A List of the Recently Learned

1.) While driving during a dark and stormy night, turning up Wagner's Flight of the Valkyries is pretty much the only way to go from here on out.

2.) Filing taxes feels amazing! No longer needing to worry about filing taxes feels even better. Waiting for a sizable refund feels pretty great, too.

3.) My new nickname is "Angle Eyes." Thank you, plasma donor.

4.) Dreaming about oversleeping, while horrible, is a lot better than actually oversleeping.

5.) Homemade french pizza is way better than frozen french pizza. Plus, it makes coworkers jealous. Mmmmm.

6.) Always initial and date food stuffs put into the work refrigerate. If you don't, it will be thrown out.

7.) Murphy was right.

8.) Sometimes having a great day is all about deciding to having a great day.

9.) Happiness is unexpected good news.

10.) Mindfully doing things to make you happy can actually make you happy.

Yep, it's Spring!

General Conference

A friend at work asked me what this conference is that takes over Salt Lake City twice a year. She was surprised that people come to town from out of state and even more amazed that people would come from other countries. She inquired after the reason for such a gathering. Knowing that she is a practicing Catholic I made a loose analogy between the Pope coming to town and listening to the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Would she travel to the next state to go listen to the Pope? This made a little more sense to my friend and she walked away to attend to work matters.

A few minutes later, she came back and asked me what we talk about during the conference. A simple answer came to mind: We talk about ways in which we can be better people. The messages are useful to all with a few talks directed toward LDS listeners, specifically.

I then invited her to listen, telling her the times of the meetings.

Perhaps she did, but probably not. The exchange helped me to focus better on this conference, though. What messages were there that specifically spoke to LDS listeners and what messages catered to a more broad audience?

I found that the majority of the speakers addressed the world, not just the LDS population of the world. They spoke on faith, charity, loving others, and facing adversity with courage. Many other themes were addressed over the two-day conference, of course, but those were the themes that stood out to me. They are the things with the Lord whispered to me as I quietly made time to hear Him.

Over the next few months, I intend to listen and read these talks over again; to comb them for wisdom and bite-sized nuggets of peace. The turmoil in my heart is calmed by the words of real life prophets.

I invite you to come listen to the prophets voices, here.

1812

I finally get to play with the Murray Symphony again! Huzzah!

I was supposed to play in the March concert, but could make it to enough rehearsals to actually learn the music. This was due to my work schedule which changes constantly. I'm pretty sure that I've got it ironed out and I'll be able to get every Wednesday night at 6pm so I can make it to Murray on time for practice.

Yesterday, on my way to practice, I got a little lost and wound up on Van Winkle -- the most confusing street in SLC. Every time I find myself on that street it's an accident and I have to give a little yelp inside because getting lost on Van Winkle is just a matter of fact. It serpentines it's way around most major roads and plops out drives into ritzy neighborhoods they didn't want to be plopped into.

I did find a cool-looking restaurant called "Franks."

I'd eat there. Under the naked light bulbs, trees and stars, I could enjoy just about any type of meal.

I arrived at Cottonwood High School early for rehearsal to accommodate seating assignments and to make sure I still had a seat. The amazing musicians I play with are very kind and welcomed me back once more. I was introduced to my stand partner: a shy young man who looked as eager to play as I felt.

The first thing this young man did was to apologize for not being a very good violinist.

"Oh, that's ok," I replied, "I'm not that great either."

He silently observed the room, so I began asking questions.

"So, did you play in high school?"

"Naw, I haven't made it to high school yet -- I'm in junior high."

". . ."

The kid has a mustache! Plus, he's big -- about 5'10" and sturdy.

My assumptions made me realize something: I always assume that people are about my age. While it's rediculous, if someone looks young, I assume that they are about my age. I don't know how many 18 year old high school students I've met at work because most of them appear to be in their early to mid 20's.

I, on the other hand, appear to be about 18 or 19.

Someone told me that yesterday. She was impressed that I had a college degree and then asked me my age. No one assumes that I'm as old as I am.

I guess that's a good thing.

My parents are both quite youthful in appearance as well.

Meh.

Anyway, my new stand partner is a junior high student who can keep up just fine with advanced amateur musicians. He skips the hard parts, just like I do, but I think he'll be fine over all. This gives me a little more incentive to practice; there is no way that I want to play worse than someone at least ten years my junior. My pride won't allow it. I'm glad to be partnered with him. I enjoy feeling as though I can teach or lead someone.

This season marks the 35th anniversary of the Murray Symphony. We are going to play Espana by Chabrier and  . . .

. . . wait for it . . .

The 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky!!

I'm so excited for this!

We played through a few times without the percussion, but next rehearsal we should have the canons and everything!! I'm so excited!!

Tchaikovsky - Overture 1812 by beautifulcynic

Blog Makeover

So, as you can probably tell, I've been doing a little Spring cleaning around here.

What do you think?

I mean, really, what do you think?

Any suggestions or tips in how to do this whole "cyber doo-dad" deal?

I'm sort of computer illiterate and can't write a simple code. Or figure out how to make things look the way I want, for that matter.

Oh Rats!

So, in the LDS church  the first Sunday of every month is dedicated to bringing oneself back to the Lord via abstaining from food and drink for approximately 24 hours. Fasting like this is used in many religions and cultures to help people focus spiritually.

It really does work, too.

Try it some time if you don't believe me.

The catch is: you have to be trying to focus spiritually or else it doesn't work. You just feel hungry.

In any case, yesterday was our Fast Sunday at church because next week is the General Conference for the church.

On Fast Sundays we clear the schedule and let anyone come up and say how they feel about God, Jesus Christ, the church, or other spiritual things; sharing testimony to the edification of those in the congregation.

In my ward this is one 10 year old boy whose testimony always makes me sit up and pay attention. Mostly because he tries to be so grown up yet somehow manages to show his age. Despite being young, however, he can certainly pack a wallop of profound thought.

Yesterday he hopped up and was the very first person to the stand.

*sigh,* he began, "You know how when you are sitting down there and you need to get up here, you feel like you are glued to the seat and someone has sucked out all of your insides. But then when you get up here you have too many insides."

He went on to relay a story about how his mom's great grandfather was a soldier during WWI.

On a cold, stormy night in the trenches of France, this man lay under a thin, damp blanket certain that he would freeze to death. At some time during the night he managed to fall into a fitful sleep. The next morning he woke up warm for the first time in months. This surprised him and he thought it must mean he had died and gone to heaven! Opening his eyes, he realized that he wasn't dead, but still covered with that damp blanket in the mud of the trenches. Pulling back the blanket he discovered the reason for the unusual warmth: he was covered by rats who had been sharing his blanket and inadvertently their body heat as well.

Wow.

This story, shared by a precocious little boy, has stuck in my head all day.

There are times when I feel at the end of my rope. I cannot go on because there is no place left to go but to fall. At the last moment I am always saved. Whether it be by another person, a thought, or a feeling. The thing is: I can rarely appreciate being saved because it feels like yet another trial.

But sometimes angels come in strange shapes. The trick is learning to see them with spiritual eyes.

I need to work on that.

Iris

Growing up in the Midwest, the coming of Spring was truly something to be celebrated.

Green came back to the frozen earth and exploded life all over the place with an exuberance that made every little girl believe in fairies who wake up flowers and sprites who live inside of trees and come out the moment Winter is gone.

The former inhabitants of our home must have had a great appreciation for growing things. The back yard was full of fruit trees: cherry, apple, pear, apricot. There were also bushes: raspberries, blackberries, gooseberries, blueberries, and some wild mulberries that we grow from some weeds that randomly appeared. We also had roses, hens and chicks, a lovely little garden out front, lilac bushes, a magnolia tree, dogwood tree, and many other trees.

Growing along the east wall of the garage was a straight little row of irises.

Each year I would eagerly wait for the irises. In the early morning before school I would race outside to see what had blossomed. They were purple, gold, burgundy, yellow, blue; a living rainbow that gave off a deliciously sweet smell. I loved their soft, velvety petals set in such a remarkably simple array. I studied the flowers daily, memorizing the every angle, texture, and scent.

In the mornings I would examine each blossom, finding the very best, then break it off and walk the mile or so to school with dew wetting my fingers. Handing the flower to my teacher, I would take a seat and feel as though I had done something spectacular that morning.

One year in school I painted an entire collection of water color irises. Some were purple, others gold, burgundy, or blue. Some had bumble bees flying lazy circles around the flowers. My teacher liked them so much that she kept them and I only got to take one or two home.

The following is a poem I wrote titled "The Iris." It's not so much about the flower as something else that is sweet, soft, and simple; something that requires patience and can be gone as quickly as it appears.

Jan. 8, 2008

The Iris

In the fall I planted you.

It wasn’t so much that I did anything, really.

The hole was already there, left vacant from something that had died.

You simply fell in and the earth closed around you so I let you stay.

All winter I try to forget you.

But, as soon as I succeed in pushing you from my mind and stop staring at the place where you rest – safe and protected from the gales I blow around myself – you disturb the ground and cause me to notice your existence once more.

The only thing I have left is to wait.

I wait patiently for the Spring to show me if you ever intended to live.

I would dearly love to see an iris in full bloom.