With my own hands

This past week has been incredible. It’s hard to find words to describe the feelings I’ve felt and things I’ve done and seen and it’s impossible to know where I will end up as a result. But here I am, slightly hung-over from gulping down the all that my life has to offer right now. After a shorter-than-usual incarceration in my shadows and past fears, I’ve broken out and am running free. 

From my decisions came consequences. From those consequences came depression. From my depression came my anger. Out of my anger came acceptance. Then with that acceptance, I acted. And I acted with all the fervor my too-long passive heart could muster.

I have a tendency of getting myself into patterns of relationships where the only acting I do is preemptive striking. I stop making decisions for myself because I’m afraid of losing something. Every action of mine is simply a reaction or comes from whatever I fear may happen. If there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that it’s better to act and make mistakes and possibly lose than to shrink into nothingness. I'm not alive to live small, I'm here to play big.

I went to the Grand Canyon with a dear friend after months of talking about it and waiting for something else to take me there. I was tired of waiting and, you know, even though it wasn’t what I imagined the trip would be like, it was perfect in everything it was. We saw about a hundred deer (and almost hit several of them), buffalo, killer bees, and a million stars. We slept in my car, talked about important things, and made friends with a guy who could’ve kicked us out of the park. And of course, we experienced the Grand Canyon. When I saw it then, it was more than I could’ve ever imagined and when I think about it now, it makes me cry. It’s funny how this place, a revered hole in the ground, began to fill its equal in my heart. All my questions I had had for the universe and for God became irrelevant when I chose to be there.

So I kept choosing. I gave my heart. I told someone I love things he probably already knew but had never explicitly heard. I broke promises. I bonded with a coworker I never particularly liked simply by being honest with her. I made new friends. I gave my time to my clients and helped someone step back from suicide. I empowered a family I work with. I was vulnerable with a group of friends in a fantastic midnight adventure. I got my ears pierced again. I spent time with people I love and got to know them better. I embraced spontaneity. I acted without expectation. I made decisions that may lead to consequences I’ve never faced before. I saw myself as I really am instead of trying to hide and I was simultaneously pleased and dismayed by what I saw. I got pissed off at a friend and told him exactly how I felt. I loved in all the ways I know how. And so much more… So much more that I don’t know how to share.

A part of 2 Nephi 2:26 “…And because that they are redeemed from the fall they have become free forever, knowing good from evil; to act for themselves and not be acted upon…”. I’m not perfect. I make poor decisions more often than not and I have to deal with the consequences. But from those, I've grown. My darkest moments have not been in making my mistakes; I have only gotten into truly dark places when I see my right to choose as something to be afraid of instead of something to learn with. The darkness is not so deep when I embrace my weakness, keep going, keep acting, and accept that even though I am imperfect, I am still loved. Freedom is acting for yourself. There is still freedom when we continue to choose even when we make what may be terrible mistakes. There is the opportunity to see things as they really are and to TRULY change. I don’t think life was ever about not making mistakes, or about being perfect (which is something I easily get caught up in). It’s about the process and choosing in the face of imperfection and it’s the only way to change.

Why not do what you want now? Why not live the live you truly desire today? What's stopping you besides you? Why wait for something else to hand you what you want? Go for it. Give up the one-day-I-will's and if-only-I-had-done's. Give up the fear. Choose by the yearnings of your own heart and do it with your own hands. 

My bicycle

I have a bicycle. His name is William. He’s a cheap yellow and black road bike. I picked him up on a whim when my mountain bike was stolen. He was my only means of transportation besides my own two feet for a long time. I remember my first 30 mile ride with William. I felt the whole world had opened up to me; compared to my old way of getting around and living in this world, my bicycle was heaven. Though I never intended to, I quickly fell deeply in love with cycling.

I started training for my first 100 mile ride. I rode every weekend and every weekday possible and I felt free. Whenever I had a problem, I rode my bicycle and found clarity. I found hope to live another day in Utah County. I found a place where depression and anxiety and all of my problems couldn’t touch me. I found a peace that I couldn’t access anywhere else. And it was great. I had inadvertently stumbled upon something that I never knew I needed or wanted. I felt I could live like that forever; just keep riding and riding and be eternally at peace with the world. After my first century ride, I still felt that way. It was grueling, I was completely beat, I got the worst sunburn of my life and I still got off my bike and smiled. I would do it again. I loved it.

I rode all winter and planned out what rides I would do the next summer. I’ll do century rides. Someday I’ll bike across America. Someday I’ll bike down the east coast. Someday I’ll bike in the Adirondacks. I can do anything.

But this spring something has changed. I’ve been riding more than ever, I feel stronger than I ever have, I’ve improved my cadence, and devoured cycling magazines, and rode another century. But I no longer feel invincible. I no longer feel at peace with William. And it’s funny because I think I’ve cried more tears while on my bicycle than is humanly acceptable but they’ve always been tears of healing and now they’re tears of frustration. I’ve grown, I’m faster, I’m stronger, and I finally know with a surety it’s possible for me to perform better and go farther and do all of the things I want to do. But my bicycle is holding me back. In order to do what I need and want to do, I need a bicycle that can withstand higher pressure, one made for long distances and speed, one that was made for who I am becoming. My wonderful, old bicycle is holding me back. The bicycle that I’ve loved for so long. The bicycle that has taken me thousands of miles. The bicycle that allowed me to discover a world I wouldn’t have known otherwise…

So I’m stuck with a decision. Do I fully accept that I have changed and need something better or do I stick around with William, the bicycle I love?

In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t about my bicycle at all.

The thing is, I’ve lived in a place without a figurative bicycle for a long time. I never really knew a life with one. Then I was inadvertently introduced to a lifestyle with one - with hope. A way of living and building relationships that I never knew existed. One that I never knew I wanted or needed. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am now with that small piece of hope I was offered and many times it has whisked me away on a journey to bigger, better things that I’ve always wanted but never had the courage or option to believe in. And now I’m here, with all my hard work behind me and the ever-pressing reality that I’m better, though nowhere near perfect, in front of me.

Even though it is good, it’s so hard to take this new reality and make it all that I am. It’s so hard to step forward and leave behind a way of living that has nothing to offer me now except a nostalgic set of shackles. It’s so hard to believe that somewhere down the line I can have the whole world and more if I would just keep going and accept the person I have the potential to become. Change the relationships that hold me back or simply move on. Just keep pedaling. Just keep growing. Stop looking toward the future of bigger and better things, and just live them now. None of this has been or will be easy or quick and it certainly won’t be comfortable but the only way I’m going to get there is through living in a way that doesn’t betray the things that I’ve learned to be true. Down the line maybe I’ll find someone who wants to live this way too.

I still love William. I still love everything I’ve been through and the means I’ve gotten to where I am. And, because of all that, I need a new bicycle and I need to let those things go. Down the line, maybe I’ll bike across America with someone who wants to take this journey with me.

Lessons from the Provo Tabernacle

I write this fervently and more as a message to myself. It is hard for me to post but as I’ve learned, it does no good for me or others to keep what I believe to myself. This is the crux of what I have been working towards for years.  And though I've learned this many times before, it is now my time to completely give up the person I used to be and fully embrace the one I’ve worked so hard to become. It is my turn to be vulnerable.

When I first saw the tabernacle after the fire, I thought it was a valiant effort to try and restore it but it really didn’t matter to me what would happen to it. I was sure construction crews and the money put in by the church would fix it, but I wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to rebuild from scratch instead of use the empty, forlorn looking shell left. It would just be another historical landmark anyway - dedicated to what ‘once was’ and not to what could be.

When it was announced the tabernacle would be made into a temple, I was surprised. I was even more surprised when construction began and the true state of the tabernacle was revealed. There was literally nothing but a bare shell wearing the scars of the fire. A dead carcass in my eyes. Soon, the foundation was removed and the building stood completely supported by stilts underground. The conical tops to the pillars that had once looked so stately, as though they were praising the heavens, were taken off. Surrounded by the dirt created by the construction crew, the brick looked faded and lifeless. The windows were no more. Even the walls which were deemed ‘salvageable’ looked like they could fall down at anytime.

I regret the way I looked at that building just as I regret the similar way I’ve looked at myself and others.

I drove past the soon-to-be temple last night, after a fire of my own. Feelings of all my inadequacies, past and present, haunted me like the soot from the flame. Hopelessness and guilt I felt had burned away all the good inside me. What would be the point in continuing on? Is there really anything in me worth salvaging? Is there really any good that can come from trying to fix me? How can I, in my current state, bless the lives of others as I’ve been asked to do, especially the lives of ones I deeply love? Not only bless their lives, but fix the hurt I had caused by lighting such a fire. I have ruined everything. If only I could be what I ‘once was’. If only I could return to that state where I was confident in my ability to stand up and keep trying. Where everything had a clear answer and the Truth had a strong hold in my heart. If only I could go back to that crucial moment and choose differently. Before the fire. Before the mistakes. I hadn’t felt such a hopelessness in years – I hadn’t felt so alone, so forgotten. Like no one believed in me or loved me. I certainly did not believe in or love myself.

The role I have been called to play in this life is as a support in other peoples’ lives. It is a gift I have to see the good in others, to understand them, and empower them in their efforts to grow. I don't mean that I'm always perfect in doing those things, but they are my responsibility. Thus, the most devastating trials in my life have been the result of me ignoring the prompting of others’ divine potential, and as a result helping them to set a fire. And in the act, I betray myself. I betray my own potential. I set a greater fire within my own soul and all I can do is wait for the flames to die down. It’s terrifying and painful to feel the burn and responsibility and to watch the destruction of myself and others... knowing that it all could have been avoided by truly loving another and not by acting in fear.

But as I looked at the massive construction sight through my tears and anxiety and loss, something else became clear to me. This hopeless looking building was going to be a temple. It once was a place where people came to worship God, and soon it will be a place of highest sanctity. A place where covenants are made for eternity. God’s house. Even after the destruction of it's initial purpose it will be a holier place. It will take a tremendous amount of work. It will take removing the foundation, the very thing that made it stand all this time, to make room for a new one. It will take removing the characteristics that once made it a work of art – the windows, the roof, the embellishments. It will take removing the wreckage from the inside and starting anew. It will mean standing naked where it has always stood in the center of Provo, for all to see the wreckage and to see the work. It will take the loyalty of those dedicated to fixing it -those who believe in its divine potential. It’s potential to not only be restored but to be greater than it ever was.

The reality is, there is no fire in this life that can leave us without hope for the future. The reality is, like the Provo tabernacle, I can be rebuilt for something greater than I can ever imagine. The reality is, Christ’s atonement can fix anything and though there is work to do, choosing to have faith in that power in the midst of the wreckage is the first step. The hardest part may be believing in yourself and believing in Christ. Being rebuilt may require a new foundation and it will definitely require the humility to let the construction crews come and possibly tear more of you down, see you in your most vulnerable state, and take away parts of your life that you never wanted to lose. It is true, the greater the destruction or trial, the more difficult it will be to have that hope. But from the greater trial comes the greater triumph. Everything that once was lost will be given back to you, and it will surpass everything you’ve ever imagined.

For those struggling in the throws of addiction, the loss of faith, the fires that were set without your control (disease, loss of a loved one, tragedy, etc), the cruelties and inherent unfairness of this life, there is hope. For those confused and afraid, who act in fear and not in love, and those who feel their fire will never end, there is hope. I’ve had but a taste of these things and hardly know or understand them all, but I do know there is someone who understands it all and He has a blueprint for you. There may be fire after fire. There will be setbacks - you will make mistakes. Even in your reconstruction you might fail and have to restart. AND there is still hope. Even if you feel there is only one more brick standing in your life, there is still hope. Be patient with yourself. Be patient with those who you know are struggling. Accept the help from others – you cannot do it alone. Not all is lost and it never will be. You have everything to gain. I have everything to gain. From the fire, there is hope. From the fire, I can learn. From the fire, I can start anew.

From this fire, I can be that temple the Lord wants me to become and that I want to become.

Al Capone

I bought my first car ever yesterday. I can hear all of you saying, “Congratulations! You’re a car owner! That’s so exciting! You have more freedom! Now you won’t get hit on while you’re riding the bus all the time!” And my roommates are simultaneously saying "Great! Now take me grocery shopping!" Don't worry, I will. And thanks guys. Really. I appreciate your support. Though I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the ample amount of attention men gave me on the bus – I’ll take what I can get. But yes, now I own a car and I have absolutely no money and I feel really…. naive.

I heard all the warnings and I vaguely understood the people who told me all car dealers get off by bargaining and overcharging. Lists and lists of advice were given to me and I took them all and forgot most of it. I wasn’t worried. Who would try to rip me off? Sweet, honest me? So I walked in alone with the mistaken confidence of a Little Leaguer playing with the Yankees. I’m an adult, guys. I can handle this myself. I mean look at me: 21 years old, fresh out of college, I have a full time job with benefits, I got a loan with no trouble even though I have no credit. Next on the list is clearly to buy a car. Put me in coach, I'm ready to play. My confidence comes from the idea that if I’m decisive, I have control. Guess what? Being confident and decisive does not guarantee good decision making.

I guess so far in life I’ve gotten by pretty well by being honest with people and I’ve learned that in relationships, being straightforward invites others to be honest as well. Apparently these rules don’t work quite as expected when you’re buying a car. I can be tough and I can say exactly what I want and not accept any other offers, but only genuinely so; not when I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. I’m ashamed to admit, my understanding of cars is limited to how to drive one without dying and to knowing names of things like a “timing belt” but having no clue what they do. So I walked into a deal initially thinking “This is awesome! I’m being so responsible and I’m being an adult and I did research and took care of this all by myself and now I can go grocery shopping WHENEVER I WANT and I don’t have to wake up super early to ride the bus and….” Shortly after, as I drove home from the gas station, realizing I have no more money from my first real paycheck, and realizing I forgot to screw the gas cap back on before I drove home, and as I smelt a burning rubber fume coming from the front of the car, I started to cry.  Tears of distress. Tears I’ve cried before for making out with a boy I didn’t even like. Except this boy is a car and I can’t just wake up the next morning and ignore his phone calls because I owe $4000 to drive him. I’m stuck with him for the foreseeable future and I barely learned his name…

His name is Capone by the way. Like Al Capone. Despite his potential problems and the fear I feel that he’s going to steal all my money, he has a certain amount of class. He’s a 2002 luxury Mitsubishi Diamante, with wood paneling and a smooth, powerful drive. He even looks like he has a mustache. All the reviews I read about cars like him were positive; if there ever was a loyal family car, this is it. But at what cost? And is it true? Or will I end up with a figurative horse head in my bed for taking an offer that probably should’ve been refused? Only time will tell I suppose… So far, I’ve been comforting myself by eating pretzels and cheese (my favorite combination at the moment) and by repeating to myself in the mirror “Liz, this may be a horrible mistake, but it will DEFINITELY not be the worst mistake of your life”. Oddly enough, that is comforting to me even though I have plenty more probably worse experiences than this one to go through…

I’m a firm believer that experience is the best teacher, It’s just hard to accept such a notion when I’m actually experiencing a potentially unpleasant, costly mistake. But as I told a friend about my experience, he simply said “welcome to adulthood”. I guess this is a right of passage of sorts. I can now join the, I’ve-been-hustled-by-a-car-dealer club. And I mean last night I lost my car ownership virginity which is quite a feat. Let’s just hope Capone was the guy to put out for.

I think I need to go biking.

Liz vs. Technology

It’s time for me to write about something that’s been on my mind for quite a while now. Behold, my second most greatest fear:

Yes, as it appears, I am afraid of smart phones. It is second only to my fear of being alone and it’s followed closely by my fear of the Amazon jungle (but seriously guys, the Amazon is terrifying. We don’t even know what’s in there). It’s actually not the smart phones that scare me, it’s technology. Because slowly but surely we are all going to become part of the Borg, like that poor man in the commercial. And this is a selling point for technology??? It’s supposed to be appealing to be turned into a machine like all those sci-fi movies warn against being? I just don’t quite get it

I mean… let’s think about this for a second. Or rather, let me tell you my thoughts and you laugh at me from a distance. There are cars that drive themselves. The entertainment industry can create holograms of dead people that are scarily realistic. If we can do that for entertainment, what does that mean for agencies that have entertainment as the last thing on their priority list? (e.g. the CIA). Ever heard of Google glasses? Well with those, you barely even need hands any more. Especially since your car can drive itself. And I mean has anyone even really considered touch screens??? They make no sense. Heck, computers don’t make sense. When I had a desk job sometimes I would get suddenly get hit with disbelief of the existence computer screen and would just have to stop and think about it for a few minutes. You move around this thing on a desk (called a “mouse”. What?) and a little pointer on a screen “clicks” virtual things and pulls up different images and information from ALL OVER THE WORLD. Like, I understand buttons ok? With a button I know there’s some little current of electricity traveling from one point to the other telling the electricity gods to pull up a new picture on the screen. Computers are just, like, boxes of electricity with a keyboard of buttons and somehow programmers (or electricity wizards) make the buttons mean something and turn the electricity into pictures and stuff. That makes a marginal amount of sense. But touch screens? THERE ARE NO BUTTONS! THE WHOLE DAMN THING IS BUTTON! How. Does. This. Work. I don’t know. Don’t ask me. And I mean, don’t even get me started on the internet. The internet = magic signals being sent from the earth to satellites to earth then back to space and back to earth to your smart phone. I mean….. these signals are all around us being sent back and forth FROM SPACE…. Literally. Like, stick out your hand and wave it around a bit. Guess what? You’re touching the internet! Yup that’s Google and Facebook and probably a bunch of porn websites and whole lot of other stuff at your fingertips… just floating around you and going right through your body. I mean if you could see all the stuff that’s in the air right now, it would blow your mind……

I sound like I’m on LSD.

Ok so yeah technology is pretty cool. I use it of course – I’m using it right now. Did you know the common smart phone has more computing power than the computers used to send man to the moon? Don’t completely trust that statement, I saw it on Pinterest. Technology has brought the world together (ish) and made relationships easier (maybe but not really) and made ideas more accessible (yeah). And Facebook is great to keep connected with people blah blah blah blah… I mean I can’t imagine graduating college without the interwebs. Science is cool. It’s cool that mankind creates things that make regular tasks easier. Ever heard of the cotton gin? That was pretty useful in its day right? I mean that’s all we ever talked about in middle school when the industrial revolution came up. Steam engines? Yeah ok. Cars? I sorta understand those. They have lots of wires and stuff and batteries and oil and wheels which I like. But I mean… CD’s were stretching it for me…

So I got a smart phone for Christmas. And it’s pretty cool. I’ve had a weird jealousy of people who can take a picture and instantly put it on the interwebs and now I can do it too! But I really don’t think I can handle this kind of technology. At least once a day I catch myself just touching my phone in disbelief… the whole thing is a button. A smooth button-less button that I can play Words With Friends on…. And it gets the internet everywhere. Also, does anyone know what 3G means? I think it might mean 3 Gods (because it’s a capital G) because it must take more than one internet god to make the internet organize itself from the air around me and channel through my phone so quickly. And I mean I like my phone but touch screens are hard to use… I unwittingly call someone at least once a day just because I caress or tap my phone is just the wrong way and don’t realize it till it’s too late. Have you thought about the way you touch your phone? It’s almost human like…

And that’s the next step right? I mean people go through withdrawals without their phones or computers or i-whatevers, so why not make it so you can never accidentally forget or have to leave your technology? If people have trouble not getting on a computer or putting down their phone for a whole day, the next logical step is to literally have technology made part of you so you never have to leave it. Need to make a phone call? Just use the touch pad on your arm and you’ll be connected. Need the internet? The mechanical addition to your eyes will project a screen for you and you can just touch the air like a screen to get the information you need. Or hey, want to take a picture? Just blink your eyes. Sounds convenient right? We’ll just implant that phone into your arm. And then you can’t ever escape the “convenience” of it all. And you’ll always be connected to the world and then you’ll just be an IP number and then you’ll get more implants because technology is just so dang cool and who needs nature and human contact anyway? And then the world won’t be the world any more but will be called the “collective” and the government will be the hive and we’ll live on a floating cube ship and…

Resistance is futile.