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.

Self-reflection in a lazy river

Graduation. Supposedly some life-changing event. Some recognizable feat. Something to be congratulated. Something to give you that added significance to your life and your title. Why yes, I am a Bachelor of Science. At some point within the next decade of my life I’ll be a Master or a Doctor. Fancy. In truth, nothing will really change in my life except the titles. I’ll go from single-student-part-time office assistant-researcher-TA to single-unemployed-college graduate. Excuse me, single-unemployed-Bachelor of Science.

Graduating should be exciting right? I mean this is the sitcom period of life: going to clubs, dating tons of people, having a job that’s rarely portrayed on screen and goofing off the rest of the time, hanging out with strange but somehow loveable friends in some big city… all conveniently set at prime time getting the viewership of 20-30 year olds in “similar” situations… except by similar I mean quite a bit less hilarious, with little to no satisfying wrap-ups after a half hour conflict, and the added bonus of the sorrow, loneliness, and pain of real life. I mean I often find my life hilarious and fun, in an unscripted, sarcastic, exaggerated, audacious, and reckless sort of way. But it's a lot more than that. Not usually like a sitcom.

Anyway, I’ll still be in Provo, the place I was planning on leaving as soon as I could. I’ll still be in student housing, which I also planned on leaving ASAP. I’ll still be car-less, though I’m coming to the realization more and more that a bike simply won’t cut it for real employment so that will have to change. (Sorry, William. You are the most wonderful and reliable of my possessions and I’m still amazed that your non-professional grade frame has taken me hundreds of miles). People I love are still leaving. I’ll still have the same problems and worries and misunderstandings and far-off hopes that may never come to fruition. To me, graduation has been a long, drawn out settling in of disillusionment.

I meet people who have these plans and have been places, traveled the world, done things and I wonder, why isn’t that me? Why didn’t I do that? Why don’t I do that right now? I mean I’m graduating… I can do that stuff now, right? I’ve scrambled through the memories of the last few years of my life, desperately looking for something I must have missed. I mean I had plans and options before… Peace Corps, move to LA, Teach for America, etc etc etc. There was supposed to be a clear SOMETHING to do after school I thought… I mean what was the point of all that? To get a piece of paper? To get a job? To what? Did I not do something right? The only clear place I know I’ve royally screwed up and missed things is in my relationships, romantic and otherwise. That in itself has been the biggest and most influential trial I’ve been through my whole life really. But even in that realization and working hard to mend things that have been broken, I’ve found little solace. That journey at least I know is bigger and meant to fill my whole life, unlike the others meant for these few years. So where am I supposed to go?

No matter how many times I learn or realize that life is never about the outcome, I somehow always get sucked into that way of thinking. I mean I’ve been rearing at the reigns this whole time to go do something with my life and now that I’m free, nothing. I feel no pull or purpose. It's like I need something to fight or to push me in my life. The beautiful thing about school for me was working relentlessly towards a goal and loving the challenge and the things I learned. But now I’m at the end. I’m at the completion of this journey and I feel utterly lost, burnt out, and strangely stuck. The plans I make and the things I want are falling through. I’ve been desperately holding on to potential hopes and reasons for me to be here, when I should be letting go. I’m not good at letting go. It feels wrong and illogical. And so the process of disentangling me from my ideals and letting them float away has become what feels like cutting off life vests and buoys to save myself from drowning. Not seemingly practical or advisable.

The funny thing is, when really looking at the big picture, I think I’m trying to save myself from drowning in a 3 foot deep lazy river. Probably the only reason I’m not moving is because I’ve completely entrapped myself with the inner tubers and floaties of my ideals so as not to die. In consequence I have created an plastic, air-filled blockage in the vascular theme park ride that is my life. Some hypothetical life guards are probably at this moment telling me that only one inner tube is allowed per guest in the lazy river due to safety reasons. In addition, I also have this wonderful disposition where everything in life is part of some deep, existential essence and thus any ephemeral crisis is a meaningful and agonizing death. Though the richness of success is also fully experienced and profoundly beautiful, the somewhat ridiculousness of the way I feel things is always at the back of my mind. It’s not that what I feel is wrong, it’s just not lighthearted by any means. I’m pretty sure studies have suggested that this kind of feeling leads to increased risks of heart attacks and other such things that I really have no clue about. Heart attack from fighting everything has been added to the list of likely ways I will die (right after skin cancer and before reckless endangerment).

Others have learned the art of living freely, without fighting, and I guess, really, that’s what I’m probably supposed to get out of this. That nothing is ever really in my hands, yet it all is. It’s mine to act WITH but not ON. It’s mine to be with but not mine to control. I think that might be freedom. Finding the balance of accepting the world for what it is and relinquishing my ever-futile hold on it, while existing purposefully and honestly. Because, though there is a potential of really getting hurt and dying and tons of horrible things happening, those things are going to happen whether or not I'm desperately trying to control them. I'm too busy trying to not drown that I forget I can swim.

Now to find a job I suppose. That’s what single-unemployed-Bachelors of Science adults do, right?

Life isn't fair

Life isn’t fair.

I remember my dad saying this to me in the middle of a fight. I don’t remember what we were fighting about, I just remember screaming “it’s not fair!” thinking maybe if I said it loud enough, whoever was in control of such things would magically make it fair.  At my father’s retort, I cleverly suggested “well shouldn’t we be trying to make it as fair as possible?”

My answer is no, 15 year old Liz. Sorry I betrayed you.

I’ve always considered myself a hard worker. If I want something, I will put everything I have on the line for it. I believe in a good, honest day’s work. I believe in working for what I want. At first glance, it seems I hold the traditional American values: work hard and climb to top, because, by golly, if you work hard, you deserve the top, you will achieve your dreams, and you will be successful. But I think this mindset is precisely the problem. The problem with capitalism, socialism, and all the other isms you can think of. The problem with our generation. The problem with me.

Working hard isn’t the problem. Doing what you want isn’t the problem. The problem is the step taken after. The idea that after all the hard work, the world owes me.  I deserve the outcome that I’ve worked for. Hard work becomes a means to an end. I will get A’s in all my classes to get a degree to get a job to go to grad school to get a PhD to publish papers to… I will do whatever it takes to get what I want because it’s the end result that matters, not the in-between.

But what happens when the outcome isn’t delivered? When, even after all the hard work and the grade-A effort, you fail. What if after putting it all on the line, the result isn’t what you intended. Truth be told, this happens the all the time. People fail. I fail. People fail me. The system fails me. It all together doesn’t work, despite my best efforts. The world still owes me, damn it! I don’t deserve this result! Where is what I’m looking for and where are you, God?

Here are some common themes in the answers that run through my head:

“Just trying a couple times isn’t going to cut it, you need to persevere! It’ll come eventually”

“God knows best. It just isn’t time for you to get what you want yet”

“You must have done something wrong. The system works, you just don’t work correctly in it”

“Outcome X probably isn’t good for you anyway. It’s not your fate. Your failure is a sign.”

The replies are plenty, but they never really cut at the heart of reality. The fact of the matter is, the outcome was NEVER the point. Because the truth, at least the truth as I’ve come to realize, is that all the important things in life can never be earned. They have to be given.

Because how, ever, could I earn my life? How could I ever earn someone’s love? How could I ever earn the feeling of someone wrapping their arms around me? How can new parents earn the feeling of holding a newborn child? How could any of us earn forgiveness, especially after terribly hurting someone? How can we earn those moments that stick with us because they’re simply too big to forget? They all have to be given. There is no system, or formula, or rule book, or whatever, for these things, no matter how hard we try to reduce it.

For the entitled, the “given” is an easy escape from trying. Because if it doesn’t matter what work I do or don’t if I’m given everything, why should I work? To them I say the same thing: the point is NEVER the outcome. The point was never to “get”, whether or not you work for it.

The point is to be. Here and now, regardless of what happens tomorrow, we are alive. And while receiving those important things - those things we want so badly - is completely out of our hands, we have every opportunity to put them in someone else’s. We have the opportunity to give to someone else. Working hard does not have to be some cost-benefit analysis focused on the end result. Instead, it can be an expression of love. Because that work means something. Because it is something you believe in. Because that work signifies that even though the result may not be the desired, you were genuine in your effort. It is an expression of love for all that has been given you.

Has it not been said “…Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body more than raiment?...For [it is known] that ye have need of all these things… take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself”. Applied here, regardless of tomorrow, we can live today. We are more than the things we want or even what we need.

So, no. Life isn’t fair. It wasn’t ever meant to be. 

I swam in this lake

I swam in this lake. On top of a mountain. 

Life is damn good. Life is so damn good.

Do you ever have those moments where you just feel so alive, you can’t quite be contained? Like the air is filled with electricity and every breathe is just this call to go and do and belong to something? Like nothing can stop you, like anything you want is at your fingertips, like where you are is exactly where you need to be? Like even though things aren’t exactly what you thought they would be, they are perfect and beautiful and vibrant and fill your whole being with purpose and acceptance…

I know I write about a lot of more difficult topics and maybe it seems that I focus on the negative too much, but there is a reason for that focus. I believe that finding those truly pure, beautiful moments in life requires an acceptance of it’s exact opposite. Not only an acceptance, but a willingness to throw oneself into the possibility that the situation might turn out either way and there’s no way to control the outcome. Difficult situations are important. And wonderful, pleasing moments are important too. But you can’t have one without the possibility of the other..

I don’t want to run away from painful things because I don’t want to run away from wonderful things. I don’t want a dichotomy in my life that isn’t real. Because it all can be beautiful and I don’t ever want to limit myself or deny myself the possibility of feeling and experiencing what life throws at me. Or what I throw myself into. Life is too short for me to live like that.

The two times I’ve climbed Mount Timpanogos, this concept has been very clear to me. And it was clear to me as I crossed the finish line of my first 100 mile bike ride. And after I finished biking up Squaw Peak. And as I’ve sat in silence with people I love. After I’ve spoken my mind even though I could lose everything. After I’ve sincerely been with another person as they’ve shared some of the toughest things they’ve been through. After I’ve asked for forgiveness. After I’ve granted forgiveness. After I’ve said I love you. After I’ve lost and after I’ve won… I just feel so… full. So vibrant. So confident. So at one with everything around me, to the point where it’s not about me at all, yet I am completely me. Like I am exactly where I want to be and it’s perfectly ok to be where I am. Part of the innermost magnificence of our existence. Part of the ultimate heart of hearts.

And in those times, and other times as I’ve allowed myself to feel, life is so damn good. Life is so perfect in it’s incomplete, messy, inconsistency. Life is glorious. Though everything seems to be out of place to my rational mind, I’ve come to realize, I’ve never known what it means for things to be in place. And that very thought, the fact that I think I know the why’s and how’s of what my life is supposed to be, is the one that stops me from seeing how truly exquisite life is. But it’s there. It’s all there. Just there waiting to be seen and felt and heard. Just waiting to let you in on its secrets.

Life is so damn good.