Well, welcome to Grad school

   So, it's Sunday - the perfect day to share a recent paper I wrote for graduate school. The topic given was: Is man inherently good or evil? To answer this prompt, we were instructed to utilize concepts recently discussed in class, and explore the concept of beliefs, morals and values, and reference philosophers/theorists/psychologists mentioned in relevant class readings.

 Sure. No problem. I love writing. And I enjoy researching philosophy, religion, and psychology. So, I began voraciously pouring over class discussion posts, recent reading assignments, and checked out a few additional books to cross-reference. I spent a considerable amount of time on this paper - mostly because the original version was exceedingly longer than the prescribed word count limit thus requiring mass editing. Sure. No problem. I was a professional editor for a marketing company several years ago.

When I finally submitted this paper, confident that it would garner a high-scoring grade as my undergraduate papers did, a sense of satisfaction came over me. The previous two papers I submitted for this class were a bit under my personal standard of perfectionism, mostly due to the adjustment of managing my new life as a graduate student [then] working two jobs. But, they were decent. Yet, this paper...This paper was supposed to be pretty good.

At least, that was my hope.

Alas, my professor disagreed. What I thought would be an "A" paper turned out to be a "C+" paper. Ouch! Needless to say, I was disappointed - not just because I'm a perfectionist, rather because she did not provide feedback as to why the paper was only "C+". And I'm still somewhat unsure as to why the paper fell below the mark as a sub-par piece of work.

Perhaps, I can shamelessly solicit your feedback (assuming anyone ever reads this blog). It's Sunday, yes, but the paper discusses religious topic[s]. ;) I would love to hear what your thoughts are on the quality of the paper, any suggestions for improvement, and any words of encouragement as I start hitting the grad school ground running again on Monday. :)

Please and thank you, in advance.

Enjoy.

(Note: the pictures featured here, on this blog post, were NOT included as part of my paper. just so you know. I included them here to break up the monotony of text.)

---

Is Man Inherently Good or Evil?
By Danielle W.
Psych 505
Copyright 2011

                                                       What are Beliefs, Morals and Values?

To discuss human propensity for good or evil, it is imperative that a foundation for defining morals, values, and beliefs be established. Morals are interlocking sets of values (what one deems important), virtues, norms, practices, identities, and evolved psychological mechanisms that work together to suppress or regulate selfishness and make social life possible. Values and morals together form one’s beliefs which have been influenced by family traditions, customs, religion, environment and other life experiences, and function as a guiding principle for how one conducts daily life.

Early Philosophical/Religious Influences

            The question as to whether man is inherently good or evil has been hotly debated for centuries by theologians, philosophers, and politicians alike. From the early Greek philosophers to early Roman Catholic influence which lead to the eventual Reformation, and later to the Enlightenment to modern-day humanism, the concept of identifying the nature of man in hopes of providing a sense of understanding into both human thought and action, is one that continually endures. Ideas may modify and change through the centuries, but the initial motive remains fundamentally same. To answer: Why do men do what they do? [What is the nature of man?] From where did we come? And what is our purpose?  

Aristotle teaching Plato

 That said, it is nearly impossible, if not illogical, to attempt to explore this without examining both philosophy and religion throughout recorded history. Perhaps, the earliest influences on the subject are the prolific ancient Greek philosophers such as Aristotle who explored this notion at length. Aristotle was, by modern definition, a rationalist.  He, along with other non-Christian philosophers, essentially believed that reality is explainable in rational terms through physical evidence and deductive reasoning – which, in turn, was the only way one could both obtain and increase knowledge. (Schaeffer, 145).  Furthermore, while acknowledging that man is finite in nature, he alone is capable of discerning what is true and false, and “right” or “wrong”, thus determining his own universalities. It was thought that the most important focus for man was man himself, which would ideally create a sense of universal knowledge about the physical world (because rationalists believe[d] that only the physical world exists). This, in turn, gave man power over their natural desires and their fate. However, Aristotle believed that, despite this freedom of choice, it was only available to certain individuals – upper class Greek adult men like himself. With this, even still, human affairs were neither wholly understandable nor explainable. He did, however, believe that our choices were based on – and consistent with - past experiences and habits. (Journal of Religion and Health, 126). And that our two governing principles – desire and reason – were often in conflict. Reasoning was of paramount importance.

Kant

            Interestingly, another well-known Greek philosopher, Socrates, believed similarly that men had the ability to discern “good” from “evil”, but took on a more spiritual tone. For instance, Socrates would not say that a good deed was good simply because the gods deemed it as such; rather it was good because it benefited both the person who did it and the people unto whom the good deed was done. Socrates believed in the notion of moral virtue, and whether it was either taught or inherent. He implied that wisdom was good and ignorance bad (Journal of Religion and Health, 126) but also taught his students that man knew right from wrong but forgot this knowledge at birth and had to be re-taught. Essentially, Socrates taught that man’s conscious was above the law (“free will”), which, unfortunately, led to his eventual death sentence under Athenian order. Even German philosopher Immanuel Kant centuries later endorsed the idea of “free will”. While Kant generally deemed good and evil in more absolutist terms; for example, certain acts such as adultery, murder, and theft are universally evil, he did, however, believe that both virtue [good] and malevolence [evil] (Journal of Religion and Health, 126) lay within an individual’s ability to choose. He, like Aristotle, believed that the basis of all human actions was reasoning; therefore, every choice and action had consequences.

Painting of Christ entitled "Bible Stories"

   Thus, when speaking in terms of what is deemed good or evil, it only makes sense to examine early religious writings and practices and how those ideologies have enduring influences on modern-day thoughts of what is moral [good] and immoral [evil]. Perhaps, the two historically most influential religions were Judaism and Christianity. Early Judaism lent itself to many of the early Christian theologies. Thus, the two religions paralleled each other in several aspects. Eventually, these two religions polarized, however, and Christianity became, in essence, the so-called dominant religion influencing much of papal and political thinking and policies through Europe – and abroad. Two of the first influential men on early Christianity (after the time of Christ) were Augustine and Pelagius. Augustine believed that free will was responsible for sin because it implied one’s ability to do evil, whereas Pelagius rejected this notion believing that, based on the teachings of Christ, people have the capacity to choose; that God would not establish laws or commandments that men were inherently unable to follow because he was, by nature, “bad”. Man has both good and evil in him, hence the ability to choose whether or not to follow God. Furthermore, Pelagius believed that sin was not the result of human weakness; rather man’s agency, thus making man autonomous. This was rejected by the early Roman Catholic Church because it was thought that Pelagius did not fully recognize the importance or the need of grace or salvation, focusing more on humanity’s ability to choose allegedly trumped the power of God.  Incidentally, despite being “damned” as a heretic by Roman Catholicism, many of Pelagius’ thoughts have transcended both time and theology; the Reformation, the Humanism of the Renaissance, the Enlightenment and modern Liberalism – and even major Christian denominations and other religious sects echo remnant ideas akin to what Pelagius proposed centuries prior. (Appleton, 1911). Regardless of the religion, it can be said that there is a shared belief that man has the ability to choose for himself how to act. This is not a revolutionary concept, after all the Bible states: “The commandments that I lay on you this day is not difficult for you…today I offer you the choice of life and good, or death and evil” (Deuteronomy 30:11-15, NKJV). 

Societal/Cultural Views

  The influence of religion on societies and cultures cannot be understated. Regardless of what the major religious affiliation is in a certain region, its historical roots inevitably play an influential part in the cultural fabric of society. Moreover, the concept that people have an innate right to choose for themselves, what is good or bad. We are responsible for our own actions and the consequences of those actions. For instance, in the United States, where freedom of religion is not only touted but practiced, and the separation of church and state is vehemently argued and defended. The fact remains that there are certain standards of “moral” and “immoral” behavior within our society, much of which has been inherited from early religious tenets.  It is universally agreed upon that murder, theft, rape and lying immoral behavior, and even punishable by societal laws. Conversely, characteristics of honesty, charity, trustworthiness, loyalty, and hard work are “good” qualities. This can be said to be in some other societies, as well. Generally, humans, as a whole, tend to agree on certain aspects of what is considered evil behavior versus good behavior. How those actions are interpreted (i.e., punishment for crimes, rewards of freedom for upholding the law), may vastly differ from one society to another, but the premise remains the same. People have the ability to choose their actions, whether they be “right” or “wrong”, and, in turn, are accountable accordingly.

Nietzche

                 That said, despite human tendency to compartmentalize; to say that good and bad behaviors are mutually exclusive is to not only over simplify, but to forget that the two are connected. Even in Biblical times, “good and evil were viewed as connected [because] every person possesses the ability to do either […] According to the Bible, good is not just a value” it was a way of life; it was an active choice to follow a higher standard – or, in this instance, God’s law. Yet, even that is up for interpretation. Even Fredrick Nietzche believe that good and evil  were relative; that those who are good deemed themselves as such by conforming to the so-called “norm”, while those labeled as bad are those who went against the grain. In other words, societal definitions of good and evil, though laced with theological and philosophical hand-me-downs, are, essentially determined by its leaders based on its cultural values which can change as the society evolves (Journal of Religion and Health, 134).  

Psychological Theories

Alas, even psychology cannot fully explain one’s propensity or capacity to perform good or evil acts. While many theorists such as Piaget and Karen Horney, discuss the subject of morality, it can be said that choosing good is not merely part of one’s genetic code, but based on teaching and experiences. People have the capacity to both good and bad for reasons that may, on the outside, defy reason. However, Sigmund Freud, like Aristotle, believed desires tended to override one’s ability to reason; therefore we must learn to how to consciously avoid the prior from overriding the latter.

Is Man Good or Evil?

Summarily, to answer the question: Is man good or evil, the answer is – both. Humans are complex individuals, and good and evil are not black and white. The human experience lends itself to much gray – as we have both good and bad habits. There are myriad factors that play into both human biology and the human experience – whether it is religious teachings, parenting, education, psychological well-being, or cultural/societal influences. In truth, each of these factors impact someone’s ideas and actions. Lest we not forget – one’s ability to choose what is right or wrong is a significant piece of the puzzle. These ideas may change overtime, but the fundamental measure if a person is good or bad is probably best assessed by both their intentions and their actions. Because, again, humans are capable of both good and evil – some more so than others, but we all possess such tendencies nonetheless.

---

Handful of Dust

    (originally drafted 1/17/12)


 I remember this day, 17 years ago, very clearly - so clearly as if it were a running film feed playing automatically on the television displayed in the patient waiting room of the local hospital. Alas, it isn't merely some video; rather, it is real. The reality is that 17 years ago today, momma went from a radiant, vibrant, intelligent, vessel of abundant goodness to a mere handful of dust.

 Her friends and coworkers, even some individuals with whom I've been in contact years later who have heard the story, have inquired as to why momma chose to be cremated rather than buried. Well, my first response has always been: Because that's what she requested! This is then usually followed up with another question: "Why didn't she have a funeral or an obituary?" Again, because mom specifically asked that no fuss be made when she passed away; it's what she requested.

And so I honor[ed] it.

 In the years since then, I have done (and continue to do) what's within my capability to pay tribute to mom life, and focus more on the fact she lived. After all, that's what she would have wanted. She was such a simple, humble soul, that having any sort of pomp and circumstance dwelling on her passing would not be her "style", so to speak. I have had moments when the thought of having a gravestone close by to visit may be nice, so I can visit and contemplate and try to "channel" her energy, so to speak, with regard to particularly arduous situations/experiences.

And that's when I realize being close to momma is not necessarily about proximity (though, it would certainly be wonderful to have that), nor do I need a grave marker to visit to feel closer to her...

What I love about the Gospel (and what attracted me to investigate in the first place) is the concept of Eternal Life. Many religions purport the concept - or at least part of the concept - that death is merely a stage along the way, and that our souls continue to exist beyond the grave. Yet, the Gospel tenets teach that our soul and body are not mutually exclusive. We, beyond the veil, shall have our soul (spirit) be one with our body again in the eternities. And, it won't simply be a body, but a perfected body.

So, while momma's cancer-ravaged body has since been reduced to a velvety gray handful of dust that slipped through my fingers, onto and around the smallest pine tree growing up through the snow-capped mountains of Green Valley Falls, on January 17, 1995.... her unceasingly influential and inspiring spirit will have a healthy, perfect body again on that Triumphant Day.

And knowing this makes me vastly more appreciative for a body that is now, unlike last January, is healthier. And that my spirit is a bit better than it was last January, too. And that, for the most part, the two are working together as a team. Which is a blessing.

Alas, I digress.

Back to the "handful of dust" reference.

So, yes, mom was cremated and I spread her ashes around fledgling pine tree 17 years ago today. I still remember this so clearly. My father, of all people, had come from Hawaii upon my request, and drove my mom's gray Pontiac GrandAm up the windy-twisty mountains to Green Valley Falls. I had wondered why mom requested to have her ashes spread there, but as soon as we arrived it was clear. It looked like a snapshot from her childhood home in Pulaski. There were evergreens and snow everywhere. I walked a few yards and found a tiny, baby pine tree in the midst of towering, majestic pines, and thought: Here, here it is. I can circle this tree with your ashes, and your ashes will help it grow, and then you can grow all over again with this tree - always 'green', always living, and always giving me the air that I breathe [trees give us oxygen, ya know]... Even in death, you'll be living.

So, when my graveyard shift ended at 9:13 a.m. this morning (ironically, the time I was born), I remembered that there's a tree I planted back in April 2003 (April is mom's birth month) in a neighboring park as part of a local cancer awareness endeavor. I walked the mile from my place of work to this park to find that, indeed, my tree was still there - so much taller than it was when it was originally planted as a fledgling nearly nine years prior. And it still has the original accompanied plaque that bears mommy's (and others') name. The tree was - and is - strong, sturdy, and still standing...

I stood there at the base of this tree, and smiled. Then, realizing the bus home would be coming shortly, I blew a kiss and said softly: "I love you, mom. I miss you."

The bus came within seconds, literally, and I thought how interesting; how fortuitous of my teenage self to say back then: "even in death, you'll be living" (especially not having the Gospel in my life then) because it is so true. To this day, 17 years after her passing, mom lives. Within me. 

And because of that, mom will never be a mere handful of dust...A Handful Of Dust (Album Version)

I so deeply wish that those dearest to me could have known mom, but that's an opportunity the next life will bring, I hope... Until then, I like to think mom helps bless not only my life, but theirs as well. After all, that would be so in sync with what she did so often when she was alive on Earth.

the way the sunlight is shining through the trees, in this picture I took two years ago, seems fitting for this post

To my long-lost grandma

  Happy 77th birthday today (January 20), Grandma!

The last time I ever saw you was January 1, 1995.

Less than an hour after momma's sapphire blue eyes went black, and she relinquished her last breath to God;

Playing around with my very first camera, courtesy of grandpa.

I remember your exact words, forlorn and desperate, and the tortured Jenga-esque expression on your pale face. 

You left on a red-eye back to New York that night faster than my brain could register exactly what had just transpired

That was 17 years and 19 days ago. 

---

I wonder about my grandma, the woman who birthed my beloved mother almost 57 years ago.

I wonder about her often; Is she happy? Is she healthy? Is she safe? Is she alive?

Has she finally found the love and acceptance, peace and security she's been longing for...for so long?

Or...

   Does she continue to sequester herself into a secret shell of solitude so as to protect herself from ever getting hurt again? Does she continue to isolate herself from others, all the while crying out in silently deafening pleads for someone to reach out and care, but too afraid to do so because she doesn't quite know how to reach out in return?

Grandma and grandpa, just four months before his death.

  Has she been living the life she hopes for - and deserves to - live, these last 17 years (even without grandpa and momma)?

Or...

  Does she still think that hiding herself away from me, in particular, is really what's best; that she's somehow doing me a favor by being absentee? Does she think that the reason I seek her out, once every few years, is because I want " something" instead of the actual reason - which is, that I genuinely care.

I wonder about my grandmother, the woman I haven't seen since my beloved mother passed away 17 years ago.

I wonder.

---

For so many years, I tried to see where you were coming from and why.

Grandma, a quiet, reserved woman, but she loved her moped.

I've tried to understand your stubbornness, your self-depreciation, your sense of loss, and    self-imposed isolation;

To understand why were always at odd, and butting heads when we had the same goal in taking 

care of momma.

And, I see it's that we were so much alike in that we couldn't bear letting of our anchor 

and our angel

Yet, that was so long ago, and all I can say is...

Happy 77th Birthday, Grandma!

---



And I wonder, if grandma happens to see this, at random, if she'll think to leave a comment here on this blog
I wonder.
Or...
To email me directly.
Does she know that I would respond, without condition or prejudice or expectation?
Have, I, only the best of intentions - yes, indeed, I do.
I wonder if you know that, grandma - do you?
I wonder.

Walks in the sun

  I have about five different blog post drafts sitting on file, but due to one unforeseen circumstance after another, have been otherwise "distracted", if you will.

 On the first of January, I wrote a note to this new year on my Facebook wall. It read: "Dear 2012: Let's be friends, and be awesome together".

 The previous year was exceptionally arduous for a multitude of reasons; it began hard, and ended hard. I was determined (and still am) to make this new year a fantastic one. Even if the odds are against me; I am forging optimistic.

 I told myself that there was no way that January would be as disastrous December. Nope. January has to be excellent. "Let's be excellent", I said to Mr. January.

 And, for the most part, the first nine days of January were okay; definitely an improvement from it's predecessor, Mr. December.

Or, perhaps, it felt okay because I started taking long walks in the sunshine to destress, reflect, and remind myself to breathe. 

 Being out in the sun for about five to ten miles a day definitely seems to make a difference. It helped shine some light on a few things, particularly endowing me with the ability to deem myself worthy of happiness.

 And that was huge. Huge, I say. So much so that my doctor, yesterday, noticed the lighter inflections of my speech and said: "Wow! I can see that you're finally starting to see you matter. And you seem lighter now."

That really meant so much to me. As I walked home from that appointment, in the Monday afternoon sunshine (which is so atypical for a January here where I live, but oh-so-very-much-appreciated), I felt...

Grateful.
Empowered.
Calm.
And, yes, Light.

  Then today, the reality of all the doggone disastrous doosies from December came crashing down, and it took everything I could muster NOT to breakdown.

 So, not knowing what to do, and not having anyone to call for help, I shed some tears and took a long walk in the sun.

  And while it doesn't solve the tremendous trials that continue to bombard me, and the perilous predicament it has thus put me in, it does help.

  You don't necessarily have to feel sunshine-y to walk in the sun, and enjoy how good it feels to follow the Sun, even though today - and tomorrow - may rain.

(note: in case you didn't catch my Beatles reference in that last sentence, here's a chance for you to listen to it.)





 

A two-hour suspension...

I should have written this Friday night, just after it happened as it would have had more impact. Alas, I am writing it at 3:10 a.m. on Sunday...


  Friday.

It was the first day I had off from work in almost nine days, wherein nearly 100 hours were punched in to the time clock. Needless to say, I was running on autopilot - even amid the flu, which made me feel even more foggy and "out of it".

After catching a few moments of tormented sleep, I decided to text my former "pageant mom" to inquire about walking her two doggies. I used to walk them three times a week, on a regular basis this summer, but it had been a little while since my last canine outting. So, around three o'clock in the afternoon, I drove up to Cathy's house to be instanteously created by two excited four-legged balls of furry, fluffy adorableness. They could hardly sit still as I fastened their leash and headed out the gargage to embark on what would turn out to be a two-hour walk. Or, should I say, a two-hour "suspension" of sorts -

 The October air was brisk, and light, and the sun delicate and bright. It 'twas a  perfect day to walk two canine tender mercies, and - for the first time in months - allow myself to listen to music.

 Those who know me, likely know how much I love music. As a three-year-old all I wanted to do was dance to classical Ballet pieces. I was in a community children's choir from age seven to eleven. I began playing the flute at age nine. In middle school, I discovered Beethoven, Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, and began collecting every classical music CD I could purchase with my babysitting money. I performed with the Yokosuka [Japan] Little Theater Group in high school, and picked up the saxophone. Two years ago, my first choreography piece - based on "ah-has" gleaned from a song - was filmed. My last blog post (in February), before starting this new one, was simply a list of songs that personafied my feelings at that particular time. Yes, music is a passion of mine and lends itself to another great love of mine - dance.

Alas, I have not allowed myself to listen to music for months. Intially, its absence was caused by the fact my car stereo blew out and was rendered nonfunctional. And because I never invested in getting the stereo fixed... And because my CDs were still packed from my last move in May, music was not as accessible. (I never thought it possible to endure such a lack of music in my life.) There were a few times where I would go back to my last blog to play some songs listed there, but within minutes it became "too much". Too much emotion flooded over me. So, I quickly discontinued listening to them. My friend Beth asked if and when she would ever hear me play my flute, to which I responded with silence. Picking up my flute after having last heard it played on Christmas day 2010...was far beyond my capabilities. Again, too much emotion was associated with that. (There are only two people for whom I have played exclusive solos on my flute...) 

So, Friday, as I plugged my brand new pair of pink ear buds that connected to my brand new - and very first - pink ipod (which was purchased, on sale, as part of a breat cancer awareness endeavor), while walking the doggies in the pleasantly Fall afternoon, something happened. Little did I know what would happen during my re-introduction to the music-listening realm of life, but it was nothing short of enlightening.

Yes, the first four songs that played on shuffle mode made me cry. I was about to turn the ipod off, when something prompted me to continue listening to lyrics such as:

I don't want to spend my life wasted, jaded. To wake up one day and find, that I let all these years go by wasted.

and

If I could just hold on through the tears and the laughter, would it be beautiful, or just a beautiful disaster? (which, interestingly, was the topic of a psychology of music presentation I gave for a class in February, of which I dropped shortly thereafter).

and

What is it that we hope to find just past that other door? What is it that makes us throw away our contentment, and beg for something more? It's the trust and self-assurance, that lead to happiness which are the very things we kill, I guess.

"WHY", I thought, am I torturing myself by continuing to listen to these songs. Why didn't I download something fun and silly; nothing that would cause me cry - or...

To Feel.

Then, I realized why the prompting caused me to refrain from turning off the music.

Even though your world is torn and shaken. It's waiting for you to awaken, and someday you will. Learn to be still.

And, thus, I found myself waxing philosophical.

In a good way.

I kept walking, with the doggies happily keeping the pace (which is unusual for arthritis stricken Toby), listening to music. And even imagining what some of that music would look like put to movement. I was choreographing in my mind. Something I used to do, but haven't for a while. Too long. I was allowing myself to surrender to the music, and be enlightened - without resistance or rationalization (which Heavenly Father seems to be getting from me - a lot lately. Too much.)

Finally, we ended up at a park. It was the furthest the doggies would allow me to walk them. I sat on the bench, still listening to music - amazed how beautiful the weather was for a late October day. The grass was so vividly green, and the sky so picturesque blue. The air so clear. I bowed my head to pray, while listening, to

Have you forgotten the Heaven lying at your feet? Learn to be still.

The tears flowed.

I felt Godly sorrow.

In a calm way...for a change

Instead of the anxious-angsty-almost-alarmingly-angry way...like I have for some time.

I walked to a swing, gently moving back-and-forth while sobbing, reflecting, missing, longing...and listening to the next song shuffle played into my ears

When you get the choice to sit it out or dance. I hope you dance.

Then, I swang higher and higher. The five o'clock sun's rays shining tangibly yellow in my eyes. And therein time suspended. Reality suspended. And I was shown a few things...

And I was reminded...

How it was [is] to feel a sense of light, airy, magic

How it was
To breathe
To feel

And later, while at the grocery store to pick up garbage bags so as to clean my horrendously messy, disgustingly chaotic room, I was listening to music - and caught moving to DANCE steps by others around me. Noticing, I smiled at them. And I echuckled aloud at their quizzical looks. And then twirld when the music told me twirl.

Yes, I was doing a little bit of choreography in the middle of the store.

Something that, at one point, was not all that unususal for me to do. But, has been so foreign to me for so long.

I so deeply wish that I had a pensive so as to translate both into words and pictures/shapes what I was creating in my head to

:

[Enter mp3 of "Learn to Be Still"]


So, in a brief suspension of time, swinging higher and higher toward that bright sunny ways that reached for me, I was reminded that this "reality" I've been living has merely been wormhole of numbness lately. I have been on autopilot. And here I have been wondering why I feel so lost. so empty. so blah. so not "really here". so practically dead. Hmm...

Quite frankly, it's because I have allowed so many aspects of what makes me "me", fall dormat to the brink of extinction. I have only felt like "me" around the brief, sproadic moments shared with the friend who knows me best. It's probably because it is around that person where/when I am reminded of who I really want to be, and what/who I truly love most...

And I have let too many of those loves go unattended to and unnutured, even ignored and/or nearly forgotten.

Why?

 I am not quite sure how to answer that question in sensical words...

But,

Where is the dance, the writing, the poetry, the creativity /the making of things, the dabbles at art, the taking pictures of pretty things, the playing with children, the laughing with and sharing with those dear to me, and the spirituality, which are the metaphorical and literal "music" in my life.

And I see that an instrument cannot play any music if she is left to collect dust, and thus tarnish from neglect.

And that is what I have, in many ways, done to myself.

I pray often to find the energy to do these things, particularly those of a spiritual/religious nature, only to have an inclination that goes fleetingly away.

"How do I do .... [fill in the blanks]?" It's a question I ask God constantly.

I ask, but I wonder if I ignore the answer because well, it will cause me

To Feel

To feel

What's really Real.

Would it be beautiful, or just a beautiful disaster?

But, wait...

  Just a little over three hours ago, I walked into the care center to work the graveyard shift, undifferent to any other late Saturday night. I was still reflecting upon the afternoon spent having a pair of TOMS painted by one of my favorite people. It was so good to see her. It's amazing how, regardless of circumstance, or happenstance, there exists an abiding sense of care for and connection with certain people. Miss Arteest, designer of my new TOMS, is one of those special individuals to me.

 And so was [is] one of the residents at the care center where I work. For the purposes of this blog, she will be affectionately nicknamed "E.P."

  From the very first day I began working at the care center in June, I bonded with E.P. I knew she was the reason for me to take the job (other than needing another source of income). And she warmed up to me right away. While reading her profile and paper work, there was a literally a "still, small voice" within that confirmed to me that she was [one of] the reasons I was now working at this particular house. We would go on many long walks together, where she would hold my hand tightly and sing heartfully and unabashedly - at the top of her lungs (in her slightly slurred speech) - ol' Gospel hymns such as Go Tell It On the Mountain, along with her favorite Elvis song - Love Me Tender.


[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]

  The neighbors would return her loud out-of-tune yet joyus noise with quizzical and/or perturbed looks. E.P. was blissfully unaware, and continued signing. It would cause me to smile from ear-to-ear, and my heart to melt. "Atta girl, E.P. Atta girl! What a way to make a joyful noise onto the Lord," I'd say to her loud and proud. Her response: "Jesus lives up in the Heavens above the world, Dan-YELL (how she pronounced my name). Huh? Right, Dan-YELL. Yeah, He does." And she would repeat this until she was satisfied with how enthusiastic my "YES!" was, then match it with: "YES!" I would ask her, "E.P. Does Jesus love you?" And an enormous grin on her soft dark face, featuring a sea of missing teeth and sweetly in her Southern drawl: "Yeah, He does. Dan-YELL, Jesus loves all the children. Yeah, He does."

 This scenario would play out anytime I walked, or sat outside with her to watch the clouds. And I never tired of it. No, rather, it warmed my heart and caused me to smile incessantly to the point my cheeks ached.  Typically, I would redirect her repeated comments, as per her behavior plan. Yet, how could I deny a 50+ year-old woman, with a childlike heart, the opportunity to bear her testimony of the Savior? There was no squelching this "grown woman" (as she constantly referred to herself as).

  Truthfully, it wasn't always easy, so to speak, with E.P. She would have frequent outbursts, and need considerable redirection to deter her from harmful behaviors, etc. She would obsess over certain things to the point of fanaticism, fixation, and even force her will (and self) on to others. She had serious uncontrolled "behaviors" as pertaining to her specific health conditions, etc. And, yes, could be a real challenge to "handle". She required a great deal of emotional, physical, and mental energy. Nevertheless, she was [is] dear to me. I just loved her to pieces. E.P. was one of my rays of sunshine in the soul.

 When I tucked her in (upon her request) at night, I would whisper: "Who loves you?" Happily she'd say, in a "regular" voice: "Jesus and you, Dan-YELL." When I would go wake her up in the morning to get ready for the day, she would immediately open her eyes, and with a smile, say: "Good morning, Dan-YELL!" If she misbehaved, she would come to me, hug me tightly and say: "I'm sorry, Dan-YELL! I'll be a good girl for you, Dan-YELL! I love you, Dan-YELL!" "I know," I'd say softly back, "Thank you. I love you, too. You know how you can really show me how much you love me, E.P?" She would immediately respond, loudly: "WHAT?" then a millisecond later say: "BE GOOD! I'll be a good girl for you, okay, Dan-Yell? okay? Okay. I'll be good. Jesus sees everything and loves all the little children of the world."

Yeah, He does, E.P. Yeah, He does.

  There are many poignant reminders and insights gained from working with E.P. And, therefore, it seems so wrong to walk in to find her gone. [But, wait! I wasn't ready!] I wonder if tomorrow I'll find that it was all some belated April Fool's joke; a Halloween hoax. Have I been asleep for a few days, only to wake up and discover the wrong ending in the adventure book? [But, wait! I didn't get to say "good-bye"]. Certainly if this really was a choose-your-own-adventure book, I would have chosen the one set  to the harmonious out-of-tune sounds of Gospel hymns and Elvis Presley songs.

[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]


    I suppose it's silly to become "attached" to a resident, but who denies a blessing from the Lord? Not I, said the fly. And so my tears could not wait, because I didn't get to say "good-bye".

  (I'll sing tomorrow.
And I'll dance on Monday.
But, for now, it'll have to wait.)

file:///C:/Users/Public/Desktop/iTunes.lnk

Water. The perfect anecdote

   Growing up in San Diego, then living in Hawaii and Japan; it only makes sense that I was fan of the water. My mother would joke that part of the reason I was obsessed with The Little Mermaid was, in due part, because I, too, was a mermaid. "You'd live in the water if you could," she said. In fact, when we moved to San Diego, during my Kindergarten year, the reason we moved into the apartment we did was: 1) it was close to all the schools and 2) it had a pool. (thank you, mom!) There was scarcely a day that went by when I did not plead with my mom to let me go swimming. My 14th birthday was akin to a right of passage; I had finally earned the privilege of jumping into that pool without a chaperone. (yesss!) And jump into that pool and do laps is just what I did - nearly every day. All that lapping paid off as I tried out for the high school swim team in ninth grade. Oh, the water. Oh, lest I forget the fact we were in close proximity to several beaches. Mom even worked at place located right on the shore of a beach. Perfect for a water fiend. Even when I had swam so far out into the ocean once - beyond the markers- and received a reprimand in the form of a stingray's lashing, my love for water continued.

 [Sometimes, I wonder why my residence for the past 12 years has been in a state without any ocean...]

Water.

  I even enjoy watching how water flows; from the faucet to watching rivers and water falls to seeing how the slightest movement in the wind can create shapes in ponds and puddles. Water is such a fascinating, powerful yet soothing element. It can go from a solid to a gas to a liquid (which is scientifically fascinating), but it also sustains all life here on Earth in myriad ways.

  And you combine water with the sun (which I also very much love!!!!), rainbows appear!

 Water.


[Enter story here...]

 Well, early this past Sunday morning, while working at the care center folding laundry and drinking my fifth bottled water (I'm trying to get back to my dancing days where/when all I drank was/is water - oh, and to wean myself off a tenacious Diet Coke addiction), one of the residents was watching - of all things, a Christmas movie. "In early October," I thought to myself. I was somewhat less than excited. So, I proceeded to quietly fold laundry and, eventually, found myself unwittingly engaged in this movie. At the end of the movie, the family's house is engulfed by a raging, blistering and merciless fire. The intensity of the flames, and how quickly it destroyed everything this family struggled to earn and keep blew my mind. The fire was so intense. By the time the fire department came, it was too late. All that was left was a hallowed out frayed frame and a pile of black ash that once was a home; a haven for several children. If only the firemen had come sooner with their long, durable, strong water hoses to counteract the flames; what could have been salvaged?

I finished my fifth bottle of water by the time the credits scrolled, and soon thereafter hitched a ride home.

   Now, I am back at work doing the graveyard shift like any other Sunday night/Monday morning. While folding more laundry, and opening another bottled water, suddenly a few metaphors came to mind. I contemplated these, as I proceeded with my work. Yet, the more I did the laundry and cleaned the house, the more symbolic and vivid the metaphors became. It even "forced" (or, prompted) me to stop in the middle of my chores to type this blog entry. I tried to rationalize it, thinking "I'll do it when my chores are through"; however, the concept of "doing what is right at the right time, without delay" is something that I have been  pondering cosiderably for quite some time now (especially the concept of following promptings, promptly) - and was just recently reminded of last Sunday.

 And so, I am typing now what metaphors/connections/symbols about water that have been twirling around in my head.

 First, water sustains every form of life here on Earth - from the fish to the human, making it a perfect metaphor for - and of - Heavenly Father. Granted, this analogy has likely been made long ago, so it isn't an entirely original thought. Yet, it is new to me. God, the Father of our spirits who gave Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer, the power to create the Earth and all the animals and plants that flourish in it. He created the oceans, lakes, rivers, ponds, and all water forms to nurture, sustain us and give us life according to the Father's Divine Plan. He even walked on water to rescue Peter. He even caught nets of fish in the water (where no other could)  to feed the multitudes. He gave His life so that we might live again - and forever - with Him and Heavenly Father. They, together, are our LifeWater. They have the power to force change upon the face of the Earth like the towering tide waves of a typhoon, but have the calming, soothing, refreshing, and life sustaining qualities to quench our deepest thirst. Like the ocean houses a slew of wondrous, beautiful, unique creatures, so are They to us. Essential for survival. And so, it isn't any wonder why we can go only a few days without water; we need it - and the Godhead - for every life sustaining benefit it and they provide. In essence, they are essential to our lives. We cannot afford to live without them. Again, the Godhead is our LifeWater. (Perhaps, that why it feels so invigorating to shower after a long day of exertion, labor, and worry. And to sit in a cool pool after a sweaty, hot day. It is much like how it feels after receiving His help with a trial - refreshing,relieving and rejuvenating.)


   Secondly, despite the immense power that fire beholds; how quickly it can consume something and thus destroy it.  Fire is no match to water. Surely, fire can start with the slightest initiation; abruptly and arbitrarily it blazes speedy trail engulfing as much as it can to grow larger, stronger, and more powerful until all you can see is an amass of red-orange-yellow-blue flames. And a variety of elements can further instigate the fire's fury - oil, grease for example. Yet, water, a cool, clear liquid substance that seems so simple (because we use in it countless ways daily), can cause a fire to die down, and - with enough water - it can even squelch a fire entirely. This reminds me of Heavenly Father's power to dispel and conquer Satan. Lucifer, the ultimate deceiver and destroyer, with the slightest provocation can - if we let him - engulf us in flames, and those flames can burn quickly in vast directions reaping a long, wide field of mass destruction. If we do not call upon our proverbial 'LifeWater' to help us pull out the water hoses (i.e., prayer, hymns, scriptures, the Holy Ghost - the GOSPEL) to put the fire of Satan out - and do it quickly, we, our soul and spirit, can be akin to that scene on that movie - a hallowed out frame with piles of blackened ash.

  Now, I see (or, am reminded as it were) that is not enough to just  build within our hearts a sturdy, steady, safe, strong, durable home for HIM in our hearts. Our entire being must be a literal tabernacle where the Godhead resides. (hmmm...the concept of our "body is a temple" is taking on even more meaning to me). And we mustn't give Satan any reason to stir up a raging fire of destruction within us that we, suddenly, are no longer a home in which the Spirit of God can reside. Though, fortunately, because God is so good, if this does happen, we can - like that struggling family with limited means did - rebuild a stronger house (with the help of loved ones and especially) with the love of He Who First Loved Us. Water, like HIS Love, can extinguish any fireball that Satan throws or just even the overwhelming fire that "really hard, hellacious life stuff" erupts. Yet, we must partake of it. He can lead us to that water, but we must actively drink.

Water, like Him...
Is
The
Perfect
Anecdote.

Seems so simple. Drink of the waters of God and we shall live. And live well.

 Alas, it is not always as easy to remember and apply, than it is to say/write. I have found myself, for far too long (it seems) begging and pleading emphatically for Heavenly Father to pour His Love upon me, and thus thwart the fiery darts of Satan. And I realize that this well of water has already been built so as to retrieve this life sustaining, soothing, calming, refreshing, saving water. Yet, I must tie a bucket to a rope, attach it to the rod, take hold of the lever and pull up to scoop the water up from within the well in order have a cup full  to drink. He has provided the water. But, I must seek after/ for the water to fill my bucket. This  means that I cannot simply pray, pray, pray harder, prayer longer, pray more, pay longer, pray still. I have to proactively follow and do all the steps it takes to receive a fullness of His outpouring of  love and blessings - that metaphoric 'Water'.

(then, why is it that sometimes it is so hard for me to follow/do this?)

Hmm. I think I'm needing to go refill my water bottle up again right now. I'm thirsty.

Literally.

And figuratively.

Oh, yes, and resume finishing my chores before the shift is over, and it's time to go home.

(see isn't water. and symbolism. and God. Awesome?)

(!!!)---> By the way, speaking of Water - here is Handel's piece entitled "Water". I thought it was fitting to share, considering the blog topic. Enjoy! music rocks.

Handel - Water Music  download at emp3