For Days When Your '98 Toyota Corolla is Nowhere Near Good Enough

I recently had an experience which I shall refrain from expounding upon here... It will suffice to say that the feelings the experience stirred in me were a sound mix between frustratedly revengeful, and haughtily daydreamy. Not a good place to be, my friends. As I walked out to my car in such a state, I could not help but feel acutely aware that neither my attire nor my car were suited to the occasion.
It was one of those moments where you wish... no, it was more than a wish.... it was like a deep-down starvation for some Yves St. Laurent coat that may or may not even exist (keeping in mind that all of this is in my head, so whether or not Yves St. Laurent makes a coat like the one I'm imaging is beside the point) and a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses, equally as potentially non-existent. It was one of those moments where I felt like I should be climbing into some brand new Porsche Carrera GT (Ok... I just googled "Most expensive Cars in the World" and this was Number 10. It was the prettiest on the list.) being careful not to chip the paint with the heels of my black stiletto Gucci boots, looking in the rear-view mirror to reapply my H. Couture Beauty lipstick from its diamond studded 18 kt. gold plated tube, and then pealing out of the parking lot, letting the smoke from my tires clear just long enough for anyone left behind to be able to read the license-plate frame engraved with the words, "Don't hate me because I'm pretty. Hate me because your boyfriend thinks I'm pretty."
Alas! the moment did not quite play out like it did in my head. In fact, the most poignant memory in this whole little fantasy was an acute awareness that the crunch in the rear bumper of my '98 Corolla did not fit into the moment very well.
Either that, or it made it all the better. Even in retrospect, it's hard to say.

p.s. The car actually belongs to my parents, not to me, and the crunch was there long before the car came into my family. I am grateful for it... and my new red sweater from Kohls, which I actually was wearing at the time.

Just Because I Have Fingers

I was trying to be cool. I had this blog posting all figured out. I was going to write a blog post on the past, on the present and on the future, and then I was going to write about "Seeing in all Directions at the Same Time". Well. I've been working on that post for weeks now. It is hefty, and I have things to say that I'm not sure I'm ready to say yet.
But I am ready to say this:
I love life.
This fall has been beautiful.
My family is wonderful A) because we're forever, and B) because we're going to stay that way.
Making new friends is like opening a window in your house that had been completely covered and letting in just that much more sunshine. There is always someone new to be friends with. That's a lot of windows.
Ducks are weird animals, but I love feeding them.
Our bodies are amazing. They're kind of perfect, when you think about it.
Music is one of God's most powerful reminders that he loves us.
No matter how boring life seems, there is always something exciting waiting for us, even if we can't see it.
I have all of the knowledge that I need to be happy right now.
Mom made homemade pizza for dinner, and though I was too hungry to heat it, it was amazing even cold.
The snow is coming.
Thanksgiving is next week, and it is going to be amazing.

I am saying all this, not because it's November, but because I have fingers.

"To See in All Directions at the Same Time"

"When the veil which now encloses us is no more, time will also be no more (see D&C 84:100). Even now, time is clearly not our natural dimension. Thus it is that we are never really at home in time. Alternately, we find ourselves impatiently wishing to hasten the passage of time or to hold back the dawn. We can do neither, of course. Whereas the bird is at home in the air, we are clearly not at home in time—because we belong to eternity! Time, as much as any one thing, whispers to us that we are strangers here. If time were natural to us, why is it that we have so many clocks and wear wristwatches?" -Neal A Maxwell "Patience" 1979

I belong to eternity. I want to be able to understand everything: the past present and future, in terms of one moment. I want to be able to see a moment and how it will affect and was affected by other moments long past or still waiting in the wings. I want "to see in all directions at the same time."

Alas! that is not the way of the world. It is the human condition to be forever limited in our scope, our world view, our connections with all people and things that exist outside of ourselves. It is not even possible for us to fully comprehend the elements of our own personalities. Our emotions, reasons, motivations, hopes, dreams, fears, etc. are all elusive to our perception.

Most of the time.

Every now and again, there are moments of profound insight. It is as if some thick drape were pulled aside for a nanosecond; a period of time too short for full-comprehension of the concealed, but just long enough to testify that there is something brilliant just beyond. Once we have seen it, we never cease striving to see it again.

For all of the days that the drape is pulled tightly, that there is nothing ahead but some all-too-familiar darkness, and a little hope that things are going to change, I will never stop wishing that I could open my eyes to see in all directions at the same time. It is in trying to comprehend the outside world, my own nature, and the relationship between the two in terms of yesterday, today and tomorrow that life becomes more than what I give it credit for most of the time. It becomes many times less complicated, and simultaneously many times more complex than it seems at first glance. So I will glance a second, and a third time, and on and on until I finally understand. Though I have every confidence that such an understanding will not be possible until I have learned to walk some brilliant hall of eternity in the eons of some time that exists outside of time. Not until I'm back in my native element.