I'll Drop My Burden

I'm hesitant to post this one, but the experience really effected me, and it was very therapeutic to write about it.  And remember, if you or a loved one (or even just a liked one, or whatever) are even close to being in need, please remember the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is always available at 1-800-273-8255.

--

The night is dark, his mind is darker. He sits on the floor of a quiet garage. All windows and doors are secure.  His car idles. At the back of his car, he connects a hose to the tailpipe and, as his phone rings, he puts the hose into his mouth and drifts away, away, away.

“…For life is quick in passing,

“Tis as a single day.”¹

Life passes especially quickly when we expedite our expiration date. Every day as I leave the hospital after radiation treatment, I pass a newsstand. All week long, several of the covers are devoted to a woman who is choosing to end her life.² Her promised suicide, designed to outrun her brain cancer’s sprinting death march, sparks outrage, compassion, and introspection across the country and within my own heart. She is me, and I am her—innocent bystanders to cancer carving a home in our brains. But our solutions look so different. She is traveling the world and keeping her loved ones close, doing television interviews and looking confident. I barely leave the mattress on the floor of my lonely apartment, two hundred miles from my husband, sleeping my days away as clumps of hair fall to the floor. It is unclear who is really winning their fight with cancer.

A year later, I am restless. Every moment is poisoned by the unfairness of my plight. I suffered more than anyone I see, yet I deserved it less. I lost more than anyone I see, while they have everything they ever wanted. I cried for lost dreams more than anyone I see, and they take their peace for granted. I stew in a thick pot of resentment, focusing behind me, on the trauma of my cancer.

Two years later, I am drifting off to sleep next to my husband, when he receives a text message.

Austin*:          I just want to say thank you for all your family has done for me over the years

Husband:         Of course my brother! You are like family to us. What’s up?

Austin:            I’m checking out man, I’m done.

My husband shows me the texts. We look at each other, somewhere between puzzled and horrified. For the first time in our married life, my response is not, “Just deal with it in the morning; it’s late.” My husband calls Austin and I breathlessly hover near the phone to listen, worry clouding my face.

            Austin:            “Hello?”

            Husband:         “Hey, man, I got your text.  What’s going on?”

Austin:            (flatly) “Yeah, I’m over it, it’s not worth it, I’m just checking out. Thanks, though, for all that you and your family has done for me over the years. I’ll never forget your parents, they treated me like a son.”

Husband:         “Of course, my brother. You are family to us. But what do you mean ‘checking out?’”

Austin:            (laughing) “Just checking out, brother, just ending all this…”

Husband:         “Austin, where are you?”

Austin:            “I’m done, I’m done, I’m just…done.”

Husband:         “Austin? Austin? Are you okay? Where are you?”

Austin stops talking. My husband continues to text and call him for the next five minutes, without response. Then, as I helplessly look on with a hand on his shoulder, my husband frantically calls a series of police departments, trying to remember Austin’s home address out on Staten Island. When the police arrive at Austin’s home, his wife reports that he is not there. She suggests a couple places where he may be.

Time drags on; we lay silently in bed with ominous tension, hearts pounding with dread. When the police finally arrive at Austin’s workplace, stunned officers look through a window to find Austin slumped onto the floor, his mouth around a hose connected to a car’s tailpipe.  Police break glass to get into the garage, desperate to try to save him. The shadow of carbon monoxide discolors Austin’s distorted face. Although medics say he was literally moments from death, hovering between life and total darkness, Austin is revived.

The next day my husband receives a message from Austin’s wife.  She admits that they are divorcing and that she had already kicked him out. Her words pierce deep when she says, “You saved his life.”

I cannot stop the argument from surfacing, like the young woman planning her physician-assisted suicide, Austin and I are the same: he is me, and I am him. Although my past year has been full of therapy and doctors, I too was threatening my life by simply refusing to live it. I may have thought I was on the high road by choosing surgery and radiation over suicide. But poisoned by bitterness, I was not living. Austin tried to waste his precious future life by letting the present control him. I was wasting my precious present life by letting the past control me. My past and his present are and were traumatic, sorrowful, and anxiety-laden. But no matter how cankerous, they cannot tarnish our spotless tomorrows.

Trouble and Trial bind us with their gnarled, ugly claws. Trauma’s grip ever-tightens as we struggle against it or try to change it. We toss and turn, we sob and wail, we shout that, “It is not fair!” And, truly, it is not fair. But the miracle is this—bound though we may feel by our sorrows, when we let go, our sorrows let go.

“I removed his shoulder from the burden…Thou calledst in trouble, and I delivered thee…”³

When desperation and irrationality threaten our very mortality, I witness that the very simple solution may be to just bury what we’re fighting. If we cannot change it and we cannot live with it, then it is not time to stop living; it is time to live without it.

“And thus we see that, when these Lamanites were brought to believe and to know the truth…that they buried their weapons of peace, or they buried the weapons of war, for peace.”⁴

Suppressing trauma has its own dangers, but once you have re-hashed it, worked through it, and derived any potential meaning from it, the time for burial arrives. As dirt separates you from unmanageable trouble, life becomes manageable once more. Not all things are meant to be nursed and coped with; some things are destined for discarding, if we value peace.

Austin and I learned this, in our own ways. Our new lives are interconnected, though Austin may not realize it. The night that he got a chance to confront the choking hand of Trauma, was the very night that I recognized Trauma’s tight grip on me. Seeing the tender fragility of Austin’s mortality, and blessing God for preserving His suffering child that night, is exactly what helped me recognize the tender fragility of my own mortality; especially fragile with the heartless blows of bitterness I was pounding into it with every waking thought. And so we began again. Observing the present for the gift that it is, and honoring the future for its glorious promises.

“Why should this anxious load press down your weary mind?

“…I’ll drop my burden at His feet and bear a song away.”⁵

_______

1. Improve the Shining Moments, LDS Hymnal, 226.

2.  http://www.cnn.com/2014/10/07/opinion/maynard-assisted-suicide-cancer-dignity/

3. Psalms 81:6-7

4. Alma 24:19

5. How Gentle God’s Commands, LDS Hymnal, 125.

*This is a true story, but the subject’s name has been changed.

Eyeballs, Brain Stems, and Stuff

I'm gonna make one of these:

So as you recently saw with the photo below —honestly one of my favorite from this entire year:

I am currently going down a Neuroscience rabbit hole at Yale Hospital, after I made the decision (mistake?) to disclose that, once or twice a week, I see these flashing, colorful spots in my upper right field of vision for a few minutes before they disappear.  Interestingly, this is the exact area where I was mostly blind after my surgery for a couple weeks.

Remember the nifty chart my mom made after my surgery?  We used it to keep track of how well I could see out of each eye for quite a while during my brain surgery recovery, and my right eye seriously lagged.

So to entertain my puzzling neuro-mess, I recently added 2 new doctors to my mix, one is Mindy Lahiri from The Mindy Project (seriously—confident, smart, curvy female Indian doctor with great hair), and the other knows my surgeon, Dr. Brem, and did his residency at UPenn, so you KNOW that I am big fans of these people.

So Dr. Lahiri is my new Neurologist and she thinks I’m having migraines with aura.  I think it is plausible, although it is like 99% aura and only 1% headache, so that’s odd.  But when you do a Google Images search of “migraine with aura” there are some striking similarities to what I'm experiencing.

Still, to get some more data, Dr. Lahiri sent me to Dr. Brem Jr. who is a Neuro-Ophthalmologist.  This is a field of medicine I did not know existed.  But pretty much add “Neuro” to the front of every medical field, and you’ve just listed all of my doctors.  Neuro-oncologist, Neuro-surgeon, Neurologist, Neuro-Ophthalmologist, Neuro-Dentist (not that one, but maybe??  We’ll find out…) 

Anyway, the Neuro-Ophthalmologist  had me do all of these (honestly, kind of fun) tests and concluded a few things: 
     1) I have 20-15 vision, LIKE A BOSS!  Honestly, I could have read even smaller print, but that was the smallest they had, so there!  And, 
     2) Regardless of my super vision powers, I have a VERY pronounced blind spot in my upper right field of vision.

My field of vision test results looked something like this:

Oh, and here’s some gross photos of my eyes:

Appreciate those.  The flash was so ridiculously bright that I was totally crying.  Plus I took the pics while I was still way dilated and couldn't even see what I was pointing my phone at.  I guess that was the 20-15 super vision powers helping out!

The Neuro-Ophthalmologist’s third conclusion, like my Neuro-Oncologist, was that,
     3) I may be having partial seizures, ie, unusual activity in the brain stem that wreaks (a little) havoc.  He even went so far as to suggest a diagnosis—Charles Bonnet Syndrome (pronounced “Boe-NAY”).    

Here are some definitions of CBS from peer-reviewed journal articles:

...

Charles Bonnet syndrome is a condition that causes individuals with vision loss to see objects, patterns or images that do not exists (visual hallucinations). These individuals are aware that these hallucinations are only illusions, not reality.  This disorder is likely caused by the brain continuing to interpret images even in their absence.  Hallucinations are more likely to occur when the individual is awake, alone, in dim light, physically inactive, or lacking distractions.  The brain usually adjusts after about a year and hallucinations begin to go away.

Source: Genetic and Rare Diseases Information Center (GARD), supported by ORDR-NCATS and NHGRI.

...

Optometry. 2009 Jul;80(7):360-6. doi: 10.1016/j.optm.2008.10.017.

Charles Bonnet syndrome: case presentation and literature review.

Kester EM¹.

Author information

Abstract

BACKGROUND:

Charles Bonnet syndrome (CBS) is an under-recognized and under-reported disorder that involves visual hallucinations in visually impaired individuals. These patients have intact cognition, do not have hallucinations in any other sensory modalities, and retain insight into the unreal nature of their hallucinations.

...

Consult Pharm. 2013 Mar;28(3):184-8. doi: 10.4140/TCP.n.2013.184.

Charles bonnet syndrome: treating nonpsychiatric hallucinations.

Nguyen ND¹, Osterweil D, Hoffman J.

Author information

Abstract

Charles Bonnet syndrome (CBS) is characterized by recurrent or persistent complex visual hallucinations that occur in visually impaired individuals with intact cognition and no evidence of psychiatric illness. Patients usually retain insight into the unreal nature of their hallucinations.

...

So at least my doctors are convinced I’m not actively psychotic—that is some consolation. 

And that’s the current story.  But if I have learned anything, it is that “diagnosis” is a treacherously fluid term, so that’s just what I’m rolling with for now.  And (Mike, Colin, Evan) don’t even think about standing in my blind spot and making faces at me; not cool.

"Guests, like Fish...

...Begin to smell after three days.”

-Benjamin Franklin

(In our case, they literally smelled...)

(I’m not even a fan of Franklin, but he was spot on here!)

(Hubs might get mad at me for posting this.  In his defense, he had no part in it)

We had an odd experience recently.  I tell this tale at the risk of offending the subjects of my story.  But we were offended first(!), plus someone has to tell them.  I will gladly take their anger if it means they hear it straight from a real adult for once in their lives.

A guy who was a missionary in this area some time ago came on a trip back to the East Coast with his like 20-year-old wife.  Because Hubs has a very difficult time with the word “No,” they both ended up staying at our place for several days.  Yes, our teeny-tiny apartment with one teeny-tiny bathroom.  SEVERAL DAYS.  With virtual strangers.

The thing is, they were really very nice people.  I have no complaints about their character or personalities.  They seem like they love each other, which is great.  And there was really only one point of contention, one battleground.  But the battle raged; our bathroom was commondeered.

Their stay at our apartment was characterized by us being locked out of our one and only bathroom for hours on end while she applied a week’s worth of makeup every morning, and did ??? at night.  This peaked when Hubs was accosted with knocks and demands at the door, the second that he turned the water off after his (very short) shower one night.  I was called out of my shower early once, too.  The shower I had waited HOURS for in gross, sweaty clothes.

There is a lot that could be said, but I will fast-forward to the grand finale.  Suffice it to say that we noticed some weird stuff, like my makeup brushes being used (eww!); a piece of trash on the floor that came from an item we had in a box WAY in the back of our stuffed cupboard under the sink (she had obviously rifled around, opened the box, used the item, and left the trash from it for us to clean up for her); and the lid off of my face cream, revealing deep finger marks and so much gone that it had obviously been used for body lotion –yes, you read that right, my FACE cream used as a stranger’s BODY LOTION! 

So that was all annoying, but we just tried to carry on.  When we thought they had finally left, we awoke to find that a present had been left for us.  Perhaps the present was meant to mark the territory that they had claimed for the past several days.  That present was none other than a toilet bowl full of diarrhea and used toiled paper!  I screamed.  Hubs ran from our room and was speechless.

We bleached the entire apartment.  It has been days, and yet the scent of our over-abundance of Lysol still remains.

Never. Again.

Reflecting on their stay led us to reflect more broadly on what I consider to be Utah Culture, a topic of great angst in our home.

I could go on and on, offending practically everyone I know, and maybe being a little hypocritical.  In the interest of brevity, I will list a mere three (out of infinity) reasons why this incident can largely be blamed on asinine Utah/Mormon cultural flaws.

We are the way we are for decently good reasons, this I readily admit.  Congealed by hardship, our sense of community, even with those we don’t actually know, is unbreakable.  Mormons implicitly trust each other, by virtue of our common faith, leading them to do things that would otherwise make zero sense.  This leads me to Reason 1:

1.  The “Crashing” Phenomenon

Crashing = coming in late at night to sleep on your buddy’s futon because you’ve had a few too many drinks, and then leaving without a trace first thing in the morning.  This is in the realm of college students balancing the interests of 1) not getting a DUI, and 2) making it to their 9am class.  And yet, for Mormons, this remains a legitimate way of taking an adult vacation.  A relic of the Law of Consecration?  A result of our penny-pinching, tithing-paying demographic?  Whatever it is, if you are not staying at a blood relative’s home, it is absurd.  And immature.  And way over-stepping the boundaries of casual friendship, in the selfish interest of saving a few bucks.  People: it is called a hotel, or a hostel, or Airbnb.  Stop taking advantage of your old roommate’s cousin’s sister-in-law.  Grow up.

2.  Over-Emphasis on Appearance

(Although, ironically, a gross under-emphasis on good fashion.) This is especially true for women. I will keep this as simple as I can, since this is a territory I could go all-out ranty about for at least 30 pages.  To be direct, the principle of marriage is essential to our faith.  But there are many fewer men than women in the Church.  Many women feel an unspoken need to compete for the few Mormon men in their line of sight. 

On the other hand, marriage is also essential for men, and they are on the hunt as soon as they get home from their missions at about 21.  So women 21 and under are theirs for the choosing.  Meaning women try to look as young as possible to stay competitive.  That means extra-skinny non-curvy frames, lest you look like you are too old.  This means perfectly powdered faces to cover any imperfections and fine lines, lest you look like you are too old.  This means acting stupid (or, tragically, just being stupid) and naïve, lest you look like you are too old. (Don’t believe me?  How about this recent article, entitled “Vain Utah: Cosmetic Surgery more popular than ever in the Beehive State”! http://fox13now.com/2016/02/24/vain-utah-cosmetic-surgery-more-popular-than-ever-in-the-beehive-state/ ) (I partly blame it on that horribly misconstrued “be ye therefore perfect” scripture. )

Because heaven forbid, since you all look identical (loosely curled bleached hair, over-darkened brows, chevron-patterned maxi skirt, big chunky necklace, grossly overdone eye lashes) (its creepy…), I suppose there is a real threat that your one visible blemish could separate you from all of the other eligible bachelorette clones, causing you to miss out on exaltation.  In that case, MORE BRONZER!

3.   Marrying Young

So what do we get?  A Church full of childish, under-educated, goal-less, boney, overly made-up twenty year-olds who are --shockingly-- married.  These immature teen brides then become the inattentive parents that invite this little scene from a cook out we attended this weekend:

Young Mom is piggy-backing on Young Dad, while Young Dad cracks up and tries to shoot a basket with the extra load on his back.  All the other young moms and dads think this is hilarious and join in.  (Hubs and I, meanwhile, look at each other in horror with the unspoken questions, “Is this really happening?  Are we honestly among a group of adults??”  Call us curmudgeons; we strongly prefer that to immature weirdos.)   

Moments later, Young Mom yells out, “Where is my baby?!”  And this is an actual baby.  As in, he can’t even walk yet, and yet he’s been left to his own devices in some random backyard.  Young Mom and Young Dad were too absorbed in trying to reclaim their own lost childhoods to take care of the baby (one among several) that is in their charge.  Don’t worry, the baby is found about 30 yards away, behind some wood beams.  Once they see the baby, they don’t even get him.  They just look over and then keep playing.

????????????????????

And thus we see that all of these cultural flaws contributed to our having a clueless, extra young, married couple crashing at our house and spending hours upon hours doing makeup and making messes in our apartment.  This doesn’t quite explain the poop situation, but copious amounts of bleach fixed that well enough.

Army of Helaman

Today I went to a couple different Latter-day Saint congregations to meet up with some of my Online Seminary students in-person before we begin the new school year.  As I will explain, it was my particular opportunity to attend the Bridgeport Family Ward.  To give some context to where we are, Connecticut is a unique state of extremes--part New York City suburb, part redneck boonies, part racially-divided slums.  Areas of extreme wealth (like a home I went to a party at yesterday that is currently on the market for 15 MILLION dollars!), and areas of extreme poverty and violence-- Connecticut has 4 of the top 100 most dangerous cities in the entire country, all within our small borders, despite these high-crime cities being surrounded by astounding wealth.  One of these “dangerous” cities is Bridgeport, the most populous city in the state, situated in the wealthiest county in the state, yet the most violent place in the state, and among the most violent places in the entire country. (Note: just THIS MORNING Bridgeport made national news when 13 people were shot at a house party)

 

Despite its reputation, Bridgeport CT has a thriving, diverse network of active members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, many of whom I am blessed to call my friends.  Today I attended one congregation that is partially comprised of members from this city and it was a beautiful experience.   First, a smiling, humble man from China stood as his upcoming baptism was announced. Second, a beaming family, newly baptized, was blessed before the congregation to receive the Holy Ghost.  The mother, with a sweet African accent, followed by her two daughters, made their way to the front to receive their ordinances and receive the welcome of the Ward.  After the formal Sacrament service, the ward’s young women in attendance, who had recently returned from a reportedly spiritual and fun week at Girls Camp in Vermont, where they got a chance to camp together and see places of significance in Church History, shared their experiences and their testimonies with great power and conviction to the entire congregation.

Then the young women all stood at the front of the chapel and bore an even more powerful testimony through their singing.  They were a beautiful sight!   They were diverse in background- their families come from all over Latin American, all over Africa, some were black American, one is on exchange from Belgium; they were diverse in appearance- all shapes, sizes, hairdos, and fashion styles, including one that I had to compliment afterwards in gorgeous traditional African dress. (Compare that to so many American congregations where all the women look JUST THE SAME- long loosely-curled bleached hair, chevron pattered maxi skirts, big chunky necklaces, every.single.time...!)  And this choir of young women didn’t just look incredible, they sounded simply angelic as they harmonized “We’ll bring the world it's truth.”1

  In my generation, this song of strength and honor was typically reserved for the boys.  At EFY (tacky and syrupy as I hear it is), the kids sing a medley where the boys get to take the lead on this song, as if they are the only ones with the privilege of spreading truth to the world.  But here, in Bridgeport, these young women took that mantle of authority and professed to all that they are as the army of Helaman, that they will be the Lord’s missionaries, that they will bring the world it's truth2.  I was in tears; it was pure prophecy.

In an era when the young women of the church are enlisting as missionaries in greater numbers and at younger ages than ever before3, it was easy to close my eyes and see each of these young women carrying the gospel with great authority near and far, armed with knowledge and faith. 

Not only is the Church becoming more able to support our young sisters to become missionaries around the world, but local sisters across the globe are being enriched in their individual locales and growing up to become strong leaders and teachers in their communities, wherever they are and whomever they are.  What a blessing that this previously untapped force of diverse daughters is finally being recognized as the powerful Army of Helaman is has always been.4

~~~

1 https://www.lds.org/music/library/childrens-songbook/well-bring-the-world-his-truth-army-of-helaman?lang=eng 

2 https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/alma/56?lang=eng 

3 https://www.lds.org/youth/video/welcome-to-conference?lang=eng 

4 https://www.lds.org/media-library/video/general-womens-session-april-2016?lang=eng

As a tangential side note, I am also very sensitive to diverse/female non-church role models for my future daughter, so she will have a host of women to look at and say, “If she can do it, so can I.”  The recent Olympic Games and even the politically powerful women in our midst do exactly that. 

Bring the world it's truth!

Holey Brain, Batman!

I have about a dozen half-written posts of the political variety, sitting on my Desktop, collecting cyber dust.  But it is just too exhausting.  This late in an election year, everyone is tired of everyone, and tired of hearing about everyone's crap.  So maybe tomorrow, but definitely not today...


In the meanwhile, this happened:

Scans look good, says my amazing Neuro-Oncologist!  Which is surprising, considering there is a big hole, but hey... I'm no fancy doctor.


I got an EEG to make sure I'm not having seizures or whatever.  Same old excitement as usual, around here.  I got out my camera and said, "Ah!  You drew on my face!"  X marks the spot :)

Also, I decided my mom needs to make me this felted(?) lapel pin!

Your Doll's House?

The other day I was in New York City talking to a youngish professional.  He was asking if I knew a particular woman whom he thought could have been a mutual acquaintance and, in describing her, mentioned that she “is very into Women’s Lib…”  Women’s Lib?  Seriously?  I thought they only used that term in 1970’s England.  Apparently not.  But it got me thinking about antiquated women’s issues that are STILL women’s issues in the modern world, no matter what you call them.  What I call one of these myriad issues is faking perfection.

One of my favorite modern takes on this long-standing issue is encapsulated by a short film called Nora, based on the 1879 play written by Henrik Ibsen, A Doll's House.  The play has been a favorite of mine since I first read it in college.  The premise, in a nutshell, is that the lead, Nora, is a young mother of three, living in a world concerned with appearances, choked by her shallow life revolving around her husband and her children, whom she plays with like dear, little toys.  Nora comes to the realization that she has never developed an independent self— that she floated from being merely decorative in her father’s home to being merely decorative in her husband’s home, and she is now perpetuating the pattern with her own children.  Determined to take back her life, she abruptly leaves her family to find herself, a person whom she has never even met. (And this in the 1800s!)

Sounds selfish, I suppose, but the idea is that society robbed her of her own life and she was righting that wrong by not only getting her own life back, but also by disrupting the pattern that would have inevitably robbed her daughter of life as well. 

(Watch the modern short film HERE)

I was introduced to this play by a professor of Humanities.  At one point, this professor had also moonlighted as an LDS Bishop.  When counseling young, engaged couples, he would often gift them with a copy of this play.  An odd gift at the time of one’s engagement, but his message was meant to zing straight into their hearts a couple of important questions— 

     Are you really ready to give up your independence?  

    Will you regret this decision in a few years and have your life crumble to bits, taking down others in its fall?  

Sadly, I have known many young women to jump into the arms (and wedding bands) of men without first knowing themselves.  Sometimes I think that many of these young women want an Instagram post of their bedazzled right hand, adorned with 300 likes, far more than they actually want to their intended husbands.  

I am not even 30 years old and have seen more of my peers, even “righteous” people, get divorced than you would believe.  And I think it has a lot to do with this— a young woman asked to become subservient to the wants of others, before knowing what she actually wants, is likely to someday realize that she had been robbed of her own free will.

Building a life that is what we believe others want to see, versus building a life that is what we want it to be, is killing the mental and emotional health of so many women.  In a very metaphoric way, I think that writer Jessi Klein hit the nail on the head when she compared women "enjoying" a bath to women retreating from their unjust lives.  Sounds like a stretch, but read what she had to say in The New Yorker recently:

ILLUSTRATION BY JEAN JULLIEN

To me, there has always been something vaguely miserable about bathing. The soaking, the sitting, the water getting dirty and cold, the inevitable random hair floating up against your skin, the pruning. It makes me feel as if I were stewing up the world’s saddest soup out of myself. It hurts my neck.  …  I get hot and thirsty in the bath, and when I stand up I always feel like I’m going to pass out. Because I feel less clean than when I got in, I have to take a shower afterward. Ultimately, it feels like I’ve gone backward, hygiene-wise.

But these are just my physical issues with bathing. My conceptual problems begin with the same ideology some adman for Calgon decided to trade on forty years ago: the idea that the bath is the last space a woman can escape to, like a gazelle fleeing a lion by running into water up to her neck. Getting in the bath seems a kind of surrender to the idea that we can’t really make it on land, that we’ve lost the fight for a bedroom corner or even just our own chair in the living room. And, once the bath becomes our last resort, a Stockholm syndrome sets in. We cede all other space to the husband or boyfriend or kids and then convince ourselves that the bath is awesome. Yay, I’m submerged in a watery trough! This is incredible! This is my happy place! I definitely wouldn’t prefer to just be lying in my own bed watching “Bachelor in Paradise”! I would much rather have grainy bath crystals imprinting themselves into my butt than be in my own room! What luxury! This is perfect!

…

This is why Virginia Woolf stressed the importance of having a room of one’s own. If you don’t fight for it, don’t insist on it, and don’t sacrifice for it, you might find yourself in that increasingly tepid water, pruning and sweating while you dream of other things.

~ Jessi Klein, The Bath: A Polemic 

Now wasn’t that just a tad more illuminating that scanning your Facebook feed for the fifth time today?  Wasn’t that more thought-provoking than those new dance moves or cute animal interactions that you just watched on YouTube?  Such unworthy media simply wastes time.  And if there is anything that I have learned about mortality, it is that time is of the essence. 

Here are some interesting quotes:

Regarding the internet, “You can get caught up in endless loops of triviality that waste your time and degrade your potential.” 

~Randall L. Ridd, The Choice Generation

 “A prominent thought leader, Arthur C. Brooks, has emphasized this point. He observes that when using social media, we tend to broadcast the smiling details of our lives but not the hard times at school or work. We portray an incomplete life—sometimes in a self-aggrandizing or fake way. We share this life, and then we consume the ‘almost exclusively … fake lives of [our] social media “friends.”’ Brooks asserts, ‘How could it not make you feel worse to spend part of your time pretending to be happier than you are, and the other part of your time seeing how much happier others seem to be than you?’

“Sometimes it feels like we are drowning in frivolous foolishness, nonsensical noise, and continuous contention.”

~Quentin L. Cook, Choose Wisely

Carve out a space for you, your ideas, and your dreams that is larger than a screenshot or selfie, and even larger than a bathtub.  MUCH larger.  Create a life that is real, not just a doll-like semblance of reality.  If we only have one mortality to live, it ought to be more meaningful than a social media-fueled pretense of a happy life.

Be Nora: find yourself.

Comparing Joseph Smith to Hillary and Trump

With voracious interest, I have recently spent a lot of time poring over an old document.  I have been beefing up on my Mormon Studies recently and found a version of the pamphlet distributed by Joseph Smith's campaign, discussing his platform when he ran for President of the United States.

At the time, the Federal Government had failed the Mormons time and again, refusing to lend aid while the Mormons were repeatedly being forced from their homes by armed mobs, and even massacred.  A reach for more government protection seemed only natural.  Plus, Joseph was already General of a small army called the Nauvoo Legion, and a revered leader of Mormons emigrating to Illinois from around the world whom his work inspired.  Oh, and he was a prophet.  So I guess all that should qualify one for office well enough!

Joseph's platform was released in anticipation of the 1844 election.  Of course, this was never meant to be, as Joseph was martyred in June of 1844.  Knowing that this platform was the culmination of his views at the end of his life, to me, gives them extra interest and even extra weight.

I already knew about his stance on abolition-- he even dives into the topic on the very first page of the pamphlet, as follows:

“My cogitations, like Daniel’s, have for a long time troubled me, when I viewed the condition of men throughout the world, and more especially in this boasted realm, where the Declaration of Independence 'holds these truths the be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights’ that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness;' but at the same time some two or three millions of people are held as slaves for life, because the spirit of them is covered with a darker skin than ours; and hundreds of our own kindred for an infraction, or supposed infraction, of some over-wise statue, have to be incarcerated in dungeon glooms, or suffer the more moral penitentiary gravitation of mercy in a nutshell, while the duelist, the debauchee, and the defaulter for millions, and other criminals, take the uppermost rooms at feasts, or, like the bird of passage, find a more congenial clime by flight.”

My Modern Translation of the Above^:

When I reflect on the injustice in the world, and contemplate on how injustice exists even here where the Constitution is supposed to grant us broad rights as people, that we are still utilizing badges of slavery to keep black Americans from prospering, and we are also unjustly using mass incarceration for crimes undeserving of the lengthy prison sentences we willingly dole out and pay for.  Meanwhile, worse criminals than the ones languishing in prisons are free to take advantage of the remaining 99% by glutting upon their usury and getting away with moral atrocities all while living lavish, penthouse lifestyles, taking expensive vacations, and hiding their money in off-shore accounts.

Ridiculously apropos. 

Honestly, you should read the whole thing.  Very interesting.  I found a version here:  https://archive.org/stream/generalsmithsvie00smit#page/n5/mode/2up

(Note that it is not perfect, he talks about the "savage" and "red man" and other modern no-no's that were common to his time, but the fact that he was both a Progressive and a Patriot is obvious.)

But the reason I really wanted to get into this document was to use it as a tool of comparison while pondering the modern arguments put forth by our current Presidential hopefuls. 
 (*Disclaimer: I have been registered as an Independent for several years now and, at this point,  I will be voting for whomever the Democratic nominee will be this go-around, so I acknowledge that I write with that bias. #FeelinThe Bern)

I will leave the analysis up to you, but here are some notable quotes that I found:

RE: Refugees

“Our common country presents to all men the same advantages, the same facilities, the same prospects, the same honors, and the same regards; and without hypocrisy, the Constitution, when it says, “WE, THE PEOPLE of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America,” meant just what it said without reference to color or condition, ad infinitum.”

 He wrote a little more regarding “defence” à JS later quotes George Washington, “To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.”  Military was not an end itself, it was a means for preserving peace.

RE: The Media

“…I am astounded at the silly moves of persons and parties to foment discord in order to ride into power on the current of popular excitement…”

(LOVE that^)

RE: Congress + a few proposals to voters

“Frustrate the designs of wicked men.  Reduce Congress at least two-thirds.  Two Senators from a State and two members to a million of population will do more business than the army that now now occupy the halls of the national Legislature.  Pay them two dollars and their board per diem (except Sundays).  That is more than the farmer gets, and he lives honestly.  Curtail the officers of Government in pay, number, and power; for the Philistine lords have shorn our nation of its goodly locks in the lap of Delilah.

“Petition your State Legislature to pardon every convict in their several penitentiaries, blessing them as they go, and saying to them, in the name of the Lord, Go thy way, and sin no more.

“Advise your legislators, when they make laws for larceny, burglary, or any felony, to make the penalty applicable to work upon roads, public works, or any place where the culprit can be taught more wisdom and more virtue, and become more enlightened.  Rigor and seclusion will never do as much to reform the propensities of men as reason and friendship.  Murder only can claim confinement or death.  Let the penitentiaries be turned into seminaries of learning, where intelligence, like the angels of heaven, would banish such fragments of barbarism.  Imprisonment for debt is a meaner practice than the savage tolerates, with all his ferocity.  ‘Amor vincit omnia.’ (Love conquers all.)

“Petition, also, ye goodly inhabitants of the slave States, your legislators to abolish slavery by the year 1850, or now, and save the abolitionist from reproach and ruin, infamy and shame.

“Pray Congress to pay every man a reasonable price for his slaves out of the surplus revenue arising from the sale of public lands, and from the deduction of pay from the members of Congress.

“Break off the shackles from the poor black man, and hire him to labor like other human beings; for ‘an hour of virtuous liberty on earth is worth a whole eternity of bondage.’ …”

…

“More economy in the National and State governments would make less taxes among the people; more equality through the cities, towns, and country, would make less distinction among the people; and more honesty and familiarity in societies, would make less hypocrisy and flattery in all branches of the community; and open, frank, and candid decorum to all men, in this boasted land of liberty, would beget esteem, confidence, union and love; and the neighbor from any State, or from any country, of whatever color, clime or tongue, could rejoice when he put his foot on the sacred soil of freedom, and exclaim, The very name of ‘American’ is fraught with friendship.  Oh, then, create confidence! Restore freedom! Break down slavery! Banish imprisonment for debt, and be in love, fellowship, and peace, with all the world!  …”

…

In other words, beside world peace :), I believe that JS is advocating the removal of private banks and brokerage firms in favor of National and State banks.  By doing so, the National government can keep the banking revenue instead of loan sharks, greedy banking executives, etc.

RE: Broken Campaign Promises

“We have had Democratic Presidents, Whig Presidents, and pseudo-Democratic-Whig Presidents, and now it is time to have a President of the United States; and let the people of the whole Union, like the inflexible Romans, whenever they find a promise made by the candidate that is not practiced as an officer, hurl the miserable sycophant from his exaltation, as God did Nebuchadnezzar, to crop the grass of the field with a beast’s heart among the cattle.”

And here is how the pamphlet concludes:

“In the United States the people are the Government, and their united voice is the only sovereign that should rule, the only power that should be obeyed, and the only gentlemen that should be honored at home and abroad, on the land and on the see.  Wherefore, were I the President of the United States, by the voice of a virtuous people, I would honor the old paths of the venerated father of freedom; I would walk in te tracks of the illustrious patriots with an eye single to the glory of the people; and when that people petitioned to abolish slavery in the slave States, I would use all honorable means to have their prayers granted, and give liberty to the captive by paying the Southern gentlemen a reasonable equivalent for his property, that the whole nation might be free indeed!

Amen!