Hanging on for Dear Life

• Something Big: Catching the right ledge 

All of my wilderness skills that told me not to stand on damp, mossy rock on the edge of an angry river heading towards a drop off were apparently taking this day off. One moment I was dipping my hands into the cool water for a drink, the next I was tumbling under the water. “I NEED A ROCK” was the only thing I could think. My arm struck down, caught something, and didn’t let go until the leaders of my group rescued me. 3 years later I returned to the same spot. That winter had been drier, and the river was only a small trickle. I searched for the rock that had saved my life. The entire riverbed was a uniform slab of granite with a single crack about 4 feet from the drop off. That was my ledge, and that was the only ledge. I have reflected on this event many times. What would have happened if I had put my arm down a millisecond later? What would have happened if that ledge wasn’t there for me to grab?

• Something Broken: Catching the wrong ledge

Running up a flight of stairs, my foot caught the edge of one of the steps and I landed hard. My knee hurt, but I shook it off, continued up the stairs, and went on a hike. That evening, however, my leg completely gave out. I was in a wheelchair for a few days, crutches after that. Many specialist visits and scans later, the doctors still didn’t have any answers. I had to give up ballet, missed out on fun hikes and adventures, all because I fell up stairs. UP the stairs. That shouldn’t happen.

• Something Artistic: Imprinting 

One evening I was attending one of my mother’s concerts and the piece that was playing struck me like nothing ever had before.  I came often and so was no stranger to good music, but this was different. From the first note I was captivated. For the rest of the piece I was just drinking it all in, squirming in my seat because I couldn’t physically handle the concentration of beauty I was being presented with. I described my experience to my mom, and with a thoughtful smile, she told me that that piece had been playing on a CD when I was born. I would say that that would explain why it had impacted me so much, but claiming that my subconscious remembers the music that was playing during the first few minutes of my life does not seem like a valid explanation.

• Something Mysterious: Trust

I am ok when people say that to love or to be happy is a choice. For me, choosing to trust is sometimes harder. My trust in someone seems so tied to their trustworthiness based on past actions. If I choose to trust someone who isn’t trustworthy, won’t I end up getting hurt? But if I withhold my trust from someone who deserves it, am I hurting our relationship?

To Sleep or to Paint?

• Something Big: The beauty in the random                                                                                  The thing about nature that has perplexed me forever is how it is so random and yet so beautiful. The way leaves fall from trees can't be replicated by a man. It would look unnatural. But when a tree sheds its leaves it makes beautiful shapes and patterns on the ground. No two snowflakes are alike, but all similar and beautiful. Mountains in their grandeur differ wildly and from one to the next, but all are awe inspiring. The bark on a tree, grass on a lawn, even the dirt behind your house. It's random, non uniform, and yet incredible to look at. Nature has a way of captivating the eye with its mastery of making random look beautiful.
• Something Broken: Could someone please tell me whats wrong with my body?             Why is it always something weird? Something Strange? Something unknown. I've lived a mostly healthy life, but the medical problems I have had have been odd to me. I've had shingles as a 24 year old (the average age of those with shingles is over 50), Lyme disease, and other skin conditions which numerous doctors couldn't diagnose. Looking around I see people with the flu, or strep, or some other common illness. Not me! When I get sick, I find something weird to get sick with, and I don't understand it.
• Something Artistic or Man-Made: To Sleep or to Paint?                                                         I like to sleep, I think everyone does, or at the very least everyone needs to. However, when my artistic side makes an appearance (and when it does, you better beware) I seem to lose the need for sleep. I love to paint and when I start I can't stop. There have been many nights when I paint until the morning. One time years ago I stayed up for about two days straight, painting nearly nonstop. When I'm in the middle of it, I don't even feel tired. I just have this drive to progress and finish what I am working on. I don't know how this works or why. However, this inexhaustible energy which fuels my painting disappears the moment I stop. I have woken up many times in my chair or on the floor because of this. 
• Something Mysterious: Shadows                                                                                                  Walking through an empty building on a guard patrol, there is nothing to report but empty rooms and dead silence. This should instill calm, knowing everything is ok, but walking through this dark empty building at 1 A.M. does the opposite. I feel anxious and jumpy, surrounded by shadow, hearing only my footsteps and the soft buzz of the emergency exit lights. What is it about the dark that causes a fear the cuts us to the core? What is in the shadows that we are so afraid of?                                                         

Confusion will be MY Epitaph

"The Words of the Prophets are written on the Subway Walls and Tenement Halls..."

"...The Wall on which the prophets wrote... Is cracking at... the seams..."

• Something Big: Memories to last a (digital) lifetime
• When I was checking up the other day on how much memory on my Google Drive remained, I was astonished at how much I still had. Despite putting so many documents, presentations and PDF's on to the cloud in over seven years of use, I had barely used up a fraction of a percent thus far! I have no clue as to how I could possibly use up so much available space, as except I use it for... less than legal purposes, there would be no way as to fill it up to the maximum limit.
• Something Broken: The Mind is a plaything of not just the body, but itself
• I don't think like most people. I don't have the same impulses, the same drives that the average man has. While in a flight of fancy I can imagine an literary scene as if it was in real time, and yet in the same moment I could not understand how torque is calculated, despite taking and passing a college-level physics course. I can see the relationships between characters and themes as clearly as dry glass, and yet my mind fogs up when my mind needs to figure out what a person in the real world really wants or is feeling. My IQ is lauded, and yet I can't help but feel that in this interpersonal world it is less than useless. How could I ever understand how another thinks when I can't even understand my own thoughts and actions?
• Something Artistic: Confusion will be MY Epitaph
• Music is one of the highlights of my life, but it was not until recently that I had discovered a song by King Crimson called "Epitaph". A "sequel" of sorts to the Simon and Garfunkel song "the Sound of Silence", it is an ode to the dark future ahead, where civilization crumbles around us as we dunk our heads into the sand. Sometimes I have no clue what the future holds, but in other times I can imagine oh so terribly how disastrous things can become and are becoming. I dream of nuclear war, a world that is safe to no child, and to this I can only wail the song's chorus: "Yes, I feel tomorrow I'll be crying... Yes, I feel tomorrow I'll be crying..."
• Something Mysterious: How positive and joyous an emotion...
• What does it mean to love? This not an uncommon question, but unlike others I truly have no idea as to how to do so. What would my family say, if I were to tell them, "I do not know if I love you, I do not know how such is accomplished"? What would whoever should be wife say, if I were to confess, "Am I supposed to feel warm when I am beside you? Am I truly someone who cares about you, and your wellbeing?" I can feel happiness, satisfaction, and a whole host of negative emotions, but have I ever truly loved? Are the bonds I form with others as strong as steel... or as delicate as a stem?

Image Credit: "Munich Subway Station" via Wikimedia Commons

Being Me vs Being Human

Something Big:  The Past
The present is too much for me to comprehend. To try and understand the truth behind history is impossible. It is impossible for us to understand the motives of prominent historical figures and major events that took place. It is completely irrational to label history as "noble," "patriarchal," "ethnocentric," or "oppressive." There are too many details that I don't know to put a label to it. While I do my best to understand the details that I know, I will never fully understand what happened in the past. Who to credit, and who to blame.

Something Broken: My Willpower
I can tell myself that I need to study for seven hours straight, but I will not even get through the first half hour without resistance from myself. It makes me wonder; who is really controlling me? Some call it the battle of the "natural man," but that name is only words associated with a part of the psyche that is incomprehensible. We call it the "natural man" to label it; but we don't understand what it is, where it came from, or why it is always with us.     

Something Artistic: Les Miserables
Les Miserables is one of my favorite stories. The transcendent yet relatable themes leave me in awe. Terrible things happen to well-meaning characters (hence its title) yet I was more satisfied with the ending of that story than any other story I have come across. I can't tell if Les Miserables gave me more faith that justice would ultimately reign or that I could trust in the mercy of the transcendent.
     
Something Mysterious: My Interests 
I love hunting, basketball, golf, menswear, and art. But why? No matter how many times my wife makes me watch Pride and Prejudice, it does not interest me. I could try and force myself to enjoy fishing, but I will never feel fulfilled doing. Some might say that I was raised and groomed into my interest. If that were the case then my other siblings and I would have similar interests, and we do not. There is something inside of me that makes me interested in those things. The scary thing is that it is something that is out of my control. I didn't choose to have those interests, those interests resonated with a part of me that is impossible for me to explain.     

That's What I Was Gonna Say

Something Big: The Black Hills

Alyssa & I at Mount Rushmore

I stared up at the faces looming before me, their detail lessened the distance between them and me, but their size defined two separate worlds.  Driving through the Black Hills reveled greater depth and greater height.  It was a sea of rocky mountains and trees.  It was expansive and unending, and I felt small.

Something Broken: Partners in Crime
We ran up Old Main hill, taking pictures and laughing as we usually did.  But something had changed in the past year.  My best friend, M, and I were partners in crime, running buddies, doorbell-ditching pals, and homework helpers.  But something shifted the last year of high school.  We still had our share of time together, but the camaraderie we'd had changed.  And soon we spent less and less time together.  Our first semester of college together was the same, and even though we said we were best friends we never reached the point of closeness we'd had before.  She left on her mission the week after I came home, so who knows what will happen when she gets back.

Something Artistic or Man-Made: Servant or Master?

My favorite part had arrived.  All else evaporated into the silence and I closed my eyes.  The music led my hands from one key to the next--ever pulling, demanding, hungry and desperate to expose itself.  I thought I was the musician here.  Yet I felt something that my fingers couldn't express: it transcended physical ability and captured what couldn't be spoken.  The striking melody was both haunting and beautiful; calming yet intensifying; satisfying but at the same time disappointing--for nothing else could articulate what a wordless conversation had inspired. (see Khachaturian Concerto Part I below; see 3:22 or 11:14)

Something Mysterious: That's What I Was Gonna Say

I opened the email from my mom with anticipation.  The previous week I'd asked her to send me my biological dad's address.  At the end of the email she said, "Oh that's funny--Alyssa asked me the same thing last week too."  We, my twin sister and I, were both serving missions and this wasn't the first time (nor the last) something similar happened.  My older brother frequently yells, "Jinx!" as he hears us say the same thing at the same time.  Often when Alyssa and I are talking, I say what she's thinking (or vice-versa) or we finish each other's sentences.  And although we only have a few of the same clothes, we nearly always wear them on the same day.