Superhero

I lean back in my chair, head cocked to the side, confident and full of myself; pretending I am a superhero. I lift one eye brow with a slight grin. 'I can do anything' I whisper to myself. 'Because I'm a freekin' superhero! And superheros have super powers.' I grin widely.

But then I glance back at the computer area in front of me; papers scattered about, bits of old projects left unfinished on top of the printer and left on and around stacks of CDs. Around my feet lay wires tangled with themselves from old and broken parts of who-really-knows-whats. I'm not really smiling anymore.

Among the heaps of junk and potentially useful items is a College catalog with course listings. I let out a sigh and sit back in my chair normally, snatching the book out from under a pile of old art work. I flip it open to some papers stuffed into the pages. Enrollment papers for the coming semester. 'I want to go to school', I tell myself, in a less than convincing voice. Barely audible. I stare at the book for a bit but then I toss it back onto the pile, and set to work on getting rid of some of the mess.

I shuffle through some papers lying on the desk. I look back at the computer screen, and see a face smiling out at me. It's the face of a baby. Amy. She's only a month old. Her little face smiles out of the computer screen, the rest of her body wrapped up warmly in the embrace of her father. His face smiling along side hers. I put down the papers and look at the picture on the screen. 'Hi Amy.' I say. My heart begins to ache a bit. It must be so comfortable there, in her father's arms. He's got a hold of her snug and tight. You can tell he's not going to let go of his little girl any time soon. How peaceful it looks to be a part of that picture. 'I want to be a mother', I begin to say, less audible than before.

I bookmark the page, and close the window. Why was that painful to look at? I decide to change rooms and I go get the papers I left with my church books. I begin leafing through and find the notes from church I took earlier this morning. Notes about being kinder to people, and about what faith really is, and about what separates hope from belief. There on the corner of one piece of paper is the scribbled words 'Note to self: Go on a mission'. There's so much that intrigues me about the gospel. I believe it. I want to share it with people. 'I want to go on a mission', I say. But am I too scared, I wonder?

I continue working on recording the notes in other places so that I can throw out all the bits of paper that have been collecting over a period of much-too-long. But I don't know how to throw some of them out. Some of them are pieces of art work, swirls and lines, shaded pictures mixed in with my notes. How do I throw those out? They aren't exactly masterpieces, but they aren't exactly transferable to some other place, and I still want to keep them. After a while, I stop. I go back to the computer chair by the window. I'm not interested in sorting papers anymore. I'll leave that for some other time. When I care more. Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I'm ADD. Then again, maybe I don't care if I'm ADD.

But, what do I care about? I wonder to myself. What do I want to do? I've got a job. I work at a daycare. I could keep working there. But for what? But I don't really want to work there anymore. Working there isn't what I want to be doing in a few months. Maybe it's because I am not dedicated, and I just don't want to do something I'm not enjoying, or maybe it's because having worked there has made me dislike children, and I think that is wrong. So I ask myself again, 'what do I want to do?'

'I want to start a business', I say, half wishing someone was listening so they could give me some sort of motivation. It would be amazing to change the world in some way through a business I created. The truth is, I want to begin changing the world through my efforts to help people. I want to help people all over the world. 'And I want to travel too'. I hear the words come out, but by the time they are out, my mind has already moved on. I want to travel, but what about all the other stuff I want to do? Do I have the guts? Do I know what's coming? Can I do any one of these things and not miss out on the rest?

I sigh. I lean back in my chair, and cock my head, looking out the window. 'I want to be a superhero', I say. This time I can barely muster up the words. 'Maybe then I'd have the guts to try something. Anything. Even if it was just finishing clearing up this messy room. I'd do something exciting. After all, I'd have super powers.'

But nothing changes. The leaves aren't even rustling in the wind. It's all the same. Same as when I looked out the window the first time. And I'm not a superhero. I don't have super powers. And I can't bend the rules.

I sigh again. I wish someone would push me in some direction. Then I wouldn't have to choose and come up with my own motivation. I'd just have to keep the momentum.

I get out of the chair, and begin cleaning the papers off the desk. Frustrated, and weary I trudge on, hoping somewhere in the mix and confusion of it all, someone will save me from the fate of the unfortunate soul, born as a regular. Not a superhero... Not even a sidekick... Not super at all.

Webs of Power

I look up and see my own reflection in a borrowed mirror. The reflection is not smiling. The thought passes through my consciousness that my feelings at this moment, and all my accumulated thoughts are insignificant. There are billions of other people on this Earth at this precise moment, many of them staring at their own reflection, and all with complicated emotions. All of them insignificant.

But as I stare at myself, a new perspective shifts into view as though I were taking off a blindfold. It's a simple thought, but it changes everything. I begin to smile at my reflection. For the revelation I have just discovered will affect everyone around me. And the revelation is this: Everything I do affects those around me; they in turn affect everyone around them, and those affected affect others and it goes on until I have managed to affect the entire world. Day after day I unknowingly affect others, and unknowingly I consent to being affected by those around me.

As I look in the mirror, a thought of intricate webs, thorough connections and unseen paths of energy compel me to smile. If this is all it takes, why not give it a try?

What a strange new world of responsibility and freedom as I stare at my own reflection... because in the exact same way that my face reflects in this borrowed mirror, my smile may reflect in the eyes of those around me, and maybe we won't be so insignificant after all.

Womanhood Rant Continued...

Not too long ago I posted a blog entry entitled: "Womanhood Rant". After reading my post, my adopted uncle Mark sent me an article that I thought some people would find interesting (Hawley, you commented on my rant so I thought you might like this second opinion... It's been here for a while stagnating). You can read the document here if you want.

In response to the article he sent, I wrote him an email that I would like to share:

Firstly, I am at peace with the issue of womanhood and content to sort it out myself, by saying this: Both man and woman are equal. It is more complicated than that though, so I will explain.

Both man and woman are equals; individuals and partakers of this challenge that we call life. Both genders have roles and the individuals strive to grow, develop, learn and teach. Both are trying to be the best they can be. People will be much less likely to confuse their personal worth with their roles, after the individuals are considered and presented in nonjudgmental ways, free of biases and understanding that it is ok to have feelings, needs, desires, successes and failures. We will be ready to accept ourselves for who we are, no strings attached, nor having this need to feel jealous of the other gender or feeling a need to take on the other's role. We will be ready to take the next step, which is to accept the responsibilities such as priesthood and the correct and worthy, authoritative use of it; and womanhood and the gift of nurturing, creating and moving lives. But that's after we see ourselves for WHO we are instead of WHAT we are... We are first individuals, and secondly, we have roles.

These people, whom I have been among, have become confused about who we are, and how to accept ourselves, first as individuals, because we confuse our worth with our roles, instead of understanding that the divine God chose to love us as we are, no matter what, and that because he loves us, he gave us these gifts of gender and roles.

If that idea were explained, then a lot of this confusion would disappear, but I also think it would be nearly impossible to explain this to someone. I mean how can I explain to someone that they have worth? They have to feel it. They have to discover it themselves. I've tried to explain to people how they have worth in and of themselves but they can't grasp it unless they feel it themselves. So how could I expect anyone to satisfy my desire for this explanation, when the explanation is wanting? There is no way I am aware of to explain a feeling to someone unless they have previously experienced that feeling.

The main confusion between genders is based on the confusing belief that roles and responsibilities are of higher priority than individual needs and worth.

We all make mistakes and we all learn to try.

Both man and woman are equal because we are all human.

Change

Change is always inside of us, no matter how much we desperately want to curse, blame or give credit to our surroundings or environment.

A little while back I had a moment of different feelings that I have never felt before. It was so distinct. The feelings were simple. “There is such a change coming your way that you will take leaps where you took baby steps before.” And I didn’t know what to do because I was driving a vehicle at the time, and when something that direct and that blunt hits you that strongly, the first impulse is to stop, stare blankly, mouth agape and just sit in shock, but I can’t exactly do that while driving a car. Instead, I pressed the gas harder and stared wide-eyed ahead, a smile forming on my lips and no words to express. It was such a huge feeling of excitement that washed over me that I sped my vehicle WAY over the limit for quite a distance before I came to again and realized how much over the limit I was going.

And for a while I held the thought in the back of my head, and said nothing to anyone. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Because maybe I had just dreamed it, maybe it was just the sunshine, maybe it was just my imagination. But here I am and over and over I am finding myself staring at a ladder that is leaning against the very walls that not long ago I stared at and saw as obstacles.

The change is in me. I am what’s changing. The ladder has always been there, but I have never seen it before. Now I see the ladder and I see a way over the walls and as it becomes clearer that it is this opportunity to climb the ladder over the wall that I am supposed to take. It is this change, in these future moments. I battle the fear inside and take a step closer to the ladder, and as I do, I feel such joy!

It’s so exciting to see the path laid out ahead of me like this. For so long it’s been a path that has lead to a wall. But now I see that there is a way over the wall and my journey is opening up. The path is leading to the ladder, not the wall, and I couldn’t see that before. The wall is fear, and the ladder is courage. The other side of the wall holds so many frightening experiences… exciting experiences. To hold back would be stupid. The opportunities are endless once I cross this wall. This is what I believe it is like to fly. This is what it’s like to have change.

Mind Games

There's a part of me that wants to sit down and write everything that's been playing through my head. And almost literally it has been playing through my head, like a movie re-run on the stage of my imagination. Scenes from past events, current events, and future experiences; they run over and over and make me dizzy with confusion. And I want to just sit down here and let my fingers take on the role of the script writer, flying over the keys into the world of stories and make-believe, hoping that some sense will come of my desire to express myself.

But there's another part of me here too, that says (firstly) "Sera, you ought to be asleep right now, what on EARTH are you still doing up!?" To which I have no reply. No satisfactory answer. All I know is that I'm not following a schedule or logic for that matter, and instead I sit here waiting for a thought to strike me as though I were waiting for lightning to suddenly pierce my thoughts and thereby provide the answers to my quarries. And so this second half of me sits here scolding myself for siting here without understanding or reason for doing so. None that can be explained anyway. Not by logic to that half of my brain that is demanding those answers.

I've had this happen before. I've had feelings, and reasons I thought one way, that I couldn't figure out, and I knew there were reasons but I was left unable to give any reason at all for them. Later on of course, much further after the opportunity to have done something about the feelings, I found myself in a quiet room pondering when suddenly the thought hit me and I realized what the source was, and the reason for the feeling. But by then it was much too late. The person I was speaking to had probably forgotten the conversation, and was on to other more noble efforts, while I stewed on the thought at hand. And so here I am trying to come up with a reason for that half of me that is demanding a sensible answer. And I just don't have an answer.

So now I have a dilemma. I've got one half of me saying "Express yourself and find answers" while the other half says "Go to bed before you say something you'll regret"... meanwhilst I recognize that I've chosen the path directly in between. I've sat down as if to begin expressing myself, but have not allowed myself one word about how I'm actually feeling. Instead I've side-stepped the whole issue.

Which makes me think a little bit here about the phrase that I've come to adopt "How you do one thing is how you do everything." I agree fully, and now if I support that quote so whole-heartedly, I must take a moment to consider that indeed, I live life like I have done this one thing. Which is true. Here I have ridden the line in between going and staying, in between jumping in and sitting on the beach, in between yes and no. And I live life like that. I now realize that I live my life by the word"maybe".

I think I should change that. But for now it's time for bed. I'll have to say what's going on in my head at some later time. Maybe once I've done some figuring out. But shhhh... My favourite re-run is about to start, and I don't want to miss it. I might find the answer this time.

Question of Perfection

The question of the evening is: What makes something perfect?

I realized that there is either no such thing as 'perfect', or every single thing is 'perfect'.

Imagine looking at a bowl of soup, and wishing you had something to use to get the soup out of the bowl and into your mouth without getting your fingers or chin mucky. Then imagine a perfect utensil for this job. Maybe you think of a large straw, or a spoon of some sort, or an elongated bowl or something. Well each of these things would be useful and one of them would likely work best, and in this situation, it could be labeled as the 'perfect' utensil. But then imagine the same utensil in a different situation. Now you've got a spoon or straw etc and you've got a plate of spaghetti noodles. 'Now what?' You ask yourself, as you try to get just one blasted noodle onto that spoon. Now, is that spoon still perfect? Yes it's perfect for the soup, but we aren't staring at soup anymore... So is the spoon perfect?

If we say 'yes' the spoon is perfect even though we are staring at spaghetti, then it would not be a huge leap of logic to assume that most if not all things are at some point 'perfect' somewhere or sometime else in this world, but perhaps not here or now. Yet on the other hand if we say 'no', the spoon is not perfect as we stare at spaghetti, then it would not be a huge leap of logic to assume that there is nothing that is perfect in the world because we can always find at least one situation where in the object would not be useful or 'perfect'. It is a matter of perspective as to whether you say 'yes' or 'no', and that is what makes the spoon perfect or not. It's a matter of timing, opinion, and the ultimate goal.

Timing:
At one point in time my shoes were perfect. A perfect fit, and perfect comfort and perfect style. Now they are worn, dirty and frankly imperfect. At one point in time the bow and arrow was the perfect weapon, now outdated, guns are preferred for hunting. Timing helps decide when something is perfect or not. So perhaps everything is perfect, somewhere and sometime in the world, but just not right there or right then.

Opinion:
Priorities and goals of different people also conflict in the quest for perfection. One person may deem some project or invention perfect, but that's according to their standards, and to another it is imperfect because of the standards they have set out for it. Opinions affect the final say of whether something is perfect or not because who or what is to say whether or not something is perfect unless it has some sort of observer to say so.

The ultimate goal:
And of course, who or what can to say that something is perfect unless there is something to measure it against such as a goal or an ideal. Otherwise there are just things in this world with no particular greatness or value to them other than the mere fact that they exist. The ultimate goal of the creator of the object/invention says whether or not the object is perfect, judging between its beginning vision and end product.

And if we present something that is perfect for a job, useful in every function, and then add to it, does that make it imperfect compared to when we started? My opinion is that no, I think not. Because, at the time of its first presentation, it was appropriately perfect for that time, but as time goes on, I think there tends to be a greater need and therefore has the potential to be perfected again. Like a hairdo. One is perfect for school, whereas another hairdo is perfect for a luncheon with the Queen of England.

Forgotten Lessons

Hello. My name is Sera. I pronounce it "Sarah" though. I can spell my own name now. My middle name is harder to spell. I went to kindergarten once.

I remember the big blocks we used to play with. I played with Jeff and we made dinosaurs out of the blocks together. The dinosaurs were as big as I was. That was the first time I was told that I should clean up after myself. We had a lesson on it. I remember the blue frilly shirt mom picked out for me to wear and the pink clothes with skirts that I don't like anymore. I remember the fake food we would pretend to eat during play time. The teacher told us not to really put them in our mouths, because of tiny invisible things called germs or something. I remember using little stuffed animals and tiny kid-sized pillows to sleep on when they turned out the lights. I was usually the only one awake during nap time. I never slept very well. I remember my favorite white bear that I took to nap time with me, and I remember other kids fighting over the rest of the stuffed animals. I cried when kids called me mean names.

Things were so much easier back then. When I was small.

If someone stole my toy or pulled my hair, I could go cry. It was so simple. It would make it all better... After the teacher scolded them, of course. If I had a runny nose, I could wait until the teacher gave me a tissue paper to wipe my nose with, and that was okay. If I fell and scraped my knee, it was okay to cry about it, and the teacher would help me up and take me to the sink and wash my cut and put a bandage on it. And it was not a bad thing to feel hurt back then. It was okay to cry. It was normal.

But I can't solve my problems like that now. Problems are so much harder today. Grown ups don't like it when others cry. I think they don't know what to do because they're all the same height. They're the same size now as the teacher was back then, back when it was okay to cry. They don't know if they should be like the teacher and help people up, and clean their cuts, or if they should be like any other kid from class and cry along with them. After all, we are all the same height now. And instead, in the middle of the confusion between being teacher or class mate, they usually leave, not sure how to deal with what they left back in the room. And the other tall person is left where they were, feeling sad, and still crying, and now a little ashamed that they cried in front of another tall person.

Did I miss that lesson somewhere? The one that told us kids that it's still okay to cry, even when we grow up? Did someone forget to tell me that sometimes people need a hug when they cry, because we all need to feel? Did the teacher just not know that people need love and care, even when they are all grown up? Did she just forget to tell us? Or did her teachers not tell her that if she scraped her knee, it's okay to cry? And that it was normal?

Well, I must have missed those lessons. But I've found out through my own life that sometimes teachers don't know everything. Sometimes nobody knows anything, and all we have left is our feelings, and all we are, is confused little kindergarten kids. Someone out there should let us know that it's okay to feel lost and confused and that it's okay to cry. Someone should tell us that it's still normal.

I am someone.

It's okay to cry.
It's normal.

I think they forgot to tell us that.

Darkness exists due to the absence of light.

I must have been fairly bored to be staring at my hand so intently. The way the light hit it just so.... I’m sure I looked equally odd when I held my hand still and moved my head down to get a look at the shadowy underside of it. But luckily no one was in the room, so there was no witness to my odd behavior.

It was about that point when I came to a conclusion about light and darkness. Here is an observation, which can be seen at any point in time by any person with access to the sun, a candle or even a child’s plug in night light; it’s not new information. I relate the metaphor to life. Light being anything that uplifts and makes one to feel better in the long term. Darkness being anything that depresses and makes one feel worse in the long term.

Here is the metaphor.

You can light a candle or lamp or turn on a light in any dark room, and the result is a spreading of light through out the whole room, the brightness of the light depending on the power behind the source. Light spreads in all directions, insistently outward, bouncing off the white walls, traveling quite a distance into and around the room, and reflects off of mirrors. In this way, light is shared and spread all over. The light naturally disperses everywhere, lighting everything it can reach.

But these qualities are not reproducible with darkness or shadow. A shadow or darkness cannot spread every direction through the room by lighting a ‘dark’ source, or bouncing off the walls or reflecting in a mirror. Darkness doesn’t spread itself or naturally disperse like light.

I looked at my hand and noticed that the light is only blocked in small areas by objects, and that that is what causes shadow. The light source is there, and then the object blocks the light source's reach to a certain area. That's what darkness is. You can't burn a dark candle, and make a shadow light. You can block the light to small degrees by placing objects in the way of the light, but shadow and darkness does not spread like light. You can have a singular shadow from an object, but there is no type of burning, spreading darkness.

There is one more piece to this. And that piece is that candles, or any light needs a source or fuel. It needs energy or fuel to keep it going. The only power the darkness has over the light besides blocking portion of it's reach, is the power of giving up or drying up. When the fuel runs out or the source dries up, there is darkness. So if we continue striving, hoping believing and trusting, we have power over the darkness, but as soon as we give up, darkness can take over. Other than our own hope drying up, light and goodness prevails.

This is the metaphor I came to realize while staring at my hand. Oh the things we think when we are bored. And yes, I am very glad for the blessing of every once in a while, having nothing to do, being bored enough to stare at my own hand and the light casting shadows on it.

Becoming Identical vs. Becoming Unified

Please read Ryan's orriginal blog, which others of you can read here, because then I think this will make more sense... I figured I should write my thoughts here, instead of in the comment under his blog.

Ok. I bet you already knew this, Ryan, but I had the thought, so I wrote it down. :)

Just by presenting this question, about individualism vs. unity, I believe you are being an individual. Simply by offering this question out to us (the readers), you are being an individual, thinking and expressing your thoughts. And by posing the question, you inspire others to think about and consider answers. Without your 'individualism' in this instance, methinks we wouldn't have this common ground to work our thoughts off of to better understand one another. Without 'individualism', there would be no reason to try to understand one another, no reason for developing 'people skills', no reason for these simple basic life skills, that are obviously needed to cope in life.

Without individualism, there would be no need for understanding different perspectives which we can obviously tell, that there is a need for. If God wanted us to have no differing of perspectives, in order to be 'unified', He would have needed to take away every thing that gives us any differing characteristics. We would need to be the same in skin color, gender, size, and be identical in every way (which I think is the real issue here, the confusion between becoming identical and becoming unified). In order to be 'unified', he would need to allow us no human contact due to the differing of perspectives, simply by our different visual perceptions. Yet this is not the case.

Individualism provides us an opportunity for understanding, and therefore of unity. If our thoughts are understood by each other, then we can grow and develop towards being edified, and therefore, unified. It is through being edified that we find truths, and correct principles, which are anchors in life that once understood, begin to unify us.

We have our individuality, our own personalities, our own flares, but still we can have a common understanding which brings us out of the slums of mockery, slandering, and other attitudes which further us from each other. This common understanding is greater than we are. It's not just understanding one perspective out of the thousands, but God's greater perspective which sheds light on how everything works, and why people are the way they are, and how to interact and live by correct principles. But this does not mean it steals our tastes, goals, tendencies, talents, passions, love or individuality to become unified through understanding.

I suggest that it is this 'individualism' which spawns the ability to attain 'unity'. I believe that it is due to, and because of our individuality that we are able to be unified.