Pretty Much

 

This pretty much sums up my life lately.

Maaaaybe even applies to the last 4 months of my life.

Or something.

This post really has no beneficial value other than the fact that getting that idea out into the

cyber world somehow makes me feel a little bit better.

Good thing it is general conference.

Spiritual Endorphins make a world of a difference, you know?

And that's really all I have to say.

On Expectations

I wandered into an old bookshop today.
I had passed this particular shop every day for several months, always in a hurry and moving along to the next thing to check off my endless to-do list. I was charmed by the idea of this place, though, and I consequently dreamed up what it would be like when I was finally able to venture inside. I live for moments like that.
Today proved the perfect opportunity. Walking home in solitude on this grey day, after reading a book of great depth and I was lost in my mind. Moods such as this cause my mind to weave thoughts in ways that would sound strange in casual conversation. It works for me.

I opened the door and stepped inside-- and was immediately disappointed. The thing was in disrepair, books scarcely covered the cheap shelves. Instead of an old secret tucked away in the form of a corner bookstore I found a cheap, empty little room and not even a place to sit down.  I was sorely disappointed.

I left quickly and my mind dissected the situation. How long I had anticipated this small moment--fabricating in my head the way it would be, walking in and discovering a gem. Breathing in the old books lining old shelves and of course taking advantage of the many niches to choose from to soak it all in, one book at a time. I do this all the time, envisioning how I think something is going to pan out.
Granted, there are many moments that live up to your expectations, even exceed them, and these are wonderful. But what I have really found is that I am quite the daydreamer, and I tend to build things up so much that when they finally come, they never quite measure up to the idea I had formulated for them in my mind. Exhibit A:

The truth of it, at least for me, is this: the moments that end up really meaning something in my life are usually the ones that take me totally off guard. I am talking about those moments that hit you on some idle Tuesday, taking you completely aback and casting a brilliant myriad of color into your life--unexpectedly.
And the other truth that I have come to realize is that, as Richard L. Evans puts it, maybe we should stop trying to force a life. Perhaps the one offered to us is just as full of joy, it's pigments just as bright-- just not what we expected.

I am still going to dream, and anticipate things in my life--that's just the way I work. But I think instead of being disappointed in their not measuring up, I will just enjoy those moments for what they are. There are more than enough bookstores left out there for me to explore. The trick is to enjoy those spaces in-between. That is the substance of a life. The tiny little moments throughout a day-- the boring, mundane routine of days-- the brilliant instances of unexpected splendor. Together these weave a life, and whatever that means mine will entail, I choose to open my heart and enjoy it.

In the words of Steven Walker: Expect nothing and strive for everything. You'll never be dissatisfied.

My thoughts from 2013: Mediocrity

I am a mediocre person.  I do not say that in a way to belittle my worth or put out a cry for validation--  no.  

I speak simply- in truth I am not that extraordinary, I feel like a babe among giants as I stumble my way clumsily through this whole nursing school experience-- surrounded by some of the most put together, brilliant, ridiculously intelligent people I have ever met in my life.  They inspire me more than anyone, it is thrilling to be surrounded by such remarkable human beings, constantly. There is nothing else like it. The energy they inspire is indescribable. And they frustrate the heck out of me, too. But that's okay.

Every day I question if I am really cut out for this and every day I receive a push upwards, a small confirming whisper that I can, that I will.  And then they come, tender mercies usually manifest through the people who surround me, the people closest to me in my life (thank goodness for them). And something in me decides to keep going.

A good friend of mine explained to me the other day that the word mediocre actually has roots that translate to "halfway up a mountain."

Well?

I think I'll keep that idea. :) I am halfway up a mountain! I feel battered and beaten up but I am looking up... and even mediocre people can find their way to the top sometime if they keep trudging along, however feebly that may be, with a small smidgeon of hope and a ferocity unparalleled.

So this is what I have chosen. To dedicate the next two years of my life to learning The Healer's Art.   So this whole running on 5 hours of sleep and working long hours and living in the Harold B. Lee library and hardly having time to breathe thing, well, I think I'll keep at it. This is a remarkable time of life and as HARD as it is, I love it. Sure, I'm barely standing, but truth be told:
 I love it.

So let it be known, I am a mediocre person.

And you know?

I'm okay with that. 

on letting go

Maybe he has taught you all he can about yourself. Maybe you should tuck that away. Maybe you should let that knowledge surround you 

and then let go.  

Realize that

it is what it is. 

Realize that

that's okay.

. . .

June 24.

"Montaigne. The language of the street is always strong. What can describe the folly and emptiness of scolding like the word jawing? I feel too the force of the double negative, though clean contrary to our grammar rules. And I confess to some pleasure from the stinging rhetoric of a rattling oath in the mouth of truckmen and teamsters. How laconic and brisk it is.... cut these words and they would bleed; they are vascular and alive; they walk and run. Moreover, they who speak them have this elegancy, that they do not trip in their speech. It is a shower of bullets, whilst Cambridge men and Yale men correct themselves and begin again at every half sentence . . . "

Two thoughts:
1. I wish my journal entries sounded like Emerson's (above).
2. I love Christmas break, and all the time it brings for me to simply read.
Three more days of twenty-twelve, and I think I'll spend them doing just that.