Friends and Dark Times

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Two recent events helped me see a problem in myself, which is possibly a mistake you make too. I was invited this weekend to an activity that conflicted with a regularly scheduled event with a close friend. I was tempted to accept because it was someone new and fresh and "exciting". Another person I know who hasn't spoken with me for a while told me this week that she cut me off because she didn't want to get me involved. At first I was critical, then I realized that I sometimes do the same thing. When I experience tough times, I sometimes cut off the people who are the best for me, the closest to me, and the most likely to be of help to me.

We like to maintain a good face to those who love us and are dear to us. We are friends with them because they like our company and because we like theirs. We sometimes forget that true friends know the truth about us and like us anyway. I understand that we get desperate because of a deficit of friends that we like to ingratiate ourselves to others in order to win their favor. However, each time I turned down a girl I liked to hang out with my sister, it proved to be the right choice, and each time I put my dog over a girl I liked, that did too. Most people turn out to be French Friends- they are there when they need you.

I choose instead to nurture relationships I already have. Sometimes I am tempted to cut people out of my life or leave them out of tough times because I don't want to burden them. However, sometimes they are the best placed to help you. I suppose I learned this from being a missionary when my mission president counseled me not to tell my parents about my companion who apostatized and the man who assaulted me in the U-bahn because there wasn't anything they could do to help. other times, they can. I called my dad this week about a job for which I applied when it became apparent that I might not be able to get a raise. I needed his counsel and perspective. It was the right call.

I think sometimes we do this thinking we can fix it ourselves without anyone knowing we had a problem. Well, I understand that notion, but if it wasn't something we built ourselves, I don't think we can really fix it alone. Most of the people I know decided to cut me out of their lives. With all due humility, I'm probably one of the best people they know, and so it seems paradoxical to cut out someone who is supportive, encouraging, and potentially useful to rely on yourself. Maybe they do it so I won't think poorly of them. If so, they don't know me very well. Then again, I do it too, so maybe I don't know the people who love me well enough either.

During dark times, true friends will stand by you. In each rough chapter of my life, I found that my own blood was reliable while the promises and representations of other people rang hollow. It takes me at least a year usually to trust someone as a friend, and very few people have stayed the course long enough to qualify. They are people on whom I have found I can rely ultimately to at least remain my friends despite the vicissitudes of fate. Maybe they can't help me during besides providing a listening ear, but they are there to help me rebuild when the dust settles.

Those of you who have true friends should hold them close in dark times. If someone really loves you and cares about you, they will stand by you as a friend. That was the only redeeming message in the play "Wicked" I saw last night with my mother (more commentary on that to follow in another post) that Glinda remained a friend to the "wicked witch" even after everything else that transpired between them. Don't push away people who really love you. Hold close to those who stand by you and are there for you. For all this, their hands are outstretched still.

Aurelian Prospectus

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Shortly after lunch yesterday while kayaking on the Colorado river, we returned to the beach to get back underway and ran into a group of people just arriving at our location. Carefully, I helped the two people with us launch safely as it was their first time in a kayak. As luck would have it, I managed to capsize my kayak for the very first time while these people watched us get underway. Unfortunately this was done in full view of the group on shore who considered it sufficiently comical to laugh at my misfortune. I hope they had a good time, because we ran into some heavy headwinds that wore me out the rest of the day, and it was all I could do to get myself home at the end of the day.

The world is full of people who seem to reap far differently from what they sow. We laugh at the misfortune of others, celebrate the struggles of our enemies, and draw attention to the mote in the eyes of others to distract attention from the beam in our own. We see wicked men prosper and good men vanquished, and so many of our brothers and sisters consequently join the throng at Babel in their riotous living so that we can have the certainty of our cake now. God's promises seem so far away, and His blessings don't come as quickly as we like if ever, and so it seems tempting to eat of the forbidden fruit and trust that we shall become as the gods anyway.

I know that there are many people who struggle to do what is right even without the promised harvest. We joke in my family about the family curse, because I have at least a dozen cousins and a sister who are unmarried, some of whom are accomplished and successful professionals. My dad's youngest sister didn't marry until she was 33 despite having her own house and multiple Master's Degrees. I know other good people who are struggling, and I know some good people who gave up and joined in with the throng of worldliness to partake of the perceived advantages of going with the flow. Yesterday on the river, my companions spoke of their indiscretions and youthful pursuits, and every single one of them got married, had children, and lives comfortably with a stable and successful vocation. It seems like he who has the gold really does make the rules.

The rest of us realize that we're playing according to rules for another world. The world in which we live really does reward men who give in to their base natures, encouraging us to eat, drink and be merry without apparent consequences. People are rewarded based on associations rather than accomplishments, on leverage rather than on literacy, on perniciousness rather than performance. What they may not realize is that this game promises them the world in exchange for their soul and then gives them nothing in return. Eventually, like Barbossa and his crew, they find that all the gold in the world and all the pleasurable company and all the finest of victuals cannot satisfy them and slake their lusts. They are attracted to piracy for its spoils without realizing that they will also be its victims. After all, the pirate's code declares: take all you can and give nothing back. It never promises to protect those who ply the practice!

Contrarily, living a good life has the best prospect. Although not a Christian, Roman Emporer Marcus Aurelius encouraged all men to live a good life. He pointed out that it is a win-win situation. If the gods reward lasciviousness, you do not want to serve them or be rewarded by them. If there are no gods, then you leave a legacy of goodness as an example for your progeny. If there is a righteous God, you will end up in His favor. People who follow the world's rules MUST be correct. If they are not correct, they have their reward. Christianity offers us the best hope. We can have better, be better, and live better. There is hope for a better world, for a better life than the one we currently live. It's also pretty simple. Treat everyone the way you would want them to treat your brothers and sisters.

My companions on the river seemed envious of the good relationships I have with my siblings. In many ways, my parents did a good job showing us how to relate with everyone on earth and taught us that we are all part of the Family of Man. Some of my siblings are also struggling, as are many of my cousins. We continue to abide by the rules of another world. We realize that we may be average when we get there, but we're living for something better than a marshmallow in the moment.

We do not decide how the rules are applied or when. We don't get to pick who wins, even if that means nobody does. We need to remember that sometimes the winner is only decided at the end, when we count up all the totals and compare to the standard. What happens during a game of Monopoly is irrelevant. Money exchanges hands, people end up in jail, and the face of the landscape changes. The winner is decided at the end. It isn't done in the moment just because you accomplished something. We made it to the dock on time. We made it safely. I'm not saying that the other people on the river won't, but what they do along the way determines when they arrive and in what manner they arrive. You can play by the rules of the world and party along the way and live it up, or you can play according to God's rules and really live and live forever. The best thing about His plan is that even if you, like I did, swamp your boat along the way, even when you make mistakes, your mistakes do not have to make you. You can get back in and keep going because of Christ's mercy and sacrifice. It really is the best prospectus.

In the Hand of God

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Last night, since I get home at a decent hour Wednesdays, I checked off a list of things I procrastinated and then turned to distractions besides TV to end my evening. I found my way to my old missionary "yearbook" and went through some of the things other missionaries said to me then. Among them was a note from Christian H. He and I spent a few days together tracting in Flachgau, Salzbergerland, Austria in October 1999, and when he arrived in his mission, he wrote me this letter to tell me what an influence I served in his decision to go and serve. As part of this letter and since he was an artist, he referenced a scripture and drew me in the palm of "God's" hand: "Know ye not that ye are in the hand of God?" I was in the hand of God again tonight as I have been several other times in my life, and I wonder sometimes why He chooses to talk to me, to talk through me, to send me, and to protect me. I am not sure that I would. I will be humble, for I know my weakness. For some reason, He keeps preserving my life.

I marvel at this Saturn with which He blessed me. Every other time I buy gas, I have to check the oil and make sure that I haven't burnt too much already. Sometimes when I change my oil, I barely get any oil out of it at all. Despite the age of the engine, I still get about 38mpg. I still have melted rubber on the hood and fenders from two summers ago when a semi truck threw a tire and narrowly missed me. The seat sags, the upholstery is stained, and now I need a new headlight, but it still gets me from A to B for a song, and I have spent almost my entire adult life in this car. In fact, there is only one person I have ever taken on a date since I returned from my mission who has never been in my Saturn.

On the way home, I was following a pickup truck who ran over some broken wood in the road. Given the light conditions and the speed and distance factors, I was unable to avoid the wood. Rather than come through my open window or through the windshield and impale me, and rather than ding up the hood or tear a fender, I pulled into the parking lot at Walmart near my house and found the spear of wood stuck in my driver's side headlight. If it had gone through in similar fashion about 0.3 meters higher in elevation, it would have probably speared me through the chest.

I feel surprised, humble, and grateful to survive these strange and unexpected events. I don't really know what I'm doing on this planet, and I'm not sure I'm the one I would protect. Perhaps it's because I do thank Him for saving me, for giving me this car, and for the things that are well in my life. Perhaps it's just because I talk to Him all the time, and He likes the conversation. Perhaps it's because you need to know someone who sees miracles and the hand of God in his life. Perhaps He needs me for something after all. As upsetting as it is to have to find a new headlight for a 20 year old car for something completely beyond my control, that's all that happened. I am perfectly safe. The car still drives. There was nothing maniacal about the driver whose car catapulted the wood in my direction. Unfortunate things happen all the time, and even when nobody is at fault per se it is always reason to rejoice when it's an easy fix and a matter of a few dollars and minutes to rectify the unforseen.

Since that time in Austria, I know God has watched over me. The number of things I escaped in that time and in the intervening years tell me that He cares about me for some reason. It also tells me that He's very real and that miracles are very common. When something happens, it's because He's allowed it to affect you, and I can only assume that it has some ultimately eternal cosmic purpose, because if life were really random and cruel and calculated, I would have died a dozen times or more already. Instead, I'm in the best shape and conditioning of my life, in spite of the predilections of others that I would never be good enough or handsome enough to be worthy of them. I'm really more interested in being worthy of God, and as poorly as I feel I fit that description, apparently I fit it enough to warrant His watchful hand of protection as I go about trying to do good in all I say and do.

I know that things could have gone differently. If I were sick or languishing in a job I hate, I would probably talk about those things incessantly and bring them constantly before His throne in search of correction and direction. As it is, I spend most of my time thanking Him for the car, for my house, for the fact that things are in order in my absence, and for money sufficient to pay my bills. I even have my schedule for spring classes, and I'm grateful for that, because I have only one night class and more time to take care of things during the week. With things as they are, God takes care of most things. I was born in a goodly land during a time of prosperity unseen in most ages of man to good parents and educational and vocational opportunities. Thanks to God's hand, that will continue at least one more day, with no dimunition of my status, and I am grateful.

My mother taught me to follow God so that I would feel safe in any circumstance in which I found myself. Sometimes I know it frustrates her when I tilt at windmills and do things she considers foolhardy. I'm a crusader; that's what we do. I was raised on stories about great men and women, people of Faith and fortitude to stuck to principles and bound God to bless them with chains of righteousness. When I may misapprehend God's quiet whisperings or defy in rare cases his directives, He spares me anyway, and I thank Him for that tender mercy that has made me mighty unto the power of deliverance. I read about Noah and Elijah and Gideon; I read about Scaramouche and the Count of Monte Cristo and Robin Hood; I saw with my own eyes the Green at Lexington, the ridge at Gettysburg and sat in a chair in Independence Hall. I walked where great men walked and learned how great men lived and applied the principles by which they lived their lives, to first turn to Nature's God and put Him first. Like Elder Maxwell taught us in Austria, I try to bind the Lord to bless me with chains of righteousness so that if the blessings do not come it's only because there's no room to receive them because I am already blessed too much. I know He holds me in His hand. For some reason I'm alive. Hopefully soon He'll show me what His will is concerning me so that I can do it wholeheartedly.

Response to Comments of Late

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For a great long while now, I have mostly written without much in the way of feedback. For the most part, the feedback I do receive now about what I write on this blog falls in the negative category. People seem upset about what I write, about what I do, and about who I am. Well, they don't have to live with me, listen to me, or look here at all. I do this mostly as a public service and secondly as an outlet.

Nobody forces you to read what I write. I don't send out links to this on social media or pay to move my scribblings up the seach engine result lists. I don't twist your arm or pay you or punish you if you ignore this. In fact, most people ignore me all the time. You have many options of how to spend your time and from which sources to glean information. If you find yourself coming here more often that you'd like, well, I can't change your choices. All I can do is change how I regard them.

Remember that part of the reason I write and share my thoughts is to teach you. After all else is said and done, I am a teacher. Maybe the lesson is just "do something different from Doug", and if it turns out better for you, then thank God that you learned to be wiser than I. Most people don't write down all their thoughts, ideas, feelings, experiences. I know that nobody makes me do this, but if it's not valuable, then perhaps I will cease and then you can find something else about which to complain.

People tend to find what they seek. You will notice and register things you are trying to find. When people do not want to see things or hear things or experience things, they tend to cut themselves off and practice selectivity in their experiences. If you are reading my blog and not finding anything of relevance to you, perhaps it is because you do not wish to find it or are not open to it when you do.

It is no secret that I struggled greatly as a missionary. While still out, my father invited me to consider how, despite my struggles, all the men with whom I served constituted a blessing in my life. Even fifteen years later, some of them have short lists next to their names, but each of them served as an opportunity for me to turn to Christ, and so in that way whatever else they did they could be blessings to me. Sometimes I feel much like Polyanna, trying desperately to find something good about an otherwise arduous situation, and sometimes there isn't much that's good about Sundays. That doesn't mean there isn't anything good.

All the members of my Faith were required in college to take a series of three core courses that took us through books and topics that seemed designed to assault our faith and question our resolve. We referred to these courses as "Wicked Traditions", and everyone loathed having to sit through them. At length when my time came, I entered the courses determined to find something worthwhile to take from the classes, the readings, and the discussions. Although I found the courses difficult and challenging in ways other than the scholastic, I managed to find myriad good things from what I was forced to endure.

I write this blog mostly to myself. Unlike many of you, I lack a spouse, children, a significant other, or a roommate with whom to discuss things. Usually when something ends up here, it's because it's been on my mind powerfully for days or weeks. It bothers me, and writing it here gets it off my chest and out of my mind. In some ways this is a journal, not about the things I do but about the lessons I learn from the things I do and see and experience. It is my perspective on life. They say that smart people learn from their experiences and that wise people learn from the experiences of others.

When I post something here, I'm thinking aloud. You will notice if you go back far enough that I have changed my mind and my perspective on a few things. You will also see I hope how I evolved in my thinking from what I thought first to what I thought now. Most people will change because it's expedient for them to do so for some personal gain. I learned from my ex wife that if I was going to be damned anyway, I was going to be damned for being who I really am. This is who I am; this is how I feel. I will not be moved unless I see the wisdom or unless God commands it of me.

For better or for worse, I am me, and this accurately reflects how I feel, what I think, and what I do at least in the moment that I wrote it. If you're not finding anything worthwhile in my blog, that could be for several reasons. Perhaps you are not the intended audience. Perhaps you are not looking to learn. Perhaps this is not the time. Perhaps this is an invitation to you to be wiser than I. Perhaps you already are. Perhaps this is an invitation to thank your Creator that you have different struggles than I do or that you know better how to handle mine than I. Whatever the reason, come when you feel inclined and stay as often as you like. I will continue to write this blog until the great Jehovah shall say the work is done.

Dark Side of Urbanization

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For many reasons, some underhanded and some for our benefit, the central planners like to concentrate the people. Historically, this tended to make sure you survived when my barbarian ancestors came to steal your cattle and burn your villages. It also then tended to create problems too because you need land to grow food and a place to dump waste and wholesome sunshine if you want to be healthy. Like most things, it has its ups and downs, and current events cast light on some o’ the disadvantages.

Ebola has come to Dallas. This is a problem for many reasons. Dallas is a major metropolitan area. Dallas is also a major hub for many airlines. While it’s not the center of civilization like London or New York, it is the center of our nation in some ways, and it illustrates the threat. A single infected person who knowingly put others at risk did so clandestinely, and he came in contact with hundreds of people who unknowingly put hundreds of others at risk just going about their business. When the plague swept Europe, it hit the countryside too, but when it hit a major city or even the Royals, none were spared because they were rich or titled or famous or smart. Keeping us together keeps us at risk.

People in an urban area tend to be unaware of their immediate neighbors. Watch as many Law and Order episodes as you like, and you will see that people know only superfluous information about the people closest to them geographically. Since we have the shortest distance and greatest exposure to our immediate neighbors in an urban area, it is usually from them that we stand the most risk. It is near neighbors who, despite seeing me the same days and the same times, nearly hit me while I run or bicycle or drive. We don’t know anything about the people near us. While my ancestors in the west ran the risk that a visitor might be there to take what they had by force, you could usually see the neighbors coming. If you can see them, you can stop them before they put you at risk.

If something happens, most urban areas are not self sufficient or safe. Consequent to urbanization, the farms move further from the residents, and even those who have their own gardens run the risk of being overrun for what they do have when famine follows any kind of disaster. When people are hungry, the last thing they do is go to work for “the good of the people” despite how much they claim that when things are good. What they really do is look out for their own families. Think back to Hurricane Sandy when in New Jersey people shat in the hallways and garbage piled up everywhere. There was nothing to eat because the roads were closed and the stores were empty. Civil order broke down, and the people took whatever sporting goods they could find to defend their families in the dark and dank and dangerous night. Fearful people are panicky people, and that can become a problem.

People are a catch-22: you can’t really live without them, but they are the ones who cause you the most trouble. The good thing is that most people would like to be good if given the chance. No matter what the dramatizations on TV or the news reports show, good people will show up when tragedy strikes. In an urban area, that means they can get there sooner, because they are closer. So what do you do? Meet your neighbors. Become part of your community. Stay close to your family. Make a plan. Get ready. If we all play to our talents, then we can weather any storm.

Ten Cow Woman

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In most of the animal kingdom, the male of the species is festooned with fastidious and fanciful plumage in order to help him attract a mate. For humans, whose genetic phenotype is obfuscated by vestements of cloth or the skin of other animals, most men of lesser attractiveness find other ways to curry favor. For some, there is money; for others, like myself, we offer fabulous companionship. What this is really all about or at least ought to be is to convince the woman that she is valuable to and valued by the man.

Enter the cow. In certain cultures of polynesia/micronesia, the trade came in the form of cows to the family of the bride. Unfortunately, it came to stratify the women in their culture rather than simply indicate how their husbands felt about them. It came to be what they felt about each other. On our stage comes the probably fictitious tale of Johnny Lingo, who would famously pay eight cows for a woman that nobody wanted, that everyone on the island felt was so worthless that her father should pay Johnny to take his worthless daughter. Johnny loved the woman and made sure to pay more than anyone ever had to convince his wife that she was special to him.

A few years ago, I met such a woman. Even her own parents insisted that nobody would want her, that she should hide behind her skirt and take whatever arranged marriage her stepfather could arrange. However, the fact of the matter is that she is worth much, not because of what she has done but because of who she is. I tried to convince her of that, to convince her to follow a man who loved her, to convince her that I would pay any price, even ten cows, if she chose me. Despite all talk of new beginnings, she disappeared, and unlike Johnny Lingo’s story, I went back to my work and she remained with her parents.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her and talk with God about her. About two months ago, another professor came to me upset that her ex husband was remarrying and she is single. We went for a brisk walk. I have done so almost every day since then, sometimes for two hours. This fervent and feverish activity burns an additional 1000 calories per day. I’m doing it to exhaust myself completely so I can get some sleep. She’s always on my mind, and I feel like part of me is missing. She would have made everything, every privation, every struggle, every frustration, every disappointment worth it. I’d pay twenty cows for her, and I know what the market value of that is. I hope it’s nice where she is, that she’s happy, and that her relationship with God is strong. I would like to think that He tells her of my love and that He encourages her to act on that. What I do know is that whatever He does tell her, if she follows that she will find happiness and peace, and that’s what I wish for her because I love her.

Several of my friends are married to Ten Cow Women. They are so perfect for each other that it almost makes me sick. It also gives me hope, hope that because I have seen it I will see it again for people I love. I love to see wonderful women, and I love to see the men they choose show that they are WOW (worthy of wonder). I meet people all the time, and each time, although I no longer carry a picture of my Ten Cow Woman with me, I think, “Yes, but they are not as good as she”. She was awesome. Every time I thought things might drive us apart, she liked me more. She checked boxes I didn't even know existed.  When I had to let her go, that was the hardest thing God ever asked of me, and He knows that while I pray that she goes where it’s best I also yearn for her return.

People used to tell me that when you met the right person you’d know. I know that there are people for whom I’m not willing to risk my life, my fortune, or anything else. For her, I would give whatever it took if she asks me. Ten Cow Women are worth a great deal, because they are rare. If you have a Ten Cow Woman, I hope she knows it. If you are a Ten Cow Woman, I hope you chose/choose someone who understands what that means. My Ten Cow Woman was the most amazing woman I have ever met, and I miss her. The more I learn about other women, the more I miss her, and the more willing I am to pay any price for her. She will always be the standard to which I compare women. She was practically perfect in every way.

Time for my run...

Financial Freedom

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People think that being rich makes men free when in reality it makes them vulnerable. Some of the freest people in the world are people who are not destitute per se but people who can move the things they own easily at will to wherever they like whenever they feel. You see, the more stuff you have, the more you have to insure, and the more likely you are to be robbed. Also, the more money you have, the more, I have found, women will expect you to pay in order to woo them. Far too many people are wage slaves because they rely on that money for life as they know it to continue. Eventually, they end up having to do something they do not like because they can't earn that much somewhere else.

Most people increase their expenditures as their income rises. Since I bought my house, my financial status has stabilized and risen, not because of Obama but because of my own efforts. Aside from the fact that I like that house, I see no point in moving. If I bought another house now that the market has "recovered", the differential would consume all the increased funds I earn and leave me at the same standard of living as I enjoy now. I have neighbors and friends and coworkers who are house poor, having to pay so much to make the mortgage that they cannot furnish their house. I tutored a young lad whose single mother made good enough money to live in an affluent neighborhood but who had no chairs in the common areas so we sat at the kitchen table when I worked with her son. Other people reward their increased affluence by purchasing things for which they have long yearned. Some of these are purchased on credit. Well, in that case, they don't own their stuff as much as their stuff owns them. To keep up with the neighbors or keep appearances, far too many people spend money they do not have. Most people who look like they have money have already spent it. The saddest category are the people who incur so much student loan debt that it takes them their entire life to pay it off. Since I don't have any debt, I don't have to earn as much just to break even, and I fall into a lower tax bracket, so I win that way too.

I constantly argue with people about what belongings are assets and which are liabilities. Although I count my house among my net worth, it belongs to that class of belongings that are not mobile or liquid. A thing might have a market value that seems high, but ultimately it's only worth what someone is willing to pay you. Furthermore, you have to get insurance on a house, a car, on jewelry, on art work, on firearms, etc., so that after you acquire them you must pay to protect them. Many arguments about home ownership point out the upkeep costs, which also count as expenses. Anything you buy is only worth money at the moment that you sell it. Until then, it's something to which you must pay attention lest a thief or lawyer, but I repeat myself, move it from your asset sheet to his own.

Perhaps the saddest group are the people who are chained to their desk because they need a certain amount of money. An old acquaintance of mine from high school who works as a pharmacist asked me about quitting to teach high school chemistry. Unfortunately for him, I know that not only will he not enjoy teaching at that level but he won't enjoy the paycut. Far too many of us must keep a job to keep a lifestyle, because we are used to being wined and dined or having the best of things, and in order to keep up with our neighbors or keep ahead of them we must continue to earn more. Recently I made the mistake of trying to attract the attention of a woman who cost more than she benefits. I know many people who must earn a certain wage to keep a spouse/significant other. Far too many women in Vegas expect men to go broke for them when they don't offer anything that other, cheaper women offer as well. It has been said that there are no ugly women, only poor ones, for any woman can be surgically transformed into a beautiful woman, and some men manage that as well! Then there are those sad few who must keep a job they detest in order to live a certain way to keep their friends. Their friends stay with them because of the crumbs that fall from the table. When the gravy train dries up, the fair weather friends fly away.

During the budget crisis, when the Department Chair told me I was on the layoff list, my morale remained high because I am not living paycheck to paycheck. I do not need them to pay my bills. I look forward to work on Monday because it gives me purpose and potentially productive opportunities. In that way, I am one definition of success. I like my job and I get paid to do it sufficiently that I afford all that I must and much of what I like. Far too many of the people I know who have money spend money to look wealthy, and in so doing they bind themselves to their jobs. Really wealthy people do not do something they hate, because they spend less than they earn. Almost all the people I know who get a financial windfall immediately spend it. They blow their "tax refunds" on stuff; they buy a new car with their raise; they get a newer, larger, and better house when they get a better job, or they sink money into remodeling an old one. In essence, earning more doesn't help them live better, and they obligate themselves. In fact, I think they often give raises to people who are old or people with children because they know they can lock those people into those jobs. With financial obligations, those people are less likely to leave, whereas I may go at any time because I have money in the bank and don't rely on them to meet obligations. In fact, I work, and I work out, and then I do whatever I like because I am neither accountable to nor responsible for anyone except my own soul. They cannot make me a slave, because I am saving my money for my children if I ever have any so that I can share with them the cool things and experiences I enjoyed and enrich their lives that way.

I already wrote about having an emergency reserve. I keep money in multiple accounts so that it's easily reachable in a pinch at the amount I require. I can buy whatever I like whenever I like (within reason) because I live simply. Money buys me experiences. Money is less a master than it is a tool. I use it to have a rich life.

The Lord is Come

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Today at church, the most interesting things to cross my mind came from the hymns we sing. I found this interesting, because I just talked with my friend last night about a hymn. I asked him why it is that we wait until Christmas to sing "Joy to the World" since it's basically the whole point of our Faith. We are Christians, and the whole point of our rejoicings, the whole reason for our lifestyle, and the whole crux of the matter in our lives is that a Savior has come and that Jesus is His name.

When I sit down to play the piano I frequently play this during my recital because I enjoy it. It's easy to make a mistake, but it's fun to play. It's upbeat and hopeful and it talks about the coming of the Savior. Ok so it makes sense to sing it during the Christmas season, but why not sing it any week at any time of the year? Isn't it just as reasonable to celebrate something that cool in May as it is in December? The way it works for us, we usually sing every Christmas song only one time which means that we only rehash this one once a year and then never sing it again.

The Lord is come. It is a joyous thing. I was planning on posting a video of me singing and playing it, but I had to say goodbye to my sister today and I don't look joyful. However, it is in Christ that I have hope of reunions, second chances, and seeing the people and beagles I lost once more. He is our hope, in a better world, in better things, in better times to come. Ultimately that's what gets me out of bed in the morning. With a stout heart, I look forth until that morrow when blessings await me and the promises made to me by God and men finally come to fruition.

Because He lives, because He came, life has meaning.

Smoker’s Paradox

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Whenever I walk through the doors at school I am treated to that wondrous odor that is the smell of burning tobacco. It seems like subconsciously all the efforts to disengage people from smoking haven’t worked, and I wonder sometimes how virtually all of my close friends and acquaintances are chain smokers. Mostly they are respectful, but I do have a neighbor whose son flicks his spent butts into my yard, and I detest picking them up. In fact, they are the most common piece of trash I collect while hiking in the wilderness. I find that odd. What I also find odd is that King James wrote a counterblast about tobacco when it was first brought back from the New World, meaning that even back then some people knew it was a paradox.

Smokers seem to think that it’s ok to indulge in their habit wherever it suits them and whenever the mood strikes. Frequently, you will see them smoking in the right of way, just outside the door, such that it didn’t really matter that we banned smoking inside. You get second hand fumes while you walk through them. Just today at the gym I commented to the guy at the desk how paradoxical it was that they were smoking just outside the gym door. I like nothing better than a fresh wiff of burnt tobacco before a game of racquetball!. They don’t like going outside, especially when it gets cold, and then they flick those infernal butts wherever they like as if it’s totally ok. I know you’re addicted. I love chocolate, but I don’t apparently have the addiction that these people do. Today, I even had to call attention to a custodian smoking an electronic cigarette inside. Those are also illegal, but it doesn’t even cross their minds. Also, I think, although I don’t have any data YET, that they’re just as bad if not moreso than the paper ones.

It annoyed me that smokers seem to have privileges I lack. Coworkers constantly seem to enjoy extra smoking breaks when I am only allowed two and expected to be at work even when I’m stressed. So, I’m essentially punished because I can handle tough situations without a narcotic. Sounds perfectly equal to me. Then there’s our health care which provides monetary assistance for smoking cessation. Well, it would be fair to pay me that money in lieu of the helps because I don’t smoke. What do I get? I get a pat on the back and asked to return to work.

Although I know it’s not really true, far too many smokers don’t seem to pay any price. My SCUBA instructor was a chain smoker, but he could dive far longer than we could. My hiking buddy has smoked for 15 years, and only now does he seem to suffer from diminished lung capacity. Many people who smoke die without black lung, lung cancer or emphysema, even though they are warned it can cause those things, and some of them literally laugh at us, like that one old person who boasted that her secret to longevity was to drink, smoke, and carouse.

Fortunately for me, I have never been interested in smoking, and it shows in my health. I know there’s more to it than that, but I thank God that I was never persuaded to join in that behavior and I thank my parents for keeping us away from it. I think that smoking is a disgusting habit. My buddy’s car smells awful. I think the butts destroy the pristine landscape. I can’t believe people piss away so much money smoking these things every day. I just hope that food stamps and welfare can’t be used to buy it, because if so then I’m essentially subsidizing a drug habit. I don’t know why we give them special allowances and favors, why they get away with things. The paradox of it all is that despite all of that, they are not free. I love the recent advertising campaign that shows how smokers are slaves to their habit. Cigarettes are bullies, and those who smoke them do pay a price.

Feel Good Cards

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So much of what people do seems to be more about saving face than making change. I think far too many of us like to hand out “feel good cards”, things that we do and say that are calculated to make us feel better about ourselves more than they are to help the people to whom we direct them. Whether in politics or religion, in love or in business, we do this because we seek recognition, and we know that there is no special recognition or reward for doing what you ought to do. Most humans mistake talking for doing, and so when someone like the president talks about things, they feel like he has accomplished something.  Well, most of it's speculative process language and leads to token efforts at best because people aren't willing to do what needs to be done.  We hack away at the leaves of evil while ignoring the root and pat ourselves on the back for the pile of rubbish we create.  We all want to matter, and so we do things that make us feel like we matter rather than living in a way that we forget ourselves and get to work.

Almost everyone I know who “cares about the planet” does so to feel better about themselves. I don’t know anyone who drives a Prius who gets the gas mileage estimated by the EPA. They usually get what I get in my Saturn because they don’t drive in a way to take advantage of the features a Prius offers. Driving a Prius is far too often more of an effort to say “I care more about the planet than you do” while those people go out and litter in national parks or on the street and don’t clean their clothes, their homes or their hair. You see, you get credit for caring about the planet but no special accolades for caring about your own hygiene.

We do things because we want other people to tell us how wonderful we are. I am related to a man who took a calling in another congregation than the one with his family and volunteered at a school other than where his children went. He did so because people don’t praise you for helping your own children, but at the end of every year the church goers and school administrators would pat him on the back and say “what a good boy are you!” I wrote about the woman in Austria who took clothing to Tibet and told the people that it was all from her! She didn’t do this because she cared about Tibetans; she did this so they would worship her. Meanwhile, back at home she probably ignored and neglected her own family and neighbors because that’s what we are supposed to do. Politicians seem to be the biggest offenders in this way in my book. Since their major goal is to get reelected, they will do things that make them feel better about themselves rather than doing what is good for the people they ostensibly serve. Of course, it's about recognition, but whenever they do something amazing, remember that's what we pay them to do.

Far too often, we are generous with other people’s money, time and talents. Today I read that Mayor Bloomberg was knighted for his philanthropic efforts. Bloomberg is rich; he didn’t waste and wear out his life giving his own money and time to help; he took donations and used that, and then he took the credit. It is a piss poor leader who takes credit for things that other people do. One of the federal contractors at Nellis collects humongous bonuses annually. Most of the money is gobbled up by the supervisors who pass on a paltry few hundreds to the people who actually get the work done. We are so wonderful because we picked the right people. Aren’t we grand? I have actually been uncomfortable for years writing off my charitable contributions on my taxes for two reasons. First of all, I don't think it's anyone's business how much I give and to whom. Secondly, I feel like if I get a tax reduction, that may be the end of my increase for them. Since you only get like 29 cents for every dollar, it just doesn't seem right. Yet, that's how we rack and stack each other and measure how "giving" other people are, but there are plenty of things I do that are not quantified there because I either can't or don't want them to be. When you help someone with yard work or a flat tire, they don't give you a receipt for the IRS. The IRS wouldn't accept it anyway, but God will.

This past weekend at General Conference, we were reminded that all of this is something that we ought to do. Christ commanded us to take care of the sick, the lame, the poor, and everyone littler than we are in any way whatsoever. Although we may not be our brother’s keeper, we are still our brother’s brother, and so we are supposed to divide all gifts from God with every brother that we see who has need of our help. Ultimately there is no special credit for taking care of God’s children; it is actually an imperative duty that we owe to all the rising generation. Especially aggravating, far too many people do this to be seen of men. Whatever reward there is, it ends there. The story is told of a man who did many mighty deeds to help people who was disappointed to find that his mansion in heaven was small because he took credit for things on earth before God was able to give him credit in the book of life. You can have your marshmallow now, or you can wait a few minutes and have even more.

We are blessed by God so that we can bless others and not to bless ourselves. The cards we like to play to make us feel good represent our misbegotten belief that we can take credit for things we did not do. It is in God that we live and move and have our being, and we are eternally indebted to Him for all that we have and are. Every move you make, every breath you take, He’s been blessing you. God doesn’t even need our help. He can give food or money or health to whomever He wishes; He invites us to join Him so that we can be part of the miracle and learn to be like Him, to love our neighbors as ourselves. When we take credit for our good deeds, we show that we do not love God because we do not obey Him, and then we break the first commandment. God blesses us to see if we will do with it what we ought. He wants us to get to the place where we rejoice at a good thing regardless of who did it. He wants us to look at great paintings, great service projects, great scientific endeavors and rejoice because they will bless other people regardless of who did it. I find it duplicitous how many people celebrate Tesla’s philanthropy who then demand to be recognized for doing their duty.

My annual review is due by Wednesday, and I expect it to be blasé. You work your keester off all year to meet sometimes unrealistic expectations and compensate for coworkers who do not pull their weight and then you get a raise (if you get one) that’s the same as everyone else. I have never really been comfortable with special rewards for what I ought to do; as a scout, I swore an oath to do my duty, and as an American who believes in Christ, I believe that I am honour-bound to lift where I stand. As much as I would like merit pay, I am not living for this world, and so there is nothing they can give me that is of eternal consequence. Let other people play their feel-good cards. The Lord who seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.