Journal Excerpt (8.2.09):
Always haunted am I by the glorious potential of imagination. Imagination which climbs such lofty slopes to where it places its great men. And, with traces of reality it whispers that great men there have always been to do great things; men blessed by talent and conviction to bring about magnificent changes. Their ghosts inspire me, but my own doubts and jealousies wave their fearful hands at empty air repeating the phrases: they are but ghosts, their words were but fantasies, you cannot touch them and they therefore do not exist, replace your vain jealousy with reality, stop grasping at such selfish and nonexistent apparitions, would you carry your dreamy idealisms into a world trying so dearly to teach you its actual occurrences? How long will you consign your spirit to fly before you realize your body has not left the ground?
But, even so, even with these opposing forces--be they fear or reality--there is still the inner flame. A passion deep with that would give this body wings. A force that I can scarce account for, so deeply engraved by a perfect choice of experience. To be honest (admittedly selfish though it may be), I want to be a great man. And not a great man to but a few, for many a great example there are to their blessed and precious friends; a great man and a mover of history. I do not here seek to justify my desire with supposed qualifications of even with a precarious claim to a fictional right; I simply here express the desire, the craving and obsession which so haunts my soul with dream and ambition; with even the hints of potential itself. My greatest fear, I think, is not that it cannot come to be, but that it is not the will of God that so be my mortal sojourn. And alas, herein is manifest my short-sighted greed and fear. And here is where my faith whispers: loosen thy grasp, brother: give yourself to Him without condition or restraint and you will find what your very soul truly seeks; a treasure that even your imagination fails to capture and which cannot be attained by mortal device. Lose yourself, brother; deep down here you have the faith to do it. Do not pine for plans and controls, plan only to let go of everything.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
8.26.09
Journal Excerpt (7.22.09):
Maybe it was just the spirit in which I arrived there (Abbotsford), but I distinctly felt as if in a sort of home. I remember vividly a moment at Abbotsford when, while in the garden, I looked north into the landscape; or, as it seemed, into the whole of Scotland itself. There was a heavy mist in the garden and the mountains surrounding, giving the setting such a majesty and beautiful mystery as I have never seen; as if those same mountains held a subtle secret endowed by the endless magnificence, however tenderly expressed, of only time. A sort of divine secret, not so kept in spite, but with a gentle encouragement and love; kept, not from all, in the promise of potential and peace and the knowledge that again, through the surreal rolling-on of time, that same inspiration will be gloriously shared and unfolded.
There I stood, transfixed in the garden; the house and especially the Scottish flag fixed atop perfectly framed by the mist and mountains behind. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
Abbotsford itself, as a house, was inspiring as well: the greatness of Sir Walter Scott leaving its tendencies and reverence in it. The man himself looked very noble, but I was perhaps more inspired by the effects of his imagination and the perceptions of him. But perhaps not; I also felt a certain kinship towards him and his style of work even despite outward on public musings.
Maybe it was just the spirit in which I arrived there (Abbotsford), but I distinctly felt as if in a sort of home. I remember vividly a moment at Abbotsford when, while in the garden, I looked north into the landscape; or, as it seemed, into the whole of Scotland itself. There was a heavy mist in the garden and the mountains surrounding, giving the setting such a majesty and beautiful mystery as I have never seen; as if those same mountains held a subtle secret endowed by the endless magnificence, however tenderly expressed, of only time. A sort of divine secret, not so kept in spite, but with a gentle encouragement and love; kept, not from all, in the promise of potential and peace and the knowledge that again, through the surreal rolling-on of time, that same inspiration will be gloriously shared and unfolded.
There I stood, transfixed in the garden; the house and especially the Scottish flag fixed atop perfectly framed by the mist and mountains behind. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
Abbotsford itself, as a house, was inspiring as well: the greatness of Sir Walter Scott leaving its tendencies and reverence in it. The man himself looked very noble, but I was perhaps more inspired by the effects of his imagination and the perceptions of him. But perhaps not; I also felt a certain kinship towards him and his style of work even despite outward on public musings.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
8.24.09
Journal Excerpt (7.3.09):
We are in the library of a Sikh Gurdwara which is a beautiful and peaceful place. The spirits of pilgrimage and devotion predominate the building. We arrived this morning and after taking off our shoes and covering our heads, went upstairs to the main room where the sacred text is kept. It was a very large room; the architecture and sacred monuments again whispering of devotion and brotherhood. I was pondering on the devotion of those in the room--their beliefs and feelings. I'm sure there are many different stories and reasons for coming, but I reflected on that wonderful humility and inner awe that pulls men toward religion. In the end, the actions--fanning the book, reading the sacred text, bowing, giving money, and prostrating oneself--are simple and natural, baring their devotion in consistency and loyalty. And that, I think, was both my favorite and hardest part of my visit: craving to learn a new and beautiful path for my own dedication, but only being able to catch a sacred glimpse. It is a path I hope to learn more about in the future as I feel it is so incredibly edifying and fulfilling; another feeling by which our most basic human drives and characteristics can be connected in the spirit of literal brotherhood. A connection which transcends cultural and historical differences.
Now I am sitting in the library with some of my fellow students. We are listening to a local Sikh tell us about the Sikh lifestyle and beliefs. I felt very peaceful, especially when he spoke about trying to become one with God: like a river pouring into the ocean he said. A beauty unbound by the words of men; it is a feeling of our loving Father's hand.
We are in the library of a Sikh Gurdwara which is a beautiful and peaceful place. The spirits of pilgrimage and devotion predominate the building. We arrived this morning and after taking off our shoes and covering our heads, went upstairs to the main room where the sacred text is kept. It was a very large room; the architecture and sacred monuments again whispering of devotion and brotherhood. I was pondering on the devotion of those in the room--their beliefs and feelings. I'm sure there are many different stories and reasons for coming, but I reflected on that wonderful humility and inner awe that pulls men toward religion. In the end, the actions--fanning the book, reading the sacred text, bowing, giving money, and prostrating oneself--are simple and natural, baring their devotion in consistency and loyalty. And that, I think, was both my favorite and hardest part of my visit: craving to learn a new and beautiful path for my own dedication, but only being able to catch a sacred glimpse. It is a path I hope to learn more about in the future as I feel it is so incredibly edifying and fulfilling; another feeling by which our most basic human drives and characteristics can be connected in the spirit of literal brotherhood. A connection which transcends cultural and historical differences.
Now I am sitting in the library with some of my fellow students. We are listening to a local Sikh tell us about the Sikh lifestyle and beliefs. I felt very peaceful, especially when he spoke about trying to become one with God: like a river pouring into the ocean he said. A beauty unbound by the words of men; it is a feeling of our loving Father's hand.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
8.22.09
Journal excerpt (7.1.09)
Stonehenge, mysterious and beautiful, looms here in the English countryside. I feel like time has given these stones more reverence than research or discovery ever could. More a part of nature I feel than of this our human or man-made realm. The birds have the privilege to touch the stones while we cannot; the grass growing and clouds passing in their gentle, peaceful purposes while we perhaps only see and try to hold on to that eternal feeling that nature has seemingly perfected. And, in a sense, I feel like this message is of this massive structure most prevalent: simply by existing and by previously allowing our human hands to arrange its stone faces, it still whispers of the eternity of nature no matter its human or elemental interactions. It is so beautiful; inspiring in the way it casts its shade and pulls a permanence into the green and gray of its countenance. But perhaps the permanence and grace were always there--manifest in the grace of a living earth. Perhaps we have only just managed to glimpse it by harnessing our temporary stay to connect ourselves to a potential we long to share. Hence, we have not constructed, but simply organized an already-present grace and beauty. And beautiful it is.
I like it better as it is; pictures of a completed Stonehenge are somehow less impressive to me. I think its more beautiful now that nature has pulled it back into herself; a completed structure would speak more of a human purpose while an old, incomplete structure reminds the viewer that, as previously mentioned, the human interaction was simply that of organization.
Stonehenge, mysterious and beautiful, looms here in the English countryside. I feel like time has given these stones more reverence than research or discovery ever could. More a part of nature I feel than of this our human or man-made realm. The birds have the privilege to touch the stones while we cannot; the grass growing and clouds passing in their gentle, peaceful purposes while we perhaps only see and try to hold on to that eternal feeling that nature has seemingly perfected. And, in a sense, I feel like this message is of this massive structure most prevalent: simply by existing and by previously allowing our human hands to arrange its stone faces, it still whispers of the eternity of nature no matter its human or elemental interactions. It is so beautiful; inspiring in the way it casts its shade and pulls a permanence into the green and gray of its countenance. But perhaps the permanence and grace were always there--manifest in the grace of a living earth. Perhaps we have only just managed to glimpse it by harnessing our temporary stay to connect ourselves to a potential we long to share. Hence, we have not constructed, but simply organized an already-present grace and beauty. And beautiful it is.
I like it better as it is; pictures of a completed Stonehenge are somehow less impressive to me. I think its more beautiful now that nature has pulled it back into herself; a completed structure would speak more of a human purpose while an old, incomplete structure reminds the viewer that, as previously mentioned, the human interaction was simply that of organization.
Friday, August 21, 2009
8.21.09
Journal Excerpt (6.6.09):
Fast and testimony meeting today. It was a very nice meeting and I felt very touched by the Spirit. I was pondering about friendship and how the Spirit helps us to be equals. Or, perhaps not to be equals so much as to help us feel the equality and brotherhood with which we have already been endowed. It is a beautiful feeling: one of power and potential and also of humility and true happiness.
This thought has been floating in and out of my mind for some time and especially in the last week. I have asked myself, "why do I dislike so much noticing differences and making generalizations about foreign cultures?" I think it is a combination of a couple of things, parts of which are described above.
Firstly, I have yet to find a difference between cultures which stems from anything but societal trends with their roots in the basic human characteristics that we all share. In other words, I believe all human traditions, actions, and interactions, stem from simple human characteristics and emotions; to see differences as isolated events or characteristics and unrelated to oneself is to deny the basic human nature that we collectively share. These characteristics extend beyond the material world of possession and even beyond the surface world of personality. It goes much deeper and this leads back into my original point.
We are all children of the same Father. As such, we are all of equal worth and of equal status. And, even beyond being equal, we are all brothers and sister. That is, we are all connected in a wonderful and infinite relationship.
To me, I think that is what I love most about international travel and living among people of a different culture: learning, making friends, playing football, feeling loved, and loving my brothers and sisters. Surface differences exist, but deep similarities are the seeds of true friendship.
Fast and testimony meeting today. It was a very nice meeting and I felt very touched by the Spirit. I was pondering about friendship and how the Spirit helps us to be equals. Or, perhaps not to be equals so much as to help us feel the equality and brotherhood with which we have already been endowed. It is a beautiful feeling: one of power and potential and also of humility and true happiness.
This thought has been floating in and out of my mind for some time and especially in the last week. I have asked myself, "why do I dislike so much noticing differences and making generalizations about foreign cultures?" I think it is a combination of a couple of things, parts of which are described above.
Firstly, I have yet to find a difference between cultures which stems from anything but societal trends with their roots in the basic human characteristics that we all share. In other words, I believe all human traditions, actions, and interactions, stem from simple human characteristics and emotions; to see differences as isolated events or characteristics and unrelated to oneself is to deny the basic human nature that we collectively share. These characteristics extend beyond the material world of possession and even beyond the surface world of personality. It goes much deeper and this leads back into my original point.
We are all children of the same Father. As such, we are all of equal worth and of equal status. And, even beyond being equal, we are all brothers and sister. That is, we are all connected in a wonderful and infinite relationship.
To me, I think that is what I love most about international travel and living among people of a different culture: learning, making friends, playing football, feeling loved, and loving my brothers and sisters. Surface differences exist, but deep similarities are the seeds of true friendship.
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