Crossroads (revised)

" The man who is unwilling to accept the axiom that he who chooses one path is denied the others must try to persuade himself, I suppose, that the logical thing to do is to remain at the crossroads."

-dag hammarskjold

My biggest downfall in life has always been remaining at the crossroads. We do it in dating. I do it in dating, anyway. You probably do it as well, I'd bet. If I bet. Which I don't. But if I did I would have $75 to collect from my high school english teachers since I didn't get married after my freshman year at BYU. I thought they knew me better than that. I thought a lot of things.

Perhaps that is what keeps me at the crossroads: I think. I was telling Cindy today about a question that a group of my friends asked and answered the other night. It was, "if you could go back in time and give anything to your 8-year-old self, what would it be?" Think, I thought. What would it be? The jury was out. The circle went the other direction. My neighbor said something profound, which reminded me why I love her so much as a friend while it made me wish I didn't go directly after her. Sort of like in sunday school when we were talking about trials and someone raised their hand and said they were grateful for health as they'd struggled with cancer this summer. Next? Beuhller?

Anyway, my gift to my 8-year-old self was a sense of reckless abandon. That may sound odd to a lot of people, but I was in dire need of one. I still am. For a lot of people, that would spell disaster - for me it brings balance. I've often wondered why we try to find people to date who are as similar to us as possible, instead of people who aren't our carbon copies but balance us in ways we didn't realize we needed to be balanced. Not that we shouldn't be balanced by ourselves. You know what I mean.

I practiced today by running down the mountain.

(I still stopped on the corners.)

I am afraid to make decisions I can't un-make. Like death. And marriage. But they still need to be made.

The crossroads

" The man who is unwilling to accept the axiom that he who chooses one path is denied the others must try to persuade himself, I suppose, that the logical thing to do is to remain at the crossroads."

-dag hammarskjold

My biggest downfall in life has always been remaining at the crossroads. We do it in dating. I do it in dating, anyway. You probably do it as well, I'd bet. If I bet. Which I don't. But if I did I would have $75 to collect from my high school english teachers since I didn't get married after my freshman year at BYU. I thought they knew me better than that. I thought a lot of things.

Perhaps that is what keeps me at the crossroads. I think. I was telling Cindy today about a question that a group of my friends asked and aswered the other night. It was, "if you could go back in time and give anything to your 8-year-old self, what would it be?" Think, I thought. What would it be? The jury was out. The circle went the other direction. Lia said something profound, which reminded me why I love her so much as a friend while it made me wish I didn't go directly after her. Sort of like in sunday school when we were talking about trials and someone raised their hand and said they were grateful for health as they'd struggled with cancer this summer. Next? Beuhller?

Anyway, my gift to my 8-year-old self was a sense of reckless abandon. That may sound odd to a lot of people, but I was in dire need of one. I still am.

I practiced today by running down the mountain.

(I still stopped on the corners.)

I am afraid to make decisions I can't un-make. Like death. And marriage. But they still need to be made.

My Stony Seat (revised)

Sitting upon my stony perch I reflect upon my seat. How long has his rock stood here on this spot like a dutiful guardian protecting the busy stream as it rushes by? The chips and scars upon its gray-brown face hint that it has endured things harder and deeper than any passerby might suspect. The frozen months of life are never kind, as they break and mold you. The grandiose time of youth is whittled down through the years, under sun and rain, until even we cannot recognize our own end product. Did anyone stand as sentinel during your carving other than the silent groves? The trees come and go, as old friends give way to new, they they are unable to offer physical help as they can only give strength through the steady examples of their own legacies. Becoming organic compasses that offer direction through the storms as their slender bodies show the way to heaven.

Nicks and cuts do not always disfigure – No. Often times what most see as scarring is a misinterpretation for polish. If collected while performing our duty they offer us a noble countenance. Would anyone care Rock, if you were to give in to the current, to be picked and cracked a scattered into the ocean of the unknown? Probably not. Yet here you are. Your effort is often unnoticed by casual onlookers, but not to the Creator. Every action is seen by Him who owns this world. He gives us the ability to be strong so that we can support the burdens we have to bear. You have nothing to prove to anybody else but yourself. Not the droplets of water that bounce off your back, or the plants that grow beneath your shady overhang. What you do is for you, since it is you that will have to confront your final destiny and look back on the decisions you faced. Deep down if you know you can do it, why give in to mediocrity and apathy, instead of embracing your divine potential? And so the rock stands. Quiet, but honorable, it Stands.

For a moment (Revised)

Nothing makes you reflect like an 800 lb. elk walking into your lane of traffic. Traveling 60 mph, you cover a distance of 60 yards in 2.045 seconds. 2.054 seconds is a lot longer time interval than you think. Most sentences take less time than that. You could even have a conversation in that amount of time. Especially if you’re talking to yourself. In your brain.

I don’t think I’ve ever had my life flash before my eyes. Not before, and not this time, either. Flying down the highway with such a large animal so near, I never considered I would die. I never thought to myself, I only wish I had spoken to X or seen Y or done Z. In that short amount of time when I started braking, realized that we couldn’t stop, and hit the accelerator again to pass by the elk, I had only lucid, practical thoughts that amounted to two things: ‘there’s an elk in the road don’t hit it’ and ‘protect Cortney.’ No one wants a busted up car, especially when it’s caused by a living, breathing, and—after it’s been hit—bleeding thing, but someone was watching out for Cortney.

The morning before this drive back up the canyon to Aspen Grove, Cortney, some other friends and I had the wonderful opportunity to explore Stewart Falls hike. Walking a trail among beautiful fall colors and enjoying the spray of a waterfall, it’s hard to imagine that anyone would reject the idea of a higher power, a designer with such great creativity and love to give us the inspiring surrounding world. But even on a dark and lonely road, there is God. For all the tragedy in the world, blessings of safety like my experience on the highway still inspire and strengthen. In our time of need, Cortney and I were supported, and we will remember that we are loved.

Revised: Determined

Defeat's shackles constrain us from the start
We break them
Freedom to move

Walls block our way
We go around, over, under, through
They can't stop us

Desire is strength
Will can't be kept still

The path's end is in plain sight

Concerning the Gradual Process of Change

Here on a trail of aspen leaves, I notice Light personified, a stippling gold effect who flits across my hiking feet. As I stoop to move a creeping caterpillar to safety along the path, I feel a shared understanding with all creatures great and small. In this moment, I feel immune to offense. I wish wellbeing to all.

I have experienced illumination at other times as well; periods when I felt free of the natural man. In these moments, my eyes gaze clear of any fear, and my spiritual muscles feel poised like the runner on his mark. Come, Mortality, my old foe, I think. Sound the gun. Today I’ll race any trial, any heat—I dare you to compete.

But then mid-race, growing pains start to tug at my well-fitting limbs, and stumbling, I no longer feel comfortable in my own skin. They say a preying mantis sheds completely seven times before his mortal sojourn ends. How many times have I left old skins by the trail, and then continued jogging on my journey? Seventy times seven? The latest instance came this past summer. A new move, new congregation, new friends, new classes, new job, pumped my heart and mind full of growth hormone, until one day I awakened to sense--with some measure of alarm--my exoskeleton had grown tight. In despair at the mounting tension in my life, I forgot the readiness of former days, and slipped into the depths of an anxiety disorder, another familiar old foe. The ever present fears of mental illness fettered me. Even when I started to remember from previous experience that relief of my pain was possible, the effort of getting there seemed too monumental to try.

Therapy, prayer, support of loved ones, and all personal efforts led only to an exhausted desperation, like that felt by C.S. Lewis’ character, Eustace, from the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. When as a lad he found himself stuck in dragon form, Eustace learned he could not escape the scaly skin by his own merits. Aslan alone could pierce the dragon hide with his terrible claws, and undress it from the sorrowing boy; the saving action pained Eustace. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God, Paul points out in Hebrews 10:31. Eustace would likely agree with me: Healing hurts.

The Lord knows my struggle, feels my shuddering gasp as He wrenches old skin from me. He has seen the new me emerge, with glowing face and triumphant stride, countless times before. He knows each struggle can bring me yet again to that point of victory. But He does not hurry the process, and rather seems instead to linger until I show courage to the point of breaking. I used to wonder why He sometimes delays deliverance.

But as I sit in these aspens, peering at ants, bumble bees, and greens, I recall learning once how a butterfly emerges victorious from her chrysalis. The torturous effort of hatching forces fluid to the tips of her wings, and gives them crisp, eager flapping, a motion necessary to propel her body skyward. Perhaps the Lord lets me struggle for the same reasons He does not relieve the butterfly of her chrysalis. He wants me to work hard, to struggle, so my efforts may send righteousness shooting to the extremities of my limbs, until one day I arise and become the noble daughter of God I am meant to be.

Self-Reliance (Revised)

For some, having a mentor or person who believes in you can give you that extra push in the right direction. For others, the opposite is true – it is only when you feel completely abandoned that you turn to the Lord and are able to regroup and recuperate. At times, we must turn inward rather than outward for inspiration. Although many of us are blessed with amazing support systems full of people eager to help, there are times where we cannot let our burdens be shouldered by others. We must find inner strength and allow ourselves to rely on the Lord. It is by facing our problems or fears head-on, in a one-on-one battle, that we are able to address them, and therefore overcome them fully. Shielding given by others is only a temporary fix. Once we learn to recognize the strength we possess and when we rely on our Father in Heaven, we will continue to be able to draw upon that strength – even when all other support is removed.

I learned my lesson in the eighth grade. I had my group of best friends, and we did everything together. We ate lunch together, we talked on the phone to each other, we passed notes between classes… we were inseparable. Over time, however, it became more and more apparent to me that I didn’t really fit into this cookie cutter group. The value I placed on education, open-mindedness, and the Gospel really set me apart from my friends. Being eighth grade girls, they took every opportunity possible to see how far they could push me. I was invited to participate in the ridicule of others, to watch inappropriate movies, to attend sketchy parties… to become involved in various activities that I wasn’t comfortable with. They would become frustrated with me for going against the standards they had set, and one day they decided that “the Mormon girl” simply didn’t fit in.

A note. That was all I got from them. A simple phrase. "I don't think we can be friends anymore. Sorry." Decorated with flowers, elaborately folded... the verdict was in and my sentence was to be exiled.

I was left completely alone, or so I thought at the time. At first, I thought my eighth grade world would end. I just knew that I would never make new friends, that everyone was judging me, and that life couldn’t possibly go on. I bemoaned my situation to my mom, and I avoided everyone at school.

After a while, however, I came to the realization that a group of girls couldn’t make or break me. I came to more fully understand that I was a daughter of God and that I was tough. I told myself that I could go out, start over, and meet new people who would be accepting of a “Mormon girl.” If nothing else, I could rely on myself and the knowledge that what I was standing up for was right, and I would survive my junior high years. Once I gained confidence and an optimistic outlook, I immediately found a new group of kids who were open-minded towards my religion and happy to let me keep my standards.

On a more enduring level than eighth grade friends, however, I learned independence from other people and dependence on the Lord and my own ability to cope and survive. When life places obstacles in my path, I no longer look to someone else to help me over. I have confidence in myself and I know that I can handle anything that life throws my way.