6.13.10

What is fear? So many scriptural and secular references have described it, but what is it really? Is it a power unto itself, a temptation, the opposite of the spiritual promptings of the Holy Ghost? No, I think not: fear, perhaps like faith, is an axis of agency. And perhaps, as it is actually said to be the opposite of faith, it is the desire and choice not to act. For it is written that there are both things acting and things being acted upon (see 2 Nephi 2: 14), and so perhaps this distinction is best defined by the words here mentioned: faith being manifest in the positive actions of people desiring to act--and actually, to briefly amend, perhaps it is indeed the most base desire of our heart that best denotes the dichotomy between fear and faith--things acting and things being acted upon. This would place faith as the desire to act, to improve, to define life by what we put into it, by the service we render, by the selfless attitude we perpetuate; to work because we want to and, in so doing, become a creature continuously moving forward, not in hope of a reward, but based on an unconditional motivation that is the understanding, achieving, and becoming of truth.

And this would place fear at the opposite of the spectrum: as the desire not to act, to only receive, to define life by what we get out of it, by the status quo we fight to protect, by the comfort and control we maintain; to work only with the hope of retirement and, by so doing, become a creature obsessed with itself, but simultaneously hating itself for its ability to act and thereby to disrupt its fleeting hold on a stationary existence. In fact, at this point we would rather not exist at all if it meant that we would no more have to burden ourselves with actions and dreaded responsibility. This is the meaning of fear: the soul-defining desire to ease into nonexistence, to decay, to pine away, to eternally be acted upon.

Even righteous actions, if done because of fear, can impede our development. For they will not last long: as fear is a desire, it will eventually push its bearer toward actions that are best suited for the corrupted spread of its disease. Slowly, righteous actions will lose their meanings, they will not make sense, they will start to feel fruitless and unnatural, and they will soon be lost in the dangerously rational structure of a decision-making mechanism ruled by inaction. And this is a desire and mentality of which we are all capable; one that we are constantly tempted to adopt. Even the Lord himself was faced with the human possibility of fear, especially when faced with the choice of an action that would cause Him incredible pain. But, as in everything, He showed us the perfect example of faith: His desire, no matter the terrible anticipation of the unearthly pain with which He was faced, was proved to be of an unshakable faith. Therefore, his choice was the natural exemplification of who He was and is: He chose the ultimate action instead of the ultimate inaction.

So we, I believe, can choose to be--this is the mighty change of heart described so often in scripture--this is the conversion that is so frequently emphasized--this is the essence of repentance and the covenant steps of the Gospel--the literal transformation of desire from fear to faith. And how do we accomplish it? I think we start with the desire to believe, the desire to act, the willingness to internalize the Lord's will (see Alma 32: 27). And, as is taught, this desire will begin to work in us as we nurture it, as we allow it to grow--always through action, through a complete willingness, through a pure desire (see Alma 32: 28-30, 37, 41-42). Fear can be hard to let go of, because it's easier, more controllable, supposedly more predictable; because not acting seems so much safer. But as our most inner desire changes, so our thoughts and actions change--our fears literally melt away as they are replaced with an eternal purpose. A purpose by which we bear a glorious fruit, one that envies not, that seeks not her own, that suffers long, that thinks of no evil, that does not rejoice in iniquity, but in truth--a purpose if in which we are lost, we can be truly found. A purpose that we not only complete, but, as has been shown us so perfectly, that we come to exemplify: one that we wholly become.

6.10.10

The World Cup starts tomorrow.

This is a picture of a sandwich.

6.7.10

Week four in Kampala and I am loving it. Work is picking up and the people we've met are wonderful. There's the great members of the church, the NGO directors we've contacted, our favorite taxi driver, Alfred, and, of course, Dave and Jim, my fellow economists that work in a little grocery store down the street. We're always raving about Lionel Messi and Barcelona and counting down the seconds until the World Cup (there are about 260,000 left, by the way). We even let my dear friend and co-worker, Lauren Soelberg, enter our realm today, even though she's a Political Science major (I know, I think I'm going soft). Anyway, they are great guys and I love hanging out with them.

So, we take a lot of public transit in Kampala, mostly the mini-buses which are called Matatus (see below) and, as I was riding in one the other day, I thought to myself..."I wonder what the chances are of me riding in this same Matatu again before I leave Kampala." Well, it turns out that my chances are actually pretty good. But first I had to make a couple of assumptions (and buy myself a Coke).

Now, journey with me my friends: let's assume that there are about 500 Matatus operating in Kampala on a given day. Let's also assume that we take about 9 rides a week (which is pretty conservative) and that, in the next two months, no new Matatus enter or leave the assumed set. Now, using the following equation (derived from the birthday paradox), I can figure out my probabilities:

500!/ [500^n * (500 - n)!]

And here they are:
- After only one week, the probability of me riding in the same Matatu is only about 7% (0.0699).
- After two weeks: 27% (0.2663).
- After one month: 72% (0.725).
- After two months: 99.5% (0.9954).

Which is pretty cool. However, given the nature of the equation, I couldn't just stop there (I mean, who would?). Next I wanted to figure out how many Matatu rides I would have to take before the driver and I shared the same birthday.
So, assuming that it's the same set of guys that drive the Matatus everyday (and also maintaining our original identifying assumptions), these are the probabilities given the number of rides:
- For my first Matatu ride, the probability is only about 0.3% (0.00274).
- After the ninth ride (one week): 9% (0.0946).
- After the eighteenth ride (two weeks): 35% (0.3469).
- After the thirty-sixth ride (one month): 83% (0.8322).
- After the fifty-fourth ride (six weeks): 98% (0.9839).
- And, after the seventy-second ride (two months): 99.9% (0.9995).

Which is pretty sweet. Therefore, during my stay in Kampala, I am extremely likely to take the same Matatu twice and also to have the same birthday as one of my Matatu drivers. I was thinking that it might be fun to ask each of the drivers their birthdays over the next couple of weeks, but then I thought that might be going a little too far...*sigh*

Bon voyage!

5.31.10

This is a picture of a sandwich.

5.30.10

Journal excerpt (5.30.10):

Ten days in Uganda and so much has already transpired. I'm sitting in church now, listening to a wonderful talk on the subject of sacrifice. To me, the meaning of this topic has taken on such an important and personal nature, especially as great friends and [even] professors have helped me to understand its deeper denotations. To me, now, sacrifice is a method of edification through the responsible fulfillment of our duty to make things holy, especially ourselves. To sacrifice our will connotes both a "giving up" of prideful tendencies and also, perhaps more importantly, the acceptation of a holier attitude; the realization of a divine nature by literally becoming more like our Savior. The principle then becomes a beautiful, edifying part of our repentance process.

Work goes well in Kampala: we've learned so much already about NGO work and the difference incentives in play within the sector. My greatest hope is that this research can help development to become more real and sustainable.

What does it mean to hope for truths not seen? I think that, perhaps, hope is not only belief, but is a divinely encouraged and divinely granted idea. That is, it is manifest in the steps of a child influenced by the truth granted in revelation and testimony. The child may guess along the way, but guesswork is not faith: faith is the complete opening of the heart to the point that it becomes our vision and our steps then become the fulfillment of divine will. And not just His will for us, but the alignment of our wills for the maximization of exaltation.

And, I think, one of Satan's greatest traps is to encourage us to second guess our steps and to doubt our journey, even to the point of stopping our feet and waiting for knowledge to walk; waiting for the result before we take action; waiting for the Lord to motivate us to walk before we do. He (Satan) helps us to fill our hearts with fear, doubt, and pride, killing our faith because the eye of our heart has been closed. From there, every step hurts because it feels so unnatural and the lack of knowledge of what lies below our feet creates an unbearable fear that makes our heart perpetuate its addiction to inaction. We no longer want to walk or stand or anything, even exist. We only want to sleep eternally so that, at least, we may find some comfort and a taste of happiness in the whims of dream. And, soon enough, our future and past become the dreams that we crave from our sleep and we desire only to suddenly wake up in either one; we hate the present as it is only a continuous reminder that we are not happy and we learn to live by pining for the hope of a detailed, and even dangerously, yet only supposedly justified, dream.

I have been there, and nothing I have ever experienced has compared to that terrible feeling of despair; it was, to me, the fire and brimstone of hell itself and I shudder to think that any individual could choose to be consigned eternally to such a state.

But as terrible as was and can be the feeling of this motivation-less decay, its opposite bares a beauty of infinitely more depth. And it starts with the opening of our eyes - the opening of our heart (see Helaman 3:35). And then we must walk and keep walking, baring all the time within our hearts the truths divine; truths not seen, but felt. And, therefore, a trek not known, but hoped for.

3.14.10

This is a picture of a sandwich.

2.27.10

The Lord truly does bless us with what we truly desire. It is such a beautiful thing and one that merits an eternal gratitude. And, as I so witness these blessings and experiences, the confusion in my life begins to melt away; the illusions of control seem so out of place and I begin to realize just how exactly the Lord knows me. It also carries a certain reprimand for my impatience and shows me, yet again, that willingness and the shedding of undue expectations are always more edifying than what we immediately want.

Even more fascinating is the conflict within myself as I try to let go. [T]here are incredible emotions at work: fear, pride, joy, enjoyment, etc. A part of me simply wants to obtain all the affection (validation) that it can from [the mask of edifying relationships]. This is selfishness at work; the desire for control over a possible source of validation. To which counters another part of me which urges me to let go and find happiness in the building of mutual respect and [true friendships]. However, this is countered by fear; building takes time, time over which I do not have complete control. What if I lose this new source of validation? No, this part says, I must get all I can and all I want as quickly as I can because, if I don't, I may lose the opportunity.

But this is countered again (thankfully); another part of me begins to see the subtle dichotomies in my desires. It begins to recognize that my fear to lose is not really based on a desire for true happiness, but points back to the want of affection and validation. It begins to see that true happiness, like all revelations of truth, is something that is given precept upon precept in order to build stronger the divinity of the receiver.

In this case, the answer is to let go. The Lord has blessed me with the opportunity to have something I truly want - an edifying friendship - and I would only taint this experience by approaching it selfishly and immaturely. I have to be willing to lose; willing to give up what I want in the short-run. By not being willing to do so, I am only holding on to a piece of my fear, a fear which will never lead to the kind of happiness it thinks it wants.