Birth of a New Day: Haleakala Crater, Maui
(Girls' Only Trip: Corsee, Chat and Christie)

It wasn't an easy proposition to wake up at 1am on our second night in Maui. Our days were already filled with plans to do 'nothing' but sit out by the pool, walk by the beach, read books, get pampered at the luxurious spa, eat and eat some more. But we did it so we could catch the 2am chartered tour bus that would take us to the top of Helealaka, 10,000 feet above sea level, to wait for the sun to rise as we shiver in 44 degrees Fahrenheit.

Over 30 years ago, I had the opportunity to drive up to Haleakala to see the sun rise. But I was only 19 years old and an excursion up to the mountain volcano with some cute guys was definitely not conducive to this higher form of contemplative exercise. And I wasn't ready for the spiritual treat that I was about to experience this time around.

It was pitch black when we arrived at the crater. There was a crowd already waiting. It was so cold my hands felt frozen. There was no clear horizon and with the clouds in the sky, we weren't sure what kind of sunrise we were going to be gifted by Mother Nature.

Then a thin orange line emerged on the horizon. And we waited. And waited. Soon the clouds in the sky became a beautiful smoky blue as a large portion dissipated. Stars and a couple of bright planets were still visible. It took what seemed like hours for the sun to finally appear. The skies turned all kinds of colours. I suddenly became aware of how clear the air was. I could see for miles and miles. The light of the emerging sun played with my eyes. It was spectacular.

For a moment, I stood in awe. I tried to hide my tears as I felt myself about to burst with gratitude for what I was about to see. Suddenly, the words came to my head: "...so you can see far off". For a brief moment there, a flow of thoughts came into my head.

The scriptures are full of references to land or promised lands that are 'far off'. On first blush, we take these literally. But I believe there is a deeper meaning to these references.

These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country.

And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to have returned.

But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city. (Hebrews 11: 13-15)

The scriptures then begin to list great men like Isaac, Moses, Jacob and Joseph--men who saw the promises far off. These were men who were persuaded to obey all that God commanded them to do because they could see far off. Because they could see clearly. We even can conclude that most of them did not even receive the promises. Moses never made it to the promised land. Abraham only had two sons and passed on before he could see the promise made to him fulfilled. And yet, they all did what they were asked to do because they saw the 'land' far off.

Sometimes, as we go through challenges, it is hard to see far off. We begin to doubt and worry about contingencies. We worry about things we cannot control. We suffer because we cannot control these contingencies---nor prevent them from happening. We want to be shown exactly what the future looks like. We want to see the future so we can protect ourselves. Arm ourselves.

Such is what faith is made of. It is made of things that are not seen. It is the substance of things we hope for. It the the evidence of things we cannot see. Faith is moving along, hanging on--happily and hopefully through challenges and uncertainty.

Yet sometimes, if we look hard and seek, we begin to see the invisible. Clouds dissipate. The air is made clear. And we can see far off.

Sometimes we need to climb a mountain where the air may be thinner. Our lungs will have to work harder. Sometimes we have to wait in total darkness...in the cold. And then our patience is rewarded.

Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear. (Hebrews 11:3)

There is an invisible portal through which we can see all things that are visible only to the heart and the spirit. High on the mountaintop, in Haleakala, I was reminded of the promises that I can see far off. And my heart took flight.

As we stepped back into our comfortable van, our guide announced that of the many times he had been to watch the sunrise at Haleakala, this morning's event ranked in the top 5% of the best. He was incredulous about how the air was so clear we could see the islands of Moloka'i, Lana'i, Kahoolawe and even clearly see the tops of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa--far away to the big island of Hawaii. I smiled a secret smile because what I saw far off was brighter and clearer than that.

Faux'ified Bibingka
(Cheese Muffins)

Warning: This recipe makes THREE dozen muffins!
Do not attempt to count calories. Just go into denial.

Combine: 2 1/2 c Bisquick
1 1/2 c sugar
3 tsp baking powder

Add: 5 eggs, 2 cups evaporated milk and mix well. Pour into paper-lined muffin pans. Do not overfill as batter will rise.

Bake 350 degrees for 10 minutes and remove from oven. They will look like this:

Carefully place a pat of real butter on top of each muffin like so:

Add grated cheddar cheese and about a tsp of sugar. Yes, sugar. You can also substitute a slice of cream cheese instead of cheddar. Yum.

Place back in oven and bake another 10 minutes. Remove from oven and enjoy. What? I'm missing FOUR muffins already?? The horror.

Today is officially the last weekend of the summer. I wish Mother Nature would act accordingly because it's still 3 digits hot here in Henderson, Nevada. So I decided to change the arrangements on our front door to something more appropriate for the time--dried hydrangeas. Awesome! I suddenly feel like transforming the whole house! Oh no. I think I may be getting a little hypomanic. Well it's about time! I have this sudden urge to embark on all kinds of projects. I woke up at 4:30am which is really late by my wont and my mind started racing. I have several projects that are brewing and I know intellectually that most of them are bound to fail just from experience and so my mind is racing about that too. It's miserable. My friends tell me to stop thinking when I get like this. BUT HOW??

HANNAH'S HIGHLIGHTS OF JERUSALEM VIDEO

August 24, Monday, we went to the Camp's home for Family Home Eveyning so we can see the video that Hannah hurriedly put together. It shows some of the highlights of her summer stint at the BYU Jerusalem Center--at least what she could fit in 15 minutes or so. It turned out so awesome that I thought I should post it here for the rest of the family to see and enjoy.

Believing in The Extraordinary

Believing in the Extraordinary

Waking up in the middle of the night still shaking from the torment of a nightmare, I struggled to return to reality. There was none. The nightmare was merely a playback of my past life spilling into the 'now'. The monster once again has caught up with me.

I know that there is a place reserved for those who harm little innocent children. I know it is a terrible place. And yet somehow I feel some measure of compassion for that uncle who not just stole the wonder and magic of my childhood but also shattered the vision of how I saw the world. I know he will never experience joy.

But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. (Matthew 18:6)

The most painful and agonizing moment of my life was the realization that something wondrous had been taken away from me. It was the total loss. The darkness. The realization that my life would never again be the same. It was that clear even as a young child of 5 or 6. And though in my limited vocabulary I attempted to ask for help, the realization that help would not be forthcoming feels like a kind of death sentence. And so, hell was when you wake up in the morning and pretend that nothing happened. And you face your abuser day by day pretending that nothing happened. And you had to wait to grow up so you can figure out a way to escape. And day by day you try to pick up the shattered pieces of your life and try to put them back together piece by piece even though you will have to look at the world through a myriad of broken pieces held together by nothing but your will.

How does one emerge from all this darkness and pain? How did I survive this? Ahh...but that is the magic. There is still something I have that no one can steal or pry from me. It is even more wondrous than what he took from me. I have a little something that I was born with. It is the iron-clad, clear belief that something extraordinary is going to happen to me.

I always knew that there was a higher being who watched over me. And though I may have passed through terrible experiences and stumbled through confusion and desperation, I always felt his loving arms around me. All I had to do was close my eyes and I could feel the tender love of a God who loved me and who wanted to bless me. I never questioned this knowledge because it was in me from the very beginning. Though I could not articulate those feelings, I just knew and understood.

Sometimes, like that night when I had the series of nightmares, feelings will surface and again, I relive those dark moments. I pass through the sorrows and confusion once again. And I have to find a way to heal again. Some people may look at this and conclude that of course, it is a natural consequence of those horrible events of my life. But I don't see it that way. I see it as an opportunity to remember all the extraordinary events of my life that led me to the life that I have now. And every time I look back, I see miracles. And more miracles. I see the hand of God putting things back in order. And every day of my life, I see more and more of the extraordinary 'coincidences' that tell me that God indeed opens the windows of heaven such that there is barely room for me to receive them. My greatest fear is not that past. My greatest fear is that I will become ungrateful.

I have accomplished many things but the greatest of all that I have ever done is being a mother to four amazing children. I do not know what I have done to deserve the blessing of being their mother and learning so much from them but I am grateful. And the best decision I've ever made in my life is marrying the best friend I have ever had who still makes every day ever so wondrous and magical. With him, I feel safe. Because of him, the shattered window that I pieced together no longer has cracks or fissures. I can see even more clearly now. I no longer have to hold the pieces together. I see a clear and bright vision of the world. It is all I need.

The extraordinary is frequently invisible. But train your eyes and heart to see and slowly, all the magical pieces emerge and you begin to see not just the world around you but the extraordinary world of miracles and divine order.

Yeah. The nightmares may come. And darkness sometimes falls upon you. But believing that the extraordinary is possible is more than enough to heal you everytime darkness falls. It's wondrous. And nothing or no one can take that away from me

The Wonder of the Human Mind

Dr. Sylvia Nasar, the author of "A Beautiful Mind" tells the extraordinary story of mathematician John Nash a drama about the mystery of the human mind and shares some of her experiences in writing her prize-winning biography.

This video runs 1:15 hours. I found this lecture, given at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to Mathematics students, very compelling. Nash's great story to me is a perfect metaphor for life itself. Take the time to watch and be enlightened.

Anthropologie and The Subject of Prayer

Anthropologie and the Subject of Prayer

Summer is on its last breath and my children are off once again to carve their niches via academic pursuits with its own set of social demands and premiums. Ahhh...college life! Just a very small dot of time on life's uninterrupted timeline. I find it interesting that I still feel like that person in my twenties except decades have passed and I've accumulated many life experiences, wrinkles and lately, some aches and pains. I can see where my children are and I can clearly identify what challenges they need to anticipate, what they need to do to avoid them. Even more jarring is that I can see opportunities that they can't see and life treasures within their grasp that they sometimes can't see simply because youth makes them invisible. Could this be the wisdom of age?

I find myself obsessing over what to do and more importantly, what to give them. I seem to be frequenting shops that cater to their indulgence: baby and children's stores for my grandchildren, high-end stores like Anthropologie or Nordstroms, the Mac store (the computer Mac---not the make-up...although I go there too....) and little boutiques here and there...always looking for things to indulge them with. And I do. I want to.

In participating in the above exercises, I've rediscovered something that I've always known but didn't consider because of my exuberance in wanting to give. First, the more they get used to being showered with gifts and things, the more those things lose their value. It's a natural consequence. It's basic economics. You have more 'stuff' and they keep on coming regardless of what you do and all that 'stuff' becomes pointless and cheap. Hence, I find myself needing to hold back. It's imperative to do so because indulgence's end result is simply gratitude-made-obsolete and expectations slowly brewed into an over-seasoned soup of entitlement. And for me, separation from my children seems to unlock that Pandora's box of exuberant giving and gifting because I simply want them to NOT forget me. I simply want to remind them that I am still here. And because I can't be with them to love them, protect them and care for them, I have this urgent need to give them things so they will remember that I love them. It's just a human reaction. Or a mother's.

I've also discovered, with some measure of sorrow, that I cannot dispense advice , warning or insight to my children willy-nilly. It just pesters them no end. That's when the rolling eyes, awkward silences, annoyed glances or even vexations arise. It can be a relationship breaker. And it turns me, a loving mother, into a villainous, over-bearing, hovering entity. Not human. But an entity. They want to make their own mistakes. They want to discover hardship by themselves. And they don't want to be told that there's a better way or that you see in them more strength, more talent or more sense. They want those things to be invisible because if you can see their strengths, then they know you expect something from them they may be unprepared to see or deliver. So really, a mother's awesome task for the most part is to watch. Just watch. And pray.

On another note, though I've always known all these in principle, it's a different thing to know principles experientially. And it goes both ways. I understand both sides because I also have parents and I have been where they are now. And this understanding causes me also some measure of sorrow and regret because as children, we do not always think of our parents nor of their counsels nor of their generosity. But as loving parents, our children are constantly in our thoughts and hearts. In time our children become parents and the circle completes. Until then, we cannot see the broad strokes of the canvas.

On another level, I have a more profound appreciation and understanding of the power and imperative necessity of prayer---not just prayer but the relationship that ensues when we pray and look to God unceasingly. Wisdom and knowledge come only after we seek them and often as a result of our own experiences...mostly the ones that cause us to stumble or lose orientation. Because our Heavenly Father is a perfect being, He knows how to perfectly balance agency and the grace that bestows us all things we stand in need of regardless of what we do. He blesses us continually despite our lack of gratitude and if we but ponder these blessings more often, it would cause us great awe-- yes, even an awareness of our own 'nothingness'. An overwhelming surge of gratitude that threatens to even drown us ensues. Consider this:

And again I say unto you as I have said before, that as ye have come to the knowledge of the glory of God, or if ye have known of his goodness and have tasted of his love, and have received a remission of your sins, which causeth such exceedingly great joy in your souls, even so I would that ye should remember, and always retain in remembrance, the greatness of God, and your own nothingness, and his goodness and long-suffering towards you, unworthy creatures, and humble yourselves even in the depths of humility, calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come, which was spoken by the mouth of the angel.

And behold, I say unto you that if ye do this ye shall always rejoice, and be filled with the love of God, and always retain a remission of your sins; and ye shall grow in the knowledge of the glory of him that created you, or in the knowledge of that which is just and true. (Mosiah 4:11-12)

When we pray to our Heavenly Father he rejoices. He loves it when we talk to him, share with him our thoughts even our fears. He loves it when we express gratitude. His kindness defies description when we confess our sins to him. And he longs to bless us with those blessings that he has reserved for us---the ones that he holds back--- until we ask for them. As we pray more often, we find favour in his sight and he quickly blesses us more abundantly such that we cannot possibly be grateful enough. And when we stumble or fall and seek him, he immediately lifts us according to our faith. There is no condemnation when we seek him after a long absence...only rejoicing that we, like the prodigal son, have come back. Such is merely this mortal mother's understanding of a perfect father's love--that of a Heavenly Father who longs to bless us and to keep us in his loving arms.

Now, if we look around us, there are an endless number of gifts--yes, even indulgences that God has bestowed us. That the sun gives us its warmth and life-giving rays is an obvious gift and remembrance that there is a higher being who loves us. Everything on this earth are to the typifying of the Saviour. We are endowed with endless possibilities through priesthood ordinances both inside and outside the temple. Even the commandments and principles we learn are reminders of our Heavenly Father's love for us. If we but open our eyes and hearts, He is everywhere. He gives because he wants us to remember Him.

So, as I separate from my children mostly in a geographical sense, I cannot just pick up the phone every second that I long to hear their voices. I have to wait until they call or until I can find a viable reason to call. And though I feel that I need to warn them, I have to sometimes allow them to fail. Though it will break my heart to pieces when they hurt or stumble, I must hold my heart together in my hands and allow them to discover for themselves the strength that lies within them. I also need to understand that I cannot just gift them my insights or wisdom drawn from my own stumblings unless they ask. Life already is packaged with enough challenges and when we seek to minimize these challenges by desiring and seeking wisdom from our parents, both are edified and joy springs because our spirits are enhanced from the interchange of knowledge. There is safety and security when we heed and look for warnings and cues.

As far as Anthropologie...well, I just ordered some shoes again. And some cute headbands. But I am going to keep them until someone asks to have them. Then I will quickly and happily put them in a nice bag and let them have it.

The Faux Kids Make Turron* (And A Big Mess...)
*Filipino Deep Fried Bananas and Jackfruit Rolls

Behaviour and Disposition

Lately, I've noticed that I have had no desire nor even the inclination to be with people...large groups of people. For the past few weeks I've been in a funk--feeling really exhausted emotionally and consequently, physically. All I wanted to do was be alone. I get this way many times and its been a constant source of frustration and befuddlement to me.

I am not a shy person and I do not dislike people either. In fact, I've always thought me an articulate communicator and a very good listener. I don't like to talk about people but put me in a room with a bunch of free thinkers and I am in heaven because I love to talk about issues and ideas. I feel that I am interested in people and have always been a keen observer of behaviour. I usually sense what people think and why they tick the way they do. I am not timid about expressing my opinions and love to hear what other people think.

But put me in a situation where I have to do 'small talk' and I immediately feel like hurling. I become a total schizoid painfully and utterly aware that I am an alien in a dizzyingly threatening environment. And I get completely undone. My head hurts and I just want to be alone. I find that I cannot even respond to friendly hellos or 'small talk' because it feels painful. So I avoid eye contact and keep to myself. Thus, I do believe most people perceive me, at the very optimistic, unapproachable or perhaps even stuck-up.

Yet, I love people and want to be helpful. Oftentimes, I am generous to a fault and worry about others. I am loyal to those who I consider close friends. And am very interested in people in general. I even think I get along well with most people.

This incongruity in me makes it difficult to be LDS. While I know that I need to serve others and participate enthusiastically in various church events and activities, I find them very draining and I find that sometimes it takes weeks for me to regroup. This makes for an interesting dilemma. I get riddled by guilt that I am not a more 'warm and fuzzy' person. Yet I want to be that way. But I can't. And thus begins my descent into depression.

Through these years, I've just been flummoxed by my disposition--the irony and incongruity of my behaviour and disposition. Until a revelation---

I am an introvert! There is a name for what I have. And its ok for me to be me!

************

Introverts:

Definition: Contrary to what most people think, an introvert is not simply a person who is shy. In fact, being shy has little to do with being an introvert! Shyness has an element of apprehension, nervousness and anxiety, and while an introvert may also be shy, introversion itself is not shyness. Basically, an introvert is a person who is energized by being alone and whose energy is drained by being around other people.

Introverts are more concerned with the inner world of the mind. They enjoy thinking, exploring their thoughts and feelings. They often avoid social situations because being around people drains their energy. This is true even if they have good social skills. After being with people for any length of time, such as at a party, they need time alone to "recharge."

When introverts want to be alone, it is not, by itself, a sign of depression. It means that they either need to regain their energy from being around people or that they simply want the time to be with their own thoughts. Being with people, even people they like and are comfortable with, can prevent them from their desire to be quietly introspective.

Being introspective, though, does not mean that an introvert never has conversations. However, those conversations are generally about ideas and concepts, not about what they consider the trivial matters of social small talk.

Introverts make up about 60% of the gifted population but only about 25-40% of the general population.

So now, I can just relax. There's more of us! And though I am a minority in so many more ways than just this, I don't have to feel deficient. I am therefore, a hypomanic-depressive introvert. It feels good to have a definition. But still....I just want my alone time when I need it and I don't want to have to feel guilty that 'small talk' distresses me because when I am on my highs, I can be a 'small talk' expert.

So there.

Running Score: Door 1, Jack 0

We had an unfortunate incident that involved Jack's big toe and the front door.

And Papi came to the rescue. He did a great job bandaging said toe. Jack may have to lose a nail. But that's ok. He's built to be tough. He's a Faux.

Jack Jabez Faux: Future GQ Cover

Think sharp and pay attention. This video is the perfect metaphor for what summer was like this year.

LINKS FOR HANNAH

I am holding the pink chain links that Lucy helped create for Nate who is counting the days before Hannah comes home. It has been a long separation for both and I am so happy that they can be together again. Hannah has been gone for FOUR whole months whilst studying in the BYU Jerusalem Center. She is our second daughter to avail of this wonderful opportunity. In 7 days, she will be home. Yeah, I know that there's 2 extra days in the chain but Lucy got a little exuberant.

Jordan found a wonderful summer clerkship working for the International Patent Office in Washington DC. Considering the economy, it was indeed a huge blessing that he landed a job. (It's an even bigger blessing for them that they found someone like Jordan to work for them!) Leland took his family to New Zealand to clerk for an esquire practicing criminal law. That has served him very well. This summer, Tascha accompanied us to Eastern Europe. I love that our children have had the great blessing of traveling to many parts of the world so that they can enhance and elevate their understanding of the human condition. The girls and Jordan have been to Europe, Asia and the Middle East. It's important to me to gift them with these experiences.

This summer is about to come to a conclusion. It has been fraught with challenges and new experiences. Hannah's special young man came back from Scotland very ill and we were afraid we would lose him. God does love him. He is so special---with a little sprinkling of something magical. God's hands cradled him and is still leading him. All that is behind him now and we can finally feel relief and thanksgiving that he has been spared...and healed. He is an amazing human being and we just love him fiercely. Now he can move on and do more amazing things. We are excited for him and his bright future and happy that he will be in BYU this fall.

I've never felt so close to the powers of heaven and the healing powers of the priesthood as I have been this summer. I started a list of the miracles---some so very obvious but every single one a magnificent manifestation that God has control of everything but our will. The list keeps on growing. I've never desired more to know his will and mind as I have this summer. Joy and gratitude fill me to brimming.

Hannah has indeed walked the paths where Jesus walked. She has floated in the Red Sea and touched the waters of the River Jordan. She has been to Bethlehem and picked olive leaves for me in the Garden of Gethsemane. She has been to the Garden Tomb, the battlefields of Megiddo, Galilee, Jordan and even sweated through the heat waves amidst the pyramids. But like I told her, it really isn't important where Jesus walked...what's important is what he taught.

I may not have swam in the Red Sea but this summer, God has parted it for me. I may not have knelt in Gethsemane but God has removed the bitter cup as we passed through it. I may not have seen the Old City streets were the Messiah healed the sick, the blind and the weary but he has done that very thing for the ones we love. I may not have seen Bethlehem but all I have to do is look towards the heavens and I see the brightest star in the darkest of night.

I do not have to see the face of God to know that He is real. But I do look forward to the day when I can see him.

This summer is the slowest of all summers. I often wished that it would be over and that Hannah would be back and her young man fully healed. Now that that scenario is about to become real, my heart beats faster and relief tastes like the food of the gods. It feels like the destroying angel passed through our door.

Though I passed through some time when I questioned the events unexpected that happened this summer, in my heart I know that challenges are not meant to punish man but to refine him. To purify. And my heart is full of gladness.

Tonight, I feel many things. And greatest of all is gratitude.

I AM GOING ON VACATION

The thing about vacations is that as much as NOT being on one means work, going on one requires a lot of planning and strategizing. I think its time for me to go on vacation. Extenuating circumstances require it. It is going to be an extended one. It may not be exotic but it will have to do. I am not taking anybody with me. I'm not taking my cellphone. I am not taking my laptop. It will just be ME. I have several places in mind but I have it narrowed down to two. It will be great. I am disposing of anyone and anything that causes me undeserved stress or pain. I am looking forward to it.

It Is Never Really Enough

You may give them that last oreo cookie that you saved to make you a shake just because they want it but in the end, they will eat only the filling and throw away the cookie.

You may put off reading that important book that you think you need to read to fill your mushy brain with some semblance of intelligence so you can read Green Eggs and Ham for the 56th time but ultimately, they will forget that you ever read them books.

You may decide to give up your career so you can have the privilege of raising your children on your own with dreams of bequeathing to them all your thoughts, your passion, your talents but ultimately, they will think you hover over them too much.

You may defend them from all things fearsome and use your body as a shield from the arrows of disappointment or judgments but ultimately, they will think the arrows came from you.

You may love whom they love, care for them, be generous with them but ultimately, they will find something else you lack.

You may give them everything they want and generously endow them with tangible and intangible gifts but ultimately, those things won't really matter.

You may have come from royalty, or artists, scientists, mathematicians or saints but ultimately, they won't care about your past.

You may be intelligent, experienced, wise or talented but ultimately, they will strip you of all those qualities by refusing to see them...or take advantage of them.

It is never really quite enough.

Waiting For Fire

I think mental illness was pervasive in my genealogy. I really don't know what 'normal' is. How does one realize what is normal? All I know after half a century of life is that I definitely came from brilliant people mired in fits of eccentricity, melancholia or perverse models of dangerous thought and behaviour.

My world has always been my mind because all too many times, the world around me was too dangerous and frightening. And yet, as I sit here in the dark, I cannot conclude if it was my mind that made my reality frightening or if the variables outside myself contributed to the darkness in my mind. What I conclude is more accurate is that there really is something just outside the periphery of my mind that voraciously putrefies any sense of well-being faster than my intellect can produce.

The feeling of desperation and self-loathing is like a thief that steals the light from inside me. I know when its there and no matter how clearly my mind tells me how beautiful and bright the world is outside or how perfectly charming my life is, it somehow can obliterate all that reason.

And yet, there is someone else who lives inside me. She can be charming and vivacious. And she seems to know what to do. I call upon her to accompany me through the events of my life. But she comes only when she wants to. The brilliance with which she comports herself with people she chooses to love consists of extreme generosity, affection and selflessness. She is someone inside me who seems to be real that despair imprisons all too many times. She loves but fiercely. She feels everything deeply. She passionately wants to experiment with life and yearns to blur the banal boundaries that slays her need to express herself--to create, to discover, to devise. She is easily hurt and when that happens, she can be frighteningly imperial. That is the someone that I slay in order to be 'normal'. She visits me less and less now. And then the darkness sets in.

Those were wonderful days when she would arise. Always she comes with fire and sharpness. We soar together. That's when I feel like I can touch the infinite and my mind races because the window of opportunity is open only for a limited time. I have to move quickly. I feel exuberant and timeless. And then... as fast as she comes, she can also wreak havoc. And I have to pay dearly for her companionship...sometimes the price is much too costly.

She visits me less and less now. Did I already say that? In her stead, anguish. And the loathing begins. And I wait for fire. I wait for her to save me. Time is running out. The wait is paralyzing. Let her come soon.

*******

"I Think Continually of Those Who Were Truly Great"
by Stephen Spender

I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.

What is precious is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.

Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are feted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life
Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.

I love languages! And I especially love beautifully spoken or written languages. I love collecting beautifully written sentences or phrases. I kept notebooks full of them. And I memorized some of those sentences just in case I find myself in a perfect moment where I can be eloquent courtesy of someone else. Later, I would collect my own thoughts crafted with words and phrases painstakingly chosen from my growing reservoir. There is nothing more grand than thoughts cleverly packaged and constructed using only the best permutation of words that perfectly encapsulates even the most simple thought. Carefully choosing the right words to convey a thought or concept is like choosing the perfect pattern of china or silver to serve life's most delectable sustenance. And oh yes--- when necessary, even the most hurtful insult can be expertly crafted. They can be perfectly timed to explode much later when you are no longer present. Or, for the cruel in nature, they can be like extended release capsules.

I'd like to think that my children have a superior vocabulary and that when they express themselves, they talk like intelligent people. And even more so, I do believe that they have intelligent thoughts and opinions. Though I loved to sometimes 'baby talk' when they were little, we often engaged in exchanges of ideas using a level of conversation that I would deem as articulate. I just assumed that if I use a variety of vocabulary words, they would be intelligent enough to either ask for the meaning of the word or infer its meaning from the context. And because English is my second 'oral' language, I did not fall into any category of American dialects. I simply tried to speak proper English.

I still hold on to my old grammar rules from grade school. And I still have to pause many times to retrieve the 'exact' word that describes what I want to communicate.

THE LOST ART OF CONVERSATION
and the diminishing need for live inter-personal communication skills

503219. These numbers were the first series of numbers that I memorized with great relish next to 3.1416. Obviously, the second set of numbers comprise the mathematical constant pi. But the first series is much more personal...and even sexier: our first telephone number. Yes, that is a photo of teenager me holding that funky machine next to my ear.

This heavy handle broadcasted hours and hours of great conversations I've had with many friends and loved ones. In it, I divulged secrets, deep emotions of love, longing, excitement, disgust, teasings, flirtations, great information, personal opinions on matters of great value, fights, dreams and even sometimes, sexy conversation. Yes, many times, I would curl my arms around this telephone and whisper sweet nothings to my boyfriend or challenge him to tell me something that would make my heart quiver. There were times when I let the person on the other line hear my soft sobs so he could quiet my fears and insecurities. Other times, I would have exuberant arguments which would usually end with affirmations of loyalty and love for each other. At times I would sing to my boyfriend as I balanced the handlebar between ear and shoulder and then pluck my guitar simultaneously to the beat of the song. I loved that telephone. I remember momentous life events heralded through the telephone with loved ones on the other line. And even sometimes, miracles commenced or concluded on this wondrous invention.

There were also moments when laugher that bellowed from the deepest parts of one's belly passed through the telephone. Or when someone shared wondrous information that you never even entertained.

When our first telephone was installed in our home, I felt powerful. I felt like the world can be and is in my fingertips. In those days, we had 'party-lines'--people you may or may not know who shared the line. This annoyance was something everybody learned to live with. At times the phone would ring and when you pick up, it wouldn't be 'your' call but your party-line's. So you quietly hang-up when you hear the other line pick up. Or not. You could quietly lift up the phone and engage in eavesdropping. Or they can. In any case, having a party-line can also be an exercise in genteelness that when properly observed can instill sophisticated decorum into one's character. Lord knows we need more opportunities like this.

Because there were no cell phones, it was often a challenge to try and contact people. So many times, people resorted to creative means to communicate. Many times these inventive and clever ways were often most memorable and meaningful. And at times, most romantic. But I never really wished there could be something better...unless I was in a whole lot of inconvenience.

Today, thanks to the marvelous convenience of cell phones, unseen people who could be in another continent or time zone takes precedence over one's company of flesh and blood. I see it happening all over. In restaurants, I see couples sitting across each other, each with their cellphones either talking or texting some unseen person. Conversations or worse, magical moments when two people inlove stare at each other and are engaged in wordless communications of devotion and adoration are often interrupted by clever ringtones. WE NEED MORE OF THOSE HUMAN INTERACTIONS!

The art of conversation is a wondrous way of communication that allows one many opportunities to really get to know another human being. It is, indeed, an art and a skill. And requires effort more strenuous than what a finger can tap. Conversation, and I mean two or more 'live' people who can engage in meaningful exchanges of ideas that can merge into some kind of satisfying conclusion that edifies and enriches everyone is becoming rare. Too often, important moments of value are engaged via texting or electronic mail. Texting is notorious for short, flip 'conversations'. One can opt to not respond, or wait until they can think of a 'safe' non-committal response that can be done in 5 words or less. And rather than exert more effort into listening, which is also becoming a lost art and impossible when engaging in text or ichat 'communication', the texter can become a habitual escapist-- a coward who cannot face moments of real clarification or even opportunities to risk being understood or 'seen'. Often, the result is disastrous.

Texting, email or ichatting removes the most important factors in human interaction--verbal and physical cues. And there is an art to inserting these cues -- and I'm not talking about inserting those stupid emoticons--- the most inane, idiotic invention of the electronic age. I could write a whole essay on that subject and I will. The art of subtle flirtation can be lost when neither man nor woman have as many exchanges and exercises in human contact. The openness of eye contact is lost so that young people no longer know how to be intimate in ways that are subtle and deliciously sensual. Touching another person in muted artful ways is another lost art and I don't mean sexual ways. Facial cues that could relay other messages that lie deeper than just words cannot be enjoyed, discovered or read through ichat, text or email. Even the lilt in one's voice could denote contained excitement, the tilt of one's head that may signal that one may be flummoxed, the trembling of lips that may impart a subtle longing or hurt, the lifting of the brow that may signal suspicion or quandary... these wonderful cues are life's luxuries that are necessary for enriching and enhancing the human condition. And texting, email and ichat all blunt our cravings and pining for these wonderful subleties of human communication. But there is also another treasure that seems to have become more of a rarity and here it is: love letters.

I understand that progress is inevitable and do appreciate this day and age we live in. I love technology and keep myself relatively up-to-date on what's out there. But then again, this sort of progress does evoke in me a hankering for nostalgia and a longing for those days that live only in the past. I suppose we must all pay a price. But I do hope that this progress does not dull our senses nor kill our cravings for human interaction and conversation. Speedy texting and ichat have inevitably created new vocabulary and language that are inevitably starved of descriptive and beautiful words rendering this new language metallic, dull and short. Beautiful sentences that convey a sophistication and genteel upbringing are no longer appreciated because texting and ichat by their nature require only a few hundred vocabulary words. This limitation of words I suspect, will also limit our affections and thoughts...and dulls our sensitivities.

So... b3 ctn TTFN <3 u

Or whatever the hell that means.

QUICK ADVENTURES IN CAPE COD

The quaint village of Cesky Krumlov, in the Czech Republic behind us.

Our 28th Anniversaire

There's a lot going on this weekend. Friday was our 28th anniversary and today is also Father's Day. I have a lot of thoughts racing in my head. Today, as usual, Kurt went to early morning Bishopric meetings and I drove myself to church. I arrived a little late and walked in as Kurt barely started conducting the meeting. As we sang the sacrament hymn, I was unexpectedly overcome with emotion as the words of the hymn began to take a life of their own as each word and meaning caught me like a soft embrace. I tried very hard not to let the tears flow.

My father suffered from severe mood swings that ranged from mania that involved all sorts of dangerous behaviour--from endless spending and gambling with staggering financial losses to violent outbursts and other unspeakable acts. At times he fancied himself as having the answer to all the ills of the world and became this charismatic leader, musical genius and organizational leader. At times he was just fancy-free and super fun. And then, infrequently, he would just be normal, loving and nurturing. This bipolar life resulted in memories half bitter and sad and the other, strangely secure and happy. There was a long time in my life when the bitter half engulfed and scorched my life in flames. Those were my lost, dark and dreary years filled with dangerous behaviour, flirtations with death both physical and spiritual-- a sort of draconian drama. As I learned to manage my own inherited bouts of manic-depression, age and experience became my best friends and I learned to choose the better half that happy memories can still purchase from my bitterness.

My constant Northern Star has been my best friend---my husband. I chose wisely. When my lows seemed insurmountable and my desperation rendered me paralyzed with self-doubt and a serious case of self-loathing, he was immovable. When I thought myself unworthy of being loved, he gave me reason to believe that there HAS to be something, though infinitessimal, in me that is worth loving. He gave me a bright and shiny world on a silver platter when I thought life betrayed me. And when my highs appeared, he let me soar and gave me assurance that when things inevitably fell and I am hit with the 'funks', he would be there to catch me and gave me permission to shut myself out from the world so I can regroup. He saved my life. And does so every day. Without getting exhausted. How he does it, I will never know. But I'd like to think that I have something that completes him as he completes me.

These two fathers shape my life in ways that refine and perfect me. And I cannot imagine life without them.

Gratitude cannot even describe how I feel today thinking about these things. Deeper still is the knowledge that I have that there is a God who loves me. Though many times I feel that my challenges seem insurmountable, intellectually I know that He has never given me anything but countless blessings and favours. My life is filled with emotional highs and lows that often paralyze me and when I do walk through these 'calvarys' I hold on to what I know are true. I see these events as opportunities to practice faith--holding on to something true, slippery and foggy as it may be. And practice makes perfect. Challenges and life's experiences are merely tremendous gifts and opportunities for refinement and perfection. Ergo, there is nothing that life can bring that does not require gratitude as remittance. All things that I receive from Him are good. If I can just remember to be grateful every day, I can find peace and therefore have the ability to keep on learning and growing---achieving more light and knowledge.

I thought I would record these thoughts today, on Father's Day. It's no coincidence that my wedding anniversary always falls close to this day. I hope that my children will learn to also forgive and choose to remember the better parts.