Our Minds and Hearts...

Physical pain is only a symbol of true pain which is of an emotional and spiritual nature. When that idea is entirely understood the most horrendous and agonizing physical traumas a body can endure become wholly bearable.

There are times when a person just has to write regardless of how busy they are. But I would not give up my healthy and well rounded schedule now to revert back to numberless nights of sleepless writing.

The fact is right now I’ve never been more able—and stable in my life. I enjoy my work greatly, I love church, I love church ball, I love tai chi, I love skating, I love being able to function properly for more than moments in a day, I love my schedule, and I, for the first time I think in my life, I see that my future is really bright. I understand that these things aren’t my source of peace but rather external blessings from finding it within myself. I believe that, yes, there are things that cause us to be greatly happy, but true peace and wellness come from our own depths, and it is brought to the light when we search with all of our hearts. If we always only rely on another person or external things to cause our happiness we will never attain wholeness because our happiness is dependent upon another.

Our minds and our hearts—our souls are, as if I could say designed from before existence to extend our abilities and consciousness into Eternity. The ever critical mind vs. the ever forgiving heart clash and cause much confliction of thought and desire. But the spirit of a man chooses its own reality by bringing to pass what he cannot deny to be true.

Can a soul ever completely shun something it considers to be a part of itself? Can a person hate something he/she considers beautiful? Can a man deny his conscience when all else so easily dismiss it as unimportant or contrary to what one should believe?

I speak all of these things with the ultimate idea of humility within the grain of my words. I can only love when I am passionate, my passions only are real when I am persistent in truth, my truths are only true when I choose goodness when I am alone, my solitude is only loneliness when I am carnal, my solemnity is only grave when I think only of myself, my conscience is only clear when I am simply the person that I am, and I am only me when at last I am passionate about those things that I love.

Not enough time...

There is just too much to write about. If I were to share everything interesting and incredible that I observe or witness on a daily basis than I would never stop writing, that is until I finished writing about the psychological excursion of continuing to write everything there was that was interesting in any given day, because once I ran out of things to write about I would inevitably start writing about me writing and how that effects my perspective and understanding on myself and the world.

Well, here we go. Don’t fret, I am still reading Man’s Search for Meaning. It is taking longer than expected because, and admittedly I haven’t read too many books, but it is quickly becoming one of my all time favorite books ever, and I find myself reading and re-reading pages over and over again because of how enthralling it is. The singular conscience is such a marvelous and unique thing because we’ll never be not our conscience, and Frankl’s portrayal of the conscience and scruples of how he and others lived under those trying circumstance, in my opinion is more precious than gold. It is simply incredible to read his perspective outside of himself of those instances, and though, try as he might, as we all do when creating something profoundly incredible or beautiful from the knowledge of our experiences to be humble and meek, he must and truthfully does have a sense of great accomplishment because of those things that he has written. Though it portrays the grueling life of a prisoner at those times, Frankl did it in such a way that is not gruesome to read or understand. In my opinion the book is a beautiful piece of literature because of the experiences described, and the way in which they were described. He did his conscience good when fulfilling what it commanded him to do. There will be a full review when I am finished posted in my Book Club.

There is too much to write and not enough time. I need to go, but just know that I was planning on writing so much more. I will be back later. Keep in touch, thanks and goodbye.

1st Nephi 4: 7-18

I guess you’ve noticed that I’m not writing every day. Don’t worry it’s a good thing, I’ve noticed that when I’m actually doing everything that I want to do in a day I don’t have a whole lot of time to write nearly as much as I usually do. It is good though and I am doing well. This is something I wrote however the other day, so enjoy.  

I’ve been feeling surprisingly good lately, and it feels really–good… despite what I may have alleged in the past I have always believed deep down that happiness and peace is a deliberate choice on ones part. Just keep reading. I only say that, meaning that true peace cannot come from an external source outside of oneself. It’s just that we can’t choose it until we’ve learned how to, and there are indeed many external sources that impede our ability to learn how and to even choose. Baby steps my friends. I believe there is however, a time when it isn’t appropriate to choose to be at peace, and at these times I don’t believe one really can, and that is when we mourn, and who am I to choose or dictate the ways in which a soul mourns and for how long. One thing I know is that we are all different in our abilities, and especially in the ways in which we handle grief, so I can judge no one harshly.

Gaining peace is not so much for me a search for happiness as it is a yearning for wholeness. The church, regardless of anyone’s conflicting opinions on any topic within the church is especially designed for those searching for wholeness, because it teaches the ends of truth within its basic structure of faith and hope. However I think that most within the church are the very ones who struggle with finding peace the most, because of that very atmosphere of the depths of truth it so easily grasps. It touches the very depths of our spirits when we are surrounded by it but then afterward, our spirits our left to translate those touching feelings through an imperfect, often times broken body of flesh, bone and brain into a world where those types of feelings aren’t very common place to think about, talk about, or even to know about. Even in the halls of church one cannot reiterate to another the feelings and observations of one’s own existence as seen through ones own conscience, because we are our own conscience and no one will ever be that other than our own self.

This is so interesting; I pick up and chaperone a pair of autistic twins named Alex and Aaron for family home evening and sometimes church. We were destined to be friends because they, within their own worlds of Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and many, many more interesting movies and shows communicate with each other whilst hardly saying a word outside of their memorized movies. It’s like they are the movies, and they don’t even give me a second thought when I start unconsciously talking to myself when driving in the car with them, because that’s what they’re doing, just talking, with no worries of who might think they’re weird, or who might criticize them, or make fun of them.

The truth is I love the church with all of my heart, and I love the scriptures. I just read the account of Nephi walking by faith into Jerusalem to find the records of his fathers. I’ve always really enjoyed the enthralling story of Nephi struggling with beheading Laban… Jeese, after writing that I suppose that sounds kind of strange that I enjoy it… why would I enjoy a man getting beheaded? Anyway, it’s a great account, and I noticed something reading this account this time that I haven’t before. The scriptures are full of stories and things of the like depicting the spiritual nature of things and how to determine what is good and what is not, but I say that this event, the way Nephi wrote it is utterly remarkable in its description of how one interprets the feelings of the spirit as opposed to one’s own natural desires and feelings. I won’t repeat the verses now, and I say that all of the scriptures are good, but 1^st Nephi 4: 7-18 are some of the most beautiful scriptures depicting the inner struggle with understanding and following the spirit. What does he do? he doesn’t just jump right into doing something, these verse describe his thought process of the whole situation and of events leading to that situation. I really could do a complete psychological study of the human mind and spirit based off of these few verses but I won’t do that here and now because daylight is burning and I’ve got other things to attend to. until next time my friends, and read those verses too. Goodbye.   

Day 1

May 1^st, 2011, Day 1.

Well, today was a solid first day of a journey. I really am needing to go to sleep right now because it is late and I am really tired, so, sorry for the short first entry. I am feeling a great entry tomorrow though so stay tuned. Goodnight my dearest friends. Thank you.

Dusty Treasures...

I had an interesting day today. I saw a slew of different people from all corners of my life. It was very strange needless to say. I felt as an observer of people and emotions. Firstly, this morning I met with a man who has utterly changed my life for the better and is still helping me through a lot of issues. Secondly, for some reason, and not to say I didn’t want to, but the thought popped into my head to call a good friend of mine who recently has gotten married. We played some legit street ball and reminisced about the good ol’ days. We talked like how we used to talk when we were best friends from years past. Then, I briefly skated with my current best friend and went to BOP where I saw John, the owner of Board of Provo who I haven’t seen for what seems as though a year. Then, upon deciding to head home, I had the great idea to stop at Macey’s and grab a Jones. I still haven’t decided if doing this thing is a good or bad idea for my psyche, but I continue to do it regardless. But, there is, on any given day I decide to grab a Jones, a pleasant acquaintance waiting at the end of the checkout counter bagging my groceries. A girl whose name I have long forgotten, but remember from my Provo High seminary class. Every time it seems she is there and over the years it has become somewhat of an unspoken, unofficial tradition to do nothing more or less than to casually wave and smile at each other as I pass her by with Jones in hand. I however did not see her there this time, so I checked myself out and walked out whilst waving at no one. But, on the way to my car I nearly had a panic attack as I scrambled to open my locked car door. I do say that I am not spending any more time in Provo, or even at Macey’s than I ever have, but I am oddly bumping into and seeing a dramatic increase in past acquaintances, and I just don’t know how to take that or what to do about it. Should I lessen my visits to Provo? Should I get over my issues? I don’t know, is it irrational of me to scramble into my car when confronted with a memory? Maybe it is, but don’t judge me according to that until you get to know me better… then you can judge me all you want… Then, as I was making my way into Orem something happened. I don’t know how to describe it. Have you ever seen your life flash before your eyes? Literally, flash before your eyes in an instant…driving in a car going the opposite direction? I say that it happens on more occasions than just the one before you are about to die. Whether it was a figment of my imagination (which it very well could have been) or an actual reality, the physical nature of that quick scene that flashed before my eyes was enough to provoke memories that have seemingly been lost within hallways that have long been abandoned. Our minds are made up of nothing other than hallways, ruts, and crevasses, hallways of thoughts, ideas, and memories; deep carved ruts of persistent action called addictions; and crevasses due to trauma that have either scarred over or have been infected with a sickness. I do say that when all of these things combine for the perfect storm within the head it causes one to act and react in less than “normal” or healthy ways, which inevitably causes adverse consequences, which only make the situation worse than it ever was in the first place.

But what of the life that flashed before my eyes? It was odd the conflicting feelings, I didn’t feel any intolerable pain, but rather, I felt a sorrow that couldn’t escape me, nonetheless I also at moments felt genuinely happy when the sorrow wasn’t surfacely present, because when all of the people were scrambling and rushing out of those now abandoned hallways, in their rush to leave many of them dropped and left behind treasures upon those dusty floors that I found as I walked them all alone at this time whilst I drove home. The sorrow came from the immediate scene, but it was the old, dusty treasures that caused me to genuinely smile.   

An Analytical Approach 2...

I want to make it clear that I have never used or abused drugs, or have ever ingested anything alcoholic. I am just writing my experiences from my understanding and view point.

There is a feeling that creeps up in me often that causes me to start to panic. It is this feeling that has crippled me from attaining any sense of consistent reliability within my work and school, and relationships. When I start to feel this way I run down to my room, pull out my laptop and write, and I read the things I have written previously. This eases my panic state greatly and it’s like I can breathe again and I become calm. The truth is, I imagine this is how a drug addict feels when he needs his fix. But I ask the question, what is it that anybody does, addict or not, when they start to feel not very good? They naturally reach out for, desire and yearn for the things they “love” and want. I ask another question. I don’t claim to know much about the brain other then what I know about my own brain and how it affects me. I ask what is the difference between anything that we really like or like to do, and the straight up physical sensations of chemical substances, just on an extreme end of the scale? Everything we do alters and changes our brain, it’s just that drugs do them on a greater more direct scale. I use the example, but it is only one example and can be related to nearly anything I think on largely different scales, but I use the example of people who skydive. People who are attracted to doing this thing consistently are attracted to it because it is an extreme rush and it elates the mind and senses. I think that this is the case for nearly anything that anybody does on utterly less extreme scales. What is grief other than a symptom of withdrawal from loved ones?

I, upon learning about the damage to my brain have pondered and wondered greatly as to why this is. I now have physical evidence of this trauma to my brain, but have known for quite awhile that there was something wrong. The truth is I know when the physical damage occurred because I felt with all of the agony and long term suffering that came with it portions of my brain suffocating and dying when it did, but finding evidence that supports my claim is nearly impossible. This is why no one knows my path. I do not raise myself up above others but I say that I know what it means to grieve, and I have been to the depths of its extreme end and experienced things that I know not many others have within that process. I do not admit to saying that loved ones are comparable to elicit drugs, but I believe that the withdrawal symptoms can be very similar to the experiences of extreme, tremendous, and sickening grief, from not only separation from loved ones but deprivation of those you dearly love, and also being, at least within the mind of the sick at the time shunned by those very loved ones, as if the air is saying coldly, “don’t breathe me.” I haven’t searched in depth upon the effects of substance withdrawal as relating to what I am trying to say yet, but I have briefly looked around online for info. I have read several bits of information about the affects of cold turkey withdrawal online from various sources. One thing I read stated concerning certain types of substances states:  These drugs gradually alter your brain chemistry, which is why it takes several weeks for them to really start "working." By stopping cold turkey, you're basically slamming your brain from its altered state. Basically, it's like blunt force trauma to the brain. As a result, this sends the brain into chaos and of course, this affects our neurotransmitters and central nervous system.

I want to make it clear that I have never abused drugs or ever drank anything alcoholic, but I know what it feels to be drunk and high, but not because of any physical choice upon my part, and I suppose if I were to say that to someone they would be turned off by it because I stated that I knew what it was like to be high, but I say why would anybody be turned off or turn away anyone who needs help. I do and have needed help for years. I have been crippled and have felt crippled for years when it comes to being able to function properly and normally in life. It was so bad that I thought that God had damned me because I couldn’t do simple things in life, but it is my brain. Nothing will ever change anything that has already happened, even though at my very worst within my desperate halls of delusions I have utterly believe that I will find myself one day opening my eyes and being sixteen again. One can’t imagine the things that my mind has succumbed to believing because of the utter shock in which it found itself. The parts of it that were suffocating away led me to believe the most ridiculous, sad, and pathetic things one could ever imagine. I didn’t believe reality and I couldn’t tell what was real. I didn’t believe that I was real when I was eternally and desperately struggling with trying not to hate people I’d loved from my years of childhood to adulthood…to be continued…

Beautiful

No extravagant verses or intricate words, or any complex rhymes or lyrics, or any amount of fancy terminology can ever say what the simple word “beautiful” means when applied to the night sky. It is beautiful and it is nothing more complicated than that. I love it, I love the stars and I love the heavens, they mean everything to me because they were there for me, and they will always have my childlike wonder and awe and appreciation. As cliché as it sounds I really do see myself in that ocean of stars, they mirror my heart with their grand expanse from horizon to horizon while simultaneously expressing their divine innocence. If you’d like to know a secret of the ages, go outside at night and look up into the sky and ask it a question that has been weighing upon your mind. A question about anything, and as you think of your question as you would think of it within a prayer, you will see the right answer within the stars more clearly than you’ve ever seen anything before in your entire life. The night sky is a giant reflecting pool of grandeur, beauty, innocence, and love. It is a pure testimony of the most divine principles of goodness and truth and it will share nothing other than its truth with those who wonder to look up at night. It is the night sky, and it is beautiful.