About this time last year, all of the girls in my apartment, including myself, adopted an apartment theme song: Ingrid Michaelson's "Maybe". It has been a year now since those fall days when we used to walk into the apartment in bunches, singing the song and snapping our fingers, blasting it on ipod docks, or laptops. It doesn't feel like a whole year since we used to belt that song so loud our throats hurt, as if doing so could somehow negate or balance out the emotional stresses and struggles of young, single-adulthood packaged with its particular set of worries.
When things didn't go as we planned, when boyfriends broke our hearts, when boys who weren't our boyfriends broke our hearts, when friends passed away, or plans fell through, when days were too hot or too cold, too rainy or too sunny, when assignments kept us up until all hours, when snow came before anybody was ready, we sang,
"Maybe, in the future..."
A few weeks before the end of the semester, we decided to make a music video to "Maybe". The main focus of the video was balloons-- the perfect symbol of maybe. While the video was not professionally made, and had its cheesy moments, the project sparked a lot of introspection about the relationship between having hope and being realistic. We used to talk until all hours of the night about our project, the song, our lives, and the word Maybe. Such conversations helped to teach me important lessons about the future--that it is all just one big MAYBE. Nothing is certain, and that is why Maybe is such a beautiful concept. It is more optimistic than no, and more realistic than yes. It is the perfect blend of emotion that allows for the future to happen as it will. "Come what may and love it" if I may bring Joseph B. Wirthlin into this.
Jack Johnson is known for singing "It seems to me that maybe pretty much always means no." I believe that he is right--yet, he seems to be missing the true meaning of what he is singing: only "pretty much". There is always a chance with maybe. That is what maybe is about--chances, taking them and loving them for what they are.
"You can make a plan, carve it into stone.Like a feather falling, it is still unknown." -Bright Eyes
"Who can say where the road goes, where the day flows? Only time." -Enya
"It came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time." -Death Cab for Cutie
There are dozens of songs written about "maybe" and about the future. This shouldn't be surprising. The future is something that fascinates and frustrates us all in turn. We seem to simultaneously love and fear it because it holds what it offers tightly concealed until the present has been reached. Yet, "maybe" is an important part of everyone's lives. It is a part of my life.
"Maybe in the future" I'll have a good job that will allow me to not worry about money all of the time.
"Maybe in the future" I'll be able to get my business off the ground, and start doing what I love every day.
"Maybe in the future" I'll meet someone who will love me and help me to fulfill all of my goals, and in whom I can take pride.
"The only way to really know, is to really let it go. Maybe, in the future..."
Now all of those roommates have gone their separate ways, becoming wives and expectant mothers, or brides-to-be, pressing forward with education, leaving on missions, or graduating from the University. Some of tomorrow's maybes have become yesterday's realities. Some of the things that were important then are no longer important. Our hearts have been broken and mended, we've lifted each other up, we've seen each other through. We're not disappointed with how our pasts turned out, and are content with our present circumstances.
Yet still, in those moments that life never fails to give out, when we are thrown curves and plans fall through, I hope we'll all always be known as the girls who learned, in the fall of 2009, in a little apartment in Provo, the invaluable lesson to size up the situation, pack away the disappointment, and hum quietly to ourselves,
"Maybe, in the future..."
Today. Because it's beautiful.
Fall is finally here and serving yet again as a simple reminder of how beautiful the world is, and how beautiful our place is in it. I like the look of myself in the world, alongside the sight of leaves falling off of my wind and rain plastered windshield as I pull out of the parking lot.
I went gallivanting about BYU campus today and fell in love yet again.
Campus--with all of the students hurrying to their noon classes, faces careworn with the weight of responsibility, professors being stopped by students in the hall, just to see how things have been since their last meeting--and me. I have no reason to be there, except that I want to be. Just because today is beautiful.
All this going on below, while up above the clouds are brewing and the wind is breaking the stillness of the atmosphere, throwing my hair into my eyes, and hurrying me on my way. I see an old friend, and I smile and wave, as I take the first bite of the most perfect apple I've ever tasted.
Just because today is beautiful. Just because today is today, and I am free to do what I will.
"Don't close your eyes. This is your life, and today is all you've got now. And today is all you'll ever have." -Switchfoot
Provo in the fall. Complete with rain, wind, my best friend, and views like this picture. I know that the world is imperfect, but some days it seems closer to perfection than we give it credit for.
I went gallivanting about BYU campus today and fell in love yet again.
Campus--with all of the students hurrying to their noon classes, faces careworn with the weight of responsibility, professors being stopped by students in the hall, just to see how things have been since their last meeting--and me. I have no reason to be there, except that I want to be. Just because today is beautiful.
All this going on below, while up above the clouds are brewing and the wind is breaking the stillness of the atmosphere, throwing my hair into my eyes, and hurrying me on my way. I see an old friend, and I smile and wave, as I take the first bite of the most perfect apple I've ever tasted.
Just because today is beautiful. Just because today is today, and I am free to do what I will.
"Don't close your eyes. This is your life, and today is all you've got now. And today is all you'll ever have." -Switchfoot
Provo in the fall. Complete with rain, wind, my best friend, and views like this picture. I know that the world is imperfect, but some days it seems closer to perfection than we give it credit for.
Yesterday. Or, On Changing the Past
I have been thinking lately about changing the past, about how everyone always wishes that they could change it, and makes mental lists of the things that they would change if they could--lists that unfortunately do NOT simply gather dust in the corner of the mind, but rather overtake the center stage, and deny time to the simple, beautiful, yet under-rehearsed memories that would better fill that space....
I am grateful that the past cannot be changed. No matter what happens today or tomorrow, yesterday is the only carved-in-stone that there is. Yesterday will always be the same as it was left. Only one's perspective on yesterday can change.
No one can take the past away from you. Love it. Learn from it. Borrow its glowing embers to light today's fire, but leave its ashes where they are. (Elder Holland once said something to that effect in a BYU devotional address.)
Think of the morning after having completed a difficult task--after climbing, and wading, and pushing and struggling through something steeper and thicker than you had felt prepared to climb and wade and push and struggle through. You wake in the morning, and as the memory of what you have accomplished comes rushing in, you snuggle into the covers with a bit more confidence, and push the snooze button with a little less guilt. But, you're wide awake now, you won't be sleeping any more today--because it is today, the triumphant today, complete with all of its blessings bought with yesterday's sacrifice. And no one can change that such is and always will be the case.
(Font sizing variation was inspired by the blog of my dear Cousin, Michelle.)
I am grateful that the past cannot be changed. No matter what happens today or tomorrow, yesterday is the only carved-in-stone that there is. Yesterday will always be the same as it was left. Only one's perspective on yesterday can change.
No one can take the past away from you. Love it. Learn from it. Borrow its glowing embers to light today's fire, but leave its ashes where they are. (Elder Holland once said something to that effect in a BYU devotional address.)
Think of the morning after having completed a difficult task--after climbing, and wading, and pushing and struggling through something steeper and thicker than you had felt prepared to climb and wade and push and struggle through. You wake in the morning, and as the memory of what you have accomplished comes rushing in, you snuggle into the covers with a bit more confidence, and push the snooze button with a little less guilt. But, you're wide awake now, you won't be sleeping any more today--because it is today, the triumphant today, complete with all of its blessings bought with yesterday's sacrifice. And no one can change that such is and always will be the case.
(Font sizing variation was inspired by the blog of my dear Cousin, Michelle.)
Last Paper- Thoughts on Production
I am a Humanities major. As such I have spent many a weary night in front of a computer monitor typing out typical run-on sentences such as:
"Clearly so and so's film seeks to explore the darker sides of life, not interesting itself for more than a few moments on the ephemeral of the every-day, but seeking the Self only found, or so thinks the artist, in communion with the transcendent qualities of nature and her affiliates."
Luckily I've never actually written a paper with such a thesis. But perhaps after Friday I will take a stab at writing some fake papers just to get it out of my system. Not actually saying anything can be a lot of fun. I need to take exercises in it more often.
For now, there is plenty to say for tonight's topic: The dual visions of the wilderness in America, and something about the battle going on between the logical and the Gothic in contemporary American film. Riveting, I know.
The best part of it is, it's my paper, and I can make it anything I want it to be. Just me and a keyboard, such is the technological age in which we live. So marvel in the ability you have to produce, and produce something. It doesn't matter if it makes no sense to anyone else. While you're at it, take the fake topic I just typed out above. Because ephemeral is an excellent word, I learned it from Emerson. THAT guy knew about communing with nature.
So does my little tree.
And this is my last. paper. ever.
"Clearly so and so's film seeks to explore the darker sides of life, not interesting itself for more than a few moments on the ephemeral of the every-day, but seeking the Self only found, or so thinks the artist, in communion with the transcendent qualities of nature and her affiliates."
Luckily I've never actually written a paper with such a thesis. But perhaps after Friday I will take a stab at writing some fake papers just to get it out of my system. Not actually saying anything can be a lot of fun. I need to take exercises in it more often.
For now, there is plenty to say for tonight's topic: The dual visions of the wilderness in America, and something about the battle going on between the logical and the Gothic in contemporary American film. Riveting, I know.
The best part of it is, it's my paper, and I can make it anything I want it to be. Just me and a keyboard, such is the technological age in which we live. So marvel in the ability you have to produce, and produce something. It doesn't matter if it makes no sense to anyone else. While you're at it, take the fake topic I just typed out above. Because ephemeral is an excellent word, I learned it from Emerson. THAT guy knew about communing with nature.
So does my little tree.
And this is my last. paper. ever.
Tree
I recently added a tree to my blog. I realize that it covers up the words. I like the tree, and one day soon it will be replaced with something that I like better that does not cover up the words.
For now...
The tree it is.
For now...
The tree it is.
Lightning Up
So far, these posts have all been quite heavy. I'm not apologizing, I am just switching gears to talk about something different.
Something simple, I guess.
and semi-coherent.
There are beautiful things.
Moments are things, and sometimes there are moments that are beautiful.
"Most moments are beautiful when looked at with the right lens"- Hollywood
If I were a photographer:
I would photograph a story: little words, and a lot of message. Something that people would rack their brain over for hours trying to decipher, coming up with something completely different, and probably better, than my interpretation. Then I would entitle it,
"That Was Kind of a Beautiful Moment".
It would probably be about a shortage of powdered sugar, being resourceful, and culinary failure.
Or a bowl of pasta, a red towel, and a new friend.
Or perhaps three girls in a car with the window rolled down- dry summer lightning.
Or the remembrance of lightning and thunder; something like snow in July within the first moments of waking up- that line between the truly remembered and the imagined.
Then I would subtitled it, "My Week in Abstract Black and White Photographs", set it aside for future generations, and hope that the feeling of anxiety--looking forward, looking back would somehow penetrate through the paper.
That and some abstract laughter.
There really was lightning last night
and I hear thunder over the roof of this building
right now.
Something simple, I guess.
and semi-coherent.
There are beautiful things.
Moments are things, and sometimes there are moments that are beautiful.
"Most moments are beautiful when looked at with the right lens"- Hollywood
If I were a photographer:
I would photograph a story: little words, and a lot of message. Something that people would rack their brain over for hours trying to decipher, coming up with something completely different, and probably better, than my interpretation. Then I would entitle it,
"That Was Kind of a Beautiful Moment".
It would probably be about a shortage of powdered sugar, being resourceful, and culinary failure.
Or a bowl of pasta, a red towel, and a new friend.
Or perhaps three girls in a car with the window rolled down- dry summer lightning.
Or the remembrance of lightning and thunder; something like snow in July within the first moments of waking up- that line between the truly remembered and the imagined.
Then I would subtitled it, "My Week in Abstract Black and White Photographs", set it aside for future generations, and hope that the feeling of anxiety--looking forward, looking back would somehow penetrate through the paper.
That and some abstract laughter.
There really was lightning last night
and I hear thunder over the roof of this building
right now.
For Days When Your Best is Nowhere Near Enough...
A beloved professor of mine once pointed out an interesting principle in human terminology. The phrase "Do your best" seems to have a skewed meaning. Said professor admitted that when he was a kid, and his parents would tell him, "do your best" he always knew that what they really meant was "do THE best".
"So which is it, that seems like a pretty crucial conjunction!"...
There is a world of difference between doing ones best and doing (or being) the best. Take, for example, the following (made up) scenario:
Timmy was SO excited for his first day of Kindergarten. He had watched so many of his older brothers and sisters go to school and come home toting their little backpacks brimming over with intriguingly colored pieces of paper, chewed up pencils, dime store calculators, and "Good Job" sticker plastered homework assignments. Now it was his turn to shine.
"Good luck, honey" Timmy's mother said with a perfect smile. "Now remember, whatever happens, just do your best!"
Timmy wanted very hard to please his mother, so he toddled into the classroom, walked promptly over to the shelf, pulled down a grammar book and proceeded to pour over its pages, thus simultaneously learning how to read and write properly in one fell swoop! But that was just before the first recess! Surely we can expect more than just this simple task from our little protagonist! When he reentered the classroom after having mastered the games of kickball, t-ball, tether ball, and foursquare all in fifteen minutes, he pulled a book of elementary mathematics off of the shelf, and used his newly acquired reading skills to hone his math skills, until he had conjured up a fairly sophisticated (if not world changing) modified quantum model of the atom. Imagine how proud little Timmy was hanging THAT up on the fridge. Surely little Timmy had done his best, and the world all was as it should be.
So many people think that if this does not describe their first day of kindergarten, they must not have done their best. What about a less dramatic scenario, that takes my argument to a different level.
Sally was nervous for her first day of school, but she pulled the shoulder straps of her pink barbie backpack tightly over her shoulders, nodded when her mother yelled "do your best", and marched into the classroom. That day, poor Sally broke four pencils trying to learn to write the letter "A", suffocated the class pet fish, and spilled the contents of her pencil box all over the room. But that was only before the first recess! After fifteen minutes made up of 1.2 seconds of jump roping, .8 seconds of falling, and 14 minutes and 58 seconds of nursing a scraped knee, Sally reentered the room determined to make the most of the next few hours. She made the most of them all right! Those few after-recess hours were more than enough time to be laughed at for singing off-key, dropping the chalk under the teacher's desk while trying to write the never-to-be-mastered letter "A" on the blackboard, and accidentally erasing part of Timmy's great quantum equation that was already on its way to winning the Nobel Prize. (Luckily for Sally, Timmy already had the equation memorized before he wrote it out, so it was no problem for him to write it up again. He wasn't even mad! The very picture of magnanimity!)
So! That means that one of the children did their best and the other didn't, right? I mean, COME ON!!! How can both of the children have done their best, when one graduated from seven Universities with honorary PhD's four days later, and the other finally learned to recognize the letter "A" in the same amount of time? Open and closed case...
Unfortunately, life is not that simple. The tricky thing with humane statements such as, "do the best with what you have" or "not everyone's best is the same" is that such statements carry such profoundly complicated truths in them that we will never fully understand their meaning in this life.
Both of the children may or may not have done their best. What if Timmy purposely left some of the information out of his model because he wanted to be able to claim the prize next year as well. OR what if Sally really did know how to write the letter A all along and she was only selfishly trying to get attention from teacher?
BUT, what if Timmy has an inferiority complex because his older brother has won 32 Nobel prizes, and his mother says that he cannot eat until he gets at least 2? What if Sally is severely neglected at home and does not know proper ways to get attention from others without acting out?
You see, it's even more complicated than what we think! Not only is everyone's best different, but there are not surefire ways of telling from the outside what someone's best is.
To take it even further, an individual's best may vary from day to day. Some days I get to the library first thing and read several chapters and take several quizzes before class. I then go to six hours straight of classes with no breaks, take meticulous notes, and make insightful comments. After that, I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in the library reading assignments, pouring over Spanish poetry and working on research for a long paper. I then go home, eat a healthy dinner, do Yoga, read my scriptures, write in my journal, get ready for bed, send a pick-me-up text to a friend who is having a bad day, and lights out. Wow, I must have done my best that day!
But wait! That's not the end of the story... you say that the next day I am overcome by a bout of depression due to some extenuating circumstances in my life, and I can't get out of bed? Some of my hormones have gone out of whack, and I can't stop sleeping? When I do get up, the most I can do is crawl to the couch and watch movies for the rest of the day, not replying to any e-mails of class-mates asking for help on an assignment? Surely this day I did not do my best. By all accounts, I was an utter failure... but then, what if I did?
I believe in my heart of hearts, that when all is said and done, and this life is over, that we will all be greatly astounded at how many things we had working against us. Physical, emotional, psychological, economical, social factors all fighting for their right to be troublesome against us everyday. In general, do good. If you've made mistakes fix them, make goals, press forward, pray hard, love hard, live life to the fullest... when you can.
But when days come when you're not good enough (as they undoubtedly will), when doing your best means that you open your eyes just ONCE and look upward to the ceiling and mumble, "I am not enough today, make it OK, please!" When that has happened, and your inability to be effective in the world that day has been swallowed up in the love of Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, pull together all that you have and ask, "Lord, how is it done?" (Enos 1:7). And then when you have heard him say, "Because of thy faith in Christ…wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole" (Enos 1:8) go to, and do good, and keep fighting, keep praying, keep loving against odds, and hoping against hope-- and never forget that "because of the life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, [you] may hope and be assured that the ending of the book of [your life] will exceed [your] grandest expectations." (Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “The Infinite Power of Hope,” Ensign, Nov 2008, 21–24)
Stop judging yourself and others. Trust that God loves everyone, and that everything will turn out, because it will.
"So which is it, that seems like a pretty crucial conjunction!"...
There is a world of difference between doing ones best and doing (or being) the best. Take, for example, the following (made up) scenario:
Timmy was SO excited for his first day of Kindergarten. He had watched so many of his older brothers and sisters go to school and come home toting their little backpacks brimming over with intriguingly colored pieces of paper, chewed up pencils, dime store calculators, and "Good Job" sticker plastered homework assignments. Now it was his turn to shine.
"Good luck, honey" Timmy's mother said with a perfect smile. "Now remember, whatever happens, just do your best!"
Timmy wanted very hard to please his mother, so he toddled into the classroom, walked promptly over to the shelf, pulled down a grammar book and proceeded to pour over its pages, thus simultaneously learning how to read and write properly in one fell swoop! But that was just before the first recess! Surely we can expect more than just this simple task from our little protagonist! When he reentered the classroom after having mastered the games of kickball, t-ball, tether ball, and foursquare all in fifteen minutes, he pulled a book of elementary mathematics off of the shelf, and used his newly acquired reading skills to hone his math skills, until he had conjured up a fairly sophisticated (if not world changing) modified quantum model of the atom. Imagine how proud little Timmy was hanging THAT up on the fridge. Surely little Timmy had done his best, and the world all was as it should be.
So many people think that if this does not describe their first day of kindergarten, they must not have done their best. What about a less dramatic scenario, that takes my argument to a different level.
Sally was nervous for her first day of school, but she pulled the shoulder straps of her pink barbie backpack tightly over her shoulders, nodded when her mother yelled "do your best", and marched into the classroom. That day, poor Sally broke four pencils trying to learn to write the letter "A", suffocated the class pet fish, and spilled the contents of her pencil box all over the room. But that was only before the first recess! After fifteen minutes made up of 1.2 seconds of jump roping, .8 seconds of falling, and 14 minutes and 58 seconds of nursing a scraped knee, Sally reentered the room determined to make the most of the next few hours. She made the most of them all right! Those few after-recess hours were more than enough time to be laughed at for singing off-key, dropping the chalk under the teacher's desk while trying to write the never-to-be-mastered letter "A" on the blackboard, and accidentally erasing part of Timmy's great quantum equation that was already on its way to winning the Nobel Prize. (Luckily for Sally, Timmy already had the equation memorized before he wrote it out, so it was no problem for him to write it up again. He wasn't even mad! The very picture of magnanimity!)
So! That means that one of the children did their best and the other didn't, right? I mean, COME ON!!! How can both of the children have done their best, when one graduated from seven Universities with honorary PhD's four days later, and the other finally learned to recognize the letter "A" in the same amount of time? Open and closed case...
Unfortunately, life is not that simple. The tricky thing with humane statements such as, "do the best with what you have" or "not everyone's best is the same" is that such statements carry such profoundly complicated truths in them that we will never fully understand their meaning in this life.
Both of the children may or may not have done their best. What if Timmy purposely left some of the information out of his model because he wanted to be able to claim the prize next year as well. OR what if Sally really did know how to write the letter A all along and she was only selfishly trying to get attention from teacher?
BUT, what if Timmy has an inferiority complex because his older brother has won 32 Nobel prizes, and his mother says that he cannot eat until he gets at least 2? What if Sally is severely neglected at home and does not know proper ways to get attention from others without acting out?
You see, it's even more complicated than what we think! Not only is everyone's best different, but there are not surefire ways of telling from the outside what someone's best is.
To take it even further, an individual's best may vary from day to day. Some days I get to the library first thing and read several chapters and take several quizzes before class. I then go to six hours straight of classes with no breaks, take meticulous notes, and make insightful comments. After that, I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in the library reading assignments, pouring over Spanish poetry and working on research for a long paper. I then go home, eat a healthy dinner, do Yoga, read my scriptures, write in my journal, get ready for bed, send a pick-me-up text to a friend who is having a bad day, and lights out. Wow, I must have done my best that day!
But wait! That's not the end of the story... you say that the next day I am overcome by a bout of depression due to some extenuating circumstances in my life, and I can't get out of bed? Some of my hormones have gone out of whack, and I can't stop sleeping? When I do get up, the most I can do is crawl to the couch and watch movies for the rest of the day, not replying to any e-mails of class-mates asking for help on an assignment? Surely this day I did not do my best. By all accounts, I was an utter failure... but then, what if I did?
I believe in my heart of hearts, that when all is said and done, and this life is over, that we will all be greatly astounded at how many things we had working against us. Physical, emotional, psychological, economical, social factors all fighting for their right to be troublesome against us everyday. In general, do good. If you've made mistakes fix them, make goals, press forward, pray hard, love hard, live life to the fullest... when you can.
But when days come when you're not good enough (as they undoubtedly will), when doing your best means that you open your eyes just ONCE and look upward to the ceiling and mumble, "I am not enough today, make it OK, please!" When that has happened, and your inability to be effective in the world that day has been swallowed up in the love of Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, pull together all that you have and ask, "Lord, how is it done?" (Enos 1:7). And then when you have heard him say, "Because of thy faith in Christ…wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole" (Enos 1:8) go to, and do good, and keep fighting, keep praying, keep loving against odds, and hoping against hope-- and never forget that "because of the life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, [you] may hope and be assured that the ending of the book of [your life] will exceed [your] grandest expectations." (Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “The Infinite Power of Hope,” Ensign, Nov 2008, 21–24)
Stop judging yourself and others. Trust that God loves everyone, and that everything will turn out, because it will.
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