

I looooove cookies

Hope is a Tattered Flag by Carl Sandburg

via Reija

Hope is a tattered flag and a dream of time.
Hope is a heartspun word, the rainbow, the shadblow in white
The evening star inviolable over the coal mines,
The shimmer of northern lights across a bitter winter night,
The blue hills beyond the smoke of the steel works,
The birds who go on singing to their mates in peace, war, peace,
The ten-cent crocus bulb blooming in a used-car salesroom,
The horseshoe over the door, the luckpiece in the pocket,
The kiss and the comforting laugh and resolve—
Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.
The spring grass showing itself where least expected,
The rolling fluff of white clouds on a changeable sky,
The broadcast of strings from Japan, bells from Moscow,
Of the voice of the prime minister of Sweden carried
Across the sea in behalf of a world family of nations
And children singing chorals of the Christ child
And Bach being broadcast from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
And tall skyscrapers practically empty of tenants
And the hands of strong men groping for handholds
And the Salvation Army singing God loves us...

This is Love by Rumi

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
First, to let go of live.
In the end, to take a step without feet;
to regard this world as invisible,
and to disregard what appears to be the self.

Heart, I said, what a gift it has been
to enter this circle of lovers,
to see beyond seeing itself,
to reach and feel within the breast.

A Word on Wind by Ogden Nash

Cows go around saying Moo,
But the wind goes around saying Woooo.
Ghosts say Woooo to you, too,
But everybody has heard the wind and few people have heard a ghost,
So it is commonly supposed that the wind says Woooo the most.
Scientists try to tell us that wind is caused by atmospheric conditions at the North Pole or over distant Canadian ranches,
But I guess scientists don't ever get to the country because everybody who has ever been in the country knows that wind is caused by the trees waggling their branches.
On the ocean, where there are no trees, they refer to the wind as gales,
And it is probably caused by whales,
And in the Sahara, where there are no trees or whales either, they call the wind simoom or something,
And it is the result of the profanation of Tutankhamen's tomb or something.
Ill winds blow nobody good and they also blow new hats into mud puddles and voracious clouds of mosquitoes into propinquity with your hide,
And they make your cigarette burn down on just one side.
Some people are very refined,
And when they recite poetry or sing songs they pronounce wind, wined.
Well, dear wined, every time you say Wooooo,
Why I wish you would say it to people who say wined, right after you have said it somewhere where somebody is making fertilizer or glue.